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LETTERS 
 
 TO 
 
 YOUNG LADIES. 
 
 BY 
 
 
 
 MRS. L. H. SIGOURNEY. 
 
 "Every sort of useful knowledge should be imparted to the young, not 
 merely for its own sake, but for the sake of its subserviency to higher 
 things."— Mas. Hannah More. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 NEW-YORK- 
 HARPER & BROTHERS 
 
 No. 82 CLIFF-STREET. 
 1837. 
 
v^ v 
 
 v* 
 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 183(5, by 
 
 HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of 
 New York. 
 

 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 PREFACE, 7 
 
 ADDRESS TO THE GUARDIANS OF FEMALE 
 
 EDUCATION, 9 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 VALUE OF TIME, 17 
 
 LETTER II. 
 RELIGION, 29 
 
 LETTER III. 
 KNOWLEDGE, 47 
 
4 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 INDUSTRY, 64 
 
 i 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 DOMESTIC EMPLOYMENTS, 78 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 HEALTH AND DRESS 92 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS, .... 105 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 SISTERLY VIRTUES, ".120 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 BOOKS, 133 
 
 LETTER X. 
 FRIENDSHIP, 152 
 
 LETTER XI. 
 CHEERFULNESS, 165 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 CONVERSATION, . . 173 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 BENEVOLENCE 189 
 
INDEX. 5 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 LETTER XIV. 
 
 SELF-CONTROL, 209 
 
 LETTER XV. 
 UTILITY, 231 
 
 LETTER XVI. 
 MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE, 249 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I have been requested to address a few thoughts to 
 the youth of my own sex, on subjects of simple nature, 
 and serious concern. The employment has been pleas- 
 ant, for their interests are dear to me; and several 
 years devoted to their instruction, have unfolded more 
 fully their claims to regard, and the influence they 
 might exercise in society. Should a single heart, in 
 "life's sweet blossoming season," derive, from this 
 little volume, aid, guidance, or consolation, tenfold 
 satisfaction will be added to the pleasure with which 
 it has been composed. 
 
ADDRESS 
 
 TO THE 
 
 GUARDIANS OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 
 
 In preparing " Letters to Young Ladies," some 
 reflections have arisen, which claim the attention 
 of the guardians of their education — of those who 
 either prescribe its limits, conduct its details, or 
 rule the mighty engine of publick opinion . They 
 are offered without apology, since the subject of 
 education is now considered worthy to dictate the 
 studies of the sage, the plans of the political econ- 
 omist, and the labours of the patriot. " The mind 
 of the present age acting on the mind of the next," 
 as it has been happily defined by a living writer, 
 is an object of concern to every being endowed 
 with intellect, or interested either through love or 
 hope, in another generation. 
 
 Nor has the importance of education in the ab- 
 stract, been alone conceded. Practical researches 
 for its improvement, have signalized our age and 
 incorporated themselves with its vigorous and ad- 
 vancing spirit. Our most gifted minds have toiled 
 
10 TO THE GUARDIANS 
 
 to devise methods for the instruction of the hum- 
 blest grades of community, and to make useful 
 knowledge the guest of the common people. 
 
 In this elevation of the intellectual standard, our 
 sex have been permitted freely to participate. No 
 Moslem interdict continues to exclude them from 
 the temple of knowledge, and no illusion of chiv- 
 alry exalts them to an airy height, above life's du- 
 ties, and its substantial joys. 
 
 We are grateful for our heightened privileges. 
 We hope that those who have bestowed them, 
 will be no losers by their liberality. Still we be- 
 lieve that an increase of benefits may be made 
 profitable both to giver, and receiver. We so- 
 licit them in the name of the blooming and the 
 beautiful — those rose-buds in the wreath of our 
 country's hope. 
 
 It is desirable that their education should be dif- 
 fused over a wider space of time, and one less en- 
 cumbered by extraneous objects, and that the depth 
 of its foundation should be more correctly propor- 
 tioned to the imposing aspect, and redundant orna- 
 ment of its superstructure. Is it not important 
 that the sex to whom Nature has intrusted the 
 moulding of the whole mass of mind in its first for- 
 mation, should be acquainted with the structure and 
 developments of mind ? — that they who are to nur- 
 ture the future rulers of a prosperous people, should 
 be able to demonstrate from the broad annal of his- 
 tory, the value of just laws, and the duty of subordi- 
 nation — the blessings which they inherit, and the 
 
OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 11 
 
 danger of their abuse ? Is it not requisite, that 
 they on whose bosom the infant heart must be cher- 
 ished, should be vigilant to watch its earliest pul- 
 sations of good or evil ? — that they who are com- 
 missioned to light the lamp of the soul, should 
 know how to feed it with pure oil ? — that they in 
 whose hand is the welfare of beings never to die, 
 should be fitted to, perform the work, and earn the 
 plaudit of Heaven ? 
 
 That the vocation of females is to teach, has been 
 laid down as a position, which it is impossible to 
 contravert. In seminaries, academies and schools, 
 they possess peculiar facilities for coming in con- 
 tact with the unfolding and unformed mind. It is 
 true, that only a small proportion are engaged in 
 the departments of publick and systematick instruc- 
 tion. Yet the hearing of recitations, and the rou- 
 tine of scholastick discipline, are but parts of edu- 
 cation. It is in the domestick sphere, in her own 
 native province, that woman is inevitably a teacher. 
 There she modifies by her example, her dependants, 
 her companions, every dweller under her own roof. 
 Is not the infant in its cradle, her pupil 1 Does 
 not her smile give the earliest lesson to its soul ? 
 Is not her prayer the first messenger for it in the 
 court of Heaven ? Does she not enshrine her own 
 image in the sanctuary of the young child's mind, 
 so firmly that no revulsion can displace, no idolatry 
 supplant it ? Does she not guide the daughter, un- 
 til placing her hand in that of her husband, she 
 reaches that pedestal, from whence, in her turn, she 
 
12 TO THE OUARDIAN3 
 
 imparts to others, the stamp and colouring which 
 she has herself received ? Might she not, even 
 upon her sons, engrave what they shall take un- 
 changed through all the temptations of time, to the 
 bar of the last judgment ? Does not the influence 
 of woman rest upon every member of her household, 
 like the dew upon the tender herb, or the sunbeam 
 silently educating the young flower? or as the 
 shower, and the sleepless stream, cheer and invig- 
 orate the proudest tree of the forest ? 
 
 Admitting then, that whether she wills it or not, 
 whether she even knows it or not, she is still a 
 teacher — and perceiving that the mind in its most 
 plastick state is yielded to her tutelage, it becomes 
 a most momentous inquiry what she shall be quali- 
 fied to teach. Will she not of necessity impart 
 what she most prizes, and best understands. Has 
 she not power to impress her own lineaments on 
 the next generation 1 If wisdom and utility have 
 been the objects of her choice, society will surely 
 reap the benefit. If folly and self-indulgence are 
 her prevailing characteristicks, posterity are in 
 danger of inheriting the likeness. 
 
 This influence is most visible and operative in 
 a republick. The intelligence and virtue of its 
 every citizen have a heightened relative value. — 
 Its safety may be interwoven with the destiny 
 of those, whose birthplace is in obscurity. The 
 springs of its vitality are liable to be touched, or 
 the chords of its harmony to be troubled, by the 
 rudest hands. 
 
OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 13 
 
 Teachers under such a form of government 
 should be held in the highest honour. They are 
 the allies of legislators. They have agency in 
 the prevention of crime. They aid in regulating 
 the atmosphere, whose incessant action and 
 pressure causes the life-blood to circulate, and 
 return pure and healthful to the heart of the 
 nation. 
 
 Of what unspeakable importance then, is her 
 education, who gives lessons before any other in- 
 structor — who pre-occupies the unwritten page of 
 being — who produces impressions which only 
 death can obliterate — and mingles with the cra- 
 dle-dream what shall be read in Eternity. Well 
 may statesmen and philosophers debate how 
 she may be best educated, who is to educate all 
 mankind. 
 
 The ancient republicks overlooked the value of 
 that sex, whose strength is in the heart. Greece, 
 so susceptible to the principle of beauty, so skilled 
 in wielding all the elements of grace, failed in ap- 
 preciating their excellence, whom these had most 
 exquisitely adorned. If, in the brief season of 
 youthful charm, she was constrained to admire 
 woman as the acanthus-leaf of her own Corin- 
 thian capital, she did not discover that, like that 
 very column, she was capable of adding stability 
 to the proud temple of freedom. She would not 
 bev convinced that so feeble a hand might have 
 aided to consolidate the fabrick, which philosophy 
 embellished, and luxury overthrew. 
 
 2 
 
14 TO THE GUARDIANS 
 
 Rome, notwithstanding her primeval rudeness, 
 seems more correctly than polished Greece, to 
 have estimated the " weaker vessel." Here and 
 there, upon the storm-driven billows of her history, 
 some solitary form towers upward in majesty, and 
 the mother of the Gracchi still stands forth in 
 strong relief, amid imagery over which time has 
 no power. But still, wherever the brute force of 
 the warrior is counted godlike, woman is appreci- 
 ated only as she approximates to sterner natures : 
 as in that mysterious image which troubled the 
 sleep of Assyria's king — the foot of clay derived 
 consistence from the iron, which held it in combi- 
 nation. 
 
 In our own republick, man, invested by his 
 Maker with the right to reign, has conceded to 
 her, who was for ages in vassalage, equality of in- 
 tercourse, participation in knowledge, dominion 
 over his dearest and fondest hopes. He is con- 
 tent to " bear the burden and heat of the day," 
 that she may dwell in ease and affluence. Yet, 
 from the very felicity of her lot, dangers are gen- 
 erated. She is tempted to be satisfied with super- 
 ficial attainments, or to indulge in that indolence 
 which corrodes intellect, and merges the high 
 sense of responsibility in its alluring and fatal 
 slumbers. 
 
 These tendencies should be neutralized by a 
 thorough and laborious education. Sloth and lux- 
 ury must have no place in her vocabulary. Her 
 youth should be surrounded by every motive to 
 
OF FEMALE EDUCATION. 15 
 
 application, and her maturity dignified by the hal- 
 lowed office of rearing the immortal mind. While 
 her partner toils for his stormy portion of that 
 power or glory, from which it is her privilege to 
 be sheltered, let her feel that in the recesses of do- 
 mestick privacy, she still renders a noble service 
 to the government that protects her, by sowing 
 seeds of purity and peace in the hearts of those, 
 who shall hereafter claim its honours, or control 
 its destinies. 
 
 Her place is amid the quiet shades, to watch 
 the little fountain ere it has breathed a murmur. 
 But the fountain will break forth into a rill, and 
 the swollen rivulet rush towards the sea; — and 
 who can be so well able to guide them hi right 
 channels, as she who heard their first ripple, and 
 saw them emerge like timid strangers from their 
 source, and had kingly power over those infant- 
 waters, in the name of Him who caused them to 
 flow. 
 
 And now, Guardians of Education, whether pa- 
 rents, preceptors, or legislators — you who have so 
 generously lavished on woman the means of 
 knowledge — complete your bounty, by urging her 
 to gather its treasures with a tireless hand. De- 
 mand of her as a debt, the highest excellence 
 which she is capable of attaining. Summon her 
 to abandon selfish motives, and inglorious ease. 
 Incite her to those virtues which promote the 
 permanence and health of nations. Make her 
 accountable for the character of the next genera- 
 
16 FEMALE EDUCATION. 
 
 tion. Give her solemn charge, in the presence of 
 men and of angels. Gird her with the whole ar- 
 mour of education and of piety — and see if she 
 be not faithful to her children, to her country, and 
 to her God. 
 
LETTER I. 
 
 VALUE OF TIME. 
 
 As nothing truly valuable, my dear young 
 friends, can be attained without industry, so there 
 can be no persevering industry, without a sense of 
 the value of time. Youth would be too happy, 
 might it add to its own beauty and felicity, the 
 wisdom of riper years. Were it possible for it to 
 realize the worth of time, as life's receding hours 
 will reveal it, how rapidly would it press on tow- 
 ards perfection. It is too often the case, that the 
 period allotted to education, is but imperfectly 
 appreciated, till it approaches its close, or has 
 actually departed. Then, its recollections are 
 mingled with regret or repentance ; for experience 
 is more frequently the fruit of our own mistakes 
 and losses, than the result of the admonitions and 
 counsels of others. 
 
 Still, the young are sometimes found sedulously 
 regarding the flight of time, and zealously mark- 
 ing it with mental and moral excellence. Illus- 
 trating in their practice, the aspiration of the 
 Psalmist, they learn " to number their days, that 
 they may apply their hearts unto wisdom." 
 
 Suffer me, then, with the urgency of true 
 
18 VALUE OF TIME. 
 
 friendship, to impress on you the importance of a 
 just estimation of time. Consider how much is 
 to be performed, attained, and conquered, ere you 
 are fitted to discharge the duties which the sphere 
 of woman comprehends. Think of the brevity of 
 life. The most aged have compared it to a span 
 in compass — and to a shuttle in flight. Compute 
 its bearings upon the bliss or wo of eternity, and 
 remember if mispent, it can never be recalled. 
 Other errors admit of reformation. Lost wealth 
 may be regained, by a course of industry ; — the 
 wreck of health, repaired by temperance ; — for- 
 gotten knowledge, restored by study ; — alienated 
 friendship soothed into forgiveness : — even forfeit- 
 ed reputation won back by penitence and virtue. 
 But who ever again looked upon his vanished 
 hours ? — recalled his slighted years and stamped 
 them with wisdom ? — or effaced from Heaven's 
 record, the fearful blot of a wasted life ? 
 
 The waste of time in youth, is a greater evil 
 than at any other period of existence. " The mis- 
 improvement of youthful days," says an elegant 
 writer, " is more than the mere loss of time. 
 Figure to yourself the loss that the year would 
 sustain were the spring taken away : such a loss 
 do they sustain who trifle in youth." 
 
 When there is so much to be done for individ- 
 ual improvement, in the formation of correct 
 habits, and preparation for untried duty — so much 
 for parents and benefactors, to pay even imper- 
 fectly the debt of gratitude — so much for broth- 
 
VALUE OF TIME. 19 
 
 ers, and sisters, and friends — so much for the 
 poor, the uneducated, the afflicted — so much in 
 obedience to Him who hath commanded us to 
 " work out our own salvation with fear and trem- 
 bling ;" how unreasonable is it to do but little, and 
 to do that little carelessly ! how sinful to trifle 
 away our time in light amusement, or profitless 
 pursuit ! It is no excuse for us, that others waste 
 their days in desultory pleasures, or pass their 
 youth without .motive and without improvement. 
 Every one must stand alone to give account at 
 last. The example of an associate will not be 
 accepted as a palliation, nor the habit of excuse, 
 however it might have deceived men, justify us 
 before a judge who readeth the intents of the 
 heart. 
 
 The successful improvement of time, is aided 
 by order in its distribution. A division of the day 
 into parts, facilitates the successful discharge of 
 its duties. Many of those who have become emi- 
 nent in science and literature, have adhered to a 
 systematick arrangement of time. King Alfred, 
 who so remedied the defects of early education, as 
 to gain distinction in the field of intellect, as well 
 as in the annals of royalty, was an example of 
 regularity. He divided the twenty-four hours 
 into three equal portions. One of these periods 
 of eight hours was, devoted to the duties of reli- 
 gion, one to repose, recreation and literature, and 
 the other to the cares of his realm. Sir William 
 Jones, who acquired the knowledge of twenty- 
 
20 VALUE OF TIME. 
 
 eight languages, and whose attainments in all thai 
 ennoble man were such, that it was pronounced a 
 " happiness to his race that he was born," perse- 
 vered in a regular allotment of his time to partic- 
 ular occupations, and a scrupulous adherence to 
 the distribution which he had established. Thus 
 his great designs went on without confusion ; and 
 so convinced was he of the excellence of daily 
 system, and so humble in the estimation of his 
 native endowments, that to the inquiry how his 
 wonderful attainments in every branch of know- 
 ledge had been made, he was accustomed to reply, 
 only by industry and regular application. 
 
 Though the path of distinction in science and 
 literature may not be the object of our ambition, 
 yet in the sphere allotted to our sex, order and 
 method are of essential importance. The assign- 
 ing daily duty to particular hours, helps to ensure 
 its performance. The system must often yield to 
 circumstances, and be subject to interruptions, yet 
 by keeping its general features steadily in view, 
 more will be accomplished, and to better purpose 
 than by desultory effort. 
 
 Consider every day, my dear young friends, as 
 a sacred gift from the Author of your being. Di- 
 vide it between the duties you owe to Him, to 
 yourselves, and your fellow-creatures. Remem- 
 ber that you are held responsible at a higher tri- 
 bunal than that of earth, for the manner in which 
 they are discharged. Keep these three great de- 
 partments before the eye of the mind. Propor- 
 
ViLUE OF TIME. 21 
 
 tion the day between them, as the promised land 
 was divided by lot among the chosen tribes. 
 Consult those whom it is your duty to obey or to 
 please, respecting the appropriation of hours to 
 employments. Use discretion and kindness in not 
 interfering with the convenience of those around, 
 and then evince decision in not yielding to slight 
 obstacles. When your system is once correctly 
 established, let it be understood that it is not 
 lightly to be set aside. When it must unavoid- 
 ably yield, make use of it as an exercise of pa- 
 tience and gentleness. 
 
 With the first light of the morning say to your 
 waking heart : " Behold another day, to be divided 
 between the Giver, your own improvement, and 
 the good of those with whom you are associated." 
 Secure by early rising, those hours, when the 
 frame is refreshed by repose, and the mind clear 
 and vigorous with consciousness of renovated ex- 
 istence. Commence your day with devotion, the 
 reading of the Scriptures, and meditation. As far 
 as possible, let these sacred duties be in solitude 
 and secrecy between yourself and your Maker. 
 Raised by his hand from the helplessness of slum- 
 ber, dependant on it for protection throughout the 
 unknown changes of a day which may be your 
 last on earth, let the young heart pour out its grat- 
 itude and hope, as living incense on the breath of 
 the rising morn. 
 
 When the celebrated Boerhaave was inquired 
 of, how he was able to acquire and to perform so 
 
22 VALUE OF TIME. 
 
 much, he answered : " It is my morning hour of 
 prayer and meditation that gives me spirit and 
 vigour during the labours of the day." He enjoined 
 this practice on his friends, as one of the best 
 rules in his power to give, conducive both to 
 health of body, tranquillity of mind, and right con- 
 duct under the various allotments of providence. 
 Were it necessary to multiply arguments, the ex- 
 ample of the pious in all ages might be adduced 
 to sanction the practice of hallowing the morning 
 by devotion. The changes of the day, though it 
 open with the smile of hope, are unknown. It 
 may lead to unexpected trial. It may test the 
 firmness of your soul by sudden prosperity. It 
 may open the fountain of tears. It may summon 
 you to that pale assembly, who have no longer 
 any share in the things done under the sun. It 
 will certainly bring you nearer to their narrow 
 house. Take therefore with you a blessing, the 
 solicited guidance uf divine grace, the leadings of 
 that pure spirit which can sustain the infirmities 
 of our nature, and " what is dark, illumine ; what 
 is low, raise and support." 
 
 The second division of the duties of the day 
 regards yourself. Much is required of the young 
 to fit themselves for respectability and usefulness 
 in life. Much is required of our sex, in the pres- 
 ent state of society, and by the spirit of an age 
 rapidly advancing in improvement. Be true to 
 every just expectation. Regard it as a privilege 
 that much is expected of you. The care of your 
 
VALUE OF TIME. 23 
 
 health, the advance of your mind in knowledge by- 
 study and contemplation, dexterity and diligence in 
 the varied circle of dome stick employment, atten- 
 tion to such accomplishments as your station may 
 require, the whole field of physical, mental and 
 moral culture, which opens before her who is de- 
 termined that her husbandry shall not be faithless, 
 nor her harvest light, is too wide and diversified to 
 admit of rules being given you by another, except 
 the injunction that as far as is in your power, each 
 portion should have its allotted period. 
 
 The third department of daily duty regards our 
 fellow-beings. To be engrossed wholly by our 
 own pursuits, creates selfishness. It is possible 
 for the intellect to be cultivated at the expense of 
 the heart. Therefore our obligations to those 
 with w r hom we travel on " time's brief journey," 
 should be clearly denned. This interchange aids 
 in forming habits of disinterested kindness, and in 
 preparing our nature for some of its most delight- 
 ful affections. The duties which we owe to pa- 
 rents, benefactors, and teachers, claim a pre-emi- 
 nent place in our regard. Though we may not 
 hope to repay according to what we have receiv- 
 ed ; let us not be deficient in any testimony of 
 gratitude which it is in our power to render. 
 
 There is one virtue which I wish to recommend 
 to your attention, my young friends, in which the 
 present age has been pronounced deficient. I 
 mean, respect to the aged. To " honour the hoary 
 head, and rise up before the face of the old man," 
 
24 VALUEOPTIME. 
 
 is a command of Jehovah. Those who have 
 borne the burdens of life until strength has failed, 
 in whose bosoms are treasures of experience to 
 which we are strangers, whose virtues are con- 
 firmed beyond the fear of change or fluctuation, 
 and who by the short space that divides their ri- 
 pened piety from its reward, may be literally said 
 to be " but a little lower than the angels," are 
 surely worthy of the veneration of youth. Even 
 when age is seen united with infirmity of purpose, 
 or decay of those organs, through which the mind 
 has been accustomed to act, it is entitled to ten- 
 derness from those who must themselves tread the 
 same path of withered and wearied energies, un- 
 less they go down to an earlier grave. The aged 
 are soothed by the marked respect of the young, 
 and the tribute is graceful to those who render it. 
 
 Attention to brothers, sisters, and companions, 
 culture of social feelings, punctuality in promises, 
 kindness and courtesy to all, open an important 
 and interesting sphere of action. Good offices to 
 the poor, the uneducated, the afflicted, you will 
 also as you have opportunity, comprehend within 
 your social or relative department of duty. 
 
 Close the day by the same sacred services with 
 which it commenced. Add also the exercise of 
 self-examination. Compare the performances in 
 each division of duty with the requisitions enfor- 
 ced in the morning. Inquire of the first allotted 
 period, what hast thou done to render the soul 
 more acceptable to pure eyes ? — of the second, 
 
VALUE OP TIME. 25 
 
 what armour hast thou given the mind for life's 
 warfare ? — of the third, how hast thou aided the 
 heart to advance the happiness of others 1 Let 
 each hour bring its report. Marshalled under 
 their respective leaders, bid them pass the review 
 of conscience. May it be found that none have 
 slumbered at their post, none broken their ranks, 
 none deserted to the enemy. Something will be 
 gathered from the tablet of the most faultless day — 
 for regret. Something also for encouragement. 
 Something for praise, to the Giver of " every good 
 and perfect gift." 
 
 One useful adjunct in this work of self-inspec- 
 tion is a Journal. It seems like the visible pres- 
 ence of a friend, whose frown makes folly asha- 
 med, and whose smile gives confidence to virtue. 
 It preserves what else might be forgotten, and 
 plants way-marks and scatters mementoes, at 
 every footstep of our pilgrimage. It gives an ar- 
 tificial length to life, by clothing the buried past in 
 fresh and living imagery, and aiding us to retrace, 
 
 As in a map, the voyager his course, 
 The windings of our way for many years. 
 
 Though in the seclusion of the domestick sphere, 
 the course of passing events will usually be too 
 monotonous to justify narration, yet the current of 
 feeling and sentiment, the authors with whom we 
 are conversant, and the reflections of a mind in 
 search of knowledge and truth, will always fur- 
 nish something worthy of memorial, so that " no 
 
 3 
 
26 VALUE OP TIME, 
 
 day need be without its line." If the habit of 
 writing a Journal is commenced, it should be daily 
 observed, as its interest declines with any irregu- 
 larity. Like a true friend, it cannot bear neglect 
 unmoved* Those who have tested its utility for 
 years, have pronounced it a valuable assistant in 
 fixing the eye of the mind on the never-staying 
 flight of time, and in keeping vivid in the heart, 
 the lessons taught by the discipline of Heaven. 
 They have also supposed that they found ben- 
 efit by copying in its pages, questions like the 
 following, with their correspondent replies, and 
 adopting them as rules of conduct : — 
 
 1. Will you endeavour to establish a daily sys- 
 tematick division of time, with a view to improve- 
 ment ? 
 
 2. Will you ask the concurrence of those whose 
 wishes and convenience you are bound to consult ? 
 
 3. Will you not unnecessarily recede from your 
 system, nor renounce it in despair because it is 
 often interrupted ? 
 
 4. At what hour will you rise ? 
 
 5. How much time will you allow to the sacred 
 duties of the morning ? 
 
 6. What part of the day will you devote to the 
 careful perusal of books for the attainment of use- 
 ful knowledge ? 
 
 7. What period will you allot to the needle, and 
 the various departments of domestick industry ? 
 
 8. What part to healthful exercise, accomplish- 
 ments and recreation ? 
 
VALUE OP TIME. 27 
 
 9. What part to the comfort of relatives, friends 
 and the family circle ? 
 
 10. What period to the relief of poverty, afflic- 
 tion and ignorance ? 
 
 1 1 . At what hour will you retire to repose ? 
 
 12. Will you close the day by religious exer- 
 cises, and a careful retrospect of its several hours 
 and duties ? 
 
 Perseverance in such a course will render the 
 remembrance of your days delightful, and give to 
 your life a diadem of beauty, and a crown of wis- 
 dom. Do not relinquish your attempts to realize 
 the value of time, until you have learned to esti- 
 mate its smaller portions. An hour faithfully im- 
 proved may accomplish much. It was a rule of 
 the excellent Bishop Taylor, that at the striking of 
 every clock, we should enter with renewed vigour 
 upon the appropriate duty of the new hour, and 
 lift up the heart for God's assistance and blessing. 
 The philosopher was wise who affixed to his study- 
 door the inscription, " Time is my estate. If I 
 lose an hour how shall I repay the debt ?" In the 
 science of economy, the sage Franklin enjoined 
 the care of half pence. In a system of thorough 
 improvement of time, the care of half hours, is 
 equally essential. With respect to many of the 
 other gifts of Heaven, our perception is quick, and 
 our attachment ardent. We prize beauty because 
 it charms the eye, though it fades like the summer- 
 rose ; wealth, because it purchases the things that 
 we call good, though they perish in the using ; 
 
28 VALUE OF TIME. 
 
 reputation, because the consciousness of it is 
 pleasant, though a breath may blast it ; let us not 
 then forget to value above all these possessions — 
 time, which may be so improved as to purchase 
 the bliss of eternity. 
 
 " Great God !" says the eloquent Massillon, 
 " for what purpose dost thou leave us here on 
 earth, but to render ourselves worthy of thine eter- 
 nal inheritance ! Every thing that we do for the 
 world shall perish with it, whatsoever we do for 
 thee shall be immortal. And what shall we say to 
 thee, on the bed of death, when thou shalt enter 
 into judgment with us, and demand an account of 
 the time which thou didst grant to be employed 
 in glorifying and serving thee ? Shall we say, 
 we have had friends to boast of on earth, but have 
 acquired none to ourselves in heaven ; we have 
 made every exertion to please men, and none to 
 please the Almighty? And shall it be written 
 upon our lives — time lost for eternity? 
 
LETTER II. 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 In the education of the young, one of our first 
 inquiries should be, what pursuits are the most in- 
 dispensable, and what attainments best adapted to 
 their probable sphere of action. In estimating the 
 sciences, we take into view, both their present 
 utility, and their future gain. The most assiduous 
 attention should be allotted to those, which Avill be 
 most imperatively demanded. We persevere in 
 teaching a child to speak, to read, and to write his 
 native language — because through these mediums 
 alone, is he to acquire and communicate ideas. 
 
 The relative value of attainments is affected by 
 the different stages and conditions of human life. 
 Those are held most valuable, which extend their 
 influence over the greatest space of time. Some 
 accomplishments are adapted to the season of 
 youth, and with it pass away. These possess a 
 fugitive value, when compared with the whole 
 extent of life. They are like the tint upon the 
 blossom, which fades that the fruit may ripen. 
 
 Some acquisitions depend on the perfection of 
 the senses. Their standard of value, must be also 
 fluctuating. Where is the exquisite skill of the en- 
 
 3* 
 
30 RELIGION. 
 
 graver — or the delicate touch of the miniature- 
 painter — when the eye grows dim ? Where is 
 the power of the master of sweet sounds, when the 
 harp of the ear is broken ? — or of the constructer 
 of delicate mechanism, when the hand is para- 
 lyzed ? — or of the orator, when the valve of the 
 lungs plays no more at the bidding of eloquent 
 thought ? 
 
 It would seem that the purely intellectual scien- 
 ces might possess a more inherent value. Par- 
 taking of the nature of the mind, they are less de- 
 pendant on the changes of material things. But 
 memory, the keeper of all knowledge, is subject 
 to accident. Disease may impair its tenacity, or 
 age destroy it. 
 
 Is there then any science, which is attainable 
 at every period of life — and available till its close ? 
 whose processes are not disturbed though the eye 
 withdraw its light — or the ear its counsel — or the 
 right hand its cunning — or the tongue its musick? 
 whose results are not confused when age gropes 
 in the mazes of doubt and imbecility ? whose 
 treasures are not lost, though time, turning as a 
 robber upon memory, strews the fine gold -of its 
 casket on the winds ? 
 
 I knew a man, distinguished alike by native 
 talent, and classical acquisition. In his boyhood, 
 he loved knowledge, and the teachers of know- 
 ledge. He selected that profession which taxes 
 intellect with the most severity, and became em- 
 inent both in the theory and practice of jurispru- 
 
RELIGION. 31 
 
 dence. While manhood, and the hopes of ambi- 
 tion, and the joys of affection were fresh about 
 him, disease attacked him, by its fearful ministers 
 of paralysis and blindness. So he lived for years, 
 without the power of motion, or the blessing of 
 sight. Among those whom he had served, coun- 
 selled and commanded, he was but a broken ves- 
 sel. Yet light shone inwardly, without a cloud. 
 A science, which in youth he had cultivated, con- 
 tinued its active operations, though the " eye was 
 dim, and the natural force abated." Communi- 
 cating power of endurance, and opening sources 
 of profitable contemplation — it brought a cheerful 
 smile to the brow of that sufferer, who, sightless 
 and motionless on his bed, was counted by the 
 unreflecting, but as a wreck of humanity. And 
 this science was religion. 
 
 There was a man who had won eminence in the 
 ranks of fame, and whom his country delighted to 
 honour. Ennobled both by erudition and integ- 
 rity, he had walked on the high places of the earth, 
 il without spot, and blameless." I saw him, when 
 almost a hundred winters had past over him. 
 Like the aged Gileadite, he was able no longer to 
 hear the " voice of singing-men, or of singing- 
 women." The beautiful residence which his own 
 taste had ornamented, spread its charms to an un- 
 conscious owner. The rose and the vine-flower 
 breathed their fragrance for others, and the flocks 
 in his green pastures, once his delight, roamed 
 unheeded. 
 
32 RELIGION. 
 
 I bore him a message of love from a friend of 
 early days, who had stood with him among states- 
 men, when the nation was in jeopardy, and when 
 mutual danger, draws more closely the bonds of 
 affection. But the links of friendship, once inter- 
 woven with the essence of his being, were sun- 
 dered. Between the recollections that I fain 
 would have restored, and the speech that clothed 
 them, there was a " great gulf fixed." Both the 
 name and image of the cherished companion had 
 fled for ever. 
 
 A vase of massy silver was brought forth, on 
 which his country had caused to be sculptured, the 
 record of his services, and of her gratitude. He 
 gazed vacantly upon it. No chord of association 
 vibrated. The love of honourable distinction, so 
 long burning like a perpetual incense-flame on the 
 altar of a great mind, had forsaken its temple. I 
 felt a tear start at the humbling thought, that of 
 all he had gotten, nothing remained. At parting, 
 something was mentioned of the Deity, the benefi- 
 cent Father of us all. Those lips, hitherto so im- 
 moveable, trembled. The cold, blue eye sparkled, 
 as through frost. The thin, bloodless hand clasped 
 mine, as he uttered with a startling energy :— 
 
 " When by the whelming tempest borne, 
 
 High o'er the broken wave, 
 I knew thou wert not slow to hear, 
 
 Nor impotent to save." 
 
 And as I slowly passed down the avenue frore 
 
RELIGION. 33 
 
 that patriarchial mansion, I heard his voice lifted 
 in prayer, and learned that its spirit might survive 
 — even when the endowments of a mighty intel- 
 lect, and the precious consciousness of a pure 
 renown, were alike effaced from the tablet of 
 remembrance. 
 
 Among those who serve at God's altar, was 
 one, who had faithfully discharged through a long 
 life, the holy duties of his vocation. He lingered 
 after his contemporaries had gone to rest. By the 
 fireside of his only son, he sat in peaceful dignity, 
 and the children of another generation loved his 
 silver locks. In that quiet recess, memory was 
 lulled to sleep. The names of even familiar 
 things, and the images held most indelible, faded 
 as a dream. Still he lived on — cheered by that 
 reverence which is due to the " hoary head, when 
 found in the way of righteousness." At length, 
 his vigour failed. The staff could no longer sup- 
 port his tottering steps, and nature tended to her 
 last repose. * 
 
 It was attempted by the repetition of his own 
 name, to awaken the torpor of memory. But he 
 replied, " I know not the man." Mention was 
 made of his only son, the idol of his early years, 
 whose filial gratitude had taken every form and 
 office of affection : " I have no son" The ten- 
 der epithet by which he had designated his fa- 
 vourite grandchild was repeated : " i" have no little 
 darling" Among the group of friends who sur- 
 rounded his bed, there was one who spoke of the 
 
34 RELIGION. 
 
 Redeemer of man. The aged suddenly raised 
 himself upon his pillow. His eye kindled, as 
 when from the pulpit, in the vigour of his days, 
 he had addressed an audience whom he loved. 
 " J remember that Saviour. Yes — I do remem- 
 ber the Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 There seems then to be a science which sur- 
 vives when the body is powerless — and age 
 sweeps away the hoarded gems of learning and 
 the emblems of fame : which prolongs enjoyment 
 when memory has departed, and when those affec- 
 tions which are the first to quicken, and the last 
 to decay, become as cold clay about the heart- 
 strings. 
 
 Perceiving that adversity happens to all, the 
 young would naturally inquire, if there is any 
 science which fortifies against it, or furnishes ar- 
 mour to resist its shock. For those transitions 
 from wealth to poverty, which sometimes overtake 
 the wisest, philosophy proposes an antidote. The 
 ancient teachers of heathen wisdom* offered as a 
 substitute for the goods of fortune, moderated de- 
 sires, and pleasures founded in virtue. The 
 Stoics advocated the impracticable theory, that 
 the soul should be unaffected by all the mutations 
 of earth. Some of the philosophers of ancient 
 Greece soared as high as man's wisdom can hope 
 to reach, without the aid of Inspiration. They 
 counselled man to rise in the majesty of his na- 
 ture, above material things. But they took not 
 into account that latent infirmity, by which, when 
 
RELIGION. 35 
 
 " he would do good, evil was present with him." 
 Their system was like the cold moonbeam, fa- 
 ding before the day-star from on high. It was 
 wholly inadequate to sustain, under those severer 
 trials, the loss of friends, and the darkness that 
 enwraps the grave. It lay crushed at the tomb, 
 where the mourner left his fondest affections, or 
 stood appalled and silent, when the dying passed 
 the threshold of Eternity. 
 
 It is reserved for a " better covenant," to lead 
 the desolated heart, not to " sorrow as without 
 hope." With what a burst of despair does Quin- 
 tilian exclaim, after the death of his wife and 
 children : " All that I now possess, is for aliens, 
 and no longer mine. Henceforth, my wealth and 
 my writings, the fruits of a long and painful life, 
 must be reserved only for strangers." 
 
 The bereaved, and eloquent son of the Ameri- 
 can forests, inquires in agony, " Who is there to 
 mourn for Logan ? Not one. There runs not a 
 drop of my blood, in the veins of any living crea- 
 ture." 
 
 The Idumean, when the destroying angel had 
 made " desolate all his company," — acknowledged, 
 " The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away : 
 blessed be the name of the Lord" His grieved 
 heart bemoaned not his heirless wealth, his un- 
 transmitted renown — his desolated home — but 
 turning to the First Unerring Cause, praised the 
 mercy, which, though concealed in the blackness 
 of darkness, was mercy still. It is surely a divine 
 
36 RELIGION. 
 
 alchymy, which presents, like gold from the refi- 
 ner's crucible, the spirit purified by the fires that 
 dissolved it. 
 
 A faith, more perfect than the lore which Greek 
 or Roman taught, is requisite to console the be- 
 reaved parent, who taking in his arms his most 
 cherished idols, bears them, one after the other, 
 through the dark valley of the shado*w of death. 
 " Yesterday, I saw the brittle broken : — to day, I 
 see the mortal dead," said Epictetus to the wo- 
 man, who one evening regretted her broken vase, 
 and the next, wept for her lifeless son. But he 
 was unable to assure her, " Thy dead shall arise 
 again." — " I shall go to him, but he shall not return 
 to me," said the King of Israel, over the form of 
 his lifeless infant. " My children are all dead ; 
 there is not one now, to stand between me and my 
 God," said a Christian-mother of our own times, as 
 she turned in sainted meekness to her lonely duties. 
 
 But if heathen philosophy failed to sooth the 
 mourner, to the dying, she was still more emphat- 
 ically, " a physician of no value." She might 
 supply the pride, or excuse the weakness, with 
 which her votaries rushed upon the dagger's point, 
 when life was joyless. But to which of them 
 could she vouchsafe that sweet and holy confi- 
 dence, with which the departing Hooker exclaim- 
 ed : " By God's grace, I have loved him in my 
 youth, and feared him in my age, and laboured to 
 have a conscience void of offence, towards him and 
 towards all men." 
 
RELIGION. 37 
 
 And now, cherished and lovely beings, just 
 commencing to ascend the hill of life, looking 
 around you, like timid and beautiful strangers, for 
 the greenest paths, or the most approved guides on 
 your devious pilgrimage, if there was a science 
 capable of imparting unbounded happiness, and 
 of continuing that happiness, when age disquali- 
 fies the mind for other researches — a science 
 which surmounts that grave, where all earthly 
 glory lays down its laurel, and fixes a firm grasp 
 on heaven, when earth recedes, how must she be 
 pitied who neglects its acquisition. And there is 
 such a science. And there is peril in disregarding 
 it. Truly impressive were the words of Queen 
 Elizabeth's secretary of state, to the bishops who 
 surrounded his death-bed : " Ah ! how great a 
 pity, that we men should not feel for what end we 
 are born into this world, till we are just on the 
 point of quitting it." 
 
 If there were a book, that astonished both by its 
 wisdom and its antiquity — that delighted alike by 
 history, oratory and poetry — in theory and illus- 
 tration, equally simple and sublime, yielding to 
 the comprehension of the unlearned, yet reveal- 
 ing to the critick, the finger of Deity — a book 
 which the wise have pronounced superior to all 
 beside, and the learned retained for daily study 
 when all others were dismissed — how anxious 
 should we be to obtain it, how impatient to be 
 made acquainted with its contents. And there is 
 such a book. And for want of the knowledge of 
 
 4 
 
38 RELIGION. 
 
 it, how many regions of the earth, are but the 
 " habitations of cruelty." — " More wisdom, com- 
 fort, and pleasure, are to be found in retiring and 
 turning your heart from the world, and reading 
 with the good Spirit of God, his sacred Word, 
 than in all the courts and all the favours of prin- 
 ces," said one, who had enjoyed the pomp and 
 distinction of a court. 
 
 If there were a day, when it was lawful to turn 
 from all labour, vanity and care — to take home to 
 the heart, only those images which make it better 
 — and to associate in spirit not only with the good 
 of all ages, but with cherubim and seraphim around 
 the Throne — should we not hail its approach amid 
 the weariness of life ? And there is such a day. 
 The pious greet it, as a foretaste of heaven's rest. 
 The wise have pronounced its influence propi- 
 tious, even upon their temporal concerns. " I have 
 found," says Sir Matthew Hale, " by strict and 
 diligent observation, that a due observance of the 
 duties of the Sabbath, hath ever brought with it a 
 blessing on the rest of my time, and the week so 
 begun hath been prosperous unto me." 
 
 If there was a friend, whose sympathies never 
 slumbered, whose judgment never erred, whose 
 power had no limit — a friend acquainted with all 
 our wants, and able to supply them — with our 
 secret sorrows, and ready to relieve them — should 
 we not be urgent to seek his presence, and grate- 
 ful to express our desires ? And there is such a 
 friend — such a mode of access ? " Eighty-and- 
 
RELIGION. 39 
 
 six years, have I served him," said the venerable 
 Polycarp, " and he hath never done me aught but 
 good." — " All things forsake me, except my God, 
 my duty, and my prayers," said the noble states- 
 man, whose long life comprehended the reign of 
 five sovereigns of England, and whose career had 
 been dignified by the honours which are coveted 
 among men. 
 
 It would be easy to multiply suffrages in favour 
 of religion, from those who have been illustrious 
 in the paths of science, as well as upon the heights 
 of power. The learned Selden, whose attain- 
 ments were so various and profound, that he was 
 sometimes called the " living dictionary " re- 
 marks, at the close of life : " I have taken pains to 
 know every thing esteemed worth knowing amono 
 men, yet of all my disquisitions and readings, 
 nothing now remains to comfort me, but this pas- 
 sage of St. Paul, ' It is a faithful saying, and 
 worthy of all acceptation, that Jesus Christ came 
 into the world to save sinners.' " — " Our religion " 
 says the clear-minded Pascal, " awing those whom 
 it justifies, and comforting those whom it reproves, 
 so wisely tempereth hope with fear, that it abases 
 us infinitely more than unassisted reason could 
 do, yet without driving us to despair, while it 
 exalts us infinitely more than the pride of our 
 nature could do — yet without rendering us vain." 
 We gather collateral testimony, even from 
 heathen lore. Seneca admonishes us, that 
 " were it not for heavenly contemplations, it had 
 
40 RELIGION. 
 
 not been worth our while to have come into this 
 world." 
 
