quite a battue amongst the pretty crinolines; there they go round and round, not like the little figures in the organs, turning on their own axis to the waltz in Der Freischütz, but round in an orbit, which threatens destruction to all within the curve of its progression. There they go round and round, his “windy” whiskers brushing her cheek, their arms straight out, now swaying up, now down—darting across the room amongst the insane crowd, who are all performing the same extraordinary evolutions; there they go round and round till panting, breathless, and nearly sinking into the floor, the lady sinks instead into a chair, the gallant madman makes his bow, wipes his forehead, and—thank gracious, a pause takes place m the wondrous paroxism of music and of motion. Taking advantage of the lucid interval, let me call the reader’s attention to a lady who is no longer a dancer, but attends parties for the pleasure of looking on, or cutting in perhaps at a rubber; but especially (dare I disclose the fact) for the sake of the little delicacies in the edible and sparkling wine department of a ball-room, which those ample-waisted, soft-skinned, damask-cheeked houris past the meridian of life discuss with so much genial warmth and relish. Really the fair dame in question might have been taken for an obese effigy of Aurora, she is so wonderfully rosy in every particular. Her dress is rose coloured tarlatan, looped up with roses, and her shoes, of course, match her dress, and are decorated with rosettes; her head-dress is a wreath of roses; her hair is scented with pomade containing the attar; her handkerchief is saturated with rose-water; her fan is rose coloured with spangles like dew drops; even the diamonds in her necklace are rose diamonds, and when her apotheosis takes place, she will assuredly become the goddess of some celestial Gûlistan.
Of course her name is Rosa, and equally undoubted her husband’s name is Rose, so that she is not only a full-blown, but a double rose. She is about to descend by herself—I grieve to state it as a fact—into the supper room, and I am just in time to offer her my arm on the threshold of the apartment devoted to such nocturnal feasting as Lucullus might have envied. The exceptional part of my usually morose and cynical nature was a habit of showing attention to the unprotected females in a ball-room, whether young or old, and I determined my good-tempered, rosy companion should want for nothing in the supper way, and I was also curious to know what this description of floral womanhood finds to talk about. It so happened on this occasion there was no especial announcement of supper; for from the first moment of the guests’ arrival till they departed, both light and substantial refreshments were provided, so that during the entire evening every one was enabled to select the period most suitable for paying those little delicate attentions to the inner being, which it receives with so much benignity and grace. By this judicious arrangement there was no pushing and jostling at a particular time, no sharp speeches from hungry chaperons, no famished young gentlemen looking wistfully at the Eleusinian portal, irrevocably closed till one o’clock, saying to one another, “this is dooced slow.” I feel assured many a flirtation, which would ultimately have fructified into matrimony, has been nipped in the bud by the delay of supper. It is not pleasant for the male actor, at such scenes, when, after framing a nice little set speech, to observe the young lady to whom it is addressed trying her best to hide a gape behind her fan. It is very shocking to attribute stomachic exhaustion to the fair sex, and very absurd to suppose that their future fate in life may depend on a glass of moselle-mousseux, or the inevitable chicken’s wing at the right time; but ye, young ladies, who dine early, and take four hours to dress, with a cup of green tea the while, tell me, I conjure you, is it not as I describe? I say nothing of that preliminary arrangement which provides you with tea, coffee, ices, and negus, as they only add to the evil, for the Minister of the Interior crieth aloud for something substantial, and hoists up a yawn as a signal of distress. If only upon these grounds, therefore, the fact of an Apician feast being provided from ten o’clock till daybreak was highly to be approved, though I observed one or two knowing dowagers picking and pinching the rarest fruits in a highly critical manner, and adhering to some recherché salmi, or mayonnaise, with a constancy worthy of the cause; so I conclude such a method of entertaining between two and three hundred people is a costly one; but as I before said, the Grants were wealthy people, and as they gave only one grand reception during the Brighton season, it was done “regardless of expense.”
My rosy friend opened the campaign in a masterly manner, prior to her general attack on the grand army of viands, forming her lines of Torres Vedras with plates and dishes, so as to secure her position. After I had for some little time attended to her wants, she at length found time for a little conversation, and commenced her remarks by a yersonal allusion.
“Why do you wear that glass on your eye, Mr. Green!—thank you, that is quite enough—I am sure you can see just as well as I can; it’s all affectation.”
“No indeed, Mrs. Rose; I am too well aware that a contortion of the 'levator palpebræ superioris’ has a repulsive, not an attractive, effect.”
“La! how clever you are! Are you a surgeon!—this salad is admirable—but why not wear spectacles?”
“Because with spectacles I could not see objects close; and you observe I let my glass fall when I desire to see things that are near.” (Here, most unluckily, my glass fell into a whipped cream.)
“Oh, you men have always some excuse—thank you, a morsel only—hark! they are playing the ‘Lancers;’ I hope I do not detain you.”
“No; I seldom dance. How strange, Mrs. Rose, are the transmutations and transformations of matter in this world. The chickens, lobsters, salads, creams, and custards which were crowding this table a few minutes since, are separated for ever, torn from their relative state of cohesion, and are now bowing to each other, and performing other evolutions in la dance, to the tune of cornet-à-piston, piano, and harp. (At this speech
