[] ESSAYS ADDRESSED TO YOUNG MARRIED WOMEN.

RELIGION.

FROM the time that a Woman enters into the holy and ho⯑nourable ſtate of matrimony, ſhe becomes accountable for her con⯑duct both towards God and Man. Separated from the foſtering care of tender and indulgent parents, [2] who have hitherto directed her footſteps in the way that ſhe ſhould walk, and left to chuſe her path amidſt the ſtormy or the flowery way, where ſhall ſhe find a clue to direct her inexperience through the labyrinth that now lies before her? One unerring guide remains, which if ſhe truly ſeeks, ‘"his word will be a lanthorn to her feet, and a light unto her paths;"’ and when her father and her mother forſake her, ‘"he will take her up."’

AS the ſpring to the year, ſo is youth to the ſoul, the ſeaſon of blooming virtue; without bloſ⯑ſoms [3] there can be no fruit, and the barren mind that is not early im⯑bued with the knowledge of the love of God, which alone conſti⯑tutes our happineſs here, and our hopes hereafter, will ſeek in vain for the delight it yields in thoſe maturer days, when worldly cares and diſappointments have ſoured the natural benevolence of the heart, and rendered it callous to the refined feelings of ſenſibility.

ZEAL without knowledge is the parent of bigotry; and bigotry is too often the adopted religion of wrinkles and grey hairs. From [4] hence it ſometimes happens, that devotion aſſumes the maſk of au⯑ſterity, which, by concealing the beauty of holineſs, muſt rather deter than invite the inexperienced mind from entering into that ſervice ‘"which is perfect freedom; whoſe ways are ways of pleaſantneſs, and whoſe paths are thoſe of peace."’

BUT whilſt the bleſſings and pleaſures of youth flow around us, the heart muſt naturally be ex⯑panded with gratitude; gratitude produces praiſe, and praiſe is ſurely the moſt acceptable ſacrifice that a [5] human creature can offer to the great Author of good. But, alas! ſurrounded by the delights of life, we too frequently become forget⯑ful of the ſource from whence they are derived; and whilſt we are indulging all our appetites in the delicious ſtream of happineſs, it becomes impregnated with the qualities of Lethé, and renders us unmindful of its fountain.

LET then the ſenſible and inno⯑cent Bride ‘"remember her Creator in the days of her youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh when ſhe ſhall ſay, [6] I have no pleaſure in them^*."’ Doctor Young ſays, ‘"The whole creation cannot furniſh a more lovely ſight, than a beautiful young woman upon her knees addreſſing her Maker in fervent prayer;"’ and if I might pre⯑ſume to add my ſentiments, I would ſay, that it is a ſight at which men and angels ſhould rejoice.

EVERY young and innocent wo⯑man muſt neceſſarily feel a painful diffidence on her firſt entrance into [7] the buſtle of life. A thorough ſenſe of religion alone can diſpel her apprehenſions, give calmneſs to her mind, and ſteadineſs to her conduct. For while we conſider ourſelves under the immediate guidance and protection of an all-wiſe and all-powerful Being, what have we to fear? True confidence ariſes from ſuch a dependence, and fills the mind with ‘"that ſweet peace which goodneſs boſoms ever."’

MR. ADDISON very juſtly ob⯑ſerves, ‘"That a mind which has the leaſt turn to religion, na⯑turally flies to it in affliction."’ [8] We then begin to feel our own inſufficiency, we are humbled by ſorrow, and perhaps only then de⯑duce real ſatisfaction from a tho⯑rough conviction that there is a ſuperior Being, whoſe aid is gra⯑ciouſly promiſed to thoſe who ſin⯑cerely ſeek it.

BUT though

we muſt by no means preſume to hope for the conſolation it can beſtow in the days of affliction, if we have neglected to receive and [9] ſubmit to its legiſlative authority in the hours of youth and proſpe⯑rity. ‘"You muſt firſt apply to it as the guide of life, before you can have recourſe to it as the refuge of ſorrow^*."’ But if labouring under the ſevereſt ills which this world can inflict, we can truly ſay, I have endeavoured to do my duty in the ſtate I have been called to, I have walked humbly with my God, have made my peace with him, and pa⯑tiently ſubmit to his all-wiſe de⯑crees; ‘"ſuch reflections will chear the lonely houſe of virtuous po⯑verty, [10] ſoothe the complaints of grief, lighten the preſſure of old age, and furniſh to the bed of ſickneſs a cordial of more grate⯑ful reliſh and more ſovereign virtue, than any which this world can afford^*."’

THOUGH the motives which I have hitherto urged for an early attachment to our religious duties ſeem only to relate to the happy individual who, like Solomon, ‘"has ſought Wiſdom early, and found her,"’ there can be no [11] doubt of the innumerable bene⯑fits which ſociety muſt reap, as far as her influence extends, from the conduct and example of a truly religious woman. In whatever point of view ſhe may be placed, as Daughter, Wife, Mother, Siſter, or Friend, the governing principle of her life, the love of God, will operate upon her conduct in the relative duties of her ſtation, and render that perfect in each and every degree.

I CANNOT conclude this im⯑portant ſubject, without preſenting to my fair Readers that elegant [12] portrait which the wiſeſt of men and divineſt of poets has given them, of one whom they ſhould endeavour to imitate, if they de⯑ſire to attain happineſs and honour in this life, and everlaſting felicity in that to come:

‘"WHO can find a virtuous wo⯑man? for her price is far above rubies.’

‘"THE heart of her huſband doth ſafely truſt in her, ſo that he ſhall have no need of ſpoil.’

‘"SHE layeth her hands to the ſpindle, and her hands hold the diſtaff.’

[13] ‘"SHE ſtretcheth out her hand to the poor, yea, ſhe ſtretcheth forth her hands to the needy.’

‘"STRENGTH and honour are her clothing, and ſhe ſhall rejoice in time to come.’

‘"SHE openeth her mouth with wiſdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindneſs.’

‘"SHE looketh well to the ways of her houſhold, and eateth not the bread of idleneſs.’

‘"HER children riſe up and call her bleſſed; her huſband alſo, and he praiſeth her.’

[14] ‘"MANY daughters have done virtuouſly, but thou excelleſt them all.’

‘"FAVOUR is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but the woman that feareth the Lord ſhe ſhall be praiſed^*."’

CONJUGAL AFFECTION.

AS the union of hearts is uni⯑verſally allowed to be the bond of marriage, ſo the entering into ſuch a connection without poſ⯑ſeſſing [16] the eſſence or firſt principle on which it ſhould be founded, muſt render the ceremony of none effect, and can in reaſon and equity only be conſidered as a ſtate of legal proſtitution. To ſpeak of conjugal felicity to the wretched victims of parental authority, of avarice, or poverty, would be abſurd or cruel, as they muſt either be incapable of forming an idea of it, or doomed for ever to lament its loſs.

