to condemn to perpetual oblivion; hazard, think by sallies, and distill an ingenious writer, for want of course by rote." A heavy charge something better to employ his pen this, to be laid against the majority of about, was pleased lately to revive women. But granting it, for argu them in one of the weekly papers, ment's sake, to be literally true, is it lest this age should be ignorant what not as undeniably true, that the very fools there have been among his sex same charge may be equally retorted in former ones. on the majority of men? And yet would they not triumphantly alledge it as a proof of our weak sense, were we wisely to conclude, in their way, that therefore all the men ought to be perpetually under guardianship to us? A little experience is sufficient to demonstrate how much fitter we are to be guardians over them, than they are to be such over us. Every young maiden is qualified to be the mistress and manager of a family, at an age when the men are scarce susceptible of the precepts of a master. And the only sure expedient to reclaim a young fellow from his excesses and render him useful to society, is to give him for guardian a wife, who may reform him by her example, moderate his passions by her pru dence, and win him from his debaucheries by her engaging behaviour.

To give us a sample then of the wisdom of his sex, he tells us, that it was always the opinion of the wisest among them, that women are never to be indulged the sweets of liberty; but ought to pass their whole lives in a state of subordination to the men, and in an absolute dependance upon them. And the reason assigned for so extravagant an assertion, is our not having a sufficient capacity, to govern ourselves. It must be observed, that so bold a tenet ought to have better proofs to support it than the bare word of the persons who advance it; as their being parties so immediately concerned, must render all they say, of this kind highly suspect. How ever, since we are as suspect on that account as they are, it must be to as little purpose for us to deny; unless it be to put them upon the proof. And doubtless, creatures of such profound wisdom as these men are, if we take their own word, would never attempt to assert any thing so positively, without being able to back it with the best of proofs. Let us see then upon what grounds they build these extravagant notions of our sex, and how far they will stand the test of truth and reason; that we may give into their opinion or reject it.

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So far then are the men from proving their principle by practice, where their interest is concerned, that, when their own profound wisdom is too weak to curb the more unruly among them, they have no other recourse than to shelter them under our tutelage: thus contradicting in fact, what they advance in words. But is it not the fear of making us too proud of ourselves, which makes them contend, that we have neither solidity or constancy, much less that depth of judgment which they very humbly ascribe to themselves? conclude, that it must absolutely have Wherefore else do they so wisely been a joint effect of divine providence and their own sovereign sense, which debarred us of sciences, government, and public offices?

Whether there be any solidity in this, will best appear upon an unprejudiced examination. To know then, whether the women are less capable of the sciences than the men

or not, we must consider what is the principle by which sciences are attained; and if that be wanting in women, or less perfect, there will be

no more required to demonstrate that the men are in the right. But if that principle should appear to be as perfect in the one as it is in the other, then there will be great reason to suspect the men of jealousy; and it cannot be rash to say, that their only reason for locking up from us all the avenues to knowledge, is the fear of our excelling them in it.

It is a known truth, that the difference of sexes regards only the body, and that merely as it relates to the propagation of human nature. But the soul, concurring to it only by consent, actuates all after the same manner; so that in this there is no sex at all. There is no more difference to be discerned between the souls of a dunce, and a man of wit, or of an illiterate person and an experienced one, than between a boy of four and a man of forty years of age. And since there is not at most any greater difference between the souls of women and men, there can be no real diversity contracted from the body all the diversity then must come from education, exercise, and the impressions of those external objects which surround us in different circumstances.

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The same creator, by the same laws, unites the souls of women and men to their respective bodies. The same sentiments, passions, and propensions, cement that union in both. And the soul, operating in the same manner in the one and the other, is capable of the very same functions in both.

ours are more delicate and consequently fitter to answer the ends they were made for, than theirs.

Even among the men it is universally observed, that the more gross and lumpish are commonly stupid; and the more delicate are, on the other hand, ever the most sprightly. The reason is plain: the soul, while confined to the body, is dependent on it's organs in all it's operations; and therefore the more free or clogged those organs are, the more or less must the soul be at liberty to exert itself. Now it is too well known to need any support, that the organs in our sex are of a much finer and more delicate temperature than in theirs; and therefore, had we the same advantages of study allowed us which the men have, there is no room to doubt but we should at least keep pace with them in the sciences and every useful knowledge.

It can only then be a mean dastardly jealousy in them to exclude us from those advantages, in which we have so natural a right to emulate them. Their pretext for so doing, that study and learning would make women proud and vicious, is pitiful, capricious, and of a piece with their practice. No: false knowledge, and superficial learning only cau produce so bad an effect. For true knowledge, and solid learning must, cannot but, make women, as well as men, both more humble, and more virtuous. And it must be owned, that if a little superficial knowledge has rendered soine of our sex vain; it equally renders many of theirs insupportable. But that is no reason why solid learning should be denied, or not instill'd into either; rather ought the greater pains to be taken to improve, in both, every disposition to the sciences, into a true relish for, and a deep knowledge of, them according to the advice of one of their brightest writers, as applicable to any science as to poetry:"

