WE too often see beauty contaminated by vanity, and a fine genius by indolence. Bella was the only daughter of a tender and affectionate mother, whose virtue and discretion were a source of happiness to her family, and a credit to her sex. Bella, on her arrival at six years of age, afforded every symptom of a good heart, complaisance, affability, and a tolerable share of understanding. This was the glaring part of the picture; for the shade afforded a strange attachment to indolence, and a disgust to every species of refined education.

Though her mother possessed all the talents necessary for an excellent instructress, yet she had never before any opportunity of reducing them to practice, and an only child was not perhaps the most proper object for her experience in the science of juvenile education. It should ever be one important point with parents, never to give up a command they have once laid on their children, but punctually to insist on its performance. The observation of this rule would frequently save a great deal of uneasiness to both parents and children.

Her mother could not think of applying even the most tender correction, and the use of threatenings only added to her own uneasiness. She hoped, as her daughter grew older, she would become more sensible of her indolence and inattention to business, and, as she ripened in years, would proportionably increase in sense and judgment; but the older the twig grew the less pliant it became, and what might have been accomplished in its younger state, was by time become almost impracticable.

Bella, however, when she arrived at eight years of age, showed very little inclination to make any alteration in her conduct; the little creature's idleness rather increased than diminished, and she began to be troublesome even to herself. Her mother now conceived the plan of putting down on paper, every evening, the value of such things as she had lost or spoiled in the course of the day, in consequence of her carelessness and invincible indolence.

Her mother had flattered herself that Bella, when she came to know the value of money, would act in a more prudent manner; but she read over the account with the utmost indifference, and considered the sums there mentioned as too insignificant for her notice and attention. A pretended head-ache was almost her constant excuse to avoid her attendance on her masters; and thus, though naturally sincere, she began to accustom herself to deviate from the truth.

Bella had reached her thirteenth year, without the least appearance of alteration in her conduct, and the lost and broken account, kept by her mother, was increased to a large sum. One irregularity, if not timely checked, brings on others; and thus Bella to indolence soon added inconsistence. She presently grew tired of every thing; her harpsichord, which was one week her favourite instrument, was the next discarded with disgust, to make room for the guitar; and this, in a short time after, for something else. She had masters to teach her geography, French, and Italian; writing, accounts, dancing, drawing, and music. These added to her mother's long catalogue of expences, contributed but little to her improvement.

It is natural to suppose, that when the follies of youth are not early corrected, they will, like pernicious weeds, thrive so fast as to check the growth of every thing that is valuable in the same soil. Hence it happened, that after three years more had elapsed, the lovely Bella, instead of growing wiser by age, as her mother had vainly expected, became more indolent, whimsical, and capricious. All the money paid to her masters was thrown away, she learned nothing, and was in fact little more than an ignorant beauty: a character I most sincerely wish is not applicable to any of my fair readers, since nothing can be more dangerous, pernicious, and derogatory to female reputation.

At this period of her folly, a young gentleman of fortune and character, whom I shall call by the name of Honestus, among other company, visited the parents of Bella. He was struck with her charms, and immediately conceived some thought of paying his addresses to that capricious beauty; but, when he learned what was her character, he declined all thoughts of forming such a connection.

The tender mother did not fail to represent this disappointment to her daughter, who was then of an age capable to receive remonstrances of that nature. To her natural disposition for indolence she had now added pride, the forerunner of all evils to a female mind. Instead of properly feeling the reproaches of a tender mother, she haughtily replied, "It is true, I have lost a great deal of time, and have not improved myself much from the lessons of my masters; but what need have I of learning, when my parents are so rich, and you yourself acknowledge I am so pretty?"

As soon as Bella had attained her eighteenth year, she began to think herself happy in being no longer incommoded with the visits of her teachers; so, when a young lady arrives at that age, she is supposed to be accomplished in point of education, and has nothing else to do but to apply herself to the application of those rules she learned from her masters. Alas! this was not the case of the lovely Bella: she had learned nothing but those principles which never fail to be pernicious to the youthful mind.

That morning, which on its opening appeared to her so delightful and brilliant, was soon enveloped in dark and heavy clouds. Her mother entered her chamber with a countenance that convinced Bella something was amiss. After an awful pause, she thus addressed her daughter: "My dear child, you are this day eighteen years of age; but I fear your education is far short of what it now ought to be. I fear the indulgences I have granted you have made you too vain of yourself, and have fatally induced you to believe, that you had less occasion for an education than others. Will beauty make you lovely? separated from the graces of the mind, it will not so much as please. Are you not always uneasy in yourself, and constantly dissatisfied with others? Besides, rich as you imagine your father to be, are you sure that, while we are now speaking, he is not a ruined and undone man?"

The last words awakened in the bosom of Bella all the alarms which an unexpected disappointment to ambition is capable of feeling. Her mother got up, and left the room without saying any thing more.

The apprehensions of Bella on this occasion were but too well founded; for, in a few days after this conversation, her father stopped payment. This imprudent gentleman, not contented with a fortune of six thousand pounds a year, engaged in a very hazardous undertaking, which, happening to fail, brought on a bankruptcy. He had all his life been the child of fortune, and therefore made but a poor pupil in the school of adversity: he took this matter so to heart, that in spite of all the care and attention of his wife and daughter, he soon bid adieu to the cares of this world, and fled for repose to the next. He died perfectly sensible, exhorting those around him, never to give way to the emotions of avarice and rapacity, since these first brought him to ruin, and then to his grave.

