that a well educated girl had not time to be in love. Is it poſſible to have much reſpect for a ſyſtem of education that thus inſults reaſon and nature?
Many ſimilar opinions occur in her writings, mixed with ſentiments that do honour to her head and heart. Yet ſo much ſuperſtition is mixed with her religion, and ſo much worldly wiſdom with her morality, that I ſhould not let a young perſon read her works, unleſs I could afterwards converſe on the ſubjects, and point out the contradictions.
Mrs. Chapone's Letters are written with ſuch good ſenſe, and unaffected humility, and contain ſo many uſeful obſervations, that I only mention them to pay the worthy writer this tribute of reſpect. I cannot, it is true, always coincide in opinion with her; but I always reſpect her.
The very word reſpect brings Mrs. Macaulay to my remembrance. The woman of the greateſt abilities, undoubtedly, that this country has ever produced.—And yet this woman has been ſuffered to die without ſufficient reſpect being paid to her memory.
Poſterity, however, will be more juſt; and remember that Catharine Macaulay was an example of intellectual acquirements ſuppoſed to be incompatible with the weakneſs of her ſex. In her ſtyle of writing, indeed, no ſex appears, for it is like the ſenſe it conveys, ſtrong and clear.
I will not call her's a maſculine underſtanding, becauſe I admit not of ſuch an arrogant aſſumption of reaſon; but I contend that it was a ſound one, and that her judgment, the matured fruit of
