is _rather_ unprecedented for an heiress of
12,000l. a year to leave to posterity, in her own hand writing, five
folio volumes of recipes, for pickling, preserving, potting, and pastry,
for stewing and larding, making ketchup and sour krout, oyster patties,
barbacued pies, jellies, jams, soups, sour sauce, and sweetmeats.

_Lady W._ Oh, sir Willoughby! if young ladies of the present day paid
more attention to such substantial acquirements, we should have better
wives and better husbands.

_Sir W._ Why that is singularly just.

_Lady W._ Yes, if women were taught to find amusement in domestic
duties, instead of seeking it at a circulating library, assemblies, and
balls, we should hear of fewer appeals to Doctor's Commons and the court
of King's Bench.

_Sir W._ Why that is undeniably true _(aside)_ and now, as we have a
moment uninterrupted by family affairs--

_Enter_ William.

_Lady W._ Is the carriage come?

_Will._ No, my lady.

_Lady W._ Have you carried the books?

_Will._ No, my lady.

_Lady W._ Then go and hasten the coachman.

_Will._ No, my lady--_yes_, my lady.

_Lady W._ And William, send up Tiffany to Miss Helen's room, and bid her
say we expect her at breakfast.

_Will._ Miss Helen has been in the park these two hours.

_Sir W. (Laughs aside.)_

_Lady W._ How! in the park these two hours? Impossible. Send Tiffany to
seek her.

_Will._ Yes, my lady. [_Exit._

_Sir W._ So, as usual, risen with the lark, I suppose.

_Lady W._ Her disobedience will break my heart.

_Sir W._ Zounds! I shall go mad. Here's a mother-in-law going to break
her heart, because my daughter prefers a walk in the morning to writing
culinary secrets in a fat folio family receipt book!

_Lady W._ Sir Willoughby, sir Willoughby, it is you who encourage her in
disregarding my orders.

_Sir W._ No such thing, lady Worret, no such thing: but if the girl
likes to bring home a pair of ruddy cheeks from a morning walk, I don't
see why she is to be balked of her fancy.

_Lady W._ Ruddy cheeks, indeed! Such robust health is becoming only in
dairy maids.

_Sir W._ Yes, I know your taste to a T. A consumption is always a key to
your tender heart; and an interesting pallid countenance will at any
time unlock the door to your best affections: but I must be excused if I
prefer seeing my daughter with the rosy glow of health upon her cheek,
rather than the sickly imitations of art, which bloom on the surface
alone, wh