It is with the utmoſt diffidence that the following pages are ſubmitted to the inſpection of the Public: yet, however the limited abilities of the author may have prevented her from ſucceeding to her wiſh in the execution of her preſent attempt, ſhe humbly truſts that the uprightneſs of her intention will procure it a candid and favourable reception. The following little Eſſays are chiefly calculated for the younger part of her own ſex, who, ſhe flatters herſelf, will not eſteem them the leſs, becauſe they were written immediately for their ſervice. She by no means pretends to have compoſed a regular ſyſtem of morals, or a finiſhed plan of conduct: ſhe has only endeavoured to make a few remarks on ſuch circumſtances as ſeemed to her ſuſceptible of ſome improvement, and on ſuch ſubjects as ſhe imagined were particularly intereſting to young ladies, on their firſt introduction into the world. She hopes they will not be offended if ſhe has occaſionally pointed out certain qualities, and ſuggeſted certain tempers, and diſpoſitions, as peculiarly feminine, and hazarded ſome obſervations which naturally aroſe from the ſubject, on the different characters which mark the ſexes. And here again ſhe takes the liberty to repeat that theſe diſtinctions cannot be too nicely maintained; for beſides thoſe important qualities common to both, each ſex has its reſpective, appropriated qualifications, which would ceaſe to be meritorious, the inſtant they ceaſed to be appropriated. Nature, propriety, and cuſtom have preſcribed certain bounds to each; bounds which the prudent and the candid will never attempt to break down; and indeed it would be highly impolitic to annihilate diſtinctions from which each acquires excellence, and to attempt innovations, by which both would be loſers.

Women therefore never underſtand their own intereſts ſo little, as when they affect thoſe qualities and accompliſhments, from the want of which they derive their higheſt merit. "The porcelain clay of human kind," ſays an admired writer, ſpeaking of the ſex. Greater delicacy evidently implies greater fragility; and this weakneſs, natural and moral, clearly points out the neceſſity of a ſuperior degree of caution, retirement, and reſerve.

If the author may be allowed to keep up the alluſion of the poet, juſt quoted, ſhe would aſk if we do not put the fineſt vaſes, and the coſtlieſt images in places of the greateſt ſecurity, and moſt remote from any probability of accident, or deſtruction? By being ſo ſituated, they find their protection in their weakneſs, and their ſafety in their delicacy. This metaphor is far from being uſed with a deſign of placing young ladies in a trivial, unimportant light; it is only introduced to inſinuate, that where there is more beauty, and more weakneſs, there ſhould be greater circumſpection, and ſuperior prudence.

Men, on the contrary, are formed for the more public exhibitions on the great theatre of human life. Like the ſtronger and more ſubſtantial wares, they derive no injury, and loſe no poliſh by being always expoſed, and engaged in the conſtant commerce of the world. It is their proper element, where they reſpire their natural air, and exert their nobleſt powers, in ſituations which call them into action. They were intended by Providence for the buſtling ſcenes of life; to appear terrible in arms, uſeful in commerce, ſhining in counſels.

The Author fears it will be hazarding a very bold remark, in the opinion of many ladies, when ſhe adds, that the female mind, in general, does not appear capable of attaining ſo high a degree of perfection in ſcience as the male. Yet ſhe hopes to be forgiven when ſhe obſerves alſo, that as it does not ſeem to derive the chief portion of its excellence from extraordinary abilities of this kind, it is not at all leſſened by the imputation of not poſſeſſing them. It is readily allowed, that the ſex have lively imaginations, and thoſe exquiſite perceptions of the beautiful and defective, which come under the denomination of Taſte. But pretenſions to that ſtrength of intellect, which is requiſite to penetrate into the abſtruſer walks of literature, it is preſumed they will readily relinquiſh. There are green paſtures, and pleaſant vallies, where they may wander with ſafety to themſelves, and delight to others. They may cultivate the roſes of imagination, and the valuable fruits of morals and criticiſm; but the steepſ of Parnaſſus few, comparatively, have attempted to ſcale with ſucceſs. And when it is conſidered, that many languages, and many ſciences, muſt contribute to the perfection of poetical compoſition, it will appear leſs ſtrange. The lofty Epic, the pointed Satire, and the more daring and ſucceſsful flights of the Tragic Muſe, ſeem reſerved for the bold adventurers of the other ſex.

