■If" mm mm mm ran (■■ > < (J»Wi1Lf/ , S vyOA»'ifi>i ';'>- ■; '".■• : ; ..:•■.,.■■■' ■■• Hill o ^0 X W v^ *' 3 4^ -V s ' Of ^ ** 3* V ^ ^0 X .0^ \ _ v. I 8 . /: , . > v N * - ' <<■ -£> V * . & - . \ J> "^ *J, $ ■V;. ■f- v V^ ! cN * A c- \ ;f v '->, 0^ ^ -A V %. d **. C \' X \ 0o, SEVEN LECTURES osr FEMALE EDUCATION, INSCRIBED TO l a. in *€)£ AT ELM-WOOD, ESSEX COUNTY, VIRGINIA BY THEIR VERY SINCERE FRIEND, JAMES M. GARNETT RICHMOND: PRINTED BY T. W. WHITE, MARKET-BRIDGE. 1824. LC|4-«H .- . ,(j3 : * : ; a i DISTRICT OF VIRGINIA, TO WIT: &&&&&&& Be it remembered, That on the twenty-se ^WWWW^m yenth day of Julyj in the forty-ninth year of ^ L S ^ the Independence of the United States of Ame- # # rica, Thomas W. Wuite, of the said district, ####### hath deposited in this office, the title of a book, the right whereof lie claims as proprietor, in the words follow- ing, to wit : « Seven Lectures on Female Education, inscribed to Mrs. Gametics Pupils, at Elm-Wood, Essex County, Virginia ; by their very sincere friend, Jakes M. Garnett." In conformity to the act of the Congress of the United States, en- titled, " An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the authors and proprietors of such copies, durincr the times therein mentioned." ■' Vi ' * R'D. JEFFRIES, Clerk of the District of Virginia. By Transfer 0. C. Public Library w 5 A"« * if A % MAY « 1919 WASH * T OK>3, - P. CX EEOBIVSI), ^ SEP 3 01903 ifHlNCTON f. r.vi3H7 JV4C I If \ M •AV- K:w, Sir or Madam, I have tried, and tried, and can't learn it. This plaguy thing is too hard — pray let me try something else:" When probably the whole trial has consisted in first taking a cursory look, and then holding the book the rest of the time, apparently pe- rusing it, but in fact not studying a single word that it contains, and only gazing at the letters as so many unintelligible hieroglyphicks cut upon paper for no other purpose but to plague all such little girls as greatly prefer play to study. To labour more or less, is the lot of the whole human race ; it is the eternal law of our nature ; and none have the smallest rigb« 26 to expect that they can gain either learning or wisdoiu without paying a portion of this tax for it. Would you therefore be either wise or learned, you must be content to encounter some toil for such an inestimable blessing. But plain, common sense, diligent appli- cation, and patient study are all the weapons you will really need for combating — aye, and conquering too, all the bug-bear books that will ever be put into youv hands* Another means of improvement, scarce less neces- sary than those already mentioned, is never to make invidious or discouraging comparisons between your own progress, and that of others. By the first, you will lose in envy infinitely more than you can gain in knowledge,— -to say nothing of the great effect which the perception or conceit of your being a little more advanced than your associates, will have in relaxing your own exertions. And by the last, your improve- ment may not only appear less than it really is ; but you may ascribe your want of equal information to inferior capacity, when it has really proceeded from the want of equal diligence. The true way is, to com- pare your own progress with itself. In other words, contrast from time to time, your present with your past acquirements; and if you find upon an impartial examination that you have advanced, and feel a strong desire still to go on, you need never despair of suc- cess. The calumniators of your sex have so long, and so often imputed to you, fickleness, petulance, 27 want of perseverance, and incapacity for close study and scientific acquirement, as peculiar characteristicks, that some ladies seem actually to have been persuaded the imputation was true. Indeed, not a few have gone still farther, and if we are to judge by their practice, not only take no pains to disprove the slander, but would lead us to believe, that they even deemed these qualities feminine prettinesses and graces. But you may rest well assured, my young friends, that there is no imaginable reason for thinking any of those mental qualifications which are most praise-worthy in our sex, either censurable, or unattainable in yours. The divine author of our being, can never have de- signed, that faults in one sex, should be virtues in the other ; nor that mental perfection in man, should be mental imperfection in woman. To learn and to teach; to suffer calamity and relieve distress; — to endure misery or enjoy happiness, is equally the lot and the privilege of both. Courage to meet danger, fortitude to suffer pain, temperance in prosperity, resignation in adversity, diligent application in acquiring useful information, and perseverance in duty, is neither less necessary, nor more commendable in the one, than in tiie other. Away then, — for ever away with all such silly affectation of qualities or practices as you would justly ridicule and despise in our sex, under the utterly false notion, that they are at least allowable, if not re- ally attractive in yours. Rely upon it that the senti- ments and habits which would make a foolish and con- temptible man> can never make a wise and amiable 28 woman. You might as well cultivate wens, carbun- cles and warts for beauty-spots in your faces, as quali- ties, which in fact would be deformities in your mind. No lady would ever think, for a moment, of doing the first; — why then, should they ever be guilty of the last, which is not only equally absurd, but actually wicked. Although some of these remarks would be more appro- priate when lecturing upon temper; yet they are so closely connected with the means of improvement in literature and science, that I could not altogether omit them here. The last Rule which I will give you, is to suffer no- thing to divert or withdraw your attention from the immediate object of investigation, during the time which you are required to devote to it. A great mas- ter of eloquence being once asked, what were the three requisites to constitute an orator, replied : — " Action, action, action ;" and were a similar question propound- ed in regard to the acquisition of useful knowledge, we might with equal truth, answer : " Patient appli- cation, — patient application, — patient application :" for in the constant exercise of this consists the whole secret. The fable of the tortoise and his travelling companions, is a most happy illustration of this fact ; for he arrived first at the place of destination, although incomparably less qualified to all appearance for the undertaking, than either of the party. Never intermit, therefore, your exertions to conquer any apparent dif- ficulty which your lessons for the time being, may 29- present ; and a degree of success sufficiently encou- raging to enable you to go on* prosperously, will as- suredly follow. Learn to rely on your own powers, and they will not only seldom fail you, but they will strengthen with every fresh exertion. One lesson got for yourselves and by yourselves, is worth forty which other people get for you. Indeed, no information ob- tained in the latter mode is worth much more, than the knowledge of a parrot. You can only repeat, with- out understanding, what has been told to you; and so can poor Poll. The petted, feathered prater, can look full as wise too, as the little Miss who is content to learn in no better way, than repeating by rote what she has heard others utter. Thus equipped for show, and a poor show indeed will it be, the most she can hope is, to pass muster among the equally vain pre- tenders to literary acquirement ; but among men and women of really cultivated understanding, the least mortification which can happen to her, is to become the object of their continual pity and commiseration. I will now recapitulate the foregoing Maxims in the form of mandatory precepts, and conclude. Do whatever you have to do, with all your might. Never put off until to-morrow, what you ought to do to-day. Believe yourselves capable by perseverance and in- 30 dustry of learning whatever thousands and millions have learned before vou. Never make invidious, or discouraging comparisons between your own progress and that of others. Suffer nothing to divert or withdraw your attention from the immediate object of investigation, during the time which you are expected to devote to it. If you will heartily adopt, and faithfully practice these Rules, you may all be morally sure of making very considerable improvements, both in knowledge and virtue. All cannot expect to make them in equal degree, any more, than they could calculate on mak- ing the features of their faces alike. But with equal opportunities, and equal diligence, there is not one who now hears me, but may certainly attain sufficient proficiency in all the most useful, and in some of the most ornamental branches of Education, ampty to re- ward them for the labour of every hour devoted to the all-important object of mental cultivation. 