I THEREFORE, in this ſection, particularly addreſs myſelf to the happy few whom Love unites in [17] Hymen's roſy bands, and profeſs to teach the art of making their happineſs as permanent as the in⯑ſtability of mere mortal natures will admit of.

LOVE is a term ſo very vague and indiſcriminate, as it is gene⯑rally applied, that it would be ex⯑tremely difficult to inveſtigate its nature from its effects, in any other caſe but that of marriage; as the modes, perhaps, of feeling, or at leaſt of expreſſing it, vary, ac⯑cording to the temper, manner, or [18] ſituation, of each individual who either feels or feigns the paſſion.

BUT Conjugal Affection is by no means ſubject to ſuch equivocal ap⯑pearances; it is tenderneſs height⯑ened by paſſion, and ſtrengthened by eſteem. It is unmixed with any ſelfiſh or ſenſual allay, tending ſolely to promote the happineſs of its object here and hereafter.

SUCH an elevated ſtate of happi⯑neſs as muſt reſult from the af⯑fection I have deſcribed, when mutual, muſt ſurely be the acmé [19] of human felicity. But, as the point of perfection is that of de⯑clenſion alſo, it will require much pains, but they are pleaſing ones, to make the ever-turning wheel of ſublunary bliſs keep ſteady to the ſummit it has reached, or at leaſt to prevent its rolling down the rugged precipice where jealouſy, diſguſt, and grief, have marked the horrid road.

THE diſappointments of human life muſt ever be proportioned to the extravagance of our expecta⯑tions. Too great an ardour to be [02] bleſſed is frequently the ſource of miſery. A life of tranſport is not the lot of mortals. While we ac⯑cept, we ſhould chaſtiſe our joys, ‘"leſt while we claſp we kill them."’

THAT concord of ſouls which conſtitutes the happineſs of mar⯑riage, like a full concert, requires all the parts obliged to fill their ſe⯑veral ſtations in perfect time and place; for though the heart may lead the band, and ſet out in per⯑fect harmony, one jarring note de⯑ſtroys the rapturous ſtrain, and turns the whole to diſcord. For this reaſon, I conſider a parity of [21] underſtanding and temper to be as neceſſary towards forming an happy marriage, as an equality of years, rank and fortune.

BUT grant theſe circumſtances all conjoin and make the union perfect, remember, my fair Friends, ſatiety ſucceeds to rapture, as ſure as night to day. Be it your pro⯑vince, then, to keep your huſband's heart from ſinking into the incur⯑able diſeaſe of taſteleſs apathy. Do not rely too much upon your perſonal charms, however great, to preſerve the conqueſt they may have gained.

[22]BY a proper attention to your huſband, you will eaſily diſcover the bent of his genius and inclina⯑tions. To that turn all your thoughts, and let your words and actions ſolely tend to that great point. The kindneſs of your at⯑tention will awaken his, and gra⯑titude will ſtrengthen his affection, imperceptibly even to himſelf.

OUR firſt Parent juſtifies his fondneſs for Eve, to Raphael, upon this principle:

IN an age like this, when we may ſuppoſe that every young Lady deſerves the epithet with which Adam addreſſes his wife, Accompliſhed Eve, it muſt be leſs difficult than it might have been for their female anceſtors, to ſe⯑cure [24] the affections of a huſband already prepoſſeſſed in their favour. Let them but exert the ſame talents, with the ſame deſire of pleaſing, which they ſhewed before marriage, and I venture to pronounce that they will ſucceed.

A LOVE of power and authority is natural to men; and wherever this inclination is moſt indulged, will be the ſituation of their choice. Every man ought to be the prin⯑cipal object of attention in his fa⯑mily; of courſe he ſhould feel himſelf happier at home than in [25] any other place. It is, doubtleſs, the great buſineſs of a woman's life to render his home pleaſing to her huſband; he will then delight in her ſociety, and not ſeek abroad for alien amuſements. A huſband may, poſſibly, in his daily excur⯑ſions, ſee many women whom he thinks handſomer than his wife; but it is generally her fault if he meet with one that he thinks more amiable. A deſire of pleaſing very rarely fails of its effect; but in a wife, that deſire muſt be managed with the niceſt delicacy; it ſhould appear rather in the reſult, than in the [26] deſign; ‘"not obvious, not ob⯑truſive."’ Theſe petits ſoins are the beſt ſupplement to our great duties, and render the commerce of life delightful. Like an elegant deſ⯑ſert, they complete the feaſt, and leave not a wiſh unſatisfied.

WE have hitherto looked only on the pleaſing ſide of the tapeſtry, and ſeen Marriage in its moſt fa⯑vourable light. Let us now turn the canvas, and take a view of its defects.

LET us ſuppoſe, then, what I think the worſt of all ſituations, [27] an amiable young woman poſſeſ⯑ſing the tendereſt affection for her huſband, while he, from the natural depravity and inconſtancy of his nature, has withdrawn his love from her, and perhaps beſtowed it on ſome unworthy object, to whom he devotes his time and fortune.

IN ſuch a ſtate of wretchedneſs what line ſhall our neglected wife purſue? The firſt ſtep that I would recommend to her, is, that of en⯑tering into a ſerious, ſtrict, and im⯑partial review of her own conduct, even to the minutiae of her dreſs, [28] and the expreſſions of her looks, from the firſt of her acquaintance of her huſband. If, after ſuch exami⯑nation, ſhe cannot diſcover any fault in her manners that might have given offence, or created diſguſt, let her ſteadily purſue the ſame behaviour ſhe has hitherto prac⯑tiſed; for, if that be totally free from error, it is impoſſible that any alteration can give an additional efficacy to it. For to reſent, or to retaliate, neither her duty, nor her religion will permit.

[29] ‘"To carry ſmiles upon the face, when diſcontentent ſits brooding at the heart,"’ is, I confeſs, one of the moſt difficult taſks that can poſſibly be impoſed on an ingenuous and feel⯑ing ſoul. But a thorough convic⯑tion that it is her province to en⯑deavour to recal the wanderer back, for his own happineſs, as well as her's, and a certainty that there are no other means of accompliſhing ſo deſirable an end, will enable her to purſue this arduous undertaking, till either her heart ſhall rejoice in its ſucceſs, or from reiterated diſap⯑pointments become indifferent to [30] the worthleſs object of its former eſteem and attention.

