To MissJULIA GREENFIELD.

5.The Ladiesâ€™ Friend.

â€œThat servile obsequiousness which woman should immediately look upon as the mark of fraud, and which should make them apprehend a surprise, is the very thing which allures them, and renders them soon the victims of perjury and inconstancy; the just punishment of a disposition which fixes their inclinations on superficial qualities. It is thisdisposition which draws after them a crowd of empty fops, who if they have any meaning at all, it is only to deceive. Something pleasing in a manâ€™s person, a giddy air, a perpetual levity, supply the place of valuable endowments.â€

A recent and singular adventure has rendered observations of this sort peculiarly striking to my mind; which may account for the subject and the length of this letter.

I will give you a detail of it, though I must conceal the real names of the parties concerned.

Yesterday, the weather being very fine, and the sleighing excellent, several of our family, with two or three friends, were induced to make an excursion a few miles in the country. We stopped at a house which had formerly been a tavern, and in which we had often been well entertained on similar occasions. As we were in haste to receive the benefit of a good fire, we did not notice the removal of the sign, nor advert to the possibility of its being converted into a private mansion. Being very cold, I stepped first out of the sleigh and ran hastily in; leaving the gentlemen to exercise their gallantry with the other ladies. The room I entered had no fire. I therefore opened the door which led to the next apartment, when I beheld the beautiful and admired Clarinda sitting in an easy chair, pale and wan, with an infant in her arms! I stood mute and motionless, till the woman of the house appeared,to conduct me to another room. Confusion and shame were visibly depicted in Clarindaâ€™s countenance; and, unable to meet my eye, she threw her handkerchief over her face, and fell back in the chair.

I followed the good woman, and apologising for my intrusion, told her the cause. She recollected my having been there before, and readily excused my freedom.

By this time the rest of the company, who had been shown into a decent parlour, were inquiring for me; and I could scarcely find opportunity to request my conductress to ask Clarindaâ€™s forgiveness in my name, and to assure her of my silence, before I had joined them. I assumed an appearance of cheerfulness very foreign to the feelings of my heart, and related my mistake without any mention of the melancholy discovery I had made. We prevailed on the woman to accommodate us with tea and coffee, as we wished to ride no further. While preparations were making she came in to lay the table, and as she withdrew, gave me a token to follow her; when she informed me that Clarinda had been extremely overcome by my detecting her situation, but being somewhat recovered desired a private interview. I accordingly repaired to her apartment, where I found her bathed in tears. Pity operated in my breast, and with an air of tenderness I offered her my hand; but she withheld hers, exclaiming in broken accents, O no! I am pollutedâ€”I have forfeited yourfriendshipâ€”I am unworthy even of your compassion.

I begged her to be calm, and promised her that she should suffer no inconvenience from my knowledge of her condition.

She thanked me for my assurances, and subjoined that, since she knew the candor and generosity of my disposition, she would entrust me with every circumstance relative to her shameful fall; when, after a considerable pause, she proceeded nearly in the following words.

â€œThough our acquaintance has been for some time suspended, and though we have lived in different parts of the town, yet common fame has doubtless informed you that I was addressed by the gay, and to me, too charming Florimel! To the most captivating form, he superadded the winning graces of politeness, and all those insinuating arts which imperceptibly engage the female heart.

â€œHis flattering attentions, and apparent ardour of affection, were to my inexperienced and susceptible mind, proofs of his sincerity; and the effusions of the most lively passion, were returned with unsuspecting confidence.

