well it is only my humility that speaks. I don't
think women have any right to form societies and make laws. All that
honor and glory I am willing to leave to men, and only ask for my sex
the liberty of doing as they please in the humble station assigned to
them by the 'lords of creation.' You may rule the world, and give
orders, and we will--break them."

"Yes," said her uncle, rising to go, "you will break them,
indeed--break all laws of justice, honor and humanity in your giddy
course."

"Nay," said Emma, rising and holding his hands in hers as he was about
to leave the room,

'Put down your hat, don't take your stick,
Now, prithee, uncle, stay.'

I will not let you go thinking me so naughty and saucy. Don't look so
sober, or I shall certainly cry, and you know you hate scenes. I am
really half convinced by your arguments, but were I to sign the
pledge, what good would it do. I have no desire to go about with a
sermon on my lips, and a frown on my brow, to bestow on all the
luckless wights who 'touch, taste or handle.' It is not genteel to
scold, and I fancy they might think me impertinent were I to advise.
Who is there among my acquaintance who would not resent my
interference with their habits in this respect?"

"There is your cousin, Edward," replied her uncle, seating himself
again. "You know well how to lead him in your train through all kinds
of fun and folly, perhaps you might induce him to sign the temperance
pledge."

"But Edward is strictly temperate. He rarely takes even wine."

"True, and I don't think him in danger of becoming less so. But his
position in society gives him great influence over the young men with
whom he associates; and some who follow his example in refusing to
sign the pledge, are unable to follow him in controlling their
appetites."

"There is young Saville, too," said Aunt Mary. "It is whispered among
his friends, that unless something arrests his course, he will ere
long be ruined."

A flush passed over Emma's beautiful face as, in a tone of surprise
and horror, she exclaimed, "What, George Saville! with his genius and
eloquence--is he a slave to that vice?"

"They say," replied her aunt, "that much of his fiery eloquence arises
from the fumes of brandy, and the sparkling wit that makes him so
delightful is caught from the bubbles that dance on the wine-cup. When
the excitement, thus produced, passes away, he is dull and
spiritless."

"And will no one warn hi