them to all the pleasures of intellect; and that it should be a woman's first object, as a human being, to cultivate her understanding. I never could read, with patience, the infolent obfervation of the Spectator, that "all that a woman has to do in this world, is contained within the duties of a daughter, a fifter, a wife, and a mother." If thefe lords of the creation would give us fair play, we would foon convince them, that we are capable of rivalling them in any thing, except bodily ftrength; and I know no better object of ambition, than to rival them in knowledge.

Sophia. What! not that of fubduing the tyrants, and bringing them as flaves to your feet? Your's, my dear Eliza, must be a ftrange unnatural fyftem, that would teach you to find more pleasure in refuting an argument, than in conquering a heart.

Margaretta. A truce, Sophia, with your raillery! and for once, if you can, be ferious.

Sophia. I proteft, my dear aunt, I never was more ferious in all my life. I know not what should make one ferious, if not an attempt to rob us young women of the pleasure of flirtation. Now do, my beloved coz, tell me honeftly-none of the male creatures are by does it not go a little against the grain, even with your wife gravity, to fhut yourself up with your Lockes and your Newtons, and to be "commercing with the kies," when you might be footing it on the floor of a public room, among a crowd of admirers? Or can you in your confcience fay, that you had rather hold a learned converfation with philofopers of no fex, on liberty and neceffity, or on the origin of evil, than enjoy the delight of a little rattle about nothing with the fellows in a fide-box.

Eliza. As to the dear delight you talk of, Sophia, I must tell you

honeftly, that philofophy has already made me too wife, or if you like it better, too ftupid, to relish it. I could never perfuade my felf that nonfenfe, in falling from the lips of a pretty fellow, was converted into fenfe. Nor have I ever felt what, I own, my reafon inftructs me to call the culpable vanity of making nu merous conquefts. Of the con

queft of one worthy heart, no woman needs be afhamed: but a coquet, with a train of danglers, has always appeared to me a defpicable, feeble character.

Sophia. Your wifdom, my dear, makes you, methinks, a little too fevere. If I am to fpeak plainly in my turn, I muft fay, I have no patience with that freezing philofophy, which would nip every pleasure in the bud, and convert every melting heart into ftone. I am afraid, Eliza, your fyftem, in banishing that lively nonfenfe, that drops from the lips without the trouble of thinking, would convert our gay circles into filent meetings. If I were to grow fo very wife, as I am fure your philofophy would make me, I am perfuaded I should lofe more than half my charms.

Eliza. Still, Sophia, harping up. on the fame ftring! How happy fhould I think myfelf, my dear girl, could I teach you at least fo much philofophy, as to convince you, that a woman has higher objects to pur fue, than to gratify her own vanity, or to please the men. By devoting themselves to these objects, and by entertaining the filly notion that their weakneffes and defects render them amiable, women have hitherto kept themselves in a state of inferi. ority, for which nature never defigned them. It has never yet been proved, that woman's understanding, like her ftature, is lower than that of the men. I do not know whether it might not be proved, that woman has more mind `than man. If

comprehend you.

Eliz. Very likely, Sophia; thefe fpeculations are at first a little abftrufe: but I beg pardon for troubling you with a theory, which was not neceffary to my argument. Without any metaphyfical inveftigation, we have a right to conclude, from the brilliant examples of women eminent for genius, learning, and philofophy, which the hiftory of our fex affords, that if we enjoyed equal advantages with the men, we fhould be at leaft capable of equal attainments. If, in the depreffed ftate in which female intellect has hitherto been kept, the ancient world had its Afpafias, Cornelias, and Hypatias; and modern times can boaft of their Carters and Macaulays, their Barbaulds and Wollstonecrafts; what may not be expected in a new order of things, in which rational beings, of both fexes, fhall meet together, to profecute, without any frivolous interruptions, or childish reftraints, the noble object of intellectual im provement? Your good fenfe, Sophia, muft, I am fure, convince you, that converfation, conducted upon this rational plan, would be far preferable to the idle chat you every day hear, upon fashionable drefs, public amufements, and domeftic anecdotes.

