engagement to tenderness and affection, were but a privilege for contempt and rudeness. This is in truth provoking; and I am satisfied the generality of those women who have been so unhappy, and so wicked, as to violate the marriage vow, have been provoked to it by the rudeness and neglect of their husbands, or urged to it in revenge of their prior falsehood. It is not, indeed, to be imagined that men should treat their wives with the same reserve and formal complaisance after marriage; that the freedom and ease of friendship forbids; but why friendship and freedom should be a reason for ill treatment, I must own I cannot conceive. I am sure they should be reasons of a very different conduct, and I believe there is not a righter rule in life, or of more importance for the preservation of friendship, never to let familiarity exclude respect. But after all, wives that are so unhappy as to be too much provoked by the ill treatment of their husbands, should always remember that their husbands' guilt doth not justify theirs, and much less will neglect or rudeness in the husband justify infidelity in the wife. There are arts of decency and good behaviour which have inexpressible charms; and if a woman can but have constancy enough to practise these, and to continue in well-doing, they are almost irresistible, and it is scarcely possible to imagine any husband so brutal as not to be at last reclaimed by them. And women would be more solicitous to reclaim their husbands in this manner, by a course of good behaviour, if they considered that in so doing they consulted their own real interest, and the interest of their children, and greatly recommended themselves and their concerns to the favour and protection of Almighty God, and at the same time saved a soul alive. Whereas the contrary behaviour can tend to nothing but the utter ruin of their children, and their own mutual destruction, both of body and soul. And here I cannot but reflect with concern upon the unhappy methods which have obtained in the world in relation to the education of women. One of the first things that takes possession of their minds is the hopes of a husband; but how to become a faithful friend, and an agreeable amiable companion in the married state, are lessons rarely taught, and more rarely learned. Superficial and showy accomplishments are indeed inculcated with sufficient care; but how to acquire solid worth ness. and useful knowledge makes for the most part but a small part of parental solicitude. By this means a woman becomes everything to a husband but what she should be—a social friend and a useful assistant. Forgetting that the interest of all men makes that one essential part of the character of a good wife, laid down by Solomon, that she openeth her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of kindThat is, as she hath acquired habits of prudence and discretion from study and observation, so she hath made it a fixed rule to herself, not to be imperious or presuming upon her knowledge, but rather to make it a reason of constant cheerfulness and good humour, together with a ready, a rational, and an affectionate assistance in every exigency, and on every occasion; in her tongue is the law of kindness. And surely wisdom so seasoned and sweetened is amiable and delightful beyond expression. And therefore this character is crowned by Solomon with that noble encomium, "Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all." That is, many other women may be as virtuous; but virtue thus recommended, virtue that is adorned with all the graces of prudence and good humour, is virtue in its highest and loveliest perfection; thou excellest them all. And again, "Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." That is, the regard that ariseth from colour and complexion is transient and unsteady; beauty is deceitful; a fair face may cover a deformed mind, and is at best a short and uncertain recommendation; but piety and virtue are sure and lasting perfections, which will always entitle the woman that is blessed with them to eternal veneration and esteem. But further, a good wife is in many instances to do yet more than this; she is not only to relieve her husband under his household cares by the goodness of her humour and sprightliness of her conversation, but she is likewise to lighten those cares, by dividing them with him and bearing her part in the burden. And therefore the least that is to be expected from a wife is, that whilst the husband is busied abroad, or in affairs that call off his attention from the care of his family, that care be supplied by her, and this constitutes the true character of a good wife, at least that part of it which is of principal and most universal use in life. The care and good economy of a family is a business of a very distinct nature from that of making a provision for the support of it. the violation or neglect of this duty. And first, let me ask the thoughtless spendthrift once again, what can be the consequence of his running in debt with all the world but utter ruin, both to himself and others? If the persons you deal with are honest and indigent, how can you answer it to your humanity to bring misery and destruction upon the most pitiable and the most deserving part of the creation? to destroy those by your extravagance which even cruelty and tyranny would be tender of? What is most provoking, and indeed insufferable upon this head, is, that those who allow themselves in this conduct often pass upon the world under the character of good-natured men, and you shall often hear it said of such a one, that he is nobody's enemy