All Our Talents Increase In

Our Children, Edward, Agnes, And Little Mary, Promise Well; Their Education, For The Time Being, Is Chiefly Committed To Me; And They Shall Want No Good Thing That A Mother's Care Can Give. Our Modest Income Is Amply Sufficient For Our Requirements; And By Practising The Economy We Learnt In Harder Times, And Never Attempting To Imitate Our Richer Neighbours, We Manage Not Only To Enjoy Comfort And Contentment Ourselves, But To Have Every Year Something To Lay By For Our Children, And Something To Give To Those Who Need It. And Now I Think I Have Said Sufficient.

[preface To Second Edition:] ... I Am Satisfied That If A Book Is A Good One, It Is So Whatever The Sex Of The Author May Be.

This Paper Will Serve Instead Of A Confidential Friend Into Whose Ear I Might Pour Forth The Overflowings Of My Heart. It Will Not Sympathize With My Distresses, But Then, It Will Not Laugh At Them, And, If I Keep It Close, It Cannot Tell Again; So It Is, Perhaps, The Best Friend I Could Have For The Purpose.

All True Histories Contain Instruction; Though, In Some, The Treasure May Be Hard To Find, And When Found, So Trivial In Quantity, That The Dry, Shriveled Kernel Scarcely Compensates For The Trouble Of Cracking The Nut.

If You Would Have A Boy To Despise His Mother, Let Her Keep Him At Home, And Spend Her Life In Petting Him Up, And Slaving To Indulge His Follies And Caprices.