1 will now conclude in the words of the eloquent Alison, than whom no man seems better qualified to advise, whether we consider his piety, his sound sense, or the admirable and impressive manner in which he always addresses himself both to our understandings and feelings. In his sermon " on the religious and moral kinds of knowledge," he concludes by add res- 31 sing to the youthful part of his audience the following deeply interesting admonitions : " You are called by the providence of God to the first rank in the society of men; you are called by the same providence to the first duties ; and the voice of nature coincides with the voice of the Gospel, in the solemn assurance "that of those to whom much is given, much also will be required." Do you then wish, with the natural generosity of youth, to fulfil in after years the duties to which you are called ? Now is the time for this sacred preparation. It is noiv, in the spring of your days, that you may acquire the knowledge, and establish the habits which are to cha- racterize your lives; and that you may elevate the temper of your minds to the important destiny to which the Father of Nature has called you. The world with all its honours and all its temptations, will very soon be before you; the paths of virtue and of vice are equally open to receive you ; and it is the decision of your present hours, which must determine your cha- racter in time, and your fate in eternity. " 1 pray God that you may decide like christians ; — that you may take, in early life, " that good part which will never be taken from you ;" — and that nei- ther the illusions of rank, nor the seductions of wealth, may lead you to forget what you owe to yourselves, to your country, and to your God. * OUR present Lecture, my young friends, will be on Temper and Deportment, — which, taken in their most comprehensive sense, embrace every thing that can secure love and esteem in this world, and happi- ness in the next. The subject is of the deepest ima- ginable interest to us all. Let me, therefore, earnestly entreat you to givg^pio your onty&gand serious atten- tion, while Lf&£dfa\fwr to' w^^jSfe^of the many €onsideraty^K§ NvhicEBGSI53B^comrnCTrak it to your constant regard. 5E 1 P ( 8'0^1^©8 an y ^flS t0 y our wish to hea»what I may have to say on^thjf foregoing topicks, 1 wSiicij^tej|j(ijff(y^^ jnSjgujjPine possibili- ty that the spiritsOT^ll wham yoirtnost value, either among the living or the dead, may at this moment be listening with indescribable solicitude to hear whether the individual who now addresses you, may utter any thing calculated to make an impression so lasting on your hearts, as to show itself hereafter, continually in your lives. Temper and Deportment are the chief ingredients of what is called — character. And so intimately are they blended together, that it is not always easy to distinguish which contributes most to our good or ill 3* 34 fame. It may, however, be said, that Temper is in general the source of our motives; — Deportment the mode of performing those actions which flow from them. Temper supplies colouring for the picture of our lives; — Deportment puts it on. The first, accord- ing as it proves good or bad, renders us objects of es- teem or aversion to mankind; of continual peace, or feverish disquietude to ourselves ; and of approval or condemnation to the God who made us. While the last forms either the greatest charm and attraction in all polished, virtuous society, or its bitterest and most disgusting annoyance. So powerful an influence in- deed, do their combined agencies exercise over the whole human race, that they may truly be said to be almost despotic. For when both can be . brought to bear fully, with all their energies in complete opera- tion, they- act like a spell of enchantment. They conquer dislike, subdue obstinacy, appease wrath, soothe affliction, enhance joy, and not {infrequently persuade even our boasted reason in opposition to it- self. There is scarcely an action of our lives with which Temper, or Deportment, separately or united, lias not some concern. Nor do we ever take any part in the daily intercourse of society, without manifest- ing something, either in feeling or manner, that dis- closes the habitual dispositions of oar hearts, — the pre- vailing characteristicks of our actions. Of what pre- eminent importance then, is it to us all, to cultivate such deportment and temper only, as will render this disclosure a source of allowable self-esteem, rather ^5 than of mortification, shame, and bitter self-re- proach ! The great, leading distinctions between good and bad Temper, and good and bad Deportment, are so obvious, that much need not be said about them. But there are innumerable little traits and shades of difference, that although not easily distinguishable, are yet so fre- quently influencing the opinions which others form of us, as to require a minute examination. A boisterous, turbulent, quarrelsome, malignant temper is so strongly marked, and causes so much mischief in the world, that all who labour under so deplorable a misfortune., must be nearly as conscious of the fact, as those who suffer from its effects. Some dread, others fear, many despise, not a few will punish, and all will avoid such characters. In the midst of society they stand nearly as much alone, as in a wilderness. They can excite neither love, esteem, nor sympathy; no heart is open to them ; cheerless and forlorn must be the whole tenor of their existence ; and they are almost as much ex- cluded from all the rational pleasures, the refined en- joyments, and endearing ties of social life, as if they were ferocious beasts of the forest, rather than human beings. Like Cain, they have a mark set upon them, — or more correctly speaking, they have set it on themselves, which even little children can under- stand ; and " avoid ye, avoid ye," seems to be so le- gibly written on their very forehead, that he who runs may read. Do you fear (as I fervently hope and 36 believe that you do,) to resemble such daemons in hu- man shape, let me implore you, my young friends, continually to guard your hearts against the most distant approach of any of those baneful passions whose effects I have endeavoured to depict. They are fraught with deadly poison ; and to permit them, even in the slightest degree to influence your actions, may give them a power over you which you can never after subdue. An undeniable proof of the universal dread and aversion inspired by a contentious, scolding, ma- licious, violent tempered woman, from the earliest ages to the present time, is displayed in the unanimity with which wits, satirists, moralists, and divines have al- ways acted in denouncing, shaming, ridiculing, and exposing her. There is no term of reproach scarcely, — no epithet of contemptuous merriment, — no lan- guage of odium and scorn, no sentiment of pity, re- pugnance and disgust, that has not been uttered either in speech or writing about her. In short, she is an object either of constant commi- seration, or unconquerable dislike to all who know, or hear of her truly deplorable disposition. To crown the whole, she has been stigmatized from time im- memorial, with every kind of nick-name that could degrade, vilify, and disgrace her character. Thus, Termagant, Tygress, Vixen, Tartar, She-Dragon, and Spit-Fire, with many more of the same stamp, have so long been appropriated almost exclusively to designate her, that they have nearly ceased to have 37 any oilier meaning. Nor should any one be at all surprised at this, who reflects how much it is in the power of one of these she-devils to disturb all social intercourse ; to embitter every thing like social enjoy- ment ; and to poison effectually the very sources of all domestic happiness. Her tongue — if not her hand, is against every body ; and it is natural at least, If not altogether right, that every one's tongue should be against her; for she may truly be called the com- mon enemy of all. But there is a temper apparently quite the reverse of this, which, although not so entirely odious, is nearly as much to be dreaded and shunned. It usually dresses the countenance in smiles ; and is often con- cealed from the individuals themselves, under the spe- cious disguise of such an over-weaning interest in the aftairs of others, that no time is left for the proper at- tention to their own. Home therefore, is the last place in the world, where such persons will remain, if they can possibly help themselves. In a word, this temper is known by the summary title of*' gossipping ;" than which there cannot be one more extensive in its opera- tion ; more annoying, vexatious, and prolific in petty mischief; more corrupting to the hearts of the pos- sessors ; nor more productive of all those suspicions, jealousies, animosities, disputes and quarrels, which al- ways interrupt, and often utterly destroy the peace >uid harmony of whole