people's eyes as much as possible, and not attract them; for they are really quite a deplorable sight, and their very faces are a standing lesson against the strange lives they

lead.

People in a lower life, it is true, do not act so ridiculously as those in a higher; but even among them too there is a vast difference between the people that live well, and the people that live ill: the former are more healthy, in better spirits, fitter for business, and more attentive to it; the latter are more negligent, more uneasy, more contemptible, and more frequently the subjects of disease.

In truth, either in high or low life, virtue is only another name for happiness, and debauchery is the right road to misery; and this, to me, appears just as true and evident, as that moderation is always good for us, and excess always hurtful.

But is it not a charming thing to have youth and beauty -to be followed and admired-to have presents offered from all sides to one-to be invited to all diversions, and to be distinguished by the men from all the rest of the company? Yes, my dear child; all this would be charming, if we had nothing to do but to dance and receive presents, and if this distinction of you were to last always. But the mischief of it is, that these things cannot be enjoyed without increasing your vanity every time you enjoy them, and swelling up a passion in you that must soon be balked and disappointed. How long is this beauty to last? There are but few faces that can keep it to the other side of five and twenty; and how would you bear it, after having been used to be thus distinguished and admired for some time, to sink out of the notice of people, and to be neglected and perhaps affronted, by the very persons who used to pay the greatest adoration to you?

Do you remember the gentleman that was with us last autumn, and his presenting you with that pretty flower one day on his coming out of the garden? I do not know whether you understood him or not, but I could read it in his looks, that he meant it for a lesson to you. It is true the flower was quite a pretty one; but though you put it in water, you know it faded, and grew disagreeable in four or five days; and if it had not been cropped but suffered to grow in the garden, it would have done the same in nine or ten. Now a year is to beauty, what a day was to that flower; and who would value themselves much on the pos

session of a thing, which they are so sure to lose in so short a time?

Nine or ten years are what one may call the natural term of life for beauty in a young woman, but by accidents, or misbehaviour, it may die long before its time. The greater part of what people call beauty in your face, for instance, is owing to that air of innocence and modesty that is in it. If once you should suffer yourself to be ensnared by vicious inclinations, all that would soon vanish, and assurance and ugliness would come in the room of it.

But persevere in the path of virtue, and that will be a beauty which shall last to the end of your days; for it will be only the more confirmed and brightened by time; that will secure your esteem, when all the present form of your face is vanished away, and will be always ripening into greater and greater charms. These my sentiments you will take as a blessing, and remember they come from the heart of a tender and affectionate mother.

LETTER VIII.

Miss in Answer to Mrs., making an Apology for not answering her Letter sooner.

Dear Madam,

It is paying you an ill compliment to let one of the most entertaining letters I have met with for some years remain so long unacknowledged: but when I inform you I have had a house full of strangers almost ever since, who have taken up all my time, I am sure you will excuse, if not pity me.

"Who steals my purse, steals trash:

"Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands:

But he who filches from me precious moments,

Robs me of that which not enriches him,

But makes me poor indeed."

It is owing to this want, I should not say loss of time (for the hours have not passed by unimproved or unentertaining) that I have not been able to tell you sooner, how nuch I envy that leisure and retirement, of which you make such admirable use. There it is the mind unbends and enlarges itself; drops off the forms and incumbrances' of this world (which, like garments trailed about for state, as some author has it, only hinder our motion) and seizes and enjoys the liberty it was born to. Oh, when shall I see

my little farm! that calm recess, low in the vale of obscu rity, my imagination so often paints to me! You know I am always in raptures about the country; but your description of Richmond is enough to intoxicate the soundest head.

Adieu! I am interrupted, and in haste, so obliged to conclude. Yours truly.

LETTER IX.

Miss J. to Miss L. on Letter Writing,

WANT of time, I think, the greatest complaint of all letter writers; and, yours in haste, concludes wit, business, every thing. For my own part, my whole life is little more than a perpetual hurry of doing nothing; and, I think, I never had more business of that sort upon my hands than now. But as I can generally find time to do any thing I have a mind to do, so I can always contrive to be at leisure to pay my respects to Miss L.

