To Mi&longs;s ANNA WILLIAMS.
Harmony-Grove.
DEAR ANNA,

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Your enlivening letter re&longs;tored us, in
&longs;ome mea&longs;ure, to your &longs;ociety; or at lea&longs;t alleviated
the pain of your ab&longs;ence.

I am glad you attended Commencement. It
was a new &longs;cene, and con&longs;equently extended
your ideas. I think you rather &longs;evere on the
cla&longs;&longs;ical gentlemen. We &longs;imple country-folks
mu&longs;t not pre&longs;ume to arraign their ta&longs;te, who&longs;e
learning and abilities render them con&longs;picuous
on the literary &longs;tage. They, doubtle&longs;s, write on
&longs;ubjects be&longs;t adapted to their capacities. As for
the follies of fa&longs;hion, I think the gentlemen are
under obligations to the ladies for adopting them;
&longs;ince it gives exerci&longs;e to their genius and pens.

You were tired, you &longs;ay, with plea&longs;ure. I believe
tho&longs;e di&longs;&longs;ipating &longs;cenes, which greatly exhilarate
the &longs;pirits, call for the whole attention, and
oblige us to exert every power, are always fatiguing.

Plea&longs;ures of a calmer kind, which are moderately
enjoyed, which enliven rather than exhau&longs;t,
and which yield a &longs;erenity of mind on reflection,
are the mo&longs;t durable, rational, and &longs;atisfying.
Plea&longs;ure is the mo&longs;t alluring object which is presented
to the view of the young and

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inexperienced. Under various forms it courts our attention;
but, while we are &longs;till eager in the pur&longs;uit,
it eludes our gra&longs;p. Its fa&longs;cinating charms deceive
the imagination, and create a bower of bli&longs;s
in every di&longs;tant object. But let us be careful not
to &longs;ix our affections on any thing which bears
this name, unle&longs;s it be founded on virtue, and
will endure the &longs;evere&longs;t &longs;crutiny of examination.

Our honored mamma, and all your friends
here, are impatient for your return. They unitedly
long to embrace, and bid you welcome to
the&longs;e &longs;eats of &longs;implicity and ea&longs;e: but none more
ardently, than your affectionate &longs;i&longs;ter,

To Mi&longs;s MATILDA FIELDING.
Boston.
DEAR MATILDA,

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Anxious to make the be&longs;t po&longs;&longs;ible u&longs;e
of the education I have received; and fully impressed
with the idea, that the human mind is
capable of continual improvements, it is my constant
endeavour to extract honey from every
flower which falls in my way, or, to &longs;peak without
a figure, to derive advantage from every incident.
Pur&longs;uant to the advice of our excellent
Preceptre&longs;s, I keep this perpetually in view;
and am therefore di&longs;appointed when defeated in
the attempt.

This afternoon I have been in company with
three ladies, celebrated for their beauty and wit.
One of them, I think, may ju&longs;tly claim the reputation
of beauty. To a fini&longs;hed form, a fair
complexion, and an engaging, animating countenance
are added. Yet a con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of superior
charms was apparent in her deportment;
and a &longs;upercilious air counteracted the effects of
her per&longs;onal accompli&longs;hments. The two others
were evidently more indebted to art than to nature
for their appearance. It might ea&longs;ily be
di&longs;covered that paint con&longs;tituted all the delicacy
of their complexion!

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What a pity, that &longs;o many are deceived in their
ideas of beauty! Certain it is, that artificial additions
&longs;erve rather to impair than increa&longs;e its
power. “Who can paint like nature?” What
hand is &longs;kilful enough to &longs;upply her defects?
Do not tho&longs;e who attempt it always fail, and
render them&longs;elves di&longs;gu&longs;ting? Do they not really
injure what they &longs;trive to mend; and make it
more indifferent than u&longs;ual, when. dive&longs;ted of its
temporary embelli&longs;hments? Beauty cannot possibly
maintain its &longs;way over its mo&longs;t ob&longs;equious
votaries, unle&longs;s the manners and the mind unitedly
contribute to &longs;ecure it. How vain then is
this &longs;ubterfuge! It may deceive the eye, and
gain the flattery of the prattling coxcomb; but
accumulated neglect and mortification inevitably
await tho&longs;e who tru&longs;t in the wretched alternative.

From their good &longs;en&longs;e, I had been led to
expect the greate&longs;t entertainment. I therefore
waited impatiently till the fir&longs;t compliments were
over, and conver&longs;ation commenced.

But, to my extreme regret, I found it to consist
of ludicrous in&longs;inuations hackneyed je&longs;ts, and
&longs;atirical remarks upon others of their acquaintance
who were ab&longs;ent. The pretty fellows of
the town were critici&longs;ed; and their own adventures
in &longs;hopping were related with &longs;o much minuteness,
hilarity, and glee, that I blu&longs;hed for the
frivolous levity of tho&longs;e of my &longs;ex, who could

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&longs;ub&longs;titute buffoonery for wit, and the effu&longs;ions of
a perverted imagination for that refined and improving
conver&longs;ation, which a well cultivated
mind and a correct ta&longs;te are calculated to afford!

If, &longs;aid I to my&longs;elf, this be the beauty and
the wit of poli&longs;hed &longs;ociety, re&longs;tore me again to
the native &longs;implicity and &longs;incerity of Harmony-Grove!

I took my leave as &longs;oon as politene&longs;s would
allow; and left them to animadvert upon me.
Independent for happine&longs;s on the prai&longs;e or censure
of &longs;uperficial minds, let me ever be con&longs;cious
of meriting approbation, and I &longs;hall re&longs;t contented
in the certain pro&longs;pect of receiving it.
Adieu.

To Mi&longs;s SOPHIA MANCHESTER.
Beverly.

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I SYMPATHIZE with you, my dear
Sophia, in the di&longs;appointment you received in
your expectations from beauty and wit.

You may neverthele&longs;s derive advantage from
it. Your refined and delicate ideas rai&longs;e you too
far above the &longs;cenes of common life. They paint
the defects of your inferiors in &longs;uch lively
colours, that the greater part of the community
mu&longs;t be di&longs;plea&longs;ing to you. Few, you &longs;hould
remember, have had the advantages which you
have enjoyed; and &longs;till fewer have your penetrating
eye, correct ta&longs;te, and quick &longs;en&longs;ibility. Let
charity then draw a veil over the foibles of others,
and candour induce you to look on the be&longs;t
and brighte&longs;t &longs;ide.

It is both our duty and intere&longs;t to enjoy life,
as far as integrity and innocence allow; and, in
order to this, we mu&longs;t not &longs;oar above, but accommodate
our&longs;elves to its ordinary &longs;tate. We
cannot &longs;tem the torrent of folly and vanity; but
we can &longs;tep a&longs;ide and &longs;ee it roll on, without suffering
our&longs;elves to be borne down by the &longs;tream.

Empty conver&longs;ation mu&longs;t be di&longs;gu&longs;ting to every
rational and thinking mind; yet, when it
partakes not of malignity, it is harmle&longs;s in its effects,
as the vapour which floats over the mead in

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a &longs;ummer's eve. But, when malice and envy
join to give &longs;cope to detraction, we ought to
avoid their contagion, and decidedly condemn
the effu&longs;ions of the ill-natured merriment which
they in&longs;pire.

