er to show the
trimness of her ankles. But these patterns, of course, are various.
The toilet is ancient, carved at the edges, and tied about with a
snow-white drapery of muslin. Beside it are various boxes, mostly
japan; and the set of drawers are exquisite things for a little girl
to rummage, if ever little girl be so bold,--containing ribbons and
laces of various kinds; linen smelling of lavender, of the flowers of
which there is always dust in the corners; a heap of pocket-books for
a series of years; and pieces of dress long gone by, such as
head-fronts, stomachers, and flowered satin shoes, with enormous
heels. The stock of _letters_ are under especial lock and key. So much
for the bedroom. In the sitting-room is rather a spare assortment of
shining old mahogany furniture, or carved arm-chairs equally old, with
chintz draperies down to the ground; a folding or other screen, with
Chinese figures, their round, little-eyed, meek faces perking
sideways; a stuffed bird, perhaps in a glass case (a living one is too
much for her); a portrait of her husband over the mantelpiece, in a
coat with frog-buttons, and a delicate frilled hand lightly inserted
in the waistcoat; and opposite him on the wall, is a piece of
embroidered literature, framed and glazed, containing some moral
distich or maxim, worked in angular capital letters, with two trees of
parrots below, in their proper colours; the whole concluding with an A
B C and numerals, and the name of the fair industrious, expressing it
to be "her work, Jan. 14, 1762." The rest of the furniture consists of
a looking-glass with carved edges, perhaps a settee, a hassock for the
feet, a mat for the little dog, and a small set of shelves, in which
are the "Spectator" and "Guardian," the "Turkish Spy," a Bible and
Prayer Book, Young's "Night Thoughts" with a piece of lace in it to
flatten, Mrs. Rowe's "Devout Exercises of the Heart," Mrs. Glasse's
"Cookery," and perhaps "Sir Charles Grandison," and "Clarissa." "John
Buncle" is in the closet among the pickles and preserves. The clock is
on the landing-place between the two room doors, where it ticks
audibly but quietly; and the landing-place, as well as the stairs, is
carpeted to a nicety. The house is most in character, and properly
coeval, if it is in a retired suburb, and strongly built, with
wainscot rather than paper inside, and lockers in the windows. Before
the windows should be some quivering poplars. Here the Old Lady
rec