where her beſt Apparel, ſuch as the Remains of that Sack which we have formerly mentioned, ſome Caps, and other Things with which ſhe had lately provded herſelf, were hung up and ſecured from the Duſt.
This incloſed Place exactly fronted the Foot of the Bed, to which, indeed, the Rug hung ſo near, that it ſerved, in a Manner, to ſupply the Want of Curtains. Now, whether Molly in the Agonies of her Rage, puſhed this Rug with her Feet; or, Jones might touch it; or whether the Pin or Nail gave way of its own Accord, I am not certain; but as Molly pronounced thoſe laſt Words, which are recorded above, the wicked Rug got looſe from its Faſtning, and diſcovered every thing hid behind it; where among other female Utenſils appeared—(with Shame I write it, and with Sorrow will it be read)—the Philoſopher Square, in a Poſture (for the Place would not near admit his ſtanding upright) as ridiculous as can poſſibly be conceived.
The Poſture, indeed, in which he ſtood, was not greatly unlike that of a Soldier who is tyed Neck and Heels; or rather reſembling the Attitude in which we oftenſee