Our &longs;ex have been taxed as de&longs;amers. I am
convinced, however, that they are not exclu&longs;ively
guilty; yet, for want of more &longs;ub&longs;tantial matter
of conver&longs;ation, I fear they too often give occasion
for the accu&longs;ation! A mind properly cultivated,
and &longs;tored with u&longs;eful knowledge, will despise
a pa&longs;time which mu&longs;t be &longs;upported at the
expen&longs;e of others. Hence only the &longs;uperficial
and the giddy are reduced to the nece&longs;&longs;ity of
filling the time in which they a&longs;&longs;ociate together,
with the degrading and injurious &longs;ubjects of
&longs;lander. But I tru&longs;t that our improved country-women
are ri&longs;ing far &longs;uperior to this nece&longs;&longs;ity,
and are able to convince the world, that the
American fair are enlightened, generous, and
liberal. The fal&longs;e notions of &longs;exual di&longs;parity, in
point of under&longs;tanding and capacity, are ju&longs;tly
exploded; and each branch of &longs;ociety is uniting
to rai&longs;e the virtues and poli&longs;h the manners of
the whole.

I am, &c.

To Mi&longs;s JULIA GREENFIELD.
Salem.
DEAR JULIA,

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From your recommendation of Mrs. Chapone's
letters; and, what is &longs;till more, from the
character given them by Mrs. Williams, I was
anxious to po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s the book; but, not being able
to procure it here, my clerical brother, who was
fortunately going to Bo&longs;ton, bought and presented
it to me.

I am much gratified by the perufal and flatter
my&longs;elf that I &longs;hall derive la&longs;ting benefit from it.

So intricate is the path of youth, and &longs;o many
temptations lurk around to beguile our feet a&longs;tray,
that we really need &longs;ome &longs;kilful pilot to guide us
through the delu&longs;ive maze. To an attentive and
docile mind, publications of this &longs;ort may afford
much in&longs;truction and aid. They ought, therefore,
to be carefully collected, and diligently perused.

Anxious to make my brother &longs;ome acknowledgment
for his pre&longs;ent, I wrought and &longs;ent him
a pur&longs;e, accompanied with a dedication which I
thought might amu&longs;e &longs;ome of his &longs;olitary moments;
and which, for that purpo&longs;e, I here transcribe
and convey to you.

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To Mi&longs;s LAURA GUILFORD.
Worcester.
DEAR LAURA,

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I have &longs;pent a very agreeable &longs;ummer in
the country; but am now preparing to return
to town. I anticipate, with plea&longs;ure, a restoration
to your &longs;ociety, and that of my other friends
there. I &longs;hould, however, quit the&longs;e rural &longs;cenes
with reluctance, were it not that they are giving
place to the chilling harbingers of approaching
winter. They have afforded charms to me,
which the giddy round of fa&longs;hionable amusements
can never equal. Many, however, think
life in&longs;upportable, except in the bu&longs;tle and diffipation
of a city. Of this number is the volatile
Amelia Parr, whom you know as well as I. So
extreme is her gaiety, that the good qualities of
her mind are &longs;uffered to lie dormant; while the
mo&longs;t re&longs;tle&longs;s pa&longs;&longs;ions are indulged without restraint.
I have ju&longs;t received a letter from her,
which you will &longs;ee to be characteri&longs;tic of her
di&longs;po&longs;ition. I enclo&longs;e that, and my an&longs;wer to it
for your peru&longs;al. Read both with candour; and
believe me ever your's.

To Mi&longs;s HARRIOT HENLY.
[Enclo&longs;ed in the preceding.]
Boston.

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Where are you, Harriot; and what
are you doing? Six long months ab&longs;ent from
the town! What can you find to beguile the
tedious hours? Life mu&longs;t be a burden to you!
How can you employ your&longs;elf? Employ, did I
&longs;ay? Pho! I will not u&longs;e &longs;o vulgar a term! I
meant amu&longs;e! Amu&longs;ement &longs;urely is the prime
end of our exi&longs;tence! You have no plays, no
card-parties, nor a&longs;&longs;emblies that are worth mentioning!
Intolerably heavy mu&longs;t the lagging
wheels of time roll on! How &longs;hall I accelerate
them for you? A new novel may do &longs;omething
towards it! I accordingly &longs;end you one, imported
in the la&longs;t &longs;hips. Foreign, to be &longs;ure; el&longs;e
it would not be worth attention. They have
attained to a far greater degree of refinement in
the old world, than we have in the new; and
are &longs;o perfectly acquainted with the pa&longs;&longs;ions,
that there is &longs;omething extremely amu&longs;ing and
intere&longs;ting in their plots and counter-plots,
operating in various ways, till the dear creatures
are jumbled into matrimony in the prettiest
manner that can be conceived!

We, in this country, are too much in a &longs;tate
of nature to write good novels yet. An

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American novel is &longs;uch a moral, &longs;entimental thing,
that it is enough to give any body the vapours to
read one. Pray come to town as &longs;oon as possible,
and not dream away your be&longs;t days in obscurity
and in&longs;ignificance.

But this boarding &longs;chool; this Harmony-Grove,
where you formerly re&longs;ided, has given
you &longs;trange ideas of the world. With what
raptures I have heard you relate the dull &longs;cenes
in which you were concerned there! I am
afraid that your di&longs;ea&longs;ed ta&longs;te has now come to a
cri&longs;is, and you have commenced prude in earne&longs;t!
But return to your city friends; and we will
lend our charitable a&longs;&longs;i&longs;tance, in re&longs;toring you
to gaiety and plea&longs;ure.

Worcester.
DEAR AMELIA,

Your letter—your rattle, rather, came
to hand ye&longs;terday. I could not avoid &longs;miling at
your erroneous opinions; and, in my turn, beg
leave to expre&longs;s my wonder at your entertainments
in town. True, we have no plays. We
are not obliged by fa&longs;hion to &longs;it, half &longs;uffocated
in a crowd, for the greater part of the night, to
hear the rantings, and &longs;ee the extravagant actions
of the bu&longs;kin heroes, (and tho&longs;e not always

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con&longs;i&longs;tent with female mode&longs;ty to witne&longs;s!) We
have no card-parties, avowedly formed for the
purpo&longs;e of killing time! But we have an agreeable
neighbourhood; among which we can easily
collect a &longs;ocial circle; and per&longs;ons of ta&longs;te,
politene&longs;s and information compo&longs;e it. Here
we enjoy a rational and enlivening conver&longs;ation,
which is at once refined and improving. We
have no a&longs;&longs;emblies, compo&longs;ed of a promi&longs;cuous
crowd of gaudy belles and beaux; many of
whom we &longs;hould de&longs;pi&longs;e in a private company,
and deem unworthy our notice. But we have
genteel balls, the company of which is &longs;elect,
none being admitted but &longs;uch as do honor to
them&longs;elves and each other. The amu&longs;ement is
not protracted till the yawning li&longs;tle&longs;&longs;ne&longs;s of the
company proclaims their incapacity for enjoyment;
but we retire at a &longs;ea&longs;onable hour, and
add to the plea&longs;ure of the evening that of undisturbed
re&longs;t through the night. Of cour&longs;e, we
can ri&longs;e with the fun, and &longs;ip the nectarious
dews, wa&longs;ted in the aromatic gale. We breakfast
before the heat of the day has brought on
a languor, and deprived us of appetite; after
which, we amu&longs;e our&longs;elves with our needles,
books, or mu&longs;ic; recline on the &longs;ofa, or ramble
in the grove, as fancy or convenience directs.
In the &longs;hady bower we enjoy either the luxury
of &longs;olitude, or the plea&longs;ures of &longs;ociety; while
you are, the whole time, in the mid&longs;t of hurry

