To MissSOPHIA MANCHESTER.

SOPHIA MANCHESTER.

Beverly.

I sympathize with you, my dear Sophia, in the disappointment you received in your expectations from beauty and wit.

You may nevertheless derive advantage from it. Your refined and delicate ideas raiseyou too far above the scenes of common life. They paint the defects of your inferiors in such lively colours, that the greater part of the community must be displeasing to you. Few, you should remember, have had the advantages which you have enjoyed; and still fewer have your penetrating eye, correct taste, and quick sensibility. Let charity then draw a veil over the foibles of others, and candor induce you to look on the best and brightest side.

It is both our duty and interest to enjoy life as far as integrity and innocence allow; and in order to this, we must not soar above, but accommodate ourselves to its ordinary state. We cannot stem the torrent of folly and vanity; but we can step aside and see it roll on, without suffering ourselves to be borne down by the stream.

Empty conversation must be disgusting to every rational and thinking mind; yet, when it partakes not of malignity, it is harmless in its effects, as the vapour which floats over the mead in a summer’s eve. But when malice and envy join to give scope to detraction, we ought to avoid their contagion, and decidedly condemn the effusions of the ill-natured merriment which they inspire.

Our sex have been taxed as defamers. I am convinced, however, they are not exclusively guilty; yet, for want of more substantial matter of conversation, I fear they too often give occasion for the accusation! Amind properly cultivated and stored with useful knowledge, will despise a pastime which must be supported at the expense of others. Hence only the superficial and the giddy are reduced to the necessity of filling the time in which they associate together, with the degrading and injurious subjects of slander. But I trust that our improved country-women are rising far superior to this necessity, and are able to convince the world, that the American fair are enlightened, generous, and liberal. The false notions of sexual disparity, in point of understanding and capacity, are justly exploded; and each branch of society is uniting to raise the virtues and polish the manners of the whole.

I am, &c.

MATILDA FIELDING.

Salem.

DEAR JULIA,

From your recommendation of Mrs. Chapone’s letters; and, what is still more, from the character given them by Mrs. Williams,I was anxious to possess the book; but, not being able to procure it here, my clerical brother, who was fortunately going to Boston, bought and presented it to me.

I am much gratified by the perusal, and flatter myself that I shall derive lasting benefit from it.

So intricate is the path of youth, and so many temptations lurk around to beguile our feet astray, that we really need some skilful pilot to guide us through the delusive maze. To an attentive and docile mind, publications of this sort may afford much instruction and aid. They ought, therefore, to be carefully collected, and diligently perused.

Anxious to make my brother some acknowledgment for his present, I wrought and sent him a purse, accompanied with a dedication which I thought might amuse some of his solitary moments; and which, for that purpose, I here transcribe and convey to you.

The enclosed, with zeal and with reverence due,Implor’d my permission to wait upon you;And begg’d that the muse would her favor extend,To briefly her worth and her service commend.The muse, who by dear bought experience had knownHow little her use to the clergy had grown,With officious advice thus attacked the poor purse:Why, you novice! ’tis plain that you cannot do worse!If the end of your being you would ever attain,And honor, preferment and influence gain,Go quick to the pocket of some noble knave,Whose merit is wealth, and his person is slave:Or enter the mansion where splendor appears,And pomp and eclat are the habit she wears:Or hie to the court, where so well you are known,So highly esteem’d and so confident grown,That without your assistance and recommendation,None claims any merit, or fills any station!Seek either of these; and with joy you’ll beholdYourself crown’d with honor, and filled with gold.But to wait on a priest! How absurd is the scheme;His reward’s in reversion; the future’s his theme.Will these, for the present, your craving’s supply,Or soften the din of necessity’s cry?Of hunger and want, the loud clamours repel;Or crush the poor moth that would on you revel!For poets and prophets the world has decreed,On fame and on faith may luxuriously feed!Here the puss interpos’d with a strut and a stare,Pray good madam muse, your suggestions forbear!On virtue and worth I’m resolved to attend,Afirm, if I am not aplentifulfriend.Tho’ not swell’d with gold, and with metal extended,What little I have shall be rightly expended:And a trifle, by justice and wisdom obtained,Is better than millions dishonestly gain’d!Yet I hope and presume that I never shall beexcluded his pocket for the lack of a fee!Thus the muse and the purse—till I took the direction,And destin’d the latter to your kind protection.My wishes attend her, with fervor express’d,That in yellow or white she may always be dress’d;And e’er have the power each dull care to beguile;Make the summer more gay, and the bleak winter smile!But if Fortune be blind; or should she not favorThese wishes of mine, you must scorn the deceiver:And, rising superior to all she can do,Find a bliss more substantial than she can bestow!