To render this still more evident, we need only consider the texture of the head, the seat of the sciences and the part where the soul exerts itself most. All the researches of anatomy, have not yet been able to shew us the least difference in this part between men and women. Our brain is perfectly like theirs; we receive the impressions of sense as they do; we martial and preserve ideas for imagination and memory as they do, and we have all the organs they have and apply them to the same purposes as they do. We hear with ears, see with eyes, and taste with a tongue as well as they. Nor can there be any It is a common received notion that difference pointed out between any mankind need not be knowing to be of our organs and theirs, but that virtuous: which proceeds from this,

A little learning is a dangerous thing;
Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring:
There shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,
And drinking largely sobers us again.

that we see many persons, who are reputed men of sense, of very immoral characters: and therefore is it falsely concluded, that knowledge is not only unprofitable in itself to virtue, but even frequently destructive to it whereas it would be no arduous task to prove, that the knowledge of ourselves and many other things is highly requisite to corroborate our persuasion of our moral obligations. Since the chief reason which is to be assigned for so many persons falling into vice and folly so precipitately, or practising virtue so faintly, is their being ignorant of themselves, and the objects which strike them and how shall they remove this ignorance but by science and study?

that learning is useless to women, because forsooth they have not a share in public offices, which is the end for which men apply themselves to it. Virtue and felicity are equally requisite in a private, as well as in a public station, and learning is a necessary means to both. It is by that we acquire an exactness of thought, a propriety of speech, and a justness of actions: without that we can never have a right knowledge of ourselves: it is that which enables us to distinguish between right and wrong, true and false and finally, that alone can give us skill to regulate our passions, by teaching us, that true happiness and virtue consist not so much in enlarging our possessions as in contracting our desires.

no share in public offices? Because we have no learning. They are scnsible of the injustice they do us, and are reduced to the mean shift of cloaking it at tire expence of their own reason. But let truth speak for once: why are they so industrious to debar us that learning we have an equal right to with themselves, but for fear of our sharing with, and outshiping them in, those public offices they fill so miserably? The same sordid selfishness which urged them to engross all power and dignity to themselves, prompted them to shut up from us that knowledge which would have made us their competitors.

If then there have been some of our sex so affected with their learning Besides let it be observed, what a as to become assuming; their fault wretched circle this poor way of carries it's excuse with it. Either reasoning among the men draws them they have been such as had not drank insensibly into. Why is learning usedeep enough to learn to be humble: less to us? Because we have no share or the uncommonness of this advan- in public offices. And why have we tage in our sex, and the difficulties they must have surmounted who have attained to it, will apologize for the little vanity they may have shewn. As a person of low rank, whose merit and industry have raised him to an unusual eminence, may be excused, if, seeing himself advanced above the sphere of his equals, he should be seized with some degree of giddiness. Besides that, if it be a fault, as it's wanting an apology proves it to be, it is a fault which the men themselves daily fall into. And yet neither in the men nor in the women ought it to be imputed, as a blemish, to the sciences they may possess. The real cause of it is, that they who are versed in any science look upon themselves as possest of something, which is a mystery to the generality of the world. But let the matter be how it will, it is more than probable, that, since the vanity of the learned men greatly surpasses that of the learned of our sex, as appears from the frothy titles the former arrogate to themselves: if women were admitted to an equal share of the sciences, and the advantages leading to, and flowing from, them; they would be much less subject to the vanity, they are apt to occasion.

It is a very great absurdity, to argue

As nature seems to have designed the men for our drudges, I could easily forgive them the usurpation by which they first took the trouble of public employents off our hands, if their injustice were content with stopping there. But as one abyss calls on another, and vices seldom go single, they are not satisfied with engrossing all authority into their own hands, but are confident enough to assert that they possess it by right. Their reason for this assertion is what I have already hinted, because we were formed by nature to be under perpetual subjection to them, for

want of abilities to share with them in government and public offices. To contute this mannish extravagance, it w be necessary to sap it from the foundation on which it is built. To be continued.]

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SETH. SELIMA. Selima. HOW beautiful is this hap. py day of love! how bright and tranquil. how much more joyous than all the days I yet have lived! Our mother is gone to view her daughter ornamenting my bridal arbor, and to weave some flowers amongst its pliant branches. I have plucked the coolest fruits, I have spread them in the cool ness of the groves, that our brothers and sisters may refresh themselves when they retuin from the arbor. I have spread the blushing grape, and I have covered the most beautiful for Heman with leaves still moistened with the morning dew. O! how great is my happiness! The wise and virtuous Heman has chosen Selima for his bride. By Heman is Selima beloved: and, when the last ray of evening tinges our cot, our relatives will join us with their infant, and Adam will bless us, and lead us, full of paternal joys, to the bridal arbor. But why, my brother, art thou so serious; what means that smile half veiled in grief?

Seth. My Selima, I was pondering on thy future happiness; and, in my joy, a secret grief was mixed,

Selima. Why not impart your grief to me: why not alleviate the weight of it by allowing me to participate in it?

