Thou wilt be curious to know what the persons of these women are, to whom I intend so much distinction.  I think I have not heretofore mentioned any thing characteristic of their persons.

Mrs. Moore is a widow of about thirty-eight; a little mortified by misfortunes; but those are often the merriest folks, when warmed.  She has good features still; and is what they call much of a gentlewoman, and very neat in her person and dress.  She has given over, I believe, all thoughts of our sex:  but when the dying embers are raked up about the half-consumed stump, there will be fuel enough left, I dare say, to blaze out, and give a comfortable warmth to a half-starved by-stander.

Mrs. Bevis is comely; that is to say, plump; a lover of mirth, and one whom no grief ever dwelt with, I dare say, for a week together; about twenty-five years of age:  Mowbray will have very little difficulty with her, I believe; for one cannot do every thing one’s self.  And yet sometimes women of this free cast, when it comes to the point, answer not the promises their cheerful forwardness gives a man who has a view upon them.

Miss Rawlins is an agreeable young lady enough; but not beautiful.  She has sense, and would be thought to know the world, as it is called; but, for her knowledge, is more indebted to theory than experience.  A mere whipt-syllabub knowledge this, Jack, that always fails the person who trusts to it, when it should hold to do her service.  For such young ladies have so much dependence upon their own understanding and wariness, are so much above the cautions that the less opinionative may be benefited by, that their presumption is generally their overthrow, when attempted by a man of experience, who knows how to flatter their vanity, and to magnify their wisdom, in order to take advantage of their folly.  But, for Miss Rawlins, if I can add experience to her theory, what an accomplished person will she be!—­And how much will she be obliged to me; and not only she, but all those who may be the better for the precepts she thinks herself already so well qualified to give!  Dearly, Jack, do I love to engage with these precept-givers, and example-setters.

Now, Belford, although there is nothing striking in any of these characters; yet may we, at a pinch, make a good frolicky half-day with them, if, after we have softened their wax at table by encouraging viands, we can set our women and them into dancing:  dancing, which all women love, and all men should therefore promote, for both their sakes.

And thus, when Tourville sings, Belton fiddles, Mowbray makes rough love, and I smooth; and thou, Jack, wilt be by that time well enough to join in the chorus; the devil’s in’t if we don’t mould them into what shape we please—­our own women, by their laughing freedoms, encouraging them to break through all their customary reserves.  For women to women, thou knowest, are great darers and incentives:  not one of them loving to be outdone or outdared, when their hearts are thoroughly warmed.