The enclosed, with zeal and with reverence due,

Implor’d my permission to wait upon you;

And begg’d that the muse would her favor extend,

To briefly her worth and her service commend.

The muse, who by dear bought experience had known

How little her use to the clergy had grown,

With officious advice thus attacked the poor purse:

Why, you novice! ’tis plain that you cannot do worse!

If the end of your being you would ever attain,

And honor, preferment and influence gain,

Go quick to the pocket of some noble knave,

Whose merit is wealth, and his person is slave:

Or enter the mansion where splendor appears,

And pomp and eclat are the habit she wears:

Or hie to the court, where so well you are known,

So highly esteem’d and so confident grown,

That without your assistance and recommendation,

None claims any merit, or fills any station!

Seek either of these; and with joy you’ll behold

Yourself crown’d with honor, and filled with gold.

But to wait on a priest! How absurd is the scheme;

His reward’s in reversion; the future’s his theme.

Will these, for the present, your craving’s supply,

Or soften the din of necessity’s cry?

Of hunger and want, the loud clamours repel;

Or crush the poor moth that would on you revel!

For poets and prophets the world has decreed,

On fame and on faith may luxuriously feed!

Here the puss interpos’d with a strut and a stare,

Pray good madam muse, your suggestions forbear!

On virtue and worth I’m resolved to attend,

Afirm, if I am not aplentifulfriend.

Tho’ not swell’d with gold, and with metal extended,

What little I have shall be rightly expended:

And a trifle, by justice and wisdom obtained,

Is better than millions dishonestly gain’d!

Yet I hope and presume that I never shall be

excluded his pocket for the lack of a fee!

Thus the muse and the purse—till I took the direction,And destin’d the latter to your kind protection.My wishes attend her, with fervor express’d,That in yellow or white she may always be dress’d;And e’er have the power each dull care to beguile;Make the summer more gay, and the bleak winter smile!But if Fortune be blind; or should she not favorThese wishes of mine, you must scorn the deceiver:And, rising superior to all she can do,Find a bliss more substantial than she can bestow!

Thus the muse and the purse—till I took the direction,

And destin’d the latter to your kind protection.

My wishes attend her, with fervor express’d,

That in yellow or white she may always be dress’d;

And e’er have the power each dull care to beguile;

Make the summer more gay, and the bleak winter smile!

But if Fortune be blind; or should she not favor

These wishes of mine, you must scorn the deceiver:

And, rising superior to all she can do,

Find a bliss more substantial than she can bestow!

CLEORA PARTRIDGE.

To MissLAURA GUILFORD.

Worcester.

DEAR LAURA,

I have spent a very agreeable summer in the country; but am now preparing to return to town. I anticipate, with pleasure, a restoration to your society, and that of my other friends there. I should, however, quit these rural scenes with reluctance, were it not that they are giving place to the chilling harbingers of approaching winter. They have afforded charms to me, which the giddy round of fashionable amusements can never equal. Many, however, think life insupportable, except in the bustle and dissipation of a city. Of this number is the volatile Amelia Parr, whom you know as well as I. So extreme is her gaiety, that the good qualities of her mind are suffered to lie dormant; while the most restless passions are indulged without restraint. I have just received a letter from her, which you will see to be characteristic of her disposition. I enclose that, and my answer to it, for your perusal. Read both with candour; and believe me ever yours,

HARRIOT HENLY.

To MissHARRIOT HENLY.

(Enclosed in the preceding.)

Boston.