 We cannot but feel that we are beings of a two- 
 fold nature — that our journey to the tomb is short, 
 and the existence beyond it immortal. Is there 
 any attainment that we may reserve, when we lay 
 down the body? We know, that of the gold 
 which perishes, we may take none with us, when 
 dust returneth to dust. Of the treasures which 
 the mind accumulates, may we carry aught with 
 us, to that bourne, whence no traveller returns ? 
 
 We may have been delighted with the studies 
 of Nature, and penetrated into those caverns, 
 where she perfects her chymistry in secret. Com- 
 posing and decomposing — changing matter into 
 nameless forms — pursuing the subtilest essences 
 through the air, and resolving even that air into 
 its original elements — what will be the gain, when 
 we pass from material to immaterial, and this 
 great museum and laboratory, the time-worn 
 earth, shall dissolve in its own central fires ? 
 
 We may have become adepts in the physiology 
 of man — scanning the mechanism of the eye, till 
 light itself unfolded its invisible laws — of the ear, 
 till its most hidden reticulations confessed their 
 mysterious agency with sound — of the heart, till 
 that citadel of life revealed its hermit-policy : but 
 will these researches be available, in a state of 
 being, which " eye hath not seen, nor ear heard — 
 nor the heart of man conceived ?" 
 
 Will he who fathoms the waters, and computes 
 
RELIGION. 41 
 
 their pressure and power, have need of this skill, 
 " where there is no more sea ?" Will the mathe- 
 matician exercise the lore, by which he measured 
 the heavens — or the astronomer, the science which 
 discovered the stars, when called to go beyond 
 their light ? 
 
 Those who have penetrated most deeply into 
 the intellectual structure of man, lifted the curtain 
 from the birthplace of thought, traced the springs 
 of action to their fountain, and thrown the veiled 
 and shrinking motive into the crucible, perceive 
 the object of their study, taking a new form, en- 
 tering disembodied an unknown state of existence, 
 and receiving powers adapted to its laws, and 
 modes of intercourse. 
 
 We have no proof that the sciences, to which 
 years of labour have been devoted, will survive 
 the tomb. But the impressions they have made — 
 the dispositions they have nurtured — the good or 
 evil, they have helped to stamp upon the soul — will 
 go with it into Eternity. The adoring awe, the 
 deep humility, inspired by the study of the planets 
 and their laws — the love of truth, which he cher- 
 ished, who pursued the science that demonstrates 
 it — will find a response among angels and archan- 
 gels. The praise that was learned amid the mel- 
 odies of nature — or from the lyre of consecrated 
 genius — may pour its perfected tones from a 
 seraph's harp. The goodness taught in the whole 
 frame of Creation — by the flower lifting its honey- 
 cup to the insect, and the leaf drawing its green 
 
 4* • 
 
42 RELIGION. 
 
 curtain round the nursing-chamber of the smallest 
 bird ; by the pure stream, refreshing both the 
 grass and the flocks that feed on it, the tree, and 
 the master of its fruits ; the tender charity caught 
 from the happiness of the humblest creature — will 
 be at home in His presence, who hath pronounced 
 himself the " God of love." 
 
 The studies, therefore, which we pursue, as the 
 means of intellectual delight, or the instruments of 
 acquiring wealth and honour among men, are val- 
 uable at the close of life, only as they have pro- 
 moted those dispositions which constitute the bliss 
 of an unending existence. Tested by its tenden- 
 cies beyond the grave, Religion in its bearings 
 and results, transcends all other sciences. The 
 knowledge which it imparts does not perish with 
 the stroke which disunites the body, from its 
 ethereal companion. While its precepts lead to 
 the highest improvement of this state of proba- 
 tion, its spirit is congenial with that ineffable re- 
 ward to which we aspire. It is the preparation 
 for immortality, which should be daily and hourly 
 wrought out, amid all the mutations of time. 
 
 Viewing it only with reference to the present 
 life, we perceive its requirements to be privileges. 
 The day that it hallows — the volume that it gives 
 as our rule of conduct — the prayerful intercourse 
 with heaven that it enjoins — the deep penitence — 
 the fervent trust in a pure and prompting spirit — 
 the self-denial that it imposes on the wayward and 
 yengeful passions — its monitions of earth's empti- 
 
RELIGION. 43 
 
 ness — its solace under affliction — the chastened 
 meekness of its lessons in prosperity — the tender 
 and forbearing love which from a Redeemer's ex- 
 ample it instils into the heart — tend to renovate, 
 to fortify, to sublimate the weakness of our nature, 
 and to make it " meet for the inheritance of the 
 saints in light." 
 
 Feel it, therefore, my dear young friends, to be 
 your duty to be religious. If you acknowledge 
 the sacred obligation to " obey your parents," do 
 you not owe equal obedience to that Father in 
 heaven, whose command is, " give me thine 
 heart ?" It is of immense importance that reli- 
 gion be secured in youth. Those years which so 
 easily take stamp and colouring from surrounding 
 objects, impress their own likeness upon a series 
 of other years. They may determine the charac- 
 ter through life, and the destinies of Eternity. 
 
 Suffer me therefore, to say to those who are in 
 the fair blossom of their being, that they are un- 
 safe while they neglect the guidance of religion. 
 Seek her, sweet friends, with prayer, amid the 
 hush and holiness of morn, and at eve recall the 
 day's deeds, and measure them by her standard, 
 and weigh its words and thoughts in her equal 
 balance. 
 
 Make that religion, which regulates the heart, 
 a constant companion. It has been an error to 
 suppose it should be reserved for the higher and 
 more trying exigencies of life. Though able to 
 sustain under the greatest extremity, it is equally 
 
44 RELIGION. 
 
 willing to walk in the humblest paths. If it wear 
 a brighter robe on the Sabbath, it is still girded 
 for the service of every day, and ready to take its 
 station by their side, who invoke its aid. It is 
 like a thread of gold, which may be continually 
 woven into the web of life. If its clew be laid 
 aside, except on Sundays, or seasons of prayer, it 
 will be difficult to resume. It may be either so 
 entangled, or broken, or tarnished, that the tissue 
 will be unfit for heaven. 
 
 While you are in the pursuit of piety, do not 
 listen to its teachers, in the spirit of criticism, but 
 reverently and with meekness. Let it not be your 
 aim, to become a sectarian, but a Christian. Avoid 
 every feature of bigotry — every temptation to 
 polemical controversy. Never dispute about doc- 
 trines, or condemn those who may differ from you. 
 Leave the defence of tenets to whose whom 
 Christendom has appointed the champions of her 
 faith. It is more fitting for our sex, to be the gen- 
 tle guardians of the peace and charity of the Gos- 
 pel. Their piety who were last at the cross, and 
 first at the sepulchre, should be to cultivate the 
 meekness of self-denial and the fervour of faith. 
 Receiving the " truth in love," remember that 
 every sect has produced both good and evil — that 
 all build the foundation of their belief on the same 
 book, and place the goal of their hope at the gate 
 of the same heaven. Praying that through differ- 
 ent roads, every true worshipper, may arrive at 
 one glorious inheritance, occupy yourselves less 
 
RELIGION. 45 
 
 in scanning the infirmities of others, than in cor- 
 recting your own. Take home to your heart, the 
 words of the pious King Henry, at the death bed 
 of Cardinal Beaufort : " Forbear to judge, for we 
 are sinners all." Choose not to excel in the 
 knowledge of controverted points — or to convince 
 by pungency of argument — or to bewilder by flu- 
 ency of speech — but simply to persuade through 
 the " beauty of holiness." 
 
 Endeavour that the distinguishing feature of your 
 piety, should be that love which the Redeemer 
 marked when on earth, as the test of discipleship, 
 and in which the primitive Christians wrapped 
 themselves as a garment, when they went from 
 persecution to martyrdom, from " prison unto 
 death." Cultivate this spirit in your deportment 
 and let it beam from your countenance. There is 
 no hazard in such emulation. " The desire of 
 power in excess," says Lord Bacon, " caused angels 
 to fall ; the desire of knowledge in excess, caus- 
 ed man to fall; but in charity, there is no ex- 
 cess — neither man nor angel can be endangered 
 by it." 
 
 Religion need not be disjoined from the innocent 
 pleasures of life. Its province is to heighten hap- 
 piness, as well as to sustain toil, or to sanctify 
 affliction. To confine it to seasons of lonely med- 
 itation, or disrobe it of its angel-smile, is a mo- 
 nastic error. Give it place by the hearth-stone, 
 and in the walk among the flowers, where heart 
 answers to heart. Let it have part in the music 
 
46 RELIGION. 
 
 that cheers the domestick circle, and in the fond 
 intercourse of sisterly and fraternal love. 
 
 And now, if I have urgently or diffusely incited 
 the young to the pursuit of the most excellent, 
 most enduring science, it is because in the book 
 of divine truth, I have seen the pledge of Omnipo- 
 tence, that those who " seek early shall find it ;" 
 because I have believed, that in the docility of 
 their happy season, there was an aptitude for its 
 rudiments which time and change might take 
 away. 
 
LETTER III. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE 
 
 Knowledge is valuable for the pleasure it im- 
 parts, for the permanent wealth it secures, and for 
 its ennobling influence on the mind. Its excellence 
 is more strongly illustrated by contrasting it with 
 ignorance. 
 
 " The ignorant man," says an Arabian writer, " is 
 dead, even while he walketh upon earth : — num- 
 bered with the living, he existeth not." The strong 
 prejudices, and restricted trains of thought, which 
 are common to an unfurnished mind, are obvious 
 to all who come in contact with it. Rude man- 
 ners, and contempt of just laws, distinguish an un- 
 educated community. — " Learning," says Lord Ba- 
 con, " doth make the mind gentle, generous, and 
 pliant to government, while ignorance leaveth it 
 churlish, thwarting, and mutinous ; and the evi- 
 dence of history doth clear this assertion, inasmuch 
 as the most barbarous and unlearned times have 
 been the most subject to tumults, seditions, and. 
 changes." 
 
 The treasures of knowledge have been pro- 
 nounced, by the wise of all ages, infinitely superior 
 to the " gold that perisheth." They display their 
 
48 
 
 KNOWLEDGE . 
 
 superiority by their power of resisting accident, 
 and of adhering to their possessor when all things 
 else forsake him. The winds cannot sweep them 
 away, nor the flames dissolve, nor the floods devour 
 them. — "All that I have is about me" said the 
 poet Simonides, with perfect calmness, when, in 
 the midst of tempest and shipwreck, his com- 
 panions were loading themselves with their most 
 costly effects, ere they plunged into the deep. — 
 Treasures over which the elements can have no 
 power, are surely worth the labour of those who 
 " dwell in houses of clay." 
 
 The error is sometimes committed of estimating 
 knowledge, principally as the instrument of pe- 
 cuniary gain. Those who hold this opinion, de- 
 grade its excellence. They debase its specifick 
 gravity. Such mercenary worshippers are like 
 money-changers in a sacred and magnificent tem- 
 ple. Its presiding deity sanctions neither their 
 traffick or their currency. Knowledge sought 
 with such motives will hardly reveal itself in its 
 depth and grandeur. Ere the imperial purple of 
 Rome was sold for money, its glory had departed. 
 What ennobles the intellect, confers a distinction, 
 which silver and gold can never purchase. The 
 learned Erasmus maintained this theory, when he 
 assigned as a reason for refusing a lucrative office, 
 "I will not be hindered from prosecuting my 
 studies, by all the gold in the world." 
 
 Considering knowledge, therefore, as an inalien- 
 able possession, which scorns to be exchanged for 
 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 49 
 
 "jewels of fine gold," let us trace its effect upon 
 the intellect that acquires it. We perceive that it 
 imparts strength and dignity, that while it en- 
 riches the casket, it enlarges its capacity. It gives 
 ability to weigh, to compare, to decide, and a mind 
 accustomed to such labours, expands and consoli- 
 dates its powers, as a frame inured to healthful ex- 
 ercise becomes vigorous and elastick. In cases of 
 doubt or difficulty, collecting the concentrated 
 experience of past ages, it comes forth to act 
 as a counsellor. To use the words of a most 
 competent judge, " those who are illuminated 
 by learning, do find it whispering ever more in 
 their ears, when other counsellors stand mute and 
 silent." 
 
 This argument peculiarly recommends it to the 
 attention of the young. A time must come when 
 the voice of the parent-guide will be silent in the 
 grave ; when the pupil must pass from under the 
 shelter of tutelage to the toils and responsibilities 
 of life. Then it will often be necessary to decide 
 without advice, and to act without precedent. — 
 Judgment laying aside her leading-strings, must 
 dare the steep and slippery ascent, biding both 
 the buffet and the blast. Then, the stores of a 
 well-balanced, well-furnished mind will be put in 
 requisition, and the mistakes of ignorance and 
 vanity be happily avoided. 
 
 Knowledge opens sources of delightful contem- 
 plation for domestick retirement. This renders it a 
 peculiar protection to the young. In their fond- 
 
 5 
 
50 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 ness for promiscuous society, they are often in 
 danger of forming indiscreet associations, or rash 
 attachments. Knowledge makes home pleasant, 
 and self-communion no solitude. " When I am 
 alone, it talks with me, so that I have no need 
 to go abroad, and solicit amusement from others," 
 said the philosopher Antisthenes. This lineament 
 of knowledge, strongly recommends it to our own 
 sex, my dear young friends. For home is our 
 province — and it is our imperative duty to strive 
 to render it agreeable ; and as we are never more 
 disposed to be amiable, than when we are happy, 
 we shall probably best succeed in imparting feli- 
 city, when we most enjoy it ourselves. 
 
 Knowledge is also desirable to our sex, as an 
 antidote to the narrowness of mind, which grows 
 out of minute details and petty cares. It makes 
 us intelligent companions, by supplying varied 
 and improving subjects of conversation. It cre- 
 ates a class of independent enjoyments. From the 
 structure of society, as well as from physical 
 weakness, we are compelled to rely on the minis- 
 try of many agents. By some of these we may 
 be ill-served, and by others deceived : it is there- 
 fore important to cultivate self-derived and self- 
 sustained satisfactions. For us, whose strongest 
 affections are in the keeping of others, it is well 
 to secure some intellectual solace, ere the props 
 on which those affections rest, chance to warp, to 
 pierce us, or to pass away. And next to the sup- 
 port of that hope which has no rooting in earth, 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 51 
 
 and in close affinity with it, are the consolations 
 of a well-disciplined, contemplative mind ! 
 
 In our age of the world, knowledge seems re- 
 quisite to gain and to preserve respect. Adulation 
 is the food of the young an;} beautiful, but matu- 
 rity requires stronger aliment. Nectar and am- 
 brosia vanish with the brief goddesship of beauty, 
 and she who feels the burdens of life, in their 
 dense and uncompromising reality, will gladly 
 accept a more substantial nourishment. In order 
 to be upheld by the respect of him, whose name 
 she bears, and by that of the household which she 
 is appointed to govern — it is necessary that she 
 should not disgrace them by ignorance. There 
 was a period, when humble industry, and virtuous 
 example, were all that society demanded of woman. 
 That period is past. Education, in conferring 
 new privileges, erected a tribunal, where each 
 recipient is summoned to " give account of her 
 stewardship." The very children of the log-cot- 
 tages throughout our land, obey the injunction of 
 one of its departed politicians, and " make a cru- 
 sade against ignorance." 
 
 More than a century and a half since, when in- 
 tellectual culture was dealt out with a sparing 
 hand, the importance of knowledge to the respect- 
 ability and happiness of our sex, was clearly fore- 
 seen and stated by a female writer. Miss Ann 
 Baynard, a native of our mother-country, asserted 
 that it was " sin to be contented ivith a little 
 hnowledge," Laboriously exemplifying her own 
 
52 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 precept, she acquired the ancient languages, as- 
 tronomy, mathematicks and philosophy. The 
 motives which she assigned for perfecting herself 
 in Greek, was, the pleasure of reading Chrysos- 
 tom, in his native purity. Her Latin composi- 
 tions were applauded for their elegance, by the 
 criticks of the day. She made advances in other 
 sciences, particularly in metaphy sicks. Yet her 
 life comprised only twenty-five years. Though 
 such attainments were in those days far more 
 conspicuous than they would be in our own, 
 there was about her no pride of science. In her 
 deportment, she was simple and meek — benevo- 
 lent to the poor, and of sincere piety. She 
 evinced the natural alliance between profound 
 knowledge and humility. On her death-bed, she 
 requested her clergyman to incite all the youth of 
 his charge, to the pursuit of learning and wisdom, 
 as the means of durable happiness. " Would wo- 
 men," she writes, " but spend half of that time in 
 study and thinking, which they do, in visiting, van- 
 ity and folly, it would induce composure of mind, 
 and lay a basis for wisdom and knowledge, by 
 which they might be far better enabled to serve 
 God, and to help their neighbours." 
 
 A similar testimony was given in still earlier 
 times, by Margaret, the mother of King Henry 
 VIL, who to the possession of learning added 
 its munificent patronage. She was the founder of 
 two colleges, connected with the University of 
 Cambridge — read and wrote with facility in the 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 53 
 
 Latin and French languages — and collected a 
 library, both valuable and extensive for those 
 times. 
 
 But those who have it not in their power to 
 encourage learning by liberal donations, or even 
 to devote any important portion of their lives to 
 study, may still be so convinced of the value of a 
 good education, as to consider no labour too great 
 to obtain it. Though our favoured age furnishes 
 unprecedented opportunities for this result, yet 
 they will be found insufficient, without vigorous 
 effort. All the aids of affluence, and the incite- 
 ments of parental love, will be powerless without 
 persevering study. If the physician pronounces 
 the voluntary co-operation of his patient, essential 
 to the perfect effect of medicine, how much more 
 necessary is mental regimen, to the great object of 
 correct education ? It will be in vain, that books, 
 initiating into the various sciences, have proceed- 
 ed from our most powerful pens — that minds of 
 the highest talent bow to the business of instruc- 
 tion — unless those who acquire knowledge, are 
 willing to incur the labour of profound thought. 
 Elementary principles must be committed by pa- 
 tient repetition, and trains of thought deepened by 
 habits of reflection. It is not in the unbroken 
 surface of sloth, or among the weeds of a roving 
 intellect, that knowledge deigns to deposite those 
 seeds, whose well-ripened fruits are for the winter 
 of life. Severe and tireless application is the cur- 
 rency in the realm of learning. And to pursue 
 
 5* 
 
54 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 the metaphor, memory is the mint, where this 
 coinage receives its impression. 
 
 If we believe with Plato, that " all knowledge 
 is but remembrance," we cannot take too much 
 pains to strengthen the retentive power. Without 
 it, there can be no imperishable mental wealth. 
 If any young person says with sincerity, " I have 
 no memory," she pronounces herself a vassal in 
 the empire of mind. If she makes this avowal 
 carelessly, or without compunction, she deserves 
 to be for ever a " hewer of wood and a drawer of 
 water," among those whom knowledge ennobles. 
 But a weak memory, or what is colloquially called 
 "no memory at all," will yet reveal a principle of 
 vitality, sufficient to justify and repay assiduous 
 nursing-care For if memory has been philoso- 
 phically analyzed into the element of " fixed atten- 
 tion," it would seem to be within the reach of all, 
 who have power over their own perceptions. So 
 it undoubtedly is — but not without perseverance. 
 
 When you read, what it is desirable to retain, 
 dismiss every extraneous thought. If this cannot 
 be done in the company of others, become a silent 
 and separate student. Let your first requisitions 
 on memory be short, but thorough, repeated daily, 
 and as far as possible, at the same period of the 
 day. Every night, review deliberately and clearly 
 what has been gained. At the close of every 
 week, abridge in writing, the subjects that you 
 deem most valuable. At the close of every month, 
 recapitulate, select and arrange, from this record, 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 55 
 
 the most important parts, and write them neatly in 
 a book kept for that purpose — but not in the lan- 
 guage of the author ; and if possible, without ref- 
 erence to him at all. Let this be a repository of 
 condensed knowledge, the pure gold of thought. 
 Select from it, fitting subjects for conversation, and 
 view knowledge in all its aspects, ere you commit 
 it irrevocably to the casket of the soul. 
 
 Such a process cannot be continued faithfully 
 for a year, without perceptible benefit to memory. 
 Command its services freely, as a monarch does 
 those of a loyal subject. Never allow yourself to 
 say, without self-reproach, " I have forgotten." 
 If memory is under your control, why should you 
 forget ? If it is not, whose is the fault ? Even a 
 child is in danger, who says " I forgot," and feels 
 no shame. 
 
 In your earliest discipline of memory, be care- 
 ful not to afford it too many aids. Its journey up 
 the cliff of knowledge may be painful, and its re- 
 quisitions among the duties of life, will be surely 
 severe. Make it athletick by exercise, like the 
 son of a peasant. Bring home the substance of 
 sermons, or lectures on the sciences, without 
 the aid of pencil and paper. If you wish to pre- 
 serve it for others, abridge it after you return 
 home, but never take notes while you listen. It 
 too much excuses memory from its trust. In pe- 
 rusing books, never use marks, to denote the 
 stages of your progress. If the contents are not 
 sufficiently striking to furnish a clew for recalling 
 
56 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 the mind, charge memory with the number of the 
 chapter, or the page where you discontinued to 
 read. If neither the spirit, style, or numerical 
 adjuncts of the book, can be so clearly restored, as 
 to designate the point at which you left it, what 
 benefit do you propose, from proceeding in its pe- 
 rusal ? It is much reading without proper atten- 
 tion — it is miscellaneous aliment without digestion, 
 that paralyze memory, and induce morbid habits 
 of mind. Hold no rule in slight estimation, that 
 will enable you to invigorate the retentive power. 
 Persevere in this regimen, until you are familiar 
 with the intense delight of knowledge won by toil. 
 Then you may be assured that the most formida- 
 ble stage in the discipline of memory is surmount- 
 ed ; for as it regards the action of the mind, know- 
 ledge and remembrance are indivisible. Would 
 that I could convince all my fair, young readers, 
 of the value of perseverance. Its importance to 
 our own sex, has seldom been more strikingly 
 exemplified than in the instance of Miss Elizabeth 
 Carter. She early formed a resolution of acquir- 
 ing a learned education. To overcome existing 
 obstacles, she was scarcely outdone by Demos- 
 thenes, in untiring effort. Nature opposed her 
 design. Her infancy and early youth, gave no in- 
 dication of the eminence that she afterward obtain- 
 ed. Her perceptions were unusually slow. The 
 rudiments of science were acquired with incredi- 
 ble labour. She had a continual tendency to fall 
 asleep, whenever she attempted mental applica- 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 57 
 
 tion. The obtuseness of comprehension with 
 which she encountered the impediments that op- 
 pose entrance into the dead languages, exhausted 
 the patience of even her excellent father. He 
 besought her to give up all ambition of becoming 
 a scholar. But nothing could shake her perseve- 
 rance. And its victory was complete. What she 
 once gained, she never lost. The severe labour 
 to which she submitted, earned this recompense, 
 which quickness of perception seldom attains. 
 
 She early acquired the Hebrew, Greek, and 
 Latin languages. The first, she continued to read 
 daily, even in extreme old age. Of the second, 
 her knowledge was critically correct, as her trans- 
 lation of Epictetus proves. Dr. Johnson, in speak- 
 ing of a celebrated scholar, said, he understood 
 Greek better than any one whom he had ever 
 known, except Elizabeth Carter. The French lan- 
 guage, she understood thoroughly, and spoke with 
 fluency. Italian, Spanish, and German, she 
 taught herself without assistance. From the last, 
 she received very high enjoyment. Portuguese 
 and Arabick, she also added. For her own use, 
 she constructed an Arabick dictionary, containing 
 various explanations, and combinations of words, 
 which she perceived, from her own reading, to have 
 been misconceived, or ill-translated. To her un- 
 common proficiency in classick and historick lore, 
 she united a knowledge of astronomy and ancient 
 geography, poetry and theology. The Holy 
 Scriptures were her daily and delightful study. 
 
58 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Though her attainments were viewed with 
 wonder, and gained her the friendship of some of 
 the best and most talented in her native realm, she 
 sought not to possess learning for the purposes of 
 display. Her long life of meekness and piety, 
 spoke a far different language. 
 
 No stronger example can be adduced of the 
 force and value of perseverance. Those of our 
 own sex, whose taste would not lead them to the 
 acquisition of difficult languages, or to a life of 
 science and contemplation, will find this excellent 
 virtue equally prevalent, in any other modification 
 of duty, or channel of pursuit. 
 
 Want of fixedness of purpose, is but too gener- 
 ally a fault of the young. Indeed, to so many 
 employments, are the minds of young ladies di- 
 rected, that it is exceedingly difficult to preserve 
 unity of design. But of one thing, they should 
 never lose sight ; the danger of neglecting to im- 
 prove to the utmost, the priceless privileges of 
 their season of life. Then, the mind comes forth 
 in freshness and beauty. Cares have not pre-oc- 
 cupied it — nor contradictory trains of thought 
 stamped upon it a desultory character. " It turn- 
 eth as wax to the seal." How often, ere we un- 
 derstand the worth of this pliancy, does rigidity 
 steal over the fibres of thought, and the buddings 
 of character take a determinate form, and we are 
 young no more. 
 
 It was Cato the censor, who having imperfectly 
 estimated this precious season, awoke to a late 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 59 
 
 repentance, and at the age of sixty desired again 
 to become a scholar, and to study Greek. The 
 habit sometimes formed by young persons, of ex- 
 cusing their deficiencies on the plea of want of 
 time, is detrimental to improvement. Time ought 
 to be found for every important requisition. The 
 same management that secures it for amusement, 
 will secure it for study. When any effort involv- 
 ing labour is proposed, few will allege want of 
 inclination, but many will shelter themselves under 
 the broad banner of want of time. " I had no 
 ti?ne," may be considered as the knell of excel- 
 lence. The great and the good, find time for all 
 that appertains to greatness or goodness. " I will 
 hear thee at a more convenient season," said the 
 Roman, to the warning Apostle, when at his pun- 
 gent arguments, conscience trembled. The In- 
 spired Volume does not inform us, whether that 
 convenient season ever came. What the "con- 
 venient season" was, to the lost soul, is the " no 
 time" to the negligent student. It is a barrier 
 thrown up, to keep others from the truth, and her- 
 self from wisdom. It is the dialect which indo- 
 lence borrows, when she is ashamed of her own. 
 
 As our highest privileges are not exempt from 
 abuse, the very redundancy of benefits which the 
 present age lavishes upon our sex, involves danger. 
 The change has been sudden. The flood of light 
 burst upon the eye, ere it had been gradually led 
 from surrounding darkness. Our grandmothers 
 had only the simple training which suffices for 
 
60 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 "household-good." Our grand-daughters may 
 have an opportunity of becoming professors. 
 When we have learned to meet deliberately this 
 influx of intellectual prosperity — and each fluctu- 
 ating element has subsided to its' true level, it will 
 be found that sufficient time is not allowed to com- 
 plete the process. Why should not the period be 
 equal to that allotted to the other sex ? Is it not 
 important that a broad foundation be laid by those 
 from whom so much is expected ? and who have 
 the character of sowing the seeds of most of the 
 good and evil which exist in the world ? To a 
 young lady, whose regular period of study ter- 
 minates with the first fifteen or sixteen years of 
 life, there " remaineth still, very much land to be 
 possessed." Yet how is she to become its pos- 
 sessor, when the novelties of fashionable amuse- 
 ment, and the cares of woman's lot, stand in array 
 against her more formidably than the " Amorites, 
 and the Hivites, and the Perizzites," whom the 
 children of Israel attacked, but were never able 
 wholly to subdue. 
 
 The system pursued in our mother-country is 
 more rational. The space allotted to education is 
 longer, and not interrupted by promiscuous visit- 
 ing, or exciting amusement. It is both reckless 
 and cruel, for those who guide the young, to ex- 
 pose them to the fascinations of gay society, during 
 the years allotted to scholastick study. A period 
 originally too brief for the great work which is to 
 be achieved, is thus rendered still more insufficient. 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 61 
 
 The imagination is occupied by extraneous ima- 
 gery, and the mind exposed to gilded and profitless 
 reveries, when it should be girded up for faithful 
 and patient labour. 
 
 The social, principle, which, throughout life, de- 
 serves and rewards culture, cannot so safely ex- 
 pand, during the season of school-education, as in 
 the company of those engaged in similar pursuits, 
 or of those still older and wiser friends, who know 
 how to blend instruction with delight. Unless 
 that narrow span which is set apart by the com- 
 munity as sacred to education, be zealously guard- 
 ed for the young by those who love them, how can 
 they escape an irretrievable loss ? They may in 
 deed acquire the reputation of knowledge without 
 possessing it. But are they willing to shelter 
 themselves under false devices, to incur the per- 
 petual labour of wearing a mask, and the hazard 
 of detection ? Ignorance is always obvious to the 
 eye of a true scholar, however it may entrench 
 itself in cunning devices. The invention of eking 
 out the lion's skin with the fox's, though an an- 
 cient and classical artifice, is not wise. Least of 
 all, is it fitting in woman, whose sweetest graces 
 are simplicity and purity. Let the young be as- 
 sured, that for whatever toil or privation they sus- 
 tain, knowledge hath a surpassing payment of pres- 
 ent pleasure and of future gain. When like her, 
 who some three centuries since, preferred at the 
 age of sixteen, solitude and Plato, to the haunts of 
 fashionable gayety — they taste the true sweetness 
 
 6 
 
62 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 of knowledge — they will pronounce the period ap- 
 propriated to its attainment, as the most privileged 
 part of their existence. 
 
 The sentiment that education is complete, when 
 school-days are past, is too plainly erroneous to 
 require argument. Their office has been well per- 
 formed, if they have so trained the mind, as to en- 
 able it to continue its own education ; if they have 
 given it the wisdom to consider itself a learner, 
 throughout the whole of this earthly probation. 
 Still viewing itself but as a searcher after know- 
 ledge and truth, it should bear about with it, and 
 daily deepen the motto of " not having yet attain- 
 ed — neither being already perfect." It was one 
 of the greatest philosophers, who asserted that the 
 mind ought ever to consider itself " susceptible 
 both of growth and reformation ; and that the tru- 
 ly learned man, will always intermix the correc- 
 tion and amendment of his intellect, with the use 
 and employment thereof." It is most surely ap- 
 propriate for our sex, to disclaim all fellowship 
 with pride and prejudice, and humbly to seek after 
 wisdom, all the days of their lives. 
 
 To you, who, just emancipated from the re- 
 straints of " tutors and governors," stand joyously 
 in your youth and beauty, upon that " isthmus of 
 a middle state," which divides the sports of child- 
 hood from the responsibilities of womanly duty, 
 suffer me to say, from the love I bear you, that 
 your education is but just begun. Every thing 
 around you will conspire to carry on the work. 
 
KNOWLEDGE. 63 
 
 Associates, friends, those to -whom you intrust 
 your affections, are instruments to test the basis 
 of your principles, and complete the development 
 of your character. The books you read, the com- 
 panions with whom you converse, the dispositions 
 that you cherish, may prove as soft showers to the 
 springing grass — or as mildews to the buds of 
 virtue. 
 
 Those whom you teach, will teach you — those 
 who serve you, will influence you in their turn. 
 The reaction is perpetual. 
 
 The opinions and I abits of those with whom 
 you are most conversant, will insensibly, but in- 
 delibly stamp some impression upon your own. 
 They will enter into the sanctuary of the soul — 
 and hang up in its secret shrine, their own images. 
 
 Be ever docile, my dear friends, to the hallow- 
 ed teachings of knowledge and virtue, and see that 
 the influences which proceed from yourselves, are 
 of the same sacred class. For circumstances, re- 
 latives, the silent lapse of time, and the sleepless 
 discipline of your heavenly Father, will continue 
 your education until death takes light from the 
 eye, and motion from the hand, and vitality from 
 the heart, and releasing the organs from their obe- 
 dience to the ruling mind, lays the head where 
 there is neither knowledge — nor device — nor 
 wisdom. 
 
LETTER IV. 
 
 INDUSTRY. 
 
 The faithful use of our intrusted powers, is but 
 a just return for the privilege of possessing them. 
 Capacities for improvement, and opportunities of 
 usefulness, involve accountability, and demand dil- 
 igence. As duty is connected with enjoyment, 
 Industry is the visible friend of happiness and vir- 
 tue. It adapts the gifts of the Creator, to the ends 
 which he designed. We are excited to it, by the 
 examples and analogies of nature. 
 
 The little rill hastens onward to the broader 
 stream, cheering the flowers on its margin, and 
 singing to the pebbles in their bed. The river 
 rushes to the sea, dispensing on a broader scale, 
 fertility and beauty. Ocean, receiving his thou- 
 sand tribute-streams, and swelling his ceaseless 
 thunder-hymn, bears to their desired haven, those 
 white-winged messengers which promote the com- 
 fort and wealth of man, and act as envoys between 
 remotest climes. In the secret bosom of the earth, 
 the little heart of the committed seed quickens, 
 circulation commences, the slender radicles ex- 
 pand, the newborn plant lifts a timid eye to the 
 sunbeam — the blossoms diffuse odour — the grain 
 
INDUSTRY. 65 
 
 whitens for the reaper — the tree perfects its fruit. 
 Nature is never idle. 
 
 Lessons of industry, come also from insect- 
 teachers, from the winged chymist in the bell of 
 the hyacinth, and the political economist bearing 
 the kernel of corn, to its subterranean magazine. 
 The blind pinna? spins in the ocean, and the silk- 
 worm in its leaf-carpeted chamber, and the spider, 
 " taking hold with its hands, is in king's palaces." 
 The bird gathers food for itself, and for its helpless 
 claimants with songs of love, or spreading a mi- 
 gratory wing, hangs its slight architecture on the 
 palm-branch of Africa, the wind-swept and scanty 
 foliage of the orcades, or the slender, sky-piercing 
 minaret of the Moslem. The domestick animals 
 fill their different spheres, according to the grades 
 of intelligence allotted them. Man, whose en- 
 dowments are so noble, ought not surely to 
 be surpassed in faithfulness, by the inferior cre- 
 ation. 
 
 It is evident disrespect to our bountiful Bene- 
 factor, to divide his gifts from their appointed use 
 and benefit. When we contemplate the wonder- 
 ful mechanism of the hand, and the far more as- 
 tonishing skill of the mind that guides it, when we 
 reflect how much labour is required to make our- 
 selves what we wish to be, and to do for others 
 what we ought — when we look beyond this life to 
 the next, and feel that not only on what we do 
 here, but on what we omit to do, depend conse- 
 quences which Eternity alone can measure, we 
 
 6* 
 
66 INDUSTRY. 
 
 are convinced of the truth of the precept, that in- 
 dolence is not made for man. 
 
 Admitting, therefore, the propriety and neces- 
 sity of industry, let us exhibit the principle in its 
 practical forms. It should be mingled in its most 
 decided aspects, with the period of school-educa- 
 tion. That season, when those elements of know- 
 ledge are acquired, which in some form or other 
 continue to blend with the mass of character and 
 duty, during the whole of life, is too precious to 
 be trifled away. She who is careless in forming 
 habits of application, or w r illing to curtail hours of 
 study, fearfully defrauds herself. " If you have 
 great talents," said Sir Joshua Reynolds, " indus- 
 try will improve them — if you have moderate 
 abilities, industry will supply their deficiency. 
 Nothing is denied to well-directed labour — nothing 
 is to be obtained without it." 
 
 A young lady, during the course of her instruc- 
 tion in the sciences, came to the conclusion that 
 she had no memory for historical dates, or facts 
 involving numerical statements. In her recitations 
 she resorted to the subterfuge of referring to slips 
 of paper, which she adroitly concealed. When it 
 became difficult to escape detection, she wrote 
 such chronological eras as occurred in her lessons, 
 in the palm of her hand. Half the labour which 
 this deception involved, would have enabled her to 
 commit them to memory, thoroughly and irrevo- 
 cably. The consequence was, that after the com- 
 pletion of an extensive course of study, she was 
 
INDUSTRY. 67 
 
 utterly destitute of that chronology which is to his- 
 tory what the key-stone is to the arch. The mass 
 which she had accumulated, having neither ar- 
 rangement, or relative dependance, relapsed into 
 chaos. Fragment after fragment disappeared, un- 
 til the whole vanished away. Indolence had de- 
 prived it of those strong tendrils, by which it would 
 have adhered to the mind. Of the history of the 
 world, from its creation to her own times, to which 
 she had devoted years of study, she might soon 
 have been able to say with Shakspeare : — 
 
 " I remember a dream, but nothing distinctly, 
 A quarrel, but nothing wherefore." 
 
 And the loss was through her own folly. Let 
 those who now sustain the interesting character of 
 scholar, see that they suffer no similar misfortune, 
 from any modification of indolence. Were it pos- 
 sible fully to impress the value of that period of 
 existence, ere it passes, never to return, how many 
 who are now impatient of its restraints, would de- 
 sire to prolong its duration. Could they realize 
 that when life has drawn them within its sphere 
 of labour — though books are always to be found, 
 there may be no leisure to read them — or they 
 may be perused without leaving a single abiding 
 impression on a mind harassed by perplexity and 
 care — they would be anxious that every day of 
 their school-education, should deposite in the store- 
 house of intellect, some treasure that might be safe 
 from the water-floods of time. 
 
68 
 
 INDUSTRY. 
 
 Habits of diligence are recommended by the 
 happiness they impart. Indolence is a foe to en- 
 joyment. " There is nothing among all the cares 
 and burdens of a king," said Lewis XIV., to the 
 prince his son, " so laborious as idleness" It is 
 a dereliction of duty. It is disobedience to the 
 command of our Creator. While in bondage to it, 
 we cannot enjoy self-approbation. Rust gathers 
 over the mind, and corrodes its powers. Melan- 
 choly weighs down the spirits, and the conscious- 
 ness of having lived in vain, imbitters reflection. 
 Whatever establishes a habit of regular industry, 
 in early life, is a blessing. Even those reverses 
 of fortune, which are accounted calamities, some- 
 times call into action energies, with which the 
 possessor was previously unacquainted, and lead 
 to higher degrees of respectability and happiness, 
 than affluence, in its lassitude or luxury, could ever 
 have attained. 
 
 Early rising seems generally to have been as- 
 sociated with the industry of those who have at- 
 tained eminence. " I am sorry," said Demos- 
 thenes, " when I hear any workman at his ham- 
 mer before me." The elder Pliny assigned as 
 one of the reasons w r hy he accomplished so much, 
 that he was an early-riser. He was accustomed 
 to go before daybreak, to receive the orders of 
 the emperor Vespasian, who himself did not 
 waste the precious morning hours in slumber. 
 BufTon, the celebrated naturalist, rose throughout 
 the year, with the sun. In order to do this, he had 
 
INDUSTRY. 69 
 
 to conquer an almost inveterate disposition for 
 morning sleep. He acknowledged himself in- 
 debted for this victory to his servant, who reso- 
 lutely awakened him, until a better habit was 
 formed — and said that to his perseverance, the 
 world was also indebted for at least ten or twelve 
 volumes of his Natural History. The Rev. Mr. 
 John Wesley, was a most conspicuous instance of 
 unvarying industry, and economy of time. On his 
 eighty-fifth birthday, he records in his journal, as 
 among the causes of his continued health, and un- 
 impaired vigour, that he had " constantly for sixty 
 years, risen at four in the morning ; and preached 
 a regular lecture at five in the morning, for above 
 half a century." 
 
 Those of our sex, who have been distinguished 
 by energy in the domestick department, are usually 
 exemplary for their improvement of the early 
 hours of the day. A knowledge of those pursuits 
 which promote the comfort and order of a house- 
 hold, should be interwoven with classical educa- 
 tion. It may be so mingled, as to relieve, rather 
 than obstruct, intellectual labours. 
 
 I have never heard any young lady, deny in 
 words, the excellence of industry, and have known 
 many, who put forth vigorous efforts for the im- 
 provement of their most precious season of life. 
 But I have seen no class of people, among whom 
 a more efficient system of industry and economy 
 of time was established, than the agricultural pop- 
 ulation of New England. Their possessions are 
 
70 INDUSTRY. 
 
 not sufficiently large to ajlow waste of any descrip- 
 tion. Hence, every article seems to be carefully 
 estimated, and applied to its best use. Their 
 mode of life, is as favourable to cheerfulness and 
 health, as it is eminent in industry. 
 
 The farmer, rising with the dawn, attends to 
 those employments which are necessary for the 
 comfort of the family, and proceeds early with his 
 sons or assistants, to their department of daily la- 
 bour. The birds enliven them with their song, 
 and the lambs gambol, while the patient ox marks 
 the deep furrow, or the grain is committed to the 
 earth, or the tall grass humbled beneath the 
 scythe, or the stately corn freed from the intrusion 
 of weeds. Fitting tasks are proportioned to the 
 youngest ones, that no hand may be idle. 
 
 In the interior of the house, an equal diligence 
 prevails. The elder daughters take willing part 
 with the mother, in every domestick toil. No ser- 
 vant is there, to create suspicious feelings, or a 
 divided interest. No key grates in the lock, for 
 all are as brethren. The children, who are too 
 small to be useful, proceed to school, kindly lead- 
 ing the little one, who can scarcely walk. Per- 
 haps the aged grandmother, a welcome and hon- 
 oured inmate, amuses the ruddy infant, that she 
 may release a stronger hand for toil. 
 
 The sound of the wheel, and the vigorous 
 strokes of the loom, are heard. The fleece of the 
 sheep is wrought up, amid the cheerful song of 
 sisters. Remembering that the fabricks which 
 
INDUSTRY. 71 
 
 they produce, will guard those whom they love, 
 from the blast of winter, the bloom deepens on 
 their cheek with the pleasing consciousness of use- 
 ful industry. 
 
 In the simple and abundant supply of a table, 
 from their own resources, which shall refresh 
 those who return weary from the field, all are in- 
 terested. The boy, who brings his mother the 
 fresh vegetables, selects a salad which his own 
 hand had cultivated, with some portion of the pride 
 with which Diocletian pointed to the cabbages 
 which he had reared. The daughter, who gathers 
 treasures from the nests of the poultry that she 
 feeds, delights to tell their history, and to number 
 her young ducks as they swim forth boldly on 
 the pond. The bees, whose hives range near 
 the door, add a desert to their repast, and the 
 cows feeding quietly in rich pastures, yield pure 
 nutriment for the little ones. For their bread, 
 they have " sown, and reaped, and gathered into 
 barns ;" the flesh is from their own flocks — the 
 fruit and nuts from their own trees. The children 
 know where the first berries ripen, and when the 
 chestnut will open its thorny sheath in the forest. 
 The happy farmer at his independent table, need 
 not envy the luxury of kings. 
 