Nor does this aſſertion, it is apprehended, at all injure the intereſts of the women; they have other pretenſions, on which to value themſelves, and other qualities much better calculated to anſwer their particular purpoſes. We are enamoured of the ſoft ſtrains of the Sicilian and the Mantuan Muſe, while, to the ſweet notes of the paſtoral reed, they ſing the Contentions of the Shepherds, the Bleſſings of Love, or the innocent Delights of rural Life. Has it ever been aſcribed to them as a defect, that their Eclogues do not treat of active ſcenes, of buſy cities, and of waſting war? No: their ſimplicity is their perfection, and they are only blamed when they have too little of it.

On the other hand, the lofty bards who ſtrung their bolder harps to higher meaſures, and ſung the Wrath of Peleus' Son, and Man's firſt Diſobedience, have never been cenſured for want of ſweetneſs and refinement. The ſublime, the nervous, and the maſculine, characteriſe their compoſitions; as the beautiful, the ſoft, and the delicate, mark thoſe of the others. Grandeur, dignity, and force, diſtinguiſh the one ſpecies; eaſe, ſimplicity, and purity, the other. Both ſhine from their native, diſtinct, unborrowed merits, not from thoſe which are foreign, adventitious, and unnatural. Yet thoſe excellencies, which make up the eſſential and conſtituent parts of poetry, they have in common.

Women have generally quicker perceptions; men have juſter ſentiments.—Women conſider how things may be prettily ſaid; men how they may be properly ſaid.—In women, (young ones at leaſt) ſpeaking accompanies, and ſometimes precedes reflection; in men, reflection is the antecedent.—Women ſpeak to ſhine or to pleaſe; men, to convince or confute.—Women admire what is brilliant; men what is ſolid.—Women prefer an extemporaneous ſally of wit, or a ſparkling effuſion of fancy, before the moſt accurate reaſoning, or the moſt laborious inveſtigation of facts. In literary compoſition, women are pleaſed with point, turn, and antitheſis; men with obſervation, and a juſt deduction of effects from their cauſes.—Women are fond of incident, men of argument.—Women admire paſſionately, men approve cautiouſly.—One ſex will think it betrays a want of feeling to be moderate in their applauſe, the other will be afraid of expoſing a want of judgment by being in raptures with any thing.—Men refuſe to give way to the emotions they actually feel, while women ſometimes affect to be tranſported beyond what the occaſion will juſtify.

As a farther confirmation of what has been advanced on the different bent of the underſtanding in the ſexes, it may be obſerved, that we have heard of many female wits, but never of one female logician—of many admirable writers of memoirs, but never of one chronologer.—In the boundleſs and aËrial regions of romance, and in that faſhionable ſpecies of compoſition which ſucceeded it, and which carries a nearer approximation to the manners of the world, the women cannot be excelled: this imaginary ſoil they have a peculiar talent for cultivating, becauſe here,

The merit of this kind of writing conſiſts in the vraiſemblance to real life as to the events themſelves, with a certain elevation in the narrative, which places them, if not above what is natural, yet above what is common. It farther conſiſts in the art of intereſting the tender feelings by a pathetic repreſentation of thoſe minute, endearing, domeſtic circumſtances, which take captive the ſoul before it has time to ſhield itſelf with the armour of reflection. To amuſe, rather than to inſtruct, or to inſtruct indirectly by ſhort inferences, drawn from a long concatenation of circumſtances, is at once the buſineſs of this ſort of compoſition, and one of the characteriſtics of female genius[1].

In ſhort, it appears that the mind in each ſex has ſome natural kind of bias, which conſtitutes a diſtinction of character, and that the happineſs of both depends, in a great meaſure, on the preſervation and obſervance of this diſtinction. For where would be the ſuperior pleaſure and ſatiſfaction reſulting from mixed converſation, if this difference were aboliſhed? If the qualities of both were invariably and exactly the ſame, no benefit or entertainment would ariſe from the tedious and inſipid uniformity of ſuch an intercourſe; whereas conſiderable advantages are reaped from a ſelect ſociety of both ſexes. The rough angles and aſperities of male manners are imperceptibly filed, and gradually worn ſmooth, by the poliſhing of female converſation, and the refining of female taſte; while the ideas of women acquire ſtrength and ſolidity, by their aſſociating with ſenſible, intelligent, and judicious men.

On the whole, (even if fame be the object of purſuit) is it not better to ſucceed as women, than to fail as men? To ſhine, by walking honourably in the road which nature, cuſtom, and education ſeem to have marked out, rather than to counteract them all, by moving awkwardly in a path diametrically oppoſite? To be good originals, rather than bad imitators? In a word, to be excellent women, rather than indifferent men?