Where are you, Harriot; and what are you doing? Six long months absent from the town! What can you find to beguile the tedious hours? Life must be a burden to you! How can you employ yourself? Employ, did I say? Pho! I will not use so vulgar a term! I meant amuse! Amusement surely is the prime end of our existence! You have no plays, no card-parties, nor assemblies, that are worth mentioning! Intolerably heavy must the lagging wheels of time roll on! How shall I accelerate them for you? A new novel may do something towards it! I accordingly send you one, imported in the last ships. Foreign, to be sure; else it would not be worth attention. They have attained to a far greater degree of refinement in the old world, than we have in the new; and are so perfectly acquainted with the passions, that there is something extremely amusing and interesting in their plots and counterplots, operating in various ways, till the dear creatures are jumbled into matrimony in the prettiest manner that can be conceived!

We, in this country, are too much in a state of nature to write good novels yet. An Americannovel is such a moral, sentimental thing, that it is enough to give any body the vapours to read one. Pray come to town as soon as possible, and not dream away your best days in obscurity and insignificance.

But this boarding school, this Harmony-Grove, where you formerly resided, has given you strange ideas of the world. With what raptures I have heard you relate the dull scenes in which you were concerned there! I am afraid that your diseased taste has now come to a crisis, and you have commenced prude in earnest! But return to your city friends; and we will lend our charitable assistance, in restoring you to gaiety and pleasure.

AMELIA PARR.

The Answer.

Worcester.

DEAR AMELIA,

Your letter——your rattle, rather, came to hand yesterday. I could not avoid smiling at your erroneous opinions; and, in my turn, beg leave to express my wonder at your entertainmentsin town. True, we have no plays. We are not obliged by fashion, to sit, half suffocated in a crowd, for the greater part of the night, to hear the rantings, and see the extravagant actions of the buskin heroes, (and those not always consistent with female modesty to witness!) We have no card-parties, avowedly formed for the purpose ofkilling time! But we have an agreeable neighborhood, among which we can easily collect a social circle; and persons of taste, politeness and information, compose it. Here we enjoy a rational and enlivening conversation, which is at once refined and improving. We have no assemblies, composed of a promiscuous crowd of gaudy belles and beaux; many of whom we should despise in a private company, and deem unworthy of our notice. But we have genteel balls, the company of which is select, none being admitted but such as do honor to themselves and each other. The amusement is not protracted till the yawning listlessness of the company proclaims their incapacity for enjoyment; but we retire at a seasonable hour, and add to the pleasure of the evening, that of undisturbed rest through the night. Of course, we can rise with the sun, and sip the nectarious dews, wafted in the aromatic gale. We breakfast before the heat of the day has brought on a languor and deprived us of appetite; after which, we amuse ourselves with our needles, books, or music; recline on the sofa, or ramble in the grove, asfancy or convenience directs. In the shady bower we enjoy either the luxury of solitude, or the pleasures of society; while you are, the whole time, in the midst of hurry and bustle. Eager in the chase,youfly from one scene of dissipation to another; but the fatigue of this ceaseless round, and the exertion of spirits necessary to support it, render the objects of pursuit tasteless and insipid.

Which mode of life, yours or mine, do you now think the most rational, and productive of the greatest happiness? The boarding school, which you affect to despise, has, it is true, formed my taste; and I flatter myself that I shall never wish it altered.

I shall soon return to town; but not for pleasure. It is not in crowds that I seek it. Adieu.

HARRIOT HENLY.

Concord.

DEAR SOPHIA,

Having been with my aunt Burchel for a fortnight past, I have indulged myself in reading novels; with which her library is well supplied.

Richardson’s works have occupied a large portion of the time. What a surprising command has this great master of the passions over our feelings! It is happy for his own and succeeding ages, that he embarked in the cause of virtue. For his influence on the affections of his readers is so great, that it must have proved very pernicious, had he enlisted on the side of vice. Though I am not much of a novel-reader, yet his pen has operated like magic on my fancy; and so extremely was I interested, that I could have dispensed with sleep or food for the pleasure I found in reading him.

By this circumstance I am more than ever convinced of the great caution which ought to be used in perusing writings of the kind. How secretly and how insidiously may they undermine the fabric of virtue, by painting vice and folly in the alluring colours, and with the lively style of this ingenious author. The mind should be well informed, and the judgment properly matured, before young people indulge themselves in the unrestrained perusal of them.