â€œMy father, strict in his principles, and watchful for my real welfare, disapproved his suit; alleging that although Florimel was calculated to please in the gayer moments of life, he was nevertheless destitute of those sentiments of religion and virtue, which are essentially requisite to durable felicity. But Icould not be persuaded that he lacked any perfection which maturer years would not give him; and therefore finding my attachment unconquerable, my father reluctantly acquiesced in the proposed connexion. My ill-judged partiality for this ungenerous man absorbed every other passion and pursuit; while he took advantage of my yielding fondness, and assumed liberties which I knew to be inconsistent, with delicacy, but had not resolution to repel. One encroachment succeeded another, and every concession was claimed and granted as a proof of love, till at length he became absolute master of my will and my person. Shame and remorse soon roused me to a sense of my guilt, and I demanded an immediate performance of his promise of marriage. This, under one pretext or another, he constantly evaded. His visits daily became less frequent, and his attentions less assiduousâ€”while the most poignant anguish of mind deprived me of every comfort. I found myself reduced to the humiliating alternative of entreating my seducer to screen me from infamy by the name of wife, though he should never consider or treat me as such. To this he insultingly replied, that my situation must necessarily detect our illicit commerce; and his pride could never brook the reputation of having a wife whose chastity had been sacrificed. As soon as rage and resentment, which at first took from me the power of utterance, would permit, Wretch! exclaimed I, is it notto you the sacrifice has been made? Who but you has triumphed over my virtue, and subjected me to the disgrace and wretchedness I now suffer? Was it not in token of my regard for you that I yielded to your solicitations? And is this the requital I am to receive? Base, ungrateful man! I despise your meanness! I detest the ungenerous disposition you betray, and henceforth reject all intercourse and society with you! I will throw myself on the mercy of my injured parents, and renounce you forever.

â€œSeeing me almost frantic, he endeavored to soothe and appease me. He apologized for the harshness of his language, and even made professions of unabated affection; but gave as a reason for deferring the conjugal union, at present, that commercial affairs obliged him to sail immediately for Europe; assuring me at the same time that on his return he would not fail to renew and consummate the connexion. To this I gave no credit, and therefore made no reply. He then requested me to accept a purse to defray my expenses, during his absence, which I rejected with disdain; and he departed. The distress and despair of my mind were inexpressible. For some days I resigned myself entirely to the agonizing pangs of grief. My parents imputed my dejection to Florimelâ€™s departure, and strove to console me. It was not long, however, before my mother discovered the real cause. In her, resentment gave place to compassion;but the anger of my father could not be appeased. He absolutely forbade me his presence for some time; but my mother at length prevailed on him to see, and assure me of forgiveness and restoration to favor, if I would consent to renounce and disown my child; to which, not then knowing the force of maternal affection, I readily consented. This place was privately procured for me, and hither, under pretence of spending a month or two with a friend in the country, I retired. To-morrow my dear babe is to be taken from me! It is to be put to nurse, I know not where! All I am told is, that it shall be well taken care of! Constantly will its moans haunt my imagination, while I am deprived even of the hope of ministering to its wants; but must leave it to execrate the hour which gave it birth, and deprive it of a parentâ€™s attention and kindness.

â€œAs soon as possible, I shall return to my fatherâ€™s house; and as I am unknown here, and you are the only person, out of our family, who shares the dreadful secret, I flatter myself that my crime may still be concealed from the world. The reproaches of my own mind I can never escape. Conscious guilt will give the aspect of accusation to every eye that beholds me; and however policy may compel me to wear the mask of gaiety and ease, my heart will be wrung with inexpressible anguish by the remembrance of my folly, and always alive to the distressing sensationsof remorse and shame! Oh Julia! you have witnessed my disgrace! pity and forgive me! Perhaps I once appeared as virtuous and respectable as you now do; but how changed! how fallen! how debased! Learn from my fate to despise the flattery of the worthless coxcomb, and the arts of the abandoned libertine.â€

By this time I was summoned to tea; when giving all the consolation in my power to the unhappy Clarinda, I rejoined my company; and to prevent their inquisitiveness about my absence, told them I had been with a sick woman, upon whom I had accidentally intruded when I first came in; and that she had detained me, all this time, by a recital of her complaints and misfortunes. This account satisfied their curiosity; but the melancholy into which my mind had been thrown, was not easily dissipated; nor could I, without doing violence to my feelings, put on the appearance of my usual cheerfulness and ease.

Here my dear Maria, is a picture of the frailty and weakness of our sex! How much reason have we then to â€œwatch, and pray, that we enter not into temptation!â€

With affectionate regards to your mamma and sister, I subscribe myself yours most sincerely,

JULIA GREENFIELD.

To MissJULIA GREENFIELD.

Harmony-grove.

MY DEAR FRIEND,

I was much affected by the wo-fraught tale which you gave me in your last. We cannot too much regret that such instances of duplicity and folly are ever exhibited. They are alike disgraceful to both sexes, and demonstrate the debasing and fatal tendency of the passions, when suffered to predominate.

