At this important moment, in popped our perpetual interrupter, Dr. Tonic.

“Psha, d—n it,” said my uncle, as he opened the door.

“How d’ye do, Sir, have you heard of the female levee at the Rectory this morning?”

“Not I,” answered my uncle, peevishly, “nor do I want to know any thing about it.”

“Oh, but I must tell you,” continued the doctor, “Mrs. Tonic, my daughters, the widow Quiz, Mrs. Prolix, Mrs. Fungus, and Mrs. Deposit, have all been up in a possee to pay their compliments.”

“And I dare say they passed a great many,” replied my uncle, snappingly, the thread of his interesting theme having been so unexpectedly broke.

“Why, Mrs. Tonic, and the girls, and Mrs. Prolix, think her very handsome.”

“And pray who says otherwise?” interrupted my uncle.

“Why, Mrs. Fungus, and Mrs. Deposit, oppose the pretension.”

“I thought so,” rejoined my uncle; “I wish either of them would tell me so, that’s all; I’ll bet her little finger against the sense of the whole parish; and, pray, what may their scandalous audacious tongues take the liberty of saying.”

“Why, Mrs. Deposit calls her a little milk and water wax doll, who strums the harp with just taste enough to please the old Rector.”

“S’death,” exclaimed my uncle, “she’s the female Weippart of the age; her skill and taste are exquisite.”

“Well, I don’t know how it was,” continued the Doctor, “but Mrs. Fungus could not allow her a single perfection, and declared she was never more disappointed; she thought her just fit for the celebrated heroine of a romance; a little insipid soul, a wild flower of nature, that required the hand of tonish cultivation to bring into perfection.”

“And if it flourishes in proportion to the weeds of their own notoriety, sprung from dunghill consequence, it will soon overspread the village, and you may go back and tell them I say so,” said my uncle.

“Hey dey,” exclaimed the Doctor, “you’re warm—you’ve seen this little paragon, then?”

“Yes, Sir, I am warm, and I have seen more than a paragon,” replied my uncle.

“Why, why, you hav’nt fell in love; sure she ee’nt to be Mrs. Tweazy, is she?” asked the Doctor, blinking his squiney eye, and bursting into a laugh.

“What an old fool you must be,” cried my irritated uncle, “to talk such idle jargon; are you going to carry that pretty idea over the village? egad you’d better set the cryer to work; do step to Ladies Deposit and Fungus, and give them the nut to crack, and I’ll take care of the shell, I warrant me.”

The Doctor now began to draw in his horns, observing, he had merely repeated what he had heard.

“Then don’t believe it,” continued my uncle, “it’s all lies and envy; what the d—l, can’t you analyze woman?”

“No,” said the Doctor, “it is not possible in some cases.”

“I’ll bet a guinea, though I’m no physician,” replied my uncle, “that I analyze both Mrs. Fungus and Mrs. Deposit, from the crowns of their head to the soles of their feet.”

“You’re a clever man, we all know,” answered the Doctor, “I dare say you could analyze the brain, now I should only attempt the corporeal system, according to my own discretional powers.”

“You’ll pardon me, Doctor,” resumed my uncle, “when I say that my opinion of your discretion does not extend beyond a dose of physic, and a game at cribbage.”

“Hey! what,” cried the Doctor, “you’ve a high opinion of my abilities at that rate, Squire; why, now, my son Bob entertains a very great opinion of Mrs. Deposit.”

“Like enough,” resumed my uncle, “she may be one of his sort of favourites; and I’ll be sworn there is not a man in the parish would contend rivalship with him; God help his fancy: his own little wife’s worth a hundred such.”

“There are more tempting trees than one in an orchard,” said the Doctor.

“There are,” reiterated my uncle, “and the finest tree in the Rectory orchard is the new planted nonpariel.”

“There you go again,” cried the Doctor; “pray, Mr. Victor, what say you of the charms of Miss Fitzclarence?”

I replied, “from what little I had seen of the young lady, she appeared extremely sensible and agreeable; but, in regard to her musical talents, I considered myself quite sufficient judge of the science to know that there were few, very few, (if any) private performers, could excel her abilities.”

“Indeed!” cried the doctor, “egad, if that’s the case, I must make my girls scrape acquaintance, and try what they can do; my Elizetta is reckoned a tight hand at the piano, I assure you: there are few girls in the village rattle the keys like her: she’s got the knack of it; don’t you think so?”

Disgusted with his odious comparison, I merely observed, “the instruments were so different, as well as the performance, that I could not pass my judgment at present.”

“Well, well,” said my uncle, (willing to abolish the subject, lest the crafty old fox should extract my sentiments, as he did his chemicals) “now, pray let this parley cease, for as we don’t agree, we’ll adjourn the subject, because I have some agricultural business demands attention this morning; and, therefore, my moments are too precious to waste in nonsense, and I’m sure many of your patients, Doctor, must be anxiously waiting for your visits, and so for the present you’ll excuse me.”

“Certainly, certainly,” hemm’d the Doctor, who, having no alternative but to take his departure, brushed off, half grumpy, leaving my uncle to laugh in his sleeve at his agricultural fudge, by which means he had completely got rid of the Doctor; and thus again re-seating ourselves, he continued the sequel of his story.