The examples of virtue and noble qualities, exhibited by the author I have mentioned, are truly useful; but every writer of novels is not a Richardson: and what dreadful effects might the specious manners of a Lovelace have on the inexperienced mind, were they not detected by a just exhibition of his vices!

The noble conduct of Clementina and Miss Byron, are worthy of imitation; while the indiscretionof Clarissa, in putting herself under the protection of a libertine, is a warning to every fair. But both examples are often overlooked. While the ear is charmed with the style, and the fancy riots on the luxuriance of description, which so intimately blend the charms of virtue and the fascinations of vice, they are not readily distinguished by all.

I am not equally pleased with all Richardson’s writings; yet so multifarious are his excellencies, that his faults appear but specks, which serve as foils to display his beauties to better advantage.

Before I went from home I was engaged in reading a course of history; but I fear I shall not return from this flowery field to the dry and less pleasing path of more laborious studies. This is one disadvantage of novel reading. It dissipates the ideas, relaxes the mind, and renders it inattentive to the more solid and useful branches of literature. Adieu.

LAURA GUILFORD.

Boston.

DEAR MADAM,

Neither change of place nor situation can alienate my affections from you, or obliterate my grateful remembrance of your kindness.

Your admonitions and counsels have been the guide of my youth. The many advantages which I have already received from them, and the condescending readiness with which they were always administered, embolden me to solicit your direction and advice in a still more important sphere. The recommendation of my parents and friends, seconded by my own inclination, have induced me to yield my heart and engage my hand to Mr. Sylvanus Farmington, with whose character you are not unacquainted. Next Thursday is the era fixed for our union. O madam, how greatly shall I need a monitor like you! Sensible of my own imperfections, I look forward with diffidence and apprehension, blended with pleasing hopes, to this new and untried state!

Your experienced pen can teach me how to discharge the duties, divide the cares, and enjoy the pleasures, peculiar to the station on which I am entering. Pray extend your benevolence, and communicate your sentiments on female deportment in the connubial relation. Practising upon such a model, I may still be worthy the appellation, which it will ever be my ambition to deserve, of your affectionate friend and pupil,

HARRIOT HENLY.

To MissHARRIOT HENLY.

Harmony-Grove.

Indeed, my dear Harriot, you are making an important change of situation; a change interesting to you and your friends; a change which involves not only your own happiness, but the happiness of the worthy man whom you have chosen; of the family, over which you are to preside; and perhaps, too, of that with which you are to be connected.

I rejoice to hear that this connexion, on which so much depends, is not hastily formed; but that it is the result of long acquaintance, is founded on merit, and consolidated by esteem. From characters like yours, mutually deserving and excellent, brilliant examples of conjugal virtue and felicity may be expected. Yet as human nature is imperfect, liable to errors, and apt to deviate from the line of rectitude and propriety, a monitorial guide may be expedient and useful. Your partiality has led you to request thisboonof me; but diffidence of my own abilities compels me to decline the arduous task. Nevertheless, I have it happily in my power to recommend an abler instructor, who has written professedly upon the subject.The American Spectator, orMatrimonial Preceptor, lately published by Mr. David West, of Boston, contains all you canwish. The judicious compiler has collected and arranged his materials with admirable skill and address. Peruse this book, and you will be at no loss for counsels to direct, and cautions to guard you through the intricate cares and duties of the connubial life. The essays are, chiefly, extracted from the most approved English writers. The productions of so many able pens, properly disposed, and exhibited in a new and agreeable light, must not only be entertaining, but useful to every reader of taste and judgment. I wish this publication to be considered as a necessary piece of furniture by every housekeeper. The editor has certainly deserved well of his country; and Hymen should crown him with unfading garlands.

I shall visit you, my dear Harriot, after the happy knot (for such I flatter myself it will prove) is tied. In the mean time, I subscribe myself, with the most ardent wishes for your prosperity and happiness, your sincere friend,

MARY WILLIAMS.

Newburyport.

What think you of wit, Cleora? If you estimate it by the worth of your own, you thinkit an invaluable jewel. But this jewel is variously set. Yours is in the pure sterling gold of good sense: yet, as displayed by some, it glistens on the mere tinsel of gaiety, which will not bear the scrutinizing eye of judgment.