Your observations upon our sex I believe to be just, though many would probably deem them severe. However, I think it not much to the honor of the masculine character, which the God of nature designed for a defence and safeguard to female virtue and happiness, to take advantage of the tender affection of the unsuspecting and too credulous fair; and, in return for her love and confidence, perfidiously to destroy her peace of mind, and deprive her of that reputation which might have rendered her a useful and ornamental member of society. True, we ought to take warning by such examples of treachery and deceit; yet how much more conducive to the honor and happiness of our species, were there no occasionto apprehend such ungenerous requitals of our sincerity and frankness.

Yesterday, my mamma took the liberty to read that part of your letter, which contains the story of Clarinda, to her pupils, and to make such comments upon it as the subject suggested; during which we could not but observe the extreme emotion of one of the misses, a most amiable girl of about sixteen. When the paragraph respecting Clarindaâ€™s disowning her child was read, she hastily rose and in broken accents begged leave to withdraw. This was granted without any inquiry into the cause; though our curiosity, as you may well suppose, was much excited. After we were dismissed, my mamma prevailed on her to tell the reason of her agitation.

â€œI am,â€ said she, â€œthe illegitimate offspring of parents, whom I am told are people of fortune and fashion. The fear of disgrace overcame the dictates of natural affection, and induced my mother to abandon me in my infancy. She accordingly gave me away, with a large sum of money, which she vainly imagined would procure me kind and good treatment. But unhappily for me the people to whom I was consigned, availed themselves of their security from inspection and inquiry, abused the trust reposed in them, and exposed me to the greatest hardships. As they were persons of vulgar minds and unfeeling hearts, they did not commiserate my friendless condition. My quick sensibility incurred their displeasure orderision. I was often insultingly reproached with the misfortune of my birth; while the tears which these ungenerous reflections extorted from me, were either mocked or punished. I had a thirst for knowledge; but they allowed me no time for acquiring it, alleging they could not support me in idleness, but that I must earn my living as they did theirs, by hard labor. Oppressed by these insults, I bore the galling yoke of their authority with the utmost impatience. When screened from observation, my tears flowed without restraint; and the idea of my parentsâ€™ cruelty, in thus subjecting me to infamy and wretchedness, continually haunted my imagination. Sometimes I fancied my mother in view, and exposing my tattered raiment, expostulated with her concerning the indignities I suffered, and the unreasonable hardship of leaving me to bear all the punishment of my guilty birth! At other times I painted to myself a father, in some gentleman of pleasing aspect; and fondly indulged the momentary transport of throwing myself at the feet of one, whom I could call by that venerable and endearing name! Too soon, however, did the reverse of parental tenderness awake me from my delusive reveries.

â€œIn this manner I lingered away my existence, till I was twelve years old; when going one day to the house of a gentleman in the neighborhood, to which I was often sent to sell herbs, and other trifles, I was directedinto the parlor, where the most beautiful sight in nature opened to my view; while the contrast between my own situation, and that of children blessed with affectionate parents, gave me the most painful sensations. The lady of the house was surrounded by her four sons, the eldest of whom was reading lessons, which she most pathetically inculcated upon all. As the door was open, I stood some minutes unobserved; and was so delighted with the tender accents in which her instructions were imparted, and the cheerful obedience with which they were received, that I had no disposition to interrupt them.

â€œAt length I was seen, and bid to come in. But when questioned about my errand I was so absorbed in the contemplation of maternal and filial love, exhibited in this happy group, that my tongue refused utterance, and I burst into tears. The children gathered around and inquired what ailed the poor little girl? But when the lady took me by the hand, and kindly asked what was the matter, I could not restrain or conceal my feelings. When my tears had relieved me, I related the cause of my grief; describing my own situation, and the effect which its contrast had produced on my mind.

â€œShe was affected by my story, and seemed pleased with my sensibility; while the children lamented my misfortunes, and artlessly requested their mamma to let me come and live with them.

â€œLittle did I then expect so great a favor; but to my surprise as well as joy, Mrs. â€”â€”, the lady of whom I have been speaking, and by whom I am put under your care, came a few days after, and asked the people where I lived, if they were willing to part with me. By their consent she took me home, and has ever since treated me like a child.

â€œI am now happy beyond expression. My gratitude to my benefactress, who, guided by a wise and good Providence, has snatched me from obscurity and misery, and given me so many advantages for improvement, is unbounded.

â€œBut the idea that any helpless innocent should be unnaturally exposed to the sufferings which I have experienced, is insupportably distressing to my imagination.