 The active matron strives to lessen the expen- 
 ses of her husband, and to increase his gains. 
 She sends to market, the wealth of her dairy, and 
 the surplus produce of her loom. She instructs 
 her daughters by their diligence to have a purse 
 
72 INDUSTRY. 
 
 of their own, from which to furnish the more deli- 
 cate parts of their wardrobe, and to relieve the 
 poor. In the long evenings of winter, she plies 
 the needle, or knits stockings with them, or main- 
 tains the quiet musick of the flax-wheel, from 
 whence linen is prepared for the family. She in- 
 cites them never to eat the bread of idleness, and 
 as they have been trained, so will they train others 
 again ; for the seeds of industry are perennial. 
 
 The father and brothers, having recess from the 
 toils of busier seasons, read aloud, such books as 
 are procured from the public library, and know- 
 ledge thus entering in with industry, and domestick 
 order, forms a hallowed alliance. The most shel- 
 tered corner by the ample fireside, is reserved for 
 the hoary grandparents, who in plenty and pious 
 content pass the eve of a well-spent life. 
 
 The sacred hymn and prayer, rising duly from 
 such households, is acceptable to Heaven. To 
 their humble scenery — some of our wisest and 
 most illustrious men, rulers of the people, sages 
 and interpreters of the law of God — look back 
 tenderly, as their birthplace. They love to ac- 
 knowledge that in the industry and discipline of 
 early years, was laid the foundation of their great- 
 ness. 
 
 Let the children of farmers feel that their de- 
 scent is from the nobility of our land. In the 
 homes where they were nurtured, are the strong- 
 holds of the virtue and independence of their coun- 
 try. If our teeming manufactories should send 
 
INDUSTRY. 73 
 
 forth an enervated or uninstructed race — and our 
 cities foster the growth of pomp, or the elements 
 of discord — we hope that from those peaceful 
 farm-houses, will go forth a redeeming spirit, to 
 guard and renovate the country of their love. 
 
 I trust that no young lady, however elevated her 
 station, will conceive that a knowledge of what 
 appertains to the superintendance of a family, can 
 derogate from her dignity. 
 
 If the greater advantages which are accorded 
 her, create contempt for the duties of her own wo- 
 manly sphere, it is a serious and unhappy result. 
 If that sex, through whose liberality greater privi- 
 leges have been extended to ours, are to be ren- 
 dered less comfortable in their homes, at their ta- 
 bles, or by their firesides, it is truly a most un- 
 grateful return. 
 
 Many causes conspire to attach great impor- 
 tance to the stand, which is to be taken, by the 
 young ladies of the present generation. Criticism 
 is awake to discover what effect their more liberal 
 education will have on the welfare of domestick 
 life. Before them, were a race of accomplished 
 housekeepers, perfect in their ranks, whose fami- 
 lies were as regular as clockwork, and whose 
 children early learned the lesson to obey. Not to 
 disgrace such an ancestry, will require no slight 
 energy, or brief apprenticeship. 
 
 But they, on whom the present race of young 
 men must depend, for whatever degree of comfort, 
 their future homes may yield — have had in the 
 
 7 
 
74 INDUSTRY. 
 
 forming period of life, their attention turned to 
 sciences, which to the ears of their excellent grand- 
 mothers, would have been as strange languages. 
 It is sometimes exemplified, that the best house- 
 keepers are not the best teachers of housekeeping. 
 They find it easier to pursue their own established 
 system, than to have patience with the errors of a 
 novice. Hence their daughters are released from 
 participation in domestick care during that pliant 
 period when it might easily have been made con- 
 genial — perhaps, until they have imbibed a distaste 
 for it. 
 
 Another circumstance, which renders the pres- 
 ent crisis still more hazardous, to those on whom 
 are soon to devolve the burdens of domestick re- 
 sponsibility, is the difficulty of obtaining trusty 
 servants. That this evil increases, is evident to 
 all, whose memories comprise the routine of the 
 last thirty, or even ten years. Yet the exertions 
 necessary to support the structure of refined soci- 
 ety, have not diminished. Perhaps proof might be 
 adduced, that they are both heightened and varied 
 by the progress of luxury. If, therefore, the 
 amount of labour in families is increased, and the 
 number of efficient agents diminished, and the 
 knowledge of the superintendant impaired, or ta- 
 ken away — from what quarter can the deficiency be 
 supplied ? How is the head of the household to 
 be made comfortable, when he returns from those 
 toils by which that household is maintained ? 
 
 These are serious questions, not only in their 
 
INDUSTRY. 75 
 
 individual, but political consequences. For the 
 strength of a nation, especially of a republican na- 
 tion, is in the intelligent and well-ordered homes of 
 the people. And in proportion as the discipline of 
 families is relaxed, will the happy organization of 
 communities be affected, and national character 
 become vagrant, turbulent, or ripe for revolution. 
 
 The influx of foreign population renders it 
 doubly important, that some features of our native 
 character and customs, should be preserved for 
 our descendants. And where can these be guard- 
 ed or transmitted, so well as in the sanctity of a 
 well-ordered home ? The habit of breaking up 
 family-establishments, and resorting to boarding- 
 houses, is becoming prevalent in our larger cities. 
 Should it be still more general among those whom 
 wealth and fashion authorize to give tone to soci- 
 ety, the consequences must be baneful. The 
 character of the next generation must be affected 
 by it. A less concentrated influence will be 
 brought to bear upon the unformed mind. Chil- 
 dren, losing the example of that class of parental 
 virtues which the organization of a family requires, 
 can no longer see their mother diffusing a gener- 
 ous hospitality, or drawing under her shelter, the 
 homeless and the orphan. The father, no longer, 
 by the wise ordering of his domesticks, and by a 
 judicious distribution of checks and encourage- 
 ments to all, will teach his sons how to legislate 
 for the good of others. The efficiency of the 
 mother must be less called into exercise, and how 
 
76 INDUSTRY. 
 
 can she instruct her daughters in domestick indus- 
 try, which she has herself no opportunity to prac- 
 tise ? The dignity of the man also suffers by this 
 arrangement, and much of the comfort which he 
 proposes from domestick life, must be resigned. 
 Should this disruption of families become widely 
 prevalent, the desultory character of a homeless 
 people would fasten upon us, and the charities that 
 cluster around the hearth-stone, and the domestick 
 altar — which bless the guest, and cheer the babe in 
 its cradle — must wither like uprooted flowers. 
 
 I trust, my dear young friends, that you will 
 give these subjects an attentive consideration, and 
 that you will be willing to blend with the pursuits of 
 an accomplished education, a practical knowledge 
 of that science, without which woman must be inert 
 in her own sphere, and faithless to some of her 
 most sacred obligations. IndeBted as you are for 
 innumerable privileges to the free government un- 
 der which you live, you will not surely disregard 
 such forms of patriotism, as fall within your prov- 
 ince. Acquaint yourselves, therefore, with all the 
 details of a well-ordered family, and make this de- 
 partment of knowledge, both a duty and a pleasure. 
 For beset as our country may be, with external 
 dangers, or disordered by internal commotions — if 
 from every dwelling there flows forth a healthful 
 and healing influence, what disease can be fatal ? 
 
 The young ladies of the present generation seem 
 to pass in review before me, with all their privi- 
 leges, and in all their grace and beauty. Methinks 
 
INDUSTRY. 77 
 
 their hands are upon the ark of their country. Let 
 them not feel that they have only to seek embel- 
 lishment, to sip from the honey-cups of life, or to 
 glitter like the meteor of a summer's eve. For as 
 surely as the safety and prosperity of a nation de- 
 pend on the virtue of its people, they, who reign in 
 the retreats where man turns for his comfort, who 
 have power over the machinery which stamps on 
 the infant mind its character of good or evil, are 
 responsible, to a fearful extent, for that safety and 
 prosperity. 
 
LETTER V. 
 
 DOMESTICK EMPLOYMENTS. 
 
 Since Industry is the aliment of contentment 
 and happiness, our sex are privileged in the vari- 
 ety of employments that solicit their attention. 
 These are so diversified in their combinations of 
 amusement with utility, that no room need be left 
 for the melancholy of a vacant and listless mind. 
 
 Needle-work, in all its forms of use, elegance 
 and ornament, has ever been the appropriate occu- 
 pation of woman. From the shades of Eden, 
 when its humble process was but to unite the fig- 
 leaf, to the days when the mother of Sisera looked 
 from her window, in expectation of a " prey of 
 divers colours of needle-work on both sides, meet 
 for the necks of those that take the spoil," down 
 to modern times, when Nature's pencil is rivalled 
 by the most exquisite tissues of embroidery, it has 
 been both their duty and their resource. While 
 the more delicate efforts of the needle rank high 
 among accomplishments, its necessary depart- 
 ments are not beneath the notice of the most re- 
 fined young lady. To keep her own wardrobe 
 perfectly in order, to pay just regard to economy, 
 
 and to add to the comfort of the poor, it will be 
 78 
 
DOMESTICK EMPLOYMENTS. 79 
 
 necessary to obtain a knowledge of those inven- 
 tions, by which the various articles of apparel are 
 repaired, modified and renovated. True satisfac 
 tion, and cheerfulness of spirits, are connected 
 with these quiet and congenial pursuits. This has 
 been simply and fortunately expressed, by one of 
 our sweetest poets :— 
 
 " It rains — What lady loves a rainy day 1 
 She loves a rainy day, who sweeps the hearth, 
 And threads the busy needle, or applies 
 The scissors to the torn or #iread-bare sleeve ; 
 Who blesses God that she has friends and home ; 
 Who, in the pelting of the storm, will think 
 Of some poor neighbour that she can befriend ; 
 Who trims the lamp at night, and reads aloud, 
 To a young brother, tales he loves to hear : 
 Such are not sad even on a rainy day. 
 
 The queen of Louis XL, of France, was a 
 pattern of industry to her sex. Surrounding her- 
 self with the daughters of the nobility, whom she 
 called her daughters, she was both their teacher 
 and companion, in elegant works of embroidery 
 and tapestry. The churches were adorned with 
 these proofs of their diligence and ingenuity. She 
 considered industry a remedy for a disordered im- 
 agination, and a shield against the temptations of 
 a fashionable life. Hence prudence and modesty 
 marked the manners of that court, where their op- 
 posites had once prevailed, and the blooming and 
 elegant train by whom she was attended, " bore 
 in their hearts, the honour and virtue which she 
 planted there." 
 
80 DOMEBTICK 
 
 Knitting is a quiet employment, favourable to 
 reflection, and though somewhat obsolete, not un- 
 allied to economy. It furnishes a ready vehicle 
 of charity to the poor, and most appropriate du- 
 ring the severity of winter. The timely gift of a 
 pair of coarse stockings has often relieved the suf- 
 ferings, and protected the health of many an ill- 
 clad and shivering child. It seems to be well 
 adapted to save those little fragments of time, 
 which might else be lost. Mrs. Hannah More, 
 whose example impaVts dignity, and even sacred- 
 ness to common things, was partial throughout her 
 whole life to this simple employment. One of 
 her most interesting and playful letters, accom- 
 panied a sample of this kind of industry, as a pres- 
 ent to the child of a friend — and stockings of her 
 knitting entered into her charities, and were even 
 sold to aid missionary efforts in foreign climes. 
 
 Since the domestick sphere is intrusted to our 
 sex, and the proper arrangement and government 
 of a household are so closely connected with our 
 enjoyments and virtues, nothing that involves the 
 rational comfort of home is unworthy of attention. 
 The science of housekeeping affords exercise for 
 the judgment and energy, ready recollection, and 
 patient self-possession, that are the characteristicks 
 of a superior mind. Its elements should be ac- 
 quired in early life ; at least, its correspondent tastes 
 and habits should never be overlooked in female 
 education. The generous pleasure of relieving a 
 mother or friend from the pressure of care, will 
 
EMPLOYMENTS. 81 
 
 sometimes induce young ladies to acquaint them- 
 selves with employments which enable them, when 
 the more complex duties of life devolve upon them, 
 to enjoy and impart the delights of a well-ordered 
 home. To know how to prepare for, and preside 
 at a table which shall unite neatness with comfort 
 and elegance ; where prodigality is never admit- 
 ted, nor health carelessly impaired, is both an ac- 
 complishment and a virtue. 
 
 That skill in domestick employments is not in- 
 compatible with mental cultivation, there are many 
 examples. To adduce only one, from our own 
 country, Mrs. Child, one of the most indefatigable 
 labourers in the varied field of literature, is not only 
 the author of the " Frugal Housewife," but able 
 practically to illustrate it, with singular energy 
 and versatility. She says, " a knowledge of do- 
 mestick duties is beyond all price to a woman. 
 Every one of our sex ought to know how to sew, 
 and knit, and mend, and cook, and superintend a 
 household. In every situation of life, high or low, 
 this sort of knowledge is of great advantage. 
 There is no necessity that the gaining of such in- 
 formation should interfere with intellectual acquire- 
 ment, or even with elegant accomplishment. A 
 well-regulated mind can find time to attend to all. 
 When a girl is nine or ten years old, she should 
 be accustomed to take some regular share in house- 
 hold duties, and to feel responsible for the manner 
 in which her part is performed — such as her own 
 mending, washing the cups and putting them in 
 
82 DOMESTICK 
 
 place, cleaning silver, or dusting and arranging the 
 parlour. This should not be done occasionally, and 
 neglected whenever she finds it convenient — she 
 should consider it her department. When older 
 than twelve, girls should begin to take turns in 
 superintending the household — keeping account of 
 weekly expenses — making puddings, pies, cake, 
 &c. To learn effectually — they should actually 
 do these things themselves, not stand by, and see 
 others do them." 
 
 Miss Elizabeth Carter, to whom allusion has 
 been already made, as an adept in nine languages, 
 and many sciences, did not neglect those employ- 
 ments which fall within the immediate province of 
 her sex. In needlework, she early accomplished 
 herself, and till near the close of her long life of 
 eighty-nine years, continued its practice. During 
 her youth, while passing a winter in London, a 
 number of shirts which were needed for her brother, 
 were sent to her, which she completed with dili- 
 gence and pleasure, during the excitements and 
 interruptions of a visit in that great metropolis. 
 When, after the death of her mother, and removal 
 of his children by marriage, her father was left 
 alone, she felt it to be her duty, notwithstanding 
 the devotion of her life to study, to return and su- 
 perintend his domestick establishment. With the 
 avails of her publications, she purchased a house, 
 where she conveyed her only surviving parent, and 
 for the last fourteen years of his life, made his daily 
 comfort, one of the ruling objects of her existence. 
 
EMPLOYMENTS* 83 
 
 When a literary friend expressed anxiety lest 
 these domestick cares should interfere with her 
 intellectual pursuits, she replied : "I am much 
 obliged to you for the kind partiality which induces 
 you to regret my giving up so much time to do- 
 mestick economy. As to any thing of this kind 
 hurting the dignity of my head, I have no idea of 
 it, even were the head of more consequence than 
 I feel it to be. The true post of honour consists 
 in the discharge of those duties, whatever they 
 happen to be, which arise from that situation, in 
 which Providence has placed us, and which we 
 may be assured is the very situation best calcula- 
 ted for our happiness and virtue." 
 
 If this could be said, by the translator of Epic- 
 tetus, whose deep and varied knowledge enabled 
 her to fit a young nephew for the university, with 
 how little reason, can the lighter studies of modern 
 female education, be brought as an excuse for 
 utter neglect or dislike of domestick employments. 
 
 It should be remembered that while this distin- 
 guished woman acquainted herself with every duty 
 and detail, which could make the house which she 
 superintended, agreeable to her father and others, 
 she laid aside none of her literary or scientiflck 
 pursuits. The same perseverance by which she 
 acquired many languages, she kept in action to 
 retain them. Her daily system was to read before 
 breakfast, two chapters in the Bible, a sermon, and 
 some Hebrew, Greek and Latin. After breakfast, 
 she read a portion in each of the nine languages 
 
84 JDOMESTICK 
 
 with which she was acquainted, so as not to allow 
 herself to lose what she had once gained, while, in 
 her department of housekeeping, nothing was de- 
 ficient or omitted. 
 
 It has been sometimes urged as an objection 
 against the modern system of female education, 
 that the wide range of science which it compri- 
 ses, turns the attention of the young from house- 
 hold duty, and renders them impatient of its details 
 and labours. This argument seems to address 
 itself to mothers. It might be in their power to 
 refute it, and to associate in the minds of their 
 daughters, with a love of study, a knowledge of 
 the unpretending pursuits of their own future prov- 
 ince. Maternal affection would naturally prompt 
 the wish to save them from the mistakes and per- 
 plexities to which ignorance might in future ex- 
 pose them. Though perhaps little native affinity 
 exists between intellectual pursuits and household 
 cares, they may doubtless be so united as to re- 
 lieve each other ; and she will give strong proof of 
 the best education and the best regulated mind, 
 who neglects the fewest duties, and despises none. 
 
 Order and punctuality are indispensable to those 
 who would well govern a family. The virtues 
 have been styled gregarious. Punctuality, in par- 
 ticular, propagates itself. If the mistress of a 
 house is punctual, the inmates under her roof be- 
 come so. It is the very soul of system. The 
 spirit of order also diffuses itself from the head 
 to the members of a household. One argument, 
 
EMPLOYMENTS. 85 
 
 for having every surrounding object neatly arran- 
 ged, is that the operations of the mind are thus in- 
 fluenced. The late President Dwight used to 
 enjoin it upon his students, never to seat them- 
 selves for intellectual labour, especially for com- 
 position, until their rooms were in perfect order. 
 Sterne found himself impeded in his literary prog- 
 ress, unless every surrounding article was in its 
 place, and himself dressed with neatness. The 
 musical genius of Haydn failed to inspire him, 
 unless his person was carefully arrayed. Lord 
 Bacon, whose mighty mind might be supposed to 
 rise superior to trifling circumstances, acknow- 
 ledged that he composed with far greater ease, 
 when flowers were tastefully arranged around him. 
 If our sex are not often interrupted in any great 
 literary enterprise, by the disorder of materials 
 under their control, they may be painfully con- 
 scious of embarrassed feelings, when surprised by 
 unexpected company, in a careless costume, or a 
 parlour disarranged. 
 
 It will be found that in the science of house- 
 keeping, no slight degree of practical knowledge 
 is required, to direct others with propriety and 
 profit. 
 
 In a state of society, where equality prevails, 
 and where the desire of living without labour is but 
 too common, servants, thoroughly trained in their 
 several departments, are not always to be found. 
 To instruct those who are ignorant ; to know when 
 they have done well, and when they have done 
 
 8 
 
66 DOMBSTICK 
 
 enough, when they have reason to be weary, or a 
 right to complain, it is necessary to have had some 
 personal experience of what is required of them. 
 Complaints of the errors of domesticks are very 
 common, and with none more so than with those 
 who are least qualified to direct them. Perhaps 
 too much is expected of them ; perhaps we neg- 
 lect to make due allowance for their causes of irri- 
 tation, or to sympathize in the hardships of their lot. 
 Possibly we may sometimes forget that the distinc- 
 tions in society are no certain test of intrinsick mer- 
 it, and that we " all have one Master, even Christ." 
 Yet admitting that the ranks and stations are not 
 very clearly defined, and that the lower classes 
 sometimes press upon the higher ; this is in ac- 
 cordance with the spirit of a republick, and all 
 should be willing to pay some tax for the privi- 
 leges of a government, which admits such a high 
 degree, and wide expansion of happiness. If our 
 domesticks draw back from the performance of 
 what the spirit of feudal times, or aristocratick sway 
 might exact, a remedy still remains ; to moderate 
 our wants, and study simplicity in our style of 
 living. Much time will be rescued for valuable 
 pursuits, when the love of show and vanity, with 
 their countless expenses and competitions, are 
 stricken from our household lists. She who is 
 content to live more plainly than her neighbours, 
 and dress more simply than her associates, when 
 reason, or the wishes of her friends require it, has 
 gained no slight ascent in true philosophy. 
 
EMPLOYMENTS. 87 
 
 You will perhaps think me an advocate of un- 
 graceful toils, or a setter forth of strange and obso- 
 lete opinions. Still bear with me in your courtesy 
 for the few remarks that remain. I would not 
 decry the embellishments of life : I render them 
 due honour ; but I should grieve to see you defi- 
 cient in its plain and practical duties. Fashion 
 will take care of the former, so I have argued for 
 the latter. Fortunate shall I esteem myself, if the 
 attention of but one mind shall thus be turned to 
 those occupations which render home delightful. 
 
 I have ever thought it desirable that young la- 
 dies should make themselves the mistresses of 
 some attainment, either in art or science, by which 
 they might secure a subsistence, should they be 
 reduced to poverty. Sudden and entire reverses 
 are not uncommon in the history of affluence. To 
 sustain them without the means of lessening the 
 evils of dependance, when health and intellect are 
 at oui command, is adding helplessness to our 
 own affliction, and increasing the burden of oth- 
 ers. When the illustrious Henry Laurens, by the 
 fortune of our war of Revolution, was held a pris- 
 oner in the Tower of London, he wrote to his two 
 daughters, who had been nurtured in all the ten- 
 derness and luxury of Carolinian wealth : " It is 
 my duty to warn you to prepare for the trial of 
 earning your daily bread by your daily labour. 
 Fear not servitude ; encounter it, if it shall be ne- 
 cessary, with the spirit becoming a woman of an 
 honest and pious heart ; one who has been neither 
 
88 DOMESTICK 
 
 fashionably nor affectedly religious." The accom 
 plished Madame de Genlis pronounced herself to 
 be in possession of thirty trades, or varieties of 
 occupation, by which she could, if necessary, ob- 
 tain a livelihood. It was a wise law of some of 
 the ancient governments, which compelled every 
 parent to give his son some trade or profession, 
 adequate to his support. Such is now the variety 
 of departments open to females, as instructers in 
 schools and seminaries of their own sex, that they 
 may follow the impulse of their genius in the se- 
 lection of a study or accomplishment, and while 
 they pursue it as a pleasure, be prepared to prac- 
 tise it as a profession. 
 
 Among the pleasant employments which seem 
 peculiarly congenial to the feelings of our sex, the 
 culture of flowers stands conspicuous. The gen- 
 eral superintendance of a garden has been repeat- 
 edly found favourable to health, by leading to fre- 
 quent exercise in the open air, and that commu- 
 ning with Nature which is equally refreshing to the 
 heart. It was labouring with her own hands in her 
 garden, that the mother of Washington was found 
 by the youthful Marquis de la Fayette, when he 
 sought her blessing, as he was about to commit him- 
 self to the ocean, and return to his native clime. 
 Milton, who you recollect, was a great advocate that 
 woman should " study household good," has few 
 more eloquent descriptions, than those which rep- 
 resent our first mother at her floral toil amid the 
 sinless shades of Paradise, 
 
EMPLOYMENTS. 89 
 
 The tending of flowers has ever appeared to me 
 a fitting care for the young and beautiful. They 
 then dwell, as it were, among their own emblems, 
 and many a voice of wisdom breathes on their ear 
 from those brief blossoms, to which they appor- 
 tion the dew and the sunbeam. While they erad- 
 icate the weeds that deform, or the excrescences 
 that endanger them, is there not a perpetual moni- 
 tion uttered, of the work to be done in their own 
 heart ] From the admiration of these ever-vary- 
 ing charms, how naturally is the tender spirit led 
 upward in devotion to Him, "whose hand per- 
 fumes them, and whose pencil paints." Connect- 
 ed with the nurture of flowers, is the delightful 
 study of Botany, which imparts new attractions to 
 the summer sylvan walk, and prompts both to 
 salubrious exercise and scientifick research. A 
 knowledge of the physiology of plants, is not only 
 interesting in itself, but of practical import. The 
 brilliant colouring matter which they sometimes 
 yield, and the healthful influences which they pos- 
 sess, impart value to many an unsightly shrub, or 
 secluded plant, which might otherwise have been 
 suffered to blossom and to die, without a thought. 
 
 It is cheering, amid our solitary rambles, to 
 view, as friends, the fair objects that surround us, 
 to call to recollection their distinctive lineaments 
 of character, to array them with something of in- 
 telligence or utility, and to enjoy an intimate com- 
 panionship with nature. The female aborigines 
 of our country were distinguished by an extensive 
 
 8* 
 
90 DOMESTICK 
 
 acquaintance with the medicinal properties of 
 plants and roots, which enabled them, both in 
 peace and war, to be the healers of their tribes. 
 I would not counsel you to invade the province of 
 the physician. In our state of society, it would be 
 preposterous and arrogant. But sometimes, to 
 alleviate the slight indispositions of those you love, 
 by a simple infusion of the herbs which you have 
 reared or gathered, is a legitimate branch of that 
 nursing-kindness, which seems interwoven with 
 woman's nature. 
 
 And now, to sum up the whole matter. Though 
 in the morning of youth, a charm is thrown over 
 the landscape, every thorn in the path is hidden, 
 every inequality smoothed, yet still, life is not 
 " one long summer's day of indolence and mirth." 
 The sphere of woman is eminently practical. 
 There is much which she will be expected to do, 
 and ought therefore to learn, and to learn early, if 
 she would acquit herself creditably. Though to 
 combine the excellences of a housekeeper, with 
 much eminence in literature or science, requires 
 an energy seldom possessed — still there is no need 
 that domestick duties should preclude mental im- 
 provement, or extinguish intellectual enjoyment. 
 They may be united by diligence and perseve- 
 rance, and the foundation of these qualities should 
 be laid now, in youth. 
 
 If I have annoyed you by pressing too much on 
 your attention, the detail of humble and homely 
 employment, I pray you to forgive me. It is 
 
EMPLOYMENTS. 91 
 
 because I have felt the immense importance of 
 establishing habits of industry, while life is taking 
 its stamp and colouring. For " if the spring yield 
 no blossoms, in summer there will be no beauty, 
 and in autumn no fruit." The moments of the 
 young are like particles of gold, washed down by 
 the never-staying flood of time. She who neglects 
 to arrest them, or who exchanges them for trifles, 
 must stand in poverty before her Judge. " Thou 
 shalt always have joy in the evening," says the 
 good Thomas a Kempis, " if thou hast spent the 
 day well. Wherever thou art, turn every thing to 
 an occasion of improvement : if thou beholdest 
 good examples, let them kindle in thee a desire of 
 imitation ; if thou seest any thing blameable be- 
 ware of doing it thyself." 
 
 The province of our sex, though subordinate, is 
 one of peculiar privilege : sheltered from tempta- 
 tion, and in league with those silent and sleepless 
 charities, which bless without seeking applause. 
 The duty of submission, imposed both by the na- 
 ture of our station and the ordinances of God, dis- 
 poses to that humility, which is the essence of 
 piety; while our physical weakness, our trials, 
 and our inability to protect ourselves, prompt that 
 trust in Heaven, that implicit leaning upon a Di- 
 vine arm, which is the most enduring strength, and 
 the surest protection. 
 
LETTER VI. 
 
 HEALTH AND DRESS. 
 
 The importance of attention to health is univer- 
 sally admitted. Formerly, the intellectual part of 
 our nature was too exclusively regarded in educa- 
 tion. Its early and intense action, in every form 
 of precocity was encouraged. Now, physical 
 welfare is also consulted. That increasing care is 
 bestowed on the safety of the temple where the 
 mind lodges — proves that the structure of that 
 mind is better understood ; and the mutual reac- 
 tion of the ethereal and clay companion, more 
 clearly comprehended. 
 
 The great amount of learning and eloquence, 
 unbodied in the medical profession, has illustrated 
 and enforced this subject. It is not presumed that 
 this little volume can suggest any thing new. Yet 
 it is always safe to repeat those precepts which 
 have peculiar affinity with the safety and comfort 
 of our sex. 
 
 The feebleness of females, especially in our 
 large cities, has long been a source of remark, re- 
 gret, and even reproach. It has been supposed in 
 our own country, that their vigour has deteriorated, 
 within two or three past generations. Habits of 
 
HEALTH AND DRESS. 93 
 
 refinement and affluence, seem to have produced 
 an enervating effect. It is important to inquire 
 for the remedy and to pursue it. 
 
 Regularity in the hours of rising and retiring, 
 perseverance in exercise, adaptation of costume to 
 the variations of climate, simple and nutritious 
 aliment, and " temperance in all things" are ne- 
 cessary branches of a sanitory regimen. Living 
 in houses which are kept at too high a tempera- 
 ture during winter, and disregarding the ventila- 
 tion of the sleeping-room, are habits of exceed- 
 ingly pernicious tendency. The power of endur- 
 ing exposure to our varying and extreme seasons, 
 is desirable. Yet as there are constitutions of 
 such susceptibility, and temporary states of health 
 to which all are subject, when exposure would be 
 both unwise and unsafe, young ladies should ac- 
 quaint themselves with some of those forms of ac- 
 tive domestick industry, which offer a substitute, 
 when walking abroad is prohibited. Every house- 
 keeper can instruct her daughters in a sufficient 
 variety of these, to prevent her health from suffer- 
 ing, during those occasional sequestrations which 
 must unavoidably occur. Though exercise in the 
 open air, should be daily taken by the young, 
 whenever it is possible — yet it is better to culti- 
 vate that pliancy of constitution, which can health- 
 fully exist for a temporary period without it, than 
 to create such entire dependance on external move- 
 ment, as to induce languor and sickness when it is 
 necessarily precluded. A judicious mother pro- 
 
94 HEALTH AND DRESS. 
 
 posed to her daughters a certain proportion of 
 morning exercise with the broom, in the parlour 
 and in then: own apartments. " This sweeping 
 makes my arms ache," was their objection after 
 the trial of a few days. " Try it till your arms do 
 not ache," was the laconick, but kind reply. Her 
 own experience had taught her, that muscular, as 
 well as mental energy, required habitual training. 
 Vigorous exercise will often fortify a feeble con- 
 stitution. Walking, especially among rural scen- 
 ery, is highly salubrious. Riding on horseback, 
 and sea-bathing, when they can be safely and 
 conveniently attained, are powerful tonics for a 
 delicate tissue of nerves. 
 
 Since without health, both industry and enjoy- 
 ment languish, and since the physical imbecility 
 of our sex, operates so banefuhy upon the whole 
 structure of domestick welfare, it is desirable to 
 multiply those modes of exercise, which are de- 
 cidedly feminine. Among them, few are more 
 conducive to vigour, than that almost obsolete one, 
 the use of the great spinning-wheel. A writer of 
 other times, styles it somewhat quaintly " Hygeia's 
 harp." The universal exercise which it gives the 
 frame, maks it an efficacious remedy for debility. 
 Its regular, moderate use, has been found salutary 
 even in pulmonary affections. 
 
 It is a source of regret that domestick manufac- 
 tures are so generally banished from the houses of 
 our agriculturists. There are undoubtedly some 
 fabricks which it would still be profitable to con- 
 
HEALTH AND DRESS. 95 
 
 struct there. But admitting that they are less lu- 
 crative than before the establishment of incorpo- 
 rated manufactories, the gain which they propose, 
 is of a higher order — the gain of contentment, 
 homefelt happiness, and that increasing interest in 
 domestick concerns, for want of which, many of 
 our young females seek objects of a more exciting 
 and questionable tendency. The busy sound of 
 the wheel, mingling with the song of sisters, as 
 they transmute the snowy fleece into apparel for 
 those whom they love, has a native association 
 with cheerfulness and comfort. 
 
 In ancient times, queens and princesses consid- 
 ered the use of the distaff, as no derogation from 
 their dignity. Neither in modern times, is it al- 
 ways despised. Mrs. Hannah More, after a visit 
 to the Dutchess of Gloucester, and the Princess 
 Sophia, writes : " The former gave me a quantity 
 of worsted, of her own spinning, for me to knit 
 into stockings for the poor." If the royalty of 
 England, and the talent which that royalty ac- 
 knowledged, and by which not only England, but 
 the world was benefited, have not felt such em- 
 ployments beneath them, why should we ? 
 
 On the subject of Dress, I am aware that much 
 has been said and written to little purpose. The 
 laws of fashion are often so preposterous, her do- 
 minion so arbitrary, that Reason and Philosophy 
 can have little hope of gaining ground in her em- 
 pire. Neither is it wise to expect of the young, 
 a superiority to reigning modes. Singularity is 
 
96 HEALTH AND DRESS. 
 
 never desirable. Still it is possible not to be ec- 
 centrick, and yet to avoid such a style of dress, as 
 opposes taste, produces deformity, or leads to un- 
 necessary expense. There are a few rules which 
 ought never to be violated by females. 
 
 I. Not to permit fashion to impair health. 
 This is worse than "to spend money for that 
 which is not bread, and labour for that which sat- 
 isfieth not." Strong contrasts between the cos- 
 tume worn at home, and abroad, in the morning 
 and at evening parties, are exceedingly prejudicial 
 during the severity of our climate. How often is 
 it the case, that a comfortable garment, worn 
 throughout the winter's day, is thrown off at night, 
 and one of the lightest texture assumed, with a 
 formidable portion of the chest and shoulders left 
 uncovered, while the thermometer is below zero. 
 Mothers ! who are surely interested in the life of 
 your daughters, and whose advice it is hoped, is 
 never rejected, these things ought not so to be. 
 
 Would that I might persuade my fair young 
 friends, of the importance of preserving their feet 
 in a comfortable and regular temperature. A del- 
 icate silk or cotten stocking, with a thin-soled 
 shoe, in the depth of winter, will exhibit to advan- 
 tage a foot of exquisite symmetry, but the conse- 
 quences may be mournfully computed, when the 
 " evil days of disease come, and the years draw 
 nigh," when, as far as health is concerned, it must 
 be said, " there is no pleasure in them." 
 
 Another point of extreme importance in dress, 
 
HEALTH AND DRESS. 97 
 
 is to avoid compression. The evils of obstructed 
 circulation are formidable. Stricture in the region 
 of the lungs and heart, is deeply perilous. Those 
 watchful sentinels, who keep the sacred citadel of 
 life — and never take rest when the other parts of 
 the body slumber, deserve better treatment. How 
 unjust and ungrateful to compel them to labour in 
 fetters, like a galley-slave, and to put those servants 
 to the torture, who turn the wheels of existence, 
 both night and day. I conceive some knowledge 
 of anatomy to be a requisite part of female edu- 
 cation. An acquaintance with the complicated 
 structure, and mysterious mechanism of this clay 
 temple, would prevent from so thoughtlessly bring- 
 ing destructive agents to bear upon its frailty. It 
 might also heighten adoration of that Being by 
 whom, to borrow the beautiful figure of Watts, 
 this " harp of thousand strings is made, and kept 
 in tune so long." 
 
 Few circumstances are more injurious to beau- 
 ty, than the constrained movement, suffused com- 
 plexion, and laboured respiration, that betray tight- 
 lacing. The play of intelligence and varied emo- 
 tion, which throw such a charm over the brow of 
 youth, are impeded by whatever obstructs the 
 flow of blood from the heart to its many organs. 
 In Greece, where the elements of beauty and 
 grace were earliest comprehended, and most hap- 
 pily illustrated, the fine symmetry of the form was 
 left untortured. 
 
 But the influence of this habit on beauty is far 
 
 9 
 
98 HEALTH AND DRESS. 
 
 less to be deprecated than its effects upon health. 
 That pulmonary disease, affections of the heart, 
 and insanity, are in its train, and that it leads some 
 of our fairest and dearest to fashion's shrine to die, 
 is placed beyond a doubt, by strong medical tes- 
 timony. 
 
 Dr. Mussey, whose " Lectures on Intemperance" 
 have so forcibly arrested the attention of the pub- 
 lick, asserts, that " greater numbers annually die 
 among the female sex, in consequence of tight-la- 
 cing, than are destroyed among the other sex by 
 the use of spirituous liquors in the same time." 
 Is it possible that thousands of our own sex, in 
 our own native land, lay with their own hand, the 
 foundation of diseases that destroy life, and are 
 willing for fashion's sake to commit suicide ? 
 
 The author of " The Influence of Mental Cul- 
 tivation upon Health," asserts, that " whatever 
 tends to diminish the capacity of the chest, tends 
 also to produce organick disease of the heart and 
 lungs. Tight lacing is ever a dangerous practice, 
 for if the heart does not suffer, the lungs and spine 
 very frequently do." 
 
 Dr. Todd, the late Principal of the Retreat for 
 the Insane, in Connecticut, to whom science and 
 philanthrophy are indebted, adduced many instan- 
 ces of the fearful effects of obstructed circulation 
 on the brain. Being requested by the instructress 
 of a large female seminary, to enforce on her pu- 
 pils the evils of compression in dress, he said, 
 with that eloquence of eye and soul, which none 
 
HEALTH AND DRESS. 99 
 
 who once felt their influence can ever forget : 
 " The whole course of your studies, my dear 
 young ladies, conspires to impress you with reve- 
 rence for antiquity. Especially, do you turn to 
 Greece, for the purest models in the fine arts and 
 the loftiest precepts of philosophy. While sitting 
 as disciples at the feet of her men of august mind, 
 you may have sometimes doubted how to balance, 
 or where to bestow your admiration. The acute- 
 ness of Aristotle, the purity of Plato, the calm un- 
 repented satisfactions of Socrates, the varied lore 
 of Epicurus, and the lofty teachings of Zeno, have 
 alternately attracted or absorbed your attention. 
 Permit me to suppose that the high-toned ethicks 
 of the stoicks, and their elevation of mind, which 
 could teach its frail companion, the body, the proud 
 lesson of insensibility to pain, have won your pecu- 
 liar complacence. Yet, while meting out to them 
 the full measure of your applause — have you ever 
 recollected that modern times, that your own coun- 
 try came in competition for a share of fame ? Has 
 it occurred to you, that your own sex, even the 
 most delicate and tender part of it, exceeded the 
 ancient stoicks in the voluntary infliction of pain, 
 and extinction of pity? Yes, some of the timid 
 and beautiful members of this seminary, may en- 
 ter the lists with Zeno, Cleanthus, and Chrysip- 
 pus, and cherish no slight hope of victory. I 
 trust to prove to you, that the ancient and sublime 
 stoicks were very tyroes in comparison of many a 
 lady of our own times. In degree of suffering, in 
 
100 HEALTH AND DRESS, 
 
 extent ot endurance, and in perfection of conceal- 
 ment, they must yield the palm. I do assure you, 
 that its most illustrious masters, fruitful as they 
 were in tests to try the body, never invented, im- 
 agined, or would have been able to sustain that 
 torture of tight-lacing, which the modern belle 
 steadily inflicts without shrinking, and bears with- 
 out repining, sometimes to her very grave. True, 
 they might sometimes have broken a bone, or 
 plucked out an eye, and been silent. But they 
 never grappled iron and whalebone into the very 
 nerves and life-blood of their system. They might 
 possibly have passed a dagger too deeply into the 
 heart, and died : but they never drew a ligature of 
 suffocation around it, and expected to live. They 
 never tied up the mouths of the millions of air- 
 vessels in the lungs, and then taxed them to the 
 full measure of action and respiration. Even 
 Pharaoh only demanded brick without straw for a 
 short time. But the fashionable lady asks to live 
 without breathing for many years. 
 
 " The ancient stoicks taught, that the nearest ap 
 proach to apathy, was the perfection of their doc 
 trine. They prudently rested in utter indifference. 
 They did not attempt to go beyond it. They did 
 not claim absolute denial of all suffering. Still less 
 did they enjoin to persist and rejoice in it, even to 
 the ' dividing asunder of soul and spirit.' In this, 
 too, you will perceive the tight-laced lady taking a 
 flight beyond the sublime philosopher. She will 
 not admit that she feels the slightest inconvenience. 
 
HEALTH AND DRESS. 101 
 
 Though she has fairly won laurels to which no 
 stoick dared aspire — yet she studiously disclaims 
 the distinction which she faced death to earn, yea, 
 denies that she has either part or lot in the matter, 
 surpassing in modesty, as well as in desert, all 
 that antiquity can boast, or history record." 
 
 We may appeal for evidence of the ravages of 
 extreme stricture in dress, even to the annals of 
 the King of Terrors. Dr. Reese, in speaking of 
 the dissection of two young females who had been 
 addicted to tight-lacing, remarks : " The adhesion 
 of parts, and derangement of structure, were truly 
 frightful." 
 
 The opinion of other eminent physicians, it 
 would be easy to adduce. But I have already to 
 ask your forbearance for a subject, on which I 
 have been diffuse because there seemed much to 
 say, and in earnest, because I felt it to be of im- 
 portance to the most beautiful and interesting part 
 of the community. The late lamented Dr. Spurz- 
 heim, assumed the proposition, that the " physi- 
 cal education of ivomen, was of more importance 
 to the welfare of the world than that of men.'' 1 
 The rude Spartans well understood this principle. 
 The requisitions of their lawgivers, and the pub- 
 lick cares of the nation, were devoted to the phys- 
 ical welfare, and athletick developments of our 
 sex. They omitted in their scale of excellence, 
 that intellectual culture, and refinement of sensi- 
 bility, to which we too often sacrifice health and 
 vigour. They made the mind a vassal to the 
 
102 HEALTH AND DRESS. 
 
 body : we too often make the body a martyr to 
 the mind. I hope, my dear young friends, you 
 will sanction neither their vassalage, nor our mar- 
 tyrdom, but steering wisely between extremes, so 
 avoid every species of imprudence, to which your 
 period of life is too prone, as not be condemned to 
 mourn at last, when the flesh and body are con- 
 sumed, saying : " How have I hated instruction, 
 and my heart despised reproof." 
 
 II. Dress should never infringe on delicacy. 
 This point I would prefer not to dilate upon, but 
 rather recommend to your own reflection, and in- 
 nate sense of propriety. Unfavourable inferences 
 are usually drawn of those who go to extent in 
 any fashion, whose principle is display. Minds 
 of true refinement will never be in danger of up- 
 holding a style of dress which leads to indecorous 
 exposure ; and those of discernment cannot fail 
 to perceive, that what may be thus gained in ad- 
 miration, is lost in respect. 
 
