We.—No less a person than the Earl of Rochester, in 1670.
The Librarian.—No less a person! I should think you would say, no more a person. He was a dissipated scapegrace.
We.—Oh, there are plenty of other authors in England who have written on beauty, if we rule the Earl out. You know Alexander Walker's handsome octavo, and the work of Mrs. A. Walker (spouse or relict of the said Alexander we know not) called Essay on Female Beauty, republished in this city some years back.
Portia.—I have read that book, and thought it very empty.
We.—So it is. But you will not say the same of Dr. John Bell's "Health and Beauty," if you have read that.
Portia.—Yes, I read that too, and liked it much better, but he don't tell enough "toilet arts." It is too much health, and not enough beauty.
The Librarian.—He wrote thirty odd years ago, before women were so vain and false as they are now.
We.—What words are these? The arts we speak of are as old as civilization.
Portia.—Don't mind him. Don't Horace speak of a certain time of life when we always praise the past at the expense of the present? I spare somebody the application. But that reminds me of a criticism I