â€œLet my story, if possible, be told to Clarinda, that she may be induced to have compassion upon her defenceless offspring.â€

You are at liberty, therefore, my dear Julia, to make what use you please of this letter. I shall make no comments upon the subject of it, nor add any thing more to its length, but that I am affectionately yours.

MARIA WILLIAMS.

To MissANNA WILLIAMS.

Salem.

Dear Anna,

My contemplated visit to Harmony-Grove must be deferred. A severe illness has lately confined my mamma to her chamber. This claimed all my time and attention, and called me to a new scene of care; that of a family which I was obliged to superintend during her indisposition. Her recovery has, at length, restored tranquillity and joy to our abode; but she has not yet resumed the direction of her household affairs. To this, she tells me she is reconciled by the hope that experience may render me an adept in domestic economy. Indeed, Anna, I think this an essential branch of female education; and I question whether it can be acquired by mere speculation. To me it is plain that every lady ought to have some practice in the management of a family, before she takes upon herself the important trust.

Do not many of the mistakes and infelicities of life arise from a deficiency in this point?

Young ladies of fashion are not obliged tothe task, and have too seldom any inclination to perform duties which require so much time and attention; and with which, perhaps, they have injudiciously been taught to connect the idea of servility. Hence it is, that when called to preside over families, they commit many errors, during their novitiate, at least, which are alike detrimental to their interest and happiness. How necessary is it, then, to avoid this complication of evils by a seasonable application to those offices of housewifery, which may one day become our province.

Early rising, I find a great assistance in my present occupation. It is almost incredible how much may be gained by a diligent improvement of those hours which are but too commonly lost in sleep. I arose this morning with the dawn. The serenity of the sky and the fragrance of the air invited me abroad. The calmness which universally prevailed served to tranquillize my mind, while the receding shades of night, and the rising beams of day, formed a contrasted assemblage of the beautiful, the splendid, the solemn, and the sublime. The silence which pervaded the surrounding scenery was interrupted only by the melody of the feathered songsters, who seemed to rejoice in this undisturbed opportunity of praising their maker. My heart expanded with gratitude and love to the all-bountiful Author of nature; and so absorbed was I in the most delightful meditations, that I saw with regret the hour approaching whichmust again call me to the active duties of domestic and social life. These however, are objects of real moment, and cannot innocently be disregarded. They give a relish to amusement, and even to devotion, which neither the dissipated nor the recluse can know. Adieu.

CLEORA PARTRIDGE.

Beverly.

DEAR HARRIOT,

I sincerely thank you for your affectionate letter, by the last post, and for the book with which it was accompanied. The very title is sufficient to rouse the feelings and attract the attention of the patriotic mind. Beacon-Hill claims a conspicuous place in the history of our country. The subject of this poem must be highly interesting to every true American; while the genius it displays cannot fail to gratify every poetical taste. Phileniaâ€™s talents justly entitle her to a rank among the literary ornaments of Columbia.

I have been reviewing Millotâ€™s Elements of Ancient and Modern History; and recommend it to your re-perusal. It is undoubtedly the most useful compendium extant. The tedious minuteness and prolix details of sieges and battles, negotiations and treaties, which fatigue the reader and oppress the memory in most works of the kind, are happily avoided in this; while the elegance, simplicity, conciseness and perspicuity of the style, render it intelligible to every capacity, and pleasing to every taste. To those who have a relish for history, but want leisure to give full scope, Millot is well calculated to afford both information and entertainment. It is an objection, commonly made by our sex to studies of this nature, that they are dry and elaborate; that they yield little or no exercise to the more sprightly faculties of the mind; that the attention is confined to an uninteresting and barren detail of facts, while the imagination pants in vain for the flowery wreaths of decoration.

This is a plausible excuse for those who read only for amusement, and are willing to sacrifice reason, and the enlargement of their minds, to the gaudy phantom of a day; but it can never be satisfactory to the person, who wishes to combine utility with pleasure, and dignity with relaxation.

History improves the understanding, and furnishes a knowledge of human nature and human events, which may be useful as wellas ornamental through life. â€œHistory,â€ says the late celebrated Gauganelli, â€œbrings together all ages and all mankind in one point of view. Presenting a charming landscape to the mental eye, it gives colour to the thoughts, soul to the actions, and life to the dead; and brings them upon the stage of the world, as if they were again living; but with this difference, that it is not to flatter, but to judge them.â€

The duties and avocations of our sex will not often admit of a close and connected course of reading. Yet a general knowledge of the necessary subjects may undoubtedly be gained even in our leisure hours; provided we bestow them not on works of mere taste and fancy, but on the perusal of books calculated to enrich the understanding with durable acquisitions.