 III. Dress ought not to involve unnecessary 
 expense. Every individual, in providing her 
 wardrobe, should call into exercise a correct judg- 
 ment, and a thorough understanding of what she 
 can afford. Thus she will avoid the uncomforta- 
 ble habit of pressing on those who supply her 
 purse, demands which are inconsistent with their 
 finances. To make superiors in fortune, the 
 standard of imitation, betrays a defective judg- 
 ment ; since a proper expenditure for them, would 
 in others be extravagant and unjust. Having as- 
 
HEALTH AND DRESS. 103 
 
 certained the point of expenditure, beyond which 
 you ought not to go, an account-book should be 
 regularly kept, and the price of every article pur- 
 chased, with the date affixed, be accurately and 
 neatly recorded, that current expenses, with their 
 annual amount, may be ever subject to your own 
 inspection, and the revision of those by whom 
 your resources are furnished. Whatever your 
 allowance, or income may be, never spend the 
 whole upon your own person. By moderating 
 your wants, and by economy in the preservation 
 of your wardrobe, reserve to yourself the power 
 and the pleasure, of occasional and simple presents 
 to those whom you love. Let the claims of the 
 poor come into remembrance. A well-regulated 
 mind will experience true satisfaction in avoiding 
 the purchase of an expensive garment, that the 
 sickly sufferer may be clothed and fed. 
 
 •It is a beautiful self-denial for the affluent to set 
 an example of plainness and simplicity. Such an 
 influence is peculiarly salutary in our state of so- 
 ciety, where the large class of young females, who 
 earn a subsistence by labour, are so addicted to 
 the love of finery, as often to omit the substantial 
 and comfortable articles of apparel, and lay up 
 nothing from the wages of many years of service. 
 The conscientious will therefore inquire, not 
 merely if they are able to indulge in expensive 
 decorations, but what will be the effect of their 
 example, on those who are not. 
 
 IV. Dress should not engross too much time. 
 
104 HEALTH AND DRESS. 
 
 The duties of the toilette should be confined to 
 regular periods, and to reasonable bounds. She 
 who contemplates her own image too constantly, 
 will be less disposed for higher subjects of thought. 
 Neatness, comfort, and a becoming costume, are 
 objects worthy of attention. But a profusion of 
 ornament, is neither necessary nor graceful to the 
 young. There is a beauty in their own fair sea- 
 son of life, and in the sweet and happy tempera- 
 ment which ought to accompany it, that strikes 
 more strongly on the heart, than " gold or pearls, 
 or costly array." A showy style of dress, is pe- 
 culiarly inappropriate to those who are pursuing 
 their education. It indicates that something be- 
 sides study, has taken possession of the heart. 
 
 To highly ornamented and striking apparel in 
 church, there are still stronger objections. A 
 morning spent in the decoration of the person, is a 
 poor preparation for the duties of the soul. An 
 eye roving about among surrounding costumes, 
 during the solemn services, and a heart disposed 
 to comment upon them in the family, are little in 
 unison with the design of the Sabbath, and sinfully 
 subversive of its sacred privileges. 
 
 Let us now dismiss the subject of Dress, with 
 the single remark, that simplicity and grace seem 
 to be the elements of its power to charm, and that 
 those will be the least in danger of permitting it 
 to absorb too much of their time, whose hearts are 
 filled with the love of higher and better things. 
 
LETTER VII. 
 
 MANNERS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 
 
 The desire of pleasing is natural and strong in 
 youth. If guided to correct channels, it is an in- 
 centive to improvement, and happiness. When it 
 rejects the motive of selfishness, and seeks only 
 to " please others for their edification," it becomes 
 a Christian virtue. This may be easily distin- 
 guished from that restless pursuit of popularity, 
 which being the offspring of ambition and pride, 
 ever involves some elements of disappointment 
 and envy. 
 
 In the art of pleasing, the instruments least de- 
 pendant on contingencies, are undoubtedly good 
 manners. They are of far more importance to the 
 young, than the adventitious distinctions of dress 
 and beauty : more valuable than the latter, because 
 more permanent, and more certain in their results 
 than the former, because a style of dress which 
 attracts one class of admirers may be repulsive to 
 another, but fine manners are intelligible to all 
 mankind, and a passport in every country. 
 
 Affability and the smile of cheerfulness are ex?- 
 pected from the young, as spontaneous expressions 
 of the felicity of their fair season of life. ■" Soft- 
 
106 MANNERS AND 
 
 ness of manner, and complacency of countenance," 
 says Dr. Darwin, u gentle, unhurried motion, and 
 a voice clear and tender, are charms that enchant 
 all hearts." It was the praise of Anne of Austria, 
 the mother of Lewis the Great, that her manners 
 evinced dignity without pride, more striking than 
 even her youth and extreme beauty, and that there 
 was in her countenance such a living charm of 
 benignant expression, as communicated to those 
 who beheld her, tenderness chastened by respect. 
 Good manners, to be consistent, must be founded 
 on a principle of justice. Their tribute of defer- 
 ence and respect should be first paid where it is 
 first due ; to parents, teachers, ministers of reli- 
 gion, civil rulers, superiors in knowledge, and 
 those whose whitened heads bear the crown of 
 time and of virtue. It seems to be among the evils 
 of modern times, that such distinctions are too 
 little acknowledged. Wealth attracts the gaze of 
 the vulgar, and sometimes wins influence, though 
 unassociated with talents or piety ; but those 
 grades of rank, which are announced by the voice 
 of nature, and the precept of God, demand our 
 reverence. They constitute orders of nobility, 
 even in a republick, and those who pay them due 
 honour, reflect honour upon themselves. Especial- 
 ly, is it fitting and graceful for the young of our sex, 
 to recognise the claims which a refined and reli- 
 gious community impose. Would that I might 
 persuade each one of them, to show the most 
 marked deference to age. It was remarked of a 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 107 
 
 lady, distinguished both for talents and accomplish- 
 ments, that when in company, she always selected 
 the oldest persons for her first and highest atten- 
 tions, afterward, children, or those who, from 
 humble fortune or plain appearance, were liable to 
 be neglected, shared that regard from her, which 
 made them happy and at ease. Her manners, if 
 analyzed, seemed a combination of equity and be- 
 nevolence ; first, rendering what she considered to 
 be due, and then pursuing what she felt to be de- 
 lightful. Respect to age, and kindness to child- 
 hood, are among the tests of an amiable disposi- 
 tion. Undeviating civility to those of inferior sta- 
 tions, and courtesy to all, are the emanations of a 
 well-educated mind, and finely-balanced feelings. 
 There is a certain blending of dignity with sweet- 
 ness, not often exhibited, but always irresistible. 
 Without creating reserve, or chilling friendship, it 
 repels every improper freedom, and couples re- 
 spect with love. It combines a correct estimate 
 of the high destinies of our nature, with a tender 
 sympathy for all its infirmities. 
 
 There was a fine character of dignity, in the 
 manner of females of the higher classes in the olden 
 time. We, of modern days, think it was some- 
 times carried too far ; but we are verging to the 
 opposite extreme. So anxious are we to be enter- 
 taining in society, that we reserve no power by 
 w r hich its follies are to be checked, or its tenden- 
 cies elevated. 
 
 The mother of Washington was pronounced a 
 
108 MANNERS AND ' 
 
 model of true dignity in woman. She possessed 
 the lofty characteri sticks of a Roman matron, with 
 a heart of deep and purified affections, and a maj- 
 esty that commanded the reverence of all. At the 
 head of a large household, whose charge, by the 
 death of her husband, devolved solely upon her, 
 the energy and dignity of her character preserved 
 subordination and harmony. To the inquiry what 
 was the course pursued in the early education of 
 her illustrious son, she replied : " The lesson to 
 obey? When the war of the Revolution termi- 
 nated so gloriously for his country and for him, 
 and when after an absence of nearly seven years, 
 he hastened to pay his filial respects to his vener- 
 ated parent, the officers of the French and Ameri- 
 can armies were anxious to see the mother of their 
 chief. A splendid festival, given at Fredericks- 
 burgh, to welcome the conquerors of Cornwallis, 
 furnished them with an opportunity. " The for- 
 eign officers," says Mr. Custis, in his " Recollec- 
 tions of Washington," " had heard indistinct ru- 
 mours of her remarkable life and character, and 
 forming their judgments from European examples, 
 were prepared to expect that glare and show, 
 which would have been attached to the parents of 
 the great, in the countries of the Old World. How 
 were they surprised, when the matron, leaning on 
 the arm of her son, entered the room dressed in the 
 very plain, yet becoming garb, worn by the Vir- 
 ginian lady of the old time of day. Her address, 
 always dignified and imposing, was courteous, 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 1 06 
 
 tflOUgh reserved. She received the compliment- 
 ary attentions that were paid her, without evin- 
 cing the slightest elevation, and at an early hour, 
 wishing the brilliant assembly much enjoyment of 
 their pleasure, retired as she had entered, resting 
 Upon the arm of her son. Such an effect had her 
 simplicity of garb, and dignity of bearing, upon the 
 
 officers accustomed to the heartless pomp of EuTO- 
 p( ,iii courts, that they affirmed it was no wonder 
 that "America produced the greatest nun, since 
 she could boast of such mothers." 
 
 The style of manners, like the fashion of dress, 
 changes with different ftgOS, and takes a Colouring 
 from the spirit of the time 8. Ceremonies vary, 
 but the ornament of courteous and dignified de- 
 portment is never obsolete. It will adorn and give 
 
 weight to character wherever refinement is appre- 
 ciated, or kindness of heart beloved. 
 
 With regard to accomplishments, as they arc 
 popularly termed, so much depends upon circum- 
 stances, the wishes of those who direct education, 
 and the impulse of taste, that it would be, impos- 
 sible to give any definite rule, except that they do 
 not Interfere with the attainment of solid learning. 
 The true order of acquisition seems to be, first, 
 what is necessary ; second., what is useful ; third, 
 what is ornamental. To reverse, this arrangement, 
 is like beginning to build at the top of the edifice. 
 Let the foundation be laid firm and deep, and the 
 superstructure may safely admit of ornament. 
 Stated parts of the day should be allotted as their 
 
 10 
 
110 MANNERS AND 
 
 province, that they need not entrench on the limits 
 of more essential, though less alluring pursuits. 
 
 Before entering upon this part of my subject, 
 permit me to present a solemn passage from that 
 eminent author, who has given a motto to this vol- 
 ume, and whose writings, having been celebrated 
 throughout the world, ought at least to claim the 
 deference of her own sex . " Is it fair," she asks, 
 " that what relates to the body, and the organs of 
 the body, I mean those accomplishments which 
 address themselves to the eye and to the ear, 
 should occupy almost the whole thoughts ; while 
 the intellectual part is robbed of its due propor- 
 tion, and the spiritual part has almost no propor- 
 tion at all ? Is not this preparing the young for 
 an awful disappointment, in the tremendous day, 
 when they must be stripped of that body, of those 
 senses and organs which have been made almost 
 the sole objects of their attention, and shall feel 
 themselves in possession of nothing but that spir- 
 itual part, which in education was scarcely taken 
 into the account of their existence V 
 
 A taste for Drawing, heightens the admiration 
 of Nature by enforcing a closer examination of her 
 exquisite workmanship, from the hues of the wild 
 flower, to the grandeur of the forest, and the glow- 
 ing beauties of the extended landscape. The con- 
 struction of maps, often taught to children at 
 school, is a good preparation for the study of per- 
 spective, while the vignettes with which they may 
 be adorned, give exercise and expansion to the 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS. Ill 
 
 young germs of taste. Those who make such ad- 
 vances in Drawing and Painting, as to be able to 
 sketch designs and groups from History, derive 
 high intellectual pleasure, from this elegant attain- 
 ment. 
 
 Musick, at present the most popular of all ac- 
 complishments, is a source of surpassing delight 
 to many minds. From its power to sooth the feel- 
 ings, and modify the passions, it seems desirable 
 to understand it, if it does not involve too great 
 expense of time. Vocal musick is an accomplish- 
 ment, within the reach of most persons. " I have 
 a piano within myself," said a little girl, " and I 
 can play on that, if I have no other." 
 
 An excellent clergyman, possessing much know- 
 ledge of human nature, instructed his large family 
 of daughters, in the theory and practice of musick. 
 They were all observed to be exceedingly amiable 
 and happy. A friend inquired if there was any 
 secret in his mode of education. He replied: 
 " When any thing disturbs their temper, I say to 
 them sing, and if I hear them speaking against 
 any person, I call them to sing to me, and so they 
 have sung away all causes of discontent, and every 
 disposition to scandal." Such a use of this ac- 
 complishment might serve to fit a family for the 
 company of angels, and the clime of praise. 
 Young voices around the domestick altar, breath- 
 ing sacred musick, at the hour of morning and 
 evening devotion, are a sweet and touching ac- 
 companiment. 
 
112 MANNERS AND 
 
 Instrumental musick, being more expensive in its 
 attainment, both of money and time, and its indif- 
 ferent performance giving pain to those of refined 
 sensibility, seems scarcely desirable to be culti- 
 vated, unless the impulse of native taste prompts 
 or justifies the labour. The spirited pen of Miss 
 Martineau, in her " Five First Years of Youth," has 
 sketched a pleasing description of a young lady 
 possessing a strong predilection for musick : " She 
 sang much and often, not that she had any partic- 
 ular aim at being very accomplished, but because 
 she loved it, or, as she said, because she could not 
 help it. She sang to Nurse Rickham's children — 
 she sang as she went up and down stairs — she 
 sang when she was glad and when she was sorry 
 — when her father was at home, because he liked 
 it, and when he was out, because he could not be 
 disturbed by it. In the woods at noonday, she 
 sang like a bird, that a bird might answer her ; and 
 if she awoke in the dark night the feeling of sol- 
 emn musick came over her, with which she dared 
 not break the silence." 
 
 Where such a taste exists, there is no doubt, that 
 opportunities for its improvement should be gladly 
 accepted. Where there is no taste, it seems cause 
 of regret, when time, perhaps health, are sacrificed 
 to the accomplishment. Even where a tolerable 
 performance of instrumental musick might proba- 
 bly be attained without the prompting of decided 
 taste, there may be danger of absorbing too much 
 of time and attention, from those employments 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 113 
 
 which a female ought to understand, and will be 
 expected to discharge. " I am nothing when 
 away from the piano," said an amateur of musick. 
 " If one happens to be in sight, I am always look- 
 ing at it, and while people are talking to me of 
 other things, I think only of that." 
 
 Dancing, which from ancient times ranked high 
 among accomplishments, has occasionally fallen 
 into disrepute, from the late hours, and display in 
 dress, with which it is too often associated. It 
 would be difficult to say why such accompani- 
 ments have been found necessary. It should be 
 entirely divested of them, and of the excitement 
 of mixed company, when it is taught to young 
 ladies who are attending school. Without these 
 restrictions, it has been known to break in upon a 
 prosperous course of study, and substitute frivo- 
 lous thought, and vanity of dress ; and surely the 
 period allotted to female education is sufficiently 
 limited, without such abridgment. 
 
 The polished Addison asserted that the princi- 
 pal use of a lady's being taught dancing was, that 
 she might " know how to sit still gracefully." As 
 a mode of exercise in the domestick circle, it is 
 healthful, and favourable to a cheerful flow of spir- 
 its. I was once accustomed to witness it in a 
 happy family, where the children at the close of 
 the reading and lessons which diversified the long 
 winter evenings, rose to the musick of the piano, 
 while the parents, and even grandparents, min- 
 gling with the blooming circle, gave dignity to the 
 
 10* 
 
114 MANNERS AND 
 
 
 innocent hilarity in which they participated. 
 There was nothing in this to war with the spirit 
 of the prayers which were soon to follow, or to 
 indispose to that hymn of praise, which hallowed 
 their nightly rest. Of dancing, with its usual 
 combinations of vanity, waste of time, and expo- 
 sure of health, this cannot be said : and for any 
 amusement or accomplishment necessarily attend- 
 ed with these serious drawbacks, I would not be 
 considered an advocate. 
 
 Reading aloud, with propriety and grace, is an 
 accomplishment, worthy the acquisition of females. 
 To enter into the spirit of an author, and convey 
 his sentiments with a happy adaptation of tone, 
 emphasis, and manner, is no common attainment. 
 It is peculiarly valuable in our sex, because it so 
 often gives them an opportunity of imparting pleas- 
 ure and improvement to an assembled family, du- 
 ring the winter evening, or the protracted storm. 
 In the zeal for feminine accomplishments, it would 
 seem that the graces of elocution had been too 
 little regarded. Permit me to fortify my opinion, 
 by the authority of the Rev. Mr. Gallaudet : " I 
 cannot understand, why it should be thought, as it 
 sometimes is, a departure from female delicacy, to 
 read in a promiscuous social circle, if called upon 
 to do so, from any peculiar circumstance, and to 
 read too as well as Garrick himself, if the young 
 lady possesses the power of doing it. Why may 
 she not do this, with as much genuine modesty, 
 and with as much of a desire to oblige her friends 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 115 
 
 and with as little of ostentation, as to sit down in 
 the same circle, to the piano, and play and sing, in 
 the style of the first masters ? If to do the for- 
 mer is making too much of a display of her tal- 
 ents, why should not the latter be so ? Nothing 
 but some strange freak of fashion, can have made 
 a difference." 
 
 Fine reading is an accomplishment, where the 
 inherent musick both of the voice and of the intel- 
 lect may be uttered ; for the scope and compass 
 of each, is often fully taxed, and happily develop- 
 ed, in the interpretation of delicate shades of 
 meaning, and gradations of thought. Its first ele- 
 ment, to be clearly understood, is often too much 
 disregarded, so that with some who are pronoun- 
 ced fashionable readers, low, or artificial intonations 
 so perplex the listener, as to leave it doubtful 
 whether the " uncertain sound, be piped or harp- 
 ed." 
 
 Thus it sometimes happens, that in fashionable 
 penmanship, the circumstance that it is to be de- 
 ciphered, seems to have been forgotten. " To 
 read so as not to be understood — and to write so 
 as not to be read, are among the minor immorali- 
 ties," says the excellent Mrs. Hannah More. El- 
 egant chirography, and a clear epistolary style, 
 are accomplishments which every educated female 
 should possess. Their indispensable requisites, 
 are neatness, the power of being easily perused — 
 orthographical and grammatical correctness. De- 
 fects in either of these particulars are scarcely par- 
 
116 MANNERS AND 
 
 donable. You are aware that the handwriting is 
 considered one of the talismans of character. 
 Whether this test may be depended on or not, the 
 fact that letters travel farther than the sound of 
 the voice, or the sight of the countenance can fol- 
 low, renders it desirable that they should convey 
 no incorrect or unfavourable impression. The les- 
 ser niceties of folding, sealing, and superscription, 
 are not beneath the notice of a lady. Mrs. Farrar, 
 in her excellent little work on Letter- writing, re- 
 marks, that it is " well to find out the best way of 
 doing every thing, since there is a pleasure in 
 doing things in the best ivay, which those miss, 
 who think any way will do." Do not indulge in a 
 careless style of writing, and excuse yourself on 
 the plea of haste. This nourishes a habit which 
 will be detrimental to excellence. Our sex have 
 been complimented as the possessors of a natural 
 taste for epistolary composition. It is an appro- 
 priate attainment, for it admits the language of the 
 heart which we understand, and rejects the elabo- 
 rate and profound sciences in which we are usu- 
 ally deficient. Ease and truth to nature, are its 
 highest ornaments, and Cicero proved himself to 
 be no less a master of its excellences, than of his 
 more sublime art of eloquence, when he said : 
 " Whatever may be the subject of my letters, they 
 still speak the language of conversation." 
 
 To a finished female education, the acquisition 
 of languages is generally deemed essential. The 
 patient research which they require is a good dis- 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 117 
 
 cipline for the mind, and the additional knowledge 
 they impart, of the etymology and use of our own 
 native tongue, is both valuable and delightful. 
 Yet they can scarcely be considered desirable ap- 
 pendages, unless thoroughly understood. To pre- 
 serve many in memory, even after they are care- 
 fully attained, requires more leisure than usually 
 falls to the lot of woman, when life's cares accu- 
 mulate around her. The attempt to pass off be- 
 fore a critick a smattering of a foreign tongue, is 
 a vanity easily detected, and always despised. 
 Those ladies who have the leisure, the intellect, 
 and the love of severe study, necessary to conquer 
 the idioms of the dead and living languages, will 
 doubtless find stores of literature and gems of 
 thought, sufficient to repay the toil. Still, I press 
 the monition, avoid being superficial. It is the 
 danger of females of the present age. Expected 
 to master the whole circle of sciences, with a clus- 
 ter of the fine arts in a few short years, and those 
 years too olten injudiciously curtailed by the van- 
 ities of dress and fashionable amusement, is it sur- 
 prising that they should sometimes have the rep- 
 utation of possessing, what they really do not un- 
 derstand ? Thus they even become willing to ap- 
 pear to others, what in reality they are not. Su- 
 perficial knowledge induces superficial habits of 
 thought. It strikes at the root of integrity. The 
 love of display is often permitted to enter too 
 much into the tissue of female education. Almost 
 the whole routine of domestick duty is opposed to 
 
118 MANNERS AND 
 
 it. Hence, there springs up a warfare, between 
 the early training and ultimate business of woman, 
 which her life is sometimes too short to harmonize 
 and settle. 
 
 " Brilliant talents, graces of person, confirmed 
 intrepidity, and a continual habit of displaying 
 these advantages, seem all that is aimed at in the 
 education of girls. The virtues that make domes- 
 tick life happy — the sober and useful qualities 
 which render a moderate fortune, and retired situ- 
 ation comfortable, are never inculcated. The pa- 
 rents' first error, in the preference of accomplish- 
 ments to virtues, naturally leads their miseducated 
 daughters, to prefer sentiment to principle, and 
 make it the guide of their life." This is the suf- 
 frage of the late celebrated Mrs. Montague. 
 Surety, none could be better qualified to pronounce 
 the value of brilliance, grace and accomplishments, 
 or to lay them in the balance, with that solid 
 knowledge, pure principle, and domestick virtue, 
 whose aggregate is but another name for happi- 
 ness. 
 
 Let us then be less anxious to make a display of 
 accomplishments, than to possess true merit. The 
 words of Archbishop Tillotson, are of weighty im- 
 port : " Sincerity, is to speak as we think, to do 
 as we intend and profess, to perform and make 
 good what we promise, and really to be, what we 
 would seem and appear to be." 
 
 For those whose lot forbids both the acquisition 
 of accomplishments, and the embellishments of 
 
ACCOMPLISHMENTS. 119 
 
 dress, there remains an attainment less adventi- 
 tious and more durable in its impression, than 
 either. True politeness, that charm to which eve- 
 ry nature is susceptible, is within their reach. It 
 is often seen rendering poverty, and the plainest 
 exterior agreeable, while its absence makes know- 
 ledge repulsive, and robs beauty of its power to 
 please. 
 
 This was what added the most attractive charm 
 to the beautiful Lady Jane Grey. The learned 
 Roger Ascham, after expatiating on her accom- 
 plishments, the elegance of her composition, and 
 her intimate acquaintance with the French, Italian, 
 Latin and Greek languages, adds, as the crowning 
 grace, the " possession of good manners." 
 
 True politeness requires humility, good sense, 
 and benevolence. To think more " highly of our- 
 selves than we ought to think," destroys its quick- 
 ening principle. Idle and heartless ceremony may 
 spring up from its decayed root, but the counter- 
 feit is ever detected. Its first effort is to subdue 
 and extirpate selfishness ; its next to acquire that 
 knowledge of human nature, which will enable it 
 wisely to regulate itself by the sympathies of those 
 around. Its last feature, reveals alliance with a 
 higher family than the graces. Forming a bright 
 link between the accomplishments and virtues, it 
 claims affinity with that heaven-born spirit which 
 on the plains of Bethlehem, breathed in melody 
 from the harps of angels, " peace on earth and 
 good will to men." 
 

 LETTER VIII. 
 
 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 
 
 That class of duties, which rest on the basis of 
 the nearest affinities, it would seem, might easily 
 be performed.^ Nature, in pouring the blood from 
 the same fountain, gives bond for their faithful 
 discharge. Those who were nurtured on the same 
 breast, and rocked in the same cradle, who side by 
 side took their first tottering steps, who together 
 shared paternal tenderness, admonition, and prayer, 
 ought to form a bond of the firmest and fondest 
 alliance. Clustered like pearls upon the same 
 thread, each should live in the reflected light and 
 beauty of the other. Twined and woven together, 
 in the very elements of their existence, the cord- 
 age should resist every shock save the stroke of 
 the spoiler. Encompassed and girded by the 
 holiest sympathies, whatever may be the pressure 
 or the enmity of the world, they should stand as 
 the Macedonian phalanx, or still more impenetra- 
 ble, as that Christian brotherhood, which is to be 
 unbroken and perfected in heaven. 
 
 But is it always thus ? The Book of Truth in- 
 forms us that a " brother offended is harder to be 
 won, than a strong city, that their contentions are 
 like the bars of a castle :" admitting that there 
 
SISTERLY VIRTUES. 121 
 
 are, even in this endeared union, possibilities of 
 discord, and capacities for estrangement. History 
 has shown us the ties of blood trampled on by am- 
 bition, but it has set its strong seal of reprobation, 
 on Cambyses, and Caracalla. 
 
 Our own observation teaches us that this sacred 
 concord is sometimes broken, and that it too often 
 fails of the entire harmony which it might exem- 
 plify. Sisterly and fraternal affection, ought to 
 involve sympathy, confidence, aid in every mo- 
 mentous crisis, and a unity which nothing can 
 sever. Why should those whom Nature has en- 
 riched with such friends, shrink from any measure 
 of the world's unkindness ? Disappointments may 
 well be borne, by spirits thus fortified. And when 
 the novelty is stripped from life, and its burdens 
 make the heart serious, what an inspiring cheer- 
 fulness enters into it, from the smile of the sister 
 who drank with us, our first cup of joy, the voice 
 of the brother, which mingled in our earliest infant 
 melodies. 
 
 Those, who are thus blessed, cannot estimate the 
 loneliness of the beings, whose childhood was be- 
 reft of such companionship, who go through life 
 pursuing coveted sympathies, and grasping shad- 
 ows — making to themselves molten images, in- 
 stead of living and legitimate comforters, perhaps, 
 rashly solacing themselves for the denial of nature, 
 by unfolding to strangers, the sorrowful secrecies 
 of a brotherless and sisterless heart. This depri- 
 vation of one of the deepest and purest sources of 
 
 11 
 
122 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 
 
 affection, should be viewed and borne as a bereave- 
 ment, intended to lead the spirit to a more ardent 
 search after heavenly consolations. 
 
 Those who have the solace of fraternal relation- 
 ship, should endeavour to appreciate the privilege, 
 and affectionately to discharge the obligations 
 which.it implies. How many forms may these 
 obligations take, in the varied intercourse of life ! 
 It was through the sisterly affection of Madame 
 Dacier, that her genius was first brought to light. 
 While employed in her childhood, at her task of 
 embroidery, her brother rendered his recitations to 
 his father, in the same room. His examinations 
 in the classicks, were close and rigid, and when she 
 saw him hesitating or confused, her sympathy was 
 awakened. She therefore prepared herself to act 
 as his prompter, and while she seemed quite en- 
 gaged in assorting her silks, or arranging their 
 shades in her tapestry, would earnestly watch his 
 progress, and as soon as he was distressed, or at a 
 loss, would suddenly look up from her needle, and 
 make answer for him. Her father thus discover- 
 ing her superior talents, was induced to give her a 
 learned education. Thus on the amiable basis of 
 love for a brother, rose the fame of the future 
 translator of Calliniachus, who for many years, by 
 her own efforts, and afterward in conjunction with 
 her husband, transfused the wealth of the Greek 
 and Roman classicks into the language and litera- 
 ture of France. 
 
 Fraternal affection is as graceful in its develop- 
 
SISTERLY VIRTUES. 123 
 
 ments to the eye of the beholder, as it is cheering 
 to the heart where it resides. There are some, 
 who though not deficient in its more important du- 
 ties, are but too regardless of those lesser demon- 
 strations of attachment, which are so soothing to 
 the susceptible heart. Every delicate attention 
 which tenderness prompts, every mark of polite- 
 ness, which refined society requires, ought to per- 
 vade the intercourse of brothers and sisters. It is 
 a mistake that good manners are to be reserved 
 for visiters, and that in the family-circle, negli- 
 gence and coarseness may be indulged with im- 
 punity. Even nature's affections may be under- 
 mined or shaken, by perseverance in an improper 
 deportment, more than by lapses into error and 
 folly. For the latter, repentance may atone — 
 while the former check the flow of the heart's 
 warm fountains, until they stagnate, or become 
 congealed. 
 
 I knew a father, himself a model of polished 
 manners, who required of his large family, to treat 
 each other at all times with the same politeness 
 that they felt was due to their most distinguished 
 friends. Rudeness, neglect, or indifference, were 
 never tolerated in their circle. Respect to each 
 other's opinion, a disposition to please and be 
 pleasing, care in dress, and courtesy of manner, 
 were not considered thrown away, if bestowed on 
 a brother, or a sister. Every one of the group 
 was instructed to bring amiable feelings, and 
 powers of entertainment, to their own fireside, 
 
124 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 
 
 The result was happy. The brothers felt it an 
 honour to wait upon their sisters, and the sisters a 
 pleasure to do all in their power, for the comfort 
 and improvement of their brothers. This daily- 
 practice of every decorum, imparted to their man- 
 ners an enduring grace, while the affections which 
 Heaven implanted, seemed to gather strength from 
 the beauty of their interchange. I would not as- 
 sert that fraternal or sisterly affection, may not be 
 deep and pervading, without such an exterior, yet 
 it is surely rendered more lovely by it ; as the 
 planets might pursue in darkness, the order of 
 their course, but it is their brilliance which reveals 
 and emb llishes it. 
 
 Every well-regulated family might be as a per- 
 petual school. The younger members, witnessing 
 the example of those, whose excellence is more 
 confirmed, will be led by the principle of imitation, 
 more effectually than by the whole force of foreign 
 precept. The custom of the older daughters, to 
 assist in the education of their less advanced sis- 
 ters, I rejoice to see, is becoming more common. 
 It cannot be too highly applauded. What should 
 prevent their assuming the systematick office of 
 instructers, when circumstances are favourable to 
 such an arrangement ? 
 
 " I cannot," says the young lady, nurtured in 
 affluence, " I cannot go forth as a teacher of stran- 
 gers. My feelings shrink from such notoriety. 
 There seems a sort of degradation in it, to which 
 I am not willing to submit. Still, I acknowledge 
 
SISTERLY VIRTUES. 125 
 
 that our sex can do great good by teaching, and I 
 have a desire to do good." 
 
 Here then is the opportunity. You need not 
 leave your home for the abode of strangers. Your 
 delicacy will not be distressed by exposure, nor 
 your pride, if you acknowledge such a guest, 
 wounded by a change of station. Here are your 
 scholars, bone of your bone, and flesh of your 
 flesh, gathered under the same shelter, seated 
 around the same board. Whatever you have to 
 teach them, impart it kindly, and diligently, in the 
 fear of the Lord. Doubt not he will give you a 
 reward, in the heightened affection of those whom 
 you serve — in the deeper root, and fairer harvest 
 of that knowledge, whose fruits you divide with 
 them. Shaking the superflux to them, you in- 
 crease your own mental wealth. If you cannot 
 assume the whole charge of their education, take 
 but a part. Labour in a single department. Hold 
 yourself responsible for their proficiency, in the 
 branch that you undertake to teach. Whatever 
 advances you have made in knowledge, you can- 
 not but be most happy to share their benefits with 
 those so dear. Consider your own education as 
 quite incomplete, until self-education is added ; 
 and there is no better mode of facilitating this, than 
 the instruction of others. It furnishes the strong- 
 est motive to fashion your own example on that 
 model of purity and excellence, which you urge 
 them to pursue. " For their sakes," said the 
 Apostle, speaking of those who had listened 
 
 11* 
 
126 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 
 
 to his instructions — "For their sokes I sanctify 
 myself." 
 
 By what method can a daughter more fully 
 evince her gratitude to her parents, than by aiding 
 their children in the search of knowledge, and of 
 goodness. How amiable, how praise-worthy, is 
 that disposition, which prompts a young and beau- 
 tiful creature to come forth as the ally of a mother, 
 in that most overwhelming of all anxieties, so to 
 train her little ones, as to form at last, an unbroken 
 family in heaven. No better apprenticeship for 
 future duty could be devised, and no firmer hos- 
 tage given to God or man, for its faithful per- 
 formance. 
 
 Permit me to point out a subordinate mode of 
 doing good, in which the young ladies of a family, 
 might happily co-operate. Fortunately, the an- 
 cient custom of receiving into the household, some 
 child of poverty, and rearing it as an assistant in 
 domestic toils, until qualified to earn a subsistence, 
 has not yet fallen into entire disuse. A strong ad- 
 ditional reason, for receiving and extending it, is 
 now found in the increasing difficulty of obtaining 
 servants. Housekeepers, who thus rescue but a 
 single being from ignorance or vice, to be trained 
 for usefulness and virtue, confer no trifling benefit 
 on the community. 
 
 In a service of this nature, mothers might safely 
 and successfully associate their daughters. Could 
 they not depute the intellectual culture of their 
 humble protege to those young instructers ? — 
 
SISTERLY VIRTUES. 127 
 
 Would it not be to them a profitable exercise ? 
 By making them in a measure accountable for the 
 intelligence, and correct deportment of their pupil, 
 would not kind and generous dispositions be cher- 
 ished on one side, and gratitude take root on the 
 other ? 
 
 Might not the young ladies of a family, in the 
 attentions bestowed on a female of this class, some- 
 times adopt as an ultimate object, the preparation 
 of an assistant to mothers, in the physical care of 
 their little children ? 
 
 It must surely be a pleasure to inculcate the 
 neatness, patience, tenderness, purity of thought, 
 and piety, which are essential to that interesting 
 and important station. Beside these requisites, 
 the young instructresses should cultivate in their 
 pupil, a taste for useful books, and improving con- 
 versation — the accomplishment of telling bible- 
 stories, and of singing soothing and simple melo- 
 dies. A class of nurses thus endowed, and pos- 
 sessing the correct deportment which accompanies 
 good sense, and good temper, would be invaluable, 
 and deserve to be treated with respect and regard, 
 by all whom they should serve. Let the young 
 ladies of our land take pains to educate such in- 
 dividuals whenever it shall be in their power. 
 They will win the warm thanks of that multitude 
 of mothers, who are often so overburdened with 
 the physical care of their offspring, as to be forced 
 to neglect their moral training, and who .continue 
 to bear this burden, from inability to find those 
 
128 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 
 
 who might divide it, without exposing the opening 
 mind to the contamination of ignorance, vulgarity, 
 or immoral example. 
 
 Those young ladies, who may be willing to add 
 to their bright class of sisterly virtues, the instruc- 
 tion of the younger members of their beloved 
 family-circle, should endeavour to teach agreeably. 
 As far as possible they should secure the affec- 
 tions of their pupils, and represent knowledge to 
 them, as another name for happiness. A sisterly 
 instructer must not rest satisfied to teach only by 
 the hearing of lessons, or the repetition of pre- 
 cepts ; but by gentle deportment, cheering smiles, 
 tender tones, and the whole armory of love. 
 
 Most of our incitements to sisterly effort, will 
 apply with peculiar force to the oldest daughter 
 of the family. The right of primogeniture, though 
 not acknowledged under our form of government, 
 still exists under certain limitations, in almost 
 every household. It does not, indeed, as in some 
 other countries, transmit a double portion of the 
 paternal inheritance, or a sounding title, or a royal 
 prerogative ; since with us, there are neither en- 
 tailed estates, nor orders of nobility, nor monar- 
 chical succession. But Nature herself, gives pre- 
 eminence to the first-born, who promotes the pa- 
 rent, at once, to the climax of enjoyment and of 
 duty, and wakes those springs of unutterable affec- 
 tion, which nothing but the ice of death can seal. 
 The voice, which first told the young man, he was 
 a father, will never be forgotten — though that 
 
SISTERLY VIRTUES. 129 
 
 voice was but the wail of the feeblest infant. The 
 little hand, whose touch first kindled in a mother's 
 heart, an emotion not to be denned by language, 
 an aspiration of ecstasy, never before breathed or 
 imagined, will be leaned on in adversity or widow- 
 hood with peculiar trust — and the balm-cup which 
 it offers, will be taken with complacency, even to 
 hoary hairs. There will often be found lingering 
 in the parental bosom, some mixture of that partial 
 tenderness, with which a dying patriarch styled 
 his first-born, notwithstanding his prominent faults, 
 the " excellency of dignity, and the excellency of 
 power." 
 
 Admitting, therefore, that priority of birth im- 
 plies some degree of precedence, not in power, or 
 wealth, but in influence over the affections of the 
 domestick circle, it should be the earnest inquiry of 
 all thus situated, how they may accomplish the 
 greatest amount of good. The station of the eld- 
 est sister, has always appeared to me, so pecu- 
 liarly important, that the privileges which it involves, 
 assume almost a sacred character. The natural 
 adjunct and ally of the mother, she comes forth 
 among the younger children, both as a monitress, 
 and an example. She readily wins their confi- 
 dence, from a conviction, that more freshly than 
 even the parent, she is " touched with the feeling 
 of their infirmities." She will sometimes be em- 
 powered to act as an ambassador to the higher 
 powers, while the indulgence that she obtains, or 
 the penalty that she mitigates, go down into the 
 
130 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 
 
 vale of years, among sweet and cherished remem- 
 brances. In proportion to her interest in their af- 
 fections, will be her power to improve their char- 
 acters, and to allure them by the bright example 
 of her own more finished excellence. Her influ- 
 ence upon brothers, is often eminently happy. Of 
 a young man, who evinced high moral principle, 
 with rich and refined sensibilities, unusually devel- 
 oped, it was once said by an admiring stranger, 
 " I will venture to predict that he had a good sis- 
 ter, and that she was older than himself." 
 
 It has been my lot, to know more than one elder 
 sister, of surpassing excellence. I have seen them 
 assuming the office of teacher, and faithfully im- 
 parting to those whose understandings were but 
 feebly enlightened, the advantages of their own 
 more complete education. I have seen them soft- 
 ening and modifying the character of brothers, 
 breathing until it melted, upon obduracy which no 
 authority could subdue. 
 
 I have seen one, in the early bloom of youth, 
 and amid the temptations of affluence, so aiding, 
 cheering and influencing a large circle of brothers 
 and sisters, that the lisping student came to her, to 
 be helped in its lesson — and the wild one from its 
 sports, brought the torn garment, trustingly, to her 
 needle — and the erring one sought her advice or 
 mediation — and the delighted infant stretched its 
 arms to hear her bird-like song — and the cheek of 
 the mother, leaning on so sweet a substitute, for- 
 got to fade. 
 
 
SISTERLY VIRTUES. 131 
 
 I knew another, on whose bosom, the head of a 
 sick brother rested, whose nursing-kindness failed 
 not, night or day, from whom the most bitter med- 
 icine was submissively taken, and who grasping 
 the thin cold hand in hers, when death came, saw 
 the last glance of the sufferer's gratitude, divided 
 between her, and the mother who bare him. 
 
 I have seen another, when the last remaining 
 parent was taken to God, come forth in her place, 
 the guide and comforter of the orphans. She be- 
 lieved that to her who was now in heaven, the most 
 acceptable mourning would be to follow her injunc- 
 tions, and to fulfil her unfinished designs. Her 
 motto was the poet's maxim : — 
 
 " He mourns the dead, who live as they desire." 
 
 As if the glance of that pure, ascended spirit was 
 constantly upon her, she entered into her unfinished 
 labours. To the poor, she was the same messen- 
 ger of mercy, she bore the same crosses with a 
 meek and patient mind. But especially to her 
 younger sisters and brothers, she poured oat, as it 
 were, the very essence of her being. She cheered 
 their sorrows, she shared and exalted their plea- 
 sures, she studied their traits of character, that she 
 might adapt the best methods both to their infirm- 
 ities and virtues. To the germ of every good 
 disposition, she was a faithful florist — to their way- 
 wardness, she opposed a mild firmness, until she 
 prevailed. 
 
 She laid the infant sister, on her own pillow, 
 
132 SISTERLY VIRTUES. 
 
 she bore it in her arms, and rejoiced in its growth, 
 and health and beauty. And when it hasted on 
 its tottering feet to her, as to a mother, for it had 
 known no other, the smile on that young brow, 
 and the tear that chastened it, were more radiant 
 than any semblance of joy, which glitters in the 
 halls of fashion. The little ones grew up around 
 her, and blessed her, and God gave her the reward 
 of her labours, in their affection and goodness. 
 Thus she walked day by day, with her eye to her 
 sainted mother, and her heart upheld by the hap- 
 piness which she diffused — and as I looked upon 
 her, I thought that she was but a " little lower 
 than the angels." 
 
LETTER IX. 
 
 BOOKS. 
 
 A taste for reading is important to all intel- 
 lectual beings. To our sex, it may be pronounced 
 peculiarly necessary. It is important to all, be- 
 cause it is the way in which aliment is conveyed 
 to the mind ; and to our sex peculiarly necessary, 
 because dwelling much on the contemplation of 
 little things, they are in danger of losing the intel- 
 lectual appetite. Their sphere of household em- 
 ployment, engrossing much attention to its cardi- 
 nal points, " what shall we eat, and wherewithal 
 be clothed," disposes the mind either to pine away 
 in the atrophy of ignorance, or to be puffed up 
 with the vanity of superficial knowledge. A taste 
 for reading is therefore to them, an armour of de- 
 fence. It is also a resource, when the world re- 
 veals its emptiness, or the things of the world con- 
 fess their inability to satisfy the heart. Men go 
 abroad into the busy current of life, and throw 
 aside their chagrins and disappointments, and lose 
 the narrowness of personal speculation, in its ever- 
 fluctuating tide. Home, the woman's province, 
 admits of less variety. She should therefore, di- 
 versify it by an acquaintance with the world of in- 
 
 12 
 
134 BOOKS. 
 
 tellect, and shed over it the freshness derived from 
 the exhaustless fountains of knowledge. She 
 should render herself an entertaining and instruct- 
 ive fireside companion, by daily replenishing her 
 treasury, with that gold which the hand of the 
 robber may not waste, nor the rust of time cor- 
 rode. The love of books is also a refuge in those 
 seasons of indisposition, when active duties are 
 laid aside, when even conversation is a burden, 
 and that gayety of heart which w T as as sunshine to 
 life's landscape, has taken its flight. In youth and 
 health, you can scarcely appreciate the truth of 
 this argument. But confirm now your taste for 
 reading into a habit, and when the evil days come, 
 you will be better able to prove its value, than I 
 am to enforce it. 
 