but his own. But the real truth is, that every vicious man, whatever he may be in his intentions, is in effect an enemy to the society he lives in, and more particularly a vicious good-nature is one of the cruelest characters in life. It is kind only where it ought not; it is kind to every vice and every villany; it is indulgent to everything but honesty and innocence, and those it is sure to sacrifice wherever it comes. The care of providing for a family for the ❘ and degrees of men that allow themselves in most part resteth upon the husband, because that is a business of more labour and fatigue than women are ordinarily able to undergo; but then the administration of what is so provided is the woman's province. Thus is the labour of life divided; and if either fail in their proper business, the affairs of the family are in a ruinous way, and upon this is founded that known observation, That a man must ask his wife whether he shall be rich, forasmuch as few men are able to take sufficient care both abroad and at home, and foreign care will be of small use if the domestic be neglected. And therefore it is that Solomon, in the character of a good wife, tells us that the heart of her husband shall safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. That is, she will manage his household affairs with so much prudence and fidelity, that her husband shall need no indirect methods of fraud or oppression to support her luxury or extravagance. Again he tells us that she looketh well to the ways of her own household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Indeed he adds many other circumstances of great industry, such as her rising up by night and plying the spindle and distaff, and providing clothes for her husband and family; but these being circumstances of industry peculiar to a country life, and better adapted to the simpler ages of the world, when trades were not suf- | ficiently settled and distributed into their distinct classes, I think them not necessary to be insisted on in this place. THE DUTY OF PAYING DEBTS. In a former discourse upon these words I laid down the duty of paying debts, together with the evils which attend the neglect of it, both as they regard the debtor and as they regard the creditor:-The evils to the debtor of being imposed upon either in the quantity or value of what they take up upon trust, and the great evil of making expense easy, and in consequence of that, ruin insensible and inevitable-to the creditor the delay of payment in due time draws endless inconveniences and evils after it; loss of time, and trade, and credit, and in consequence of these, it may be, inevitable, and, it may be, extensive and complicated ruin. I now proceed to make some application of what has been said, to all orders A good-natured villain will surfeit a sot and gorge a glutton, nay, will glut his horses and his hounds with that food for which the vendors are one day to starve to death in a dungeon; a good-natured monster will be gay in the spoils of widows and orphans. Good-nature separated from virtue is absolutely the worst quality and character in life; at least, if this be good-nature, to feed a dog, and to murder a man. And, therefore, if you have any pretence to good-nature, pay your debts, and in so doing clothe those poor families that are now in rags for your finery, feed him that is starving for the bread you eat, and redeem him from misery that rots in gaol for the dainties on which you fared deliciously every day. And besides the good you will do to others by those acts of honesty, you will do infinite good to yourselves by them. Paying of debts is, next to the grace of God, the best means in the world to deliver you from a thousand temptations to sin and vanity. Pay your debts, and you will not have wherewithal to purchase a costly toy or a pernicious pleasure. Pay your debts, and you will not have wherewithal to feed a number of useless horses or infectious harlots. In one word, pay your debts, and you will of necessity abstain from many fleshly lusts that war against the spirit and bring you into captivity to sin, and | remains of modesty ye would renounce the cannot fail to end in your utter destruction both of soul and body. On the other hand, if the men you deal with and are indebted to are rich and wily, consider they supply your extravagance with no other view but to undo you, as men pour water into a pump to draw more from it. Consider they could not afford to trust you if they did not propose to make excessive gain by you; and if you think at all, think what it is to lose a fortune by folly, to purchase superfluous and pernicious vanities for a short season, at the hazard of wanting necessaries for the tedious remainder of a misspent life. Time, which sweetens all other afflictions, will perpetually sharpen and inflame this; as the gaiety and giddiness of youth go off the wants of age will become more sharp and more inconsolable to the last day of our lives, and severe reflection will double every calamity that befalls you. And therefore the son of Sirach well advises, "Be not made a beggar by banqueting upon borrowing, for thou shalt lie in wait for thy own life." And again the same wise man most excellently observes, "That he that buildeth his house with other men's money is like one that gathereth himself stones for the tomb of his burial;" he erects a sure monument not only of his folly but of his ruin; and the consequence is the same from extravagance of every kind, but with this difference, that the ruin derived from wine and women is the most dreadful of all others, as it involves you at