when their house was so near, we
should have recourse to so insufficient a shelter. Our surprise at the
sight of so uncommon a society occasioned our making but an awkward
return to their obliging reception; nor when we observed how many arts
we had interrupted, could we avoid being ashamed that we had then
intruded upon them.

But before I proceed farther, I shall endeavour to give you some idea of
the persons of the ladies, whose minds I shall afterwards best describe
by their actions. The two who sat in the bow window were called Mrs
Maynard and Miss Selvyn. Mrs Maynard is between forty and fifty years of
age, a little woman, well made, with a lively and genteel air, her hair
black, and her eyes of the same colour, bright and piercing, her
features good, and complexion agreeable, though brown. Her countenance
expresses all the vivacity of youth, tempered with a serenity which
becomes her age.

Miss Selvyn can scarcely be called tall, though she approaches that
standard. Her features are too irregular to be handsome, but there is a
sensibility and delicacy in her countenance which render her extremely
engaging; and her person is elegant.

Miss Mancel, whom we had disturbed from her painting, is tall and finely
formed, has great elegance of figure, and is graceful in every motion.
Her hair is of a fine brown, her eyes blue, with all that sensible
sweetness which is peculiar to that colour. In short, she excels in
every beauty but the bloom, which is so soon faded, and so impossible to
be imitated by the utmost efforts of art, nor has she suffered any
farther by years than the loss of that radiance which renders beauty
rather more resplendent than more pleasing.

Miss Trentham, who was carving by her, was the tallest of the company,
and in dignity of air particularly excels, but her features and
complexion have been so injured by the smallpox, that one can but just
guess they were once uncommonly fine; a sweetness of countenance, and a
very sensible look, indeed, still remain, and have baffled all the most
cruel ravages of that distemper.

Lady Mary Jones, whom we found engraving, seems to have been rather
pleasing than beautiful. She is thin and pale, but a pair of the finest
black eyes I ever saw, animate, to a great degree, a countenance which
sickness has done its utmost to render languid, but has, perhaps, only
made more delicate and amiable. Her person is exquisitely genteel, and
her voice, in common speech