 Devote even the fragments of your leisure to 
 some useful book. Pliny employed a person to 
 be always reading to him, as he rode from place 
 to place, in his sedan. He made extracts, even 
 from common works, for he said, " there is no 
 book so poor, as not to afford something valuable." 
 The great Roman orator, Cicero, read with a pen 
 in his hand, ever making comments. " Secure 
 the interstices of your time," says the celebrated 
 Robert Hall, " and you wall be astonished to find 
 how much reading you will get through in a year." 
 Yet I trust that you will not be contented to leave 
 a pursuit of such magnitude, to casual and inter- 
 rupted portions of time. I hope to persuade you 
 to establish a systematick course of reading. A 
 
BOOKS. 135 
 
 statesman of Queen Elizabeth, who was well ac- 
 quainted with her habits, said in the quaint lan- 
 guage of those times : " That great princess used 
 to the very last year of her life, to appoint set 
 hours for reading, scarcely any young student of 
 any university, more daily, or more duly." Set 
 apart a stated period of each day for this employ- 
 ment. Have it understood, that it is not to be dis- 
 pensed with, except from imperative necessity. 
 Do not dismiss your habits of study, when you 
 cease to attend school. That crisis is often a haz- 
 ardous one, in the history of a young lady. If she 
 has gained distinction there, without a radical love 
 of knowledge, her improvement ceases with the 
 excitement that sustained it. If a latent fondness 
 for expensive dress and fashionable amusements 
 was cherished in her period of classical education, 
 she will rush into them with an eagerness propor- 
 tioned to her previous restraint. Satisfied with 
 past honours, and believing that she " has already 
 attained, and is already perfect," she slumbers at 
 her post, and in a few years, perceives those out- 
 stripping her, whose talents she once held in con- 
 tempt. Every young lady who, at leaving school, 
 entertains a clear and comfortable conviction that 
 she has finished her education, should recollect 
 the reproof of the excellent Dr. Rush to a young 
 physician, who spoke of the time when he finished 
 his studies : " When you finished your studies ! 
 Why, you must be a happy man to have finished 
 so young. I do not expect to finish mine as long 
 
136 BOOKS. 
 
 as I live." Life is but one great school, and we 
 are all pupils, differing in growth and progress ; 
 but all subjects of discipline, all invested with the 
 proud privilege of acquiring knowledge, as long as 
 the mind retains its powers. There is an affect- 
 ing lesson in the death of that philosopher, who, 
 after it was supposed that breath had forsaken him, 
 faintly raised his head to listen to some improving 
 conversation that was conducted in his chamber, 
 and even drew the curtain, saying, "I shall be 
 most happy to die, learning something." 
 
 But while the value of knowledge renders a 
 taste for reading so important, the choice of books 
 is equally so. They produce the same effect on 
 the mind, that diet does on the body. They may 
 either impart no salutary nutriment, or convey 
 that which is pernicious. Miscellaneous reading 
 has become so fashionable, and its materials so 
 multifarious, that it is difficult to know how to se- 
 lect, or where to fix a limit. May we not say, 
 with my Lord Bacon, " there seemeth to be a su- 
 perfluity of books. But shall no more be made ? 
 Yea ! make more good books, which, like the rod of 
 Moses, may devour the serpents of the enchanters." 
 Works of imagination usually predominate in 
 the libraries of young ladies. To condemn them 
 in a mass, as has been sometimes done, is hardly 
 just. Some of them are the productions of the 
 finest minds, and abound with the purest senti- 
 ments. Yet, discrimination, with regard to them, 
 is exceedingly important, and such discrimination 
 
BOOKS. 137 
 
 as a novice cannot exercise. The young should 
 therefore ask guidance of an experienced and cul- 
 tivated mind, and devote to this class of reading, 
 only a moderate portion of time, as to a recreation. 
 Frequent and long indulgence in it, creates disgust 
 at the patient acquisition of solid learning, as com- 
 pound and poignant dishes destroy a relish for 
 plain and healthful food. It forms habits of de- 
 sultory thought, and uproots mental discipline. It 
 makes it an object not to read and remember, but 
 to read and be amused. So the fanciful palate is 
 pleased, and the imagination pampered, while the 
 hungering judgment, to borrow Cowper's simile, 
 " looks up, and is not fed." 
 
 Among works of this description, those which 
 are denominated novels of deep and stirring inter- 
 est, are calculated to heighten in the young mind 
 those powers which need no excitement. In the 
 language of Mrs. Hannah More : — 
 
 " They add fresh strength, to what before was strong." 
 
 Habits of excursive fancy, and illusive views of 
 life, are not salutary in their influence on those 
 whose business it is to reason, and to act ; to bear, 
 and to forbear. If such works ever exercise a 
 beneficial tendency, it must be in the season of 
 age, when torpor is stealing over the faculties, 
 when the feelings need quickening by touching 
 the nerve of early and tender association, and 
 memory would sink into lethargy were she not 
 awakened by the heart. They can no longer mis- 
 
 12* 
 
138 BOOKS. 
 
 lead the traveller when his journey is accomplish- 
 ed. He can compare their highly coloured deline- 
 ations with the sober truth of life's " twice told 
 tale," and be safely entertained. Yet there is no 
 need for the young to exhaust the cordials of age. 
 It is wiser to be busied in furnishing a full store- 
 house for that approaching winter, when the errors 
 of seedtime cannot be corrected, nor the sloth of 
 harvest repaired, when the mind in its weariness, 
 is too feeble to dig, and in its poverty, to " beg 
 will be ashamed." 
 
 History has ever been warmly commended to 
 the attention of the young. It imparts knowledge 
 of human nature, and supplies lofty subjects for 
 contemplation. It should be read with constant 
 reference to geography and chronology. A fine 
 writer has called these " the eyes of history." 
 They are also the grappling irons by which it ad- 
 heres to memory. As some historians are defi- 
 cient in dates, or not lucid in their arrangement, a 
 table of chronology, and an atlas, ancient and mod- 
 ern, should be the inseparable companions of all 
 books of history, which are to be studied with 
 profit. It is a good practice to fix in the memory 
 some important eras — the subversion of an empire, 
 for instance — and then ascertain what events were 
 taking place in all other nations, at the same period 
 of time. A few of these parallels, running through 
 the History of the World, will collect rich clusters 
 of knowledge, and arrange them in the conserva- 
 tory of the mind. 
 
BOOKS. 139 
 
 History is replete with moral lessons. The in- 
 stability of human power, the tyranny of man over 
 his brother, and the painful truth that the great are 
 not always the good, mark almost every feature of 
 its annals. 
 
 Read History with candour and independence of 
 mind. The opinions of the historian should be 
 examined, and the gilding stripped from false 
 glory. The admiration so profusely bestowed on 
 warriors and conquerors, should be analyzed. And 
 if conquerors are discovered to have wrought more 
 evil than good, to have polluted the fountains of 
 peace and liberty, and to have wantonly shed blood 
 and caused misery for their own aggrandizement, 
 let the sentence upon their deeds be given in 
 equity, though the heathen world counted them 
 as gods, and Christendom blindly sanctioned the 
 homage. 
 
 Next in intellectual interest to History, and su- 
 perior to it in its influence upon the heart, is the 
 study of Biography. If, according to Livy, " the 
 mind, in contemplating antiquity, itself becomes 
 antique," — the study of pure and elevated charac- 
 ters, will have a tendency to impart to the student 
 some degree of similarity. Through this familiar 
 intercourse with the wise and good, we forget the 
 difference of rank, and the distance upon earth's 
 surface that divided us. We almost listen to their 
 voices, and number them among our household 
 friends. We see the methods by which they be- 
 came distinguished, the labours by which their emi- 
 
140 BOOKS. 
 
 nence was purchased, the piety that rendered them 
 beloved, and our desire of imitation is awakened. 
 As by our chosen associates, the character is mod- 
 ified, so the heart exhibits some transcript of the 
 models kept most constantly in its view. 
 
 The poets will naturally be favourites, in the 
 library of an educated young lady. They refine 
 sensibility, and convey instruction. They are the 
 friends of nature and knowledge, and quicken in 
 the heart, a taste for both. " The song of the 
 Muse, allureth to the land of learning," says a 
 quaint yet shrewd writer. " The poet," saith Sir 
 Philip Sydney, " doth at the very first, give you a 
 cluster of grapes, that full of their taste, you may 
 long to pass further. This world is a brazen 
 world — the poets alone deliver a golden one, which 
 whoever dislikes, the fault is in their judgment, and 
 not in the sweet food of sweetly -uttered know- 
 ledge." 
 
 Your course of reading, should also comprise 
 the annals of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture. 
 Perhaps, human genius has never displayed itself 
 more gloriously than in these departments. To 
 throw life into inanimate canvass — to make dull 
 marble breathe — indicate as much of creative 
 power, as may be deputed to man. The efforts of 
 the Grecian chisel have been the world's admira- 
 tion for two thousand years. And though the 
 colours of that pencil have faded, the names of those 
 painters still survive in the freshness of immortal- 
 ity. Upon the revival of letters, genius would not 
 
BOOKS. 141 
 
 long be withheld from her favourite occupations. 
 Michael Angelo seized with unfaltering hand the 
 chisel of Phidias. Raphael and Titian, Correggio 
 and Guido, successively emulated, in their radiant 
 traces and fine conceptions, their elder brethren of 
 the Grecian school. Architecture, in its various 
 orders, and grades of proportion and symmetry, is 
 worthy of attention. It is true, that the Fine Arts 
 are not indigenous to our infant country. But her 
 cradle-reachings have been after them, and she has 
 surely wielded the pencil with no feeble hand. 
 The destiny of an educated woman may perhaps 
 lead her to the older continent — or before the 
 bright eyes that explore these pages are dim 
 with age, our native artists, or our increasing mu- 
 nificence, may furnish the means of viewing and 
 admiring at home, those monuments of taste, 
 which mingle with the glory of Europe. 
 
 Mental Philosophy claims a high rank among 
 the studies of youth. It promotes self-knowledge, 
 one of the direct avenues to wisdom. If the map 
 of man be interesting, though darkened with 
 crimes, and stained with blood, how much more, 
 the peaceful map of the mind, that " mind, which 
 is the standard of the man." — " Ye admire," says 
 an ancient philosopher, " the Georgicks of Virgil, 
 why slight ye the georgicks of the mind, which 
 treat of the husbandry and tillage thereof?" 
 
 I am persuaded that you would find Logick a 
 subject of sufficient interest to enter into your 
 course of reading. The art of thinking, so im- 
 
142 BOOKS 
 
 portant to all who have the power of thought, is 
 possibly too little studied by our sex. Our in- 
 verted mode of reasoning, and the slight structure 
 of our arguments, often expose us to the criticism 
 even of school-boys. A science, which, according 
 to the concise definition of Watts, " teaches to use 
 reason well, in inquiries after truth," is an impor- 
 tant aid in the acquisition of all other sciences. 
 
 Ethicks and sacred literature, will undoubtedly 
 occupy a prominent place in your system. These 
 embrace a wide range, and comprehend some of 
 the most gifted minds, of which our world can 
 boast. Books for perusal on the Sabbath, should 
 ever partake of the character of that consecrated 
 day. The command, to rescue a seventh part of 
 our time from the vanities of life, and select such 
 topicks of meditation and discourse, as serve to pre- 
 pare for a higher and purer state of existence, is 
 indeed a great privilege. I pray you to regard it 
 as such, and to improve it faithfully. It will break 
 in upon the follies of the week, and form link after 
 link of that golden chain, which binds the heart to 
 heaven. 
 
 The author of the excellent lecture on the 
 " Temporal Benefits of the Sabbath," remarks : 
 " Almost every one knows the effect of a journey 
 on the views that we habitually take of our busi- 
 ness. We look back from a distance, and find 
 that to some things we had given far too large a 
 place in our thoughts, and in our hearts. We cor- 
 rect our false estimates, and return to our posts 
 
 
BOOKS. 143 
 
 with rectified judgment, as well as renovated 
 health. The Sabbath has a similar effect in clear- 
 ing away the mists that blind our judgment, and 
 we shall never know in this world, from how many 
 foolish and ruinous plans we have escaped through 
 its influence. The current of earthly schemes and 
 cares must be checked, the chain of worldly asso- 
 ciations broken, or as to intellectual benefits, the 
 Sabbath comes and goes in vain. The power to 
 check this current, to break this chain, belongs 
 chiefly to the sublime and momentous concerns of 
 eternity. They disenchant the heart, as nothing 
 else can, of the spirit of gain and ambition. They 
 drive the ' strong man armed ' from his castle, and 
 give the imprisoned mind, a temporary respite." 
 
 Let the Scriptures form a part of the study of 
 every day. Read a stated portion in the morning, 
 with the aid of some commentary, and let its spirit 
 go with you as a guide and a counsellor. Never 
 read the book of Heaven in haste, or as a task, 
 with a wandering intellect, or without subsequent 
 meditation. 
 
 All systematick reading should be with a fixed 
 purpose to remember and to profit. Cultivate the 
 retentive power, by daily and persevering exercise. 
 If any one complains that she has a weak memory 
 it is her own fault. She does not take due pains 
 to give it strength. Does she forget the period 
 for meals, the season for repose ? Does she for- 
 get the appointed hour for the evening party, or 
 to furnish herself with a fitting dress in which to 
 
144 BOOKS. 
 
 appear there ? Does she forget the plot of the last 
 romance, or the notes of a fashionable piece of 
 musick ? Yet some of these involve detail, and 
 require application. 
 
 Why then might not the same mind contain a 
 few historical facts, with their correlative dates ? 
 Frankly, because it does not feel the same inter- 
 est, nor put forth the same effort. Some, who are 
 not willing entirely to forget what they read, con- 
 tent themselves with making extracts from the 
 books that pass through their hands. But this is 
 not a successful mode of impressing their con- 
 tents. To form a written memory is like " ma- 
 king to ourselves a graven image," and suffering the 
 spiritual essence to escape. All reliance on mem- 
 oranda is a false indulgence to memory. It is 
 keeping her in leading-strings, when she should 
 walk erect, like a labourer to the field. It would 
 seem that she shared in the indolence of our com- 
 mon nature, and would willingly accept of any 
 substitute, that would relieve her from responsibil- 
 ity. But so important are her functions to the 
 welfare of the immortal mind, that she should feel 
 it her duty to be as sleepless as the Roman senti- 
 nel, and be made to answer for her sin, if the idea 
 committed to her custody escape. 
 
 I am inclined to think memory capable of indef- 
 inite improvement, by a judicious and persevering 
 regimen. Read, therefore, what you desire to re- 
 member, with concentrated and undivided atten- 
 tion. Close the book, and reflect. Undigested 
 
BOOKS. 145 
 
 food throws the whole frame into a ferment. 
 Were we as well acquainted with our intellectual, 
 as with our physical structure, we should see un- 
 digested knowledge producing equal disorder in 
 the mind. 
 
 To strengthen the memory, the best course is 
 not to commit page after page verbatim, but to 
 give the substance of the author, correctly and 
 clearly in your own language. Thus the under- 
 standing and memory are exercised at the same 
 time, and the prosperity of the mind is not so 
 much advanced, by the undue prominence of any 
 one faculty, as by the true balance, and vigorous 
 action of all. Memory and understanding are also 
 fast friends, and the light which one gains will be 
 reflected upon the other. 
 
 Use judgment in selecting from the mass of 
 what you read the parts which it will be useful 
 or desirable to remember. Separate and arrange 
 them, and give them in charge to memory. Tell 
 her it is her duty to keep them, and to bring them 
 forth when you require. She has the capacities 
 of a faithful servant, and possibly the dispositions 
 of an idle one. But you have the power of enfor- 
 cing obedience, and of overcoming her infirmities. 
 At the close of each day, let her come before you, 
 as Ruth came to Naomi, and " beat out that 
 which she has gleaned." Let her winnow repeat- 
 edly, what she has brought from the field, and 
 " gather the wheat into the garner," ere she goes 
 to repose. 
 
 13 
 
146 BOOKS. 
 
 This process, so far from being laborious, is one 
 of the most delightful that can be imagined. To 
 condense, is perhaps the only difficult part of it ; 
 for the casket of memory, though elastic, has 
 bounds, and if surcharged with trifles, the weigh- 
 tier matters will find no fitting place. 
 
 While Memory is in this course of training, it 
 would be desirable to read no books whose con- 
 tents are not worth her care : for if she finds her- 
 self called only occasionally, she may take airs, 
 like a fro ward child, and not come, when she is 
 called. Make her feel it as a duty, to stand with 
 her tablet ready, whenever you open a book, and 
 then show her sufficient respect, not to summon 
 her to any book unworthy of her. 
 
 To facilitate the management of Memory, it is 
 well to keep in view, that her office is threefold. 
 Her first effort is to receive knowledge ; her sec- 
 ond, to retain it ; her last, to bring it forth, when 
 it is needed. The first act is solitary, the silence 
 of fixed attention. The next is also sacred to her- 
 self and her ruling power, and consists in frequent, 
 thorough examination of the state and order of the 
 things committed to her. The third act is social, 
 rendering her treasures available to the good of 
 others. Daily intercourse with a cultivated mind, 
 is the best method to rivet, refine and polish the 
 hoarded gems of knowledge. Conversation with 
 intelligent men, is eminently serviceable. For 
 after all our exultation on the advancing state of 
 female education, with the other sex will be found 
 
BOOKS. 147 
 
 the wealth of classical knowledge and profound 
 wisdom. If you have a parent, or older friend, 
 w r ho will at the close of each day kindly listen to 
 what you have read, and help to fix in your mem- 
 ory, the portions most worthy of regard, count it 
 a privilege of no common value, and embrace it 
 with sincere gratitude. 
 
 Weekly societies, organized on the plan of re- 
 capitulation, render very important assistance to 
 those who are earnestly engaged in a coarse of 
 History. They should comprise but few mem- 
 bers, and those of somewhat congenial taste and 
 feeling, that no cause of restraint or reserve may 
 impede the free action of the mind. Three or four 
 young ladies, with one or two older ones, will be 
 found an agreeable and profitable number. Let 
 the system to be pursued, and the authors to be 
 studied, be a subject of mutual arrangement, and 
 at the stated meeting, let each compress the sub- 
 stance of what she has read during the week, 
 relate the principal events with their chronology, 
 and as far as possible mention what was taking 
 place at the same period of time, in the annals of 
 other nations. Opinions dissenting from those of 
 the historian should be freely given, with the rea- 
 sons for such variation, and the discussions which 
 arise, will both serve to fix knowledge firmly in the 
 memory, and aid in forming a correct judgment 
 of the character and deeds of those, whom History 
 has embalmed. If to read, each of the same era 
 or people, produces monotony, the history of dif- 
 
148 BOOKS. 
 
 ferent nations may be studied, or one can pursue 
 a course of biography, another of mental philoso- 
 phy, the natural sciences, or theology, and thus 
 vary the mental banquet. From this partnership 
 in knowledge, great increase of intellectual wealth 
 will be derived, while your subjects of thought and 
 conversation will be perceptibly elevated. " The 
 elevation of the mind" says Burke, " ought to be 
 the principle end of all our studies : which, if they 
 do not in some measure effect, they are of very 
 little service to us." 
 
 Books, as a species of property, seem to be often 
 incorrectly estimated. They are borrowed and 
 injured without compunction, borrowed and not 
 returned, and still the conscience is at rest. The 
 owner may sustain inconvenience by waiting, or 
 damage by loss, but the depredator is unmoved. 
 If a young lady borrows a shawl or an umbrella in 
 a shower, she returns them without injury ; if she 
 takes the loan of a dollar from her friend's purse, 
 she repays it promptly. But a book from her 
 library, she may be months in reading, or in not 
 reading ; may abuse and see abused, or not restore 
 at all, unless the owner take the trouble to claim 
 it. Why are the treasures of Genius, less regarded 
 than the silkworm's web ? and why is it dishonest 
 to steal a dollar, and honest to detain, deface, or 
 destroy a book worth twice that sum ? 
 
 I have known a kind-hearted owner of books, 
 who prized literary property as it ought to be 
 prized, persist in lending to careless persons, who 
 
BOOKS. 149 
 
 continued tenaciously to retain possession, till at 
 length she would be forced to go and " gather to- 
 gether her dispersed, that were scattered abroad." 
 To collect and identify them was no slight labour, 
 but patiently would she search book-shelf, sofa and 
 work-basket, and return loaded with her recovered 
 treasures, like a shepherd bringing stray sheep 
 from the wilderness. 
 
 I would have books treated with reverence. I 
 cannot bear to see even a child spoil the spelling- 
 book from which it has learned the alphabet. It 
 savours of ingratitude to a benefactor. Were the 
 books of children composed of better materials, 
 and executed in a more tasteful style, the habit of 
 preserving them would doubtless be earlier and 
 more faithfully inculcated. A sort of sacredness 
 seems to attach itself even to the page, on which 
 knowledge has impressed its lineaments, and the 
 cover which protects it from defilement, and from 
 the atmosphere. " Every child," says Dr. Dwight, 
 in his theology, " should be taught to pay all his 
 debts, and to fulfil all his contracts, exactly in the 
 manner, completely in the value, punctually at 
 the time. Every thing which he has borrowed, 
 he should be obliged to return, uninjured, at the 
 time specified, and every thing belonging to others, 
 which he has lost, he should be required to re- 
 place." Would that this excellent principle were 
 wrought in with the basis of female education. 
 
 And now, dear young ladies, let me release you 
 from this long dissertation upon books, after I have 
 
 13* 
 
1 50 BOOKS. 
 
 commended them to your intimacy as friends, 
 safe, accessible, instructive, never encroaching, and 
 never offended at the neglect of any point of eti- 
 quette. Can this be said of all your associates 1 
 
 When intercourse with the living becomes irk- 
 some, or insipid, summon to your side the departed 
 spirits of the mighty dead. Would you think it 
 an honour to be introduced into the presence of 
 princes and prelates, or to listen to the voice of 
 Plato or Socrates ? Close the door of your read- 
 ing-room, and they congregate around you. Yea, 
 a Greater than Socrates will be there, if you pon- 
 der his words, with an humble and teachable soul. 
 If trifles have disturbed you during the day, sages 
 will admonish you of the serenity and dignity 
 which ought to characterize the immortal mind. 
 
 Has ambition deluded you ? the fallen monarch 
 will show you the vanity of adulation, and the hol- 
 lowness of all human glory. Are you out of spir- 
 its ? the melody of the poet shall sooth you, and 
 do for you, what the harp of David did for the 
 moodiness of Saul. Has friendship grieved you ? 
 They offer you consolation, on whose virtues 
 Death has stamped the seal, never to change. 
 Make friendship with the illustrious dead. Your 
 slightest wish, as a talisman, will gather from dis- 
 tant climes, and remote ages, those who can sat- 
 isfy the thirst of the mind, from the deepest foun- 
 tains of knowledge. 
 
 One volume there is, whose spirit can heal the 
 wounded heart. When it sorrows for its own in- 
 
BOOKS. 151 
 
 firmities, and for the unsatisfying nature of earth's 
 vaunted pleasures, the voice of prophets and 
 apostles, lifted up from its inspired pages, teaches 
 the way to that world " where is fulness of joy, 
 and pleasures for evermore." 
 
 Let me close in the eloquent words of the author 
 of " Lectures to Young Men." " This book, the 
 eldest surviving offspring of the human intellect, 
 the chosen companion of patriarchs, prophets, 
 apostles, and of all the wisest and best men who 
 have ever lived ; this book that reveals to us the 
 character and will of our great Creator, and final 
 Judge ; that opens for us the way of salvation 
 through a Redeemer ; unveils to our view the in- 
 visible world, and shows us the final destiny of 
 our race ; this book which God has given, ex- 
 pressly to teach us our character, our duty, and 
 our prospects, which has conducted to heaven all 
 who have reached that happy world, and must 
 conduct us thither, if ever we attain to its blessed- 
 ness ; this book ought surely to be held by us, in 
 the highest place of respect and honour, to be made 
 the guide of our youth, the companion of our age, 
 our solace and support in all the prosperous or 
 trying passages of life." 
 
LETTER X. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 So sweet is the idea of friendship, that its name 
 is one of the earliest upon our lips, and the latest 
 to linger there. The child, in its migration from 
 nursery to school, selects a favourite playmate, and 
 in bestowing its simple gifts and caresses, nurses 
 the latent capacities of friendship. " This is my 
 friend" says the young lady, who during the 
 progress of her education, presents ardently and 
 proudly to her parents, what she conceives to be a 
 kindred spirit. " My friends are gone" mourn- 
 fully exclaims the hoary man, while the conscious- 
 ness that he must " finish his journey alone," deep- 
 ens the acquiescence, with which he lies down in 
 the grave. 
 
 But the name of friendship is more common than 
 the reality. Many who are familiar with its terms, 
 have never fathomed its depth, or tasted its purity. 
 They may have learned to describe or compute 
 the "unrusting gold," without the power to acquire 
 or to retain it. In this respect, as well as in a far 
 higher sense, " not every one, that saith Lord, 
 Lord, shall enter into the kingdom." 
 
 A rare combination of virtues, is requisite to 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 153 
 
 friendship. A generous, disinterested, affectionate 
 spirit, elevation of character, and firmness of prin- 
 ciple, are among its essential elements. It is no 
 wonder that the plant is not of more frequent 
 growth. 
 
 I hope that each one for whom I write, may be 
 capable of a deep and enduring friendship, for one 
 of her own sex. I do not of course, refer to that 
 gregarious principle, which prompts to promiscu- 
 ous associations, or multiplies hasty and change- 
 ful intimacies. This is sufficiently prominent in 
 the susceptible season of youth, and sometimes 
 leads to errors which it is difficult to rectify, or 
 produces results, which are to be repented of. 
 The qualities that constitute a good friend, reflect 
 lustre on human nature. 
 
 It was numbered among the excellences of the 
 Rev. Charles Wesley, that he was formed for 
 friendship. " His cheerfulness and vivacity, ever 
 refreshed the heart of his friend : with attentive 
 consideration he would enter into, and settle all 
 his concerns, as far as he was able — would do any 
 thing for his good, either great or small, and by a 
 habit of openness and freedom, leave no room for 
 misunderstanding." Whenever these lineaments 
 of character are brought into reciprocal action, they 
 produce that high and hallowed intercourse, which 
 makes mutual dependance a blessing. The 
 friendship, which I hope each of you may be able 
 to attain and exemplify, comprises sympathy in 
 sorrow, counsel in doubt, encouragement in virtue, 
 
154 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 that blending of the strength of two spirits, which 
 nothing but death can part, and which cemented by 
 piety, looks to a consummation in that purer clime, 
 where " affection's cup hath lost the taste of tears." 
 
 If you seek permanent friendship, look to the basis 
 on which it is erected. The first native material 
 for the hand of the architect, seems to be conge- 
 niality of taste, pursuit, or principle. That opin- 
 ions should always harmonize, is not necessary. 
 This would fetter originality of thought and abridge 
 freedom of intercourse. It would involve too fre- 
 quent sacrifices of the prerogative of judgment, 
 and affect independence of sentiment. Still that 
 degree of similarity in mental structure is desir- 
 able, which prevents frequent discords, and does 
 not leave the feelings in opposite zones. 
 
 Friendships founded in fondness for fashionable 
 amusements, must be fluctuating. Their texture 
 is like the wing of the butterfly. They are in- 
 capable of forming a chain for the heart. Those 
 intimacies which spring up from community in 
 prejudice, are perverted at the root, and will 
 scarcely be more stable than the passions or en- 
 mities which gave them birth. Partaking of an 
 unwholesome nutriment, their fruits will be bitter, 
 and their influence on the heart, baleful. " The 
 friendships of youth," said a severe moralist, " are 
 but too often combinations for vice, or leagues in 
 pleasure." We trust that the epithet often is mis- 
 applied. At least, the name of friendship ought 
 not to be coupled with such definitions. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 155 
 
 Reciprocity of intellectual taste, gives a genial 
 soil for friendship. Hence, it so frequently takes 
 root, during the progress of education. The fruits 
 of knowledge are easily engrafted upon so gener- 
 ous a stock. The interwoven tendrils and bud- 
 dings of genius, communicate a strength and fra- 
 grance, peculiar to themselves. " That perfect 
 unity of feeling," says D'Israeli, " which makes 
 of two individuals, one being, was well displayed 
 in the memorable friendship of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, whose labours were so combined that no 
 critic can detect the mingled production of either, 
 and whose lives were so closely united, that no 
 biographer can compose the memoirs of one, with- 
 out running into those of the other." 
 
 Love of literature is an affinity of no common 
 fervour, and if undisturbed by competition, ripens 
 into a peculiar and almost ethereal tenderness. 
 The friendship of Petrarch and Boccacio had this 
 basis. When the former passed through Florence, 
 in 1350, he was full of curiosity to see the man, 
 whose premature powers had excited the astonish- 
 ment of Italy, and who at seven years old, ere he 
 was capable of defining poetry, had composed it. 
 But he found him engaged in trifling and desultory 
 efforts, unworthy of his genius. Petrarch, then at 
 the height of his reputation, having received the 
 crown, and that enthusiastic idolatry, with which 
 his countrymen fostered literary ambition, con- 
 ceived a friendship, both honourable to himself and 
 beneficial to its object. Its first effort was like 
 
156 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 that of Socrates for Alcibiades. By decided ad- 
 monitions, he roused him to more severe labours, 
 and exalted pursuits. Boccacio, yielding to this 
 influence, awoke as to a new being. By applica- 
 tion, he sought for some portion of that learning 
 and classick elegance of style, which distinguished 
 his disinterested adviser. Starting forth from in- 
 dolent repose, he became active for the welfare of 
 his country, he took part in the various embassies, 
 he laboured to promote the happiness of the peo- 
 ple, to diminish the prevalent errors of the great, 
 and to advance the diffusion of knowledge. 
 
 Petrarch rejoiced in the quickening and almost 
 transforming power of his friendship. Its first 
 office had been to elevate character. Its second, 
 was equally ennobling, to sustain under poverty 
 and obloquy. For both of these came upon Boc- 
 cacio. In toils for the publick good, he had ex- 
 pended his fortune, and the jealousy of little minds, 
 followed him, with its scorpion lash. At one period, 
 every friend forsook him. Petrarch alone re- 
 mained immoveable. " Come to me," he said ; 
 " my purse and my home, like my heart, are 
 yours." But the delicacy of Boccacio, shrank 
 from dependance, even upon the most generous of 
 friends. Retiring to his little cottage in Certaldo, 
 he wished to bury himself in hermit contempla- 
 tions. Thither disease followed him, so that to 
 read, to write, or to think, became a burden. But 
 the remembrance of the friendship of Petrarch was 
 a balm, when the essence of life seemed exhaling. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 157 
 
 The slow lapse of years brought him health. By 
 the urgency of the Florentines, he was again in- 
 duced to assume the duties of a professorship. 
 There he lectured for a year with his accustomed 
 eloquence. Then, tidings of the death of Petrarch 
 fell like a blight upon him. The only being who 
 had inspirited him to excellence was gone. The 
 last link of a most generous friendship, had van- 
 ished. It was a shock, he had not vigour to sus- 
 tain. Henceforth, the world to him, was a desert. 
 His bereaved sensibilities fed on the springs of life, 
 and he soon followed to the grave the only friend 
 whose affection had never swerved. 
 
 Similar, though still more tragick, was the grief 
 of the poet and historian, Politiano, for the loss of 
 his illustrious friend, Lorenzo de Medici. After 
 the decease of his patron, his genius drooped, and 
 his literary ambition languished. The image of 
 him, who had fostered his talents, and listened 
 with delight to his verses, seemed present with 
 him, but to deepen his melancholy. The misfor- 
 tunes that befell the Medicean family, he deplored 
 as his own. It was in 1494, while fitting some 
 elegiack stanzas which he had composed on the 
 memory of his beloved friend Lorenzo, to the harp, 
 that his eyes dim with tears, deceived him, and fal- 
 ling from the head of a flight of stairs, he expired. 
 
 There is a sentiment of friendship for the illus- 
 trious dead, to which refined minds are susceptible. 
 Towards those, whose pages have imparted to us 
 knowledge and delight, we turn in moments of 
 
158 
 
 FRIENDSHIP 
 
 solitude with sacred and tender regard. We al- 
 most imagine them to be standing by our side, and 
 hearkening to our gratitude. They have left us 
 an inalienable bequest, a " treasure that waxeth 
 not old." We commune with them as benefactors, 
 we rejoice in the " sad but exalting relationship to 
 the great minds that have passed away, and ex- 
 plore an unbounded range of noble scenes, in the 
 overawing company of departed genius and wis- 
 dom." 
 
 The highest sentiments and noblest pursuits of 
 our nature, should be invoked to give permanence 
 to friendship. " It is an error," says an ingenious 
 philosopher of our times, " to found attachment on 
 the lower faculties, which are unstable, instead of 
 building it on those higher sentiments which afford 
 a foundation, for real, lasting, and satisfactory 
 friendships. In complaining of the vanity and 
 vexation of intimacies, springing exclusively from 
 the lower faculties, we are like men who should 
 try to build a pyramid on its smaller end, and 
 lament the hardness of their fate, and the unkind- 
 ness of Providence when it fell." 
 
 Reciprocity of religious feeling and principle is 
 the best groundwork for enduring friendship. 
 " There is no true friendship," said St. Augustine, 
 " but that which God cements." Piety and friend- 
 ship enjoin congenial duties. One enforces the 
 extirpation of selfishness : the other requires the 
 exercise of the disinterested virtues. One de- 
 mands the charity, which " seeketh not its own, 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 159 
 
 and thinketh no evil,"— the other prompts that 
 sweet preference of another's good, which is allied 
 alike to benevolence and humility. 
 
 The inimitable portrait of friendship given us in 
 the pages of Inspiration illustrates, with great 
 power, the principles of generosity and gratitude. 
 Jonathan, the heir to the throne of Israel, and 
 taught to connect all his high hopes and prospects 
 with so precious a birthright, sees in his friend, 
 the person designated to supplant him in that royal 
 dignity. The watchful eye and jealous mind of 
 Saul, is ever deepening the suggestion : " As long 
 as the son of Jesse liveth upon the earth, thou 
 shalt not be established, nor thy kingdom." But 
 the friendship which " had knit his soul to that of 
 David, so that he loved him as his own soul," 
 resists every temptation. He repels the venge- 
 ful policy of his father, relinquishes his own ag- 
 grandizement, and puts his life in peril for his 
 friend. 
 
 David, precluded by his situation, from display- 
 ing equal magnanimity, evinces a gratitude which 
 absorbs his whole soul — that gratitude which 
 dwells only with noble natures, and is the test of 
 what their generosity would have been, had 
 Heaven given them the power of conferring bene- 
 fits. His elegy on his fallen friend breathes the 
 very spirit of tenderness and sorrow. One of his 
 first inquiries, after his elevation to the throne, 
 when the wars and tumults through which he had 
 long struggled, began to subside into tranquillity, 
 
160 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 reveals the cherished warmth of grateful friend- 
 ship : " Is there any yet left of the house of Saul, 
 that I may show him kindness for Jonathan 's 
 sake r 
 
 How affecting is his tenderness to the desolate 
 and decrepit son of Jonathan, whom he sought out 
 in obscurity and want : " Fear not, I will surely 
 show thee kindness for Jonathan, thy father's 
 sake." His imperishable gratitude embraces even 
 the memory of Saul, his mortal enemy, by whom 
 he had been " hunted, as a partridge on the moun- 
 tains." He remembered only that he was the 
 father of his friend. With what reverence does 
 he speak of that unhappy monarch, and how affec- 
 tionately does he return thanks to those, who ren- 
 dered him the rites of sepulture : " Blessed be ye, 
 that ye have showed this kindness unto your lord, 
 and have buried him, and now the Lord show 
 kindness and truth unto you, and I also will re- 
 quite you, because ye have done this thing." 
 
 It would seem that the simplicity of ancient 
 times, was more favourable than our own, to the 
 developments of self-devoted friendship. The 
 history of remote ages, records instances which 
 have no modern parallel. To hazard fortune, 
 safety, or even life for a friend, was held consist- 
 ent with the obligations of that sacred preference. 
 Now, it scarcely evinces sufficient courage to de- 
 fend the chosen individual, against the aspersions 
 or ridicule of fashionable society. In searching 
 for the reasons of this difference, we perceive that 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 161 
 
 the artificial structure of society has changed the 
 requisitions of friendship and checked its vitality. 
 Promiscuous association, is adverse to its health- 
 ful growth. Its principle requires concentration. 
 If diffused over too wide a surface its essence es- 
 capes. Perhaps, it is scarcely capable of expan- 
 sion, without being exhaled. Formal and cere- 
 monious visiting, to the exclusion of that simple 
 intercourse which opens the heart, nourishes 
 habits which are inimical to friendship. She who 
 invites her " dear five hundred friends," and lav- 
 ishes much time and expense on the entertain- 
 ment, perhaps, loves not one of them in her 
 heart. Those studied courtesies, in which truth 
 has little part, tend to bewilder and break up that 
 sincerity, which is an essential element of friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Kindness, benevolence, and good manners, are 
 due to all with whom we associate. But the in- 
 timacy which leads to entire confidence, should be 
 bestowed on few, perhaps, reserved for one alone. 
 Hence, the choice of that single friend, becomes a 
 point of incalculable importance. 
 
 Friendship has been always a favourite theme 
 with the poets. Among English bards, none have 
 more minutely analyzed or dissected it, than Dr. 
 Young. Permit me here to inquire, if his " Night 
 Thoughts" have not become too entirely, and un- 
 justly obsolete, and if many a young lady might 
 not find in them, some profitable hint for serious 
 contemplation. Hear him on our chosen theme : 
 
 14* 
 
162 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Deliberate on all things, with thy friend, 
 
 But since friends grow not thick on every bough, 
 
 First, on thy friend, deliberate with thyself. 
 
 Pause, ponder, sift ; not eager in the choice, 
 
 Nor jealous of the chosen ; fixing, fix : 
 
 Judge before friendship, then confide till death." 
 
 The tendency of the younger part of our sex, to 
 form friendships, has been ridiculed as a weakness 
 by some severe critics. I consider it rather as a 
 virtue, as an indication of amiable susceptibility, 
 and a disposition to acknowledge that mutual de- 
 pendance, which is the law of our nature. Still it 
 requires more judgment than usually falls to the 
 lot of youth, to guard it from that disappointment 
 which accompanies hasty preferences, and that in- 
 constancy and danger which are created by pro- 
 miscuous and changing intimacies. Correct prin- 
 ciples, kind feelings, good sense and incorruptible 
 integrity, are the natural and safe corner-stones for 
 the temple of friendship. That there should be 
 no great dissimilarity in rank, station or education, 
 seems desirable. Where striking disparities exist, 
 the union of sentiment cannot be perfect, and situ- 
 ations may arise, in which one party, feeling in- 
 flated, and the other abased, loss of confidence will 
 be the result. 
 
 If you have been so happy as to find a friend, 
 with whom your pursuits and pleasures may be 
 shared, whose sympathy awaits your sorrows, who 
 gives strength to your good resolutions, and with 
 whom your secret thoughts are as safe as in your 
 own bosom, guard the precious treasure by every 
 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 163 
 
 demonstration of true and invariable regard. You 
 have found what the wise son of Sirach styles the 
 " medicine of life." Be grateful to the Giver of 
 all good, and be faithful to the duties that such a 
 possession devolves upon you. Since friendship 
 is a blessing from heaven, consecrate it as the 
 means of mutual preparation for admission there. 
 
 Merit confidence by frankness, at the same time, 
 that you guard with fidelity, whatever secret may 
 be intrusted to you. " Reserve wounds friend- 
 ship, and distrust destroys." 
 
 To point out to each other mutual faults and 
 imperfections, in the spirit of tenderness, and with 
 a view to improvement and elevation of character, 
 marks a high grade of attainment in the science of 
 friendship. Avoid that tendency to fickleness, and 
 alienation for slight causes, which has disturbed 
 or destroyed so many friendships. Cherish with 
 unvarying regard the friends who have proved 
 themselves faithful, and adopting the precept of 
 Hamlet, 
 
 " Grapple them to thy soul with hocks of steel." 
 
 Strive to possess yourselves of the elements of 
 a science, more sublime than love, because less 
 selfish, which is in grief a comforter, in difficult 
 duty a double strength, which has power to 
 heighten joy, to ennoble all good properties, and to 
 fit for the intercourse with pure spirits in a happier 
 clime. 
 
 Remember the fine example of Klopstock, 
 
164 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 whose confiding simplicity of character prepared 
 him to awaken regard, who was even to the chill 
 atmosphere of fourscore years, surrounded by 
 tender and warmly expressed sympathies, and of 
 whom it was beautifully said, that " all his life he 
 clung to friendship, as the child clings to the breast 
 of its mother." 
 
 
LETTER XI. 
 
 CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 Among the ingredients of happiness, few are 
 more important than a habit of cheerfulness. Its 
 lineaments are always beautiful. They have a 
 tendency to reproduce themselves. The calm 
 smile often images itself on the brow of another, 
 and the sweet tone, if it fail to call forth one equally 
 sweet, still sooths the ear and lulls the soul with 
 its melody. A melancholy countenance, and a 
 plaintive voice are contagious. " I have always," 
 said the good Vicar of Wakefield, " been an ad- 
 mirer of happy human faces." The sentiment is 
 universal. The pleasure thus derived compensates 
 for the absence of beauty, and supplies the defi- 
 ciency of symmetry and grace. 
 
 Cheerfulness is expected from the young. It is 
 the natural temperament of life's brightest season. 
 We are disappointed when we see a frown or 
 gloom upon those features, which we persuade 
 ourselves should be ever cloudless. It is as if in 
 gathering spring's early violets, we found them 
 thorny, or divested of fragrance. The open, clear 
 glance, the unsuspicious aspect, the smile hovering 
 around the lios of the gentle speaker, and interpret- 
 
166 CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 ing more perfectly than words, the harmony that 
 dwells within, are inexpressibly cheering to those 
 whom care has depressed, or age furrowed, or suf- 
 fering taught distrust. 
 