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and bu&longs;tle. Eager in the cha&longs;e, you fly from
one &longs;cene of di&longs;&longs;ipation to another; but the fatigue
of this cea&longs;ele&longs;s round, and the exertion of
&longs;pirits nece&longs;&longs;ary to &longs;upport it, render the objects
of pur&longs;uit ta&longs;tele&longs;s and in&longs;ipid.

Which mode of life, yours or mine, do you
now think the mo&longs;t rational, and productive of
the greate&longs;t happine&longs;s? The boarding &longs;chool,
which you affect to de&longs;pi&longs;e, has, it is true, formed
my ta&longs;te; and I flatter my&longs;elf that I &longs;hall
never wi&longs;h it altered.

I &longs;hall &longs;oon return to town; but not for pleasure.
It is not in crowds that I &longs;eek it. Adieu.

To Mi&longs;s SOPHIA MANCHESTER.
Concord.
DEAR SOPHIA,

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Having been with my aunt Burchel
for a fortnight pa&longs;t, I have indulged my&longs;elf in
reading novels; with which her library is well
&longs;upplied.

Richard&longs;on's works have occupied a large portion
of the time. What a &longs;urpri&longs;ing command
has this great ma&longs;ter of the pa&longs;&longs;ions over our
feelings! It is happy for his own and succeeding
ages, that he embarked in the cau&longs;e of virtue.
For his influence on the affections of his readers
is &longs;o great, that it mu&longs;t have proved very pernicious,
had he enli&longs;ted on the &longs;ide of vice. Though
I am not much of a novel reader, yet his pen
has operated like magic on my fancy; and &longs;o extremely
was I intere&longs;ted, that I could have dispensed
with &longs;leep or food for the plea&longs;ure I
found in reading him.

By this circum&longs;tance I am more than ever
convinced of the great caution which ought to
be u&longs;ed in peru&longs;ing writings of the kind. How
&longs;ecretly, and how in&longs;idiou&longs;ly may they undermine
the fabric of virtue, by painting vice and folly in
the alluring colours, and with the lively &longs;tyle of

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this ingenious author. The mind &longs;hould be well
informed, and the judgment properly matured,
before young people indulge them&longs;elves in the
unre&longs;trained peru&longs;al of them.

The examples of virtue and noble qualities,
exhibited by the author I have mentioned, are
truly u&longs;eful; but every writer of novels is not a
Richard&longs;on: and what dreadful effects might the
&longs;pecious manners of a Lovelace have on the inexperienced
mind, were they not detected by a
ju&longs;t exhibition of his vices!

The noble conduct of Clementina and Mi&longs;s
Byron are worthy of imitation; while the indifcretion
of Clari&longs;&longs;a, in putting her&longs;elf under the
protection of a libertine, is a warning to every
fair. But both examples are often overlooked.
While the ear is charmed with the &longs;tyle, and
the fancy riots on the luxuriance of de&longs;cription,
which &longs;o intimately blend the charms of virtue
and the fa&longs;cinations of vice; they are not readily
di&longs;tingui&longs;hed by all.

I am not equally plea&longs;ed with all Richard&longs;on's
writings; yet &longs;o multifarious are his excellencies,
that his faults appear but &longs;pecks, which &longs;erve as
&longs;oils to di&longs;play his beauties to better advantage.

Before I went from home I was engaged in
reading a cour&longs;e of hi&longs;tory; but I fear I &longs;hall

[figure description] Page 162.[end figure description]

not return from this flowery field to the dry and
le&longs;s plea&longs;ing path of more laborious &longs;tudies.
This is one di&longs;advantage of novel reading. It
di&longs;&longs;ipates the ideas, relaxes the mind, and renders
it inattentive to the more &longs;olid and u&longs;eful branches
of literature. Adieu.

To Mrs. WILLIAMS.
Boston.
DEAR MADAM,

[figure description] Page 163.[end figure description]

Neither change of place nor &longs;ituation
can alienate my affections from you, or obliterate
my grateful remembrance of your kindne&longs;s.

Your admonitions and coun&longs;els have been the
guide of my youth. The many advantages
which I have already received from them, and
the conde&longs;cending readine&longs;s with which they
were always admini&longs;tered, embolden me to solicit
your direction and advice in a &longs;till more important
&longs;phere. The recommendation of my
parents and friends, &longs;econded by my own inclination,
have induced me to yield my heart and
engage my hand to Mr. Sylvanus Farmington,
with who&longs;e character you are not unacquainted.
Next Thur&longs;day is the era fixed for our union.
O madam, how greatly &longs;hall I need a monitor
like you! Sen&longs;ible of my own imper&longs;ections, I
look forward with diffidence and apprehen&longs;ion,
blended with plea&longs;ing hopes, to this new and
untried &longs;tate!

Your experienced pen can teach me how to
di&longs;charge the duties, divide the cares, and enjoy
the plea&longs;ures, peculiar to the &longs;tation on which I
am entering. Pray extend your benevolence,

[figure description] Page 164.[end figure description]

and communicate your &longs;entiments on female deportment
in the connubial relation. Practi&longs;ing
upon &longs;uch a model, I may &longs;till be worthy the
appellation, which it will ever be my ambition
to de&longs;erve, of your affectionate friend and pupil,

To Mi&longs;s HARRIOT HENLY.
Harmony-Grove.

[figure description] Page 165.[end figure description]

Indeed, my dear Harriot, you are making
an important change of &longs;ituation; a change interesting
to you and your friends; a change
which involves, not only your own happine&longs;s,
but the happine&longs;s of the worthy man whom you
have cho&longs;en, of the family, over which you are
to pre&longs;ide, and perhaps, too, of that with which
you are to be connected.

