for example, among the day promenaders, was certainly the ugliest woman I ever saw, in undress. In her fright she had hastily gathered up some valuables, among which was a full set of false teeth, with which she rushed into the hall; but when the alarm was over, and she returned to her room, she found, alas! that, among other things, she had dropped her false teeth, and what on earth should she do? Unfortunately for her, they had fallen into the clutches of a rival of hers in a love affair, were retained by the lady and shown to the lover, to the utter downfall of the bereft belle. The lover at first doubted the story; but as she remained in her room for days after the incident, and subsequently fled suddenly from Saratoga, his belief was confirmed, and the lover fled also from both the toothless woman and the ungenerous exposer of the defect—to be heard of no more, that season at least. It was easy to replace the teeth, however, and the owner of them flourished the next year at Cape May as brilliantly as ever.
The next excitement was that of a young man of high rank, and a guest in the hotel, being caught robbing the safe of money and valuables, and being hurried away by his parents from open disgrace, in the middle of the night. Evil doers would oftentimes be terribly nonplussed if there were no night and no darkness; but misdeeds are transacted by day as well as by night.
There came a lady during that season to Saratoga, with her husband, mother, sister, and a gentleman whom report said was the married lady's lover. The gentleman was a Baltimorean, and flourished extensively with the aforesaid lady until people of position