 The young, in cultivating those habits which 
 promote cheerfulness, should remember that they 
 are meeting the just demands of the community, 
 paying an appropriate rent for their lodge among 
 the flowers. That the happiness of others, may 
 be thus promoted, will be a strong motive to the 
 amiable and kind, to study those rules on which so 
 valuable a science depends. 
 
 A cheerful demeanour is particularly expected of 
 young ladies. In their case, its absence is an 
 especial fault. For if, among woman's household 
 duties, it is numbered that she makes others happy, 
 and if, in order to do this successfully, she must 
 in some degree be happy herself, cheerfulness 
 should be early confirmed into habit, and deeply 
 founded in principle. 
 
 A contented and grateful disposition is one of 
 the elements of cheerfulness. Keeping our more 
 minute blessings steadily in view, will be found a 
 salutary exercise. Little kindnesses from those 
 around us, should be reciprocated, and returned in 
 the spirit of kindness. Forgetfulness of favours, or 
 any tendency to ingratitude on our part, should be 
 guarded against as an inroad upon justice, and a 
 sure omen of incorrect and unhappy moral tenden- 
 cies. Recognition of the daily gifts of our unwea- 
 ried Benefactor, promotes cheerfulness and peace 
 
CHEERFULNESS. 167 
 
 of mind. Contrast will aid us in their estimation. 
 The pure water, which from its very abundance we 
 cease to value, would be fully appreciated by the 
 traveller parching amid African deserts, and by the 
 poor camel of the caravan. The healthful air, 
 which invigorates every nerve, and for which we 
 fail to thank God, would be hailed by the suffering 
 inmates of some crowded hospital, or the pale pris- 
 oner in his loathsome dungeon. 
 
 By remembering those whom disease has im- 
 moveably chained, or those whose eye and ear, 
 light and sound have forsaken, we better learn to 
 estimate the luxury of motion, and the value of 
 those senses 'by which we hold communion with 
 nature and with mind. The mansion that affords 
 us shelter, the food that sustains us and with whose 
 reception the beneficent Creator has connected 
 satisfaction, the apparel fashioned to the comfort of 
 the ever-varying seasons, remind many tender 
 hearts of the children of poverty, quickening both 
 liberality to them, and love to the Father of all. 
 The history of despotic governments, of the hor- 
 rors of war, and the miseries of ignorance and hea- 
 thenism, should aid in impressing a sense of our own 
 great indebtedness, and in shedding over the face 
 and demeanour the clear sunshine of cheerful grati- 
 tude. But, as it is impossible to recount those 
 mercies which are " new every morning and fresh 
 every moment," our whole existence should be per- 
 vaded by the spirit which moved the pious poet to 
 exclaim — 
 
 
168 CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 " Almighty Friend, henceforth to Thee, 
 A hymn of praise my life shall be." 
 
 The habit of discovering good qualities in others, 
 is a source of diffusible happiness. Though a 
 knowledge of human nature teaches that the best 
 characters have a mixture of infirmity ; it still ad- 
 mits that in the worst, there are some redeeming 
 virtues. The telescope that reveals the brightness 
 of the most opaque and remote planets, is more 
 valuable than the microscope that detects motes in 
 the sunbeam, and deformed insects feeding even 
 upon the rose's heart. A disposition to dwell on 
 the bright side of character, is like gold to the pos- 
 sessor. One of the principal ingredients in the 
 happiness of childhood, is freedom from suspicion, 
 and kind and loving thoughts toward all. Why- 
 might not that sweet disposition be combined with 
 a more extensive intercourse with mankind ? — A 
 habit of searching out the faults of others, like that 
 of complaining of the inconveniences of our lot, 
 grows with indulgence, and is calculated both to 
 increase evil, and to perpetuate its remembrance. 
 
 A tendency to slander, destroys innocent cheer- 
 fulness, and marks even the countenance with 
 malevolence. The satisfaction which it brings is 
 morbid, and betokens internal disease. To imagine 
 more evil than meets the eye, betrays affinity for 
 it, and to delight to deepen that which forces itself 
 on our observation, marks a fearful degree of moral 
 disease, and contributes to disseminate it. But to 
 " distil out that soul of goodness which is contained 
 
 
CHEERFULNESS. 169 
 
 in evil things," is a chymistry worthy of those 
 guardian spirits who heighten the joy of heaven, 
 when " one sinner repenteth." Strive, therefore, 
 as a means of cheerful and happy thought, to pal- 
 liate rather than to condemn frailty, and so to bring 
 into prominence the good qualities of those with 
 whom you associate, that the mind^ dwelling in an 
 atmosphere of brightness, may shed on those 
 around, a reflection of its own joy, a faint semblance 
 of that beam, which the prophet bore on his face, 
 when he descended from his mountain-converse 
 with the All-Perfect. 
 
 Cheerfulness is promoted by a consciousness of 
 being usefully employed. Active industry is fa- 
 vourable to health and elasticity of spirits. The 
 assurance that our daily pursuits advance the com- 
 fort or improvement of others, is a balsam to the 
 heart. That our time, talents, and influence, are 
 devoted to their highest and best ends, is an assu- 
 rance of inestimable value. It would seem that 
 those engaged in the different departments of edu- 
 cation, should therefore evince a sustaining princi- 
 ple of cheerfulness. To advance the intellectual 
 and moral benefit of others, is a blessed mission, 
 and should " wear its jewel" visibly. 
 
 The more instructers of youth cultivate a digni- 
 fied cheerfulness, the more they will extend and 
 deepen their influence. It might seem that to teach 
 is the natural province of our sex. And if every 
 young lady, wherever she might be situated, should 
 make it her object to impart to all those younger 
 
 15 
 
170 
 
 CHEERFULNESS 
 
 or less favoured than herself, who come in contact 
 with her, some portion of the accomplishments, the 
 knowledge, or the piety, that she possesses, the 
 sweet consciousness of not living in vain, would 
 cheer her meditations, and irradiate her counte- 
 nance and manners with the charm of benevolence. 
 Endeavour 4o preserve cheerfulness of deport- 
 ment, under the pressure of disappointment or 
 calamity. " Keep aloof from sadness," says an 
 Icelandick writer of the twelfth century, " for sad- 
 ness is a sickness of the soul." That principle is 
 weak at the root, which is unable to resist obsta- 
 cles. The vessel is but ill-constructed that cannot 
 retain its integrity against rough winds or an op- 
 posing tide. Life has many ills, but the mind that 
 views every object in its most cheering aspect, and 
 every doubtful dispensation as replete with latent 
 good, bears within itself a powerful and perpetual 
 antidote. The gloomy soul aggravates misfortune, 
 while a cheerful smile often dispels those mists 
 that portend a storm. Form a habit of being 
 cheerful uuder adverse circumstances. " Our hap- 
 piness," says a fine writer, " is a sacred deposite, 
 for which we must give account." A serene and 
 amiable temper is among its most efficient pre- 
 servatives. Admiral Collingwood, in his letters to 
 his daughters, says, " I never knew your mother to 
 utter a harsh or hasty thing to any person in my 
 life." Of Archbishop Leighton, it is related, by 
 one qualified to judge, that " during a strict intima- 
 cy of many years, he never saw him for one mo- 
 
CHEERFULNESS. 171 
 
 ment in any other temper than that in which he 
 would wish to live and to die." Though some may, 
 with more ease than others, attain equanimity of 
 character, yet the cheerfulness that surmounts care, 
 disappointment and sorrow, must be the result of 
 cultivated principle, of persevering effort, and the 
 solicited succour of the grace of God. 
 
 A good conscience is essential to consistent 
 cheerfulness. "Were thy conscience pure," says 
 the excellent Thomas a Kempis, " thou wouldest 
 be contented in every condition. Thou wouldest 
 be undisturbed by the opinions and reports of men 
 concerning thee ; — for their commendations can 
 add nothing to thy goodness, nor their censures 
 take away from it ; — what thou art, thou art : — 
 nor can the praise of the whole world make thee 
 happier or greater in the sight of God. Thou wilt 
 enjoy tranquillity, if thy heart condemn thee not. 
 Therefore, do not hope to rejoice, but when thou 
 hast done well." A decided preference of the right, 
 though the wrong^may be rendered most alluring, 
 and the conviction of having intended to do well, 
 are necessary to self-approval. Success, and the 
 applause of others, may not always bear proportion 
 to the motives that actuate us. We may be some- 
 times blamed when our designs are pure, or 
 praised when we are not conscious of deserving 
 it. Such results must indeed often happen, since 
 this is a state of probation and not of reward. The 
 true record must be kept within. Its appeal is to 
 a tribunal that cannot err. The waiting and trust- 
 
172 CHEERFULNESS. 
 
 ing spirit, may surely be cheerful. It is a weak 
 faith, that cannot look above mistake and miscon- 
 struction, up to the clear shining of the Sun of 
 righteousness. It is but a decrepit cheerfulness 
 that can walk abroad, only when the breeze is soft, 
 and the path verdant. 
 
 We are instructed to believe, that praise is the 
 spirit of heaven. Cheerfulness, and giving of 
 thanks, ought therefore to be cultivated by all who 
 have a hope of dwelling there. If we were to take 
 up our residence with distant friends, we would 
 wish to acquire some knowledge of their tastes, 
 that we might so accommodate our own, as to be- 
 come a congenial inmate. If we were to sojourn 
 in a foreign country, we would not neglect the 
 study of its language, or the means of intercourse 
 with its inhabitants. If the spirit of a clime, where 
 we hope to dwell eternally, is revealed to us, let 
 us not be indifferent to its requisitions. Let us 
 fashion the lineaments of our character, after that 
 bright and glorious pattern — that if we are so 
 happy as to obtain entrance therein, its blissful 
 inhabitants may not be to us as strangers, nor their 
 work a burden ; — but we be fitted by the serenity 
 learned on earth, to become " fellow-citizens with 
 the saints, and of the household of God." 
 
LETTER XII. 
 
 CONVERSATION. 
 
 So great a part of our time is devoted to con- 
 versation, and so much has it the power to influ- 
 ence the social feelings and relative duties, that it 
 is important to consider how it may be rendered 
 both agreeable and useful. In all countries where 
 intelligence is prized, a talent for conversation 
 ranks high among accomplishments. To clothe 
 the thoughts in clear and elegant language, and to 
 convey them impressively to the mind of another, 
 is no common attainment. 
 
 Conversation to be interesting, should be sus- 
 tained with animation. Warmth of heart must 
 put in motion the wheels of intellect. The finest 
 sentiments lose their force, if uttered with lassi- 
 tude and indifference. Still, the most fluent 
 speakers are not always the most agreeable. 
 Great rapidity of enunciation should be avoided. 
 It perplexes minds of slow comprehension, and 
 confuses those which are inured to habits of re- 
 flection. It sometimes proceeds from great quick- 
 ness of perception, and is sometimes an affectation 
 of sprightliness, but will usually be found to pro- 
 duce fatigue, rather than to give pleasure. 
 
 15* 
 
174 CONVERSATION. 
 
 A proneness to interrupt others, is still more 
 offensive than excessive volubility. Scarcely any 
 brilliance in conversation can atone for this. It is 
 an infraction of the principle of mutual exchange, 
 on which this department of social intercourse de- 
 pends. The term itself conveys an idea, if not of 
 equal rights, at least of some degree of reciprocity 
 in the privilege of receiving and imparting thought. 
 Even those who most admire the fluency of an 
 exclusive speaker, will condemn the injustice of 
 the monopoly. They will imagine that they them- 
 selves might have uttered a few good things, had 
 they been allowed an opportunity. Perhaps some 
 appropriate remark arose to their lips, but the pro- 
 per time for uttering it, was snatched away. It is 
 possible that regret for one's own lost sayings, 
 may diminish the effect of even a flood of elo- 
 quence. So that piqued self-love will be apt to 
 overpower admiration, and the elegant and inde- 
 fatigable talker be shunned, except by a few who 
 are silent from dulness, or patient listeners from 
 principle. The encounter of a number of these 
 earnest and fierce speakers, the clamour, the tireless 
 competition, the impossibility of rescuing thought 
 from the confusion of tongues, the utter frustration 
 of the legitimate design of discourse, to be under- 
 stood, would be ludicrous, were it not painfully 
 oppressive to the nerves. 
 
 Fluency in conversation must not be assumed 
 as a test of talent. Men of genius and wisdom 
 have been often found deficient in its graces. 
 
CONVERSATION. 175 
 
 Adam Smith ever retained in company the embar- 
 rassed manners of a student. Neither Buffon or 
 Rousseau carried their eloquence into society. 
 The silence of the poet Chaucer was held more 
 desirable than his speech. The conversation of 
 Goldsmith did not evince the grace and tender- 
 ness that characterize his compositions. Thom- 
 son was diffident and often uninteresting. Dante 
 was taciturn, and all the brilliance of Tasso, was 
 in his pen. Descartes seemed formed for solitude. 
 Cowley was a quiet observer, and the spirited 
 Dryden acknowledged that his " conversation was 
 slow and dull, and his humour reserved." Hogarth 
 and Swift were absent-minded, and the studious 
 Thomas Baker said that he was " fit for no com- 
 munion, save with the dead." Our own Washing- 
 ton, Hamilton and Franklin, were deficient in that 
 fluency which often fascinates a promiscuous 
 circle. 
 
 The list might easily be enlarged, but enough 
 instances have been adduced, to console those who 
 happen not to excel in this accomplishment, and to 
 assure them that if sometimes constrained to be 
 silent, they are at least kept in countenance by a 
 goodly company. 
 
 As Pythagoras imposed on those who would be 
 initiated into his philosophy, a long term of silence, 
 so they who would acquire the art of conversation, 
 should first learn to listen. To do this with an 
 appearance of unwearied attention, and as far as 
 possible with an expression of interested feeling 
 
176 
 
 CONVERSATION 
 
 on the countenance, is a species of amiable polite- 
 ness, to which all are susceptible. It is peculiarly 
 soothing to men of eminent attainments, or refined 
 sensibility, and is a kind of delicate deference, 
 which the young are bound to pay to their supe- 
 riors in age. 
 
 Another mode of imparting pleasure in conver- 
 sation, is to lead others to such subjects as are 
 most congenial to their taste, or on which they 
 possess the most extensive information. From 
 this will arise a double benefit. They will be sat 
 isfied, and you will reap the fruits of their know- 
 ledge. This was one of the modifications of be- 
 nevolence practised by the late Dr. Dwight, him- 
 self one of the most accomplished and eloquent 
 men in conversation, whom our country, or any 
 other country, has ever produced. That you may 
 observe this rule, with regularity, do not permit 
 yourself to estimate too lightly the attainments of 
 those, whom education has less favoured than your- 
 self. Among them you will often discover strong 
 common sense, an acquaintance with practical 
 things, and a sound judgment of the " plain intent 
 of life," in which minds of greater refinement may 
 be deficient. This meek search after knowledge 
 from the humblest sources, is graceful in the 
 young ; and the virtuous, however laborious may 
 be their lot, or obscure their station, are deserving 
 of such respect, and made happier by it. 
 
 The late Dr. Rush, was pronounced by a gen- 
 tleman highly endued with cultivated taste, and 
 
CONVERSATION. 177 
 
 knowledge of human nature, " one of the most 
 interesting men in conversation, that our country 
 has produced. In analyzing the secret of his 
 powers, it seemed that his art of pleasing consist- 
 ed in making others pleased with themselves. He 
 never descended to flattery. His compliments 
 came rather from an approving eye and manner, 
 than from his lips. His ready tact seemed in- 
 stinctively to discover, the subjects on which you 
 were best qualified to converse. To these sub- 
 jects, he would adroitly and pleasantly lead the 
 way. Then, as if by magic, you would find your- 
 self at home in his presence, moving freely, and 
 with exhilarated spirits in your own native ele- 
 ment ; and when you left him, you could not fail 
 to add, to other valuable acquisitions made through 
 him, an increased fund of self-respect." 
 
 Those who would please others, should never 
 talk for display. The vanity of shining in conver- 
 sation, is usually subversive of its own desires. 
 However your qualifications may transcend those 
 of the persons who surround you, it is both unwise 
 and unkind to obtrude them upon their notice, or 
 betray disregard of their opinion. It is never pol- 
 itic to humble those whom you seek to conciliate. 
 It is a good rule not to speak much of yourself, or 
 your own concerns, unless in the presence of 
 friends, who prompt these subjects, or whose ad- 
 vice you are anxious to obtain. It was among the 
 amiable traits in the character of Sir Walter Scott, 
 never voluntarily to allude to those splendid pro- 
 
178 CONVERSATION. 
 
 ductions of his genius, which were winning the 
 wonder and applause of every clime. There is a 
 politeness, almost allied to piety, in putting out of 
 view our own claims to distinction, and bringing 
 forward the excellences of others. 
 
 Perhaps, the great secret of pleasing in conver- 
 sation, is to make others pleased with themselves. 
 Any superiority, therefore, which we may chance 
 to possess, should be laid aside, as if entirely for- 
 gotten. " I never allude to my own works," said 
 Corneille, " but amuse my companions about such 
 matters as they like to hear. My talent consists 
 not in making them feel that I have any, but in 
 showing them that they have." How much more 
 amiable is such a course, than that perpetual 
 effort to dazzle, which encumbers society with 
 levity, weariness, and disappointed vanity. 
 
 But in studying to render conversation agree- 
 able, let us not forget that it should have a higher 
 object than merely the art of pleasing. It was a 
 noble rule of the celebrated Cotton Mather, 
 " never to enter any company, where it was proper 
 for him to speak, without endeavouring to be use- 
 ful in it." Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, who eminently 
 possessed the talent of conversation, and so united 
 it with an amiable disposition, that it was said of 
 her, she was never known to have uttered an un- 
 kind, or ill-natured remark, made it the means of 
 moral improvement to others, by commending in 
 their presence, some persons distinguished by the 
 particular virtue, which she desired them to imi*- 
 
CONVERSATION. 179 
 
 tate. Thus she often led to the formation of good 
 habits, and by her eloquence, reformed and ele- 
 vated the characters of those around her. 
 
 Avoid exaggeration in discourse. Those of 
 lively imaginations are very prone to this fault. 
 When the addition of a few circumstances, or the 
 colouring of a single speech, would so embellish a 
 narrative, their veracity is not proof against the 
 temptation. 
 
 Spare to use the language of flattery. Truth 
 seems to abandon the guidance of those young 
 persons, who indulge much in its dialect. Every 
 habit of hyperbolical expression, impairs confi- 
 dence. Obtain an accurate knowledge of the mean- 
 ing of words, and of the different shades of those 
 reputed synonymous. Much carelessness, and su- 
 perfluous verbiage in conversation, might be pre- 
 vented by a habit of strict definition of terms, and 
 a precise adaptation of them to the facts which 
 are stated, or the sentiments which are conveyed. 
 The study of etymology might not only be 
 brought into daily practical use by ladies, but be 
 rendered a moral benefit. Yet in these days of 
 high intellectual cultivation, in which females so 
 liberally partake, the sacrifice of veracity in com- 
 mon discourse, cannot be resolved into ignorance 
 of the import of language, so correctly as into the 
 desire of shining, or making amusement at the ex- 
 pense of higher things. " It is very difficult," 
 says the excellent Mrs. Hannah More, '" for per- 
 sons of great liveliness to restrain themselves 
 
180 CONVERSATION. 
 
 within the sober limits of strict veracity, either in 
 their assertions or narrations, especially when a 
 little undue indulgence of fancy is apt to secure 
 for them the praise of genius and spirit ; and this 
 restraint is one of the earliest principles which 
 should be worked into a youthful mind." With- 
 out sincerity, the intercourse of the lips will be but 
 " as a sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal," and 
 dear, indeed, must be that reputation for wit, which 
 is purchased by the forfeiture of integrity. 
 
 You are doubtless aware that our sex have been 
 accused of a tendency to remark with severity 
 upon the foibles of character. It has been gravely 
 asserted that we were prone to evil-speaking. Is 
 it so ? Let us candidly canvass the point. We 
 may have temptations to this vice, peculiar to our- 
 selves. We have more leisure for conversation 
 than men. Our range of subjects is more limited. 
 The multifarious pursuits of business and politics, 
 or the labours of scientific and professional studies, 
 engross their thoughts, and necessarily lead them 
 to more elevated and expansive channels. Women, 
 acting in a narrower sphere, examine with extreme 
 ardour, whatever falls under their observation, or 
 enters into competition with them. When em- 
 ployments weary, or amusements fail, character is 
 a favourite field in which to expatiate. By nature 
 they are gifted with a facility for reading its 
 idioms. But if they indulge themselves in search- 
 ing out only its weaknesses — if they form a taste 
 for hunting down its deformities, and feeding, like 
 
CONVERSATION. 181 
 
 the hyena, upon its fleshless, lifeless carcase, are 
 they not in danger of perverting the tides of be- 
 nevolent feeling, and of tinging the fountains of the 
 heart with bitterness ? 
 
 It is very difficult to ascertain whether the faults 
 of others are presented to us without exaggeration. 
 So little do human beings understand the motives 
 of others, that actions may be blamed by men, 
 which the recording angel exults, as he writes in 
 the pure record of Heaven. 
 
 Yet, if we are sure that those whom we hear 
 censured are quite as guilty as they are repre- 
 sented, is not the call on us rather for pity than 
 for punishment ? Is it not to be inferred that the 
 community will take care to visit the error with 
 its full penalty, and that it may be safe for us to 
 withhold our smiting, when so many scourges are 
 uplifted ? Perhaps, even the measure of Jewish 
 infliction, " thirty stripes, save one" may be trans- 
 cended, if we add our stroke. 
 
 Surely, no class of our fellow-creatures, are 
 more in need of pity, than those who have fallen 
 into error, and are suffering its consequences. 
 " Consider," says the excellent Caroline Fry, "the 
 dangers, the sorrows, that lie in the path of all, to 
 their eternal home — the secret pangs, the untold 
 agonies, the hidden wrongs. Thus the heart will 
 grow soft with pity towards our kind. How can 
 I tell what that censured person suffers ? That 
 fault will cost dear enough, without my aid. So, 
 you will fear, by a harsh word to add to that 
 
 16 
 
182 CONVERSATION* 
 
 which is too much already, as you would shrink 
 from putting your finger into a fresh wound." 
 
 From the danger of evil-speaking, there is for 
 you, my dear young friends, many sources of pro- 
 tection. Education has provided you with a shield 
 against this danger. The wide circle of the 
 sciences, the whole range of literature, the bound- 
 less world of books, open for you sources of con- 
 versation, as innumerable as they are sublime. 
 Subjects to which your mothers were strangers, 
 are as familiar to " your lips as household words." 
 You have no need to dissect character. You have 
 no excuse for confining your attention to the frail- 
 ties of your associates. What is it to you who 
 wears an ill-assorted riband, or a tasteless garment ; 
 or who takes the lead in fashion, to you, who can 
 solve at ease, the most intricate problem of Euclid, 
 and walk with Newton among the stars ? What 
 a paucity of judgment, what a perversion of intel- 
 lect does it discover, to cast away the treasures of 
 education, and place yourself on a level with the 
 neediest mind. It is like parting with your birth- 
 right, and not receiving even the poor payment of 
 a " mess of pottage." If there has ever been just 
 cause for this serious charge of a love of calumny 
 upon our whole sex, it behooves the young females 
 of the present generation to arise and wipe it away. 
 In those places, where danger has been discovered 
 to exist, apply the remedy. Avoid as far as pos- 
 sible, all personal conversation. But when charac- 
 ter is necessarily the subject of discussion, show 
 
CONVERSATION. 183 
 
 yourselves the gentle excusers of error, and the 
 advocates of all who need defence. It was once 
 my happiness to associate with some young people, 
 who were in love with goodness, and in fear lest 
 the habit of evil-speaking might unawares gain 
 victory over them. They said : " We will form 
 ourselves into a society against detraction. If we 
 asperse any person, or if we neglect to defend the 
 absent when they are defamed, we will pay a fine, 
 to be appropriated to the relief of the poor.''' Truly, 
 the purse for the poor flourished, and so did the 
 virtues of those lovely and kind-hearted beings. 
 The mother of one of them inquired, for she had 
 2iot heard of the existence of such a society, " What 
 is the reason that C. never joins when any one is 
 blamed, but tries so constantly to excuse all, or 
 when that is impossible, says nothing ?" A sweet 
 comment upon their institution. It so happened 
 that it was organized on the shortest day of the 
 year, and if its effects on all its members were as 
 happy, as on this individual, they will have cause 
 to remember it with gratitude to the longest day 
 of their lives. 
 
 It is not proposed that you should surrender a 
 correct judgment, or attempt to applaud the vicious. 
 Yet do not testify too much complacency in the 
 condemnation even of those who deserve it. You 
 cannot compute the strength of their temptations, 
 or be positive that you would have offered a firmer 
 resistance. Be tender of the reputation of your 
 companions. Do not suppose that by detracting 
 
184 CONVERSATION. 
 
 from their merits, you establish your own. Join 
 cheerfully in their praises, even should they be 
 called forth by qualities or accomplishments in 
 which you are deficient. Speak with severity of 
 none. The office of censor is hardly safe for those 
 who are themselves " compassed about with in- 
 firmity." — " Slander," says the excellent Saurin, 
 " is a vice which strikes a double blow, wounding 
 both him who commits, and him against whom it 
 is committed." Those who possess the deepest 
 knowledge of human nature, are the least violent 
 in blaming its frailties. Be assured that you tes- 
 tify your discrimination more by discovering the 
 good than the evil among your fellow-creatures, so 
 imperfect are even the best, so much alloy mingles 
 with earth's finest gold. 
 
 We have now inquired, with regard to conversa- 
 tion in general, how it may be rendered agreeable, 
 safe, and subservient to utility. Before we dismiss 
 the subject, let us turn our attention to that modi- 
 fication of it, which regards the intercourse of 
 young ladies, with those of their own age, among 
 the other sex. This is a point of no minor im- 
 portance. From your style of conversation and 
 manners, they are accustomed to gather their most 
 indelible impressions, not merely of talents, but of 
 those secret springs which modify feeling, and 
 character, and happiness. Their courtesy yields 
 to you the choice of subjects, and induces a general 
 acquiescence in your sentiments. But are you 
 aware that all these circumstances are scrutinized 
 
CONVERSATION. 185 
 
 freely in your absence, and that while you are 
 flattering yourself with having dexterously sus- 
 tained your part, cool criticism may be resolving 
 your wisdom into vanity, or associating your wit 
 with ill-nature ? 
 
 I would not seek to disguise the degree of in- 
 fluence, which, in the radiant morning of your days, 
 you possess over young men. It is exceedingly 
 great. I beg you to consider it in its full import, 
 in all its bearings, and to " use it like an angel." 
 
 You have it in your power to give vigour to their 
 pursuit of respectability, to fix their attention on 
 useful knowledge, to fortify their wavering opin- 
 ions, and to quicken or retard their progress in the 
 path of benevolence and piety. You have it also 
 in your power to interrupt their habits of industry 
 and application, to encourage foppishness in dress, 
 to inspire contempt of a just economy and plain ex- 
 terior, and to lead them to cultivate levity of de- 
 portment, or to seek for variety of amusements, at 
 the expense of money, which perhaps they can ill 
 afford to spend, and of time, which it is madness 
 to waste. How important, my dear young friends, 
 that the influence thus intrusted to you, be ration- 
 ally, and kindly, and religiously used. 
 
 In your conversation with young men, avoid 
 frivolity. Do not, for the sake of being called so- 
 ciable, utter sound without sense. There seems 
 implanted in some minds a singular dread of si- 
 lence. Nothing is in their opinion, so fearful as a 
 pause. It must be broken, even if the result is to 
 
 16* 
 
186 CONVERSATION. 
 
 speak foolishness. Yet to the judicious, the pause 
 would be less irksome than the folly that succeeds 
 it. Neither reserve nor pedantry, in mixed society 
 are desirable, but a preference of such subjects as 
 do not discredit the understanding and taste of an 
 educated young lady. Dress, and the various 
 claims of the candidates for the palm of beauty 
 and fashion, with the interminable gossip of re- 
 puted courtships, or incipient coquetries, are but 
 too prone to predominate. Perhaps you would 
 scarcely imagine, that by indulging much in these 
 topics, you are supposed to furnish a key to your 
 own prevailing tastes. Still less would you be 
 disposed to believe the freedom of remark to which 
 levity of deportment exposes you, even among 
 those young gentlemen who are most willing to 
 promote it. This disposition to frivolity in con- 
 versation, repeatedly occupied the elegant and re- 
 proving pen of Addison. " If," said he, " we ob- 
 serve the conduct of the fair sex, we find that they 
 choose rather to associate with persons who re- 
 semble themselves in that light and volatile hu- 
 mour which is natural to them, than with such as 
 are qualified to moderate and counterbalance it. 
 When, therefore, we see a fellow loud and talkative, 
 full of insipid life and laughter, we may venture to 
 pronounce him a female favourite." 
 
 I trust, my young friends, that nothing in your 
 deportment will ever authorize a conclusion like 
 this. Yet, if a young man of good education, re- 
 fined taste, and elevated morality, chooses in your 
 
CONVERSATION. 187 
 
 company trifling subjects, or descends often to lev- 
 ity, pause, and inquire of yourself why it is so ? — 
 whether he supposes this deportment most con- 
 genial to you, and what there is in your conduct 
 which might warrant such an opinion. 
 
 There were both good sense, and knowledge of 
 human nature, in the maxims given by a German 
 author to his daughter : — " Converse always with 
 your female friends, as if a gentleman were of the 
 party : and with young men, as if your female 
 companions were present." Avoid the dangerous 
 license of conversation, both in variety of subject, 
 and freedom of remark. Extreme delicacy on 
 these points is expected by correct judges, and 
 should always characterize an educated young 
 lady. 
 
 I would not desire that conversation should be 
 fettered by restraint, or paralyzed by heartless cer- 
 emony. But I would have the dignity of the sex 
 maintained by its fairest and most fascinating rep- 
 resentatives. I grieve to see folly sanctioned by 
 the lips of beauty. 
 
 Conversation need not be divested of intelli- 
 gence, by the vague fear of preciseness or ped- 
 antry. It ought to be a delightful and improving 
 intercourse between intellectual and immortal be- 
 ings. To attain excellence in it, an assemblage of 
 qualifications is requisite ; disciplined intellect, to 
 think clearly, and to clothe thought with propriety 
 and elegance ; knowledge of human nature, to suit 
 subject to character; true politeness, to prevent 
 
188 CONVERSATION. 
 
 giving pain ; a deep sense of morality, to preserve 
 the dignity of speech, and a spirit of benevolence 
 to neutralize its asperities and sanctify its powers. 
 
 It requires good talents, a good education, and a 
 good heart: the "charity that thinketh no evil," 
 and the piety which breathes good will to man, 
 because it is at peace with its Maker. No won- 
 der that so few excel in what requires such rare 
 combinations. Yet be not discouraged in your 
 attempts to obtain so valuable an accomplishment, 
 since it is the medium by which knowledge is 
 communicated, affection enkindled, sorrow com- 
 forted, error reclaimed, and piety incited to go on 
 her way rejoicing. 
 
 I beseech you abuse it not. Every night, in the 
 silence of your apartment, let the heart question 
 the lips of their part in the day's doings. Recall 
 the instances in which they have been trifling, 
 profitless, or recreant to the law of kindness, and 
 thus gather deeper contrition for the prayer with 
 which you resign yourself to sleep. Lest this 
 work be done lighty or carelessly, endeavour to 
 make it a faint emblem of that tribunal before 
 which we must all stand at last ; and engrave in- 
 delibly on your memory the solemn assurance that 
 for " every idle word, we must give account in the 
 day of judgment." 
 
 
LETTER XIII. 
 
 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 Permit me to press upon your attention a sci- 
 ence at once simple and sublime ; of easy attain- 
 ment, yet inexhaustible in its resources, and in its 
 results boundless as Eternity. Some sciences 
 require superior intellect, and severe study, yet to 
 their adepts bring little, save pride and ostentation. 
 But in this, the humblest and the youngest may 
 become students, and find blessed fruits springing 
 up, and ripening in their own bosoms. It is doubt- 
 less evident to you, that I speak of the science of 
 doing good. Yet I would not confine the term to 
 its common acceptation of alms-giving. This is 
 but a single branch of the science, though an im- 
 portant one. A more extensive and correct ex- 
 planation is, to strive to increase the happiness, 
 and diminish the amount of misery, among our fel- 
 low-creatures, by every means in our power. This 
 is a powerful antidote to selfishness, that baneful 
 and adhesive disease of our corrupt nature, or to 
 borrow the forcible words of Pascal, that " bias 
 towards ourselves, which is the spring of all dis- 
 order." Benevolence multiplies our sources of 
 pleasure, for in the happiness of all whom we 
 
190 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 bless, we are blessed also. It elevates our enjoy- 
 ments, by calling into exercise generous motives, 
 and disinterested affections. 
 
 Lord Bacon, that star of the first magnitude, 
 among the constellations of mind, says, that ne 
 early " took all knoivledge to be his province." 
 Will you not take all goodness to be your prov- 
 ince ? It is the wiser choice, for " knowledge 
 pufTeth up, but charity edifieth." Knowledge must 
 " perish in the using," but goodness, like its Author, 
 is eternal. 
 
 Dear young friend, whose eye, undimmed by 
 the sorrows of time, is now resting upon this page, 
 suffer me, from the experience of an older and 
 earth-worn traveller, to urge you to bind yourself 
 an apprentice to the trade of doing good. He 
 will be your Master, whose " mercies are new 
 every morning, and fresh every moment." He 
 will give you a tender and sustaining example, 
 who came to "seek and to save that which was 
 lost." They, too, will be your teachers, those 
 bright-winged ministering spirits, w T ho hold gentle 
 guardianship over us, their weaker brethren, lest 
 we " dash our foot against a stone," whose harps 
 are tremulous with joy when one sinner repenteth. 
 The wise and good of all realms and nations, those 
 who have gone to rest, and those who still labour, 
 you may count as your companions, a vast and 
 glorious assembly. 
 
 Resolve, therefore, this day, that you will not 
 live exclusively for your own gratification, but that 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 191 
 
 the good of others, shall be an incentive to your 
 studies, your exertions, your prayers. If you will 
 be persuaded thus to enroll yourselves among the 
 students of Heaven, consider attentively your own 
 powers, situation, and opportunities of doing good. 
 
 Take a view of the ground which you occupy. 
 Look around on every member of your own fami- 
 ly. Contemplate all among whom you reside, 
 and with whom you particularly associate. Are 
 any ignorant, whom you might instruct ; unhappy, 
 whom you might console ; in error, whom you 
 might reclaim ? Make acquaintance with the 
 poor. See with your own eyes, the deficiency of 
 their accommodations, and the nature of their sor- 
 rows. The directions given by the father of Louis 
 XVI. to the tutor of his children, reflect more hon- 
 our upon him than the circumstance of his royal 
 birth : " Take them to the cottages of the peas- 
 antry. I will have them see and taste the black 
 bread which they eat. I insist on their handling 
 the straw that serves the poorest for a bed. Let 
 them weep ; learn them to weep ; for the prince 
 who has never shed tears for the woes of others, 
 can never make a good king." 
 
 From among the many charitable societies of 
 the day, select one, whose design is most con- 
 genial to your feelings, or most approved by your 
 older friends. Enroll yourself among its mem- 
 bers, and study its management, and become fa- 
 miliar with the detail of its operations. Thus you 
 will preserve your own interest from languishing, 
 
192 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 and gather instruction from the associated wisdom 
 of others. Whatever income you may possess, or 
 whatever stipend is allowed you, set apart one 
 tenth for charitable purposes. This, surely, will 
 not seem to you a large proportion. Some be- 
 nevolent persons have devoted a fifth of their pos- 
 sessions to the poor. The pious Countess of 
 Warwick could not be satisfied without distribu* 
 ting one third of her large income to the wants of 
 the distressed. To a young lady, a sweet disciple 
 in the school of charity, and now, I trust, a parti- 
 cipant in the bliss of angels, who inquired what 
 proportion of her fortune she should devote to sa- 
 cred uses, I suggested a tenth. But she replied, 
 " I like better the rule of the publican, ' Lord, the 
 half of my goods, I give unto the poor.' ,: The late 
 excellent Mrs. Isabella Graham was in the habit 
 of devoting a tenth part of her possessions to char- 
 itable uses, under every reverse of fortune. On 
 one occasion, after the sale of some property, 
 £1000 was brought her. So large a sum was 
 new to her, and fearing the selfishness which is 
 said to accompany riches, she exclaimed : " Quick ! 
 quick ! let me appropriate my tenth, before my 
 heart grows hard." 
 
 For the division of a tenth of our substance, there 
 seems a kind of warrant in Scripture, by the tithe 
 which the Almighty commanded his chosen people 
 to render. " God," says an ancient writer, " de- 
 mandeth the seventh part of our time, and the 
 tenth of our fortune, but man, in his sabbath- 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 193 
 
 less pursuit of the world, is prone to give him 
 neither." 
 
 Whatever proportion you decide to consecrate, 
 keep in a separate purse, never to be entrenched 
 on for other purposes. If it be only a few cents, 
 be faithful ; God can make it more, if He sees you 
 are a good steward. Ponder the means of render- 
 ing it the most widely and permanently useful. 
 Study the economy of charity. By the exercise 
 of correct judgment, one dollar may do more good 
 than ten times the sum without it. As far as pos- 
 sible, increase your portion for the poor, by your 
 own industry. " Shall we call ourselves benevo- 
 lent, says the Baron Degerando, when the gifts 
 we bestow do not cost us a single privation V* To 
 ask your parents or friends for money, and give it 
 carelessly to the poor, is casting into God's treas- 
 ury that which costs you nothing. Either deduct 
 it from your regular allowance, or obtain it by your 
 own efforts. There are many kinds of elegant 
 needle-work, and ingenious device, by which young 
 ladies may furnish the means of charity, and at 
 the same time confirm industrious habits. I have 
 known some, who by rising an hour earlier in the 
 morning than usual, and making some garment 
 which was needed in the family, received from 
 their mother, the price that would have paid the 
 seamstress, and thus earned the delight of making 
 some shivering child more comfortable for the 
 winter. If your time is much at your own dis- 
 posal, statedly employ one hour out of the twenty- 
 
 17 
 
194 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 four, in working for some charitable object. More 
 will be thus accomplished, than you would at first 
 believe. To aid in educating a child, is one of the 
 most commendable and profitable designs. Facil- 
 ities are recently afforded, for doing this for the 
 children of heathen lands, in the families of Chris- 
 tian teachers. This seems to be emphatically, 
 " saving a soul from death." I have seen a young 
 lady, measuring out by an hour-glass, this conse- 
 crated portion of the day, with her hands busily 
 employed, and the sweetest expression upon her 
 mind-illumined face. And I remembered how 
 tuneful among the fragrant groves of Ceylon, 
 would rise the hymn of praise, from the little 
 being whom she was helping to the knowledge of 
 God, and the love of a Saviour. I reflected too, 
 with gratitude, that at the close of the year, when 
 she reviewed its scenes, and every day passed be- 
 fore her, with its crown of industry and bounty, 
 that she w T ould gather more true delight from their 
 simple record, than from the tinselled recollections 
 of gayety, and fashion. Do you think that you are 
 too young to enter on an organized system of do- 
 ing good ? I knew a school of fifteen members, 
 whose ages ranged from six to sixteen years, 
 though the greatest proportion were between ten 
 and thirteen. They were smitten with the love of 
 doing good, and associated themselves into a so- 
 ciety for that purpose. In a period of little more 
 than two years, they completed for the poor, 160 
 garments, many of them carefully altered or judi- 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 195 
 
 ciously repaired, from their own wardrobe. Among 
 these, were 35 pairs of stockings, knit without sac- 
 rifice of time, during the reading and recitation 
 of a course of history, which formed a principal 
 part of their afternoon study. That they might 
 render their monthly contributions the fruit of their 
 own industry, they employed almost incredible 
 diligence, as lessons in different sciences were 
 daily required to be studied out of school hours. 
 By rising an hour earlier in the morning, time was 
 gained for the various uses of the needle, by which 
 the pleasure of alms-giving was earned. Among 
 their contributions, I recollect ten dollars to an 
 asylum for the deaf and dumb, five to the schools 
 newly established among the Cherokees, and ten 
 in the purchase of religious books, for the children 
 of poverty and ignorance. The afternoon of Sat- 
 urday, was the only period of recess from school, 
 during the week. This single interval of leisure, 
 they voluntarily devoted to their chosen occupation 
 of doing good. 
 
 When I have found them convened in their 
 school-room, on this their only afternoon allotted 
 to recreation, and observed them, instead of being 
 engaged like others of their age, in useless sports, 
 executing works of charity, busily employed with 
 their needles, planning how some garment might 
 be best accommodated to its object, or some little 
 contribution rendered subservient to the greatest 
 good, their eyes sparkling with the heart's best 
 gladness, and their sweet voices echoing its mel- 
 
196 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 ody, I could not but trust that some pure spirit of 
 Heaven's prompting hovered over them. There 
 was an interesting period in the history of this lit- 
 tle institution, when its almoners first commenced 
 distributing the " coats and garments," which, like 
 Dorcas, they had made with their own hands, for 
 the poor. Then they occasionally discovered in- 
 stances of suffering which agitated their sensibil- 
 ities, sometimes learned the lesson that gratitude 
 is not always proportioned to benefits, and often 
 returned exulting in the truth that " it is more 
 blessed to give than to receive." No more inter- 
 esting report of these visits of charity was ever 
 given, than by one lovely girl of nine years of age, 
 who was deprived of the powers of hearing and 
 speech. Yet though her lips the providence of 
 Almighty God had sealed, her eye, her gesture, 
 her finely-varied countenance, glowing with the 
 spirit of benevolence, left nothing for oral language 
 to utter. At this period, the winter was peculiarly 
 severe, and the wretchedness of the poor, propor- 
 tionably increased. She had accompanied another 
 almoner to the miserable lodging of a family re- 
 cently removed from a clime where an extreme of 
 penury sometimes exists, which, in our favoured 
 state of society is seldom known. She expressed 
 strong commiseration that there was so little fire, 
 when the wind was raging without, and the snow 
 deep upon the earth, and that a sick babe seemed 
 to have neither medicine nor food. Her descrip- 
 tion of the thin and tattered garments of the 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 197 
 
 mother, and of her face, marked at once with sor- 
 row and with patience, evinced that not the slight- 
 est circumstance had escaped her discrimination, 
 while the tears of exquisite pity trembling in her 
 eye, proved that her heart was as little accustomed 
 to the woes of her fellow-creatures, as to their 
 vices. I have detained you longer than I intended, 
 with the picture of this little group. It furnishes 
 an example in point, that the mind, in its early 
 stages, is capable, both of the systematick arrange- 
 ment, and the judicious economy of chanty. Often, 
 while gazing with delight on the circle I have 
 attempted to describe, I fondly believed that the 
 habits which they were then forming would have 
 a lasting influence over their future character, and 
 that wherever their lot might be cast, they would 
 each of them be blessings in their day and gener- 
 ation. 
 
