Of policy, that, midst the wrecks of time, The assault of foreign or domestic crime; LESSON LXII. Extracts from "A Father's Legacy to his Daughters."— GREGORY. THERE are many circumstances in your situation, that peculiarly require the supports of religion, to enable you to act in them with spirit and propriety. Your whole life is often a life of suffering. You cannot plunge into business, or dissipate yourselves in pleasure and riot, as men too often do, when under the pressure of misfortunes. You must bear your sorrows in silence, unknown and unpitied. You must often put on a face of serenity and cheerfulness, when your hearts are torn with anguish, or sinking in despair. Then your only resource is in the consolations of religion. Be punctual in the stated performance of your private devotions, morning and evening. If you have any sensibility or imagination, this will establish such an intercourse between you and the Supreme Being, as will be of infinite consequence to you in life. It will communicate an habitual cheerfulness to your tempers, give a firmness and steadiness to your virtue, and enable you to go through all the vicissitudes of human life with propriety and dignity. Cultivate an enlarged charity for all mankind, however they may differ from you in their religious opinions. That difference may probably arise from causes in which you had no share, and from which you can derive no merit. The best effect of your religion will be a diffusive humanity to all in distress. Set apart a certain proportion of your income as sacred to charitable purposes. But in this, as well as in the practice of every other duty, carefully avoid ostentation. Vanity is always defeating her own purposes. Fame e natural rewards of virtue. Do not pursue her, I follow you. ɔnfine your charity to giving money. You may opportunities of showing a tender and compasit, where your money is not wanted. There is a nnatural refinement in sensibility, which makes e shun the sight of every object in distress. Never s, especially where your friends or acquaintances ed. Let the days of their misfortunes, when the ets or avoids them, be the season for you to exerhumanity and friendship. The sight of human ens the heart, and makes it better: it checks the ealth and prosperity; and the distress it occasions compensated by the consciousness of doing your by the secret endearment which nature has annexed ympathetic sorrows. the chief beauties in a female character, is that erve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the public s disconcerted even at the gaze of admiration. I h you to be insensible to applause. If you were, become, if not worse, at least less amiable women. may be dazzled by that admiration, which yet re:hearts. à girl ceases to blush, she has lost the most powerful beauty. That extreme sensibility, which it indiy be a weakness and encumbrance in our sex; but it is peculiarly engaging. Pedants, who think s philosophers, ask why a woman should blush, is conscious of no crime. It is a sufficient answer, re has made you to blush when you are guilty of no has forced us to love you because you do so. is so far from being necessarily an attendant on t it is the usual companion of innocence. odesty, which I think so essential in your sex, will dispose you to be rather silent in company, espea large one. People of sense and discernment will stake such silence for dulness. One may take a conversation without uttering a syllable. The exin the countenance shows it, and this never escapes ving eye. 14 Wit is the most dangerous talent you can possess. It nust be guarded with great discretion and good nature, oth erwise it will create you many enemies. Wit is perfectly consistent with softness and delicacy; yet they are seldom ound united. Wit is so flattering to vanity, that they who possess it, become intoxicated, and lose all self-command. Humor is a different quality. It will make your company nuch solicited; but be cautious how you indulge it. It is ften a great enemy to delicacy, and a still greater one to ignity of character. It may sometimes gain you applause, out will never procure you respect. LESSON LXIII. The same,-concluded. BEWARE of detraction, especially where your own sex are -oncerned. You are generally accused of being particularly ddicted to this vice-I think, unjustly. Men are fully as guilty of it, when their interests interfere. As your interests nore frequently clash, and as your feelings are quicker than urs, your temptations to it are more frequent. For this eason, be particularly tender of the reputation of your own ex, especially when they happen to rival you in our regards. We look on this as the strongest proof of dignity and true -reatness of mind. Have a sacred regard to truth. Lying is a mean and desicable vice. I have known some women of excellent parts, who were so much addicted to it, that they could not be rusted in the relation of any story, especially if it contained ny thing of the marvellous, or if they themselves were the eroines of the tale. This weakness did not proceed from a ad heart, but was merely the effect of vanity, or an unbridled magination. I do not mean to censure that lively embellishnent of a humorous story, which is only intended to promote nocent mirth. There is a certain gentleness of spirit and manners exremely engaging in your sex; not that indiscriminate atten unmeaning simper, which smiles on all alike. , either from an affectation of softness, or from pidity. ecommend to your attention, that elegance, which uch a quality itself, as the high polish of every is what diffuses an ineffable grace over every look, on, every sentence you utter. It gives that charm without which it generally fails to please. It is ersonal quality, in which respect it is the gift but I speak of it, principally, as a quality of the a word, it is the perfection of taste in life and -every virtue and every excellency in their most nd amiable forms. y, perhaps, think that I want to throw every spark out of your composition, and to make you entirely Far from it. I wish you to possess the most perLicity of heart and manners. I think you may gnity without pride, affability without meanness, e elegance without affectation. particularly recommend to you those exercises, e you to be much abroad in the open air, such as and riding on horseback. These will give vigor to stitutions, and a bloom to your complexions. An to your health is a duty you owe to yourselves and iends. Bad health seldom fails to have an influthe spirits and temper. The finest geniuses, the icate minds, have very frequently a correspondent of bodily constitution, which they are too apt to Their luxury lies in reading and late hours, equal to health and beauty. omestic economy of a family is entirely a woman's and furnishes a variety of subjects for the exertion good sense and good taste. If you ever come to charge of a family, it ought to engage much of your attention; nor can you be excused from this by any f fortune, though, with a narrow one, the ruin that che neglect of it may be more immediate. ot confine your attention to dress to your public apes. Accustom yourselves to an habitual neatness; so the most careless undress, in your most unguarded urs, you may have no reason to be ashamed of your ap arance. You will not easily believe how much we consider ur dress as expressive of your characters. Vanity, levity, ■venliness, folly, appear through it. An elegant simplicity an equal proof of taste and delicacy. In dancing, the principal points you are to attend to, are se and grace. I would have you dance with spirit: but ver allow yourselves to be so far transported with mirth, as forget the delicacy of your sex. Many a girl, dancing in e gaiety and innocence of her heart, is thought to discover spirit she little dreams of. In the choice of your friends, have your principal regard goodness of heart and fidelity. If they also possess taste d genius, that will make them still more agreeable and eful companions. You have particular reason to place nfidence in those, who have shown affection for you in your rly days, when you were incapable of making them any turn. This is an obligation for which you cannot be too ateful. If you have the good fortune to meet with any who derve the name of friends, unbosom yourself to them with e most unsuspicious confidence. It is one of the world's axims, never to trust any person with a secret, the discovery I which could give you any pain; but it is the maxim of a tle mind and a cold heart, unless where it is the effect of equent disappointments and bad usage. An open temper, restrained but by tolerable prudence, will make you, on the hole, much happier than a reserved, suspicious one, although ou may sometimes suffer by it. Coldness and distrust are at the too certain consequences of age and experience; but ey are unpleasant feelings, and need not be anticipated efore their time. But, however open you may be in talking of your own afirs, never disclose the secrets of one friend to another. hese are private deposits, which do not belong to you, nor ■ve you any right to make use of them. |