THE BEAUTIFUL ENGLISHWOMAN.
There was a beautiful Englishwoman here once, beautiful and rich as the sun.[1] Heads without number were turned by her: but she would have nothing to say to anyone who wanted to marry her. Some defect she found in all. She was very accomplished, as well as rich and beautiful, and she drew a picture, and said ‘When one comes who is like this I will marry him; but no one else.’ Some time after a friend came to her, and said:
‘There is So-and-so, he is exactly like the portrait you have drawn, and is dying to see you.’
‘Is he really like it?’ she inquired.
‘To me he seems exactly like it; and I don’t see he has any defect at all, except that he has one tooth a little green.’
‘Then I won’t have anything to say to him.’
‘But, if he is exactly like the portrait you have drawn?’
‘He can’t be, or he wouldn’t have any defect.’
‘But he is exactly like it, and so you must see him; if it’s only for curiosity.’
‘Well, for curiosity, then, I’ll see him; but don’t let him build any hopes upon it.’