If any man was to take his Bible oath that that little delicate girl,
when she gets home, and the hall-door is shut, will scream out at the
tip eend of her voice, like a screetching paraquet, "Eliza Euphemia,
where in creation have you stowed yourself too?" and that Eliza
Euphemia would hear her away up in the third story, and in the same
key answer: "I can't come down, I ain't fit to be seen, nary way, for
I'm all open before, and onfastened behind, and my hair is all in
paper," I wouldn't believe him; would you?
The other young lady, that follows, is a little too much of Juno, and
somewhat too little of Venus. She is a tall, splendid-looking heifer,
as fine a gall as you will see in any country, and she takes it for
granted you don't need to inquire who she is. She ain't bold, and she
ain't diffident; but she can stare as well as you can, and has as good
a right too. Her look is scorny, as the snobocracy pass and do homage,
by bestowing on her an admiring look. Her step is firm, but elastic;
it is a decided step, but the pious lay-brother regards her not, and
moves not out of his way for her. So she stops that he may see his
error, and when he does look, he perceives that it would lead him into
further error if he gazed long, so he moves to the other side of the
path, but does it so slowly, she confronts him again. After a moment's
reflection, he tries to turn her flank--a movement that is
unfortunately anticipated by her, and there is a collision on the
track.
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