conſtant progreſſive ſtate of improvement, whilſt the mind of a diſſipated woman is continually loſing ground. An active ſpirit rejoiceth, like the ſun, to run his daily courſe, while indolence, like the dial of Ahaz, goes backwards. The advantages which the underſtanding receives from polite literature, it is not here neceſſary to enumerate; its effects on the moral temper is the preſent object of conſideration. The remark may perhaps be thought too ſtrong, but I believe it is true, that next to religious influences, an habit of ſtudy is the moſt probable preſervative of the virtue of young perſons. Thoſe who cultivate letters have rarely a ſtrong paſſion for promiſcuous viſiting, or diſſipated ſociety; ſtudy therefore induces a reliſh for domeſtic life, the moſt deſirable temper in the world for women. Study, as it reſcues the mind from an inordinate fondneſs for gaming, dreſs, and public amuſements, is an [oe]conomical propenſity; for a lady may read at much leſs expence than ſhe can play at cards; as it requires ſome application, it gives the mind an habit of induſtry; as it is a relief againſt that mental diſeaſe, which the French emphatically call ennui, it cannot fail of being beneficial to the temper and ſpirits, I mean in the moderate degree in which ladies are ſuppoſed to uſe it; as an enemy to indolence, it becomes a ſocial virtue; as it demands the full exertion of our talents, it grows a rational duty; and when directed to the knowledge of the Supreme Being, and his laws, it riſes into an act of religion.

The rage for reformation commonly ſhews itſelf in a violent zeal for ſuppreſſing what is wrong, rather than in a prudent attention to eſtabliſh what is right; but we ſhall never obtain a fair garden merely by rooting up weeds, we muſt alſo plant flowers; for the natural richneſs of the ſoil we have been clearing will not ſuffer it to lie barren, but whether it ſhall be vainly or beneficially prolific, depends on the culture. What the preſent age has gained on one ſide, by a more enlarged and liberal way of thinking, ſeems to be loſt on the other, by exceſſive freedom and unbounded indulgence. Knowledge is not, as heretofore, confined to the dull cloyſter, or the gloomy college, but diſſeminated, to a certain degree, among both ſexes and almoſt all ranks. The only miſfortune is, that theſe opportunities do not ſeem to be ſo wiſely improved, or turned to ſo good an account as might be wiſhed. Books of a pernicious, idle, and frivolous ſort, are too much multiplied, and it is from the very redundancy of them that true knowledge is ſo ſcarce, and the habit of diſſipation ſo much increaſed.

It has been remarked, that the prevailing character of the preſent age is not that of groſs immorality: but if this is meant of thoſe in the higher walks of life, it is eaſy to diſcern, that there can be but little merit in abſtaining from crimes which there is but little temptation to commit. It is however to be feared, that a gradual defection from piety, will in time draw after it all the bad conſequences of more active vice; for whether mounds and fences are ſuddenly deſtroyed by a ſweeping torrent, or worn away through gradual neglect, the effect is equally deſtructive. As a rapid fever and a conſuming hectic are alike fatal to our natural health, ſo are flagrant immorality and torpid indolence to our moral well-being.

The philoſophical doctrine of the ſlow receſſion of bodies from the ſun, is a lively image of the reluctance with which we firſt abandon the light of virtue. The beginning of folly, and the firſt entrance on a diſſipated life coſt ſome pangs to a well-diſpoſed heart; but it is ſurpriſing to ſee how ſoon the progreſs ceaſes to be impeded by reflection, or ſlackened by remorſe. For it is in moral as in natural things, the motion in minds as well as bodies is accelerated by a nearer approach to the centre to which they are tending. If we recede ſlowly at firſt ſetting out, we advance rapidly in our future courſe; and to have begun to be wrong, is already to have made a great progreſs.

A constant habit of amuſement relaxes the tone of the mind, and renders it totally incapable of application, ſtudy, or virtue. Diſſipation not only indiſpoſes its votaries to every thing uſeful and excellent, but diſqualifies them for the enjoyment of pleaſure itſelf. It ſoftens the ſoul ſo much, that the moſt ſuperficial employment becomes a labour, and the ſlighteſt inconvenience an agony. The luxurious Sybarite muſt have loſt all ſenſe of real enjoyment, and all reliſh for true gratification, before he complained that he could not ſleep, becauſe the roſe leaves lay double under him.

Luxury and diſſipation, ſoft and gentle as their approaches are, and ſilently as they throw their ſilken chains about the heart, enſlave it more than the moſt active and turbulent vices. The mightieſt conquerors have been conquered by theſe unarmed foes: the flowery ſetters are faſtened, before they are felt. The blandiſhments of Circe were more fatal to the mariners of Ulyſſes, than the ſtrength of Polypheme, or the brutality of the Læſtrigons. Hercules, after he had cleanſed the Augean ſtable, and performed all the other labours enjoined him by Euriſtheus, found himſelf a ſlave to the ſoftneſſes of the heart; and he, who wore a club and a lion's ſkin in the cauſe of virtue, condeſcended to the moſt effeminate employments to gratify a criminal weakneſs. Hannibal, who vanquiſhed mighty nations, was himſelf overcome by the love of pleaſure; and he who deſpiſed cold, and want, and danger, and death on the Alps, was conquered and undone by the diſſolute indulgences of Capua.

Before the hero of the moſt beautiful and virtuous romance that ever was written, I mean Telemachus, landed on the iſland of Cyprus, he unfortunately loſt his prudent companion, Mentor, in whom wiſdom is ſo finely perſonified. At firſt he beheld with horror the wanton and diſſolute manners of the voluptuous inhabitants; the ill effects of their example were not immediate: he did not fall into the commiſſion of glaring enormities; but his virtue was ſecretly and imperceptibly undermined, his heart was ſoftened by their pernicious ſociety; and the nerve of reſolution was ſlackened: he every day beheld with diminiſhed indignation the worſhip which was offered to Venus; the diſorders of luxury and prophaneneſs became leſs and leſs terrible, and the infectious air of the country enfeebled his courage, and relaxed his principles. In ſhort, he had ceaſed to love virtue long before he thought of committing actual vice; and the duties of a manly piety were burdenſome to him, before he was ſo debaſed as to offer perfumes, and burn incenſe on the altar of the licentious goddeſs[3].

"Let us crown ourſelves with roſebuds before they be withered," ſaid Solomon's libertine. Alas! he did not reflect that they withered in the very gathering. The roſes of pleaſure ſeldom laſt long enough to adorn the brow