 In this, our highly-privileged age, the modes of 
 doing good are exceedingly numerous. Be thank- 
 ful to any one who furnishes you with one of these 
 opportunities. By a man, who was distinguished 
 in the science of charity, it was very early in life 
 adopted as a maxim, that " capacity and opportu- 
 nity to do good, not only give a right to do it, but 
 make the doing it a duty." Faithfully did he ob- 
 serve this precept. He began in the family of 
 his father, by doing all the good in his power to 
 brothers and sisters, and domesticks. After he be- 
 came engaged in the duties of life, and eminent in 
 the labours of a sacred profession, every day was 
 
 17* 
 
198 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 distinguished by either devising or executing some 
 design for the benefit of others. Those who in- 
 timately knew him, assert, that not a day was suf- 
 fered to pass, without his having devoted some 
 part of his income to pious purposes. 
 
 Undoubtedly, one of the best modes of assisting 
 the poor, is through their own industry. This, 
 like the voluntary co-operation of the patient, 
 renders the remedies of the physician doubly ef- 
 fectual. It elevates character, and prevents that 
 humiliating consciousness of dependance, which 
 bows a noble spirit, and renders a tame one abject. 
 It is peculiarly desirable that children should be 
 withheld from habits of mendicity. They inter- 
 fere with principles of integrity, and with a health- 
 ful self-respect. Aid offered to a mother, in the 
 form of some employment, where her children 
 may be associated with her, so as to increase and 
 share her earnings, is most efficient benevolence. 
 
 A lady of wealth became the resident of a vil- 
 lage where there was much poverty. In her 
 modes of relief she studied how to afford aliment 
 to industry and to hope, rather than to foster help- 
 lessness, or call forth a supine gratitude. Her 
 excellent judgment suggested a happy expedient. 
 She offered to supply those females who came to 
 her for assistance, with materials for spinning. 
 The proposition was generally accepted thank- 
 fully. When the yarn was brought, she paid for 
 it promptly, adding a trifle more than they had 
 been accustomed to receive. This caused her to 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 199 
 
 be soon thronged with applicants. Weavers as 
 well as spinners presented themselves, and the 
 busy sound of the wheel and loom, rose cheerfully 
 from many an humble habitation. Domestick fab- 
 ricks of great durability, and suited to the varied 
 wants of families, were thus completed. Such a pro- 
 portion of them as were needed by her manufactur- 
 ers, she disposed of to them, at a lower price than 
 they could elsewhere be obtained, and thus had the 
 pleasure of seeing households, once comparatively 
 idle or improvident, neatly clothed by the work of 
 their own hands. The intercourse which was thus 
 promoted, familiarized her with the situation of 
 families, and enabled her to make appropriate gifts 
 of books to children, cordials to the sick, and com- 
 forts to the aged. Aiming still at a more expan- 
 sive benevolence, yet avoiding ostentation, she 
 selected from among the more intelligent matrons, 
 a few, with whom she consulted monthly, on the 
 best means of rendering her plans effectual. She 
 not only derived advantage from their practical 
 good sense, and thorough knowledge of common 
 affairs, but communicated happiness by her con- 
 descension, and by the feeling that they were found 
 worthy to be associated with a superior mind, in 
 the science of doing good. Perceiving that there 
 were in the village some petty disafTections, ari- 
 sing from sectarian jealousies, she arranged that 
 each denomination should be represented at this 
 humble board of managers, and the pleasant inter- 
 course into which they were thus drawn, at their 
 
200 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 monthly visits of consultation, dissolved prejudice 
 and fostered kind affections. In process of time, 
 she added a school, for which she provided a com- 
 petent instructress, often visiting it herself, and 
 statedly distributing premiums to the most deserv- 
 ing. By this steady consecration of her influence 
 to the best objects, the face of the village was 
 changed, and many hearts poured blessings upon 
 their benefactress. 
 
 The gift of useful books, may also be ranked 
 among the most unexceptionable forms of charity. 
 It would be well to choose none for that purpose, 
 which you have not first carefully perused. Thus, 
 you will not only enrich your own mind from their 
 treasures, but become qualified to judge of their 
 adaptation to particular stations, characters, and 
 states of mind. The Sacred Scriptures, and sim- 
 ple treatises enforcing its precepts, without any 
 mixture of sectarian bitterness, will doubtless oc- 
 cupy a prominent place in your library for distri- 
 bution. Biographies of persons, illustrious for 
 benevolence and piety, will be found to exercise a 
 highly beneficial influence. Make these gifts to such 
 as you have reason to think will put them to the best 
 use. To the young, it will sometimes be well to 
 lend them, on condition, that at returning them, 
 they will render you some account of their con- 
 tents. This will generally secure an attentive 
 perusal, and also give you the opportunity of prof- 
 itable conversation, either to engrave some pre- 
 cept on their memory, or recommend some exam- 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 201 
 
 pie to their imitation. Lay useful volumes in the 
 way of domesticks, who may thus be induced to 
 read them. Who can tell how much good may 
 result from a hint, or train of thought thus sug- 
 gested ? Dr. Franklin, so eminent for publick spirit, 
 and so distinguished in distant lands for his designs 
 of utility, acknowledges : " If I have ever been a 
 useful citizen, the publick owe the advantage of it 
 to a small bopk, which I met with when a boy, 
 entitled, ' Essays to do Good,' written by the Rev. 
 Dr. Cotton Mather. It had been so little regarded 
 by its former possessor, that several leaves were 
 torn out, but the remainder gave me such a turn 
 of thinking, as to have an influence on my conduct 
 through life : for I have always set a greater value 
 on the character of the doer of good, than any other 
 kind of reputation." 
 
 The missionary zeal of Henry Martyn, which 
 left his name as a burning light among the churches, 
 was enkindled by a perusal of the life of David 
 Brainerd. Samuel J. Mills, the pioneer of mercy 
 to long-neglected Africa, and Fisk, who in his 
 labours of love, followed his Master's footsteps 
 from despised Nazareth, to the vales of Betha- 
 ny, ascended breezy Olivet, and wept among the 
 shades of Gethsemane, derived their prompting 
 impulse from the same book. Nor will it be pos- 
 sible to compute, until the scrutiny of the last ac- 
 count, how much of the wisdom of the truly great, 
 of the virtue of those who have been benefactors 
 to mankind, or of the piety of the saint who hath 
 
202 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 entered into bliss, has been the fruit of some silent 
 and eloquent page, perhaps accidentally read, or 
 gratuitously presented. 
 
 When I look back upon the sheltered and flowery 
 path of childhood, one image is ever there, vivid 
 and cherished above all others. It is of hoary 
 temples, and a brow furrowed by more than four- 
 score winters, yet to me more lovely than the 
 bloom of beauty, or the freshness of youth, for it 
 is associated with the benevolence of an angel. 
 Among the tireless acts of bounty, which rendered 
 her name a watchword in the cells of poverty, 
 and her house a beacon-light to the broken in heart, 
 were the gift of books, and the education of indi- 
 gent children. On stated days, the children of the 
 neighbourhood were gathered around her, fed at 
 her table, made happy by her kindness, instructed 
 from her lips, and encouraged to read and under- 
 stand the books with which her library was stored 
 for their use. Surely, in some of those hearts, the 
 melody of that voice, speaking of things that " per- 
 tain unto the kingdom of God," is still treasured ; 
 among the eyes that were then raised to her 
 with affectionate reverence, some must still 
 delight to restore her image, as well as that 
 which now fills with the tear of an undying 
 gratitude. 
 
 That a desire of goodness may not evaporate 
 in empty protestations, or lose itself in desultory 
 paths, let us endeavour to mark out a map to regu- 
 late its course. A system, adapted like the fol- 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 203 
 
 lowing, to every day in the week, may help both 
 to define duty, and to secure perseverance : — 
 
 Sunday. — What shall I do to manifest my grati- 
 tude to my Almighty Benefactor ? Shall I not, 
 on this hallowed day, abstain from worldly pur- 
 suits and conversation, study his holy word, recount 
 his mercies with a thankful spirit, and solicit his 
 blessing on all the employments and changes of 
 the week ? 
 
 Monday. — What good can I do for my parents, 
 or friends older than myself, to whom I am indebt- 
 ed ? Can I perform any office conducive to their 
 comfort, or signalize, by any increase of respect 
 or tenderness, my obedience and affection ? 
 
 Tuesday. — How can I advance the improvement 
 of my brothers and sisters, or the servants, or any 
 other member of the family ? 
 
 Wednesday. — Can I exert any influence over my 
 companions, neighbours or intimate friends, to read 
 some useful book, and make its contents the subject 
 of conversation, or to perform some good work ? 
 
 Thursday. — Are there any poor whom I may 
 visit — sick, whom I may assist — sorrowful, with 
 whom I may sympathize ? Have I no portion to 
 carry to the destitute — no message of comfort 
 from Heaven, to those who are in adversity ? 
 
 Friday. — Are there any who feel unkindly 
 towards me, and is it in my power to render them 
 any friendly office ? Let me strive to return good 
 for evil, if it be only by an increased kindness and 
 courtesy of deportment. 
 
204 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 Saturday. — What can I do for my own spiritual 
 improvement ? Let me in solitude take a review 
 of my conduct during the week, comparing each 
 day with the resolutions which were adopted to 
 guide it. From my omissions may I learn hu- 
 mility and wisdom, and by self-communion and 
 prayer, gather strength to pass another week more 
 as I shall wish I had, when the close of life ap- 
 proaches. 
 
 As a part of the science which we contemplate, 
 let us now bestow some attention on the manner 
 of doing good. In imparting relief to the poor, 
 always regard their feelings. Let the law of kind- 
 ness dwell on your lips whenever you address 
 them. Are we better than they, because a larger 
 proportion of this world's fleeting possessions have 
 fallen to our share ? He who " maketh us to dif- 
 fer," will surely be displeased, if there is pride in 
 our heart, or unkindness on our lips, towards our 
 poor brother. Do good without seeking a return, 
 even of grateful acknowledgment. Disinterested- 
 ness is essential to proficiency in this science. 
 What reward did Howard expect, when he resigned 
 the ease of affluence, and encountered hardships 
 and peril of life, " to dive into the depth of dun- 
 geons — to plunge into the infection of hospitals — 
 to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain — to 
 take the gauge of misery, depression and con- 
 tempt — to remember the forgotten — to attend 
 to the neglected — to visit the forsaken — and 
 to compare and collate the distresses of all 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 205 
 
 men in all countries ?" Verily, his reward is in 
 heaven. 
 
 Not only must you persevere in good offices, 
 without looking for a return, but even should in- 
 gratitude be your portion. It may sometimes 
 happen, that the most laborious efforts for the good 
 of others are misunderstood, misconstrued, or 
 repaid with indifference and dislike. Still hold on 
 your course, with an unchanged mind. Your ob- 
 ject is not the applause of men, neither should 
 their injustice deter you. You have taken Him 
 for your pattern, who " sendeth rain on the just 
 and on the unjust, and doeth good unto the un- 
 thankful and evil." 
 
 In your charities avoid ostentation. It is ex- 
 ceedingly disgusting to make allusions to them, as 
 if anxious for observation and praise. Never speak 
 of them at all, unless explanation is necessary. 
 You may excite your young companions to similar 
 efforts, without blazoning your own deeds. There 
 is a sacred secrecy in true charity, which he, who 
 violates, hath mistaken its nature. Scripture de- 
 fines it, in the figurative injunction, "not to let the 
 left hand know what the right hand doeth." God, 
 whose eye is upon the soul, and who weigheth its 
 motives of action, perceiveth, that unless charity 
 dwell with humility, its deeds are nothing worth. 
 The most benevolent, have ever been the most 
 humble. 
 
 There are certain classes of benevolent deeds, 
 which fall so peculiarly within the province of fe- 
 
 18 
 
206 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 males, as to have obtained the name of feminine 
 charities. I allude to the relief of the famishing, 
 and the care of the sick. 
 
 Indeed the very etymology of the word lady, 
 which has been resolved into a Saxon term, com- 
 posed of loaf , and to serve, signifies that dealing 
 food to the hungry was deemed so essential a fea- 
 ture in her character, that the giver of the loaf 
 and the lady, became synonymous. In the days 
 of primitive Christianity, ladies of the highest rank 
 were often found at the bedside of the humblest 
 sufferer, meekly ministering to their necessities. 
 The example of the sisters of a sect, differing from 
 our own, deserves the tribute of our respect and 
 admiration. The nuns, attached to the Romish 
 faith, have long been eminent for their services to 
 sick and dying strangers : they have been found 
 in hospitals, and amid the ravages of pestilence, 
 fearless of contagion, and unconscious of fatigue, 
 smoothing the sleepless pillow of disease, and 
 never deserting the sufferer, though forsaken by 
 all beside, until death comes to his release. Justly 
 have they earned the appellation of u sisters of 
 charity," and let us gladly render praise where it 
 is due, and be quickened to emulation in the path 
 of goodness, even by those, whose opinions may 
 differ from our own. 
 
 An ancient writer has styled the poor, " the re- 
 ceivers of Christ's rents." It would seem that he 
 had constituted them his representatives. In sooth- 
 ing the grief of his disciples, at their approaching 
 
BENEVOLENCE. 207 
 
 separation, he said : " Me ye have not always, but 
 the poor are always with you, and whensoever ye 
 will, ye may do them good." An obligation is 
 thus created, to extend to them the same compas- 
 sion, which we would have shown to our Saviour, 
 had we been permitted to hear from his lips the 
 assertion, that "he had not where to lay his head." 
 If, therefore, we admit the proposition, that the 
 '* poor are the receivers of Christ's rents," there is 
 no room left for exultation in our acts of bounty. 
 Is there any merit in the payment of a just debt ? 
 " Verily, boasting is excluded." The call is for 
 gratitude, that we are allowed the privilege. " The 
 poor," said the venerable Bishop Wilson, "receive 
 at our hands the rights and dues, belonging unto 
 God. — We must have a care of defrauding them." 
 The mother of the Chevalier Bayard, in her advice 
 to him, says : " Be bountiful, of the goods that God 
 shall give you, to the poor and needy, for to 
 give for his honour's sake, never made any man 
 poor ; and believe me, my son, the alms that you 
 shall dispense, will greatly profit both your body 
 and soul." 
 
 Mankind are like one great family, dividing 
 among each other the gifts of a common parent. 
 Those who are permitted to impart, should thank 
 him with a cheerful and humble spirit. The inter- 
 change of benefits, the communion of giving and 
 receiving, creates some of the best affections of 
 which our nature is capable. The generous sym- 
 pathy — the active benevolence — the mutual de- 
 
208 BENEVOLENCE. 
 
 pendance, which are thus awakened and confirmed, 
 are powerful preparatives for heartfelt piety. So 
 that doing good is one of the legitimate paths to 
 being good. Therefore, have I so much pressed 
 it upon your susceptible hearts, dear young friends, 
 now, in life's sunny morning, while God is wait- 
 ing to be gracious. But now I must quit this de- 
 lightful subject, lest your patience refuse longer to 
 bear with me. 
 
 In the fabulous record of ancient times, it is 
 stated that when the name of Plutarch was men- 
 tioned, the echo replied, Philosophy : so when you 
 shall slumber beneath the clods of the valley, and 
 your names are uttered by the living, may the re- 
 sponse be in many hearts, Benevolence 
 
LETTER XIV. 
 
 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 That self-regulating power, by which the affec- 
 tions and passions are subjugated to the dictates 
 of duty, and the precepts of inspiration, should be 
 assiduously cultivated by woman. Appointed all 
 her life, to be " under tutors and governors," both 
 her comfort and safety require, that the principle 
 of discipline should be rooted in her heart. As au- 
 thority is best exercised, by those who have them- 
 selves learned subordination, so she should govern 
 herself, that she may be better able to obey. As 
 the strength of nations, is in the unity of individ- 
 uals — so the beauty of a well-balanced character, 
 may be traced back to the element of self-control. 
 
 Other checks are of unequal operation. The 
 eye of authority cannot always be vigilant. The 
 heart that we delight to make happy, cannot always 
 be near. The love of popularity may create an 
 artificial goodness, and stir up hypocrisy to adorn 
 a " whited sepulchre." But that voice which 
 composes the warring factions of the soul, com- 
 mands silence when Reason speaks, and enforces 
 obedience when Virtue lifts her sceptre, must de- 
 rive its strength from above. Such a regimen as 
 
 18* 
 
210 SELF-CON TfiOL, 
 
 promotes this great result, should be steadily pur- 
 sued by the young. 
 
 Submission to parents, teachers and superiors, 
 harmony with brothers, sisters, and friends, pre- 
 pare the way for those more arduous relative du- 
 ties which devolve upon our sex : and all are ren- 
 dered comparatively easy to her, whose heart is 
 habitually governed by the understanding. I do 
 not say that these are ever so perfectly discharged, 
 that at the close of any day there will be no room 
 for regret or compunction. The record of the best 
 day on earth will but teach her who measures deed 
 and motive by the " length and breadth of a law 
 divine," to lay her lip in the dust. Still this pain- 
 ful consciousness is salutary. It may stimulate to 
 new exertion, while it levels the fabricks of pride. 
 "We should be convinced of infirmity, but not con- 
 tented with it. 
 
 Calmness and equanimity are excellent virtues 
 in our sex, and the more so, as our sphere of ac- 
 tion is exposed to those lesser causes of irritation 
 which more effectually, than great afflictions, try 
 the temper of the soul. We think it hard to have 
 our wishes opposed — our motives misunderstood, 
 or our " good deeds evil spoken of." Yet these 
 must often occur. It is wisest to meet unkind 
 remark and ridicule, with little notice, or with no 
 reply ; as Eneas was instructed to pass in silence, 
 the monstrous shapes, and mocking chimeras, 
 which his sword menaced in vain. Thus, the 
 waste of feeling is saved, and the triumph of 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 211 
 
 malice prevented ; for malice is more readily dis- 
 armed by indifference, than by conflict, or retalia- 
 tion. 
 
 It is a still higher attainment in the science of 
 self-command, to bear trials of temper with an un- 
 changed cheerfulness of deportment. " In all my 
 persecutions," said Count Bouneval, an unfortunate 
 officer, under Prince Eugene, " I have never lost 
 either my appetite, or my good humour." Uncon- 
 genial companions and employments, for which we 
 have no taste, must sometimes be endured. The 
 sweet and salutary submission with which such 
 untoward circumstances may be sustained, was 
 beautifully illustrated by Winkelman : " While I 
 taught a-b-c, to little slovenly children, I. was 
 aspiring after the knowledge of the beautiful, and 
 meditating low to myself on the similes of Homer. 
 Then I said, as I still say, ' Peace, my soul, thy 
 strength shall surmount thy necessities.'" 
 
 A fixed principle of equanimity is required, not 
 only to discharge duties adverse to the taste, but 
 to meet without elation, the sudden sunbeam of 
 prosperity. The nature of our government admits 
 of unexpected changes in the condition of men, 
 and reverses for which there could have been little 
 or no preparation. A firm and accurate mental 
 balance is required, to hold our way upon a height 
 without giddiness. Perhaps, no better eulogium 
 has been pronounced on the wife of Cesar, than 
 the remark of an historian, that the triumphs of 
 her husband never inspired her with presumption, 
 
212 SELF-CONTROL 
 
 nor his reverses with dejection. No change of 
 manner, ever designated to others, when she was 
 the wife of the senator, or the wife of the master 
 of the world. Though a participation in Roman 
 triumphs, will never put our philosophy to the 
 proof ; yet the principle of equanimity under every 
 change of fortune, is both noble and consistent in 
 the daughters of a republick. "Those continual 
 crossings and traversings which beset us," says a 
 Christian moralist, " are but so many lessons, 
 teaching us to conform ourselves to the life of 
 Him, who pleased not himself." 
 
 Self-control is essential to females because the 
 duties of their peculiar station so often demand 
 its exercise. Though they are happily excused 
 from a part in those political convulsions, which 
 leave traces of blood on the tablet of history, yet 
 in the routine of domestick life, are many unfor- 
 seen and distressing emergencies, which need the 
 calm summoning and prompt application of every 
 power. How often do sudden sickness, or severe 
 casualty, require the aid of the tenderest hand. 
 And how painful is it for the sufferer to be dis- 
 tressed by the agitation of those whom he loves, 
 or by their inability to render such services as are 
 most important to his welfare. 
 
 The dangers which occur in travelling, or on 
 voyages, are often of an appalling nature. Then, 
 it is the part of our sex, not to embarrass those 
 who have the superintendance, with the burden of 
 their own fears, to do with as much calmness as 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 213 
 
 they can command, all that is in their power for 
 the aid or consolation of others, and to bear with 
 resignation, their own share of evil. Confidence 
 in the Supreme Being, and an habitual surrender 
 of ourselves to the care of that Providence, without 
 which " not a sparrow falleth," are the surest 
 foundations for this fabrick of duty. A serene 
 brow, a calm voice, and a manner free from per- 
 turbation, amid impending dangers, are high attain- 
 ments in woman, and often aid to inspire the 
 stronger sex with courage, amid their more exposed 
 stations of hazard and of toil. The Rev. John 
 Wesley, during a voyage to America, encountered 
 a terrible storm, which threatened shipwreck. The 
 most hardy seamen gave up all for lost, and many 
 proud minds yielded to dismay and despair. Amid 
 this scene of confusion, he saw a little band of 
 Moravians gathered together, singing with calm 
 voices, a hymn to the Redeemer. It was sweet 
 in that hour of tumult and terror, to hear the tones 
 of the mother and the child, blend untremulous 
 with the deeper intonations of the father, and the 
 pastor. — Beyond all hope, the tempest subsided. 
 Wesley expressed his surprise to the spiritual 
 teacher of the Moravians, at the self-command of 
 his people, especially of the more timid sex, and 
 of the little ones. " Our women and children" he 
 replied with simplicity, " are not afraid to die." 
 
 If timidity in seasons of danger, should be re- 
 sisted, the indulgence of imaginary fears, is still 
 less to be tolerated. Few causes have more con- 
 
214 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 spired to perpetuate the opinion of the mental in- 
 feriority of females, than their tendency to yield to 
 slight alarms. To shriek at a reptile, to be ready 
 to swoon at every unpleasant sight, to express ex- 
 aggerated sentiments of terror on every possible 
 occasion, though it may be endured or even flat- 
 tered in the season of youth and beauty, is entirely 
 beneath that dignity which our sex ought to main- 
 tain. There is also a vain imagination, nourished 
 by improper reading, which produces ridiculous 
 results. To fancy one's self in this very " matter- 
 of-fact age, 1 ' an object of admiration to chivalrous 
 knights, and disguised heroes, or in danger from 
 assassins, robbers, or spectral and undefinable be- 
 ings, is too ludicrous for serious argument. Scorn 
 all affectation, but consider that of fear, as espe- 
 cially ill-judged and unfortunate. That construc- 
 tion of character which leads woman to depend on 
 man as her natural protector, is calculated to 
 awaken his interest, because it arouses him to 
 what his Creator intended him to be, a guard and 
 covert for the " weaker vessel." But it is false 
 policy to make unnecessary appeals. They have 
 no effect upon the judicious, except to create dis- 
 gust. If you are really timid, my dear young 
 friends, set yourselves to reform it as a fault of 
 character. Summon to uniform and rational ac- 
 tion, the powers with which you are endowed, and 
 strengthen them by trust in the sleepless watch 
 of His fatherly care, to whom the lowest sigh of 
 the feeblest nature is audible. 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 215 
 
 I have seen in one of our own sex, a presence 
 of mind so consistent, that no unexpected duty, or 
 sudden alarm, or distressing emergency, found it 
 unprepared. The judgment was always clear, the 
 spirits unhurried, and the mind ready for action. 
 It was united with superior talents, and gained 
 from all who witnessed it, perfect respect. It 
 seemed, in this instance, to have affinity with the 
 principle of longevity, and to aid life to run clear, 
 and bright, and dregless, to the last drop. In be- 
 holding it intimately, as it was my privilege to do, 
 I have often been reminded of the beautiful senti- 
 ment of Plutarch, " one of the rewards of philoso- 
 phy, is long life." Rational and firm piety was at 
 its foundation, and as it has been exemplified by 
 woman, so doubtless it may be again. 
 
 To eradicate our passions, to annihilate the 
 strong perceptions of pleasure and pain, and to 
 preserve apathy under severe afflictions, would be 
 impossible, if it were desired, and not to be desir- 
 ed, if it were possible. " It is not right," says the 
 excellent Pascal, " that we should remain without 
 pain or grief, under the afflictions which befall us, 
 like angels, who are above the sentiments of our 
 nature ; neither is it right that we should indulge 
 grief without consolation, like heathen, who have 
 no sentiments of grace. But we ought both to 
 mourn and to be comforted like Christians ; the 
 consolations of grace should rise superior to the 
 feelings of nature, so that grace may not only 
 dwell in, but be victorious over us." To be de- 
 
216 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 void of emotion is not required by the Author of 
 our being. The sympathies of this state of sor- 
 row would be but faintly exhibited ; the duties that 
 depend upon the affections but feebly performed, 
 were ? system of stoicism established. But so to 
 temper the discordant principles of our nature, 
 that they disturb not the harmony of society, 
 so to rule its stormy elements, that they make 
 not shipwreck of the soul, is a practicable sci- 
 ence. 
 
 It has been urged as a reproach to our sex, that 
 we were prone to be discomposed by trifles. Our 
 business is among trifles. Household occupations, 
 to men engrossed by the sublime sciences, seem a 
 tissue of trifles. Yet, as "trifles make the sum of 
 human things," so the comfort of a family is af- 
 fected by the touching, or not touching, many 
 minute springs, which like " a wheel within a 
 wheel," are of secret operation, but essential im- 
 portance. Susceptible as we are, by our original 
 construction, and often rendered more so, by deli- 
 cate health, or nervous temperament, trivial obsta- 
 cles are sometimes encountered with less calm- 
 ness, than heavy adversities. Our danger from 
 slight causes of irritation, is obvious. So also is 
 the remedy. Suffer not the heart to be fixed on 
 trifles. If our sphere of action comprises them, 
 there is no reason why they should destroy our ca- 
 pacity for enjoyment. Supply the thoughts with 
 nobler subjects of contemplation. When the little 
 angry billows beat against the bark, look aloft. 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 217 
 
 The pole-star never varies. The pilot is always 
 the same. 
 
 Presence of mind is an attainment highly to be 
 valued. Those who are desirous to possess it, 
 must avoid the indulgence of whatever disorders 
 the equilibrium of the mind. They should neve? 
 be in a hurry. This is not only ungraceful, and 
 uncomfortable, to others, but often subversive of 
 the end in view. It has been long acknowledged 
 by observers of human nature, that those who are 
 most frequently in a hurry, perform the least. 
 They overthrow their own plans, and the mind 
 which loses its balance, like a planet which for- 
 sakes its sphere, is in danger of disconcerting the 
 orbit of others, and running wild into the realm of 
 disorder. 
 
 Because woman is deficient in physical strength, 
 it does not follow that she need be so in moral 
 courage. Many examples might be cited, to prove 
 that she is not. Passive and patient endurance 
 has been often so naturalized, as to seem indi- 
 genous. Instances of intrepidity might also be 
 adduced, which has conquered the most formid- 
 able difficulties and dangers. When Queen Chris- 
 tina w r as once visiting some ships-of-war, that 
 were building at Stockholm, a circumstance oc- 
 curred which revealed her presence of mind in 
 danger. While crossing a narrow plank, con- 
 ducted by the oldest admiral, in consequence of a 
 false step, he fell, and drew her with him, into 
 water nearly a hundred feet in depth. Some of 
 
 19 
 
218 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 the first nobles of the realm, plunging in, she was 
 rescued. The moment her head was raised above 
 the sea, entirely forgetful of herself, she said, 
 " Take care of the admiral." On being brought to 
 shore, she testified no agitation, but having been 
 expected to dine in publick that day — she did so, 
 with perfect calmness of manner, and her usual 
 degree of animation. 
 
 Another instance, shows still more fully, her 
 admirable self-control. An assassin, such as too 
 often lurks in the vicinity of courts, had determined 
 to take away her life. He was disordered in in- 
 tellect, and laid his plan both with the cunning and 
 rashness of insanity. He sought the queen, du- 
 ring divine service in the chapel, and waited for the 
 moment, when, according to the ritual of the 
 Swedish church, the act of recollection is per- 
 formed. Then every member of the congregation 
 kneeling, and covering the face with the hand, en- 
 gages in silent and separate devotion. Rush- 
 ing through the crowd, and striking aside the 
 guards, who crossed their partisans at his ap- 
 proach, he leaped the barrier that divided him from 
 the queen, and aimed a deadly blow at her, with 
 a knife. His design was prevented, and he was 
 seized and borne away. Christina, fixing her 
 eyes upon him calmly for a moment, returned to 
 her devotions, and no subsequent emotion testified 
 that her life had been in danger. 
 
 Firmness and magnanimity are not often thus 
 tested in woman, but history has connected with 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 219 
 
 her, many illustrations of that moral courage, which 
 rises with opposing circumstances, and turns even 
 adversity to advantage. 
 
 During the troubles that convulsed the reign 
 of Henry VI. of England, Margaret, his queen, 
 having adventured her life to rescue her captive 
 husband, was flying after defeat in battle. She 
 found herself in the midst of a thick forest in Scot- 
 land, not knowing whither to direct her course. 
 Amid thick darkness, that would have terrified one 
 less heroick, and fatigue that must have exhausted 
 every spirit but that of a mother, she bore in her 
 arms her only son, Prince Edward, who had sunk 
 from weariness, and want of food. The almost 
 impervious wood was infested by bold and relent- 
 less robbers. A band of them, starting from their 
 hiding-places, seized the royal fugitive, and plun- 
 dered her of the jewels, on which alone she de- 
 pended for subsistence. Still, preserving her pres- 
 ence of mind, she meditated the means of escape. 
 Perceiving that they were about to quarrel 
 about the division of the treasure, she waited 
 until they were engaged in contention, and then, 
 with her child, plunged into the pathless forest. 
 
 A short time only elapsed, when from a dark 
 thicket, a gigantick robber suddenly approached 
 her, with a drawn sword. By the concealed light 
 that he bore, she saw that his countenance was 
 grim and dead to pity. Raising her spirits to the 
 fearful occasion, she held towards him the young 
 prince, and with a serene and commanding voice, 
 
220 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 said : " Here, my friend, save the son of your king !* 
 Awed by her majesty, and subdued by so un- 
 wonted an appeal to his generosity, he kneeled at 
 her feet, took in his arms the sacred charge in- 
 trusted to him, and by his aid, Margaret being 
 enabled to reach the coast, safely embarked for 
 Flanders. 
 
 Patience in sickness, and the power of physical 
 endurance, have been conceded to our sex. They 
 have also repeatedly exemplified a noble fortitude 
 under afflictions of the heart. Illustrations might 
 be gathered from the pages of history, and one 
 which has been to me peculiarly touching, is that 
 of Lady Russell. Though, from your acquaintance 
 with the history of England, you are doubtless fa- 
 miliar with it, you will allow me the gratification 
 of slightly recapitulating it. When her husband, 
 Lord William Russell, distinguished for patriotism 
 and virtue, was arraigned by the turbulence and 
 tyranny which marked a part of the reign of 
 Charles II., and stood on his trial for life, he was 
 inhumanly refused the benefit of counsel. All that 
 he could obtain, was permission for an amanuensis 
 to assist him in taking notes. Immediately his 
 wife came to his side with her pen, serene and 
 self-possessed, to aid him in that last extremity. 
 When the daughter of the noble Earl of South- 
 ampton, the favourite of the people, was seen per- 
 forming this painful service for her lord, a murmur 
 of the deepest sympathy and indignation arose 
 from that assembly. After his unjust condemna- 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 221 
 
 tion, when she came to take her last farewell of 
 him in prison, though her tenderness for him was 
 inexpressible, she controlled the expression of 
 grief, lest she might discompose the soul that she 
 loved, while it stood on the solemn verge of eter- 
 nity. When she had departed, the sentenced no- 
 bleman said, " Now the bitterness of death is past ;" 
 and prepared himself for the scaffold with Chris- 
 tian heroism. 
 
 There are many instances where the heart rules 
 its agony, that difficult duty may be firmly dis- 
 charged, which no splendour of rank renders illus- 
 trious, and no historian's tablet records. The noble 
 principles which actuated this illustrious lady, may 
 operate in obscurity and poverty, where the soul, 
 unsustained by sympathy, uncheered by human 
 applause, depends solely on itself, and on its God. 
 An incident of recent occurrence exhibits equal 
 fortitude, though differently called into exercise. 
 One of the small islands in Boston bay, was in- 
 habited by a single poor family. The father was 
 taken suddenly sick. There was no physician. 
 The wife, on whom every labour for the household 
 devolved, was sleepless in care and tenderness, by 
 the bed of her suffering husband. Every remedy 
 in her power to procure, was administered, but the 
 disease was acute, and he died. Seven young 
 children mourned around the lifeless corpse. They 
 were the sole beings upon that desolate spot. Did 
 the mother indulge the grief of her spirit and sit 
 down in despair? No. She entered upon the 
 
 19* 
 
!22 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 arduous and sacred duties of her station. She felt 
 that there was no hand to aid her in burying her 
 dead. Providing as far as possible for the com- 
 fort of her little ones, she put the babe into the 
 arms of the oldest, and charged the two next in 
 age, to watch the corpse of their father. She un- 
 moored her husband's fishing boat, which but two 
 days before, he had guided over the sea, to obtain 
 food for his family. She dared not yield to those 
 tender recollections, that might have unnerved her 
 arm. The nearest island was at the distance of 
 three miles. Strong winds lashed the waters to 
 foam. Over the loud billows, that wearied and 
 sorrowful woman rowed, and was preserved. She 
 reached the next island, and obtained necessary 
 aid. With such energy did her duty to her deso- 
 late babes inspire her, that the voyage which de- 
 pended on her individual effort, was performed in 
 a shorter period than the returning one, when the 
 oars were managed by two men, who went to assist 
 in the last offices to the dead. 
 
 Instances of fortitude might be gathered from 
 almost every rank and station, at home and abroad. 
 Still, it is not for calamities of great magnitude, 
 such as fill the publick eye with sympathy, that 
 our sex are frequently summoned to prepare them- 
 selves. It is rather to bear with serene patience 
 the lesser ills of life, and to evince the uniform 
 guidance of correct principles and dispositions, in 
 the sheltered province of domestick duty. 
 
 In our sex, there is a pliancy of mental, as well 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 223 
 
 as physical organization, which readily adapts 
 itself to change of situation. This renders it easier 
 for them to perform that important class of duties, 
 which console and animate those whom they love 
 tmder reverses or sorrows. How often amid the 
 wilds of this western world, has the cheering smile 
 of the wife or daughter, sustained the desponding 
 emigrant. How often have they forgotten their 
 own privations, in the labours which procured 
 comfort for others. 
 
 The most refined minds, have sometimes dis- 
 played this magnanimity in the greatest promi- 
 nence. " O what a comfort !" exclaimed the ac- 
 complished Elizabeth Smith, when after the failure 
 of the bank, which had reduced them from afflu- 
 ence to poverty, she followed the fortunes of her 
 father, and quitting a beautiful mansion and en- 
 deared society, entered the rude barracks which 
 had been provided for the family, in Ireland. — 
 " Comfort !" said her mother, " there seems none 
 left for us." — " O yes," replied she, " sweetest, 
 dearest mother, see, here is a little cupboard." 
 The matron acknowledged herself reproved by 
 the bright smile of that angel-spirit, which would 
 have called forth verdure and beauty amid the 
 most parched and dreary pilgrimage of life. 
 
 Among the many females, who in this land have 
 encountered the toils of emigration, and the hard- 
 ships inseparable from the establishment of a new 
 colony, was one, who half a century since, removed 
 with her husband, and the young germs of their 
 
224 SELF-CONTROL, 
 
 household, to the distant and unsettled western 
 expanse. The fatigues and perils of their journey- 
 were unusual. Many miles at its close, were 
 through a tangled forest, whose only path, was a 
 rude trace, cut by the axe. A strong vehicle, 
 drawn by oxen, conveyed their simple furniture 
 and means of subsistence. The wife and mother 
 cheerfully proceeded on foot. Her first-born, a 
 boy of ten years old, was sickly, and seemed 
 rather like a denizen of the grave, than a hardy 
 pioneer of the unplanted world. She was strength- 
 ened to bear him the greater part of the way, in 
 her arms, or clinging to her shoulders, and to com- 
 fort his sad heart with hymns when they halted 
 to rest. 
 
 In the recesses of a dreary forest, they formed 
 their habitation of rough logs, and covered it with 
 hemlock bark. Its floor was of earth, and they 
 had no windows of glass, through which to admit 
 the cheering beam of heaven. The mistress of 
 that poor dwelling, exerted herself by neatness, 
 and order, and an unvarying cheerfulness of man- 
 ner, to lead its inmates to forget their many pri- 
 vations. She did not sadly contrast it with the 
 lighted halls, and carpets, and sofas, and vases of 
 breathing flowers, among which she had spent her 
 youth ; nor with the circles of elegance and refine- 
 ment, which she had loved, and where she had 
 been beloved in return. She made herself happy 
 among the hard duties which became the wife of 
 a, lowly emigrant. Reverses of fortune, had made 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 225 
 
 this removal necessary, and she determined not to 
 repine. 
 
 Through the day she laboured, and the carol of 
 her frequent song rose up strangely sweet, from 
 the bosom of that deep wilderness. At evening, 
 she assembled her children, and instructed them. 
 She could not bear that ignorance should be their 
 portion, and diligently poured into their minds, the 
 knowledge which she had treasured up in her own. 
 They early learned to love the few books that she 
 possessed, and to revere that piety, which was the 
 source of their parent's happiness. 
 
 Years fled, and the features of the savage land 
 scape, assumed the busy cast of a vigorous set- 
 tlement. Her children, and her children's children 
 grew up, and planted themselves around her, like 
 the stems of the banian. More than fourscore 
 years passed over her, yet she remained firm, use- 
 ful, contented, and wearing on her countenance 
 the same smile which had lighted her through the 
 world. Her descendants of the third generation, 
 became equal in number to the years of her own 
 life. She loved all ; and every one heard from 
 her lips, the teachings of wisdom, and the law of 
 peace. 
 
 At length, Death came for her. As he slowly 
 approached, Time drew a misty curtain over all 
 surrounding things. The love of her first, far 
 home, and the unfulfilled hope to visit it, had been 
 the most deep-set earthly images in her soul. 
 Even that pictured scenery faded away. The 
 
226 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 paternal mansion, with its sweet flower-garden, 
 and musick of falling waters — the school-house, 
 with its merry group — the white spire among the 
 elms — images from childhood, so indelible, were 
 no more remembered. Her children, gathering in 
 tears around her bed, were also forgotten. Yet 
 still they heard her softly murmuring from her 
 dying pillow : " Our Father, who art in heaven." 
 And even when Death smote her, the favourite 
 petition under all the sorrows of her pilgrimage, 
 burst forth, in a clear deep intonation, " Thy will 
 be doner 
 
 The first effectual step towards self-government, 
 is self-knowledge. The law-giver who would 
 adapt his code to the happiness of a people, must 
 inform himself of their history and habits, their 
 dangers, and resources. The physician should 
 know something of the constitution of his patient, 
 as well as of the symptoms of disease, ere he can 
 safely assume the responsibility of his cure. And 
 you, dear young friends, who would be adepts in 
 the science of self-control, must not only take a 
 general view of the infirmities of your nature, but 
 of your individual weaknesses, your tendencies to 
 prejudice, and temptations to evil. Inquire what 
 has been the source of the prevailing errors which 
 have hitherto marked your life. Daily pursue the 
 investigation, until you are intimate with your own 
 peculiarities and motives of conduct. Nightly 
 converse with yourself ere you retire to rest. 
 Thus will you learn where to apply the check, the 
 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 227 
 
 remedy, the encouragement, and with rational hope 
 of success, mark out the path in which you are 
 to travel, and the points where you may indulge 
 repose. 
 
 Self-control is promoted by humility. Pride is 
 a fruitful source of uneasiness. It keeps the mind 
 in disquiet. Too high an opinion of ourselves, 
 involves the desire of impressing others with the 
 same opinion. This is often attended with diffi- 
 culty. If we do not succeed in inspiring them 
 with an equal idea of our own merits, we shall be 
 expecting more deference and regard than they 
 are inclined to pay. So, pride will be disappointed 
 and offended. Possibly we may see others the 
 object of those attentions which were withheld 
 from us. We are sure that they are less worthy 
 than ourselves. Then pride calls in envy and 
 jealousy, who wait in her train, and raises a mutiny 
 in the soul. So, the mind which ought to settle 
 and subside, that the powers which have a right to 
 rule within it, may rise to their just degrees of 
 ascendency, becomes like the " troubled sea, which 
 cannot rest." Humility is the antidote of this evil. 
 As those who have taken the widest range in 
 knowledge, perceive untravelled regions beyond 
 them, to which the " little hour-glass of man's life" 
 is not adequate, so those who have gained the 
 highest ascents in true wisdom, are disposed to 
 take the lowest place at the footstool of God. Sir 
 Francis Bacon, in a devout address to the Almighty, 
 preserved among his manuscripts, says : " Ever 
 
228 SELF-CONTROL. 
 
 when I have ascended before men, I have descend- 
 ed in humiliation before Thee." The great Boer- 
 haave, so distinguished by the attainment of the 
 most serene self-command, was so profoundly 
 humble, that when he heard of any criminal con- 
 demned to execution, he would exclaim : " Who 
 can tell, whether this man is not better than I ? 
 Or if I am better, it is not to be ascribed to myself, 
 but to the goodness of God." The celebrated 
 Elizabeth Smith, whose short life was an unvaried 
 scene of virtue, whose industry vanquished many 
 obstacles to obtain the knowledge of nine lan- 
 guages, and whose translations from the Hebrew 
 and German were the wonder of the learned, 
 gained such an intimate acquaintance with her 
 nature, and so entire a victory over it, that her 
 distinguishing feature was humility, and she was 
 sweetly characterized, as 
 
 " Still unobtrusive, serious, and meek, 
 The first to listen, and the last to speak." 
 
