Readers, you have been introduced to MILCAH MARTHA MOORE as the author of a commonplace book into which she transcribed poems and letters by women she admired, a book which circulated among her friends. After the Revolution, Moore, who was a Quaker, published a book that became one of the most popular collections of readings for use in schools, entitled Miscellanies, Moral and Instructive. She included in the Preface Benjamin Franklin’s comment: “A BOOK containing so many well chosen sentiments, and excellent instructions, put into the hands of our children, cannot but be highly useful to the rising generation.” Moore established a school for indigent girls in Montgomery County and taught there until her death in 1829. She left an endowment to the school. Following are a few excerpts from the book.
BEAUTY is a short-lived flower, which is easily withered. A cultivated mind is a treasure which increases every moment; it is a rich soil, which brings forth a hundred fold.
THAT little incendiary, called the tongue, is more venomous than a poisoned arrow; and more killing than a two-edged sword.
THE use of learning is not to procure popular applause, or excite vain admiration; but to make the possessor more virtuous and useful to society, and his virtue a more conspicuous example to those that are illiterate.
WHO is wise? He that learns from every one. Who is powerful? He that governs his passions. Who is rich? He that is content.
WE often overlook the blessings which are in our possession, to hunt after those which are out of our reach.
Perhaps if I had high Health, Scenes of Pleasure & Disipation might have taken so far Possession of me as to make me regret leaving a Country, where Pleasure in every Shape offers herself, yet not without Alloy, for there are many little Incidents, necessary to make even what appears to be Joy, really so, & I am convinced many an Hour of insipid Langour possesses the Mind that would wish to be thought happy, this you & I have often talked over, as we have sat at the Door of Graeme Park, strolled on the Terrass or watched the Moon that friend to Contemplation, how happy have we been there, & how happy may we be again. . . . 
I could not help observing, that whatever way the Ship moved she appeared to be in the Centre of a Circle, for the Sea seems to be a perfect Circle, surrounded by the Clouds, that look as if they bent down at the Edges to join it, so that our own Eyes form the Horizon, & like Self-Love, we are always placing ourselves in the Middle, where all Things move round us.—I saw the Sun set clear, for the first Time, I was reading Priam’s Petition to Achilles, for the Body of Hector, I think my Eyes were engaged in one of the finest Sights in the Universe, & my Passions, interested in one of the most pathetic that History or Poetry can paint.—
Graeme was reading a passage from the Iliad. When she returned from England she took up residence at the family home, Graeme Park, outside of Philadelphia. A noted hostess she held literary “attic salons” where many noted Philadelphians gathered—she met her husband-to-be, Hugh Henry Fergusson, at one of these. Fergusson worked for the British during the occupation of Philadelphia. When the British evacuated the city he went to England and urged his wife to join him there. But she had inherited Graeme Park when her parents died and was loath to give it up. Unfortunately, according to colonial law of “feme covert,” a wife’s property became her husband’s after their marriage. Because Fergusson was a Loyalist, Graeme Park was confiscated by the Pennsylvania government. After two years of petitioning Elizabeth finally regained the family home in 1781. But the upkeep proved to be such a financial burden that she was obliged to sell. She lived with friends, writing and publishing poetry, translating classical works, and sharing commonplace books with other women. She died in 1801.
I wish I had kept a commonplace book. I could never muster enough discipline or time to do so although there are bits and pieces of things I found interesting—from magazine articles to photos, from odd words to poems, from recipes to DYI columns—scattered here and there in physical notes or on my computer. MILCAH MARTHA MOORE (1740-1829), however, did keep a commonplace book: copying poems she found interesting, letters from friends, items from newspapers and passages from books, usually for her own pleasure, but often with the intention of sharing them with friends or relatives in the Philadelphia area. Poems she copied were frequently by women who had not been able to publish them but who were able to achieve some recognition by having them circulated among women friends. 
