we

may, perhaps, in that particular point, improve by them ; and if we do not gain information, we shall at least gain a wholesome exercise to our humility and self-denial; shall be restraining our own impetuosity; we shall, if we take this, course on just occasions only, and so as to beware lest we gratify the vanity of others, be giving confidence to a doubting, or cheerfulness to a depressed spirit. And to place a just remark, hazarded by the diffident, in the most advantageous point of view; to call the attention of the inattentive, the forward, and the self-sufficient, to some quiet person in the company, who, though of much worth, is perhaps of little note; these are requisites for conversation, less brilliant, but far more valuable, than the power of exciting bursts of laughter by the brightest wit, or of extorting admiration by the most poignant sallies of ridicule.

For wit is of all the qualities of the female mind that which requires the severest castigation; yet the temperate exercise of this fascinating quality throws an additional lustre round the character of an amiable woman; for to manage with discreet modesty a dangerous talent, confers a higher praise than can be claimed by those in whom the absence of the talent takes away the temptation to misem. ploy it. To women, wit is a peculiarly perilous possession, which nothing short of the sobermindedness of Christianity can keep in order. Intemperate wit craves admiration as its natural aliment; it lives on flattery as its daily bread. The professed wit is a hungry beggar, that subsists on the extorted alms of perpetual panegyric; and like the vulture in the Grecian fable, its appetite increases by indulgence. Simple truth and sober approbation become tasteless and insipid to the palate, daily vitiated by the delicious poignancies of exaggerated commendation. Under the above restrictions, however, wit may be safely and pleasantly exercised; for chastised wit is an elegant and well-bred, and not unfeminine quality. But humour, especially if it degenerate into imitation, or mimicry, is very sparingly to be ventured on; for it is so difficult totally to detach it from the suspicion of buffoonery, that a woman will be likely to lose more of that delicacy which is her appropriate grace, than she will gain in the eyes of the judicious, by the most successful display of humour. But if it be true that some women are too apt to affect

brilliancy and displayin their own discourse, and to under. value the morehumblepretensionsof less showycharacters; it must be confessed also, that some of more ordinaryabilities are now and then guilty of the opposite error, and foolishly affect to value themselves on not making use of the understanding they really possess. They exhibit no small satisfaction in ridiculing women of high intellectual endowments, while they exclaim with much affected hu. mility, and much real envy, that "they are thankful they are not geniuses." Now, though one is glad to hear grat. itude expressed on any occasion, yet the want of sense is really no such great mercy to be thankful for; and it would indicate a better spirit, were they to pray to be ena bled to make a right use of the moderate understanding they possess, instead of exposing with a visible pleasure the imaginary or real defects of their more shining acquaint ance. Women of the brightest faculties should not only "bear those faculties meekly," but consider it as no derogation, cheerfully to fulfil those humbler duties which make up the business of common life, always taking into the account the higher responsibility attached to higher gifts. Whilewomen of lower attainments should exert to the utmost such abilities as Providence has assigned them ; and while they should not deride excellencies which are above their reach, they should not d spord at du leforjen. ky which did not depend on theriselves; to, God has denied them ten talents, should they forget that they are equally responsible for the one he has allotted them, but set aboutdevoting that one with humble dili. gence to the glory of the Giver.

cause

Vanity, however, is not the monopoly of talents: let not a young lady, therefore, fancy that she is humble, merely because she is not ingenious. Humility is not the exclusive privilege of dulness. Folly is as conceited as wit, and ignorance many a time outstrips knowledge in the race of vanity. Equally earnest competitions spring from causes less worthy to excite them than wit and genius. Vanity insinuates itself into the female heart under a va riety of unsuspected forms, and seizes on manya little pass which was not thought worth guarding.

Who has not seen as restless emotion agitate the features of an anxious matron, while peace and fame hung trembling in doubtful suspense on the success of a soup or

i sauce, on which sentence was about to be pronounced by some consummate critic, as could have been excited by any competition for literary renown, or any struggle for contested wit? Nor was the illustrious hero of Greece more effectually hindered from sleeping by the trophies of Miltiades, than many a modish damsel by the eclipsing superiority of some newer decoration exhibited by her more successful friend.