GRANTING the laſt to be the caſe, ſhe has a right to expect the good opinion of the world will at⯑tend her conduct: but an higher and more certain reward awaits it; ſelf-approbation, ariſing from a con⯑ſciouſneſs of having fulfilled her duty, and an aſſurance of having eſſayed the only method that was likely to inſure ſucceſs: for never yet was love recalled by lamenta⯑tions or upbraidings. The firſt may ſometimes, perhaps, create [31] pity, but oftener begets contempt; and the latter never did, nor can produce any paſſion but inſtant rage, or cool determined hate.

RECOLLECTION may furniſh to my fair Readers many inſtances where patient ſufferings have been rewarded with returning love; but I think there is ſcarcely one to be met with, where female violence has ever conquered male outrage; or where diſſipation and coquetry, though they may have alarmed the pride, ever reclaimed the alien⯑ated affections of a huſband.

[32]TRUE love, like true virtue, ſhrinks not on the firſt attack; it will bear many ſhocks before it be entirely vanquiſhed. As it con⯑tends not for victory, but for the prize, it will not diſplay itſelf in the vain arts of elocution, but in the more powerful eloquence of action; it will leave nothing un⯑done that can prove its ſincerity, but it will not boaſt, even to its object, of what it has done; much leſs will it vaunt its merits to any other confidant, or complain to the world of the unkind return it has met with.

[33]THERE are ſuch a variety of circumſtances which may diſturb the happineſs of the marriage-ſtate, that it is impoſſible to ſpecify them all; but as a virtuous wo⯑man will conſider the loſs of her huſband's affection as the greateſt calamity that can befal her, her duty and prudence will, before the evil happens, upon every occaſion ſupply rules of conduct to herſelf; and the reliance ſhe will neceſſarily have upon the tenderneſs of his at⯑tachment to her, joined to the ſin⯑cerity of her's to him, will ſupport her through every difficulty which [34] accident, misfortune, or even im⯑prudence, may have brought upon them. She will ſay, with Prior's Emma,

THIS is the natural language of conjugal affection, this the ful⯑filling of the marriage vow, where ſelf is loſt in a ſtill dearer object, where tenderneſs is heightened by diſtreſs, and attachment cemented even by the tears of ſorrow. Such an union of ſouls may brave the power of Time; and I truſt, that Death itſelf ſhall not be able to deſtroy it.

TEMPER.

IT has been already remarked, that a parity of temper is one of the principal requiſites in matrimonial happineſs; and yet it is poſſible that too great a ſimi⯑larity of diſpoſition may, in ſome caſes, render both parties wretched. For inſtance, if two perſons of a gay and careleſs turn of mind ſhould happen to be united, both will think themſelves entitled to purſue their joint or ſeparate amuſements, with⯑out being encumbered with any at⯑tention to domeſtic oeconomy, till [37] even the neceſſary means for their ſupport may be irretrievably la⯑viſhed away.

AGAIN, ſhould two perſons of a ſaturnine complexion be joined in the indiſſoluble bond of mar⯑riage, the natural gloomineſs of their diſpoſitions will be increaſed by each other's converſe; melan⯑choly will become habitual, and care be heightened to deſpondency.

FROM theſe examples it is ob⯑vious, that a ſimilitude of diſpo⯑ſitions alone, though a ſtrong in⯑centive to affection, will not always enſure matrimonial felicity. And yet I am perfectly convinced, that wherever there is any material different eof ſentiments or manners, there never was, or will be, a happy marriage. We naturally [39] admire thoſe we love, and as na⯑turally imitate what we admire. The ſimilarity that ariſes from conformity, and a deſire to pleaſe, has a ſuperior charm to that which is merely complexional. To adopt the ſentiments of a perſon is the moſt delicate proof of approbation and eſteem; and perhaps the com⯑pliment is valued by our ſelf-love, in proportion to the ſacrifice which has been made of an oppoſite way of thinking.

THAT conformity of manners, as far as religion and reaſon will [40] permit, is one of the indiſpenſible duties of a Wife, will not, I be⯑lieve, be denied by any one. But there are Ladies who have an art of letting their condeſcenſion appear too ſtrongly in the act, as if ſub⯑mitting to the impoſitions of a tyrant, rather than chearfully ful⯑filling the obligation they had en⯑tered into at the altar—to love, honour, and obey.

THE ſame words or actions, ex⯑preſſed or performed in a gracious or ungracious manner, may pro⯑duce effects as different as Love and [41] Hate. I would, therefore, recom⯑mend it to the candidates for hap⯑pineſs in the marriage-ſtate, to ſa⯑crifice to the Graces, in their con⯑jugal demeanour, as ſincerely as they do at their toilets; for good-breeding is as neceſſary to the preſervation of domeſtic harmony, as it can poſſibly be to the general intercourſe and commerce of life.

SOLOMON, in his deſcription of a virtuous woman, before quoted, has furniſhed us with the fineſt idea that ever was given, of a wife's addreſs to her huſband. ‘"She openeth her mouth with wiſ⯑dom, [42] and in her tongue is the law of kindneſs."’ And ſurely there exiſts not a being, under the form of man, who could reject ſuch an addreſs with ſcorn or in⯑ſolence.

WE ſhould, however, take par⯑ticular care to time our converſa⯑tion with our huſbands, and nei⯑ther idly obtrude upon their ſerious hours of buſineſs or retirement, nor haſtily miſtake that reſerve or gloom which may ariſe from diffi⯑culties in their affairs, abroad, for ill-temper or diſguſt, at home.

[43]IT is the duty of a wife not only to regulate her own Temper to⯑wards her huſband, but alſo to pay ſuch an attention to his, as may prevent it, from ever ap⯑pearing in a diſagreeable light. By ſtudiouſly obſerving the proper ſeaſons for the different ſubjects on which ſhe may have occaſion to addreſs him, ſhe may, imper⯑ceptibly to him, and almoſt to herſelf, obtain the power of guid⯑ing his concurrence or denial.

A SENSIBLE and virtuous wo⯑man, purſuing ſuch a line of conduct for the mutual advantage of her [44] huſband and family, without any ſelfiſh views, which only little minds are capable of, comes near⯑eſt to the idea that mortals are taught to conceive of a Guardian Angel, who, unſeen, directs our doubtful choice to what is beſt, and leads our erring ſteps into the paths of happineſs and peace.

I HAVE hitherto conſidered this great article of Temper, only in one point of view, merely as it relates to the colloquial inter⯑courſe between a wedded pair. I come now to ſhew, that its influ⯑ence is univerſally extenſive; and [45] that it is one of the main ſprings which guides or deranges the hu⯑man machine, through every ſtation and ſituation of life.

