family connections have led them to love; but in mere acquaintance they think it all affectation.
A man of ſenſe can only love ſuch a woman on account of her ſex, and reſpect her, becauſe ſhe is a truſty ſervant. He lets her, to preſerve his own peace, ſcold the ſervants, and go to church in clothes made of the very beſt materials. A man of her own ſize of underſtanding would, probably, not agree ſo well with her; for he might wiſh to encroach on her prerogative, and manage ſome domeſtic concerns himſelf. Yet women, whoſe minds are not enlarged by cultivation, or the natural ſelfiſhneſs of ſenſibility expanded by reflection, are very unfit to manage a family; for, by an undue ſtretch of power, they are always tyrannizing to ſupport a ſuperiority that only reſts on the arbitrary diſtinction of fortune. The evil is ſometimes more ſerious, and domeſtics are deprived of innocent indulgences, and made to work beyond their ſtrength, in order to enable the notable woman to keep a better table, and outſhine her neighbours in finery and parade. If ſhe attend to her children, it is, in general, to dreſs them in a coſtly manner—and, whether this attention ariſes from vanity or fondneſs, it is equally pernicious.
Beſides, how many women of this, deſcription paſs their days; or, at leaſt, their evenings, diſcontentedly. Their huſbands acknowledge that they are good managers, and chaſte wives; but leave home to ſeek for more agreeable, may I be allowed to uſe a ſignificant French word, piquant ſociety; and the patient drudge, who fulfils her taſk, like a blind horſe in a mill, is defrauded of
