much between you as to satisfy all your demands, it is sufficient.

I shall conclude with endeavouring to remove a difficulty which must naturally occur to any woman of reflection, on the subject of marriage. What is to become of all those refinements of delicacy, that dignity of manners, which checked all familiarities, and suspended desire in respectful and awful admiration? In answer to this, I shall only observe, that if motives of interest or vanity have had any share in your resolutions to marry, none of these chimerical notions will give you any pain, nay, they will very quickly appear as ridiculous in your own eyes, as they probably always did in the eyes of your husbands. They have been sentiments which have floated in your imaginations, but have never reached your hearts. But, if these sentiments have been truly genuine, and if you have had the singularly happy fate to attach those who understand them, you have no reason to be afraid.

Marriage, indeed, will at once dispel the enchantment raised by external beauty; but the virtues and graces that first warmed the heart, that reserve and delicacy which always left the lover something further to wish, and often made him doubtful of your sensibility or attachment, may and ought ever to remain. The tumult of passion will necessarily subside; but it will be succeeded by an endearment that affects the heart in a more equal, more sensible, and tender manner.-But I must check myself, and not indulge in descriptions that may mislead you, and that too sensibly awake the remembrance of my happier days, which, perhaps, it were better for me to forget for ever.

I have thus given you my opinion on some of the most important articles of your future life, I

chiefly calculated for that period when you are just
entering the world. I have endeavoured to avoid
some peculiarities of opinion, which, from their
contradiction to the general practice of the world,
I might reasonably have suspected were not so
well founded. But, in writing to you, I am afraid
my heart has been too full, and too warmly in-
terested, to allow me to keep this resolution. This
may have produced some embarrassment, and some
What I have written has
seeming contradictions.
been the amusement of some solitary hours, and
has served to divert some melancholy reflections.
I am conscious I undertook a task to which I was
very unequal, but I have discharged a part of my
duty. You will at least be pleased with it, as the
last mark of your father's love and attention.

1

END OF DR GREGORY'S LEGACY.

A

MOTHER'S ADVICE

TO HER

ABSENT DAUGHTERS.

BY

LADY PENNINGTON.

INTRODUCTION.

I labour to diffuse th' important good, Till this great truth by all be understood; "That all the pious duties which we owe "Our parents, friends, our country, and our God, "The seeds of every virtue here below, "From discipline alone, and early culture, grow."

WEST.

AMONG the various kinds of composition to which we are indebted for the discovery and improvement of those means which ameliorate the necessary evils of life, and promote the beneficial effects of civilization, none have a greater claim to our attention than the didactic. It is of consequence, as involving subjects which "come home to all men's business and bosoms;" having for its aim the tendency to increase our happiness, by adding to our stores of knowledge-a quality which, it is to be deeply regretted, many other branches of learning do not possess.

English literature, unrivalled in almost every other department, can likewise boast the greatest number that any country ever produced of excellent works of this nature; to which we may perhaps justly attribute the stricter morality observed among Britons of liberal education, compared with similar classes in other kingdoms;-the superior modesty, elegance, and worth, which so eminently distinguish the British female character.