worthy—no other I fear, will ever bear us out—as Virtue, in it’s comprehensive sense, to those who understand it well must have an effect on the mind very superior to what is Excited by Inferior Principles, and yet, even these, such as Pride, the love of Fame, Wealth, Greatness—a Humour or a Name; will sometimes enable us to forego Ease & Health—and to risque Life & Honor—and can it be so divine a Thing, to Practise Worth, for Glory’s Sake—and not equally so, at least, to Practise it for it’s own—when in fact this same Glory is nothing better than one of it’s under Ministers? there never was a more just saying than that of Virtue being it’s own Reward—and those who understand it’s nature, could not wish a diviner than what springs from the consciousness of it—while they are Inhabitants of Earth, I mean—for as to a future state of Rewards & Punishments—I pretend not to argue about it lest I should be guilty of something blamable, when I only wished to assert the cause of Goodness as preferable to all other known Causes. We can but Reason from what we know—and therefore Silence and Modesty is the proper Shield for Ignorance, in such conflicts as would prove superior to our Strength.—I wonder not at the Praises given to Mrs. Montagues Essay—it has, I am told, all the Advantages of Learning, Sound Criticism, and just Taste.—I am so far a Judge of it’s Merit, as to be confident that it bespeaks Her of a generous Nature, as it seems calculated to rescue Genius—long departed Genius from the illiberal Censures of Witty Malice, now living, and too long triumphant—but my dear James, the circumstance of all others, I most admire in Mrs. Montagues Character—is her avoiding to put her Name to this Performance—this evinces a something very superior, to what is commonly ascribed, even to good Taste—I would rather be an Attendant on her Person, than the first Peeress of the Realm—if, this proceeded from a certain Delicacy and justness of Apprehension, only to be met with in Women of refined sense.—You say my Friend that you wonder I do not employ my leisure Hours in writing something which might reflect Lustre on my Name—and you encourage me to do so, by Praises which are easily accounted for from the partiality you ever have kindly considered my Talents with—I will be very Ingenuous with you on this Subject—There was a time, when I fancied myself capable of doing justice to some Undertaking of the Moral kind, My Taste has been thought judicious, and my language often Complimented as Elegant, this was Yoricks given opinion of it whatever his real one might be.—A little Piece or two I designed some Years ago, and finished lately—are not, perhaps unworthy of the Press, when compared with many Productions which have gained their Authors some degree of Reputation in the literate World—but my dear James, I do not think writing a Poem, a Play, an Essay, or an Anything the Chief Merit of a Woman;—so little do I think