Miss Mi-l

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As pretty a little tit-bit as ever was touch�d, the softest down that ever doves of Venus shed on the mountains of love, is scarcely a match for her skin, were we to make use of the Hyperbole of the poets, her eyes would be diamonds, her cheeks, roses and lillies, her teeth ivory, her breath sweeter than Arabian gales, and in fact, superior to the goddess they are votaries to, but this is mere transient, and passeth away like clouds before the wind, for the moment the service of love is o'er, they find her a mere mortal with all her charms, and the fested smile which issue forth to the olfactory nerves, plainly declare her a mortal only : her tresses are fair, eyes black, and her complexion entirely juvenile.