Tylney Hall

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Tylney Hall

232

TYLNEY HALL.

—Miss Trimmer, I know you like solitude ; and

that's the way to the Hermitage. Don't be alarmed

at the cow, she's only flapping off the flies

Dr. Cobb, there's lunch in the dining room

Mr. Cottrel, do go and divide those young ladies

—beaux, beaux, what are you about?—come,

choose partners, don't let the band play for nothing—

Mr. Crump, a glass of wine "

Such was the style of Twigg's exhortations

who, unlike other lecturers, endeavoured to en-

force his precepts by practice. He made a dozen

ineff"ectual offers with the trap-bat at the ball,

bobbed a fishing-line up and down in the fish-pond,

seized Mrs. Deputy Dobbs, and cut a brief caper

with her on the grass plat, and finally, fitting an

arrow to a bow, the shaft escaped from his fingers,

and passed through Mrs. Tipper's turban, where

it lodged, like a skewer a la Grecque. ISuch a

commencement made every one averse to archery,

and particularly as Mrs. Twigg requested that

before shooting any more arrows, they Avould let

her put corks on all the points. As to angling,

it seemed universally agreed, that on such a day

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