“Why, you knows, your honour,” answered the Corporal, “so far as vartue’s concerned, there’s a deal in constitution; but as for knowledge of the world, one gets it oneself!”
“I don’t wonder, Bunting—as your opinion of women is much the same as your opinion of men—that you are still unmarried.”
“Augh! but your honour mistakes!—I am no mice-and-trope. Men are neither one thing nor t’other—neither good nor bad. A prudent parson has nothing to fear from ‘em—nor a foolish one any thing to gain—baugh! As to the women creturs, your honour, as I said, vartue’s a deal in the constitution. Would not ask what a lassie’s mind be—nor what her eddycation;—but see what her habits be, that’s all—habits and constitution all one—play into one another’s hands.”
“And what sort of signs, Bunting, would you mostly esteem in a lady?”
“First place, Sir—woman I’d marry, must not mope when alone!—must be able to ‘muse herself; must be easily ‘mused. That’s a great sign, Sir, of an innocent mind, to be tickled with straws. Besides, employments keeps ‘em out of harm’s way. Second place, should obsarve, if she was very fond of places, your honour—sorry to move—that’s a sure sign she won’t tire easily; but that if she like you now from fancy, she’ll like you by and by from custom. Thirdly, your honour, she should not be avarse to dress—a leaning that way shows she has a desire to please: people who don’t care about pleasing, always sullen. Fourthly, she must bear to be crossed—I’d be quite sure that she might be contradicted, without mumping or storming;—‘cause then, you knows, your honour, if she wanted any thing expensive—need not give it—augh! Fifthly, must not be over religious, your honour; they pyehouse she-creturs always thinks themsels so much better nor we men;—don’t understand our language and ways, your honour: they wants us not only to belave, but to tremble—bother!”
“I like your description well enough, on the whole,” said Walter, “and when I look out for a wife, I shall come to you for advice.”
“Your honour may have it already—Miss Ellinor’s jist the thing.”
Walter turned away his head, and told Bunting, with great show of indignation, not to be a fool.
The Corporal, who was not quite certain of his ground here, but who knew that Madeline, at all events, was going to be married to Aram, and deemed it, therefore, quite useless to waste any praise upon her, thought that a few random shots of eulogium were worth throwing away on a chance, and consequently continued.
“Augh, your honour—‘tis not ‘cause I have eyes, that I be’s a fool. Miss Ellinor and your honour be only cousins, to be sure; but more like brother and sister, nor any thing else. Howsomever, she’s a rare cretur, whoever gets her has a face that puts one in good-humour with the world, if one sees it first thing in the morning—‘tis as good as the sun in July—augh! But, as I was saying, your honour—‘bout the women-creturs in general—” “Enough of them, Bunting; let us suppose you have been so fortunate as to find one to suit you—how would you woo her? Of course, there are certain secrets of courtship, which you will not hesitate to impart to one, who, like me, wants such assistance from art—much more than you can do, who are so bountifully favoured by Nature.”