Yesterday I received a visit from a young lady, lately moved into this neighbourhood, who is reputed a wit. Her conversation reminded me of Pope’s satirical remark:

“There are, whom Heaven has bless’d with store of wit;But want as much again to manage it.”

“There are, whom Heaven has bless’d with store of wit;

But want as much again to manage it.”

I found her’s to consist in smart sayings, lively repartees, and ludicrous allusions.

So strong was her propensity to display this talent, that she could not resist any temptation which offered, though it led her to offend against the rules of politeness and generosity. As some persons of real genius were present, topics of literature and morality were discussed. Upon these she was mute as a statue; but whenever the playfulness of her fancy could find a subject, she was extremely loquacious. This induced me to suspect that the brilliance of her imagination had dazzled her understanding, and rendered her negligent of the more solid and useful acquisitions of the mind.

Is it not often the case, that those who are distinguished by any superior endowment, whether personal or mental, are too much elated by the consciousness of their pre-eminence,and think it sufficient to counterbalance every deficiency?

This, Mrs. Williams used to say, is owing to the want of self-knowledge; which, if once possessed, will enable us properly to estimate our own characters, and to ascertain with precision wherein we are defective, as well as wherein we excel. But it is the misfortune of us, young people, that we seldom attain this valuable science, till we have experienced many of the ills which result from the want of it. Ambition, vanity, flattery, or some such dazzling meteor, engrosses our attention, and renders us blind to more important qualifications.

But to return to this same wit, of which I was speaking. It is certainly a very dangerous talent, when imprudently managed. None that we can possess tends so directly to excite enmity, or destroy friendship.

An ill-natured wit is of all characters the most universally dreaded. People of this description are always feared, but rarely loved. Humanity and benevolence are essentially necessary to render wit agreeable. Accompanied by these, it cannot fail to please and entertain.

“Wit, how delicious to man’s dainty taste!’Tis precious as the vehicle of sense;But as its substitute, a dire disease!Pernicious talent! flatter’d by mankind,Yet hated too.————————Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound;When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam;Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.Wit, widow’d of good sense, is worse than naught;It hoists more sail to run against a rock.”

“Wit, how delicious to man’s dainty taste!

’Tis precious as the vehicle of sense;

But as its substitute, a dire disease!

Pernicious talent! flatter’d by mankind,

Yet hated too.————————

Sense is the diamond, weighty, solid, sound;

When cut by wit, it casts a brighter beam;

Yet, wit apart, it is a diamond still.

Wit, widow’d of good sense, is worse than naught;

It hoists more sail to run against a rock.”

But I believe I cannot give a better proof of my own wit, than to conclude this scribble before your patience is quite exhausted by the perusal. Adieu.

CAROLINE LITTLETON.

Harmony-Grove.

DEAR HARRIOT,

The first moment which I have been able to snatch from the affectionate embraces of my honored mamma, and my dear sister Maria, is devoted to you. Judging by the anxious solicitude of my own heart, I know you are impatient to hear of my safe arrival. It is needless to tell you how cordially I was received. You have witnessed the mutual tenderness which actuates our domestic circle. Where this is the governing principle, it is peculiarly interesting to sensibility. It is extremely exhilarating to the mind to revisit, after the shortest absence, the place of our nativity and juvenile happiness. “There is something so seducingin that spot, in which we first had our existence, that nothing but it can please. Whatever vicissitudes we experience in life, however we toil, or wheresoever we wander, our fatigued wishes still recur to home for tranquillity. We long to die in that spot which gave us birth, and in that pleasing expectation opiate every calamity.”[2]

2.Goldsmith.

The satisfaction of returning home, however, has not obliterated the pleasure which I enjoyed on my visit to you. Does not a change of scene and situation contribute to the happiness of life? The natural love of this variety seems wisely implanted in the human breast; for it enables us to accommodate ourselves with facility to the different circumstances in which we are placed. I believe that no pleasures make so deep an impression on the memory, as those of the first and most innocent period of our lives. With what apparent delight do persons, advanced in years, re-trace their puerile feats and diversions! “The hoary head looks back with a smile of complacency, mixed with regret, on the season when health glowed on the cheek, when lively spirits warmed the heart, and when toil strung the nerves with vigour.”[3]

3.Knox.