I rejoice to hear that this connexion, on which
&longs;o much depends, is not ha&longs;tily formed; but
that it is the re&longs;ult of long acquaintance, is
founded on merit, and con&longs;olidated by e&longs;teem.
From characters like yours, mutually de&longs;erving
and excellent, brilliant examples of conjugal virtue
and felicity may be expected. Yet as human
nature is imperfect, liable to errors, and apt
to deviate from the line of rectitude and propriety,
a monitorial guide may be expedient and
u&longs;eful. Your partiality has led you to reque&longs;t
this boon of me; but diffidence of my own abilities
compels me to decline the arduous ta&longs;k.
Neverthele&longs;s, I have it happily in my power to
recommend an abler in&longs;tructor, who has written
profe&longs;&longs;edly upon the &longs;ubject. The American
Spectator, or Matrimonial Preceptor, lately
publi&longs;hed by Mr. David We&longs;t, of Bo&longs;ton,

[figure description] Page 166.[end figure description]

contains all you can wi&longs;h. The judicious compiler
has collected and arranged his materials
with admirable &longs;kill and addre&longs;s. Peru&longs;e this
book, and you will be at no lo&longs;s for coun&longs;els to
direct, and cautions to guard you through the
intricate cares and duties of the connubial life.
The e&longs;&longs;ays are, chiefly, extracted from the mo&longs;t
approved Engli&longs;h writers. The productions of
&longs;o many able pens, properly di&longs;po&longs;ed, and exhibited
in a new and agreeable light, mu&longs;t not
only be entertaining, but u&longs;eful to every reader
of ta&longs;te and judgment. I wi&longs;h this publication
to be con&longs;idered as a nece&longs;&longs;ary piece of furniture
by every hou&longs;ekeeper. The editor has certainly
de&longs;erved well of his country; and Hymen
&longs;hould crown him with unfading garlands.

I &longs;hall vi&longs;it you, my dear Harriot, after the
happy knot (for &longs;uch I flatter my&longs;elf it will
prove) is tied. In the mean time, I &longs;ub&longs;cribe
my&longs;elf, with the mo&longs;t ardent wi&longs;hes for your
pro&longs;perity and happine&longs;s, your &longs;incere friend,

To Mi&longs;s CLEORA PARTRIDGE.
Newbury-Port.

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What think you of wit, Cleora? If you
e&longs;timate it by the worth of your own, you think
it an invaluable jewel. But this jewel is variously
&longs;et. Yours is in the pure &longs;terling gold of
good &longs;en&longs;e: yet, as di&longs;played by &longs;ome, it gli&longs;tens
on the mere tin&longs;el of gaiety, which will not bear
the &longs;crutinizing eye of judgment.

Ye&longs;terday I received a vi&longs;it from a young lady,
lately moved into this neighbourhood, who is reputed
a wit. Her conver&longs;ation reminded me of
Pope's &longs;atirical remark:
“There are, whom Heaven has ble&longs;s'd with &longs;tore of wit;
But want as much again to manage it.”

I found her's to con&longs;i&longs;t in &longs;mart &longs;ayings, lively
repartees, and ludicrous allu&longs;ions.

So &longs;trong was her propen&longs;ity to di&longs;play this
talent, that &longs;he could not re&longs;i&longs;t any temptation
which offered, though it led her to offend again&longs;t
the rules of politene&longs;s and genero&longs;ity. As &longs;ome
per&longs;ons of real genius were pre&longs;ent, topics of
literature and morality were di&longs;cu&longs;&longs;ed. Upon
the&longs;e &longs;he was mute as a &longs;tatue; but whenever
the playfulne&longs;s of her fancy could find a &longs;ubject,
&longs;he was extremely loquacious. This induced me
to &longs;u&longs;pect that the brilliance of her imagination

[figure description] Page 168.[end figure description]

had dazzled her under&longs;tanding, and rendered her
negligent of the more &longs;olid and u&longs;eful acqui&longs;itions
of the mind.

Is it not often the ca&longs;e, that tho&longs;e who are
di&longs;tingui&longs;hed by any &longs;uperior endowment, whether
per&longs;onal or mental, are too much elated by the
con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s of their pre-eminence, and think it
&longs;ufficient to counterbalance every deficiency?

This, Mrs. Williams u&longs;ed to &longs;ay, is owing to
the want of &longs;elf-knowledge; which, if once possessed,
will enable us properly to e&longs;timate our
own characters, and to a&longs;certain with preci&longs;ion
wherein we are defective, as well as wherein we
excel. But it is the misfortune of us, young
people, that we &longs;eldom attain this valuable science,
till we have experienced many of the ills
which re&longs;ult from the want of it. Ambition,
vanity, flattery, or &longs;ome &longs;uch dazzling meteor,
engro&longs;&longs;es our attention, and renders us blind to
more important qualifications.

But to return to this &longs;ame wit, of which I
was &longs;peaking. It is certainly a very dangerous
talent, when imprudently managed. None that
we can po&longs;&longs;e&longs;s tends &longs;o directly to excite enmity,
or de&longs;troy friend&longs;hip.

An ill-natured wit is of all characters the mo&longs;t
univer&longs;ally dreaded. People of this de&longs;cription
are always feared, but rarely loved. Humanity
and benevolence are e&longs;&longs;entially nece&longs;&longs;ary to

[figure description] Page 169.[end figure description]

render wit agreeable. Accompanied by the&longs;e, it
cannot fail to plea&longs;e and entertain.

But I believe I cannot give a better proof of
my own wit, than to conclude this &longs;eribble before
your patience is quite exhau&longs;ted by the perusal.
Adieu.

To Mi&longs;s HARRIOT HENLY.
Harmony-Grove.
DEAR HARRIOT,

[figure description] Page 170.[end figure description]

The fir&longs;t moment which I have been able
to &longs;natch from the affectionate embraces of my
honored mamma, and my dear &longs;i&longs;ter Maria, is
devoted to you. Judging by the anxious solicitude
of my own heart, I know you are impatient
to hear of my &longs;afe arrival. It is needle&longs;s to tell
you how cordially I was received. You have
witne&longs;&longs;ed the mutual tenderne&longs;s which actuates
our dome&longs;tic circle. Where this is the governing
principle, it is peculiarly intere&longs;ting to sensibility.
It is extremely exhilarating to the mind
to revi&longs;it, after the &longs;horte&longs;t ab&longs;ence, the place of
our nativity and juvenile happine&longs;s. “There is
&longs;omething &longs;o &longs;educing in that &longs;pot, in which we
fir&longs;t had our exi&longs;tence, that nothing but it can
plea&longs;e. Whatever vici&longs;&longs;itudes we experience in
life, however we toil, or where&longs;oever we wander,
our fatigued wi&longs;hes &longs;till recur to home for
tranquillity. We long to die in that &longs;pot which
gave us birth, and in that plea&longs;ing expectation
opiate every calamity.”[2]

The &longs;atisfaction of returning home, however,
has not obliterated the plea&longs;ure which I enjoyed
on my vi&longs;it to you. Does not a change of &longs;cene

[figure description] Page 171.[end figure description]

and &longs;ituation contribute to the happine&longs;s of life?
The natural love of this variety &longs;eems wi&longs;ely implanted
in the human brea&longs;t; for it enables us to
accommodate our&longs;elves with facility to the different
circum&longs;tances in which we are placed. I believe
that no plea&longs;ures make &longs;o deep an impression
on the memory, as tho&longs;e of the fir&longs;t and mo&longs;t
innocent period of our lives. With what apparent
delight do per&longs;ons, advanced in years, re-trace
their puerile feats and diver&longs;ions! “The hoary
head looks back with a &longs;mile of complacency, mixed
with regret, on the &longs;ea&longs;on when health glowed
on the cheek, when lively &longs;pirits warmed the heart,
and when toil &longs;trung the nerves with vigour.”[3]

The plea&longs;ures of childhood and youth, when
regulated by parental wi&longs;dom, and &longs;weetened by
filial affection and obedience, mu&longs;t be grateful to
the recollection at any age: and for this plain
rea&longs;on, becau&longs;e innocence and &longs;implicity are their
leading traits. How &longs;oothing, how animating,
then, mu&longs;t be reflection, at the evening of a life,
wholly &longs;pent in virtue and rectitude!

