rgely to the writer's imagination,
for the effect they produce on the reader?

It is the reading of fiction and impure poetry, more than all things
else, I fear, which leads so many females to sacrifice themselves to
unprincipled and base-hearted men. Instead of consulting these works, as
a guide in marriage, let every one take counsel of her sober judgment.
When "the dreams of youth are fled," and the novel ceases to captivate,
we shall be left in a pitiable condition, if united to a being whom we
could give no good _reason_ for marrying. Fancy alone, much more a mere
whim, is a fearful agent, with whom to entrust our entire happiness for
life.

There are those who accept the hand of another, because enticed by
Flattery. The human heart is never more exposed to the poison of this
insidious foe than in the affairs of love. A lady is beautiful, and she
is praised to excess for her personal attractions. Her vanity is
soothed, and her mind is so darkened, that she sees no bad motive
whatever, and no blemish in the flatterer. "A woman," says one well
versed in our nature, "can always find a palliation for the misdeeds
which are set in motion by her own beauty." How often do we see the
faults of the flatterer, in this way, actually converted into graces.
Or a lady is but moderately well-favored, and is commended on that point
where she felt a distrust of herself. The assurance of her charms rushes
like a tide over her spirit, and she surrenders herself a victim to
blandishments. Or she may be even personally plain. The praise of some
one good feature, will then suffice, perhaps, to subdue her affections.

Is one more cultivated than her sex in general? He, who offers incense
to her intellect, may intoxicate and win. How often does this kind of
adulation succeed, where the commendation of personal attractions would
have failed. But let her, who is subjected to gross and excessive
flattery, ask her own heart, "Do I respect this individual? Has he my
sober esteem? Can I look on his character, and say it is such as to give
promise of happiness to his bosom companion?" These few questions would
often dissolve the spell. If you marry one, such as I describe above, he
may continue through the bridal month this delicious repast, but amid
growing cares, when busy and anxious, you shall soon find that the syren
voice is hushed. It will be you, who must then speak sweet words. To
you, will he turn for those kind attentions, which the