The sincerest wishes for your health and happiness glow in the breast of your affectionate

MATILDA FIELDING.

To MissMARIA WILLIAMS.

BOSTON.

MY DEAR MARIA,

Since I wrote you last, I have made an agreeable visit to my good friend Sylvia Star. After rambling in the fields and gardens till we were fatigued, we went into her brotherâ€™s library. He was in a studious attitude, but gave us a polite reception. We are come, Amintor, said I. Be so kind as to furnish us with some instructive page, which combines entertainment and utility; and while it informs the mind, delights the imagination. I am not happy enough to know your taste respecting books, said he; and therefore, may not make a proper selection. Here, however, is an author highly spoken of by a lady who has lately added to the number of literary publications; handing me Sterneâ€™s Sentimental Journey. I closed and returned the book. You have, indeed, mistaken my taste, said I. Wit, blended with indelicacy, never meets my approbation. While the fancy is allured, and the passions awakened, by this pathetic humourist, the foundations of virtue are insidiously undermined, and modest dignity insensibly betrayed. Well, said he, smilingly, perhaps youare seriously inclined. If so, this volume of sermons may possibly please you. Still less, rejoined I. The serious mind must turn with disgust from the levity which pervades these discourses, and from the indecent flow of mirth and humour, which converts even the sacred writings, and the most solemn subjects of religion, into frolic and buffoonery. Since such is your opinion of this celebrated writer, said he, I will not insult your feelings by offering you his Tristram Shandy. But here is another wit, famous for his â€œpurity.â€ Yes, said I, if obscene and vulgar ideas, if ill-natured remarks and filthy allusions by purity, Swift undoubtedly bears the palm from all his contemporaries. As far as grammatical correctness and simplicity of language can deserve the epithet, his advocates may enjoy their sentiments unmolested; but in any other sense of the word, he has certainly no claim to â€œpurity.â€ I conceive his works, notwithstanding, to be much less pernicious in their tendency, than those of Sterne. They are not so enchanting in their nature, nor so subtle in their effects. In the one, the noxious insinuations of licentious wit are concealed under the artful blandishments of sympathetic sensibility; while we at once recoil from the rude assault which is made upon our delicacy, by the roughness and vulgarity of the other.

Choose then, said Amintor, for yourself. I availed myself of his offer, and soon fixed my eyes upon Dr. Belknapâ€™s History of New Hampshire,and American Biography; both of which I have since read with the greatest satisfaction.

By this judicious and impartial historian, we are led from its first settlement to trace the progress of the infant colony. We accompany its inhabitants in their enterprizes, their dangers, their toils, and their successes. We take an interest in their prosperity; and we tremble at the dreadful outrages of the barbarous foe. Our imagination is again recalled to the gradual advance of population and agriculture. We behold the wilderness blooming as the rose, and the haunts of savage beasts, and more savage men, converted into fruitful fields and pleasant habitations. The arts and sciences flourish; peace and harmony are restored; and we are astonished at the amazing contrast, produced in little more than a century.

When we return to the American Biography, gratitude glows in our bosoms towards those intrepid and active adventurers, who traversed a trackless ocean, explored an unknown region, and laid the foundation of empire and independence in this western hemisphere. The undaunted resolution, and cool, determined wisdom of Columbus, fill us with profound admiration. We are constrained to pay a tribute of just applause to the generosity of a female mind exemplified in Isabella, who, to surmount every obstacle, nobly consented to sacrifice even her personal ornamentsto the success of this glorious expedition.

The daring spirit of Captain Smith, and the prudence, policy and magnanimity of his conduct to the treacherous natives, and to his equally treacherous and ungrateful countrymen, exhibit an example of patriotism and moderation, which at once commands our applause, and interests our feelings. While we tremble and recoil at his dreadful situation, when bending his neck to receive the murderous stroke of death, the native virtues of our sex suddenly reanimate our frame; and with sensations of rapture, we behold compassion, benevolence, and humanity, triumphant even in a savage breast; and conspicuously displayed in the conduct of the amiable though uncivilized Pocahontas! Nor are the other characters in this work uninteresting; and I am happy to find that the same masterly pen is still industriously employed for the public good;[6]and that a second volume of American Biography is now in press.