Pope ob&longs;erves that “Every year is a critique
on the la&longs;t. The man de&longs;pi&longs;es the boy, the philosopher
the man, and the Chri&longs;tian all.” Happy
are tho&longs;e who can take a retro&longs;pect of all, with
the &longs;upporting con&longs;ciou&longs;ne&longs;s, that each part has
been rightly performed! Adieu.

To Mi&longs;s MATILDA FIELDING.
Boston.

[figure description] Page 172.[end figure description]

I am impatient for an opportunity of returning
your civilities, my dear Matilda; and if
po&longs;&longs;ible, of repaying you &longs;ome part of the pleasure,
which you &longs;o liberally afforded me, during
my late vi&longs;it to your ho&longs;pitable man&longs;ion. For
this purpo&longs;e, I mu&longs;t in&longs;i&longs;t on the performance of
your promi&longs;e to &longs;pend the winter in town. It is
true that I cannot contribute to your amu&longs;ement
in kind. Yet, according to the generally received
opinion, that variety is nece&longs;&longs;ary to the enjoyment
of life, we may find our's mutually heightened
by the exchange. Delightful rambles, and
hours of contemplative &longs;olitude, free from the
interruptions of formality and fa&longs;hion, I cannot
in&longs;ure; but you may depend on all that friendship
and a&longs;&longs;iduity can &longs;ub&longs;titute; and while the
bleak winds are howling abroad, a cheerful fireside,
and a &longs;ocial circle, may di&longs;pel the gloom of
the &longs;ea&longs;on. The plea&longs;ures of our family are very
local. Few are &longs;ought, in which the understanding
and affections can have no &longs;hare. For this
rea&longs;on, a &longs;elect, not a promi&longs;cuous acquaintance
is cultivated. And however unfa&longs;hionable our
practice may be deemed, we can find entertainment,
even in the dull hours of winter, without
recour&longs;e to cards. Almo&longs;t every other

[figure description] Page 173.[end figure description]

recreation affords &longs;ome exerci&longs;e and improvement to
the body or mind, or both; but from this neither
can re&longs;ult. The whole attention is ab&longs;orbed
by the game. Rea&longs;on lies dormant, and the passions
only are awake. However little is depending,
the parties are frequently as much agitated
by hope and fear, as if their all were at &longs;take.
It is difficult for the vanqui&longs;hed not to feel chagrin;
while the victors are gratified at the expense
of their friends. But the principal objection
with me, is the utter exclu&longs;ion of conver&longs;ation;
a &longs;ource of plea&longs;ure, and of profit too, for which
I can admit nothing as an equivalent. Winter
evenings are peculiarly adapted to this rational
and refined entertainment. Deprived of that variety
of &longs;cenery, and tho&longs;e beauties of nature,
which the vernal and autumnal &longs;ea&longs;ons exhibit,
we are obliged to have recour&longs;e to the fire-&longs;ide
for comfort. Here we have lei&longs;ure to collect
our &longs;cattered ideas, and to improve, by &longs;ocial
intercour&longs;e, and the exertion of our mental
powers.

Our &longs;ex are often rallied on their volubility:
and, for my&longs;elf, I frankly confe&longs;s, that I am &longs;o
aver&longs;e to taciturnity, and &longs;o highly prize the advantages
of &longs;ociety and friend&longs;hip, that I had
rather plead guilty to the charge than relinquish
them.

[figure description] Page 174.[end figure description]

Come then, Matilda, participate the plea&longs;ures,
and accelerate the improvement, of your affec-tionate
friend,

To Mi&longs;s LAURA GUILFORD.
Beverly.
DEAR LAURA,

[figure description] Page 175.[end figure description]

Your's of the 9th ult. has ju&longs;t come to
hand. It gave me renewed experience of the
truth of the ob&longs;ervation, that next to the personal
pre&longs;ence and conver&longs;ation, is the epi&longs;tolary
corre&longs;pondence of a friend. I am preparing,
with the mo&longs;t lively &longs;en&longs;ations of plea&longs;ure, to
gratify my own wi&longs;hes, and comply with your
polite invitation. The romantic beauty of the
rural &longs;cenes has for&longs;aken me; and what can &longs;o
amply compen&longs;ate for their ab&longs;ence, as the charms
you offer?

I envy you nothing which the town affords,
but the advantages you derive from the choice of
&longs;ociety adapted to your own ta&longs;te. Your sentiments
of the fa&longs;hionable diver&longs;ion of card-playing,
are, in my view, perfectly ju&longs;t. I believe
that many people join in it, becau&longs;e it is the ton,
rather than from any other motive. And as
&longs;uch per&longs;ons generally pay the greate&longs;t deference
to Lord Che&longs;terfield's opinions and maxims, I
have often wondered how they happened to
overlook, or di&longs;regard his animadver&longs;ions upon
this &longs;ubject; and have felt a &longs;trong inclination
to tell them, that this all-accompli&longs;hed ma&longs;ter of
politene&longs;s, and oracle of plea&longs;ure, expre&longs;sly &longs;ays,

[figure description] Page 176.[end figure description]

“All amu&longs;ements, where neither the understanding
nor the &longs;en&longs;es can have the lea&longs;t &longs;hare,
I look upon as frivolous, and the re&longs;ources of
little minds, who either do not think, or do not
love to think.”

We had a pretty party here, la&longs;t evening; and
a party it literally was; for it con&longs;i&longs;ted entirely
of ladies. This &longs;ingular circum&longs;tance was remarked
by one of the company, who, at lea&longs;t,
pretended to think it agreeable, becau&longs;e, &longs;aid
&longs;he, we can now &longs;peak without re&longs;traint, or
the fear of critici&longs;m. I confe&longs;s that I was not
prude enough to acquie&longs;ce in her opinion.

Ladies of delicacy and refinement will not
countenance or &longs;upport a conver&longs;ation, which
gentlemen of &longs;en&longs;e and &longs;entiment can di&longs;approve.
As each were formed for &longs;ocial beings, and depend
on the other for &longs;ocial happine&longs;s, I imagine
that &longs;ociety receives its greate&longs;t charm from a
mutual interchange of &longs;entiment and knowledge.

“Both &longs;exes are reciprocal in&longs;truments of each
other's improvement. The rough &longs;pirit of the
one is tempered by the gentlene&longs;s of the other,
which has likewi&longs;e its obligations to that &longs;pirit.
Men's &longs;entiments contract a milder turn in the
company of women, who, on the other hand,
find their volatility abated in that of the men.
Their different qualities, intermingling, form a
happy &longs;ymphony. From their intimate conjunction,
their real advantages mu&longs;t be common and

[figure description] Page 177.[end figure description]

in&longs;eparable; and as for tho&longs;e ridiculous wranglings
about &longs;uperiority, they may be reckoned
in&longs;ults to nature, and betray a want of a due
&longs;en&longs;e of its wi&longs;e and gracious di&longs;pen&longs;ations.”[4]

Many ladies affect to think it incon&longs;i&longs;tent with
female re&longs;erve, to acknowledge them&longs;elves plea&longs;ed
with the company of the other &longs;ex; but while
&longs;uch are the objects and advantages of a mixed
&longs;ociety, I blu&longs;h not to own my&longs;elf de&longs;irous of its
cu&longs;tivation. Adieu.

