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 286 GRIERSON. had received some little instruction from the minister of the parish. She wrote elegantly (says Mrs. P.) both in verse and prose”; but the turn of her mind was chiefly to philosophical or divine subjects; nor was her piety inferior to her learning. The most delightful hours, this lady declares that she had ever passed, were in the society and conversation of this “female philosopher.” My father, adds she, readily consented to accept of Constantia as a pupil, and gave her a general invitation to his table, by which means we were rarely asunder. Whether it was owing to her own design or to the envy of those who survived her, I know not, but of her various and beautiful writings, I have never seen any published, excepting one poem of her’s in the works of Mrs. Barber. Her turn, it is true, was principally to philosophical or religious sub jects, which might not be agreeable to the present taste; yet could her heavenly mind descend from i t s sublimest heights t o the easy and epistolary style, and suit itself t o my then gay disposition. Mrs. Barber likewise gives her testimony t o the merit o f Constantia, o f whom she declares, “ that she was not only happy i n a fine imagination, a great memory, a n excellent understanding, and a n exact judgment, but had a l l these crowned b y virtue and piety. She was too learned t o b e vain, too wise t o b e conceited, and too clear sighted t o b e irreligious. As her learning and abilities raised her above her own sex, s o they left her n o room t o envy any, o n the contrary, her delight was t o see others excel. She was always ready t o direct and advise those who applied t o her, and was herself willing t o b e advised. The following epigram was written b y Mrs. Grierson t o the Hon. Mrs. Percival, with Hutcheson's Treatise o n Beauty and Order:— Th’ internal senses painted here we see, They're born i n others, but they lire i n thee; O ! were our author with thy converse blest, Could he behold the virtues i n thy breast, His needless labours with contempt he’d view, And bid the world not read—but copy you.