once in the double distress of disease and want. Who amongst you can at once bear the united racks of hunger, and infection, and an evil conscience? And yet this is what you must feel, although it be what you cannot bear; the torments of hell anticipated; to be deprived of every blessing and to be immersed in misery. Thus much for the youthful extravagant. In the next place, let me apply myself to the man of quality that is guilty of this vice, although these are too often the same persons. If ye will not consider what ye owe your creditors and how to pay them, I beseech you calmly to reflect and consider what ye owe to yourselves, to your family, to your country, to your king. Was it for this that ye were distinguished above others of the same rank, only to be more eminent in infamy? Was nobility bestowed upon your ancestors as a reward of virtue, and do ye use it only as a privilege for vice? Is superior worth degenerated into superior villany? If ye had any titles and the fortunes of your ancestors with the virtues that attained them. Ye would blush to take place of a beggar that had virtue. Will ye yet pretend to be better men than others, when ye have renounced your humanity, when ye are no longer men but monsters? It is not expected of you that you should perform acts of heroism and generosity, that you should reward virtue, and support merit in distress. Alas! these expectations are long since vanished, and seem only the boasts of fabulous antiquity. But methinks it might still be expected of you that you should do common justice, that you should not be worse than the rest of mankind, because you think yourselves better at least, expect to be called so and treated as such. Surely it might still be expected of you that you should pay your debts and keep your promises; and, in truth, ye would not be void either of dignity or of dependants if ye did even this. Mankind are already too much prejudiced in your favour, and would not fail to pay you sufficient regard and reverence, even if you did them no good, provided you did them no mischief. But if ye expect to be esteemed, not only without generosity but even without justice, ye are indeed unreasonable, and will be sure to be disappointed. In the next place, let me apply myself to the wealthy and covetous; these are of all others the most inexcusable in not paying their debts; men that have made or improved their own fortune by industry are utterly unpardonable in oppressing the industry of others; the least that might be expected from increase of wealth is to do justice with our abundance. This was the express direction of the prophet Elisha, when he had miraculously increased the widow's oil; he commanded her first to pay her debts out of her abundance. "Go," saith he, "sell the oil, and pay thy debt, and live thou and thy children of the rest." And the reason of this is evident: the money we owe is not ours; it is the property of other men in our keeping, and we have no more right to it than we have to the money in their pockets; and although we should make no return to God for his blessings upon our industry, in alms and acts of goodness, surely the least we can do is to do justice to men. What a dreadful reflection is it to turn the blessings of Providence into a curse to ourselves, and all we have to deal with! Men of this character are in the condition of those malignant insects who fret and make sores wherever they come, and then feed upon them; they thrive upon the miseries of mankind, which is absolutely the most detestable character upon earth! and is, next to that of a fiend, the very worst and vilest that can be imagined. "Woe unto him," saith the prophet Jeremiah, "that buildeth his house by unrighteousness, and his chambers by wrong!" "Woe unto them," saith Isaiah," that join house to house, that lay field to field, till there be no place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth!" living in that character of cruelty which is best suited to a beast of prey that scatters ruin and desolation all around him. One would think the apostle's precepts were reversed to these men, and that they thought themselves bound in conscience to owe every man everything in the world but love and good-will. And after all, to what purpose is all this oppression and iniquity of avarice? to heap up ill-got riches for a curse upon themselves and their posterity, and leave a memory and a carcass equally odious and offensive behind them. "They are exalted for a little while," as it is finely expressed in the twenty-fourth chapter of Job. "They are exalted for a little while, but are gone and brought low; they are taken out of the way as all other, and cut off as the tops of the ears of corn." They are permitted by the divine providence to fill up at once the measure of their wealth and their iniquity, and as soon as ever they are ripe for ruin, they are cut off in the fulness of their pride and fortune; and the wealth they have hoarded is like the full ear of corn, which, instead of being gathered into the barn, is trampled under foot and scattered over the face of the earth, and so becomes a prey to rocks and swine and vermin. In the last place, let me apply myself to traders themselves, and desire them to reflect how they pay their own debts; I am afraid some of them very badly. I have heard of a most wicked practice amongst them of paying their journeymen and underlings in goods; I call this wicked, because, if those goods are rated at the shop price, the journeyman is plainly defrauded, since he hath no allowance for the time and trouble he must take, and the hazard he must run in