Year: 1872

DIR. Ayscough one day, according to
the rules of his office as assistant libra
rian in the British Museum, London,
attended through that grand magazine
of curiosities party of ladies and a
gentleman; all of whom, except one
lady, were disposed to be highly pleas
ed with what they saw; and really
would have been so, if this capricious
fair one had not continually damped
their qualification with such exclama-
tions as these:


ooh, trumpery! come along! l see
nothing worth looking att


This lady being the handsomest
of the group, Mr.. Ayscough (who
though an old bachelor, was great
admirer of beauty at first fixed upon
her as his temporary favorite, but soon
had reason to transfer his particular
attentions to another less handsome,
but more amiable. On her continu-
ing a similar strain of exclamation, ut
tered with correspondent looks and de-
meanor, he said:


"My sweet young lady, what pains
you kindly take to prevent that fine
face of yours from killing half the
beaux in London," and then directed
his conversation, explanatory Of the
different objects before them, to the
rest of the party.


So much influence, however, had she
over her companions, that, beaten as
the sound was to the doctor, she caus-
ed him to finish it considerably sooner
than was either pleasant to his mind
or convenient to the state or ponderos-
ity of his body.


While in the last room, just before
his parting bow, addressing himself to
her, with that suavity of manner which
was so peculiar to him he smilingly
said:


"Why, what a cross little puss you
are! Nothing pleases you. Here are
curious and valuable things, bought
at a vast expense from all parts of the
world, and you think, with these airs,
that that pretty face will ever get you
a husband? Not if he knows you half
an hour first. Almost every day of my
life, and especially when attending the
ladies through these rooms, [ regret
being an old bachelor; for | see many
charming, good tempered women, that
I Ireproach myself for not trying to per-
suade one of them to bless me with her
company. But [ can't fall in love with
you, and I'll honestly tell you I shall
pity the man that does; for | am sure
you will plague him out of his life"


During this singular valedictory
speech delivered with such pleasantly
that even the reproved could not take
offence at it), the gentleman who was
of the party looked now at the speaker
and then at the lady, with considera-
BILE emotion, but said nothing; while
she called up no small portion of light
ming into fine dark pair of eyes, and
some transient flashes of it into her
cheeks; and then, with her friends
(who affably wished their candid cice-
ro'ai a good morning), withdrew.


Somewhat more than year after
wards; on going the same round again,
the Doctor was particularly pleased
with one lady of the party; and that
one being the prettiest he contrived ac-
cording to his wonted custom, soon to
getn her. Respectfully inquisitive
concerning every object which time al
lowed her to notice, she asked num-
Der of questions; and, most willingly
he taught his fair one all he knew,
while, in the most engaging manner,
she drew the attention of her friends
to many curiosities which they would
otherwise have passed by unobserved.


In short, as Bishop Rumble says, she
"being disposed to be pleased with
everything, everything conspired to
please her." Nor was less pleased her