interest and welfare. I flatter myself you will not be offended with the

liberty here taken, by

HONORED MADAM,

Your sincere friend, and affectionate aunt.

LETTER 35.

The young Lady's Answer.

He

I received your letter, and when I consider your reasons for writing, I thankfully acknowledge you my friend. It is true, I have been at those public places you mention, along with Mr. Lovelace, but was ignorant of his real character. He did make me proposals of marriage, but I told him I would do nothing without my father's consent. came to visit me this morning, when I told him, that a regard for my reputation, obliged me never to see him any more nor even to correspond with him by letter, and you may depend on my adhering to that resolution. In the meantime, I return you a thousand thanks for your friendly advice. I am sensible every young woman ought to be careful of her reputation, and constantly avoid the company of libertines. To convince you of my sincerity, I shall leave New-York in about six weeks, and will call and see you after I have been at my father's.

am, honored madam, your affectionate niece.

LETTER 36.

From a Sailor at New-York, to his Wife in Albany.

DEAR BETTY,

We are just returned from a cruise against the Algerines, where we have given them such a drubbing that I believe the infidels will soon be glad to make peace with us. We have sunk two, and taken three of heir vessels, wherein is great treasure; but it will be sometime before we receive our prize money. However, I have six months wages due, and I have sent you an order by which you will receive it at the pay office. We shall sail again in a few days. Do not be uneasy for me, my dear, as I hope the war will soon be over, and I shall have the pleasure, once more, to see you in New-York, there to spend the sa mainder of my days.

I am your loving husband till death,

LETTER 37.

From a young Woman, a servant in New-York, to her Parents, desiring their consent to marry.

HONORED FATHER AND MOTHER,

I have sent this to inform you, that one Mr. Blanchard, a young man, a cabinet maker, has paid his addresses to me and now offers me mar riage; I told him I would do nothing without your consent, and therefore, have sent this by Mr. Odlin, your neighbor, who called on me, and will inform you particularly of his circumstances.

The young man has been set up in business about two years, and is very regular and sober. Most people in the neighborhood esteem him, and his business is daily increasing. I think I could live extremely

happy with him, but do not choose to give him my promise, untu I have first heard from from you; whatever answer you send, shall be obcyed Your affectionate daughter.

by

DEAR CHILD,

LETTER 38.

The Parents' Answer.

We received your letter by Mr. Odlin, and the character he gives of the young man is so agreeable that we have no objection to your marrying him; begging that you will seriously consider the duties of that important state before it is too late to repent. Consider well with yourself, that according to your conduct to each other, you must be happy or miserable as long as you live. There are many occurrences in life, in which the best of men's tempers may be ruffled, on account of losses or disappointments; if your husband should at any time be so, endeavor to make him as easy as possible. Be careful of every thing he commits to you; and never affect to appear superior to your station; for although your circumstances may be easy, yet, whilst in trade, you will find a continual want of money for many different purposes. It is possible some of your more polite neighbors may despise you for a while, but they will be forced in the end to acknowledge, that your conduct was consistent with the duties of a married state. But, above all, remember your duty to God, and then you may cheerfully look for a blessing on your honest endeavor. May God direct you in every thing for the best, is the sincere prayer of Your loving father and mother.

LETTER 39.

From a Father to a Daughter, in dislike of her intentions to marry at too early an age.

DEAR LUCRETIA,

I was greatly surprised at the letter you sent me last week I was willing to believe I saw in you for your years, so much of your late dear mother's temper, prudence, and a virtuous disposition, that I refused several advantageous offers of changing my own condition, purely for your sake and will you now convince me so early that I have no return to expect from you, but that the moment a young fellow throws himself in your way you have nothing else to do, but to give notice to provide a fortune for you? and that you intrud to be of no further use and service to me? this, in plain English, is the meaning of your notification. For I suppose your young man does not intend to marry you without a fortune. And can you then think, that a father has nothing to do, but to confer benefits on his children, without being entitled to expect any return from them?

To be sure, I had proposed at a proper time, to find a husband for you; but I thought I had yet three or four years to come. For, consider, Lucretia, you are not fully sixteen years of age; and a wife, believe me, ought to have some better qualifications than an agreeable person, to preserve a husband's esteem, though it often is enough to attract a lover's notice.

Have you experience enough, think you, discreetly to conduct the affairs of a family? I thought you as yet not quite capable to manage my house; and I am sure my judgment always took a bias in your favor.

Besides, let me tell you, I have great excep.ions to the person, and think him by no means the man I would choose for your husband. For which, if it be not too late, I will give you good reasons

On the whole, you must expect if you marry without my consent, to live without my assistance. Think it not hard: your disappointment cannot be greater than mine, if you will proceed. I have never used violent measures with you on any occasion, and shall not on this. But yet I earnestly hope you will not hurry yourself to destruction, and me perhaps to the grave, by an action which a little consideration may so easily prevent. I am your afflicted father.

LETTER 40.

From an elder to a younger Brother, cautioning him in the choice of a wife.

DEAR WILLIAM,

Your interest is more the object of my thoughts, than you, perhaps, imagine. I feel it to be my duty to advise you for your good, and particularly in a point that may be so material to your whole life as that of love. Miss Folsom is amiable on many accounts; her features are reg ular, her wit sprightly, her deportment genteel, and her voice, I had almost said, ravishing. Yet do I greatly fear, with all these endowments, she will not make the wife you ought to wish for. Her airy flights, and gay behaviour are pleasing as a partner in conversation; but will they be equally agreeable in a partner for life? What now charms you, charms all others. Though she is delightful in company, are you satisfied she will be as agreeable when alone with you, or when she has not an opportunity of figuring away in company? She now sees nobody but whom she chooses to see; if she should be a wife it is more than probable that she may not like restraints; and can you approve of a diffuse conversation in one you desire to yourself? Think not, brother, that I have any interested motive for this advice, for I assure you I have not. I am not your rival; nor do I desire the lady you seem so fond of. As very few prudent matches are made by young gentlemen of your age, I caution you against thinking of a young woman who may be a suitable companion to a gentleman whose station and choice lead him into much company and gay life; but to men whose circumstances require a more retired way of life, it is obvious a woman, whose talents lie principally in conversation, can never for that reason only, justify a young gentleman for choosing her for a wife. Shut not your ears to reason, forget not yourself, and be sure to remember that the pleasure of an hour or two, and that of twenty or thirty years, or a whole life, must arise from very different sources. I am, dear brother, yours, most affectionately.