neighbourhoods. Ifyour bit- °st enemy could accomplish a wish against your 38 comibrt, your characters and your happiness, he could not well make a worse one, than that you should all become expert and confirmed Gossips. For your power and propensity to pursue a course which would mar all, would beincreased exactly in proportion to the extent of your reception in society; and this would be continually extended by the constant accumulation of family secrets, private history, and domestic scandal, that time and opportunity so copiously supply to those who have a genuine taste for collecting. Such mate- rials constitute the stock in trade of the true gossip. Her standard topicks of conversation, are the blem- ishes, faults and vices of her acquaintance, — if these are not so public as to deprive the exposure of all air of secrecy; but where she designs to treat her audi- ence to any thing peculiarly interesting and delightful, she serves up the mangled reputation of some indivi- dual generally thought exemplary. On such occa- sions to betray either pity for the slandered, or dis- gust at the slanderer by attempting to vindicate the injured party, will generally bring your own charac- ter into jeopardy, as soon as your back is turned. As the gossip is the cherished inmate of many families, and cannot very easily be excluded from any ; there is no domestic sanctuary scarcely, but she can pene- trate in some mode or other ; no family compact so sacred, or free from all possibility of dissolution, that she cannot at least shake and weaken, if not utterly destroy it. Hence it becomes the more necessary to furnish vou with as many means as I can, to enable 39 you to detect, either in yourselves or others, not only the confirmed habit of gossipping — however glossed over ; but also these single acts, which if too often re- peated, will certainly produce that habit. This evil spirit frequently solicits your confidence by pretending to trust you alone with secrets, which she has told in the same way to every one who would listen to her. To judge of her motives, you have only to ask your- selves ; — does any particular intimacy authorize this confidential communication ? Have I any great per- sonal interest in hearing this affair ? Will it not mate- rially injure the individual of whom it is told, if it be generally known? Unless you can answer the two first in the affirmative, the extent of the injury to be done, should always convince you that no good mo- tive could possibly prompt the disclosure. Another unerring rule by which you may discern the real gos- sipping spirit, is the general practice of dwelling more upon the defects, faults, and vices of your acquain- tance and friends, than on their excellencies and vir- tues : particularly where the usual prologue is an ear- nest disclaimer of all gratification in such details, ac- companied by a self-complacent averment of great regret that " such things are ;" — but that the truth should be spoken at all times, — even if our dearest friends suffer by it. The gossipping spirit is farther evinced by selecting as favorite topicks of conversa- tion, every little detail in the domestic economy of our absent neighbours, and visiting acquaintance ; — infer- ring sluttishness or waste from any apparent neg- 40 lect, however accidental ; or parsimony and mean ness from some scantiness of viands or furniture, which, for aught we know, has been unavoidable. In short, gossipping may be defined, — a restless spirit oi envy, detraction, and censoriousness, always aiming to do sure, but secret work ; and never in its proper element, except when setting neighbours together by the ears ; depreciating the reputation of others ; or labouring to elevate its own at other people's expense Talking without restraint about every body, and everj r thing — although, in itself, nothing more than a proof of an idle, ill-regulated mind, indicates a temper that is always in danger of degenerating into this vice: — for vice 1 must call it, and of a very perilous nature too. Against this disposition, as well as against that first described, there is no necessity, I trust, to give you farther warning. Your own good feelings, your own good principles, your own hopes of present, as well as future happiness, will prove sufficient, as I earnestly hope, to guard you from every danger of such deadly infection. May Heaven grant, my young friends, that you never may have cause to apply any of the foregoing remarks, either to yourselves, or to any of your connexions. The circumstance of the term "bad temper," being generally applied, chiefly to such as display only the angry and malignant passions, has occasioned many defects of temper, either to be but slightly condemned, or altogether disregarded. Among these, the disposi- 41 tion to laugh at, to vex, and to teaze our companions and acquaintance ; to annoy them by practical jests ; or in some apparently good-humoured way to wound their feelings, stands conspicuous for its frequency. And it is the more to be deprecated, because it is gen- erally recommended to the young and the thought- less, by the air of gay wit, and jocose sprightliness with which its fantastic, but frequently injurious tricks are played off upon the poor victims of this unjustifi- able practice. A moment's serious reflection, — should either of you ever find herself one of these victims, ought to be sufficient to convince the sufferer, that such a practice, if confirmed into habit, cannot possibly proceed from any other source, than a cruel, rude, and unfeeling heart. Shun it then, I beseech you, shun it, as entirely unbecoming the gentle character of your sex ; forbidden by all the laws of mutual kindness, and good breeding; and repugnant to the true spirit of christian benevolence. Were I to say all which might be urged in favour of the temper most desirable, I should be compelled to write a book, instead of a single lecture. But there is one place where you may find a definition, or rather description of it, so full, and at the same time so con- cise, that you need go no farther, — at least for the great outlines. One of the Epistles of St. Paul (1st Cor.) gives this explanation in language so clear and impressive, that none can read, and study it diligently, without being thoroughly convinced that it contain? 4 42 the best summary extant of all the mental qualities es- sential to the formation of a perfect character, so far as temper is necessary to make it. The single word " charity" comprises them all ; and if all are to be diligently cultivated by those who anxiously desire to merit the praise of good-temper ; the qualities opposed to them, are to be as studiously avoided by all who fear to incur the odium and disgrace of bad temper. The continual dread of the one, is not less necessary, than the ardent desire for the other, in order to secure that which alone can justifiably be sought. Whatever may be your future destiny, whether prosperous, or unfortunate ; be it your fate to enjoy all the gratifica- tions that wealth, or elevated station can confer ; or to suffer all the calamities of pain, sickness, and abject poverty ; — still good-temper will be equally useful, equally necessary. Without it, in the first case, you will find none to participate cordially in your plea- sures ; and destitute of it, in the second, you will have no one to sympathize fully in your affliction. In either situation you must stand friendless and unsought. If rich, you will be despised, and probably hated — even by those who associate with you for your money; and if poor, you will meet none of that effectual aid and relief which always flows from the hands and hearts of the benevolent towards virtue in distress. The ob- ject of christian charity must be virtuous, or the re- lief administered, is bestowed from a sense of duty, ra- ther than from any feeling of real sympathy. But Low far, — very far short — does this supply of mere ani- 43 mal wants fall, of all which the wretched sufferer may often require to alleviate the whole burden of sorrow that overwhelms both soul and body. The pangs of the heart which constitute much the largest portion of human misery both in rich and poor, are not to be cured effectually by any thing but human sympathy bestowed by and on a truly christian spirit. Good-tem- per then, my young friends, in it's most comprehen- sive sense, is the " sine qua non," — the great essential of character ; without a large share of which you can- not possibly pass through life respected, esteemed, che- rished and beloved. In the name then, of all the dear- est objects of your affections; by every feeling of at- • tachment, gratitude, and laudable ambition, which binds you to life ; and by all your hopes of happiness here and hereafter, let me implore you never for a mo- ment to relax your efforts to subdue every unamiable disposition, every unkind propensity; every emotion of envy, hatred, malice, and uncharitableness; every ebullition of scorn, anger, obloquy, revenge, slander, and heart-piercing ridicule. If you love one another as companions, as individuals of the same sex, — but above all, as christians ought to do, you will need no other security against these hateful, detestable quali- ties : But without this safe-guard, continually nurtur- ed as your bosom friend, I cannot venture to say how long you may escape. Deeply should I deplore your degradation into such characters as 1 have denounced ; but it is a danger in some degree perpetually hanging over all those who fulfil not the christian precept — 44 » /ove one another?