AN unmarried woman is very rarely ſaid to be ill-tempered; and yet there are ſuch prodigies in nature as young vixens, who, however they may conceal their ill-humour from their lovers and general acquaintance, will ſurely betray it to their parents, inmates, and ſervants. ‘"A little lump leaveneth the whole,"’ and a peeviſh maiden will infallibly make a croſs wife; for, when [46] once a ſourneſs of diſpoſition be⯑comes habitual, there is no alka⯑line in nature ſufficiently powerful to correct the heart-burnings and bitterneſs of a diſſatisfied Temper. A perſon ſo affected, like one in⯑fected with the plague, neceſſarily ſpreads the contagion of diſcontent around her. Her parents lament the badneſs of her diſpoſition; her other relations and connections are ſenſible of averſion, inſtead of affec⯑tion, towards her; and her ſervants regret that the irkſomeneſs of ſer⯑vitude is aggravated by receiving their ſubſiſtence from a tyrant, [47] whom they can neither pleaſe, re⯑ſpect, or love.

AS gravity, which is ſometimes but another name for dullneſs, has been frequently miſtaken for wiſ⯑dom, ſo is chearfulneſs often ac⯑cepted for good-humour. But that ſpecies of chearfulneſs which we meet with in ſociety, that laughs in the eye, and lights up the countenance, generally proceeds rather from an ebullition of the ſpirits, than a deſigned and con⯑ſiſtent exertion of our powers to pleaſe, and is more frequently the reſult of a lively than a placid [48] diſpoſition. As it flows from an accidental cauſe, its effects muſt neceſſarily be precarious; it is, therefore, ſubject to cauſeleſs and ſudden dejection, to which habi⯑tual good-humour is by no means liable.

DISTINCT as theſe two qualities are, they have yet one property common to both, and at the ſame time different from what can be im⯑puted to any other happy endow⯑ment; which is, that they are moſt meritorious where they are leaſt natural. An ideot may be conſtitutionally good-humoured, [49] and a villain be chearful, from a glow of health or a flow of ſpirits; but that ſpecies of good-humour which is the reſult of ſenſe, virtue, and gratitude to Providence, will be uniform in its appearance, and conſiſtent in its manners; it will not, like an April day, lour and ſhine almoſt in the ſame moment; nor, like the flaming heats of July, will the brightneſs of the meridian ſun foretel the approaching thun⯑der; but clear, calm, and un⯑diſturbed, ſhall it ſhine on even to its lateſt hour.

[50]SUCH a bleſſed ſtate of mind muſt neceſſarily communicate the happineſs it feels to all around it. ‘"Like the ſmooth ſtream, it re⯑flects every object in its juſt proportion, and in its faireſt colours; while the turbulent and ruffled ſpirit, like troubled waters, renders back the images of things diſtorted and broken, and communicates to them all that diſordered motion which ariſes ſolely from its own agi⯑tation^*."’

[51]THIS beautiful ſimile has a double claim to female attention; for rage, jealouſy, or any other ungentle paſſion, deform the faireſt face almoſt as much as they de⯑grade the mind, and ‘"can unſex the lovelieſt of the lovely kind, e'en from the top to toe."’

BUT there is a higher and a ſtronger motive than any I have yet mentioned for ‘"poſſeſſing our ſouls in gentleneſs,"’ if we pre⯑ſume to call ourſelves Chriſtians. Shall the diſciple of a ſuffering Saviour dare to reſent with furious [52] outrage the real or imaginary in⯑juries ſhe may receive? Or can ſhe kneel before the throne of Mercy, and ſupplicate the God of Peace and Good-will to Man, for pardon or protection, while her heart is agitated with a ſpirit of malice or revenge towards a fel⯑low-creature frail as her wretched ſelf? This were an inſult upon piety, a mockery of devotion!

WE are aſſured that God rejects the proud, and that an humble and a contrite heart are precious in his ſight. Shall we then caſt away the [53] heart-felt tranſport of thinking ourſelves under the guidance and protection of an Almighty Provi⯑dence, to ſacrifice to Moloch? and give away the birth-right of the redeemed, for the ſad privilege of torturing ourſelves? For Provi⯑dence has wiſely ordained, that all the malevolent paſſions of the hu⯑man breaſt ſhould prey upon their poſſeſſors. Peace never dwelt with envy, rage, or hate.

AS marriage, among Chriſtians, is of divine inſtitution, all married perſons ſhould conſider a proper [54] conduct towards each other, as the fulfilling of a religious duty. To promote harmony, peace, order, and happineſs, in their families, is the mutual and undoubted obligation both of man and wife. This rule once eſtabliſhed and reduced to practice, even libertines will own that marriage is the happieſt ſtate on earth; but when the fiends of diſcord, rage, confuſion, and mi⯑ſery, uſurp the place of thoſe dear Houſhold Gods, their very oppo⯑ſites, we muſt agree with Dr. Til⯑lotſon, and own that ſuch a ſtate is [55] but ‘"a leſſer hell, in paſſage to the greater."’

BE it your care, then, my gentle and much-intereſted Readers, to re⯑verſe this ſad idea, and by the mildneſs of your manners, and the ſweetneſs of your tempers, render the marriage-ſtate a leſſer heaven, in paſſage to the greater.

NEATNESS.

NEATNESS is the offspring of Decency, and the parent of Elegance; and to her, perhaps, are my fair countrywomen more in⯑debted for the power of making and preſerving their conqueſts, than to any other of thoſe numerous charms which they poſſeſs in com⯑mon with the reſt of their ſex.

AT this poliſhed era, when ele⯑gance, at leaſt as far as it relates to form and dreſs, ſeems to be eleva⯑ted almoſt into a ſcience, which is [57] become more the object of ſtudy and attention than any of thoſe which are to be found in the Ency⯑clopedia, it may ſeem ſuperfluous to ſay much upon the ſubject of this chapter; but though I ſhould wiſh neatneſs and elegance to be ever united, yet I would not, by any means, have them confounded together, as they certainly are as diſtinct, as light and ſhade in paint⯑ing; and like them too, when hap⯑pily combined, they mutually re⯑flect grace on each other, while the charming reſult of both, amounts [58] to ‘"ſomething than beauty more."’

IN the beginning of this almoſt finiſhed century, the moſt refined Moraliſt of his age or nation told his fair cotemporaries, that ‘"wrapping-gowns and dirty linen were the bane of conjugal love^*."’ Yet in thoſe days our grandmothers might poſſibly have thought they dreſſed as elegantly as the preſent race of young wo⯑men imagine they do now. But then, leſs enlightened than their [59] happier deſcendants, they might vainly preſume, that the brilliancy of their charms, when heightened by dreſs, and animated by the gaiety of an opera or a ball, could efface the diſguſt which a huſband might have conceived from the in⯑delicacy of their appearance in their own apartments. How vain, indeed, muſt ſuch an idea ſeem to us, who know that diſguſt is, per⯑haps, the only unconquerable ſen⯑timent of the human mind, and that it can never be detached from the unfortunate object which has once inſpired it! The applica⯑tion [60] of this knowledge is too ob⯑vious to need any comment.

