nion of the world. Esteem to virtue is like a cherishing air to plants and flowers, which makes them blow and prosper; and for that reason it may be allowed to be, in some degree, the cause as well as the reward of it. That pride which leadeth to a good end, cannot be a vice, since it is the beginning of a virtue; and to be pleased with just applause: is so far from a fault, that it would be an ill symptom in a woman, who should not place the greatest part of her satisfaction in it.Humility is no doubt a great virtue; but it ceaseth to be so, when it is afraid to scorn an ill thing. Against vice and folly it is becoming your sex to be haughty; but you must not carry the contempt of things to arrogance towards persons, and it must be done with fitting distinctions, else it may be inconvenient by being unseasonable. A pride that raises a little anger to be outdone in any thing that is good, will have so good an effect, that it is very hard to allow it to be a fault.

It is no easy matter to carry even between these different kinds so described; but remember that it is safer for a woman to be thought too proud, than too familiar.

DIVERSIONS.

THE next thing I shall recommend to you, is a wise and a safe method of using diversions. To be too eager in the pursuit of pleasure whilst you are young, is dangerous; to catch at it in riper years, is grasping a shadow; it will not be held. Besides, that by being less natural, it grows to be indecent. Diversions are the most properly applied, to ease and relieve those who are

oppressed, by being too much employed. Those that are idle have no need of them, and yet they above all others, give themselves up to them.To unbend our thoughts, when they are too much stretched by our cares, is not more natural than it is necessary, but to turn our whole life into a holyday, is not only ridiculous, but destroys pleasure, instead of promoting it. The mind, like the body, is tired by being always in one posture, too serious breaks, and too diverting loosens it: it is variety that gives the relish; so that diversions too frequently repeated, grow first to be indifferent, and at last tedious. Whilst they are well chosen and well timed, they are never to be blamed; but when they are used to an excess, though very innocent at first, they often grow to be criminal, and never fail to be impertinent.

Some ladies are bespoken for merry meetings. They are engaged in a circle of idleness, where they turn round for the whole year, without the interruption of a serious hour. They know all the players' names and are intimately acquainted with all the booths in Bartholomew fair. No soldier is more obedient to the sound of his captain's trumpet, than they are to that which summons them to a puppet, play, or monster. The spring that brings out flies and fools, makes them inhabitants of Hyde Park: in the winter they are incumbrances to the play house and the ballast of the drawing-room. The streets all the while are so weary of these daily faces, that men's eyes. are overlaid with them. The sight is glutted with fine things, as the stomach with sweet ones; when a fair lady will give too much of herself to the world, she oppresses, instead of pleasing.These ladies so continually seek diversion, that in little time they grow into a jest, yet are un

willing to remember, that if they are seldomer seen they would not be so often laughed at. Besides, they make themselves cheap, than which there cannot be an unkinder word bestowed upon your sex.

To play so as to be called a gamester is to be avoided next to the things that are most criminal. It hath consequences of several kinds not to be endured: it will engage you into a habit of idleness and ill hours; draw you into ill mixed company, make you neglect your civilities abroad and your business at home, and impose into your acquaintance such as will do you no credit.

To deep play there will be yet greater objections. It will give occasion to the world to ask spiteful questions. How you dare venture to loose, and what means you have to pay such large sums? If you pay exactly, it will be inquired from whence the money comes? If you owe, and especially to a man, you must be so very civil to him for his forbearance, that it lays a ground of having it farther improved, if the gentleman is so disposed. Besides, if a lady could see her own face upon an ill game, at a deep stake, she would certainly forswear any thing that could put her looks under such a disadvantage.

To dance sometimes will not be imputed to you as a fault; but remember, that the end of your learning it, was, that you might the better know how to move gracefully. It is only an advantage so far. When it goes beyond it, one may call it excelling in a mistake which is no very great commendation. It is better for a woman never to dance, because she bath no skill in it, than to do it too often, because she doth it well. The easiest, as well as the safest method

of doing this, is in private companies, amongst particular friends and then carelessly, like a diversion, rather than with solemnity, as if it was a business, or had any thing in it to deserve a month's preparation by serious conference with a dancing master.

Much more might be said on all these heads, and many more might be added to them. But I. must restrain my thoughts, which are full for my dear child, and would overflow into a volume which would not be fit for a new year's gift. I will conclude with my warmest wishes for all that is good to you. That you may live so as to be au ornament to your family, and a pattern to your sex.

AN EXTRACT FROM DR. FORDYCE'S SERMONS,

TO YOUNG WOMEN.

THAT admired maxim of heathen antiquity, "reverence thyself," seems to me peculiarly proper for a woman. She that does not reverence herself must not hope to be respected by others. I would therefore remind you of your own value. By encouraging you to entertain a just esteem for yourselves, I would on one hand guard you against every thing degrading, and on the other awaken your ambition to act upon the best standard of your sex; to aspire at every amiable, every noble quality that is adapted to your state, or that can insure the affection and preserve the importance to which you were born. Now this importance is very great, whether we consider you in your present single condition, or as afterwards connected in wedlock.

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Considering you, in your present single condition, I would begin where your duty in society begins, by putting you in mind how deeply your parents are interested in your behaviour. For the sake of the argument. I suppose your parents to be alive. Those, that have had the misfortune to be early deprived of theirs, are commonly left to the care of some friend or guardian, who is understood to supply their place; and to such my remarks on this head will not be altogether inapplicable.

Are you, who now hear me, blest with parents, that even in these times, and in this metropolis, where all the corruption and futility of the times are concentred, discover a zeal for your improvement and salvation? How thankful should you be for the mighty blessing! Would you show that you are thankful? Do nothing to make them unhappy; do all in your power to give them delight. Ah, did you but know how much it is in your power to give them!-But who can describe the transports of a breast truly parental, on beholding a daughter shoot up like some fair, but modest flower, and acquire day after day, fresh, beautiful, and growing sweetness, so as to fill every eye with pleasure, and every heart with admiration; while, like that same flower, she appears unconscious of her opening charms, and only rejoices in the sun that cheers, and the hand that shelters her? In this manner shall you, my lovely friend, repay most acceptably a part (you never can repay the whole) of that immense debt your owe for all the pains and fears formerly suffered, and for all the unutterable anxieties daily experienced on your account.

Perhaps you are the only daughter, perhaps the only child of your mother, and she a widow. All