LETTER 41.

From a Daughter to her Father, pleading for her Sister, who had married without his consent.

HONORED SIR,

The kind indulgence you have always shown to your children, makes

me presume to become an advocate for my sister, though not for her fauk. She is very sensible of that, and sorry she has offended you; but has great hopes that Mr. Stebbins will prove such a careful and loving hus band to her, as may atone for her past wildness, and engage your forgiveness; for all of your children are sensible of your paternal kindness, and that you wish their good more for their sakes than your own.

This makes it the more wicked to offend so good a father: but, dear sir, be pleased to consider, that it cannot now be helped, and that she may be made by your displeasure very miserable in her choice; ana that his faults are owing to the inconsideration of youth: otherwise, it would not have been a very discreditable match, had it had your approbation. I could humbly hope for my poor sister's sake that you will be pleased rather to encourage his present good resolutions by your kind favor, than to make him despair of a reconciliation, and so perhaps treat her with a negligence, which hitherto she is not apprehensive of; for he is really very fond of her, and I hope will continue so. Yet is she dejected for her fault to you, and wishes yet dreads to have your leave to throw herself at your feet, to beg your forgiveness and blessing, which would make the poor dear offender quite happy.

Pardon, sir, my interposing in her favor, in which my husband also joins. She is my sister. She is your daughter; though she has not done so worthily as I wish, to become that character. Be pleased, sir, to forgive her, however; and also forgive me, pleading for her; who Your ever dutiful daughter.

am

DEAR NANCY,

LETTER 42.

The Father's Answer.

You must believe that your sister's unadvised marriage, which she must know would be disagreeable to me, gives me no small concern; and yet I will assure you that it arises more from my affection for her, than any other consideration. In her education I took all the pains and care my ciscumstances would admit, and often flattered myself with the hope that the happy fruits of it would be made to appear in her prudent conduct. What she has now done is not vicious, but indiscreet; you must remember, that I have often declared in her hearing, that the wild assertion of a rake making a good husband, was the most dangerous opinion a young woman could imbibe.

I will not however, in pity to her, point out the many ills I am afraid will attend her rashness, because it is done, and cannot be helped; but wish she may be happier than I ever saw a woman who leaped so fatal a precipice.

Her husband has this mo ning been with me for her fortune; and it was with much decision I to him, that as all she could hope for was at my disposal, I should disburse it in such a manner as I thought would most contribute to her advantage; and that as he was a stranger to me, I should choose to know how he deserved it, before he had the power over what I intended for her. He bit his lip, and with a hasty step was my humble servant.

Tell the rash girl I would not have her to be afflicted at this behav

tour in me; for I know it will contribute to her advantage one way o other; if he married her for her own sake, she will find no alteration of behaviour from this disappointment; but if he married only for her money, she will soon be glad to find it in my possession, rather than his.

Your interposition in her behalf is very sisterly, and you see I have not the resentment she might expect. But I truly wish, that she had acted with your prudence; for her own sake I wish it.

LETTER 43.

I am your loving father

From an Uncle to his Nephew, on the pernicious habit of drinking to excess.

DEAR NEPHEW,

When I consider your age, inexperience, and situation, and how of ten you will, unavoidably, be led into company, I think I cannot employ a vacant hour better, than in laying before you a few thoughts on the detestable practice of drinking to excess; and I enter on this business the more cheerfully, because I am confident you have hitherto been careful to follow my advice.

There is no vice carries a greater shame and odium in it than drunk. enness. There is no spectacle we behold with greater aversion and contempt. It sinks a man infinitely below the beasts that perish. The brutes are guilty of no excess: this is the prerogative of man. This shameful vice throws the mind into universal confusion and uproar ; lays the understanding and reason in sad and deplorable ruins; effaces every thing that can be called the image of God; extinguishes reason and inflames the passions; dethrones the judgment, and exalts our worst desires in its place. The world has not in it a more contemptible sight than a rational creature in this condition. A famous republic of old used to make their slaves drunk, and expose them in that condition to their children, that, by seeing their ridiculous actions, hearing their ri diculous expressions, and beholding that deplorable alienation of reason which this vice occasions, they might be effectually deterred from it. They thought, says an useful writer, that were they to apply wholly to the reason of their youth, it might prove to little purpose, as the force of the arguments, which they now employed, might not be sufficiently comprehended, or the impression might soon be effaced: but when they made them frequently eye witnesses of all the madness and absurdities and at length of the perfect senselessness which the immoderate draught occasioned, the idea of the vile change would be so fixed in the minds of its beholders, as to render them utterly averse to its cause.

And may we not justly conclude it to be from hence, that the offspring of the persons who are accustomed thus to disguise themselves, often prove remarkably sober? They avoid in their riper years their parent's crime, from that detestation of it which they contracted in their earlier years. As to most other vices, their debasing circumstances are not fully known to us, till we have attained a maturity of age: nor can le then, till they have been duly attended to. But in our very childhood, a our first beholding the effects of drunkenness, we are stricken with as tonishment, that a rational being should be thus changed, and be induced