tration or entertainment, is a secret in the art of composition with which few, if any, have been so well acquainted. Her indefatigable pen was ever at work; kept in motion by a principle of incessant activity, never to stop but with her pulse; never to need the refreshment of change; and never to be weary in well-doing.

Thus to do good and to distribute was no less the work of her head than of her hand; and the rich and the great were among the objects of her charity. The specific relief of which they stood in need, she was ever forward to supply; and as she had passed so many of her earliest years among them, she knew well their wants, and how to administer to them. She was a woman of business, in all the concerns of humanity, refined or common, special or general, and had a sort of righteous cunning in dealing with different cases; exposing without irritating, reproving without discouraging, probing without wounding; always placing duty upon its right motives, and showing the perversity of error, by bringing it into close comparison with the loveliest forms of truth and godliness.

It was the privilege of her intellect, to work successfully in the face of forbidding circumstances, such as, in ordinary cases, repress vigour and slacken perseverance. In her early life, her powers of conversation led her into varied society, and principally into those assemblies where intellect is in the breath, and expires in evanescent displays, multiplying its ephemeral products to flutter and expire; — where a mind capable of things of lasting effect and extensive benefit, often lays out all its strength in thoughts that do but gild the fugitive hour, and fade from the memory, like the phantoms of a summer's cloud. Those who move amid such fascinations, are seldom extensive contributors to the treasury of human knowledge. It was therefore the more remarkable that Hannah More, during this part of her life, was actually accumulating, projecting, and accomplishing beneficial schemes and purposes; and as some rivers are said to pass through large receptacles of waters, without intermixture in their passage, and to roll onward, in their own course, till their destination is completed;-in some such manner did this single-minded woman travel through this gay medium without disturbance or diversion, till, in no long time, she gained a clear and uninterrupted current, dispensing beauty and fertility throughout her beneficent progress.

Of the works of her pen, we may in truth aver that they

have raised for her a monument which can never fail to remind her country of what it owes her. They are, for the most part, elevated above criticism by the noble purposes to which they were devoted, and by the decisive suffrages of the moral public.

There was hardly a period of her life which was not stamped with her intelligence. From her infantine days, books were her playthings; and her first discoveries were their own reward. The conscious capacity of doing good and making happy, seemed to possess her earliest thoughts, and to prompt her first wishes and efforts. That, setting out in such a course, and excited by the anticipations and predictions of all around her, she should set her first foot upon life's open stage, without art or enthusiasm, and with neither singularity of deportment nor conceit of superiority, - that she should carry with her the same consistency and sobriety of character, when her powers expanded, and terminate her brilliant career, with a composure which infirmities could not disturb, and a beneficence which age could not contract, are truths which those who admire excellence, will delight in contemplating, and those who love their country, will desire to see displayed and detailed with fidelity.

EXERCISE CXCV.

FEMALE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.

Hannah More.

A YOUNG lady may excel in speaking French and Italian; may repeat a few passages from a volume of extracts; play like a professor, and sing like a siren; have her dressingroom decorated with her own drawing-tables, stands, flowerpots, screens, and cabinets: nay, she may dance like Sempronia herself; and yet we shall insist, that she may have been very badly educated. I am far from meaning to set no value whatever on any or all of these qualifications: they are all of them elegant, and many of them properly tend to the perfecting of a polite education. These things, in their measure and degree, may be done; but there are others, which should not be left undone. Many things are becoming, but " one thing is needful." Besides, as the world seems

to be fully apprized of the value of whatever tends to embellish life, there is less occasion here to insist on its importance.

are

But, though a well-bred young lady may lawfully learn most of the fashionable arts; yet, let me ask, does it seem to be the true end of education, to make women of fashion dancers, singers, players, painters, actresses, sculptors, gilders, varnishers, engravers, and embroiderers? Most men commonly destined to some profession; and their minds are consequently turned each to its respective object. Would it not be strange, if they were called out to exercise their profession, or to set up their trade, with only a little general knowledge of the trades and professions of all other men, and without any previous definite application to their own peculiar calling?

The profession of ladies, to which the bent of their instruction should be turned, is that of daughters, wives, mothers, and mistresses of families. They should be, therefore, trained with a view to these several conditions, and be furnished with a stock of ideas, and principles, and qualifications, and habits, ready to be applied and appropriated, as occasion may demand, to each of these respective situations. For though the arts which merely embellish life, must claim admiration; yet, when a man of sense comes to marry, it is a companion whom he wants, and not an artist. It is not merely a creature who can paint, and play, and sing, and draw, and dress, and dance; it is a being who can comfort and counsel him; one who can reason, and reflect, and feel, and judge, and discourse, and discriminate;

one who can assist him in his affairs, lighten his cares, soothe his sorrows, purify his joys, strengthen his principles, and educate his children.

