you know that as a female i am particularly attached to her—i feel more than a mother's fondness and anxiety, when i reflect on the dependent and oppressed state of her sex. i dread lest she should be forced to sacrifice her heart to her principles, or principles to her heart. with trembling hand i shall cultivate sensibility, and cherish delicacy of sentiment, lest, whilst i lend fresh blushes to the rose, i sharpen the thorns that will wound the breast i would fain guard—i dread to unfold her mind, lest it should render her unfit for the world she is to inhabit—hapless woman! what a fate is thine!