THE qualities of Neatneſs ex⯑tend much farther than to the ex⯑terior, or even the interior of dreſs: the houſe as well as per⯑ſon, nay the mind, of an accom⯑pliſhed woman ſhould be regulated by the ſame ſpirit; for it is very poſſible to meet with a littered head though bien coiffée, and a ſlatternly mind in a very elegant form.

NEATNESS is to the perſon what purity is to the mind. In many [61] inſtances they are ſo perfectly ana⯑logous, that they ſeem to be rather a ſimple than a complex idea. But though their qualities appear ſo very ſimilar, they are, alas! at ſome⯑times diſunited. They have, how⯑ever, one ſtriking characteriſtic common to both, which is, that art will, upon examination, be al⯑ways found deficient to imitate their unaffected excellence.

I SHALL conclude theſe few imperfect hints with Lord Lyt⯑telton's beautiful lines upon the ſame ſubject:

DOMESTIC AMUSEMENT.

VARIETY is, in general, the very eſſence of amuſement. How then is it poſſible to fix an idea which exiſts but in change? or how define a term, the meaning of which may be underſtood ſo differently by different perſons?

YET ſtill every human mind requires relaxation, and amuſe⯑ment will be ſought, and ſhould be found, by perſons of every condition in life. Thoſe whom Providence has placed in elevated [63] ſituations of rank or fortune, have undoubtedly an infinite advantage over their inferiors, in this article, as a proper and liberal education muſt have afforded them an early taſte for two of the moſt elegant amuſements that can be enjoyed, namely, Reading and Muſic. Who⯑ever has felt the charms of theſe delightful avocations, will never be ſubject to that miſerable com⯑plaint called Ennui, nor lament the want of company or employ⯑ment for a few hours in any part of a ſhort day, for ſuch the longeſt [64] will ſeem to thoſe who can ſo well employ it.

DRAWING and Painting are alſo delightful reſources to thoſe whom favouring Genius has led to ſuch ſweet arts; but talents for theſe are rare, and thoſe who are ſo peculiarly gifted, ſhould be par⯑ticularly grateful for ſuch rare endowments.

BUT beſides theſe inexhauſtible funds of rational amuſement, there are ſtill an infinite number of mi⯑nor reſources, which may afford us occupations ſufficient to combat [65] the tediouſneſs of life, even ſup⯑poſing it to be paſſed in ſolitude. The great variety of needle⯑works, which the ingenious women of other countries, as well as of our own, have invented, will fur⯑niſh us with conſtant and amuſing employment; and though our la⯑bours of the loom may not equal a MINERVA's, or an AYLESBURY's, yet if they unbend the mind by fixing its attention on the progreſs of any ele⯑gant or imitative art, they anſwer the purpoſe of domeſtic amuſement; and when the higher duties of our ſitu⯑ation do not call forth our exer⯑tion, we may feel the ſatisfaction [66] of knowing that we are, at leaſt, innocently employed.

WHILE under the influence of this calm ſentiment, we ſhall be leſs apt to ruſh into the torrent of diſſipation, where conjugal happi⯑neſs is too frequently loſt, or, at leaſt, endangered, by the poiſonous gales of flattery, which, though breathed from coxcombs whom we may in our hearts deſpiſe, will in ſome ſort render us deſpicable; for no woman liſtens to adula⯑tion whoſe vanity is not flattered bity.

[67]BUT there is ſtill another danger, from which conſtant and innocent amuſement may help to preſerve us; I mean the deſtructive vortex of a Gaming-table, where every ſoft and feminine grace is ſwal⯑lowed up by Avarice; where our internal peace muſt neceſſarily be deſtroyed by the anxious ſolici⯑tude of hope and fear, which can only terminate in the moſt pain⯑ful of all feelings to an ingenuous mind, the conſciouſneſs of hav⯑ing voluntarily erred.

AS the world is at preſent con⯑ſtituted, it is almoſt impoſſible [68] for any perſon who mixes with it to avoid play; and cards, as a mere amuſement, may ſometimes be deemed an innocent one. Converſation is not to be met with in large and mixed com⯑panies; and a card-table, conſi⯑dered as an univerſal leveller, may have its uſe, by placing the weak and timid on a par with the moſt lively and overbearing. But in order to render play what it ſhould be, an amuſement merely, a line muſt be drawn by the circumſtances of each indi⯑vidual, [69] with regard to the expence: for

There can be, therefore, but one general rule deviſed, which is, never to play for more than you can afford to loſe, without break⯑ing in upon the neceſſary claims of your family, your dreſs, or your charities. I ſhall only add, that thoſe who engage at play on any other terms than what I have men⯑tioned, will ſoon diſcover that they [70] have exchanged their down for thorns; and will, perhaps, too late remember the juſt picture which Mr. POPE has drawn of thoſe un⯑happy female beings who paſs, not ſpend, a life of idleneſs and diſſipation.

FRIENDSHIP.

THE Antients ranked Friendſhip in the ſecond claſs of human virtues; and many are the inſtances recorded in hiſtory, where its energy has produced effects almoſt divine. Conſidered in its perfect ſtrength and beauty, it certainly is the moſt ſublime, becauſe the leaſt ſel⯑fiſh, affection of the ſoul.

HONOUR is its very eſſence; courage, frankneſs, and generoſity, its unalienable properties. Such is the idea delivered down to us of [72] this noble ſentiment, by its cotem⯑porary writers, ‘"who together flouriſhed, and together fell:"’ for ſome centuries have elapſed, ſince this exalted phoenomenon has deigned to appear among the de⯑generate Sons of Men; and, like a mutilated ſtatue, it is now become rather an object of admiration to a few virtuoſi in philoſophy, than a ſubject for general emulation.

MONTAIGNE, amongſt the Mo⯑derns, ſeems to have felt a ſtronger emanation of this virtue, than any Author I am acquainted with; and tho' the utmoſt ſtretch of his warm [73] imagination gives us but a faint ray of its ancient luſtre, yet even this ſlight reſemblance appears too ſtrong for our weak eyes, and ſeems rather to dazzle than attract our regards.

OUR cotemporary, Dr. YOUNG, has left us ſeveral very beautiful deſcriptions of Friendſhip, which, though deficient of that fire which not only blazed but burned in this ancient virtue, are, however, ſuf⯑ficient to form both our theory and our practice upon.

This is a very pleaſing and juſt de⯑ſcription of Friendſhip in the ab⯑ſtract; but it wants that energy which particular attachments add to all our ſentiments, and without which, like a winter's ſun, they ſhine, but do not warm.