* to the very letter, as well as in the true spirit of the command. The subject of deportment, although intimately connected with that of temper, requires some separate remarks. It comprehends every tiling meant by the words demeanour, manner, behaviour and conduct r so far as the person is concerned. Good deportment, — (if a single sentence could explain it,) might be well defined, as well as recommended by the following con- cise precept — *' never affect to be what you are not:" — and if any one general rule would suffice, this, I be- lieve, would be as good as any other. For it would guard you against an arrogant, supercilious manner ; resulting from some fancied superiority against the pretension to more learning, more wit, more wealth, more refinement, — in short more of any thing, than you had a right to claim. It would equally guard you too, against the opposite, but not less disgusting error, of affecting great humility in regard to all your at- tainments. It would secure you also against the awk- ward, embarrassed, ridiculous gestures of a would-be- fine lady ; against mistaking noise for gaiety ; rude- ness, for easy, allowable familiarity; and boisterous mirth, and vulgar jests for animated dialogue and sprightly wit. It would save you from the low rude- ness, when entertaining others, of betraying your sus- picions that they saw better things at your house and table, than they could see at their own. Nor would you ever commit, when entertained bv them, the 45 equally vulgar incivility of appearing to despise 01 dislike what they gave you. It would maintain in your minds the habitual conviction, that their own natural manner, restrained by a constant regard to decorum, is best for every body; that the essence of all good deportment consists in putting every one with whom you associate, as much at their ease as possible ; and that the only effectual mode of doing this, is to appear at ease yourself. The whole art consists in respectful attention to superiors ; unconstrained civil- ity and friendly regard to equals; kindness and con- descension to inferiors ; and uniform politeness to all. Never permit yourselves to use coarse, vulgar, rude, abusive, or passionate language to any ; and always keep it in mind, that although our deportment and ap- parel have this in common, — that we must wear them both in company ; there is one all-important differ- ence between them. In the latter case we may have an every -day, as well as a holiday ~ suit ; but in the former, duty, as well as policy, demands that we should invariably keep on our best. No situation, nor circumstances, can exempt any lady from this law, — one indispensable part of which 1 must here par- ticularize. I mean the invariable use of those daily salutations interchanged by all well-bred people. — They should be most scrupulously observed by every body, whether they are strangers, or familiar acquain- tance, visitors, or members of the same family. For intimacy, if exempted from this easily practicable il- lustration of good manners, would be little better than 4* 46 a license for rudeness, vulgarity, and entire neglect of common decorum. As good deportment has its foun- dation in some of the best feelings of the heart, rea- son and morality, as well as convenience and comfort, may be plead in favour of it's constant observance. When not the effect of constraint, and mere outward compliance with what we believe the world requires of us, it flows directly from the benevolent desire to please and oblige ; and therefore, whenever we see it, if the actor or actress be a tolerably good one, we na- turally ascribe it to an amiable disposition. Such then is its inestimable advantage, even where it is sim- ply the effect of study and practice, unaided by natural good feeling; but with this to render it habitual, social life has no greater charm, nor stronger ligament. It calls forth all the tender charities of our existence ; and cherishes, strengthens and confirms that univer- sal spirit of christian philantrophy, without a large share of which, life itself would be a curse instead of a blessing. Good or bad deportment displays itself in almost every thing we say or do; and such is the influence which it exercises over mankind, that universal regard is attracted by the first, and universal repugnance excited by the last. Indeed even the most splendid talents, and extensive in- formation, — nay, the all-powerful and transcendent charms of beauty itself, never attain much popular- ity, nor engage much homage, unless the deportment of the possessor be conciliating and agreeable. Where- as a very moderate share of abilities, and knowledge 47 united to good manners, graceful demeanour, and po- lite conversation, — even without personal attractions^ very rarely fail to render the individuals who are re- markable for such attainments, universal favourites. Let not even beauty then, flatter herself with the vain conceit of ever making many captives, unless she de- votes more time to making cages, for their safe- keeping, than nets to entangle them. Fine complex- ion, fine features, and smiles, may do well enough for the latter ; but fine temper, graceful deportment, and engaging conversation, can alone answer for the for- mer purpose. These last may also be called univer- sal letters of recommendation, — well understood, and of great current value among all ranks and classes of society : so much so indeed, as to be every where the first objects of attraction, even before any thought is bestowed upon what may be the moral principles of the persons whom we meet in the world. We take it for granted at first sight, that good deportment can flow only from good principles ; and wherever we see it, we almost irresistibly conclude, that these principles are its source. How incalculably important then is it, my young friends, that good deportment, as well as good temper, should form notonly the subjects of your constant meditation, but the objects of your unceasing regard and practice. Possessed of these, you would ever be secure of a favourable reception, even among savages; while with civilized man, their advantages are almost beyond all powers of calculation. The heart that can remain shut against their fascinating 48 influence must be made of such materials as are rare- ly discovered in a human bosom. I have reserved for the last, (as by far the most im- portant of all,) your deportment during public and pri- vate worship. This, to be effectual, either for ourselves, or as an example to others, should be both externally and internally, serious and devout. In reality, careless- ness and impiety on this sacred occasion, is not /ess sin- ful in man, than in woman; but public sentiment ex- acts a much more strict observance of decorous and pious conduct from your sex than from ours. Indeed, so universally does this feeling prevail among the thinking and religious part of mankind, that a woman who would habitually be guilty of any visible inatten- tion, levity of demeanor, or irreverence of attitude, during the few, the very few minutes devoted to prayer, would be looked upon, as something shockingly unna- tural, and nearly lost to all sense of propriety; — if not actually destitute of some of the most essential moral principles in the female character : — such as sensibility, gratitude, and a capacity to love as well as to compre- hend the sublime truths and obligations of the Gospel. And what other conclusidn, let me ask, could be drawn by any reflecting mind, from beholding a set of weak, dependent, helpless beings — such as we are, owing every thing, as a matter of grace, to the omnipotent God who made us, — even the very breath that we re- spire, (for he could strike us dead in the twinkling of an eye,) and yet apparently incapable even for ten or 49 fifteen minutes in the twenty-four hours, of rendering up in spirit and in truth the poor, utterly inadequate homage of our thanks and adoration, for all the innu- merable instances of his unmerited goodness and mer- cy towards us ? Can any person who has a heart, and takes this view of the subject, fail to shudder at the dreadful peril of such unpardonable neglect ? Can any one who has a soul to be saved, refrain from instantly and fervently praying, that, if such has been their state, all their former disregard of