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next day, my wife went to make the venison pasty; Moses sate reading, while I taught the little ones: my daughters seemed equally busy with the rest; and I observed them for a good while cooking something over the fire. I at first supposed they were assisting their mother; but little Dick informed me in a whisper, that they were making a wash for the face. Washes of all kinds I had a natural antipathy to; for I knew that instead of mending the complexion they spoiled it. I therefore approached my chair by sly degrees to the fire, and grasping the poker, as if it wanted mending, seemingly by accident, overturned the whole composition, and it was too late to begin another.

CHAPTER 7
A town wit described. The dullest fellows may learn to be comical for a night or two
    WHEN THE morning arrived on which we were to entertain our young landlord, it may be easily supposed what provisions were exhausted to make an appearance. It may also be conjectured that my wife and daughters expanded their gayest plumage upon this occasion. Mr. Thornhill came with a couple of friends, his chaplain and feeder. The servants, who were numerous, he politely ordered to the next alehouse: but my wife, in the triumph of her heart, insisted on entertaining them all; for which, by the bye, our family was pinched for three weeks after. As Mr. Burchell had hinted to us the day before, that he was making some proposals of marriage to Miss Wilmot, my son George’s former mistress, this a good deal damped the heartiness of his reception: but accident, in some measure, relieved our embarrasment; for one of the company happening to mention her name, Mr. Thornhill observed with an oath, that he never knew any thing more absurd than calling such a fright a beauty: “For strike me ugly,” continued he, “if I should not find as much pleasure in choosing my mistress by the information of a lamp under the clock at St Dunstan’s.” At this he laughed, and so did we:—the jests of the rich are ever successful. Olivia too could not avoid whispering, loud enough to be heard, that he had an infinite fund of humour.
    After dinner, I began with my usual toast, the Church; for this I was thanked by the chaplain, as he said the church was the only mistress of his affections.—“Come tell us honestly, Frank,” said the ’Squire, with his usual archness, “suppose the church, your present mistress, drest in lawn sleeves, on one hand, and Miss Sophia, with no lawn about her, on the other, which would you be for?” “For both, to be sure,” cried the chaplain.—“Right Frank,” cried the ’Squire; “for may this glass suffocate me but a fine girl is worth all the priestcraft in the creation. For what are tythes and tricks but an imposition, all a confounded imposture, and I can prove it.”—“I wish you would,” cried my son Moses, “and I think,” continued he, “that I should be able to answer you.”—“Very well, Sir,” cried the ’Squire, who immediately smoaked him, and winking on the rest of the company, to prepare us for the sport, if you are for a cool argument upon that subject, I am ready to accept the challenge. And first, whether are you for managing it analogically, or dialogically?” “I am for managing it rationally,” cried Moses, quite happy at being permitted to dispute. “Good again,” cried the ’Squire, “and firstly, of the first. I hope you’ll not deny that whatever is is. If you don’t grant me that, I can go no further.”—“Why,” returned Moses, “I think I may grant that, and make the best of it.”—“I hope too,” returned the other, “you’ll grant that a part is less than the whole.” “I grant that too,” cried Moses, “it is but just and reasonable.”—“I hope,” cried the ’Squire, “you will not deny,