Indeed, this love of dress seemed to be quite a mania with the girl; for I am sure the stupid thing must have gone spending every penny of her wages upon her back. And do what I would, I couldn’t prevent the conceited peacock from poking her nasty, greasy bottles of rose hair-oil and filthy combs and brushes all among the plates and dishes over the dresser. And I declare, upon looking in the drawer of the kitchen table one morning, while she was making the beds up stairs, if I didn’t stumble upon a trumpery sixpenny copy of “The Hand-Book of the Toilet,” which soon told me that the dirty messes I had been continually finding in all the saucepans, were either some pomatum, or cream, or wash, which she had been making for her face or hands. And a day or two afterwards, while I was down stairs seeing about the dinner, if the precious beauty hadn’t the impudence to tell me that she wished to goodness that her “hibrows met like mine did, for it was considered very handsome by the hancients;” and in a few minutes afterwards, the dirty puss informed me that the Hand-Book of the Tilet said that you ought to clean your teeth every morning, and that she had lately tried it, and had no hidea that it was so hagreable; and then, with the greatest coolness imaginable, if she didn’t advise _me_ to rub my gums with salt hevery night before I went to bed; for that the lady of rank and fashion who, she said, was the talented hauthoress of the little work, declared that it made your gums look uncommon lovely and red. On which I told her that I was disgusted to find her head filled with such a heap of rubbish as it was.