6.How vain are our expectations! While the types were setting for this very page, Dr. Belknap suddenly expired in a fit.â€”Printer.

In reviewing this letter, I am astonished at my own presumption, in undertaking to play the critic. My imagination has outstripped my judgment; but I will arrest its career, and subscribe myself most affectionately yours.

SOPHIA MANCHESTER.

To MissANNA WILLIAMS.

Boston.

DEAR ANNA,

I retired, after breakfast this morning, determined to indulge myself in my favorite amusement, and write you a long letter. I had just mended my pen and folded my paper, when I was informed that three ladies waited for me in the parlor. I stepped down and found Lucinda Pâ€”â€”, Flavia Fâ€”â€”, and Delia Sâ€”â€”. They were gaily dressed, and still more gaily disposed. â€œWe called,â€ said they, â€œto invite you, Miss Maria, to join our party for a shopping tour.â€ Loath to have the ideas dissipated, which I had collected in my pericranium, for the purpose of transmitting to a beloved sister, I declined accepting their invitation; alleging that I had no occasion to purchase any thing to day; and therefore begged to be excused from accompanying them. They laughed at my reason for not engaging in the expedition. â€œBuying,â€ said their principal speaker, â€œis no considerable part of our plan, I assure you. Amusement is what we are after. We frankly acknowledge it a delightful gratification of our vanity, to traverse Cornhill, to receive theobsequious congees, and to call forth the gallantry and activity of the beaux, behind the counter; who, you must know, are extremely alert when we belles appear. The waving of our feathers, and the attractive airs we assume, command the profoundest attention, both of master and apprentices; who, duped by our appearance, suffer less brilliant customers to wait, or even to depart without notice, till we have tumbled over and refused half the goods in the shop. We then bid a very civil adieu; express our regret at having given so much trouble; are assured in return that it has been rather a pleasure; and leave them their trouble for their pains.â€

A most insignificant amusement this, said I to myself! How little can it redound to the honor and happiness of these unthinking girls, thus to squander their time in follyâ€™s giddy maze! They undoubtedly wish to attract eclat; but they would do well to remember those words of the satirist, which, with the alteration of a single term, may be applied to them.

â€œColumbiaâ€™s daughters, much more fair than nice,Too fond of admiration, lose their price!Worn in the public eye, give cheap delightTo throngs, and tarnish to the sated sight.â€

â€œColumbiaâ€™s daughters, much more fair than nice,

Too fond of admiration, lose their price!

Worn in the public eye, give cheap delight

To throngs, and tarnish to the sated sight.â€

Viewing their conduct in this light, I withstood their solicitations, though I palliated my refusal in such a manner as to give no umbrage.

Of all expedients to kill time, this appears to me, as I know it will to you, the most ridiculous and absurd.

What possible satisfaction can result from such a practice? It certainly fatigues the body; and is it any advantage to the mind? Does it enlarge the understanding, inspire useful ideas, or furnish a source of pleasing reflection? True, it may gratify a vitiated imagination, and exhilarate a light and trifling mind. But these ought to be restrained and regulated by reason and judgment, rather than indulged.

I wish those ladies, who make pleasure the supreme object of their pursuit, and argue in vindication of their conduct, that

â€œPleasure is good, and they for pleasure made,â€

would confine themselves to that species which

â€œNeither blushes nor expires.â€

The domestic virtues, if duly cultivated, might certainly occupy those hours, which they are now solicitous to dissipate, both with profit and delight. â€œBut it is time enough to be domesticated,â€ say they, â€œwhen we are placed at the head of families, and necessarily confined to care and labor.â€

Should not the mind, however, be seasonably inured to the sphere of life which Providence assigns us?

â€œTo guide the pencil, turn thâ€™ instructive page;To lend new flavor to the fruitful year,And heighten natureâ€™s dainties; in their raceTo rear their graces into second life;To give society its highest taste;Well-ordered home manâ€™s beet delight to make;And, by submissive wisdom, modest skill,With every gentle care eluding art,To raise the virtues, animate the bliss,And sweeten all the toils of human life;This be the female dignity and praise.â€

â€œTo guide the pencil, turn thâ€™ instructive page;

To lend new flavor to the fruitful year,

And heighten natureâ€™s dainties; in their race

To rear their graces into second life;

To give society its highest taste;

Well-ordered home manâ€™s beet delight to make;

And, by submissive wisdom, modest skill,

With every gentle care eluding art,

To raise the virtues, animate the bliss,

And sweeten all the toils of human life;

This be the female dignity and praise.â€

A proper attention to these necessary duties and embellishments, would not only correct this rambling disposition, but happily leave neither leisure nor temptation for its indulgence.

