Part 13
Mild as the beams of radiance shine, May piety my powers refine: Pure as the mimic pearls, that spread Their liquid beauties o’er the mead: And like yon rising orb of day, May wisdom guide my dubious way.
_To Miss_ MATILDA FIELDING.
HARMONY-GROVE.
DEAR MATILDA,
I was last week at Boston; and having occasion for a new hat, stepped into a milliner’s shop to inquire the mode. The milliner replied that it was not yet in her power to answer my question. “The spring ships,” said she, “are later than common; but their arrival is hourly expected, when we shall be furnished with memorandum books which will ascertain and determine the fashion for the season.” What she meant by memorandum books, I could not conceive. I had always supposed them blanks, designed for noting whatever occurred without inconvenience. Unwilling, however, to be thought a simple country girl, totally unacquainted with the world, I sought no explanation from her; but repaired to a particular friend for instruction; from whom I learned that the chief value of these same memorandum books consists in their containing imported cuts of ladies’ headdresses, hats and other habiliments, which are always sure to be admired and imitated, as the perfection of taste and propriety.
This discovery mortified me exceedingly. It justified, beyond any thing which I had ever suspected to exist as a fact, what I once heard a European assert, “that Americans had neither character nor opinion of their own.”
With due deference to those better judges, who despise the simplicity of our ancestors, and labor to introduce the corrupt manners and customs of the old world into our country, I cannot but think it extremely ridiculous for an independent nation, which discards all foreign influence, glories in its freedom, and boasts of its genius and taste, servilely to ape exotic fashions, even in articles of dress and fanciful ornaments.
Have not the daughters of Columbia sufficient powers of invention to decorate themselves? Must we depend upon the winds and waves for the form, as well as the materials of our garb? Why may we not follow our own inclination; and not be deemed finical or prudish in our appearance, merely because our habit is not exactly correspondent with the pretty pictures in the memorandum books, last imported.
It is sincerely to be regretted that this subject is viewed in so important a light. It occupies too much of the time, and engrosses too much of the conversation of our sex. For one, I have serious thoughts of declaring independence.
ANNA WILLIAMS.
_To Miss_ CAROLINE LITTLETON.
(_On the Death of her Mother._)
HARMONY-GROVE.
MY DEAR CAROLINE,
To tell you that I am sorry for your loss, or that I sympathize in your affliction, would be but the language you daily hear; and often perhaps, from the unfeeling and indifferent. But you will do me the justice to believe, that I take a particular interest in your concerns, and really share your grief. A holy Providence has wounded you by a stroke, which is extremely painful and severe. Your best friend is shrouded in the grave. In the maternal breast our fondest affections, and most unsuspecting confidence have hitherto concentrated; and who can provide you with an equivalent substitute? To the Almighty Father and Friend of creation, it becomes you to repair for comfort and support.
The dying advice and counsel of your dear mamma, which you inform me, were pathetic, instructive and consolatory, will be a guide to your feet. Often realize the solemn scene, and remember, that, “though dead, she yet speaketh.”
You have great cause of thankfulness, that she was spared to direct you so far through the intricate and dangerous path of youth; to complete your education; to teach you, by her example, how to acquit yourself with usefulness and honor; and above all, to furnish you with that important knowledge, to which every thing else should be made subservient—how to die.
An era of your life has now commenced, which is no less important than affecting. That assisting hand which formerly led you is now cold and lifeless! Those lips, from which you have been accustomed to receive information and advice, are sealed in perpetual silence! And that heart, which always glowed with the warmest solicitude for your happiness has ceased to palpitate.
You must now think and act for yourself. As the eldest daughter, you will be placed at the head of your father’s family. You must, therefore, adopt a plan of conduct, conducive to its harmony, regularity and interest.
Filial duty to your surviving parent, more tenderly inculcated by your participation of his heavy bereavement, will lead you to consult his inclination, and sedulously contribute all in your power to lighten the burden of domestic arrangements devolved upon him. While he laments the death of a prudent, affectionate, and beloved wife, give him reason to rejoice that he is blessed with a daughter, capable of soothing the pains, alleviating the cares, and heightening the enjoyments of his life.
Your brothers and sisters will look up to you as the guide of their tender years. While their weeping eyes and pathetic accents are directed towards you, let kindness, discretion, and patience, characterize your deportment, and engage their confidence and love.
Having mentioned your duty to others, I cannot dismiss the subject without dropping a few hints for your direction, in regard to your personal behaviour.
A very important charge is committed to you, as well in the duties which you owe to yourself, as in the superintendence of your father’s family.
The sovereign disposer of all things has, at an early age, made you, in a measure, your own guardian. Your father’s business calls him much abroad. With you, therefore, he is obliged to entrust, not only his domestic concerns; but, what is still more dear to his heart, the care of your own person and mind; of your own reputation and happiness.
Circumstanced as you are, company has the most powerful charms. Yours is now the prerogative of receiving and returning visits in your own name. At home, you are sole mistress of ceremonies. This is extremely alluring to the sprightly fancy of youth. But time, you will remember, is too important a blessing to be sacrificed to a promiscuous crowd of unimproving companions. Besides, the character of a young lady will necessarily be sullied by the imputation of being constantly engaged in parties of pleasure, and exhilarating amusement. Flattery often avails itself of the unguarded moments of gaiety; and insinuating its insidious charms into the heedless and susceptible mind, inflates it with pride and vanity, and produces an affectation and air of self-importance, which are peculiarly disgusting, because easily distinguished from that true dignity of manners, which results from conscious rectitude. Genuine merit is always modest and unassuming; diffident of itself and respectful to others.
Your father has a right to your unlimited confidence. You will, therefore, make him your chief friend and counsellor. Though he may not possess all the winning softness of a mother, he doubtless has as ardent an affection for you, and as sincere a desire to promote your welfare. Hence you may safely repose your dearest concerns in his paternal breast, and receive, with the utmost deference, his kind instruction and advice. Let his judgment have an entire ascendency over your mind and actions, especially in your intercourse and society with the other sex. Consider him as better acquainted with their merit, circumstances, and views, than you can be; and should you contemplate a connexion for life, let his opinion determine your choice.
Watch over your dear little sisters with all the tenderness of fraternal affection; be their protector and friend; instil into their minds the principles of virtue and religion; arm them against the snares and temptations by which they will be surrounded; and lead them by your own conduct, in the way of truth and peace.
When you have leisure and inclination to write, the effusions of your pen will always be acceptable to your sincere and faithful friend
MARY WILLIAMS
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Added Table of CONTENTS. 2. Silently corrected typographical errors. 3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. 4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Boarding School, by Hannah Webster Foster