To Mi&longs;s CAROLINE LITTLETON.
Boston.
DEAR CAROLINE,

[figure description] Page 178.[end figure description]

I take the liberty to &longs;end you Bennet's
Letters. When my mamma put them into my
hand, Sophia, &longs;aid &longs;he, I recommend this book
to your attentive peru&longs;al. It highly de&longs;erves it,
and will richly reward your labour. You have,
indeed, completed your &longs;chool education; but
you have much yet to learn. Improvements
in knowledge are nece&longs;&longs;arily progre&longs;&longs;ive. The
human mind is naturally active and eager in
pur&longs;uit of information; which we have various
and continual means of accumulating: but never
will you have a more favourable opportunity for
the cultivation of your mind, than you now
enjoy. You are now free from tho&longs;e dome&longs;tic
cares and avocations, which may hereafter fall
to your lot, and occupy mo&longs;t of your time.
Speculation mu&longs;t then give place to practice.
Be affiduous, therefore, to increa&longs;e the &longs;und, that
it may yield you a competent intere&longs;t, and afford
you a con&longs;tant re&longs;ource of &longs;upport and enjoyment.

With the&longs;e words &longs;he withdrew, while I was
&longs;till li&longs;tening to the &longs;weet accents of maternal
tenderne&longs;s and di&longs;cretion, which vibrated on my
ear, even after her departure.

[figure description] Page 179.[end figure description]

I find it worthy the recommendation of &longs;o
good a judge. As a moral writer, the precepts
and ob&longs;ervations of its author are excellent; as a
religious one, his piety is exemplary, and his
in&longs;tructions improving. His &longs;election of books,
which he deems mo&longs;t proper for our &longs;ex, though
too numerous, perhaps, may, notwith&longs;tanding,
a&longs;&longs;i&longs;t and direct the young, in their cour&longs;e of
reading.

Who would not imitate his Loui&longs;a? In her
he has forcibly di&longs;played the beauties of an
amiable di&longs;po&longs;ition, and the advantages which
even that may derive from a virtuous and
religious education.

The&longs;e letters are not &longs;chola&longs;tic and elaborate
di&longs;&longs;ertations; they are addre&longs;&longs;ed to the heart;
they are the native language of affection: and
they can hardly fail to in&longs;til the love of virtue
into every mind &longs;u&longs;ceptible of its charms.

If you have not read them, I will venture to
predict that they will afford you entertainment,
as well as in&longs;truction; and if you have, they will
bear a &longs;econd peru&longs;al. Indeed, every valuable
book &longs;hould be re-peru&longs;ed. On a fir&longs;t reading,
our curio&longs;ity to know &longs;omething of all it contains,
hurries us forward with a rapidity which out-strips
both the memory and judgment.

When this predominant pa&longs;&longs;ion is gratified, an
attentive review will commonly furni&longs;h many

[figure description] Page 180.[end figure description]

u&longs;eful and important le&longs;&longs;ons, which had nearly
or quite e&longs;caped our notice before.

This, by &longs;ome, is deemed too laborious a ta&longs;k.
They prefer company and conver&longs;ation to reading
of any kind; and allege, in defence of their
opinion, that a knowledge of the world, and of
human nature, together with that ea&longs;e and gracefulness
of manners, which are of the utmo&longs;t
con&longs;equence to all who would make a re&longs;pectable
figure in life, are much better obtained in this
way, than by the cold and unimpa&longs;&longs;ioned peru&longs;al
of books.

But is not every acqui&longs;ition of this &longs;ort merely
&longs;uperficial? Need we not a guide, &longs;uperior to
our own judgment and experience, to point out
the line of duty and propriety, in the various
conditions and relations of our exi&longs;tence?

Our acquaintance with living characters and
manners can afford us but a very limited view of
mankind, in the different periods and &longs;tages of
&longs;ociety. The inqui&longs;itive mind labours to extend
its knowledge to the mo&longs;t di&longs;tant climes and remote
antiquity; and craves other materials for
the exerci&longs;e of its reflecting powers, than can be
derived from occa&longs;ional and de&longs;ultory conversation.
Now, by what means can this laudable
curio&longs;ity be &longs;o effectually &longs;atisfied, as by the perusal
of judicious and well cho&longs;en books? Not
that I would depreciate the value of good company
(for I e&longs;teem it highly;) but add its many

[figure description] Page 181.[end figure description]

advantages to tho&longs;e which reading affords. This
combination mu&longs;t have a happy tendency to give
us po&longs;&longs;e&longs;&longs;ion, both of the virtues and graces;
and to render our attainments at once &longs;olid and
ornamental.

What think you, Caroline? Do you agree
with me in opinion? Let me hear from you
by the fir&longs;t opportunity; and believe me your's
mo&longs;t &longs;incerely.

To Mi&longs;s SOPHIA MANCHESTER.
Newbury-Port.

[figure description] Page 182.[end figure description]

I thank you, my dear friend, for the
book you were &longs;o obliging as to &longs;end me; and
for the letter which accompanied it. The book
I had read; but, as you ju&longs;tly ob&longs;erve, I mu&longs;t
be a gainer by a &longs;econd peru&longs;al.

Upon the &longs;ubject of reading, I perfectly accord
with you in &longs;entiment. It is an amusement,
of which I was always enthu&longs;ia&longs;tically fond.
Mrs. Williams regulated my ta&longs;te; and, by directing
and maturing my judgment, taught me
to make it a &longs;ource of refined and &longs;ub&longs;tantial
plea&longs;ure. I do not wi&longs;h to pur&longs;ue &longs;tudy as a
profe&longs;&longs;ion, nor to become a learned lady; but I
would pay &longs;o much attention to it, as to ta&longs;te the
delights of literature, and be qualified to bear a
part in rational and improving conver&longs;ation.
Indeed, I would trea&longs;ure up &longs;uch a fund of useful
knowledge, as may properly direct my cour&longs;e
through life, and prove an antidote again&longs;t the
vexations and di&longs;appointments of the world. I
think, Sophia, that our &longs;ex &longs;tand in &longs;pecial need
of &longs;uch a re&longs;ource to beguile the &longs;olitary hours
which a dome&longs;tic &longs;tation commonly impo&longs;es. Is
it not for want of this that &longs;ome females furni&longs;h
a pretext for the accu&longs;ation (which is illiberally
brought again&longs;t all) of having recour&longs;e to

[figure description] Page 183.[end figure description]

scandal, and the &longs;allies of indelicate mirth? Conversation
requires a perpetual &longs;upply of materials
from the mind: and, accordingly as the mind has
been cultivated or neglected, dignified or degrading
&longs;ubjects will be introduced.

