. . was she prettier than
me? . . . could he love such a one as I was? . . . and the
like; to all which the blushing simpleton answer'd to my wish,
in a strain of perfect nature, perfect undebauch'd innocence,
but with all the awkwardness and simplicity of country-
breeding.
When I thought I had sufficiently ripen'd him for the
laudable point I had in view, one day that I expected him
at a particular hour, I took care to have the coast clear
for the reception I design'd him; and, as I laid it, he
came to the dining-room door, tapped at it, and, on my bid-
ding him come in, he did so, and shut the door after him.
I desir'd him, then, to bolt it on the inside, pretending
it would not otherwise keep shut.
I was then lying at length upon that very couch, the
scene of Mr. H . . .'s polite joys, in an undress which
was with all the art of negligence flowing loose, and in a
most tempting disorder: no stay, no hoop . . . no incum-
brance whatever. On the other hand, he stood at a little
distance, that gave me a full view of a fine featur'd,
shapely, healthy country lad, breathing the sweets of fresh
blooming youth; his hair, which was of a perfect shining
black, play'd to his face in natural side-curls, and was set
out with a smart tuck-up behind; new buckskin breeches, that,
clipping close, shew'd the shape of a plump, well made thigh;
white stockings, garter-lac'd livery, shoulder knot, alto-
gether compos'd a figure in which the beauties of pure flesh
and blood appeared under no disgrace form the lowness of a
dress, to which a certain spruce neatness seems peculiarly
fitted.
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