the Parliamentary war and the Protectorate than after the Restoration, when the habits and manners of a profligate court spread their baleful influence far and wide, and dressing and flirtations, visits to the park and new Exchange in the morning, and to the play in the afternoon, seemed a fine lady's whole business. From an incidental remark, we find that even then girls, if educated at all, were taught Latin; for she bids them apply themselves to their grammars, and not to be discouraged in apprehending the first principles of the Latin tongue. She recommends the study, too, of the French and Italian, Signior Terriano, who hath lately published a grammar, being the best teacher of the latter, while Monsieur Mauger, who has also published a French grammar, is an excellent instructor in the latter. Hannah earnestly urges upon parents the importance of giving their daughters a really good education; remarking, in phrase that in its forcible quaintness reminds us of Thomas Fuller, that too many parents, not necessitous, "suffer their children to spin away their precious time, or pore over a sampler untill they have pricked out the very date of their life." In a short enumeration of books for young ladies' reading, we find some rather voluminous works, and some very dry; but Hannah Woolley is not at all of the Gradgrind school, for she boldly declares that it would be really injurious to proscribe fictitious works, and she points out how Cassandra, and Clelia, and the Grand Cyrus, and Parthenissa—those extravagant but fine old French romances—but above all the gorgeous and noble Arcadia of Sir Philip Sidney, are indeed valuable; for there are few ladies therein but are charactered as what they ought to be, while the magnanimity and courage of the men might entitle them to be worthy husbands to the most deserving of the sex.
Fine needlework, and making pretty knick-knacks, are also to engage their attention; and lessons are given in the latter part of the book how to make many pretty ornaments. Among these we may mention the fashionable madness of the day—Poticho-mania, or painting imitations of china upon glass. There is also a very good plan for making worsted flowers, and minute directions how to dress up fire-places for the summer in best rooms. Two hundred years ago the stove, even in the best room, greatly resembled a large fire-basket placed on four legs. This, when summer and cleaning- up time arrived, was carried away, and its place was supplied by large boughs. The ingenuity of Mrs. Hannah Woolley suggested that a kind of grotto might be formed there, by aid of moss and various kinds of shells. She accordingly gives directions how to make a very pretty piece of workmanship; and this became so popular that long after her book was out of print, and when, probably, her name was forgotten, the young ladies, as Spring drew nigh, set about stringing moss, sorting small shells, and making artificial coral with rosin and vermilion for fire-basket ornaments almost down to the time when George the Third was king.
We have next a chapter on general behaviour; and in it young ladies are especially warned against awkward shyness at first entering into company, which, she remarks, they generally make up for afterwards by too great forwardness. In illustration, she tells us how Dr. Heylin having to travel in a coach—this was before the days of flying coaches—with a young lady, was greatly vexed on setting out to find her so reserved and silent, but how ere long he found that when her tongue once began, there was no stopping it, for its continual clicking by the doctor's watch kept exact time for nine hours! Still, ladies are to talk, but they should avoid filling up a narrative with said he and said she; they are also to be particular in giving each person the appropriate title. "In walking, always give your lady companion the right hand. If three walk together, the middle is the most honourable place; if the ladies, at your entrance, do you the civility of rising, never sit down until they are seated." The following anticipates Chesterfield: "If the lady you visit will do you the honour to accompany you out of the room, do not seem to oppose it, for that would imply she understood not what she went about; so receive the attention with thanks."
In her general rules for dress, Hannah Woolley is no Quakeress; indeed, she thinks rich apparel and jewellery very proper, provided too much time is not spent at the toilet. One piece of folly then recently introduced, excites her vehement indignation—this is the fashion of wearing patches. From her remarks, we find that these were not only in the form of diamonds, half-moons, stars—such as our great-grandmothers wore—but were actually of all manner of animals, castles, and even a coach and horses. Indeed, she says, "Such is the vanity and pride of some gentlewomen that they have in a manner abstracted Noah's ark, and expressed a compendium on their foreheads and cheeks: there are birds, beasts, fishes, so that their faces may be termed a landscape of living creatures." This practice, she says, much reminds her of the Indians, who paint animals upon their bodies; indeed, she naively adds, that were any one of these ladies born with half-moons, stars, castles, or coach and horses on their faces, they would give far more money to be freed from them than a seven years' costly expense in following the fashion would amount to.
Subsequently she enters her indignant protest against the practice of tight lacing, urging upon her young readers the dangerous consequences of affecting to be as slender in the middle as the Strand maypole is
