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SMITCHENSTAULT.

O no! no bind!—I do bind nothing,—loose all: dat is my plan; de free plan of nature: so I do teach my pupils.

CHARVILLE.

A most agreeable lesson, truly: and you will find some ladies very willing to become your pupils; if, indeed, they are not already more qualified to teach than to learn.

MARY.

Dear brother, how severe you are! But a truce to philosophy! It is in matters of taste that we have been craving Mr. Smitchenstault's instruction, though he has not yet told us whether the dew-drops—emblems of sensibility—should be hung upon this rose, or the buds which have been torn from her. (Pointing to the flowers Mrs. Charville has been painting.)

CHARVILLE (eagerly to Mrs. Charville).

Is it the flower I gave you this morning?

MRS. CHARVILLE.

O dear, no! It is the one Sir Robert Freemantle wore in his button-hole: we have not one in the whole garden of the same species. Come, do you tell us where these same dew-drops should be disposed of on this drawing?

CHARVILLE.

Dip it into the well, if you please, and it will have drops enough.