male."

"That, sir," said Miss Philomela, highly incensed, "is the fundamental
principle which I lay down in the first chapter, and which the whole
four volumes, of which I detailed to you the outline, are intended to
set in a strong practical light."

"Bless me!" said the doctor, "what a nap I must have had!"

Miss Philomela flung away to the side of her dear friends Gall and
Treacle, under whose fostering patronage she had been puffed into an
extensive reputation, much to the advantage of the young ladies of the
age, whom she taught to consider themselves as a sort of commodity, to
be put up at public auction, and knocked down to the highest bidder.
Mr Nightshade and Mr Mac Laurel joined the trio; and it was secretly
resolved, that Miss Philomela should furnish them with a portion of
her manuscripts, and that Messieurs Gall & Co. should devote the
following morning to cutting and drying a critique on a work
calculated to prove so extensively beneficial, that Mr Gall protested
he really _envied_ the writer.

While this amiable and enlightened quintetto were busily employed in
flattering one another, Mr Cranium retired to complete the
preparations he had begun in the morning for a lecture, with which he
intended, on some future evening, to favour the company: Sir Patrick
O'Prism walked out into the grounds to study the effect of moonlight
on the snow-clad mountains: Mr Foster and Mr Escot continued to make
love, and Mr Panscope to digest his plan of attack on the heart of
Miss Cephalis: Mr Jenkison sate by the fire, reading _Much Ado about
Nothing_: the Reverend Doctor Gaster was still enjoying the benefit of
Miss Philomela's opiate, and serenading the company from his solitary
corner: Mr Chromatic was reading music, and occasionally humming a
note: and Mr Milestone had produced his portfolio for the edification
and amusement of Miss Tenorina, Miss Graziosa, and Squire Headlong, to
whom he was pointing out the various beauties of his plan for Lord
Littlebrain's park.

_Mr Milestone._
This, you perceive, is the natural state of one part of the grounds.
Here is a wood, never yet touched by the finger of taste; thick,
intricate, and gloomy. Here is a little stream, dashing from stone to
stone, and overshadowed with these untrimmed boughs.

_Miss Tenorina._
The sweet romantic spot! How beautifully the birds must sing there on
a summer evening!

_Miss Graziosa._
Dear sister! how can you endure the horr