I intended to have given you some account of my agreeable visit here; but the chit-chat of the ladies I have mentioned, has occupied a large portion of my time this morning, and an engagement to dine abroad claims the rest.

I hope soon to embrace you in our beloved retirement, and again to enjoy the sweets of my native home.

â€œHad I the choice of sublunary good,What could I wish that I possess not there?Health, leisure, means tâ€™ improve it, friendship, peace.â€

â€œHad I the choice of sublunary good,

What could I wish that I possess not there?

Health, leisure, means tâ€™ improve it, friendship, peace.â€

My most dutiful affections await mamma; and my kind regards attend the young ladies residing with her. How great a share of my ardent love is at your command, need not be renewedly testified.

MARIA WILLIAMS.

To MissSOPHIA MANCHESTER.

Newburyport.

The extracts which you transmitted to me in your last letter, my dear Sophia, from your favorite author, Dr. Young, corresponded exactly with the solemnity infused into my mind by the funeral of a neighbor, from which I had just returned.

I agree with you that the Night-Thoughts are good devotional exercises. It is impossible to read them with that degree of attention which they merit, without being affected by the important and awful subjects on which they treat. But Young, after all, is always too abstruse, and in many instances too gloomy for me. The most elaborate application is necessary to the comprehension of his meaning and design; which when discovered often tend rather to depress than to elevate the spirits.

Thompson is much better adapted to my taste. Sentiment, elegance, perspicuity and sublimity are all combined in his Seasons. What an inimitable painter! How admirably he describes the infinitely variegated beauties and operations of nature! To the feeling and susceptible heart they are presented in the strongest light. Nor is the energy of his languageless perceivable, when he describes the Deity riding on the wings of the wind, and directing the stormy tempest.

â€œHow changâ€™d the scene! In blazing height of noon,The sun oppressâ€™d, is plunged in thickest gloom,Still horror reigns, a dismal twilight round,Of struggling night and day malignant mixâ€™d,Far to the hot equator crowding fast,Where highly rarefyâ€™d, the yielding air,Admits their stream, incessant vapours roll,Amazing clouds on clouds continual heapâ€™d;Or whirlâ€™d tempestuous by the gusty wind,Or silent, borne along, heavy and slow,With the big stores of streaming oceans chargâ€™d:Meantime, amid these upper seaâ€™s condensâ€™dAround the cold aerial mountainâ€™s brow,And by conflicting winds together dashâ€™d,The thunder holds his black tremendous throne,From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage;Till in the furious elemental warDissolve the whole precipitated mass,Unbroken floods and torrents pours.â€

â€œHow changâ€™d the scene! In blazing height of noon,

The sun oppressâ€™d, is plunged in thickest gloom,

Still horror reigns, a dismal twilight round,

Of struggling night and day malignant mixâ€™d,

Far to the hot equator crowding fast,

Where highly rarefyâ€™d, the yielding air,

Admits their stream, incessant vapours roll,

Amazing clouds on clouds continual heapâ€™d;

Or whirlâ€™d tempestuous by the gusty wind,

Or silent, borne along, heavy and slow,

With the big stores of streaming oceans chargâ€™d:

Meantime, amid these upper seaâ€™s condensâ€™d

Around the cold aerial mountainâ€™s brow,

And by conflicting winds together dashâ€™d,

The thunder holds his black tremendous throne,

From cloud to cloud the rending lightnings rage;

Till in the furious elemental war

Dissolve the whole precipitated mass,

Unbroken floods and torrents pours.â€

Conscious of our own weakness and dependence, we can hardly fail to adore and to fear that Divine Power, whose agency this imagery exhibits to our minds. Nor are the devout affections of our hearts less excited, when we behold the same glorious Being arrayed in love, and accommodating the regular succession of summer and winter, seed time and harvest to our convenience and comfort. When nature, obedient to his command, revives the vegetable world, and diffuses alacrity and joy throughout the animal, and even rational creation, we involuntarily exclaim with the