THE ſame Author has given us a more intereſting, tho', perhaps, leſs elevated idea of this affection of the mind, in his addreſs to a particular perſon:

[75]THIS is a new, and I think a juſt, light in which we may conſider this ſentiment; for though love may be formed without ſympathy, Friendſhip never can. It is, even in its degenerate ſtate, an affection that cannot ſubſiſt in vicious minds; and among the moſt virtuous, it requires a parity of ſentiment, manners, and rank, for its baſis. Of all the nice ties and dependen⯑cies which conſtitute the happineſs or miſery of life, it is the moſt de⯑licate, and even the moſt fragile. Wealth cannot purchaſe, nor gifts enſure, its permanence. ‘"The [76] chirping of birds in cages bears as much reſemblance to the vocal muſic of the woods, as bought courteſies to real friendſhip."’ The Great, alas! rarely enjoy this bleſſing; vanity and emulation prevent its growth among equals; and the humiliating condeſcenſion with which ſuperiors ſometimes deign to affect Friendſhip for their inferiors, ſtrikes at the very foun⯑dation of the ſentiment; from which there can only ariſe a tot⯑tering ſuperſtructure, whoſe pillars, like thoſe of modern compoſition, bear the gloſs, but want the durable [77] quality of the mental marble, ſin⯑cerity. Yet there have been in⯑ſtances, though rare, of real Friend⯑ſhip between perſons of different ranks in life, particularly Henry the Fourth and Sully; but the virtues of the latter placed him on a level with Monarchs, and the magnanimity of the former made him ſenſible of their equality.

YET how often are complaints uttered by diſappointed pride, againſt the ingratitude of thoſe whom they have honoured with the title of Friend, nay, and have even [78] ſerved and obliged as ſuch; without reflecting that obligations to a ge⯑nerous mind are inſults, when ac⯑companied with the leaſt ſlight or mortification.

ON the other hand we, perhaps, too willingly attach ourſelves to our ſuperiors. Our ſelf-love is flattered by their approbation, as it naturally imagines it can only be for our good and amiable qua⯑lities that they like or diſtinguiſh us. But tho' ‘"love, like death, makes all diſtinction void,"’ Friend⯑ſhip has no ſuch levelling power. [79] Superiority of rank or fortune is generally felt by the perſon who poſſeſſes either; and they are en⯑titled to ſome degree of praiſe, if they do not make others feel it alſo.

LET thoſe, then, who have de⯑licate minds, remember that equa⯑lity is the true baſis of Friendſhip; let them ſet a juſt value on their own worth, as well as on the inebri⯑ating ſmiles of greatneſs, and not expoſe their ſenſibility to the pangs it muſt ſuſtain, on diſcovering that neither virtues or talents can al⯑ways [80] keep the ſcale of Friendſhip ſteady, when oppoſed to the adven⯑titious circumſtances of high birth, or great fortune.

THUS far my remarks upon this ſubject are general. Let me now apply them to their uſe for whom this little work is peculiarly de⯑ſigned, by earneſtly recommending it to every young married woman to ſeek the friend of her heart in the huſband of her affection. There, and there only, is that true equali⯑ty, both of rank and fortune, ſtrengthened by mutual intereſts [81] and cemented by mutual pledges, to be found. There only conde⯑ſcenſions will not mortify, as they will be conceſſions but of kindneſs, not of pride. There, and there only, will ſhe be ſure to meet with reciprocal confidence, unfeigned attachment, and tender ſolicitude, to ſoothe her every care. The ties of wedded love will be rivetted by the bands of Friendſhip; the virtues of her mind, when called ſorth by occaſion, will unfold themſelves by degrees to her huſbands per⯑ception, like the opening roſe be⯑fore the morning ray; and when [82] its blooming colour fades upon her cheek, its ſweetneſs ſhall remain within the very foldings of his heart, from recollection of her ſenſe and worth. Happy are the pairs ſo joined; yea, bleſſed are they who are thus doubly united!

AS the word Friendſhip is at preſent generally underſtood to be a term of little import, or at moſt that extends merely to a preference of liking, or eſteem; I would by no means exclude my fair Readers from that kind of commerce which is now accepted under that [83] title, in ſociety. But even this ſort of connection requires much caution in the choice of its object; for I ſhould wiſh it might be re⯑ſtrained to one; and that one ought to obtain this preference, from the qualities of the heart rather than thoſe of the head. A long and intimate acquaintance can alone diſcover the former; the latter are eaſily and willingly diſplayed; for love without eſteem is as a ſhower, ſoon ſpent. The head is the ſpring of affections, but the heart is the reſervoir.

[84]FOR this reaſon, it always ap⯑pears to me a proof of mutual me⯑rit, when two ſiſters, or two young women, who have been brought up together, are ſtrongly attached to each other; and I will admit, that while they remain unmarried, ſuch a connection is capable of forming a pure and diſintereſted friendſhip, provided that the ſym⯑pathy of their affections does not tend to make them like or admire the ſame male object; for though Love may, Friendſhip cannot exiſt with jealouſy.

[85]THAT great maſter of the hu⯑man heart SHAKESPEARE has ſhewn us, that maidenly attachment is no match for the ſtronger paſſion of love.

IF ſuch an almoſt inſtinctive af⯑fection as that between Hermia and Helena was ſo quickly diſſolved by the intruder Love, I fear there are but few female friendſhips that will better ſtand the teſt. And to a de⯑licate mind it may appear a breach, perhaps, of thoſe ‘"ſiſter vows,"’ [87] when one of the parties enters into another and more forcible engage⯑ment; for Love is an imperious and engroſſing tyrant; of courſe the gentler affection muſt give way and retire within itſelf, as the ſenſitive plant ſhrinks back, oppreſſed by too intenſe an heat.

IN my ſmall experience, I have never ſeen the ſame degree of at⯑tachment ſubſiſt between two la⯑dies after marriage as before, ex⯑cepting they were ſiſters. The bands of natural affection are not looſened by new engagements; [88] but thoſe of choice or caſualty ne⯑ceſſarily become relaxed by the addition of a new object, as exten⯑ſion leſſens ſtrength.

THE minds of moſt young wo⯑men ſeem, and indeed ought to do ſo in reality, to acquire a new bent after marriage: ſcenes different from thoſe to which they had been accuſtomed, open to their view; different objects engroſs their at⯑tention; every ſtate has its cares; and, from the queen to the peaſant, every wife has duties to fulfil. Frivolous amuſements are, or ſhould [89] be, renounced, for the more plea⯑ſing and reſpectable avocations of an affectionate Wife, a tender Mo⯑ther, and a beloved and honoured Matron of a family.