vending those goods. And whereas he had a right to ready money for his labour, his necessities now oblige him to sell those goods at any price he can get, to the discredit of trade in general, and the real injury of that very person who laid him under a necessity of so doing, who must of necessity suffer by having his goods sold at VOL. I. an under rate. So that this practice is as illjudged in the shopkeeper, and as weak with regard to his own interest, as it is wicked with regard to his poor underling; and indeed all bad payment to those they have to deal with, especially the poorer sort, is manifestly injurious to men in business; for the clamour of bad pay, and the discredit that necessarily attends it, generally speaking, begins there, and therefore Solomon's precepts ought always to be strictly observed by them of all mankind-"Withhold not good from them to whom it is due, when it is in the power of thine hand to do it. Say not unto thy neighbour, Go and come again, and to-morrow I will give, when thou hast it by thee." Although the men you deal with do not know your wants, nor consider your labour and loss of time in seeking your due, and are consequently regardless of you and your necessities, yet you well know the wants of the poor people you deal with, and the injury you do them in making them lose their time in attending upon you; and therefore you are utterly inexcusable in not relieving them from those hardships, when you can do so barely by doing justice. How can you expect a blessing from God upon your own endeavours when you are guilty of so much cruelty and injustice to others? when you are guilty of so much injustice to the very men by whose labour ye are supported? "A poor man that oppresseth the poor (saith Solomon) is like a sweeping rain, which leaveth no food." Nature hath formed us to compassionate the calamities we endure, and therefore a poor man should as naturally expect aid and consolation from his brethren in the same condition, as the parched and impoverished earth expects relief from the showers of heaven. Consequently, when, instead of being aided, he is oppressed by his brethren, and the little remains of his substance are torn from him; he is then in the condition of the earth, ravaged and ruined by the very means appointed by providence to refresh and make it fruitful, and all its seed, all the means and hopes of a future harvest, swept away with its best mould. A poor man that oppresseth the poor is the cruelest monster in nature; and it is the just judgment of Almighty God, that with what measure you mete it should be measured unto you again. "He that doth wrong," saith the apostle, "shall receive for the wrong which he hath done;" as he hath done it shall be done unto him; his reward shall return upon his own head. 17 [Frances Sheridan, originally Frances Cham- | Dyce's Specimens of British Poetesses. berlayne, was born in the year 1724. Her father was Dr. Philip Chamberlayne, a celebrated and eccentric wit and dignitary of the Irish Church. Among his many rules for the good conduct of life was one which forbade his daughters to learn to write, as such a knowledge could only lead, he declared, to the multiplication of love-letters." However, the result was as might be expected, for his daughter Frances not only learned that accomplishment, but also became a good Latin and Greek scholar. moir of her life and writings has been written by her grand-daughter Mrs. Lefanu. There can be little doubt that her son Richard Brinsley Sheridan inherited from her a large portion of his wonderful genius.] Soon after passing out of her teens she produced her first work, a novel entitled Eugenia and Adelaide, said to be afterwards adapted to the stage by her daughter, and acted with success. She next tried her hand at sermonwriting, and published a couple out of the many that she produced in MS. This, however, was too slow-going work for her sharp intellect and vivid imagination, and when Thomas Sheridan, manager of the Theatre Royal, was in one of his troubles, she boldly adopted his cause and wrote a pamphlet in his defence. The work was not only clever but well-timed, and necessarily attracted the attention of Mr. Sheridan, who tried if possible to discover the author. This after a time he accomplished only by accident, and a friendship springing up between them, a marriage ensued. After her marriage Mrs. Sheridan devoted herself chiefly to her pen; but, on account of ill health, the results of her labours were fewer than the world would wish. After lingering for years in a weak state, she died at Blois in the south of France, in the year 1766–7. Mrs. Sheridan's principal works are Memoirs of Miss Sidney Biddulph, extracted from her own Journal, which "may be ranked with the first productions of that class in ours, or in any other language;" Nourjahad, a romance full of imaginative and picturesque writing; The Discovery, a comedy considered by Garrick, who played in it, to be one of the best plays he had ever read; The Dupe, another clever comedy; and The Trip to Bath, a play never acted nor published, but supposed to have been utilized by her son in his comedy The Rivals. In addition she wrote a considerable amount of verse, some of which is yet to be found in ODE TO PATIENCE. Unaw'd by threats, unmov'd by force, Say, you who search with curious eyes Thy threatened flight to stay; Through all the various turns of fate, My wayward lot has known, 'Twas Patience-Temperate goddess, stay! Nor yield to passion's power; When, robb'd of what I held most dear, 'Twas Patience-goddess ever calm! When, sick and languishing in bed, |