LETTER VIII.

MY DEAR MARY,

I promised at the close of my last letter, to give you the substance of my conversation with Emilia. The subject which then engrossed our thoughts, was of a deeply interesting nature, and drew forth all the eloquence of this accomplished woman. I think I have already remarked to you, the facility and beauty with which she sketches living characters. On the occasion above mentioned, she gave me lively representations of two of her near connexions, whom I shall call Portia and Flavia.

These females were both conspicuously endowed by nature with a rare assemblage of tastes and talents. Their fortunes were sufficient to procure them every advantage afforded by our country, for the improvement of natural talent. Their progress was so exactly similar, that it was impossible for their teachers to assign the palm of superiority to either. Things were in this state when they both returned home, to enter the world, at the age of eighteen, under the most favourable auspices.

66

"I was at the same age myself," said Emilia, "and was invited to spend a month with my two cousins. I perfectly remember the impression made on me by their first appearance. They were both beautiful, graceful, and accomplished. I feasted my eyes on their loveliness, as they flitted about the drawing room together, followed by many an admiring gaze. Portia was blue eyed and fair haired, which gave her an inexpressible softness of air and countenance. Flavia had deep seated, full black eyes, that seemed to kindle beneath a pro

jecting brow. At first, I thought Portia insipid, and turned with preference to the decided expression of Flavia's countenance; but my opinion changed before the first interview was over. The company seemed desirous to hear these two ladies perform on the harp Flavia was applied to with earnest solicitations, by one party. She refused decidedly, saying that it would take two hours to string and tune the harp, and she had not patience to undertake it. I leave that drudgery to Portia,' said she, I'm sure if I say nothing, it will be done to my hand to-morrow." In the course of the evening, Portia approached her sister, and said in a low voice, I have tuned the harp, Flavia, will you go and play for our friends?-you know I am sadly out of practice.' No, no,' said Flavia, I can't play: I hate to be exhibited as a spectacle.' 'But, sister, there are so many of our true friends and relatives present, surely you will not refuse to oblige them?' 'Indeed, but I will!' returned she, 'I know if I begin by playing for every body, I shall have a terrible time of it.' Much more passed, which I will not detail, but in the course of the evening, Portia sat at the harp and played perseveringly. She looked fatigued, but continued to play each tune that was called for. When the company retired, she asked me to accompany her to her mother's apartment. When there, she showed me a terribly inflamed finger, which she proceeded to have dressed with some. suitable application. The reason I pressed Flavia to play,' said she, was, that this finger has been long in such a situation, that I could not play on the harp with it. I am of course much out of practice, and it was not only disagreeable, but painful to me to perform to night.' From this time, I thoroughly understood the tempers of the two sisters, though perhaps it may seem strange to judge so decidedly from such trifling premises. But a

disposition to oblige even in trifles, denotes a disinterested character; and the contrary is a sure token of selfishness. Even in the small particular above mentioned, as straws show how the wind blows, so do the veriest trifles prove faithful indications of the predominant temper of individuals.

"I have often wondered to hear ladies pertinaciously refuse to sing or play for their friends, because they happened to be not in the vein' themselves. It certainly argues very little for the disinterestedness of the individual, who cannot practise self-denial in so small a matter, to give pleasure to a friend or fellow creature. We are all prone to reason from analogy; and for my part, I never hear a young lady resist obstinately the importunities of her friends to play or sing, that I do not imagine her in situations of greater importance; for instance, suppose her solicited to watch beside a sick friend, would she not object to lose her rest for a whole night? or is she requested to give her time to some charitable institution-can she practise the self-denial necessary to sit a day at her dull needle, when she could not sit half an hour at her harp or piano? In short, can she deny herself in matters of importance, when she cannot do it in the smallest particular?

"It may be said, perhaps, that disappointing so slight a wish, cannot be fairly ranked as a proof of disobligingness. I think otherwise myself. When I hear a young lady resist the entreaties of a dozen friends to beguile the time with music, I certainly set her down as a person unused to deny herself for the gratification of others. If she does happen to be out of practice, let her show that this is a fact, by actual experiment. There may be persons present, so little fastidious as to admire her performance even under such disadvantages. At any rate, a real good temper will prompt her to accede

to their importunities. But," said Emilia, "the subsequent lives of these two relations of mine, proved that my prognostics were correct. Portia was uniformly mild, gentle, and obliging. Flavia had a blunt, abrupt manner, that disgusted and alienated her friends. Some persons of the same temper upheld her, and declared that they admired firmness and sincerity. But firmness ought not to degenerate into obstinacy, or sincerity into rudeness. Some people mistake obstinacy for perseverance. They are very different things, surely; as different as virtue and vice. Obstinacy is a persistence in self-will; perseverance is a steady pursuit of abstract good. To hear persons claim merit for persisting in having their own way, when another way would have been better, is ridiculous; but when we see people carrying on an arduous undertaking in defiance of obstacles, because great general good is to result from their success, we give them the praise of perseverance.

"Portia and Flavia both undertook a Sabbath School. It was a new thing, in a very godless neighbourhood, and met with vehement opposition. Portia worked silently against the mass of prejudice which opposed her. She visited the neighbours; bore with their ignorance; distributed tracts; and strove unremittingly to make her way clear. She treated the children so tenderly, and overlooked their incapacity with so much Christian charity, that she soon won the hearts of children and parents. Flavia inveighed loudly and openly against the stupidity and ignorance of people, who had never had any opportunity of being enlightened. She declared that she would persist in the school, just to prove to the wrong-headed neighbours that she was not a person to be borne down by clamour. She persisted in enforcing strict rules, that had been organized for a far different state of society. Portia proposed that they should draw

up rules for themselves, suited to their peculiar circumstances, and draw the people by degrees into the necessary restrictions. Flavia disdained this temporizing policy: she would have all or nothing. After quarrelling with one or two good, plain people, and making herself unpopular with all the neighbourhood, she withdrew from the school, saying that she had kept it long enough to prove her perseverance, and she was convinced that no good could be done to such a set of dolts. Portia continued the school until she left the neighbourhood on her marriage, and is to this day blessed by the rich and poor that she left behind.

"The two sisters carried their distinctive characteristics with them into conjugal life. Portia set such an example of meekness and gentleness to a quick tempered husband, that she succeeded in teaching him to correct his only conspicuous fault. She is now surrounded by a fine family of dutiful, amiable children, whose tempers are modelled by her own. Her husband is one of the most excellent men in society, and they exhibit a beautiful example of conjugal happiness. Flavia makes a a harsh tyrant to a gentle, tame-spirited man, who has submitted to her yoke until he bears it without a murmur. She is dreaded in her neighbourhood as an overbearing person, whose very favours are so ungraciously bestowed, that few care to solicit them. Her features have assumed the expression of her prevailing humour. There is harshness and moroseness in her eye; her brow is covered with premature wrinkles; and deep furrows have taken the place of the plumpness of health in her cheeks. Portia, on the contrary, is still beautiful. She has such an air of placid contentment, that the few ravages which time has made, are unnoticed. I saw her a year ago, surrounded by her family. Time had laid his hand so lightly on her, that I could not realize the belief