The Men-midwives and their friends, have wisely chose to be silent. They are conscious my assertions cannot be denied with any shadow of truth, they therefore prudently have declined the combat. If they had attempted controverting my arguments, they must have discovered the sandy foundations on which they have established the idea of _their being the proper_ attendants on the labours of women. Objections which they cannot remove,—dangers which they cannot dissipate,—and impurities which no varnish can conceal, they wish to avoid mentioning; fearful lest an attempt to answer my letter, should display to the world the weakness and insufficiency of their defence, and stimulate abler pens than mine to continue the subject too long for their interest. They vainly imagine my letter will soon be forgotten, and be consigned to oblivion amongst waste paper. But they are mistaken,—this letter shall accompany it annually to the press, to remind my fair countrywomen of the inestimable value of chastity,—and to warn them from those practices which pave the way to the most flagrant breach of it;—and I am not without hope that I shall be joined by the friends of virtue, and assisted in the arduous talk I have undertaken. What undertaking can be more difficult to succeed in, than an endeavour to reform the manners of a vicious age? Yet, encouraged by the consciousness of the rectitude of my intentions, and of the sincerity of my wishes to repair the foundations of matrimonial happiness, I freely offer my sentiments to the world,—let the candid weigh them in the scale of common-sense,—and either adopt, or disregard them, as they appear to tend to the benefit, or prejudice of mankind. The consequence of their decision will principally affect themselves,—it will not reach to me.