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ceives their sacred words with as much attention and reverence as if she saw their persons, and knew that they were just come from Heaven on purpose to teach her the way that leads to it.
To relate her charity would be to relate the history of every day for twenty years; for so long has all her førtune been spent that way. She has set up near twenty poor tradesmen that had failed in their business, and saved as many from failing. She has educated several poor children, that were picked up in the streets, and put them in a way of an honest employment. As soon as any labourer is confined at home with sickness, she sends him, till he recovers, twice the value of his wages, that he may have one part to give to his family, as usual, and the other to provide things convenient for his sickness.
If a family seems too large to be supported by the labour of those that can work in it, she pays their rent, and gives them something yearly towards their clothing. By this means there are many poor families that live in a comfortable manner, and are from year to year blessing her in their prayers,
Miranda is a constant relief to poor people in their misfortunes and accidents. There are sometimes litile misfortunes that happen to them, which, of themselves, they could never be able to overcome. The death of a cow, or a horse, or some little robbery, would keep them in distress all their lives. She does not suffer them to grieve under such accidents as these. She immediately gives them the full value of their loss, and makes use of it as a means of raising their minds towards God.
This is the spirit, and this is the life of the devout Miranda; and, if she lives ten years longer, she will have spent sixty hundred pounds in charity, for that which she allows herself may be fairly reckoned among her alms.
When she dies, she must shine among apostles, and saints, and martyrs; she must stand among the first servants of God, and be glorious among those that have fought the good fight, and finished their course with joy.
BENDED knees, while you are clothed with pride ; heavenly petitions, while you are hoarding up treasures upon Earth; holy devotions, while you live in the follies of the world; prayers of meekness and charity, while your heart is the seat of spite and resentment; hours of prayer, while you give up days and years to idle diver. sions, impertinent visits, and foolish pleasures; are as absurd, unacceptable services to God, as forms of thanksgiving from a person that lives in repinings and discontent.
CÆLIA, A CHARACTER:
CÆLIA is always telling you how provoked she is, what intolerable, shocking things happen to her, what monstrous usage she suffers, and what vexations she meets with everywhere. She tells you, that her patience is quite worn out, and there is no bearing the behaviour of people. Every assembly that she is at sends her home provoked; something or other has been said or done, that no reasonable, well-bred person ought to bear. Poor people, that want her charity, are sent away with hasty answers, not because she has not a heart to part with any money, but because she is too full of some trouble of her own, to attend: to the complaints of others. Cælia has no business upon
her hands, but to receive the income of a plentiful fortune; but yet, by the doleful-turn of her mind, you would be apt to think, that she had neither food nor lodging. If you see her look more pale than ordinary, if her lips tremble when she speaks to you, it is because she is just come from a visit, where Lupus took no notice at all of her, but talked all the time to Lucinda, who has not half her fortune. When cross accidents have so disordered her spirits, that she is forced to send for the doctor to make her able to eat, she tells him, in great anger at Providence, that she never was well since she was born, and that she envies every beggar that she sees in health.
This is the disquiet life of Celia, who has nothing to torment her but her own spirit.
If you could inspire her with a Christian humility, you need do-no more to make her as happy as any person in the world. This virtue would make her thankful to God for half so much health as she has had, and help her to enjoy more for the time to come. This virtue would keep off tremblings of the spirits and loss of appetite, and her blood would need nothing else to sweeten it.
CONDUCT AND BEHAVIOUR.
ONE of the chief beauties in a female character is, that modest reserve, that retiring delicacy, which avoids the public eye, and is disconcerted even at the gaze of admiration. I do not wish you to be insensible to applause ; if you were, you must become, if not worse, at least less amiable women. But you may be dazzled by that admi. ration, which yet rejoices your hearts.
When a girl ceases to blush, she has lost the most pow. erful charm of beauty. That extreme sensibility, wbich is
indicates, may be a weakness and incumbrance in our sex, as I have too often felt; but in yours it is peculiarly engaging. Pedants, who think themselves pbilosophers, ask, why a woman should blush, when she is conscious of no crime? It is a sufficient answer, that Nature has made you to blush when you are guilty of no fault, and has forced us to love you because you do so. Blushing is so far from being necessarily an attendant on guilt, that it is the usual.companion of innocence.
This modesty, wbich I think so essential in your sex, will naturally dispose you to be rather silent in company, especially in a large one. People of sense and discernment will never mistake such silence for dulness. One may take a share of conversation without uttering a syllable. The expression in the couptenance shows it; and this never escapes an observing eye.
I should be glad that you had an easy dignity in your behaviour at public places; but not that confident ease, that unabashed countenance, which seems to set ihe company at defiance. If, while a gentleman is speaking to you, one of superior rank addresses you, do not let your eager attention and visible preference betray the flytter of your heart. Let your prile, on this occasion, preserve you from that meanness, into which your vanity would sink you. Consider, that you expose yourselves to the ridicule of the company, and affront one gentleman, only to swell the triumph of another, who perhaps thinks he does you honour in speaking to you.
Converse with men even of the first rank with that dignified modesty, which may prevent the approach of the most distant familiarity, and consequently prevent them from feeling themselves your superiors.
Wit is the inost dangerous talent you can possess : it must be guarded with great discretion and good nature, otherwise it will create you many enemies. Wit is per
fectly consistent with softness and delicacy; yet they are seldom found united. Wit is so flattering to sanity, that they who posses it become intoxicated, and loose all selfcommand.
Humour is a different quality; it will make your company much solicited: but be cautious how you indulge it. It is often a great enemy to delicacy, and a still greater one to dignity of character. It may sometimes gaia You applause, but will never procure you respect.
LADIES, whose natural vanity has been aggravated by a false education, may look down on economy as a vulgar attainment, unworthy of the attention of a highly cultivated intellect; but this is the false estimate of a shallow mind. Economy, such as a woman of fortune is called on to practise, is not merely the petty detail of small daily expenses, the shabby curtailments and stinted parsimony of a little mind, operating on little concerns; but it is the exercise of a sound judgment exerted in the comprehensive outline of order, of arrangement, of distribution; of regulations, by which alone well governed societies, great and small, subsist. She, who has the best regulated mind, will, other things being equal, have the best regulated family. As in the superintendance of the universe, wisdom is seen in it's effects; and as in the visible works of Providence, that which goes on with such beautiful regularity is the result not of chance but of design; so that management, which seems the most easy, is commonly the consequence of the best concerted plan ; and a well concerted plan is seldom the offspring of an ordinary mind. A sound economy is a sound understanding brought into