holy ordinances may be forgiven; all their past insensibility to divine favour pardoned ; and all previous hardness of heart and con- tempt of God's sacred word, be converted into the pure, unchangeable, and ardent spirit of christian de- votion ? May the father of mercies avert from each of us, all such irrational heedlessness of the hazardous con- dition in which we continually stand; — all such impi- ous disregard of his heavenly forbearance and love; all such hopeless obduracy and insane ingratitude, for the daily opportunities afforded us for reformation ; al- though we perpetually hang over the \evy brink of that awful eternity, beyond whose verge all hope will be extinct, all repentance unavailing ; and nothing cer- tain but remorse and despair to every soul who, dur- ing this life, has alike rejected the means of grace and the promises of heavenly glory. Before I close this lecture, I would endeavour, if possible, to fix your attention on what 1 have uttered, but particularly on those parts of my subject whicli 50 involve the great principles of moral and religions duty. Will you bear with me then, for a few minutes kmger, while I solemnly entreat you by every good feeling that you have ever cherished ; by all the good qualities which you have ever loved to anticipate as constituent parts of your character, never to violate these principles? Will you listen to me, while I most earnestly beseech you not to suffer what 1 have said to escape your memories, like the vanishing breath of the passing breeze? Beware lest you consider the subjects of my admonitions as common-place mat- ters, in which you will have but little agency, and still less concern. The admonitions themselves are the result of my most deliberate judgment; prompted by anxiety for your welfare ; and uttered with the deepest conviction of their truth and importance. They relate to nothing less than those chief elements and essential ingredients in character, temper and deportment ; on which it may truly be said, that your all depends. For while the last, if good, will secure you temporal fame, es- teem, and affection ; your proper regulation of the first, is, that one thing needful: without which, the great, immeasurable interests of eternity are lost to you forever. The hour is fast approaching when most of us must part, — at least for many weeks, — perhaps forever. Under such circumstances, is it possible that any of 51 you can be indifferent to the many affecting conside- rations which present themselves on such an occasion. To the anxious hopes and anticipations of your friends, and near, and dear connexions ; to the great and sacred duties for the fulfilment of which you have been so often and earnestly importuned to prepare ; and to all the obligations of present and future time, continually increasing both the number and dignity of their claims to your obedience ? In contemplating the moment of return to the bosom of your families, do you anxiously anticipate' such a reception as ought to be given to the cherished and meritorious objects of their most tender affections? What imaginable right have you to expect such endearment, if you have neg- lected to cultivate with your utmost assiduity, all those qualities which alone can give you any just title to it? Ask yourselves whether it would be compatible either with good faith, or your filial obligations, to practice such a deception on those to whom you owe so much, as to suffer yourselves to be pressed to their hearts in the full, uncontradicted persuasion that you are all which they wish you to be, if you have not re- sisted with all your might the revolting habit of rude, unpolished manners ; the deadly poison of selfish, and malignant passions ; the perverse, obstinate, and dog- ged disposition to oppose every thing like good advice and salutary restraint ? With what face will you be able to meet those eyes beaming with parental love and confidence, if your own consciences tell you that your ears have been wilfully shut against both friendly 52 admonition and necessary reproof; — that no self-con- troul has been exercised ; no mild, benevolent, affec- tionate feelings cultivated ; no moral and religious du- ties sincerely ana devoutly performed ; — in short, no steady, unalterable purpose formed, to improve both your hearts and understandings to the utmost extent of your opportunities ? Oh ! my young friends, if this purpose be not already formed and fixed, let it be done immediately, before the hour of our separation arrives. Good intentions, never fulfilled, constitute, it is said, the pavement of hell ; and no figure of speech can possibly illustrate more forcibly, the immi- nent peril of postponing their execution. Let it not, I beseech you, be your case; nor suffer my earnest wishes, and fervent prayers for your happiness, which will accompany you wherever the providence of God may direct your course, to be altogether unavailing. But permit me still, confidently to hope, that should we part to meet no more in this life, none of you will have lived in vain ; nor fail to enjoy in another and a better world, your portion of that felicity which awaits the virtuous, in the everlasting mansions of eter- nal bliss. THE subject of the present Lecture is a theme, which, I lament to say, is as copious as it is painful. It is the foibles, faults, and vices of your sex. Not that 1 design to represent them greater than our own ; — for God knows that we have more than enough, which almost exclusively, or at least in a much higher de- gree attach to our sex ; but there are others that belong more particularly to yours; while some are common to both. 1 lament the copiousness of my subject, be- cause a knowledge of these defects is so apt to sink be- low its proper height, the standard which we form in early life of female loveliness and perfection ; and be- cause so much of human happiness depends upon such an exemption from these failings, as very few attain, — although easily attainable by all who enjoy the inesti- mable advantages of good examples, and good edu- cation. Would to God, my young friends, that I were capable of making you see this matter as you ought to do. — Would to God, that the being who guards your lives from injury ; — who shields your ho- nour from reproach ; who provides all the essentials for your happiness, would inspire me with such lan- guage, as would at once reach your hearts, and im- press them with the indelible conviction, that you can 5 54 expect no felicity eilher here or hereafter, unless you continually, and ardently endeavour in reality to be, what you all, beyond doubt, would wish to appear; — that is, without vice, without fault, without even a foi- ble to sully the spotless purity of your characters. Although the divisions which I have adopted of de- viations from rectitude and sound principle, into foi- bles, faults, and vices, be a common one among writers on morals; yet I know not well, where to draw the line of distinction between them. They are all, in fact, scions from the stock of human depravity ; — children of the same family : or, to change the meta- phor — diseases of the same general type, and differing only in degrees of malignity. They lead alike to de- gradation of character, and final destitution of moral worth. For that which, at first, may well be designat- ed by the softer epithet— -foible, if wilfully persevered in, becomes at last, a serious fault ; and this again, if habitually practised without any effort at reformation, degenerates into downright vice. Familiarity with one of the odious tribe, weakens our abhorrence of all ; we loose by degrees, our love of excellence and anxiety for fair repute ; become careless of the world's good opinion ; grow selfish and sensual ; and not unfre- quently end our career by exchanging the admiration, esteem, and affection of mankind, for contempt, dis- grace, and infamy itself. But let me come at once to particulars, and endea- 55 vour to mark for your avoidance, — without any very precise classification, all such errors and defects, either of temper, deportment, or morals, as persons of your age and sex, in your situations, are most liable to con- tract and commit. In the first place, it is a radical fault of fatal tendency from being the source of many others, for almost every young person, while at school? to neglect, — indeed, often to disregard entirely, several practices which are universally observed in all well- bred, genteel society; and which they themselves (were they asked the question) would not hesitate to say, must be observed by them also, as soon as they " turn ouf* according to the current phrase. Youth, — espe- cially youth at school, they seem to think, is a season when they may dispense with all the common forms of civility invariably interchanged in every polite assem- blage of grown persons ; — when they are privileged to be rude to each other, and those with whom they asso- ciate 5 when