I HOPE it is impoſſible that I ſhould be ſo far miſunderſtood, as to be thought to exclude married women from any innocent pleaſure or rational amuſement that is ſuited to their age, rank, or fortune. I would not only enſure but augment their happineſs, and ſhall therefore ſay with Othello, ‘"Where virtue is, theſe are moſt virtuous."’ [90] But ſtill there is, or ſhould be, a difference in the enjoyment of their pleaſures; between the thoughtleſs gaiety of girls, and the decent chearfulneſs of married women. The firſt is bright and tranſient, as the youthful glow of health and vivacity that blooms upon the cheek; the latter ſhould expreſs that tranquil joy which flows from true content.

I MAY be thought to have ſome⯑what wandered from the particular ſubject of this chapter, though, I hope, not from the general ob⯑ject of the work. I ſhall now con⯑clude [91] with obſerving, that as the characters and conduct of even her common acquaintance reflect ho⯑nour or diſgrace upon a young married woman, ſhe will be an ine⯑vitable ſharer in that degree of reſpect or contempt which her choſen friend poſſeſſes in the eſteem of the world: and though its cenſures may ſometimes involve the innocent with the guilty; yet, in general, there is no fairer way of forming our opinions of perſons we do not know, than from their intimate aſſociates.

[92]THERE is ſomething ſtill more alarming to be dreaded for a young woman who is thoughtleſs enough to form indiſcriminate friendſhips. There is a lightneſs of mind and manners in many women, who, though free from actual vice, have loſt that delicate ſenſibility which Heaven has placed in female minds as the out-guard of modeſty. The roſy bluſh that gives the intuitive alarm to decency, even before the perceptions of the mind are awake to danger, glows not upon their cheek; the ſnowy purity of inno⯑cence beams not upon their daunt⯑leſs [93] forehead, though it may ſtill retain its whiteneſs. Their minds may be coarſe, however delicate their form; and their manners unfeminine, even without being maſculine.

AN intimacy with ſuch perſons is, of all others, the moſt danger⯑ous. The frankneſs and livelineſs of their converſation render them too generally agreeable, and they frequently undermine the prin⯑ciples of virtue, before we find it neceſſary to ſtand upon our guard.

[94]AS the Platonic ſyſtem has been long exploded, it is almoſt unne⯑ceſſary to warn my fair Readers againſt particular intimacies with the other ſex, when not cloſely connected with them by the ties of blood or affinity. The whole ſyſ⯑tem of Nature muſt change, and the tyger and the lamb live peace⯑ably together, before a ſincere and diſintereſted friendſhip can ſubſiſt between an amiable young woman and a man not nearly related to her, who has not paſſed his grand cli⯑macteric. A man of ſuch an age, poſſeſſed of ſenſe and virtue, may [95] perhaps be a kind and uſeful Men⯑tor; but if a married woman is happy enough to meet with a pro⯑per and affectionate return from the firſt object I have recom⯑mended to her choice, ſhe cannot ſtand in need of any other Friend.

PARENTAL and FILIAL AFFECTION.

PARENTAL Affection ſeems to be ſo perfectly inſtinctive, that when any unhappy object ap⯑pears to be deficient in this natural ſentiment, I conſider ſuch a perſon as one who has been unfortunately born deaf or blind; that is, in a ſtate of deprivation of ſome of thoſe faculties which Providence has been graciouſly pleaſed to ren⯑der inherent in our nature, in its perfect formation.

[97]IF Milton deplored the loſs of ſight, as ſhutting knowledge at one entrance out, with how much more reaſon may they, who are inſen⯑ſible to the fond and tender ſen⯑ſations of parental love, lament, that the faireſt page in Nature's volume, the infant mind, appears to them a blank; and tranſports ſuch as parents only feel, from their cold hearts for evermore ſhut out!

THAT every ſpecies of animals have ſometimes produced monſters, is certain; but, by the goodneſs of [98] Providence, they are few in number, when compared with the happy multitudes who are perfect in their ſeveral orders of exiſtence. It is, therefore, unneceſſary to purſue this painful idea further; ſo that I ſhall only add, to the honour of England, that an unfeeling parent is among us a character almoſt as ſingular as deteſtable.

BUT as affection in its natural progreſſion rather deſcends than aſ⯑cends, we ſometimes ſee inſtances of deficiency in the returns of filial affection to parental love. When⯑ever [99] this failure appears in perſons of otherwiſe good and amiable diſ⯑poſitions, I am inclined to believe that there muſt have been ſomething peculiarly wrong in the bias of their education, or the conduct of their parents towards them; for in a ſtate of infancy every child muſt naturally love its parents; they are the firſt objects which awaken in us the ideas of power and kindneſs; of a power that enables, and a kindneſs that prompts, to ſupply all our little wants, and to ſoothe and alleviate all our pains and di⯑ſtreſſes. Long before we are able [100] to develope theſe ideas, they na⯑turally produce the almoſt inſtinc⯑tive ſenſations of reverence, grati⯑tude, and love. Theſe happy feelings of a virtuous mind ‘"Grow with our growth, and ſtrengthen with our ſtrength,"’ till ſenſation becomes ſentiment, which can never be totally eradi⯑cated, though it may ſometimes be reſtrained, or even overborne for a while, by ſome particular ſpecies of unkindneſs, ſeverity, or injuſtice.

BUT though the ſentiments of filial affection are ſo natural to every [101] good heart, that Sovereign Power which formed us, ‘"and knoweth whereof we are made,"’ has thought proper to command the exertion of this virtue in its fulleſt extent, by the emphatic term of Honour thy Father and thy Mother, and has been graciouſly pleaſed to add the promiſe of length of days to thoſe who fulfil this law.

WHEN the ties of natural af⯑fection are thus enforced by the Divine ſanction, it appears almoſt impoſſible that any caſualty ſhould diſſolve this double band, or that [102] it ſhould even be weakened by any other attachment.

THE union which is formed by wedded love, can never ſlacken or abate its ſtrength; for in liberal minds the encreaſe of happineſs, like the ſun's beams upon a fertile ſoil, calls every virtue forth; the tender charities which gladden life are ripened and matured beneath its influence; while the flowers of connubial fondneſs bloom faireſt, and are ſweeteſt to the ſenſe, when they grow on the rich ſtem of filial love: and a huſband muſt [103] be either weak or tyrannic, who does not rejoice in the kindneſs and attention of his wife to thoſe who have been early and are nearly connected with her.