But the most universal complaint among scribblers of my rank, is want of sense. These generally begin with an apology for their long silence, and end with that moving petition, Excuse this nonsense. This is modest indeed; but, though I am excessively good natured, I am resolved for the future, not to pardon it entirely in any one but myself, I have often thought there never was a letter written well, but was written easily; and, if I had not some private reasons for being of a contrary opinion at this time, should conclude this to be a masterpiece of this kind, both in easiness, in thought, and facility of expression. And in this easiness of writing (which Mr. Wycherly says is easily written) methinks I excel even Mr. Pope himself, who is often too elaborate and ornamental, even in some of his best letters; though, it must be confessed, he outdoes me in some few trifles of another sort, such as spirit, taste, and sense. But let me tell Mr. Pope, that letters, like beauties, may be over-drest. There is a becoming negligence in both; and if Mr. Pope could only contrive to write without a genius, I do not know any one so likely to hit off my manners as himself. But he insists upon it, that genius is as necessary towards writing, as straw towards making bricks; whereas it is notorious, that the Israelites made bricks without that material as well as with it.

The conclusion of the whole matter is this: I never had more inclination to write to you, and never fewer materials at hand to write with: therefore have fled for refuge to my old companion dullness, which is ever at hand to assist me; and have made use of all those genuine expressions of it, which are included under the notion of want of time, want of spirit, and, in short, want of every thing but the most unfeigned regard for you.

I remain,
Most truly yours.

LETTER X.

From a Lady to a Gentleman who had paid his Addresses to her,

Sir,

I RECEIVED your letter last night, and as it was on a subject I had not yet any thoughts of, you will not wonder when I tell you I was a good deal surprised. Although I have seen you at different times, yet I had not the most distant thoughts of your making proposals of such a nature. Some of your sex have often asserted that we are fond of flattery, and mightily pleased to be praised; I shall therefore suppose it true, and excuse you for those fulsome encomiums bestowed upon me in your letter; but am afraid, if I were to comply with your proposals, you would soon be convinced that the charms you mention, and seem to value so much, are merely exterior appearances, which, like the summer's flower, will very soon fade, and all those mighty professions of love will end at last either in indiffe rence, or, which is worse, disgust. You desire me to enquire of my aunt concerning your character and family. You must excuse me when I tell you, that I am obliged to decline making any such enquiry. However, as your beha viour, when in my company, was always agreeable, I shall treat you with as much respect as is consistent with common decorum. My worthy guardian, Mr. Melvill, is now. at his seat in Devonshire, and his conduct to me has been so much like that of a parent, that I do not choose to take one step in an affair of such importance without both his, consent and approbation. There is an appearance of sincerity runs through your letter; but there is one particular to which I have a very strong objection, it is this: you say that you live with your mother, yet you do

not say you have either communicated your sentiments to her, or your other relations. I must freely and honestly tell you, that as I would not disoblige my own relations, so neither would I, on any consideration, admit of any addresses contrary to the inclinations of yours. If you can clear up this to my satisfaction, I shall send you a more explicit answer, and am, Sir,

Your most obedient humble servant.

LETTER XI.

The Gentleman's Answer to the above.

Dear Madam,

I RETURN you a thousand thanks for your letter, and it is with the greatest pleasure that I can clear up to your satisfaction the cause of your hesitation. Before I wrote to you I communicated the affair to my two cousins; but had not courage sufficient to mention it to my mother; however, that is now over, and nothing, she says, would give her greater pleasure, than to see me married to a young lady of your amiable character: nay, so far is she from having any objections, that she would have waited on you as the bearer of this, had I not persuaded her against it, as she has been these three days afflicted with a severe cold, and I was afraid, that if she had ventured abroad so soon, it might be attended with dangerous consequences. But, to convince you of my sincerity, she has sent the enclosed, written with her own hand, and whatever may be the contents, I solemnly assure you that I am totally ignorant of them, except that she told me it was in approbation of my suit. If you will give me leave to wait on you, I shall then be able to explain things more particularly. I am, dear madam, Your real admirer.

LETTER XII.

From the Gentleman's Mother to the young Lady.

Dear Miss,

If you find any thing in these lines improperly written, you will candidly excuse it, as coming from the hands of a parent, in behalf of an only, beloved, aud dutiful son.