How my mamma fpent her time when she was thus difburthened I am not able to inform you, but I have reason to believe that trifles and amusements took ftill fafter hold of her heart. At first, fhe vifited me at school, and afterwards wrote to me; but in a fhort time, both her visits and her letters were at an end, and no other notice was taken of me than to remit money for my support. When I came home, at the vacation, I found myself coldly received, with an obfervation," that "this girl will presently be a woman." I was, after the usual stay, sent to school again, and overheard my mother fay, as I was a-going, "Well, now I "fhall recover." In fix months more I came again, and with the ufual childish alacrity, was running to my mother's embrace, when she stopt me with exclamations at the fuddenness and enormity of my growth, having, fhe faid, never seen any body shoot up fo much at my age. She was fure no other girls fpread at that rate, and the hated to have children look like women before their time. I was difconcerted, and retired without hearing any thing more than, "Nay, if you are angry, madam Steeple, you may "walk off." When once the forms of civility are violated, there remains little hope of return to kindness or decency. My mamma made this appearance of refentment a reason for continuing her malignity, and poor Mifs Maypole, for that was my appellation, was never mentioned or fpoken to but with fome expreffion of anger or dislike. She had yet the pleasure of dreffing me like a child, and I know not when I fhould have been thought fit to change my habit, bad I not been ref B 6 cued cued by a maiden fifter of my father, who could not bear to fee women in hanging fleeves, and therefore prefented me with brocade for a gown, for which I fhould have thought myself under great obligations, had the not accompanied her favour with fome hints that my mamma might now confider her age, and give me her car-rings, which fhe had fhewn long enough in publick places. I now left the school and came to live with my mamma, who confidered me as an ufurper that had feized the rights of a woman before they were due, and was pushing her down the precipice of age, that I might reign without a fuperior. While I am thus beheld with jealousy and suspicion, you will readily believe that it is difficult to pleafe. Every word and look is an offence. I never fpeak but I pretend to fome qualities and 'excellencies, which it is criminal to poffefs; if I am gay, she thinks it early enough to coquette; if I am grave, fhe hates a prude in bibs; if I venture into company, I am in hafte for a husband; if I retire to my chamber, fuch matron-like ladies are lovers of contemplation. I am on one pretence or other generally excluded from her affemblies, nor am I ever suffered to visit at the fame place with my mamma. Every one wonders why the does not bring Miss more into the world, and when she comes home in vapours I* am certain that she has heard either of my beauty or my wit, and expect nothing for the enfuing week but taunts and menaces, contradiction and reproaches. Thus I live in a ftate of continual perfecution, only because I was born ten years too foon, and cannot stop the course of nature or of time, but unhappily a woman before my mother can will 4 ingly ingly ceafe to be a girl. I believe you would contribute to the happiness of many families, if, by any arguments or perfuafions, you could make mothers afhamed of rivalling their children; if you could fhew them, that though they may refuse to grow wife, they must inevitably grow old; and that the proper folaces of age are not mufick and compliments, but wifdom and devotion; that those who are fo unwilling to quit the world will foon be driven from it; and that it is therefore their intereft to retire while there yet remain a few hours for nobler employments. I am, &c. NUMB. 56. SATURDAY, Sept. 29, 1750. Valeat res ludicra, fi me Palma negata macrum, donata reducit opimum. Farewel the stage; for humbly I disclaim HOR. FRANCIS NOTHING is more unpleafing than to find that offence has been received when none was intended, and that pain has been given to those who were not guilty of any provocation. As the great end of fociety is mutual beneficence, a good man is always uneafy when he finds himself acting in oppofition to the purposes of life; because though his confcience may eafily acquit him of malice prepenfe, of fettled hatred or contrivances of mischief, yet he feldom can be certain, that he he has not failed by negligence, or indolence; that he has not been hindered from confulting the common interest by too much regard to his own eafe, or too much indifference to the happiness of others. Nor is it neceffary, that, to feel this uneasiness, the mind fhould be extended to any great diffufion of generofity, or melted by uncommon warmth of benevolence; for that prudence which the world teaches, and a quick sensibility of private interest, will direct us to shun needlefs enmities; fince there is no man whose kindness we may not fome time want, or by whose malice we may not fome time fuffer. I have therefore frequently looked with wonder, and now and then with pity, at the thoughtleffness with which fome alienate from themselves the affections of all whom chance, bufinefs, or inclination, brings in their way. When we fee a man pursuing fome darling intereft, without much regard to the opinion of the world, we justly confider him as corrupt and dangerous, but are not long in discovering his motives; we fee him actuated by paffions which are hard to be refifted, and deluded by appearances which have dazzled ftronger eyes. But the greater part of those who fet mankind at defiance by hourly irritation, and who live but to infufe malignity and multiply enemies, have no hopes to fofter, no defigns to promote, nor any expectations of attaining power by infolence, or of climbing to greatness by trampling on others. They give up all the fweets of kindness, for the fake of pecvifhnefs, petuIance, or gloom; and alienate the world by neglect lect of the common forms of civility, and breach of the established laws of conversation. Every one muft, in the walks of life, have met with men of whom all speak with cenfure, though they are not chargeable with any crime, and whom none can be perfuaded to love, though a reason can fcarcely be affigned why they should be hated; and who, if their good qualities and actions fometimes force a commendation, have their panegyrick always concluded with confeffions of difguft; "he " is a good man, but I cannot like him." Surely such persons have fold the esteem of the world at too low a price, fince they have loft one of the rewards of virtue, without gaining the profits of wickedness. This ill economy of fame is fometimes the effect of ftupidity. Men whofe perceptions are languid and fluggish, who lament nothing but lofs of money, and feel nothing but a blow, are often at a difficulty to guess why they are encompaffed with enemies, though they neglect all thofe arts by which men are endeared to one another. They comfort themselves that they have lived irreproachably; that none can charge them with having endangered his life, or diminished his poffeffions; and therefore conclude that they fuffer by fome invincible fatality, or impute the malice of their neighbours to ignorance or envy. They wrap themfelves up in their innocence, and enjoy the congratulations of their own hearts, without knowing or fufpecting that they are every day defervedly incurring refentments, by withholding from those with whom they converse, that regard, or appearance of regard, to which - every one is entitled by the cuftoms of the world. There' |