they may be as noisy, obstreperous, romp- ing, and even quarrelsome, as inclination leads them to be ; and when nothing which they may say or do in their hours of relaxation, can have any effect, or abid- ing influence on their future manners and character* This is a most deplorable mistake. For you may rely on it with as much certainty, as on your present exis- tence, that unless you practice while young, the man- ners of ladies, you will never attain them when old. It would be equally absurd to calculate on dancing well, or playing finely on musical instruments without any previous training, as to believe it possible to meta- 56 morphose yourselves at once, from rude, unpolished, hoyden girls, into women of easy, graceful, and amia- ble deportment. As well might the sluggish ox at- tempt the martial trampe of the well-practised war- horse; — the clumsy tortoise emulate the elastic and agile spring of the antelope ; — or the awkward goose imitate the graceful movements of a perfect opera-dan- cer ; as for a woman to assume the air, carriage, and manners of a lady, who while she was a girl, had ut- terly neglected all the means of acquiring them. The habits of early youth would be continually breaking through all your efforts at restraint; rude contradic- tions (if formerly indulged in) would be constantly ready, — and often would burst from your lips ; — the kch to snatch food from each other, and from your at- tendants, if once practiced, would often be at your fin- ger's ends, even at the head of your own tables ; the meeting and passing each other in the morning with- out notice or salutation, if habitual in youth, would be unconsciously continued in maturity and old age ; — the slamming of doors, the tom-boy prancing along in- stead of walking; — the screams and shrieks of affected merriment or fright, if once your customary sport, would be very apt to form a part of the entertainment for your company in your own houses ; — and in short, like the cat turned fine lady, (if you ever read the fa- ble,) who betrayed herself by jumping out of bed to run after a mouse, — you would be everlastingly in danger of exposing yourselves to derision, contempt, or pity, by your ignorance, awkwardness, and vulga- 57 rity in attempting to act that part as mistresses of fa° milies in your own houses, which would be perfectly easy and practicable to you, had you always kept it in mind, that to play the lady well when women, can ne- ver be learned so easily at any time, as while you are girls ; — if indeed, it can be learned at all, after that period has been suffered to pass unimproved. It is not the age, the house, the occupation, the company, or particular circumstances in which you may be placed, that either creates or annuls the obligation to lady-like conduct; for none who are really ladies, or aspire to be so, are ever exempt from this duty. Once a lady, always a lady; — for this character is not a mask or dress to be put on or off at pleasure ; but must be con- tinually worn daring life, if you would have the world always ascribe it to you. Let nothing which I have said be so construed as in any degree to check that buoyancy of spirit, and gaiety of heart, which are the usual companions, as well as evidences of youth, innocence, good health, and hap- piness. No — far, very far from me and mine, be all such austerity. Let innocent mirth, the merry dance, the good-humoured jest, the joyous laugh go round, until the welkin rings again, provided always, that no- thing be said or done, unbecoming ladies to say, or do : and provided also, that it be not out of season. — For example, none of those exuberant overflowings of animal spirits, either look or sound well, immediately on the arrival, or during the visit of an utter stranger 5* 58 Still less ought they to be exhibited either immediately before, during or after family worship ; for no lady in fact, would do such violence to the feelings of piously disposed persons, even if she herself had little or no piety. Neither ought these outbreakings to be indulg- ed at the expense of any persons much older than our- selves, who we believe, would be greatly annoyed by them : for we should ever recollect that " there is a time for all things;" and that it is a precept of Christianity, as well as of good breeding, never unnecessarily to wound the feelings of others, even when they appear in reality more nice than wise ; and more fastidious, than they ought to be. " Do unto others as we would they should do unto us," — is a rule of conduct applica- ble to all ages, sexes, and conditions ; nor is it more « religious command, than a maxim of genuine urbanity and politeness. This admirable rule, in fact, contains within itself the whole code of practical morality and lady-like conduct ; for it is impossible that any one who adopts it as their constant guide can ever go far wrong either in morals or demeanour. Let me be- seech you then, frequently to appeal to it in your own minds; as such an appeal will almost always enable you to determine how to act in any situation in which you may be placed. In addressing you on these deeply interesting topicks, 1 must take it for granted that all who hear me are sin- cerely anxious to pursue such a course as may render them" dear to all their relatives and friends; admired 59 and beloved in whatever society their lot may be cast ; and examples of propriety in conduct, and rectitude in principle, to all who may become acquainted with them. These, my young friends, are no very easy attain- ments ; for mere wishes can never acquire them ; nei- ther can they be imparted by all the admonitions in the world. Nothing in short, can make you mistresses of such admirable accomplishments, but the continual practice during your whole lives, both at school, and ever afterwards, of all the means requisite for their acquisition. The human mind can no more become healthy, vigorous, and productive of good fruit, with- out constant and most assiduous culture, than a tree can : nor is the moralist who expects the heart and un- derstanding to make even an approximation towards perfection, without continually exercising and cherish- ing all their best affections, at all more rational, than the horticulturist who would look for fair and lovely flowers in the garden which he had suffered to be over- run with noxious and loathsome weeds. Would you have your society eagerly sought, and enjoyed with delight by all with whom you associate, endeavour to keep the following precepts ever present to your minds. Be always particularly attentive to cleanliness both of person and dress; for whatever toleration some of your own sex may feel for what is called a female sloven or slattern, be assured there is nothing like it among ours. Even those men who who are slovens themselves, feel nearly as great a repugnance to a slovenly woman, as they would to a hog dressed in women's apparel. In 60 fact, to be a stattern. is to offer continual violence to all those ideas of deli<: >v purity, and loveliness xfrbich our sex delight to cherish as inseparable from the fe- male character in its most exemplary and attractive form. Again, you must avoid, as you would a demon oi - -chief, every thing like a harsh, angry, rude, and boisterous manner; for your own sex always endea- vour to keep out of the way of such associates: while ours are much more apt to look upon those who prac- tice them, as blackguard men dressed in women's clothes, than as objects to be loved, courted, and mar- ried. We have, in truth, very kw Petruchios among us; for much the greater part of our sex would nearly as soon think of choosing a frantic bedlamite, or a barrel of gun-powder with a firebrand in it, for a wife, as a woman like his Kate. In fact, no man in his sober senses, ever yet married a very violent tempered wo- man — knowing her to be such : for if he was sane be- fore marriage, he would certainly calculate upon be- coming insane very soon afterwards, or utterly misera- ble. In an evil hour are such furies (of either sex) ever born ; for wretched indeed, to the last degree wretched do they make all who have the misfortune to be subjected to their power. Very rarely, however, do we ever meet with any so bad, as to be incapable of reformation, where they themselves will resolutely undertake their own cure. And to succeed, is the most honourable, because the most difficult of all conquests: for it demonstrates to the world, that we have all the essentials of great character — discernment to see our 6 * own defects, magnanimity to acknowledge them, cou- rage to combat the danger, firmness to persevere in the arduous means of victory, continual self-controul, and power at last to achieve it. Another most important precept is, most carefully to shun, and to suppress every sentiment even border- ing on envy, malice, and uncharitableness. The first, (if silently indulged,) will prove an eternal torment to yourselves, and if you