Sophia. Converfation goes on very pleafantly, as it is managed at prefent.

Eliza. Would it not be as well, if it were allo a little improving? Befides, Sophia, how can a young woman better employ her leifure Ed. Mag. May 1796.

hours, of which the commonly has, or may have, abundance, than in calling forth the energies of her mind, and exercising her reafon on fubjects interefting to every human being? Is the ftudy of natural history, and natural philofophy, of civil hiftory, or of the principles of policy, mol rals, and religion, an employment at all inconfiftent with the female character? Would a woman be the lefs qualified for difcharging the duties of a wife, or mother, because fhe understands the nature and ra tional grounds of thefe duties? Would he be the lefs capable of educating her children properly, becaufe fhe is acquainted with many of the fubjects in which they are to be inftructed? Or would he be the lefs agreeable companion, either in domeftic retirement, or in the larger circles of friendly fociety, for poffeffing a flock of well-arranged ideas and knowing how to communicate them with advantage? If perfonal charms are to be brought into the queftion, is the woman the lefs loves ly for having her countenance ani mated with intelligence? Believe me, Sophia, philofophy is no enemy to the graces; and a cultivated mind may dwell in a charming form.

Sophia. Well now, Eliza, if I could be quite affured of that, I almost think your fine fpeech would convert me to your fyftem. But-noit cannot be; at leaft, at prefent. I am certain, I am not grave enough for a philofopher; my dear coz,

fo

"Hail to pleafure's frolic train ! "Hail to fancy's golden reign; "Feftive mirth, and laughter wild, "Free and fportive as the child ; "Hope, with eager fparkling eyes, "And eafy faith, and fond furprife! "Let thefe, in fairy colours dreft, "For ever fhare my careless breaft: "Then, though wife I may not be, "The wife themfelves fhall envy me

Margaretta. Charming lines, So : phia !

phia and smartly introduced. But if you meant them in refutation of Eliza's arguments in favour of female philofophy, you shot a little wide of the mark. The elegant writer,whofe lines you have quoted, is herfelf a philofopher, and I am fure never meant to difcourage, in either fex, the pursuit of wisdom. You appear to me, my dear niece, through this whole converfation, to have treated the fubject with too much levity. You, I am fure, wish to be an accomplished woman; and, allow me to fay, no woman can be fo without knowledge. Eliza's fentiments on the fubject are, I am convinced, in the main, right. I have feen, in my time, a very happy change taking place in the female world, in confequence of the increafing attention which has been paid to interior, as well as exterior, accomplishments, in the education of young women. In this business, there yet remains, it is true, much room for correction and improvement. But knowledge is certainly more valued, and more pains are taken to diffuse it, than formerly, Young women, in the prefent age, ought to know and value the peculiar advantage with which, in this refpect, they enter into life. Instead of confidering fcience, either with fuperftitious reverence, as above their reach, or with ignorant contempt, as beneath their notice, they fhould purfue it with ardour, as the foundation of the most useful and ornamental attainments. But, I ought to afk pardon for thus unneceffarily trying your patience,

Eliza. Your good leffons, kind aunt, are always welcome! It is, I am fure, our united request, that you would go on to explain to us how far you think scientific purfuits are fuited to the female character.

Margaretta. I certainly would not advise a young woman to aim at univerfal knowledge: I should, perhaps, advife, ordinarily, a narrower field

