with red skirt, red shoes, blue jacket, fancy hat with streamers, and the cantin suspended from her leather girdle; Mrs. B—, of New York, as "Undine," in a dress of blue and white tulle, festooned with shells and water lilies, and pearls wreathed in her hair; Miss D—, of New York, as a Gleaner, in a white dress with corsage striped with black velvet, and hair adorned with sprays of wheat; Miss R., of Philadelphia, in a dress entirely composed of newspapers, which was much noticed—and numbers of other elegant costumes which I can not remember. It was a night for very brilliant and very lovely women to display their tastes, their jewels and their fascinations.
The South and the North were at one time at great rivalry at Saratoga; the Southerners had it all their own way for many years, but at length New York succeeded in taking the lead, and up to this time has kept it with unrivaled success. But the New Yorkers are very far from being at peace among themselves at Saratoga, or any other place. New York has its cliques, and the maneuvering practiced among them is curious to observe. Sometimes one is ahead, and sometimes another; but there are always certain ones whose dignity, wealth and bearing keep them beyond the fluctuations that worry and fret the rising generation; they feel that they have triumphed, that their foundation is sure, and they wear their laurels quietly but securely. These elegant people sit calmly down, and amuse themselves with beholding the heart-burnings and strivings of new aspirants to the throne of fashion.
Very romantic dramas are occasionally enacted at Saratoga; I remember one among many, worth relat-