There is another species of vanity in some women which disguises itself under the thin veil of an affected humility; they will accuse themselves of some fault from which they are remarkably exempt, and lament the want of some tal. ent which they are rather notorious for possessing. This is not only a clumsy trap for praise, but there is a disingenuous intention, by renouncing a quality they eminently possess to gain credit for others in which they are really deficient. All affectation involves a species of deceit. The Apostle when he enjoins, "not to think of ourselves more highly than we ought," does not exhort us to think falselyof ourselves, but to think "soberly;" and it is worth observing that in this injunction he does not use the word speak, but think, inferring possibly, that it would be saf er to speak little of ourselves, or not at all; for it is so far from being an unequivocal proof of our humility to talk even of our defects, that while we make self the sub. ject, in whatever way, self-love contrives to be gratified, and will even be content that our faults should be talked of, rather than that we should not be talked of at all. Some are also attacked with such proud fits of humility, that while they are ready to accuse themselves of almost every sin in the lump, they yet take fire at the imputation of the slightest individual fault; and instantly enter upon their own vindication as warmly as if you, and not themselves, had brought forward the charge. The truth is, they ventured to condemn themselves, in the full con. fidence that you would contradict them; the last thing they intended was that you should believe them, and they are never so much piqued and disappointed as when they are taken at their word.

Of the various shapes and undefined forms into which vanity branches out in conversation, there is no end. Out of a restless desire to please, grows the spurious desire to astonish from vanity as much as from credulity, arises

*that strong love of the marvellous, with which the conversation of the ill-educated abounds. Hence that fondness for dealing in narratives hardly within the compass of possibility. Here vanity has many shades of gratification; those shades will be stronger or weaker, whether the relater chance to have been an eye-witness of the wonder she recounts; or whether she claim only the second-hand renown of its having happened to her friend, or the still remoter celebrity of its having been witnessed only by her friend's friend: but even though that friend only knew the man, who remembered the woman, who actually beheld the thing which is now causing admiration in the com. pany, still self, though in a fainter degree, is brought into notice, and the relater contrives in some circuitous way to be connected with the wonder.

To correct this propensity "to elevate and surprise,"* it would be well in mixed society to abstain altogether from hazarding stories, which, though they may not be absolutely false, yet lying without the verge of probability, are apt to impeach the credit of the narrator; in whom the very consciousness that she is not believed, excites an increased eagerness to depart till farther from the soberness of truth, and induces a habit of vehement asseveration, which is too often called in to help out a questionable point. +

There is another shape, and a very deformed shape it is, in which loquacious vanity shews itself; I mean, the betraying of confidence. Though the act be treacherous, yet the fault, in the first instance, is not treachery, but vanity.

It does not so often spring from the mischievous desire of divulging a secret, as from the pride of having been trusted with it. It is the secret inclination of mixing self with whatever is important. The secret would be of little value if the revealing it did not serve to intimate our connexion with it; the pleasure of its having been deposit..

*The Rehearsal.

This is also a good rule in composition. An event, though it may actually have happened, yet if it be out of the reach of probability, or contrary to the common course of nature, will seldom be chosen as a subject by a writer of good taste; for he knows that a probable fiction will interest the feelings more than an unlikely truth. Verisimilitude is indeed the poet's truth, but the truth of the moralist is of a more sturdy growth.

ed with us would be nothing, if others may not know it has been so deposited. When we continue to see the variety of serious evils this principle involves, shall we persist in asserting that vanity is a slender mischief?

There is one offence, committed in conversation, of much too serious a nature to be overlooked, or to be an. imadverted on without sorrow and indignation: I mean, the habitual and thoughtless profaneness of those who are repeatedly invoking their Maker's name on occasions the most trivial. It is offensive in all its variety of aspects ;it is very pernicious in its effects;—it is a growing evil ;those who are most guilty of it, are, from habit, hardly conscious when they do it; are not aware of the sin; and for both these reasons, without the admonitions of faithful friendship, little likely to discontinue it. It is utterly INEXCUSABLE ;—it has none of the palliatives of temptation which other vices plead, and in that respect stands distinguished from all others, both in its nature and degree of guilt. Like many other sins, however, it is at once cause and effect; it proceeds from want of love and reverence to the best of Beings, and causes that want, both in themselves and others. Yet with all those aggravations, there is, perhaps, hardly any sin so frequently committed, so seldom repented of, and so little guarded against.

On

the score of impropriety too, it is additionally offensive, as being utterly repugnant to female delicacy, which often affects to be shocked at swearing in a man. Now this species of profaneness is not only swearing, but, perhaps, in some respects, swearing of the worst sort; as it is a direct breach of an express command, and offends against the very letter of that law, which says in so many words, THOU SHALT NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD THY GOD IN VAIN. It offends against delicacy and good breeding; for those, who commit it, little think of the pain they are inflicting on the sober mind, which is deeply wounded when it hears the holy name it loves dishonoured; and it is as contrary to good breeding to give pain, as it is to true piety to be profane.

I would endeavour to give some faint idea of the grossness of this offence, by an analogy (O! how inadequate !) with which the feeling heart, even though not seasoned with religion, may be touched. To such I would earnestly say: Suppose you had some beloved friend,-to put VOL. II.

F