I received a letter, ye&longs;terday, from our lively
and lovely friend, Anna Williams. How delightfully
blended in this charming girl, are vivacity
and &longs;entiment, ea&longs;e and propriety. Adieu.

To Mi&longs;s MARIA WILLIAMS.
Boston.

[figure description] Page 184.[end figure description]

So often, my dear Maria, has the pen of the
divine, the morali&longs;t, and the noveli&longs;t been employed
on the &longs;ubject of female frailty and seduction;
and &longs;o pathetically has each de&longs;cribed the
folly and mi&longs;ery of the fatal delu&longs;ion which involves
many in di&longs;grace, that I am a&longs;toni&longs;hed
when I &longs;ee tho&longs;e, who have the be&longs;t means of information,
heedle&longs;sly &longs;acrificing their reputation,
peace and happine&longs;s, to the &longs;pecious arts of the
libertine! In this ca&longs;e, it is common for our &longs;ex
to rail again&longs;t the other, and endeavour to excite
the pity of the world by painting the advantage
which has been taken of their credulity and
weakne&longs;s. But are we not &longs;ufficiently appri&longs;ed
of the enemies we have to encounter? And have
we not adequate motives to circum&longs;pection and
firmne&longs;s?

I am generally an advocate for my own &longs;ex;
but when they &longs;uffer them&longs;elves to fall a prey to
&longs;educers, their pu&longs;illanimity admits no excu&longs;e. I
am bold to affirm that every woman, by behaving
with propriety on all occa&longs;ions, may not only resist
temptation, but repel the fir&longs;t attempts upon
her honor and virtue.

That levity of deportment, which invites and
encourages de&longs;igners, ought &longs;tudiou&longs;ly to be

[figure description] Page 185.[end figure description]

avoided. Flattery and vanity are two of the
mo&longs;t dangerous foes to the &longs;ex. A fondne&longs;s for
admiration in&longs;en&longs;ibly throws them off their guard,
and leads them to li&longs;ten and give credit to the
pro&longs;e&longs;&longs;ions of tho&longs;e who lie in wait to deceive.

The following remarks, though &longs;evere, perhaps,
can hardly be deemed incon&longs;i&longs;tent with the
character which their author a&longs;&longs;umes.[5] “Women
would do well to forbear their declamations
again&longs;t the fal&longs;ity and wickedne&longs;s of men; the
fault is theirs, to fall into &longs;uch coar&longs;e-&longs;pun &longs;nares
as are laid for them.

“That &longs;ervile ob&longs;equiou&longs;ne&longs;s which women
&longs;hould immediately look upon as the mark of fraud,
and which &longs;hould make them apprehend a &longs;urpri&longs;e,
is the very thing which allures them, and renders
them &longs;oon the victims of perjury and inconstancy;
the ju&longs;t puni&longs;hment of a di&longs;po&longs;ition which
fixes their inclinations on &longs;uperficial qualities. It
is this di&longs;po&longs;ition which draws after them a crowd
of empty fops, who, if they have any meaning at
all, it is only to deceive. Something plea&longs;ing in
a man's per&longs;on, a giddy air, a perpetual levity,
&longs;upply the place of valuable endowments.”

A recent, and &longs;ingular adventure has rendered
ob&longs;ervations of this &longs;ort peculiarly &longs;triking to
my mind; which may account for the &longs;ubject
and the length of this letter.

[figure description] Page 186.[end figure description]

I will give you a detail of it, though I mu&longs;t
conceal the real names of the parties concerned.

Ye&longs;terday, the weather being very fine, and
the &longs;leighing excellent, &longs;everal of our family,
with two or three friends, were induced to make
an excur&longs;ion a few miles into the country. We
&longs;topped at a hou&longs;e which had formerly been a
tavern, and in which we had often been well entertained
on &longs;imilar occa&longs;ions. As we were in
ha&longs;te to receive the benefit of a good fire, we
did not notice the removal of the &longs;ign, nor advert
to the po&longs;&longs;ibility of its being converted to a private
man&longs;ion. Being very cold, I &longs;tepped fir&longs;t
out of the &longs;leigh, and ran ha&longs;tily in; leaving the
gentlemen to exerci&longs;e their gallantry with the
other ladies. The room I entered had no fire.
I therefore opened the door which led to the
next apartment, when I beheld the beautiful and
admired Clarinda &longs;itting in an ea&longs;y chair, pale
and wan, with an infant in her arms! I &longs;tood
mute and motionle&longs;s, till the woman of the hou&longs;e
appeared to conduct me to another room. Confusion
and &longs;hame were vi&longs;ibly depicted in Clarinda's
countenance; and, unable to meet my
eye, &longs;he threw her handkerchief over her face,
and fell back in her chair.

I followed the good woman, and, apologizing
for my intru&longs;ion, told her the cau&longs;e. She recollected
my having been there before, and readily
excu&longs;ed my freedom.

[figure description] Page 187.[end figure description]

By this time the re&longs;t of the company, who
had been &longs;hown into a decent parlour, were inquiring
for me; and I could &longs;carcely find opportunity
to reque&longs;t my conductre&longs;s to a&longs;k Clarinda's
forgivene&longs;s in my name, and to a&longs;&longs;ure her of my
&longs;ilence, before I had joined them. I a&longs;&longs;umed an
appearance of cheerfulne&longs;s very foreign to the
feelings of my heart, and related my mi&longs;take
without any mention of the melancholy discovery
I had made. We prevailed on the woman
to accommodate us with tea and coffee, as we
wi&longs;hed to ride no further. While preparations
were making, &longs;he came in to lay the table, and
as &longs;he withdrew gave me a token to follow her;
when &longs;he informed me that Clarinda had been
extremely overcome by my detecting her situation;
but being &longs;omewhat recovered, de&longs;ired a
private interview. I accordingly repaired to her
apartment, where I found her bathed in tears.
Pity operated in my brea&longs;t, and with an air of
tenderne&longs;s I offered her my hand; but &longs;he withheld
her's, exclaiming in broken accents, O no!
I am polluted—I have forfeited your friend&longs;hip—
I am unworthy even of your compa&longs;&longs;ion!

I begged her to be calm, and promi&longs;ed her
that &longs;he &longs;hould &longs;uffer no inconvenience from my
knowledge of her condition.

She thanked me for my a&longs;&longs;urances, and subjoined
that, &longs;ince &longs;he knew the candour and generosity
of my di&longs;po&longs;ition, &longs;he would entru&longs;t me

[figure description] Page 188.[end figure description]

with every circum&longs;tance relative to her &longs;hameful
fall; when, after a con&longs;iderable pau&longs;e, &longs;he proceeded
nearly in the following words.

“Though our acquaintance has been for &longs;ome
time &longs;u&longs;pended, and though we have lived in
different parts of the town, yet common &longs;ame
has doubtle&longs;s informed you that I was addre&longs;&longs;ed
by the gay, and to me, too charming Florimel!
To the mo&longs;t captivating form, he &longs;uperadded
the winning graces of politene&longs;s, and all tho&longs;e
in&longs;inuating arts which imperceptibly engage the
female heart.