Seth. Can I conceal aught from thee, Selima? Much as it were my wish, I cannot do it. The purity and sincerity of my heart, and the anxious grief in which thou standst confessed before me, constrain me to declare the sorrow which oppresses me. But, Selima, yield not too much to grief: the love I bear our father made me, perhaps, too attentive to the grave and solemn air with which he repaired to Abel's altar, as thou stoodst before the hut, and with thine eyes followed our mother Eve.

Selima. Shall I go to him-shall I clasp his hand, and, with an affectionate look, implore him not to yield to grief? O my brother, my brother, thou hast not yet told me all. Why dost thou weep? Thou tremblest too! ! whatever calamity may have befallen thee, I will share it with thee.

Seth. My Selima, it is not a calamity to me alone, but to us all. Thy affectionate tenderness affects me much; I will no longer withhold from thee the dismal truth. As our father cre Dow passed me, how strange and altered was verend face; a ghastly paleness Wa.. ad over it: scarcely could his feet support bis frame. His eyes were fixed full upon me: yet he seemed as if he saw me not. He repaired to the altar. I heard him pray aloud, but I could not understand his faltering voice: it sounded hollow and half broken: he stop'd, at times, as if struggling for utterance. O! Selima, why hast thou constrained me to tell thee? I heard him faintly pronounce the word of Death But dost thou not hear our father's steps? He comes.

Second Scene.

ADAM. SETH, SELIMA. Adam. Ah! Seth and Selima here? It is a gloomy day, full of terror and of fear: but, Selima, ere long it will be more bright, and the clouds which now lang heavy on me will, on a sud. den, disperse, and joy's full radiance burst upon me. But go to thy mother, Selima, assist her to pluck the flowers which are to deck thy bridal arbor. Inform her that it is at my command,

that thou actest contrary to the custoin of one betrothed.

Selima. I go, my father.

Third Scene.

ADAM. SETH. Adam. How good, how virtuous is Selima: how deeply she felt my command to join her mother. My son O may God bless her! I shall not see her again. She is like Eve, ere the dreadful curse was pronounced. May God bless her! My son, my best of sons, I know how great thy adoration is for the Almighty, how great thy reverence for the God who made thee:thou art a man, my son, to whom I can speak with freedom; thou knowest no fear, but that of doing wrong. Seth, my son, this day is the day of my death!

Seth. My father! Adam! my father! Adam. Deeply my heart was wounded to view thy sufferings: but thou now must hear me. Thrice more terrible was the voice when I, for the first time, heard the tremendous word of death. Among all my children, thou shalt be the only one, who shall see me die: thou alone shalt help me, when this worn-out frame struggles with its last writhings. Not greater was the certainty that I was created, when I stood erect and looked towards

On the day of thy death, Adam, thou
shalt see me again. I now await his
appearance, and great will its terror
be; yet 'twould be thrice terrible did
I not expect it. Raise thine eyes to
Heaven, my son; he who judges me
will assuage the agonies of death: but
I now feel that his great judgment,
which said I shall die the death, is not
yet fulfilled, and that it is of a deeper
import than I at present can compre-
hend. Thou wilt see my torment.-
I fear not death; for, through a long
course of years, I have prepared my-
self for it; but I shall feel its terrors.
Seth. O tell me, father, wiltst thou

Adam. Willingly would I still re-
main amongst you, my children.
Seth. Then stay with us, father;
O! stay!

Adam. Spare me, my son; my soul now feels how strongly it is linked to thine: but he, who pronounced the sentence of death, is worthy of our adoration and our love.

Seth. True, most true, my father; but may not the love thou bearest to thy children have deceived thee, and mayst thou not have regarded that as approaching death, which is merely a strong attack upon thy health, which has now endured for centuries.

Adam. O when the most beloved

of my sons so speaks, how can I an-
swer him?
Death not decide it too quickly! O!
O may the Angel of
may the eyes of my son not view the
terrible being! Yonder is Abel's
altar, my son, yonder it stands, still
sprinkled with the blood of thy bro-
ther: thither repair; raise thy bands
to Heaven. Go, thou mayst perhaps
be heard; perhaps thou mayst pro-
cure one day more to be added to my

Seth. O father! Adam, my father,

Heaven, than is now the certainty that I on this day shall die. I was sitting before my hut, dwelling with delight on the happiness of my children, Heman and Selima, when on a sud den, more sudden than ere the quickest thought was conceived, the shiver of approaching death came over me: it thrilled through all my veins, and ob. jects, which before were clear to me, now are dim and indistinct. My son, my beloved son, thou brother of Abel, I will not complain; in me 'twere au act of guilt. When I felt this approaching death, the thought immediately penetrated to my soul that I, the first-born, should die.-There it hovers round my brow: here it strikes He is goue, and, fervent as his to my heart. And there is another, prayer may be, still it will not be acwhich, on the day of my death, I cepted. What is this feeling which will no more conceal from you, with now oppresses me?Is it Death again which the thought of death is accom- with all its terrors which assail me.panied, and which, in terror, is not As yet I stand above the dust; in a surpassed by it. As I arose, recovered few hours I shall moulder under it, from my stupefaction, an Angel of and if my beloved Eve and my chilDeath stood before me and spoke dren should come and view the last



Fourth Scene.

ADAM. solus).

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