Ar an evening party at my father's, Dr. Johnson was announced. Every body rose to do him honour; and he returned the attention with the most formal courtesy. My father, then having welcomed him with the warmest respect, whispered to him that music was going forward; which he would

not, my father thinks, have found out; and placing him on the best seat vacant, told his daughters to go on with the duet; while Dr. Johnson, intently rolling towards them one eye, for they say he does not see with the other, made a grave nod, and gave a dignified motion with one hand, in silent approvance of the proceeding.

The doctor is indeed very ill-favoured! Yet he has naturally a noble figure; tall, stout, grand, and authoritative: but he stoops horribly; his back is quite round; his mouth is continually opening and shutting, as if he were chewing something; he has a singular method of twirling his fingers and twisting his hands; his vast body is in constant agitation, seesawing backwards and forwards; his feet are never a moment quiet; and his whole great person looked often as if it were going to roll itself quite voluntarily from its chair to the floor.

His dress, considering the times, and that he had meant to put on his best-becomes, for he was engaged to dine with a very fine party at Mrs. Montagu's, was as much out of the common road as his figure. He had a large, full, bushy wig, a snuff-coloured coat, with gold buttons, (or, peradventure, brass,) but no ruffles to his doughty fists; and not, I suppose, to be taken for a Blue, though going to the Blue Queen, - he had on very coarse black worsted stockings. He is shockingly near-sighted; a thousand times more so than either my father or myself. He did not even know Mrs. 'Thrale, till she held out her hand to him, which she did very engagingly.

When the duet was finished, my father introduced Miss Hester Burney to him, as an old acquaintance, to whom, when she was a little girl, he had presented his Idler. His answer to this was imprinting on her pretty face, - not a half touch of a courtly salute, but a good, real, substantial, and very loud kiss. Beyond this chaste embrace, his attention was not to be drawn off two minutes longer from the books, to which he now strided his way; for we had left the drawing-room for the library, on account of the piano-forte. He pored over them, shelf by shelf, almost brushing them with his eyelashes, from near examination. At last, fixing upon something that happened to hit his fancy, he took it down, and, standing aloof from the company, which he seemed clean and clear to forget, he began without further ceremony, and very composedly, to read to himself, and as intently as if he had been alone in his own study.

We were all excessively provoked; for we were languish ing, fretting, expiring, to hear him talk, not to see hin read! - what could that do for us?

My sister then played another duet, accompanied by my father, to which Mrs. Thrale seemed very attentive; and all the rest quietly resigned. But Dr. Johnson had opened a volume of the British Encyclopedia, and was so deeply engaged, that the music, probably, never reached his ears. When it was over, Mrs. Thrale, in a laughing manner, said, "Pray, Dr. Burney, will you be so good as to tell me what that song was, and whose, which was sung last night at Bach's concert, and which you did not hear?" My father confessed himself by no means so able a diviner, not having had time to consult the stars, though he lived in the house of Sir Isaac Newton. But anxious to draw Dr. Johnson into conversation, he ventured to interrupt him with Mrs. Thrale's conjuring request relative to Bach's concert.

The doctor, comprehending his drift, good-naturedly put away his book, and, seesawing, with a very humorous smile, drolly repeated, "Bach, sir? Bach's concert? And pray, sir, who is Bach? Is he a piper?"

You may imagine what exclamations followed such a question. Mrs. Thrale gave a detailed account of the nature of the concert, and the fame of Mr. Bach; and the many charming performances she had heard, with all their varieties, in his rooms.

When there was a pause, "Pray, madam," said he, with the calmest gravity, "what is the expense for all this?" "Oh!" answered she, "the expense is, - much trouble and solicitation to obtain a subscriber's ticket, or else, half-aguinea." "Trouble and solicitation," he replied, "I will have nothing to do with! — but, if it be so fine,-I would be willing to give," he hesitated, and then finished with, "eighteen pence, ha! ha!" Chocolate being then brought, we returned to the drawing-room; and Dr. Johnson, when drawn away from the books, freely, and with social goodhumour, gave himself up to conversation.

The intended dinner of Mrs. Montagu being mentioned, Dr. Johnson laughingly told us that he had received the most flattering note that he had ever read, or that any body else ever read, of invitation from that lady. "So have I, too, cried Mrs. Thrale. "So, if a note from Mrs. Montagu is to be boasted of, I beg mine may not be forgotten." note, madam," cried Dr. Johnson, smiling,

"Your

66 can bear no