of learning, than would fatisfy the inquifitive mind of Eliza. With fuitable opportunities and advantages, I fee no reason why minds of a particular caft, among women as well as men, may not contribute effentially to the advancement of knowledge. But it feems, in common, moft eligible, that the objects of study fhould be regulated by utility.Thofe ftudies which are adapted to fit a woman for acting her part well in her perfonal, domestic, and focial capacity, and to qualify her for converfation in the circles in which she is likely to be thrown, appear to have the first claim to her attention. In a plan of female ftudy, I should comprehend, what Eliza has entirely overlooked, pursuits properly literary. The formation of a tafte for polite literature conftitutes, in my judgment, an effential part of female education. When a peculiarly fa vourable opportunity offers for acquiring claffical learning, to fuch a degree of perfection as to enable the fcholar to read the writings of the ancients with facility, it is not to be neglected. But without a learned education, it is poffible for young women to acquire a very correct taste in polite literature, and the fine arts: and the elegant purfuits of taste, I own, I confider as peculiarly fuited to the female character. They furnifh an endless variety of amufement; and they have a happy tendency to cherish that delicate fenfibility, which, how fashionable foever it may be to defpife it, muft always form an effential part of female excellence. Without intending the flightest infinuation to the difadvantage of my fcientific niece, I must remark to you the natural tendency which philofophical pursuits have to damp the ardour of affection. Women do not always become more amiable exactly in proportion as they improve in know. ledge. This I do not impute to philofophy; for I conceive its genuine

effe&

this valuable art: by this, we shall enlarge and establish the knowledge of the farmer, and teach him to employ the increafing light of general fcience, for conducting him to higher attainments in his own particular branch.

In confequence of the affiftance which has already been derived from other sciences, the intelligent farmer is now preferved in fome parts of his procefs, from acting fo much at random, as in former times; the truth of this may be fhewn, from the manner in which lime has been used as a manure. It was long employed by the farmer, before philofophy could give any fatisfactory account of its operation; it had often been obferv. ed to be useful, and frequently it was found to injure the land. The farmer endeavoured to acquire a knowledge of its utility, by repeated and extenfive obfervations; but in attempting to enumerate the feveral kinds of foil for which it was fervice able, he was in danger of error and confufion, in fpecifying the almoft endless variety. When Sir J. Pringle, by his experiments on septic fubftances, afcertained, that lime ftrongly promoted the putrefaction of thofe kinds of matter that were fubject to this procefs, philofophy foon carried the fact to the farmer, and taught him to account for one of the effects of lime in his fields. Philofophy has not yet explained how the vegetables grow; but it points out to him the. fact, that corrupting vegetable and animal fubftances are highly ufeful to vegetation, and informs him that the fields, whofe foil contains many uncorrupted vegetable fubftances, will be profited by lime that in thofe fields where, from the nature of the foil, or heat of the climate, the putrefaction goes on with fufficient rapidity of itfelf, lime, and other feptic fubftances, are unneceffary; but, where this is not the cafe, they will be highly advantageous.

Though the phyfiology of vege tables has fo lately begun to be itudied by Girtanner and others, we already know fo much of it, as will, perhaps, enable us now to proceed much further, in explaining the action of lime as a manure. There is reafon to believe, that a number of thofe ftimuli which affect the living animal fibre, and excite it to action, produce a fimilar effect on the fibres of vegetables; as light, heat, electricity, &c. Now, as lime is a stimilus to the animal fyftem, we may prefume, that it also excites vegetables; and, when this excitement is moderate, increases the action of the fibres. The farmer already knows, from experience, that when lime is laid on fome kinds of grafs land, it increases vegetation: but when he is taught that he acts by ftimulating the vegetables, he is difpofed to confider what fpecies of foil requires this ftimulus to affift vegetation, and is guarded against the application of it, where the other ftimuli already act with fufficient force. We may, perhaps, advance a step farther, and upon thefe principles, explain the effects of lime upon a fpecies of foil, which contains only a fmall mixture of vegetable mould, or of undecayed fibres. The foil, to which we refer, is a ftrong ftiff clay, on which the effect of lime has always been more advantageous than could be accounted for by its feptic power.This kind of foil is remarkably unfavourable to the fpeedy corruption of the dead vegetables which it contains, and, therefore, lime becomes peculiarly neceffary to forward their putrefaction; but befides this, all clay contains a very confiderable quantity of alum, which is known to act as an aftringent and fedative on living animals. If it produce fimilar effects upon vegetables, it must be hurtful in this climate, where the ftimuli to vegetation are, in general, lower than what is required to the

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