FAMILY attachments have this advantage over all others, that they are not ſubject to ſatiety. Parental fondneſs is augmented by the growth and expanſion of every charm and merit in a child; and as it naturally happens that the pa⯑rents begin to decline when the children have arrived at their zenith, reverence for their age and grati⯑tude [104] for their kindneſs, combined with the tender apprehenſion of loſing them, add ſtrength to our former affectionate feelings, and awaken that almoſt divine enthu⯑ſiaſm which inſpired Pope's filial prayer:

THE proportions of our affec⯑tion and eſteem muſt neceſſarily, [105] becauſe naturally, be limited by the reſpective merits of the perſons on whom they are conferred. Rea⯑ſon admits not of ſuperſtitious at⯑tachments in point of ſentiment. But no demerit in a parent can abſolve a child from that duty which has the double ſanction both of God and Nature. How truly are they to be pitied, who, either from their own or their parents' defects, are unhappily rendered inſenſible to the virtuous tranſport of giving joy to thoſe who gave them being! who, incapable of the pleaſing alacrity ariſing from [106] filial affection, fulfil the requeſts or wiſhes of a parent with the ſame reluctant coldneſs that they would execute the commands of a ſevere maſter!

PARENTAL authority is certain⯑ly abrogated by that of a huſband—‘"We cannot ſerve two maſters."’ But we can love a father and a huſband, a mother and a ſon, with as pure and unmixed affection, as if our whole heart was devoted to any one of theſe individuals. Fa⯑mily connections, ſo far from being diſſolved by marriage, are rather [107] ſtrengthened by the addition of a new member, and ſhould continue to hold the firſt place in the ſociety of a young married woman. If ſhe is ſo happy as to approve, and be approved by, her huſband's family, her love for him will incor⯑porate them in her eſteem with her own. She will naturally be⯑come the center of their mutual attachments and regard; while her amiable and endearing influ⯑ence extending to each individual, ſhall unite them all in one com⯑plete and happy circle.

OECONOMY.

THIS is a ſubject which de⯑pends ſo entirely upon cir⯑cumſtances, that, like the came⯑leon, it muſt neceſſarily take its hue from the ſurrounding objects: but though obliged to vary its appearance from its different ſitua⯑tions, it has ſtill ſome fixed and determinate principles which con⯑ſtitute its eſſence, and preſerve its name in every condition of life. Oeconomy may be compared to an iſthmus placed between a conti⯑nent [109] and a peninſula, between pro⯑fuſion and parſimony, bearing equal relation to both. It is a line drawn by the hand of Reaſon upon the human mind to reſtrain the thoughtleſs exceſs of extrava⯑gance, too often miſcalled gene⯑roſity, and at the ſame time to ſet bounds to the meaneſt of all vices, avarice.

NEITHER rank nor riches can place any perſon above oeconomy; and perhaps thoſe who poſſeſs ſuch advantages in the higheſt degree, have the greateſt occaſion for the [110] practice of this humble virtue.—‘"Where much is given, much is required,"’ as well in the literal as the figurative ſenſe of the expreſ⯑ſion; and when thoſe who are bleſſed with affluence conſider themſelves, as they are bound to do, but as ſtewards for the poor, they muſt ſurely reflect that diſſi⯑pation and extravagance are not the uſe, but the abuſe, of that ſtore which has been thus entruſted to their care, and that ſuch miſappli⯑cation cannot entitle them to fair acquittance from the great Giver of all good.

[111]BUT were we to confine our views even to this dim ſpot, we ſhall find that oeconomy is, in every ſituation of life, a requiſite and neceſſary duty incumbent on human nature. They muſt be very young indeed, who have not heard

And what muſt then be the feelings of a generous heart, which from its indolence, or the vile indul⯑gence of ſome fond caprice, has become ſelf-deprived of that tran⯑ſcendant [112] delight which Angels ſhare with Men, of wiping off the bitter tear of woe, of ſoothing the afflicted heart, and bidding peace and joy reviſit the ſad manſions of deſpair!

OECONOMY is as perfectly in⯑conſiſtent with avarice as with extravagance. Whenever it de⯑generates into penuriouſneſs, it ceaſes to be a virtue, and appears even a leſs pardonable fault than its contrary ex⯑treme; for extravagance may be prompted by generoſity, but ſelfiſhneſs can have no motive [113] that is not mean. Oeconomy is founded in that juſtice which we owe to others, and in that proper reſpect which we owe to ourſelves: theſe principles, happily united, form the true ſource of liberality and independence.

THERE is an oeconomy of time, too, as well as of fortune, which I would earneſtly recommend. A little attention to this very im⯑portant article would ſerve to lighten that ſad load of which we oft complain, while yet with childiſh fondneſs we lament its [114] flight! perhaps unknowing that it is within our power to wing its ſpeed, or to arreſt its courſe; or, perhaps, ſtill worſe, not reflect⯑ing that we ſhall be accountable for this rich, this ſacred depoſit, when time itſelf ſhall be no more!

FOR the proper oeconomy of this treaſure, one general rule is ſufficient for all ranks and ſitua⯑tions—Employ your time—‘"Time waſted is exiſtence, uſed is life;"’ and every condition and ſtage of life has its neceſſary and peculiar employments.

[115]ACTION is the great ſpring on which Creation turns; it is that preſerves and harmonizes all. Even things inanimate, trees, plants, and flowers, obey the voice of Nature, and act in their own ſphere. Un⯑bidden they ſend forth their fruits and odours, and pay their tribute to Creation's laws. The elements them⯑ſelves ſubſiſt by motion. Without its actuating ſpirit the earth no more could turn upon its axis; the fire would be extinct, and air and water ſtagnate to putrefaction. Shall Man alone, the maſter-work of Heaven, ruſt in dull indolence, [116] and, ſinking in enervate ſloth, de⯑baſe his nature beneath the trodden clod? formed to contemplate all the works of God, to think upon the wonders of paſt times, and raiſe his future hopes to an eter⯑nity!

NO reaſoning being can doubt, but that the uſe or abuſe of time [117] muſt mark our future fate, as we ourſelves ordain:

BUT for a moment let us admit that conſcience could be lulled to reſt on beds of roſes, or that the waſte of time might not be deemed a vice; is there on earth a human being ſo loſt to every ſenſe of its own dignity as to acquieſce in bare exiſtence, and to look back upon the ſum of that exiſtence as a blank? This laſt argument appears [118] to me ſo fully ſufficient to awaken that noble pride, that true ſelf-eſtimation which Heaven has im⯑planted in our ſouls, for the great purpoſe of exalting our nature above the ſubordinate claſſes of animals, who are debarred the glo⯑rious prerogative of looking for⯑ward with humble hope to an happy immortality, that I ſhould think any other incitement would be ſuperfluous upon this ſubject; which I ſhall therefore conclude with the intereſting picture which the laſt Author quoted above has given, of thoſe happy few who [119] have made a right uſe of that trea⯑ſure that Heaven has been pleaſed to entruſt them with.