late is felt with crushing force. Why cannot we write "Letters on the Improvement of the Mind," and be held, like Mrs. Chapone, to be an authority on education all the rest of our lives; and have people entreating us, as they entreated her, to undertake, at any cost, the intellectual guidance of their daughters? When we consider all that a modern educator is expected to know—from bird-calls to metric measures—we sigh over the days which demanded nothing more difficult than the polite expression of truisms.
"Our feelings are not given us for our ornament, but to spur us on to right action. Compassion, for instance, is not impressed upon the human heart, only to adorn the fair face with tears, and to give an agreeable languor to the eyes. It is designed to excite our utmost endeavour to relieve the sufferer."
Was it really worth while to say this even in 1775? Is it possible that young ladies were then in danger of thinking that the office of compassion was to "adorn a face with tears"? and did they try to be sorry for the poor and sick, only that their bright eyes might be soft-