The pleasures of childhood and youth, when regulated by parental wisdom, and sweetened by filial affection and obedience, must be grateful to the recollection at any age: and for thisplain reason, because innocence and simplicity are their leading traits. How soothing, how animating, then, must be reflection, at the evening of a life, wholly spent in virtue and rectitude!

Pope observes that “Every year is a critique on the last. The man despises the boy, the philosopher the man, and the Christian all.” Happy are those who can take a retrospect of all, with the supporting consciousness that each part has been rightly performed! Adieu.

ANNA WILLIAMS.

Boston.

I am impatient for an opportunity of returning your civilities, my dear Matilda; and if possible, of repaying you some part of the pleasure, which you so liberally afforded me, during my late visit to your hospitable mansion. For this purpose, I must insist on the performance of your promise to spend the winter in town. It is true that I cannot contribute to your amusement in kind. Yet, according to the generally received opinion, thatvariety is necessary to the enjoyment of life, we may find ours mutually heightened by the exchange. Delightful rambles, and hours of contemplative solitude, free from the interruptions of formality and fashion, I cannot insure; but you may depend on all that friendship and assiduity can substitute; and while the bleak winds are howling abroad, a cheerful fireside, and a social circle, may dispel the gloom of the season. The pleasures of our family are very local. Few are sought, in which the understanding and affections can have no share. For this reason, a select, not a promiscuous acquaintance is cultivated. And however unfashionable our practice may be deemed, we can find entertainment, even in the dull hours of winter, without recourse to cards. Almost every other recreation affords some exercise and improvement to the body or mind, or both; but from this neither can result. The whole attention is absorbed by the game. Reason lies dormant, and the passions only are awake. However little is depending, the parties are frequently as much agitated by hope and fear, as if their all were at stake. It is difficult for the vanquished not to feel chagrin; while the victors are gratified at the expense of their friends. But the principal objection with me, is the utter exclusion of conversation; a source of pleasure, and of profit too, for which I can admit nothing as an equivalent. Winter evenings are peculiarly adapted to this rational and refined entertainment. Deprived ofthat variety of scenery, and those beauties of nature, which the vernal and autumnal seasons exhibit, we are obliged to have recourse to the fireside for comfort. Here we have leisure to collect our scattered ideas, and to improve, by social intercourse, and the exertion of our mental powers.

Our sex are often rallied on their volubility: and, for myself, I frankly confess, that I am so averse to taciturnity, and so highly prize the advantages of society and friendship, that I had rather plead guilty to the charge than relinquish them.

“Hast thou no friend to set thy mind a-broach?Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up, want air,And spoil, like bales unopen’d to the sun.Had thought been all, sweet speech had been deny’d;Speech, thought’s canal! Speech, thought’s criterion too.Thought, in the mine, may come forth gold or dross;When coin’d in word, we know its real worth:If sterling, store it for thy future use;’Twill buy thee benefit, perhaps renown.Thought, too, deliver’d, is the more possess’d;Teaching, we learn; and giving, we retainThe births of intellect: when dumb, forgot.Speech ventilates our intellectual fire:Speech burnishes our mental magazine:Brightens for ornament, and whets for use.”

“Hast thou no friend to set thy mind a-broach?

Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up, want air,

And spoil, like bales unopen’d to the sun.

Had thought been all, sweet speech had been deny’d;

Speech, thought’s canal! Speech, thought’s criterion too.

Thought, in the mine, may come forth gold or dross;

When coin’d in word, we know its real worth:

If sterling, store it for thy future use;

’Twill buy thee benefit, perhaps renown.

Thought, too, deliver’d, is the more possess’d;

Teaching, we learn; and giving, we retain

The births of intellect: when dumb, forgot.

Speech ventilates our intellectual fire:

Speech burnishes our mental magazine:

Brightens for ornament, and whets for use.”

Come then, Matilda, participate the pleasures, and accelerate the improvement, of your affectionate friend,

LAURA GUILFORD.