 Self-government is promoted by correct views 
 of life. She who considers it a state where ac- 
 complishments will always ensure admiration, and 
 merit receive full reward — where it is necessary 
 only to embark on the " smooth surface of a sum- 
 mer sea," and gain the port, amid the applauses of 
 favouring spectators — will discover that fancy and 
 fiction have deluded her. She who imagines that 
 its duties may be easily discharged, or their per- 
 formance always appreciated — that virtue will have 
 
SELF-CONTROL. 229 
 
 no foes to resist, and unalloyed happiness flourish 
 in a congenial soil, will find that she has mistaken 
 a state of trial for a stale of reward. She who 
 expects entire consistency from those around, and 
 is astonished that they sometimes misunderstand 
 and grieve her, should look deeper into her own 
 heart, and inquire, why she exacts from others, a 
 perfection which she has not herself attained. Be 
 not satisfied, my dear young friends, until you 
 have gained that equanimity which is not depressed 
 or elated by slight causes ; that dignity which de- 
 scends neither to trifle, nor to be trifled with; and 
 that perseverance in the pursuit of excellence, 
 'which presses onward and upward, as an eagle 
 toward the sun. 
 
 " The highest and most profitable learning," 
 says Thomas a Kempis, " is the knowledge of our- 
 selves. To have a low opinion of our own merits, 
 and to think highly of others, is an evidence of 
 wisdom. Therefore, though thou seest another 
 openly offend, and commit sin, take thence no oc- 
 casion to value thyself for superior goodness, since 
 thou canst not tell how long thou w r ilt be able to 
 persevere in the narrow path of virtue. All men 
 are frail, but thou shouldest reckon none so frail 
 as thyself." 
 
 No self-government is perfect without religion, 
 for since there are agents within us, whose force 
 we may fail to estimate, and which springing sud- 
 denly into action, may destroy the fabrick on which 
 philosophy has laboured for years ; and since we 
 
 20 
 
230 
 
 SELF-CONTROL 
 
 have not the gift of prescience, and cannot always 
 measure the future by the past, is it not safest to 
 rely for aid on the Former of our bodies, the 
 Father of our spirits, who hath said, " if any lack 
 wisdom, and ask of Him, he giveth liberally and 
 upbraideth not?" 
 
 Let us rest our self-control on the belief that He 
 is able to do all things — that he will do all things 
 well — that even evil shall work for the good of 
 those who love him, that nothing can divide us 
 from his care, and that even death cannot hurt 
 those who have the passport to a happy immor- 
 tality. 
 
LETTER XV. 
 
 UTILITY. 
 
 It was a king of Sparta, who counselled that 
 the young should learn, what they would have 
 most occasion to practice, when they reached ma- 
 turity. We praise his wisdom ; yet recede from 
 its guidance. Especially, is female education defi- 
 cient in its adaptation of means to ends. And 
 yet, our province is so eminently practical, that to 
 disjoin acquisition from utility, seems both a 
 greater mistake and a more irreparable misfortune, 
 than for the other sex, to adopt a desultory system. 
 
 Man lives in the eye of the world. He seeks 
 much of his solace from its applause. If unsuc- 
 cessful in one profession, he enters another. If his 
 efforts are frustrated in his native land, he becomes 
 the citizen of a foreign clime. He makes his 
 home on the tossing wave, or traverses the earth 
 from pole to pole. His varieties of situation, give 
 scope for varieties of knowledge, and call into ac- 
 tion, energies and attainments, which might long 
 have lam dormant, or been considered of little 
 value. It is not thus with woman. Her sphere 
 of quiet duty requires a more quiet training. Its 
 scenery has few changes, and no audience to ap- 
 231 
 
232 UTILITY. 
 
 plaud. It asks the aid of fixed principles, patiently 
 drawn out into their natural, unostentatious results. 
 There was in past times, much discussion re- 
 specting the comparative intellect of the sexes. It 
 seems to have been useless. To strike the bal- 
 ance, is scarcely practicable, until both shall have 
 been subjected to the same method of culture. 
 Man might be initiated into the varieties and mys- 
 teries of needlework, taught to have patience with 
 the feebleness and waywardness of infancy, or to 
 steal with noiseless step, around the chamber of 
 the sick ; and woman might be instigated to con- 
 tend for the palm of science, to pour forth elo- 
 quence in senates, or to " wade through fields of 
 slaughter, to a throne." Yet revoltings of the 
 soul would attend this violence to nature, this 
 abuse of physical and intellectual energy, while 
 the beauty of social order would be defaced, and 
 the fountains of earth's felicity broken up. The 
 sexes are manifestly intended for different spheres, 
 and constructed in conformity to their respective 
 destinations, by Him who bids the oak brave the 
 fury of the tempest, and the Alpine flower lean its 
 cheek on the bosom of eternal snows. But dis- 
 parity need not imply inferiority ; and she of the 
 weak hand and the strong heart, is as deeply ac- 
 countable, for what she has received, as clearly 
 within the cognizance of the " Great Task-Ma- 
 ster's eye," as though the high places of the earth, 
 with all their pomp and glory, awaited her ambi- 
 tion, or strewed their trophies at her feet. 
 
UTILITY. 233 
 
 Females, who turn their existence to no good 
 account, contradict the intention of their Creator. 
 They frustrate both his bounty and their felicity. 
 Publick opinion has not been sufficiently distinct, in 
 its reproofs of their aimless life. It has been held 
 derogatory to the dignity of those who are in the 
 possession of wealth, to understand the more hum- 
 ble departments of domestick industry. Hence, 
 their exceeding helplessness, when by the fluctua- 
 tions of fortune, or the common accidents of life, 
 they are thrown upon their own resources. Their 
 miserable imbecility, in times of trial, has brought 
 that odium upon education itself, which only be- 
 longs to ill-directed education, or to a sentiment of 
 false shame, which should be early rooted out. 
 Useful occupations ought not to be discouraged 
 by the contempt of those, who are not obliged to 
 pursue them for a livelihood. In the ancient re- 
 publicks, the diligence of our sex was honourable. 
 Franklin, had probably in his mind, some model, 
 depicted by the historians and poets of another 
 age, when he said, " I would much rather see a 
 spinning-wheel, than a piano — a shuttle than a 
 parasol — a knitting-needle, than a visiting-card." 
 Perhaps, he detected, even in his own times of 
 greater simplicity, a love of indolence, or display, 
 lurking in the hearts of his fair countrywomen. 
 Perhaps, he reasoned, as a political economist, for 
 the good of his country. In either case, the opin- 
 ion of so shrewd a philosopher, is worthy of some 
 regard. Those employments which tend, evidently, 
 
 20* 
 
234 UTILITY. 
 
 to the comforts, or necessities of existence, are 
 least encumbered with the principle of vanity. 
 
 Ladies, who have attained eminence, as in- 
 structors, have ever early endeavoured to impress 
 on the mind of their pupils, the excellence of con- 
 necting their attainments with utility. The prin- 
 cipal of the Troy Female Seminary, whose per- 
 severing aim to improve her own sex, has been 
 blessed with illustrious success, expresses her de- 
 sire that " some plan of education, should be offered 
 to wealth, and rank, by which female youth might 
 be preserved from contempt of useful labour ; and 
 so accustomed to it, in conjunction with the high 
 objects of literature and the elegant pursuits of the 
 fine arts, as, both from habit and association, to re- 
 gard it as respectable." 
 
 The editor of the " American Ladies' Maga- 
 zine," whose efforts for the support and education 
 of her fatherless children have known no declen- 
 sion, is, both by example and precept, an advocate 
 for the consecration of talents, to high and obvious 
 utility. 
 
 Would that I might succeed in persuading you, 
 my young friends, to strive that all your attain- 
 ments should minister to the happiness of others, 
 as well as your own. Scrutinize the motives that 
 prompt you to excel, either in the sciences, or 
 arts of embellishment. Is it that you may take 
 precedence of your associates ? — or win empty 
 adulation ? The antidote for this malady, is to do 
 nothing, say nothing, be nothing, merely from the 
 
UTILITY. 235 
 
 prompting of vanity, but for the sake of your own 
 radical improvement, and the mental elevation or 
 innocent enjoyment of those, among whom your 
 lot is cast. 
 
 The principle of display should be, as far as 
 possible, disjoined from female education. Until 
 this is attempted, the domestick sphere can 
 scarcely be rationally or prosperously filled, nor 
 will those duties be well discharged, which a re- 
 publick imperiously demands of its daughters. The 
 greatest danger arises, from what we call accom- 
 plislwients. At first view, it seems ill-judged, to 
 devote so much time to attainments, whose exer- 
 cise is incompatible with domestick duties, and 
 which must be laid aside, when the cares of ma- 
 turity assert their dominion. Yet if in their prog- 
 ress, they have exerted aught of beneficial influ- 
 ence on the character, if they have served to soften, 
 to refine, or sublimate the feelings, it is a severe 
 calculation, that would condemn them as value- 
 less. 
 
 Let us bring some of them to the test. When 
 you sing, or take a seat at the piano, inquire 
 whether you expect praise, or are chagrined if you 
 do not obtain it ? whether you imposed a fatiguing 
 quarantine of urgency, ere you would expose your 
 performance ? or whether you were content to 
 sooth and enliven other spirits as w r ell as your 
 own, with those strains of melody, whose percep- 
 tion is a source of bliss, both to earth and heaven. 
 In dancing, is your object to be admired ? or do 
 
236 UTILITY. 
 
 you seek healthful exercise, or improvement in 
 courtesy and grace ? for grace of movement, or as 
 it has been happily styled " the poetry of motion," 
 is of no slight import in woman. Like fine man- 
 ners it aids in winning that influence, which she 
 should consecrate to far higher purposes than per- 
 sonal vanity. For your skill in drawing, do you 
 claim elaborate praise ? or are you pleased simply 
 to illustrate nature, to imbody historical truth, or 
 to catch the intelligence of living features ? for the 
 taste that appreciates the beautiful in nature or in 
 art, is a friend to refinement and religion : and 
 often has the tender soul, by the beauty and glory 
 of creation, been bowed in adoration of the Cre- 
 ator. 
 
 But if the evidence of the utility of accomplish- 
 ments is sometimes uncertain, if even their pro- 
 cess of self-examination is difficult, from the dis- 
 guises which vanity assumes, the solid studies 
 are subject to no such ambiguity. The patient 
 labours of thought and demonstration, the wonders 
 of the orb that we inhabit, the varied annal of man's 
 way from " Eden to this hour," the mysterious 
 mechanism of the frame that modifies the ethereal 
 mind, the structure of that intellect which bears 
 the stamp of immortality, the awful order of the 
 starry heavens, above which we hope to find an 
 enduring mansion, impart discipline as obvious as 
 it is salutary, and prepare for destinies both human 
 and divine. 
 
 Connect with this sure gain of knowledge, an- 
 
UTILITY. 237 
 
 other source of profit, the habit of imparting it. 
 This increases mental wealth, by putting it in cir- 
 culation. A merchant would be found defective 
 in his profession, who after having secured the 
 profit of his labours should permit them to remain 
 unemployed. He would merge his own character, 
 in that of a miser, and pine with poverty, in the 
 midst of abundance. I have no hesitation in pro- 
 nouncing the labour of instruction, more beneficial 
 to the teacher, than even to the pupil. If a young 
 lady, when her term of school-education is com- 
 pleted, should devote a period to the instruction of 
 others, she would find the advantage on her own 
 side, not only in the depth, confirmation, and readi- 
 ness for use, which would enhance the value of 
 her knowledge, but in that acquaintance with hu- 
 man nature, self-command, and reaction of moral 
 training upon herself, which is above all price. 
 
 It is peculiarly important that our sex should 
 have their knowledge deeply rooted in memory 
 during youth. The absorbing nature of those cares 
 which fill their province, in maturity, are wont to 
 forbid their making wide excursions into the realms 
 of science. Even should their leisure admit it, 
 their attention will often be preoccupied by those 
 duties, which springing from the affections, over- 
 power the claims of intellect ; as the banian, striking 
 new roots in earth, while its head aspires to heaven, 
 shuts from the sun the plants that once flourished 
 on the same soil. Necessary knowledge should 
 therefore be thoroughly acquired in youth. It 
 
238 UTILITY. 
 
 should be able to bear the overshadowing of those 
 mightier plants which, drawing nutriment from the 
 heart, spring up with the rapidity of the mush- 
 room, and the height and vigour of the cedar of 
 Lebanon. It should be secured as a capital for 
 life, an annuity not to be reversed. 
 
 Another argument, in favour of making the in- 
 struction of others the crowning point of educa- 
 tion, is derived from those sentiments of benevo- 
 lence, which, if not inherent in our sex, should be 
 cultivated until they become an integral part of 
 character. The more solid and laborious studies, 
 by their direct discipline on the mind, have a visi- 
 ble individual utility. Yet be not satisfied with 
 this, or with any other good which centres solely 
 in self. A selfish woman is more unendurable, 
 and really more blameable, than a selfish man. 
 She more palpably contradicts the will of her 
 Maker. She must of necessity be unhappy. For 
 in proportion to her concentration of enjoyment in 
 self alone, and her exaction of the efforts of others 
 to that end, will be her disappointment and weari- 
 ness of spirit. Be not satisfied, therefore, to pos- 
 sess knowledge without diffusing it, that those less 
 favoured than yourselves may share in its bles- 
 sings. Consider its acquisition as imposing a two- 
 fold responsibility, to enjoy and to impart. 
 
 Admit it, therefore, as equally the vocation and 
 the privilege of our sex, to be teachers of good 
 things. Even when the advantages of regular 
 classical culture have been denied, the requisites 
 
UTILITY. 239 
 
 of a profitable instmcter may be obtained by a 
 persevering regimen. Self-educated people often 
 excel in the power of imparting knowledge, as 
 those who find out their own path, take better note 
 of its helps and hinderances. Those who have 
 conquered obstacles by their own unassisted 
 strength, are good pioneers in the realm of know- 
 ledge. As they were not borne thither in a chariot, 
 they will not be apt to foster in others, that listless 
 waiting for a " royal way," which ends where it 
 began. They are often eminently successful in 
 awakening the energy of their pupils, from having 
 fully learned its value themselves. They are well 
 qualified to point out, and to explain difficulty, and 
 to have fellow feeling for those who grapple with 
 it : as the man who acquires a fortune, better 
 knows its worth, than he who idly inherits a patri- 
 mony. 
 
 There is a pleasure in teaching — the high pleas- 
 ure of seeing others made better, and of receiving 
 their gratitude. There is not a more interesting 
 circumstance in the life of Madam de Genlis, than 
 her fondness for instructing, when only eight years 
 old, the poor little children, who gathered around 
 the chateau of her father. They came thither to 
 gather rushes and to play, and she leaning from 
 the window of her apartment, assiduously taught 
 them the catechism, the principles of musick, and 
 to repeat poetry. " This," she simply expresses 
 it, " was all I then knew myself." So much en- 
 gaged, did she become in this kind office, that she 
 
240 UTILITY. 
 
 was accustomed to let herself down by a cord, 
 from the open casement of her chamber, a distance 
 of several feet, to the terrace, that she might be 
 nearer the ignorant group, whom she was anxious 
 to improve. " My little scholars," she says, 
 " ranged along the wall below me, amidst reeds 
 and rushes, looked up and listened to me with the 
 most profound attention." What a subject for a 
 painter. This beautiful and zealous teacher of 
 eight years of age, indulged also her benevolence, 
 by distributing among her pupils, such rewards of 
 merit as she could obtain, passing in this favourite 
 employment, all that part of the day, in which her 
 governess, being engaged in writing, suffered her 
 to follow her own inclinations. What stronger 
 proof of an amiable and benevolent nature could 
 be given, than this uninfluenced, unapplauded de- 
 votedness, in early childhood, of its hour of play 
 and the contents of its purse, to the encourage- 
 ment of neglected and miserable villagers ? 
 
 If some young lady of education and affluence 
 could be induced to devote a portion of her time 
 to the work of teaching, she would help to remove 
 from it the odium of being always a mercenary 
 profession. There was one, in this part of New 
 England, moving in the highest grade of society, 
 elevated by genius, and a classick and refined 
 education, who would have consecrated all her 
 powers and sources of influence, to the work of 
 instruction. The desire was not hastily imbibed. 
 She had cherished it from childhood, alleging 
 
UTILITY. 241 
 
 as a reason, the belief that " she could in that way 
 he more useful than in any other." In the bloom 
 of youth, surrounded with all that could render it 
 delightful, she writes, " I can think of no pleasanter 
 or more useful way of spending life, than in teach- 
 ing. I have not made this decision suddenly. I 
 have pondered it in my mind, and determined as 
 soon as I shall have learned enough, to fix myself 
 as a teacher." But she was suddenly removed, 
 where there was no need that she should either 
 teach, or be taught, save in the science of angels. 
 An interesting volume, the " Literary Remains of 
 Martha Day," daughter of the President of Yale 
 College, in Connecticut, announces to the com- 
 munity the loss it has sustained by her removal, 
 and incites the favoured daughters of our favoured 
 land to imitate her example. 
 
 Patriotism requires that every effort in our 
 power, be made for the good of our country. Look 
 at Prussia, that model for national education, where 
 a teacher is provided for every ten of her children, 
 and whose king nobly estimates it as the highest 
 privilege of royalty, to be the father of his people. 
 Among his many laws, making provision for the 
 instruction of his realm, moral and religious train- 
 ing take precedence of intellectual ; and it is glo- 
 rious to hear the voice of a monarch enforcing the 
 precept that " the first vocation of every school, is to 
 train up the young in such a manner, as to implant 
 in their minds a knowledge of the relation of man 
 to God, and at the same time to excite and foster 
 
 21 
 
242 UTILITY. 
 
 Doth the will and the strength to govern their lives 
 after the spirit and precepts of Christianity." The 
 Normal schools, or those established for the edu- 
 cation of teachers, are nurseries of every virtuous 
 habit. A brief extract from the regulations of those 
 which exist in the obscure villages of Lustadie 
 and Pyritz, will evince the spirit of simple and 
 unaffected piety, that pervades all the similar in- 
 stitutions : " This is intended to be a Christian 
 school, founded in the spirit of the Gospel. It 
 aspires to resemble a village household of the sim- 
 plest kind, and to unite its members into one fami- 
 ly. The piety which it enforces, is to be known 
 by purity of manners — by sincerity in word and 
 deed — by love of God and of his word— by love 
 of our neighbour — by willing obedience to supe- 
 riors and masters — by brotherly harmony among 
 the pupils. A thorough knowledge of the duties 
 of a teacher is acquired by long study of the prin- 
 ciples and elements — by learning what is necessa- 
 ry and really useful in that vocation — by habits of 
 reflection and voluntary labour — by constant appli- 
 cation to lessons — by incessant repetition and 
 practice — by regular industry, and well-ordered 
 activity, according to the commandment, ' pray 
 and work. 1 " 
 
 " Their whole fabrick rests on the sacred basis 
 of Christian love," says M. Cousin, to whom we 
 are indebted for a luminous investigation of the 
 system of instruction in Prussia, and who, by his 
 noble zeal in the cause of education, has won a 
 
UTILITY. 243 
 
 more illustrious distinction than that of philosopher, 
 statesman, or peer of France. 
 
 There is still another point, in which the schools 
 of Prussia, may be cited as examples. Educa- 
 tion is there imparted, not as the instrument of 
 restless ambition, or worldly advancement, but as 
 the capacity of patient usefulness, and contentment 
 with the lot which Heaven has appointed. Here, 
 the maxim that " knowledge is power," seems to 
 have received the grosser interpretation, that it is 
 money also. There, to use the words of the ac- 
 complished lady, by whom this Report of National 
 Instruction is translated, " the unfailing ends of a 
 good education are the gentle and kindly sympa- 
 thies — the sense of self-respect, and of the respect 
 of fellow-men — the free exercise of the intellectual 
 faculties — the power of regulating the habits and 
 the business of life, so as to extract the greatest 
 possible portion of comfort, out of small means — 
 the refining and tranquillizing enjoyment of the 
 beautiful in nature and art, and the kindred per- 
 ception of the beauty and nobility of virtue — the 
 strengthening consciousness of duty fulfilled, and 
 to crown the whole, that ' peace which passeth all 
 understanding.' " 
 
 Should any of my readers inquire, why I have 
 indulged in such digressions, I have no apology 
 to offer. The unspeakable importance of educa- 
 tion, and the strong desire to persuade my sex to 
 become almoners of its blessings, merited more 
 space than I have appropriated, and more elo- 
 
244 UTILITY. 
 
 quence than I can command. If you have a love 
 of the country that gave you birth, my dear young 
 friends, and if you have not, your code both of 
 virtues and affections is most imperfect, are you 
 not willing for a season to devote yourself to the 
 culture of her children, as some remuneration for 
 the privilege of dwelling safely under her au- 
 spices ? Will you not at least, become the in- 
 structer of all in your own family, who may be 
 made better by your influence ? Will you not 
 teach through your own example, the happiness 
 that goodness and piety convey, the gracefulness 
 they impart, the assimilation they give to angelick 
 natures, and thus win all hearts to your tutelage ? 
 Our sex in point of situation, have facilities as 
 teachers, which are not possessed by the other. 
 Political prejudices, and the asperities of religious 
 controversy, sometimes fetter the operations of 
 men and obstruct their access to the mind. On 
 this " debateable ground," woman is not supposed 
 to stand. A young lady, perhaps more effectually 
 than any other character, has power to cast the 
 " oil of kindness," upon the waters of discord. Her 
 locality need not be obstructed, or circumscribed 
 by the " quick set hedge" of party jealousies. She 
 may gather the lambs that wander, and no lion will 
 lay waste her fold. That she will not decline this 
 hallowed service, is already promised, by one who 
 has for many years consecrated distinguished in- 
 tellect, acquirements and piety, to the successful 
 instruction of youth. " Let the statisticks of the 
 
UTILITY. 245 
 
 wants of our country be sent abroad," says Miss 
 Beecher, in her Essay on the Education of Female 
 Teachers, " let the cry go forth, ' Whom shall we 
 send and who will go for us V and from amid the 
 green hills and white -villages of New England, 
 hundreds of voices would respond, 'Here am I, 
 send me,' while kindred voices, through the whole 
 length of the land, would echo the reply." 
 
 A lady of education and refinement was led by 
 the tide of emigration to a western home. She 
 determined to keep constantly in view the diffusion 
 of intelligence and morality, in the community 
 where her lot was cast. By the rapid growth, 
 peculiar to this new world, a partial wilderness 
 suddenly became a thriving settlement. When 
 she was released from the absorbing cares con- 
 nected with the nurture of an infant family, she re- 
 solved to devote more time ; io the instruction of 
 others. Her husband kindly encouraging the noble 
 design, built her a school-house in their garden. 
 Thither she gathered the young, and taught them 
 to be useful and happy. From such as were able, 
 she received the usual stipend for tuition, and de- 
 voted it to the purchase of a library for the school, 
 or to valuable books, intended as parting gifts for 
 exemplary pupils. Even from the poor, she took 
 some compensation, that they might not feel hum- 
 bled by too much inequality, though it was more 
 than returned to them, in the form of some pres- 
 ent, adapted to stimulate their progress in im- 
 provement. She paid particular attention to the 
 
 21* 
 
246 
 
 UT I LI TY. 
 
 instruction of those, who were likely to be em- 
 ployed as teachers of village-schools. Her 
 daughters, as they rose around her, caught the 
 same hallowed zeal, and were anxious to instruct 
 in various departments, and the good devised 
 and wrought out by this " mother in Israel," will 
 doubtless be felt by unborn generations. 
 
 I venture to propose that some young lady, in 
 the enjoyment of affluence, should perform the 
 noble charity of commencing a Normal school, 
 and instructing, or causing to be instructed, ten of 
 her own sex, until they shall, in their turn, be qual- 
 ified to instruct others. No costly endowment 
 need be connected with an establishment of this 
 nature. The pupils might probably be gathered 
 in the immediate vicinity. 
 
 If they have received the common rudiments of 
 education, two or three hours of personal attend- 
 ance daily, with perhaps, the care of a substitute, 
 for two or three more, would, with the adoption of 
 a judicious system, prepare in the course of three 
 years, a class of profitable teachers, for elementary 
 schools, and even for higher departments. Why 
 need any formiable expense be involved in such 
 an arrangement ? If some of the recipients were 
 able to pay a small price for tuition, it might aid 
 in the purchase of books for their use. If they 
 were not, the bounty of our land, is never invoked 
 in vain. The author of the " Annals of Educa- 
 tion," to whose perseverance and research, both 
 his country and the world are indebted, says : " We 
 
UTILITY. 247 
 
 hope ere long, to see associations of females, en- 
 gaged in supporting and preparing those of their 
 own sex for the office of teacher. Recent calcu- 
 lations in a city of England, have led to the belief, 
 that the efforts of one female in a benevolent ob- 
 ject were equivalent to those of thirteen of the 
 other sex." 
 
 The preparation of competent teachers for our 
 village-schools, would be a lasting benefit to the 
 -country. The evil in our remote districts, has 
 been incalculable, from illiterate teachers coming 
 in contact with the mind in its season of early de 
 velopment and indelible impression. Would it 
 be beneath the notice of a lady to bestow some 
 systematick instruction on such young females as 
 are destined to assist in the domestick care of little 
 children, and in whom moral integrity, correct 
 language and manners, and a sense of religious 
 obligation, have a deeper value and wider influ- 
 ence, than would be readily conceded or imagined ? 
 
 But I would not prescribe the particular forms 
 in which benevolent young ladies, having the com- 
 mand of time, knowledge or wealth, may subserve 
 the cause of happiness and virtue, by acting as 
 teachers. Their own ingenuity and the circum- 
 stances in which they are placed, will best define 
 the channels, where this hallowed charity may 
 flow. Let them, however, adopt teaching as their 
 charity, and give to it regularly and laboriously, 
 some portion of every day. It need not interfere 
 with other employments and pleasures. Even if 
 
248 UTILITY. 
 
 it should curtail some amusement in which youth 
 delights, their payment will be the gold of con- 
 science, and those radiant and priceless memories, 
 that visit the death-bed. If it prove a self-denial, 
 it will be a glorious one. And when they stand 
 before that bar, where all shall be summoned, if it 
 appear that one fellow-being has been snatched 
 from vice, or fortified in virtue, or anchored on the 
 " Rock of salvation," through their instructions, 
 what can the world which shall be burned as a 
 scroll, or alt the glory thereof, which shall vanish 
 as a vision, offer in exchange for such a testimony ? 
 
LETTER XVI. 
 
 MOTIVES TO PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 We are impelled, my dear young friends, to 
 higher degrees of intellectual and moral effort, by 
 the continually advancing character of the age in 
 which we live. It does not permit the mind to 
 slumber at its post, with any hope of regaining a 
 respectable rank in the career of knowledge. Its 
 literary gymnasium has no dormitories. It stamps 
 with deficiency, what was considered a good edu- 
 cation, twenty, or even ten years since. She who 
 was then held accomplished, if she has remained 
 content with her early attainments, will find her- 
 self painfully surpassed by the spirit of the times. 
 The usury of our day, does not permit the " talent 
 to be long wrapped in a napkin." Those studies 
 which formerly marked the closing grade of edu- 
 cation, are now familiar to the infant scholar. So 
 much has knowledge divested itself of mystery 
 and of majesty, that " the sucking child plays up- 
 on the hole of the asp, and the weaned child puts 
 his hand upon the cockatrice den." Every thing 
 urges us onward, in the pilgrimage of mind. The 
 standard is constantly elevating itself, and she who 
 
250 MOTIVES TO 
 
 would not be left behind, must take pains to main- 
 tain a corresponding elevation. 
 
 In the department of benevolence also, as well 
 as in that of intellect, there is an equally percepti- 
 ble progress. Not many years since, the sphere 
 of missionary labour was first explored. Now ''its 
 field is the world." The vast machinery, by which 
 the Scriptures are dispensed to heathen climes, 
 was then undiscovered and unimagined. Many of 
 those charities, which stoop to every variety of 
 human wretchedness, were either unborn or in 
 their infancy. Now the economy of charity is 
 unfolded to the young. The most gifted minds 
 simplify wisdom to the comprehension of children. 
 The bread of eternal life is mingled with the milk 
 of babes. Those who enter upon the stage of 
 action stand upon vantage-ground, and are enrich- 
 ed with the concentrated experience of many 
 generations. 
 
 Our individual privileges, as well as the ener- 
 getick character of the age, demand persevering 
 exertions. We are enriched with gifts to which 
 our ancestors were strangers. Our responsibilities 
 are proportionably great. The useful arithmetical 
 position, impressed in our childhood, that " more 
 requires more, and less requires less," admits of a 
 moral application. The temple of science has 
 been thrown open, and its sanctuary, so long hidden 
 from the eye of woman, unveiled. She is invited 
 to enter. In the olden time, our grandmothers 
 received instruction, in the uses of the needle, the 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 251 
 
 varieties of culinary science, and the naked ele- 
 ments of piety. They were expected to exhibit 
 the knowledge drawn from these few sources, in 
 its most patient, persevering, and practical results. 
 It would have been counted an " iniquity to be 
 punished by the judges," had they spoiled their 
 tent-stitch tapestry — or failed in the chymistry of 
 a pudding, or erred in the verbiage of their cat- 
 echism. Most faithful were they, in the " few 
 things" intrusted to their care. We who, in being 
 "made rulers over many things," are deeply in- 
 debted to the liberality of the age, have need of 
 quickened and zealous industry, to render a cor- 
 respondent return. 
 
 The shelter and protection of a free govern- 
 ment also demand awakened and grateful energies. 
 Since its welfare is involved in the virtue and 
 intelligence of its subjects, the character and 
 habits of every member of its great family, are of 
 importance. I imagine that I hear from the lips of 
 some of the young and sprightly of my sex, the 
 inquiry, " Why need we concern ourselves in the 
 affairs of politicians ? what share have we in the 
 destinies of our country?" The same share that 
 the rill has in the rivulet, and the rivulet in the sea. 
 Should every little shaded streamlet tarry at its 
 fountain-head, where would be the river, that dis- 
 penses fertility — the ocean, bearing commerce and 
 wealth upon its never-resting tide. Woman pos- 
 sesses an agency which the ancient republicks nev- 
 er discovered. The young fountains of the mind are 
 
252 MOTIVES TO 
 
 given in charge to her. She can tinge them with 
 sweetness or bitterness, ere they have chosen the 
 channels where to flow, or learned to murmur their 
 story to the time-worn pebbles. Greece, that 
 disciple and worshipper of wisdom, neglected to 
 appreciate the value of the feebler sex, or to be- 
 lieve that they, who had the moulding of the whole 
 mass of mind in its first formation, might help to 
 infuse a principle of permanence into national 
 existence. Rome, in her wolf-nursed greatness, 
 in her " fierce democracy," in the corruption of 
 her imperial purple, despised the moral strength 
 that lay hidden under physical weakness. But 
 our country has conceded every thing ; the bles- 
 sings of education, the equality of companionship, 
 the luxury of benevolence, the confidence of a 
 culturer's office to those young buds of being, in 
 whom is her wealth and her hope. What does 
 she require of our sex, in return for these courte- 
 sies 1 Has she not a right to expect that we give 
 our hands to every cause of peace and truth — 
 that we nurse the plants of temperance and purity 
 — that w T e frown on every inroad of disorder and 
 vice — that we labour in all places where our lot 
 may be cast, as gentle teachers of wisdom and 
 charity, and that we hold ourselves, in domestick 
 privacy, the guardians of those principles which 
 the sage defends in the halls of legislation, and 
 the priest of Jehovah upon the walls of Zion ? 
 
 Gratitude for the religion of Jesus Christ 
 should inspire an unwavering zeaL Beside the 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 253 
 
 high hope of salvation, which we share in com- 
 mon with all who embrace the Gospel, our obliga- 
 tions to it, as a sex, are peculiar and deep. It has 
 broken down the vassalage which was enforced 
 even in the most polished heathen climes. Its hu- 
 mility hath persuaded men to give honour to "the 
 weaker vessel." The depressed condition of our 
 sex in classick Greece, is familiar to all who read 
 the pages of history. Though her epick poet 
 portrayed, in radiant colours, an Andromache and a 
 Penelope, yet they were but the imagery of fiction, 
 and the situation of woman in real life was scarce- 
 ly a grade above that of a slave. Even in Athens, 
 the " eye of Greece," Thucydides, her most pro- 
 found and faithful historian, asserts, that " the best 
 woman is she of whom the least can be said, either 
 in the way of good or harm." Her degradation 
 into a cipher accords with their estimation of her 
 powers, and the place they intended her to fill in 
 creation. The brutality with which she is still 
 treated in pagan lands, and the miseries which 
 make her life a burden, cause her to deplore the 
 birth of a female infant, with the same unnatural 
 grief that the ancient Transi cherished, who, ac- 
 cording to Herodotus, " assembled to weep when 
 a child entered the world, on account of the evils 
 of that existence into which he was ushered ; while 
 they celebrated funerals with joy, because the de- 
 ceased was released from all human calamities." 
 That policy, which, for ages, regarded woman as 
 toys of fancy for a moment, and then slaves for 
 
 22 
 
254 MOTIVES TO 
 
 ever, so vile as to be shut from the consecrated 
 temple on earth, and so devoid of soul as to be in- 
 capable of an entrance into heaven, is " abolished 
 by Him, who hath made both one, and broken 
 down the middle wall of partition between us." 
 Double cause, then, hath woman to be faithful to 
 her Master ; to be always longest at his cross and 
 earliest at his sepulchre. Let us earnestly strive 
 not to live altogether " to ourselves, but unto Him 
 who hath called us to glory and virtue." 
 
 By the shortness of life, we are also admonished 
 to perpetual industry. Where are those with 
 whom we took sweet counsel, who walked hand 
 in hand with us, beneath the sunbeams of youth's 
 cloudless morning ? The haunts of the summer 
 ramble, the fireside-seats of winter's communion, 
 reply, " They are not luith us." The grave answers 
 the question, " They are here /" Doth it not also 
 add in a hoarse and hollow murmur, " Thou also, 
 shalt be with me ?" How often, in the registers 
 of mortality, do we see the date of the early smit- 
 ten. How often is the fair hand, that had plucked 
 only life's opening flowers, withdrawn from the 
 grasp of love, and stretched out in immoveable 
 coldness. How often is the unfrosted head laid 
 down on a mouldering pillow, to await the resur- 
 rection. The firmest hold on time, is like the 
 frail rooting of the flower of grass. The longest 
 life has been likened by those who review it, to a 
 dream, fleeting and indistinct. The present mo- 
 ment is all of which we have assurance. Let us 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 255 
 
 mark it with the diligence of a deeply-felt respon- 
 sibility. Let us learn from the tomb its oft-re- 
 peated, yet too unheeded lesson : " What thine 
 hand flndeth to do, do with thy might ;" for with 
 me, to whom thou art hastening, is " neither wis- 
 dom, nor knowledge, nor device." 
 
 The assurance that this is a state of probation, 
 should give vigour to virtue, and solemnity to truth. 
 Every hour assumes a fearful responsibility when 
 we view it as the culturer of an immortal harvest. 
 Time is the seed-planter of Eternity, and every 
 winged moment does his work and will have its 
 wages. Here we are but in the childhood of our 
 existence. This was deeply realized by that great 
 philosopher to whom the universe unfolded its 
 mysterious laws, and light, that most subtile ele- 
 ment, revealed its mechanism, who held commun- 
 ion with Nature in her majesty, as the prophet 
 walked on Sinai with his God. In the wisdom 
 of his heaven-taught humility, he said, that his 
 whole life seemed but as the play of children, 
 among the sands and bubbles of the seashore. 
 The belief that " He who knoweth our frame," 
 keepeth us here in his fatherly school, that its dis- 
 cipline may qualify us to become students with 
 angels, should incite us not only to discharge duty, 
 but to sustain adverse appointments with an un- 
 shrinking spirit. We should ever remember that 
 this is our trial state, and that trials, more power- 
 fully than pleasures, ripen the fruits of righteous- 
 ness. " The good things which belong to pros- 
 
256 MOTIVES TO 
 
 perity may be wished, but the good things that 
 belong to adversity are to be admired," said Sen- 
 eca : or to use the clearer language of Bacon, 
 that greater than Seneca, " the virtue of prosperi- 
 ty is temperance, but the virtue of adversity is for- 
 titude, and the last is the more sublime attain- 
 ment." Let us strive to pass calmly under the 
 storm, or to tread the miry path without pollution, 
 because we are travellers to our Father's house, 
 where nothing can enter that defileth. This world 
 was evidently not intended for a state, where the 
 immortal mind could receive full gratification. To 
 resist evil, to fulfil obligation, to partake cheer- 
 fully of finite good, yet to feel its disproportion to 
 our own boundless desires, to submit to the re- 
 finer's process in the furnace of affliction, and ar- 
 dently to seek fitness for an ethereal home, is per- 
 ceived to be our principal business and highest 
 wisdom. Elevated by such contemplations, suf- 
 ferings and labours will seem light. Calumny and 
 injustice will be borne with patience, for the praise 
 or dishonour of men is an air-bubble to those who 
 are bound to an unerring tribunal, where " every 
 thought is made manifest." 
 
 The sports and griefs of a child, seem to man- 
 hood as folly. Yet amid these sports and sor- 
 rows, he is cherishing the tempers which are to go 
 with him through life, and form its happiness or 
 wo. So, the pursuits of men, their love of variety, 
 their eagerness for wealth, their bloody strife aftei 
 honour, their agony when these rainbow-promises 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 257 
 
 fade, are folly to the eye of angels. Yet by the 
 agency of such pursuits and disappointments are 
 those dispositions confirmed, which either fit to 
 dwell with angels, or exclude from their society 
 for ever. 
 
 The objects that now agitate or delight us, must 
 soon perish. But the habits of mind which they 
 generate, the affections which they mature, are 
 eternal. They go with us over the " swelling of 
 Jordan," when, of all the riches which we have 
 gathered, we can carry nothing away. The har- 
 mony of soul, which prepares for intercourse with 
 "just men made perfect," the love of holiness, the 
 spirit of praise, which constitute the temper and 
 the bliss of heaven, must be commenced below ; 
 so that not the scenes through which we pass, but 
 the impressions which those scenes make on the 
 soul, are to be desired, or deprecated. Ah ! who 
 is sufficiently aware of the importance of this brief 
 existence ? Who is that " faithful and wise 
 steward," whom his Lord, coming even at mid- 
 night, shall find prepared ? 
 
 The consciousness of immortality is both a 
 prompting and sustaining motive of immense in- 
 fluence. To do this, or to avoid that — not from 
 considerations of personal interest, but because 
 we are to live for ever — is worthy of a being, 
 marked out by his Creator, for a 
 
 " Sky-born, sky-guided, sky-returning race." 
 
 We are too prone to be absorbed, either by the 
 
 22* 
 
258 MOTIVES TO 
 
 things of this life, or by gloomy views of its ter- 
 mination, pressed on us by the departure of some 
 endeared relative or friend. We busy ourselves 
 more with the part which dieth, than with that 
 which is immortal. Sometimes we array Death 
 with a transforming power, or trust that the dis- 
 eases which are his heralds, may bring a repent- 
 ance able to atone for the errors and omissions of 
 many years. He often steals unawares upon his 
 victim, leaving no time for sigh or prayer. His 
 office is to sunder the spirit from the clay, not to 
 reform, or prepare it for heaven. He takes the 
 soul as he finds it. It is life which seals our cre- 
 dentials for the bliss or wo of eternity. We are 
 accustomed to anticipate the ministry of death 
 with fear. I would say to you, rather fear life ; 
 for according to the character of that life, will death 
 be to you either the king of terrors, or the herald 
 of unspeakable joy : 
 
 " Death hath no dread, but what frail life imparts." 
 
 We think too much of the dark gate, through 
 which we pass into the eternal temple, and too 
 little of the pilgrimage by which our mansion in 
 that temple is determined. Earthly prosperity 
 should be estimated by its influence on the soul. 
 What we here term adversities, may in reality be 
 blessings. When we cast off these vestments of 
 clay, perhaps they may come in beautiful garments, 
 to welcome us to everlasting habitations. Here, 
 we spoke of them as evil messengers ; in the court 
 
PERSEVERANCE. 259 
 
 of heaven, we may perchance recognise them, as 
 " angels sent on errands full of love." 
 
 By the combined influence therefore of intellect- 
 ual, moral and religious obligation, by the unrest- 
 ing voice of Time, Judgment, and Eternity, we are 
 impelled to diligence, perseverance and zeal in 
 duty, urged to " forget the things that are behind, 
 and reach forward toward those that are before, 
 and press onward to the mark, for the prize of the 
 high calling of God, in Christ Jesus our Lord." 
 
 And now, my daughters, farewell ! In pursuing 
 with you, objects of tender and high concern, my 
 heart has been drawn towards you, with something 
 of a mother's love. The hand that traces these 
 lines, will soon moulder in dust ; and the eye that 
 peruses them, however radiant with hope, or bril- 
 liant in beauty, must wear the seal of clay. 
 Though we never meet in the flesh, yet at that 
 day when the " dead, small and great, shall stand 
 before God," may it be found that we have so com- 
 muned in spirit, as to aid in the blessed pilgrimage 
 to " glory — honour — immortality — eternal life." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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