_Lady Betty._ Is it not enough to provoke anybody to be contradicted in a thing that a person has voyag'd for? But I tell you Madam, not one in a thousand of the English know how to blow the Nose--it's a thing not understood in this country. _Harriet._ With all my Heart, Ma'am, if you will have it so. _Lady Betty._ It's very true though--the people of this Country don't know how to blow the Nose--or to walk, or to sit down, or to rise up, or to cough, or to spit, or to sneeze--now let me hear you sneeze. _Harriet._ I wou'd oblige you Ma'am with such a thing, if I possibly cou'd. _Lady Betty._ Oh, you can't then, here, take a pinch of snuff to provoke a Sneeze. (_Gives snuff_) _Harriet._ I have no Objection to a pinch of snuff, Ma'am. (_Takes snuff_) _Lady Betty._ Look ye there, now, that's not the way to take Snuff. The thing does not consist in stuffing it up the Nostrils, as if you were gormandizing upon it--with your Arm lifted up, and your Head shrunk down, just as if you were frighten'd at something--but it must be introduced as a grace to Conversation. Now observe me--I make the most of my Person--hold my Head up with an air. Then suppose me in the middle of a story about an Amour, or the French Court, or a new fashion, or what you will--then I open my Snuff-box, then look at myself in the glass, and reclaim a straggling Hair--then I proceed. I wave my Arm out to its full length, then I gradually bring it to, forming a graceful Semicircle, and never move my head towards my hand--thus (_Mimicks_) but I make my hand pay its devoirs to my head--thus. (_Mimicks_) Then I apply my fingers with the utmost delicatesse--and I smile--I smile and look as if I were thinking--and then I don't souse my hand down at once, thus--(_Mimicks_) but I restore it to its place in the same graceful manner--thus--you see now the Semicircle opens. Then with an elegant turn of my wrist, I drop my Arm in a gentle dying--dying fall. _Harriet._ Well now as I live and breathe, my Lady Betty I never cou'd have thought there was so much Consequence in a Trifle. _Lady Betty._ Trifle! Trifles are the most important things in Life. The Beau Monde is made up of Trifles--Paris is made up of Trifles--I am made up of Trifles--the French are all Trifles, and so vive la Bagatelle. But my dear Madamoiselle Harriet you're a perfect corpse child, let me put on a little Rouge--no, I have none about me; and then your Cap (_Takes off a very small one_)--fie, done, it's large enough for a Soapboiler's Wife--here let me put this Bouquet in your Hair. There, now you have Cap enough--the Creature looked odiously handsome before--I cou'd not bear it. _Harriet._ Dear Ma'am, but I'm afraid I shall take cold. _Lady Betty._ Cold! What then? If you do, you'll be in the fashion. But I assure you, child, you must voyage, indeed, and 'till you do, I lend you one of my faces to keep you in Countenance. _Harriet._ Ma'am I am very much oblig'd to you, but Heav'n has given me a face.