His wife undoubtedly felt this shock severely, though she supported it with Christian fortitude. She had a small jointure, which the creditors could not, nor did they wish to touch. Having performed the duties of the last funeral rites to her husband, she and her daughter retired to a private situation in the west of England, where every necessary article of life was cheaper than in the metropolis.

Bella, however, behaved with all the propriety that could be expected from a repenting daughter, and made every effort she was capable of to console her unhappy mother. She would frequently reproach herself with her past negligence, and reckon up the vast sums of money that had been squandered away upon her to so little purpose.

Bella had valued herself much on the fortune she supposed herself born to; but it pleased Providence to deprive her of it. She had, however, her beauty still left to boast of; but even of this she was soon to be deprived. Be cautious, my youthful readers, how you place too great a confidence in the possession of wealth and beauty, since they are fleeting as the wind, and as unsteady as the vessel on the troubled billows of the ocean. Fortify your minds with religion and virtue, and a proper knowledge of the useful sciences; the storms and hurricanes of Fortune may then attack you, but you will always safely withstand their rage, and deride their fury.

One evening, while she was bewailing her past neglect, and vowing a reform for the future, she was seized with a head-ache, and being otherwise very ill, she went to bed. The next morning a violent fever seized her, and a physician being sent for, her disorder was declared to be that which is frequently so fatal to female beauty.

It was one of the most unpromising kind; the doctors could say but little, and the mother was driven to despair. Day after day, and night after night, her mother never left her bed-side, but was constantly with her, in a state of uncertainty, worse than that of death itself. The afflicted Bella became delirious, the disorder made a rapid progress, and her eyes were soon excluded from the light.

Though this circumstance is not uncommon in this fatal disorder, and therefore did not at first create any alarm in her mother, yet at last it increased to such a dangerous height, that the physicians were no longer able to dissemble matters, and candidly confessed their apprehensions, that her daughter would be blind all her life. Judge, if you can, what must be the feelings of a tender mother on so trying a calamity!

However, youth got the better of her disorder, very contrary to the expectation of her mother, the physicians, and every one around her; she also recovered her sight, but there were left terrible marks on her face of the devastation it had there made. As soon as she was able to walk about the room, she looked in the glass, and then exclaimed: "Ah! what is become of that lovely face, of which the proud Bella so lately boasted? Has cruel fortune robbed her of all she boasted, of all she valued herself for but a month ago, her fortune and her beauty? I am justly punished, and I will patiently submit."

Bella, thus instructed by misfortune, soon conquered her indolence, and all her former imperfections; a sudden revolution took place, and her very nature seemed to be reformed. Her mother's conversation now became delightful to her, and she began to sit down to study with unwearied attention. Reading, music, and drawing were her daily amusements; and so great were her improvements therein, that she soon made up for the time she had before thrown away in the most shameful indolence.

Her beauty was indeed vanished, but the improvements she made in her mind procured her more friends than she was ever before able to acquire by the charms of her person. Her shape was still truly elegant, and her eyes and countenance were still expressive of the vivacity of her heart. She was no longer expensive in her dress, though she was always neat and fashionable.—Though her visitors did not look upon her with that astonishment as formerly, yet they soon became captivated with the charms of her mind and the politeness of her conversation.

Two years had passed away in this retired situation, when Honestus, who had long before ceased to think of making a partner of Bella, on account of her capricious and indolent temper, being on some business in that quarter, called on the mother and daughter to see them. He was introduced into a parlour elegantly furnished, and adorned with pictures. "Is not this," said the lady, "a neat apartment? Every thing you here see, and these drawings in particular, are the works of my daughter."

Honestus was much surprised at hearing what he considered as a tale, and his looks expressed his incredulity. He turned round, and stedfastly gazing on the face of Bella, was equally astonished at seeing her so changed. "Is this the lovely creature," said he to himself, "with whose beauty I was once so much enraptured, and whom I forsook on account of her pride, vanity, and indolence!"

Out of politeness he entered into conversation with her, and found in her a most pleasing alteration: before she was a beauty without sense; now she had lost the charms of her face, but had found those of the mind, which are infinitely the most to be valued.

Honestus passed day after day in the company of Bella, whose conversation was so pleasing and attracting, that he began to feel himself uneasy when she was out of his sight. In order, therefore, that he might enjoy the pleasure of her company without interruption, he offered her his hand for life. "You certainly deserve her," said her mother, "since you refused her in the bloom of her beauty, when her fortune too afforded the most splendid promises, and now admire her when they are both for ever vanished."

Though the fortune of Honestus was not very splendid, yet it was sufficient, with the assistance of his trade, to keep up a genteel appearance, and to provide decently for a family, should such be the consequence of their marriage. They soon quitted this rural retreat and returned to London, where they now live in the enjoyment of all those pleasures which conjugal love, friendship, and virtue are capable of producing.

Let my youthful readers reflect on what they have here read, and they will then become sensible how vain and momentary, how fickle and inconstant are the possession of riches and beauty. They are like habitations built on the sands of the ocean, which are perpetually liable to be swept away by the violence of winds and floods. I mean not, that fortune and beauty are to be spised, I mean only that they should be used properly, and that the possessor of them should not vainly imagine, that they will supply the place of education, industry, benevolence, charity, and virtue.