With all this beauty, it Cannot be supposed but that Delia was followed by
a train of admirers. The celebrated Mr. Prattle, for whom a thousand fair
ones cracked their fans and tore their caps, was one of the first to
enlist himself among her adorers. Squire Savage, the fox-hunter, who, like
Hippolitus of old, chased the wily fox and timid hare, and had never yet
acknowledged the empire of beauty, was subdued by the artless sweetness of
Delia. Nay, it has been reported, that the incomparable lord Martin, a
peer of ten thousand pounds a year, had made advances to her father. It is
true, his lordship was scarcely four feet three inches in stature, his
belly was prominent, one leg was half a foot shorter, and one shoulder
half a foot higher than the other. His temper was as crooked as his shape;
the sight of a happy human being would give him the spleen; and no mortal
man could long reside under the same roof with him. But in spite of these
trifling imperfections, it has been confidently affirmed, that some of the
haughtiest beauties of Hampshire would have been proud of his alliance.
Thus assailed with all the temptations that human nature could furnish, it
might naturally be supposed, that Delia had long since resigned her heart.
But in this conjecture, however natural, the reader will find himself
mistaken. She seemed as coy as Daphne, and as cold as Diana.
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