give it utterance, your utmost care cannot conceal the baseness of your motives. The consequence will be, the avoidance of all whose society you would probably most desire to enjoy. The second and third, especially when displayed in attack- ing the characters of any of your own sex, will al- ways excite against you the feelings of dread, antipa- thy, and even abhorrence, if your object seems to be — the ruin of reputation. Nor will it much mend your chance of escape, that you deal in hints and inuen- does, instead of open amission to effect your purpose. In fact the indirect mode of destroying character, is, if possible, more odious and detestable, if not in reality more criminal, than that which is direct ; because it is combined with artifice, and indicates a source of deep- er, more inherent, and diabolical malignity. It is, in short, the midnight assassin, compared to the noon- day murderer. These are vices sufficiently abomina- ble, and equally criminal in both sexes, but the gene- ral sentiment appears more opposed to them in your sex, than in ours. Why it should be so, I know not 62 unless it arises from ihe belief that since unsullied re- pute appears more vitally important to women than to men, it is more unnatural in those to whom this in- estimable gem seems most necessary, to endeavour to deprive others of that, without which it would be far belter that they themselves were dead. But the fault, or rather vice against which I would more particularly and earnestly beseech you to guard yourselves, is that which is designated by the term gossipping, than which there is no word in our lan- guage, either more comprehensive in its meaning, or more odious in its consequences : for it is compounded of all that is mean, degrading, and unnatural in mo- tive ; insidious, uncharitable, and malicious in con- duct; slanderous, mischievous, and destructive to so- cial happiness in effect. It is true that all gossipping is not equally baneful ; but the least culpable is below the dignity of a rational and moral agent; and origi- nates nearly from the same source, which produces the most vicious kind, and may become the same by long, unrestrained indulgence. That persons infected with this disease, for disease it may justly be called, should ever obtain the footing which they often do, in good company, is among the most unaccountable things that 1 know. For the opportunities of constant intercourse, which appear indispensable to furnish the gossip with the aliment on which she lives and feasts, are only to be obtained, one would think, by a con- tinual manifestation of qualities directly the reverse of 63 those which mark and distinguish her character For example, plain, unaffected, amiable manners ; cordial good nature ; and such innocent, agreeable conversa- tion, as can wound neither the feelings of those who are present, nor the reputations of such as are absent, are the only general passports to good society. Yet none of these delightfully-attractive recommendations can the genuine, thorough-paced gossip ever counter- feit, with any tolerable chance, or prospect of success. Again, the incessant clatter of her tongue might seem to proceed from the inclination to impart information, which in itself is a good disposition. But 'tis no such thing; a few minutes listening to her, suffice to prove that the sole cause is the exquisite, intense delight which she takes in the sound of her own voice ; in the contemplation of her own conscious power to do mis- chief; and in witnessing the success of her efforts to disturb the peace and harmony of whole neighbour- hoods. View her when thus employed, and judge merely by a slight glance at her manner and external appearance, you would imagine that you saw in the animation of her countenance, the coruscation of her smiles, ^ind the eagerness of her utterance, that nothing less than the happiness of all her acquaintance, or of the whole human race, formed the chief object of her desires. But come a little nearer, trust not to your eye alone, listen and look attentively, and you will soon perceive that under all this shew of complacency, benevolence, and interest in human felicity, there lurks the incurable and ever busy passion for disseminating 64 distrust, jealousy, and hatred, where all before was confidence and good-will ; for converting social affec- tions and friendly intercourse into bitter animosities and lasting estrangement ; and in short, for weaving such a complicated web of neighbourhood misunder- standings, bickerings, dislikes, revilings, and slanders, that the Devil himself could not unravel it, were he disposed to try. Then come on the endless fending and proving which it is the consummation of her art to set on foot, after her plot is sufficiently thickened to render all satisfactorj' explanations hopeless. May God defend and pretect you, my young friends, from all such examples ; from all such associates ; and still more, from all such friends, if it be not a prostitution of the term to couple it with any such characters. Although the portrait which I have endeavoured to give you of the gossip is in its most aggravated form, it is still no exaggeration ; and I entreat you not to imagine yourselves out of all danger of resembling it, because you feel at present exempt from such enormity of moral turpitude. Very small faults, if continually indulged without any restraint, soon become great vices ; nor is this remark more applicable to any par- ticular faults, than to those which contribute to the formation of that social-pest — the true gossip. You cannot, therefore, be too careful in avoiding indul- gence in any of them. A few general rules, if you would never deviate from them, would prove an effec- tual safe-guard. The first is, never to busy your- 65 selves with other people's affairs, unless by their own special solicitation, and even then, solely with the true intent to befriend them. The second is, never to repeat any thing that you hear— although no secrecy be enjoined, if you believe its repetition will do more harm than good. And the last makes it our duty, as far as we justly can, rather to check, than to give greater currency to any tale or report whatever, which threatens to injure the reputation of man, wo- man, or child. It may be a salutary relief from the painful reflec- tions suggested by the foregoing illustrations of great faults and vices, to turn our thoughts to the considera- tion of some of the less pernicious defects which dimi- nish the worth of the female character ; but which still stand sufficiently high on the scale of imperfection to make it proper that I should stigmatize them for your avoidance. Among these may be classed, the neces- sity which some appear to think themselves under, of being exceedingly terrified at the sight of snakes, rats, spiders, and other such formidable insects and ani- mals. This usually proceeds from a belief that it will excite sympathy, and a high idea of their refinement and sensibility. There cannot well be a greater mis- take; for ridicule, contempt, or pity, are the only sen- timents which such conduct ever inspires. Another lamentable delusion of this class, is the impatience to attract that attention from strangers, which seems as if it would come too tardily, when left to take its na- 6 66 tural course. The usual symptoms by which it be- trays itself to a person of the slightest experience and observation, are; — whisperings to each other, when the parties have nothing to say ; tittering and giggling at no body knows what ; and if all this fails, — talking at, rather than to the unlucky object of all this solicitude, to be noticed. The same game may be played, even out of the company of the individual for whose atten- tion such restless young ladies are candidates ; as is very well understood by all of our sex who are not ab- solute green horns. It consists in doing or saying something, (no matter what,) in another room, loud enough to provoke the inquiry from the desired quar- ter of — " who is that ?" Such manoeuvres are always considered by our sex equivalent to a verbal petition in so many words of — " pray come and pay me a lit- tle attention ; you can't imagine how much I want it." They fail an hundred times where they succeed once ; and are listened to, only to be laughed at. The better plan therefore, certainly is, to depend (as the mariners say) " upon plain sailing ;" never to forget that striking and admirable characteristick of our good mother Eve, whom Milton describes as one who " would not unsought be won." It is a hard case perhaps, that these vile men will be so insensible to female attractions of such general currency ; but it is the nature of the beast, who must be taken, — if taken at all, for better for worse, as the parlies in every ma* ftrimonial contract, take each other. 