â€œHail, source of being! Universal soulOf heaven and earth!Essential Presence, hail!ToTheeI bend the knee; toTheemy thoughtsContinual climb; who, with a master hand,Hast the great whole into perfection touchâ€™d.ByTheevarious vegetative tribes,Wrapt in a filmy net and clad with leaves,Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew.ByTheedisposed into cogenial foils,Stands each attractive plant, and sucks, and swellsThe juicy tide; a twining mass of tubes.AtThycommand, the vernal sun awakesThe torpid sap, detruded to the rootBy wintry winds; which now in fluent dance,And lively fermentation, mounting spreadsAll this inumerous-colourâ€™d scene of things.â€

â€œHail, source of being! Universal soul

Of heaven and earth!Essential Presence, hail!

ToTheeI bend the knee; toTheemy thoughts

Continual climb; who, with a master hand,

Hast the great whole into perfection touchâ€™d.

ByTheevarious vegetative tribes,

Wrapt in a filmy net and clad with leaves,

Draw the live ether, and imbibe the dew.

ByTheedisposed into cogenial foils,

Stands each attractive plant, and sucks, and swells

The juicy tide; a twining mass of tubes.

AtThycommand, the vernal sun awakes

The torpid sap, detruded to the root

By wintry winds; which now in fluent dance,

And lively fermentation, mounting spreads

All this inumerous-colourâ€™d scene of things.â€

Aided in our observations by this pathetic and pious writer, our hearts beat responsive to the sentiments of gratitude, which he indirectly, yet most forcibly inculcates in that devout address to the Supreme Parent:

â€œâ€”â€”Were every faltering tongue of man,Almighty Father! silent in thy praise,Thy works themselves would raise a general voice,Even in the depth of solitary woods,By human foot untrod: proclaim the power,And to the quire celestial Thee resound,Thâ€™ eternal cause, support, and End of all!â€

â€œâ€”â€”Were every faltering tongue of man,

Almighty Father! silent in thy praise,

Thy works themselves would raise a general voice,

Even in the depth of solitary woods,

By human foot untrod: proclaim the power,

And to the quire celestial Thee resound,

Thâ€™ eternal cause, support, and End of all!â€

By this beautiful poem we are allured to the study of nature, and to the contemplation of natureâ€™s God. Our hearts glow with devotion and love to the sovereign Lord and benefactor of the universe; and we are drawn, by the innumerable displays of his goodness, to the practice of virtue and religion.

You may, possibly call me an enthusiast. Be it so. Yet I contend for the honor, but especially for the privilege, of being a cheerful one. For I think we dishonor our heavenly father by attaching any thing gloomy or forbidding to his character. In this participation of divine blessings, let us rather exercise a thankful, and contented disposition.

I remain yourâ€™s most affectionately.

CAROLINE LITTLETON.

Boston.

DEAR MADAM,

By her desire in conjunction with my own inclination, I inform you that Harriot Henly, is no moreâ€”â€”Yesterday she gave her hand, and renounced her name together; threw aside the sprightly girl we have been so long accustomed to admire, and substituted in her place the dignified and respectable head of a family, in Mrs. Farmington.

Have I not lost my amiable friend and associate!Will not her change of situation tend to lessen our intercourse, and alienate our affections?

When I contemplate the social circle, so firmly cemented in the bands of friendship, at the boarding school, where the most perfect harmony, ease and satisfaction presided, I recoil at the idea of becoming less dear, less interesting, and less necessary to each other. It is with the utmost reluctance that I admit the idea of rivals to that affection and benevolence which we have, so long, and so sincerely interchanged.

The charm however is broken. Harriot is already married; and my friends are extremely solicitous that I should follow her example. But in a connexion which requires so many precautions, before it is formed, and such uninterrupted circumspection and prudence afterwards; the great uncertainty of the event inspires me with timidity and apprehension.

Harriot put into my hands, and I read with pleasure, the book which you recommended to her on the subject. But still we wished for your instruction and advice. The sentiments of a person so dear and interesting to us, are particularly calculated to engage our attention, and influence our conduct. Relying, too, on your judgment and experience, your forming pen may render us more worthy objects of attachment.

We, however, unite in assuring you of ourgratitude for all past favours; and in presenting our sincere regards to the young ladies.

I am, with great respect, your affectionate and grateful

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