To MissLAURA GUILFORD.

Beverly.

DEAR LAURA,

Yours of the 9th ult. has just come to hand. It gave me renewed experience of the truth of the observation, that next to the personal presence and conversation, is the epistolary correspondence of a friend. I am preparing, with the most lively sensations of pleasure, to gratify my own wishes, and comply with your polite invitation. The romantic beauty of the rural scenes has forsaken me; and what can so amply compensate for their absence, as the charms you offer?

I envy you nothing which the town affords, but the advantages you derive from the choice of society adapted to your own taste. Your sentiments of the fashionable diversion of card-playing, are, in my view, perfectly just. I believe that many people join in it, because it is theton, rather than from any other motive. And as such persons generally pay the greatest deference to Lord Chesterfield’s opinions and maxims, I have often wondered how they happened to overlook, or disregard his animadversions upon this subject; and have felt a strong inclination to tell them, that thisall-accomplishedmaster of politeness, and oracle of pleasure, expressly says, “All amusements,where neither the understanding nor the senses can have the least share, I look upon as frivolous, and the resources of little minds, who either do not think, or do not love to think.”

We had a pretty party here, last evening; and a party it literally was; for it consisted entirely of ladies. This singular circumstance was remarked by one of the company, who, at least, pretended to think it agreeable, because, said she, we can now speak without restraint, or the fear of criticism. I confess that I was not prude enough to acquiesce in her opinion.

Ladies of delicacy and refinement will not countenance or support a conversation, which gentlemen of sense and sentiment can disapprove. As each were formed for social beings, and depend on the other for social happiness, I imagine that society receives its greatest charm from a mutual interchange of sentiment and knowledge.

“Both sexes are reciprocal instruments of each other’s improvement. The rough spirit of the one is tempered by the gentleness of the other, which has likewise its obligations to that spirit. Men’s sentiments contract a milder turn in the company of women, who, on the other hand, find their volatility abated in that of the men. Their different qualities, intermingling, form a happy symphony. From their intimate conjunction, their real advantages must be common and inseparable; and as for those ridiculous wranglings about superiority, they may be reckoned insults to nature,and betray a want of a due sense of its wise and gracious dispensations.”[4]

4.The Ladies’ Friend.

Many ladies affect to think it inconsistent with female reserve, to acknowledge themselves pleased with the company of the other sex; but while such are the objects and advantages of a mixed society, I blush not to own myself desirous of its cultivation. Adieu.

MATILDA FIELDING.

Boston.

DEAR CAROLINE,

I take the liberty to send you Bennet’s Letters. When my mamma put them into my hand, Sophia, said she, I recommend this book to your attentive perusal. It highly deserves it, and will richly reward your labour. You have, indeed, completed your school education; but you have much yet to learn. Improvements in knowledge are necessarily progressive. The human mind is naturally active and eager in pursuit of information; whichwe have various and continual means of accumulating: but never will you have a more favourable opportunity for the cultivation of your mind, than you now enjoy. You are now free from those domestic cares and avocations, which may hereafter fall to your lot, and occupy most of your time. Speculation must then give place to practice. Be assiduous, therefore, to increase the fund, that it may yield you a competent interest, and afford you a constant resource of support and enjoyment.

With these words she withdrew, while I was still listening to the sweet accents of maternal tenderness and discretion, which vibrated on my ear, even after her departure.

I find it worthy the recommendation of so good a judge. As a moral writer, the precepts and observations of its author are excellent; as a religious one, his piety is exemplary, and his instructions improving. His selection of books, which he deems most proper for our sex, though too numerous, perhaps, may, notwithstanding, assist and direct the young in their course of reading.

Who would not imitate his Louisa? In her he has forcibly displayed the beauties of an amiable disposition, and the advantages which eventhatmay derive from a virtuous and religious education.

These letters are not scholastic and elaborate dissertations; they are addressed to the heart; they are the native language of affection: and they can hardly fail to instil the loveof virtue into every mind susceptible of its charms.

If you have not read them, I will venture to predict that they will afford you entertainment, as well as instruction; and if youhave, they will bear a second perusal. Indeed, every valuable book should be re-perused. On a first reading, our curiosity to know something of all it contains, hurries us forward with a rapidity which outstrips both the memory and judgment.

