sesses not in herself sufficient perception to know, that in consequence of her beauty she is made to occupy a false position in society, from which she will assuredly have to descend, it becomes the duty of all who have her happiness at heart, to warn her, that in her intercourse with the world, she must not look for a sincere and disinterested friend in man.
I am far from asserting that there are not instances of noble and generous-hearted men, who know how to be the friend of woman, and the protector of her true interests; yet, such is the general tone of social intercourse, that these instances are lamentably rare.
The most objectionable part, however, of what I would call the minor morals of social life, as regards the subject of female beauty, has not yet been alluded to. Man is sincere in one sense, in his admiration of real beauty while it lasts; and if when the ruling star begins to wane, he suns himself in the rays of another luminary, he is still faithful to beauty as the object of his worship, though the supposed divinity may be invested in a different shrine. If, then, his professions of admiration were offered only to the really beautiful, scarcely one woman in a hundred would be injured by the personal flattery of man. But, unfortunately, that large proportion of the female sex, who are not exactly pretty, nor altogether plain, are exposed to the same system of flattery, for charms which they really do not possess. I have often wondered whether there ever was a woman so destitute of personal attractions, that no man, at some time or other of her life, had ever told her she was beautiful; and it is a well-known fact, that the more we doubt our possession of any particular attraction, the more agreeable is every assurance from others that such attraction does exist.
Thus there is an endless train of mischief let in upon