“His flattering attentions, and apparent ardour
of affection were to my inexperienced and susceptible
mind proofs of his &longs;incerity; and the
effu&longs;ions of the mo&longs;t lively pa&longs;&longs;ion were returned
with un&longs;u&longs;pecting confidence.

“My father, &longs;trict in his principles, and watchful
for my real welfare, di&longs;approved his &longs;uit; alleging
that although Florimel was calculated to
plea&longs;e in the gayer moments of life, he was nevertheless
de&longs;titute of tho&longs;e &longs;entiments of religion
and virtue, which are e&longs;&longs;entially requi&longs;ite to durable
felicity. But I could not be per&longs;uaded
that he lacked any perfection which maturer
years would not give him; and therefore finding
my attachment unconquerable, my father reluctantly
acquie&longs;ced in the propo&longs;ed connexion.
My ill-judged partiality for this ungenerous man
ab&longs;orbed every other pa&longs;&longs;ion and pur&longs;uit; while

[figure description] Page 189.[end figure description]

he took advantage of my yielding fondne&longs;s, and
a&longs;&longs;umed liberties which I knew to be incon&longs;i&longs;tent
with delicacy, but had not re&longs;olution to repel.
One encroachment &longs;ucceeded another, and every
conce&longs;&longs;ion was claimed and granted as a proof of
love, till at length he became ab&longs;olute ma&longs;ter of
my will and my per&longs;on! Shame and remor&longs;e
&longs;oon rou&longs;ed me to a &longs;en&longs;e of my guilt, and I demanded
an immediate performance of his promise
of marriage. This, under one pretext or another,
he con&longs;tantly evaded. His vi&longs;its daily became
le&longs;s frequent, and his attentions le&longs;s assiduous;
while the mo&longs;t poignant angui&longs;h of mind
deprived me of every comfort. I found my&longs;elf
reduced to the humiliating alternative of entreating
my &longs;educer to &longs;creen me from infamy by the
name of wife, though he &longs;hould never con&longs;ider
or treat me as &longs;uch. To this he in&longs;ultingly replied,
that my &longs;ituation mu&longs;t nece&longs;&longs;arily detect
our illicit commerce; and his pride could never
brook the reputation of having a wife who&longs;e
cha&longs;tity had been &longs;acrificed. As &longs;oon as rage
and re&longs;entment, which at fir&longs;t took from me the
power of utterance, would permit, Wretch! exclaimed
I, is it not to you the &longs;acrifice has been
made? Who but you has triumphed over my
virtue, and &longs;ubjected me to the di&longs;grace and
wretchedne&longs;s I now &longs;uffer? Was it not in token
of my regard for you that I yielded to your solicitations?
And is this the requital I am to

[figure description] Page 190.[end figure description]

receive? Ba&longs;e, ungrateful man! I de&longs;pi&longs;e your
meanne&longs;s! I dete&longs;t the ungenerous di&longs;po&longs;ition
you betray, and henceforth reject all intercour&longs;e
and &longs;ociety with you! I will throw my&longs;elf on
the mercy of my injured parents, and renounce
you forever.

“Seeing me almo&longs;t frantic, he endeavoured to
&longs;oothe and appea&longs;e me. He apologized for the
har&longs;hne&longs;s of his language, and even made professions
of unabated affection; but gave as a reason
for deferring the conjugal union, at pre&longs;ent,
that commercial affairs obliged him to &longs;ail immediately
for Europe; a&longs;&longs;uring me at the &longs;ame
time that on his return he would not fail to renew
and con&longs;ummate the connexion. To this I
gave no credit, and therefore made no reply.
He then reque&longs;ted me to accept a pur&longs;e to defray
my expen&longs;es, during his ab&longs;ence, which I
rejected with di&longs;dain; and he departed. The
di&longs;tre&longs;s and de&longs;pair of my mind were inexpressible.
For &longs;ome days, I re&longs;igned my&longs;elf entirely
to the agonizing pangs of grief. My parents
imputed my dejection to Florimel's departure,
and &longs;trove to con&longs;ole me. It was not long,
however, before my mother di&longs;covered the real
cau&longs;e. In her, re&longs;entment gave place to compassion;
but the anger of my father could not
be appea&longs;ed. He ab&longs;olutely forbad me his presence
for &longs;ome time; but my mother at length
prevailed on him to &longs;ee, and a&longs;&longs;ure me of

[figure description] Page 191.[end figure description]

forgiveness and re&longs;toration to favour, if I would
con&longs;ent to renounce and di&longs;own my child; to
which, not then knowing the force of maternal
affection, I readily con&longs;ented. This place was
privately procured for me, and hither, under
pretence of &longs;pending a month or two with a
friend in the country, I retired. To-morrow my
dear babe is to be taken from me! It is to be
put to nur&longs;e, I know not where! All I am told
is, that it &longs;hall be well taken care of! Constantly
will its moans haunt my imagination, while I
am deprived even of the hope of mini&longs;tering to
its wants; but mu&longs;t leave it to execrate the hour
which gave it birth, and deprived it of a parent's
attention and kindne&longs;s.

“As &longs;oon as po&longs;&longs;ible, I &longs;hall return to my father's
hou&longs;e; and as I am unknown here, and
you are the only per&longs;on, out of our family, who
&longs;hares the dreadful &longs;ecret, I flatter my&longs;elf that my
crime may &longs;till be concealed from the world.
The reproaches of my own mind I can never escape.
Con&longs;cious guilt will give the a&longs;pect of
accu&longs;ation to every eye that beholds me; and
however policy may compel me to wear the
ma&longs;k of gaiety and ea&longs;e, my heart will be wrung
with inexpre&longs;&longs;ible angui&longs;h by the remembrance
of my folly, and always alive to the di&longs;tre&longs;&longs;ing
&longs;en&longs;ations of remor&longs;e and &longs;hame! Oh Julia!
you have witne&longs;&longs;ed my di&longs;grace! pity and forgive
me! Perhaps I once appeared as virtuous

[figure description] Page 192.[end figure description]

and re&longs;pectable, as you now do; but how
changed! how fallen! how deba&longs;ed! Learn
from my fate to de&longs;pi&longs;e the flattery of the worthless
coxcomb, and the arts of the abandoned
libertine.”

By this time I was &longs;ummoned to tea; when,
giving all the con&longs;olation in my power to the
unhappy Clarinda, I rejoined my company; and
to prevent their inqui&longs;itivene&longs;s about my absence,
told them I had been with a &longs;ick woman,
upon whom I accidentally intruded when I fir&longs;t
came in; and that &longs;he had detained me, all this
time, by a recital of her complaints and misfortunes.
This account &longs;atisfied their curio&longs;ity;
but the melancholy into which my mind had
been thrown was not ea&longs;ily di&longs;&longs;ipated; nor could
I, without doing violence to my feelings, put on
the appearance of my u&longs;ual cheerfulne&longs;s and
ca&longs;e.

Here, my dear Maria, is a picture of the frailty
and weakne&longs;s of our &longs;ex! How much rea&longs;on
have we then to “watch and pray that we enter
not into temptation!”

With affectionate regards to your mamma and
&longs;i&longs;ter, I &longs;ub&longs;cribe my&longs;elf your's mo&longs;t &longs;incerely,