When this predominant passion is gratified, an attentive review will commonly furnish many useful and important lessons, which had nearly or quite escaped our notice before.

This, by some, is deemed too laborious a task. They prefer company and conversation to reading of any kind; and allege, in defence of their opinion, that a knowledge of the world, and of human nature, together with that ease and gracefulness of manners, which are of the utmost consequence to all who would make a respectable figure in life, are much better obtained in this way, than by the cold and unimpassioned perusal of books.

But is not every acquisition of this sort merely superficial? Need we not a guide, superior to our own judgment and experience, to point out the line of duty and propriety, in the various conditions and relations of our existence?

Our acquaintance with living characters and manners can afford us but a very limited viewof mankind, in the different periods and stages of society. The inquisitive mind labours to extend its knowledge to the most distant climes and remote antiquity; and craves other materials for the exercise of its reflecting powers, than can be derived from occasional and desultory conversation. Now, by what means can this laudable curiosity be so effectually satisfied, as by the perusal of judicious and well chosen books? Not that I would depreciate the value of good company (for I esteem it highly;) but add its many advantages to those which reading affords. This combination must have a happy tendency to give us possession, both of the virtues and graces; and to render our attainments at once solid and ornamental.

What think you, Caroline? Do you agree with me in opinion? Let me hear from you by the first opportunity; and believe me yours most sincerely.

SOPHIA MANCHESTER.

Newburyport.

I thank you, my dear friend, for the book you were so obliging as to send me; and forthe letter which accompanied it. The book I had read; but as you justly observe, I must be a gainer by a second perusal.

Upon the subject of reading, I perfectly accord with you in sentiment. It is an amusement, of which I was always enthusiastically fond. Mrs. Williams regulated my taste; and, by directing and maturing my judgment, taught me to make it a source of refined and substantial pleasure. I do not wish to pursue study as a profession, nor to become a learned lady; but I would pay so much attention to it, as to taste the delights of literature, and be qualified to bear a part in rational and improving conversation. Indeed, I would treasure up such a fund of useful knowledge, as may properly direct my course through life, and prove an antidote against the vexations and disappointments of the world. I think, Sophia, that our sex stand in special need of such a resource to beguile the solitary hours which a domestic station commonly imposes. Is it not for the want of this that some females furnish a pretext for the accusation (which is illiberally brought against all) of having recourse to scandal, and the sallies of indelicate mirth? Conversation requires a perpetual supply of materials from the mind: and accordingly as the mind has been cultivated or neglected, dignified or degrading subjects will be introduced.

I received a letter yesterday from our lively and lovely friend, Anna Williams. Howdelightfully blended in this charming girl, are vivacity and sentiment, ease and propriety. Adieu.

CAROLINE LITTLETON.

Boston.

So often, my dear Maria, has the pen of the divine, the moralist, and the novelist been employed on the subject of female frailty and seduction; and so pathetically has each described the folly and misery of the fatal delusion which involves many in disgrace, that I am astonished when I see those, who have the best means of information, heedlessly sacrificing their reputation, peace and happiness to the specious arts of the libertine! In this case it is common for our sex to rail against the other, and endeavor to excite the pity of the world by painting the advantage which has been taken of their credulity and weakness. But are we not sufficiently apprised of the enemies we have to encounter? And have we not adequate motives to circumspection and firmness?

I am generally an advocate for my own sex—but when they suffer themselves to fall a prey to seducers, their pusillanimity admits no excuse. I am bold to affirm that every woman, by behaving with propriety on all occasions, may not only resist temptation, but repel the first attempts upon her honor and virtue.

That levity of deportment, which invites and encourages designers, ought studiously to be avoided. Flattery and vanity are two of the most dangerous foes to the sex. A fondness for admiration insensibly throws off their guard, and leads them to listen and give credit to the professions of those who lie in wait to deceive.

The following remarks, though severe, perhaps can hardly be deemed inconsistent with the character which their author assumes.[5]“Women would do well to forbear their declamations against the falsity and wickedness of men; the fault is theirs, to fall into such coarse-spun snares as are laid for them.

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