67 There is another fault which just presents itself to my recollection (although no way connected with the foregoing,) against which I will now caution you, lest I should omit to notice it elsewhere. Young ladies are rarely guilty of it, but since they catch many of their defects from elderly ones, among whom yon not im- frequently observe it, some reprehension must be bes- towed on it. This fault is to be seen particularly in those who wish to be estimated as holding a certain rank in society, which confers on them the privilege of be- ing quite fastidious in regard to all matters of domes- tic management; but especially the wonderful art, science, and mystery of cookery. There is scarcely any thing in the World — if cooked out of their own. houses, that such ladies can eat, without betraying their disgust. And you would imagine, to hear them talk, that none but themselves, could possibly direct food to be prepared in a way that would fit it for the diet of a human being,— much less to entertain the pa- lates of such refined and exquisite judges of good liv- ing as themselves. They vainly imagine that this is the true mode to give all who see and hear them, a high idea of the good taste and delicate manner in which they have been brought up. But such conduct* and such conversation, is the very essence of vulgarity and low-breeding, incessently struggling to ascend higher up the ladder of gentility than nature ever de- signed they should. For although every real lady, — if she be a house-keeper, will deem it a part of her duty to acquire the knowledge necessary to keep a 68 good table, yet you will always discover it more from the appearance of the table itself, than from any dis- play of the culinary art in what she says to her com- pany. Nor do you ever hear her at her own table, — still less at that of another, talk as if she thought the chief business of life was to pamper and indulge the appetite for food. Epicurism in a female is quite bad enough; but gluttony is to the last degree disgusting and loathsome. Some who are aware of this loathing and disgust felt by every man towards a gluttonous woman, and who mistake the reverse of wrong for right, would have the world believe that they deem it a great excess to eat as much as the leg and wing of a lark ; or that it is altogether incompatible with female delicacy to live upon any thing much grosser than ether itself. Such ladies, in order to acquire what the oracular and silly books which they chiefly consult, call " a Sylph-Like Form" will starve themselves nearly to death ; will deluge and corrode their stomachs with acids; and will discipline and excruciate their bodies with corsettes, until good health, good spirits, and good principles all sink together; and the poor, deluded victim of infatuated vanity and folly dies a martyr to the vain effort of making herself something which nature had interdicted. Many — very many female constitutions are utterly destroyed by these in- sane practices ; and the worst of it is, that the mis- chief is rarely noticed until past remedy ; — when some lingering and painful disease — generally con- sumption, closes the melancholy scene. Such a 69 thoughtless and prodigal waste of these inestimable blessings — life and health, is shameful and wicked beyond my power to describe. In the foregoing pages I have endeavoured so dis- tinctly to mark with their due portion of reprobation, the chief defects and besetting sins to which you are exposed through life, that should any of them hereaf- ter sully your characters, endanger your peace, or finally mar your happiness, it will be entirely your own fault. Nothing, I believe, that is material, has been omitted. But should this be the case, there is no such affinity between virtue and vice, folly and wis- dom, good and bad conduct, as to render it at all dif- ficult to distinguish between right and wrong in any situation in which you may be placed. The whole code of morals is so clearly laid down and explained in the holy scriptures, that to be ignorant on any point contained therein, is utterly impossible, if you will only read and study your bible diligently. And in regard to manners, you have little else to do, than to take for your model Milton's incomparable portrait of our mother Eve, of whom he says : « Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye ; '« In ev'ry gesture, dignity and love." What Eve was in moral qualifications, every one who hears me, may be. Her innocence, her modesty, her mildness of temper, her humility and exemption from vanity, her anxiety for improvement in knowledge and virtue, her benevolence towards man, and piety 6* 70 towards God — are all attainable qualities by every individual of her sex, whose principles have not been perverted by bad education. And in regard to her personal attractions, if all cannot possess them in equal degree, they should at least endeavour to ac- quire them as far as they can ; because they, and they alone, constitute the perfection of female loveliness and beauty : — a perfection, which I beseech you to remark, that the poet represents as resulting more from the moral than physical effect of her appear- ance. Without this moral beauty and loveliness, by which 1 mean a countenance and manner irradiating all the amiable qualities of the heart, mere regularity of fea- tures and symmetry of form, are scarcely worth a pass- ing thought. They are the very toys and play-things of an hour for grown children, who bestow not a thought beyond the object and moment of present en- joyment. Before 1 close this address, I must not omit to ad- monish you against another fault of which most young persons, and indeed, far too many old ones, are guilty in a highly reprehensible degree. This is the want of economy both of time and money. In regard to the first, the calculation among young peo- ple seems to be, that all which can be taken from study and bestowed on idleness, is absolute gain ; whereas the very reverse of this is true: for every mo- Tl merit not spent in improving ourselves in all useful knowledge, (except the time devoted to necessary recreation,) is irreparable loss. With respeci to the want of economy in money matters, no person depen- dent as you all are, upon others, can possibly indulge themselves in it, without committing, in almost every case, at least three decidedly immoral actions — to wit : selfishness, — waste, — and ingratitude. For you are selfish, when you purchase any gratification in which others do not participate ; you are wasteful, when you expend, — as you generally do, the price of toil and labour — that is money, in perishable trifles of little, or no value; and when you dissipate parental bounty in thoughtless extravagance, you are certainly ungrateful to those who supply you, — not unfrequently perhaps by great self denial, with the conveniences and comforts of life; and above all, with the inesti- mable means of education. It is but a paltry and ut- terly futile excuse sometimes made to appease the com- punctions of conscience, that the money is your own, given to use as you please : for you should ever re- collect that it is the pleasure, — nay the command of your Maker, to husband our resources, that " we may give to those who need," and do all the good we can, before we are called hence to settle our great account at the final day of punishments and rewards. " Come, ye blessed of my father, inherit the kingdom pre- pared for you from the foundation of the world," can never be the soul cheering sentence of those who, while in this life, spend either their time, or their mo- 72 ney, chiefly in selfish and sensual indulgence. To learn, and to labour truly to get our own living in that state to which it hath pleased God to call us ; and benevolently to assist others in accomplishing the same object, is the principal end, as well as paramount duty of our temporal existence. Neither beauty, nor riches, nor accomplishments, nor things present, nor things to come, can exempt any human being from this universal obligation. To conclude, — let me again, and again entreat you to keep it ever present to your minds, that now, and every hour and day of your pupilage, is the accepted time to make preparation both for this world and the next. Now is the time to acquire not only your man- ners, but your morals : now is the time to furnish your- selves with a stock of elementary knowledge for pre* sent and future use : and now is the irrevocable period (if neglected) to learn by practice, all those admira- ble courtesies of social life, comprehended in the term manners, which aid so much in rendering our exis- tence il a way of pleasantness and path of peace ;" and contribute more than any thing, but good morals, to secure for us the esteem, the admiration, and the love of mankind. £& '\ 1 '*%* <£ • ,0" v .' "« "^ ,* N c»~'« ^C 81 x > s^** r "> ^ "^ - ^0 I *b o x :•>* ,o° ^ ^ <-> "c ^u- ^ -^ , ./. / •.> <. - A^- u V aV *>" c^ 1 .^ x ^ V^ f x° °«. - s ; ,^ v ■■I HnHft ■ ;. IIBi ma ■•■■■.;;■■:■.,.■ ■••■■■;■'■-' mmmmi is ■:,■■■•■ ■'■■•"■