my window, to inhale all the fresh air that was to be had, and to watch the appearance of the stars in that scanty portion of the hemisphere unconcealed by walls and chimneys. About eleven o'clock I felt very sleepy and very cross, called for a candle, went to my room, and began to undress. You were going to bed? Oh no, I was going to dress for a party. As I am no coxcomb, and "never look in the glass for love of any thing I see in it," (perhaps some one may guess that I see nothing very loveable) my toilet was soon concluded; I seized my chapeau-bras, cast one longing glance at my night-cap, sent for a coach, and entered the gay Mrs. B.'s gay rooms a few minutes after midnight. There I saw painted floors and painted faces, sweeping trains and towering plumes, sparkling diamonds and sparkling eyes, flowers in pots and in heads in equal profusion, and cabinets, like a woman's brain, full of fine things and pretty things and useless things, all jumbled together without order or design. I passed what is said to be a very pleasant evening, that is, I had a nod from four or five acquaintance, and a push from four or five hundred strangers; I was sometimes drowsy, sometimes faint from heat; I was occasionally pinned into a corner, and unable to move for twenty minutes; my toes were frequently trodden upon (nota-bene, I have corns); my sides frequently squeezed; I heard good music that made my head ache, ate good ice that made my teeth ache, and pushed my way through two or three quadrilles with partners whom I never wish to see again.

My first was a beauty, a real, superlative, blazing beauty, of about three or four and twenty. Her face and figure were both bewitching. Tall and enbonpoint, she had a slight and graceful bend from the waist, which gave an air of langour and elegance to her carriage, well according with the softness of a large full eye, shaded by a heavy lid most beautifully fringed, and with the exquisite polish and downiness of a skin whose smoothness my eye seemed to feel. I was full of admiration, preparing to be charmed, and fortifying my heart against love at first sight. "If," thought I, trembling at my danger, "if she should light up those beautiful eyes with the blaze of intellect, and embellish that lovely mouth with the magic of goodhumour, vincendo mecol lume d'un sorriso,' I am afraid it will be all over with me."

But my fears were unfounded, and my heart proof against all the magnificence of her person and air. Educated probably in the belief that beauty is a sure and sufficient passport to every man's homage and love, and disdaining to call in the aid of auxiliaries in her conquering career, or impressed by some vague notion of keeping up her own dignity, my lovely partner appeared to consider her showing herself to the world at all as an act of infinite condescension. To look at her was honour

enough she did not deign to return the compliment by looking at me; she distanced every attempt at conversation, bridled into triple disdain when I ventured to address her, and barely allowed the tips of her fingers to touch my hand in those parts of the quadrille which required the profanation. Perhaps she was displeased by my snub nose, or the cut of my coat, or perhaps she discovered that I had not learned to dance in Paris-so I thought, till in the course of the evening I perceived that the gayest men and the best dancers in the room, with aquiline noses into the bargain, met with the same freezing reception from this contemptuous fair one. Thanks to her pride, her folly, or stupidity, I came off heart-whole; for although I am too great an admirer of beauty to fall in love with even a Minerva, marked by the small-pox, yet I could never be captivated by personal attractions, unless brightened by intellect and vivified by soul: I should as soon think of kneeling to one of Guido's hours, or pining away for the Venus de' Medici.

I am ashamed to say that I found myself anticipating with malicious satisfaction the time when my haughty beauty will become a slighted old maid. There are bright eyes enough in the world which will look kindly on their admirers, and plenty of lovely lips that will at least chatter good-natured nonsense; and unless twenty thousand golden charms contribute their powerful influence, a proud or dull goddess will not find adorers for more than an evening, will meet with only eye-worship, and see no hearts laid upon her altar. Then when the freshness of youth begins to disappear, and its bloom to fade, when newer faces attract, and partners for even a quadrille are valuable possessions, the beauty of thirty sickens for past homage, and would fain begin to be condescending and agreeable; but alas! disappointment sours the temper, adds premature wrinkles and unnecessary gray hairs, years creep on, rouge and pink ribands cannot retard their progress, forty will arrive at last, and bring a "single blessedness," which good-humour does not sweeten, nor intellect or usefulness ennoble.

Such were my reflections on my first partner, as I stood squeezed up in the refreshment-room, hot and thirsty, longing for ices and Roman punch, for lemonade and negus, but debarred by the intervention of fifty ladies from obtaining my desires.

My second compagnon de danse was a very different person. She was just pretty enough not to be plain, had a smart figure, and a turned-up nose, of which she appeared to be proud; for she contrived to give it more than natural elevation by a frequent jerk of the head. She was fashionably dressed, that is, she looked as if one of our great grandmother's pictures had stepped out of its frame. The scanty arrangement of hair on the forehead, the mass of corkscrew-curls falling in gradual profusion from the temples, the long waist, wide sash, and pointed sto

macher, all reminded me of days of yore, and made me expect to see a full-blown rose in the lady's hand, or a lap-dog with a gilt collar at her feet. She seized every moment she could gain for conversation, or I should rather say for talking, and "talking is not always to converse." Heavens! how many things she said while we were at supper! I remember that among other subjects she touched upon the following: Belzoni, Adam, men's hats, the Spanish constitution, the radicals, handsome men, architecture, Venetian beads, Lord Byron, romance, artificial flowers, Brussels lace, Roman pearl, young Grimaldi, the Bible Society, old china, the North Pole, and pine-apple ice, &c. &c. To be sure, she did not say any thing very new or very wise upon these topics; she did not comprehend the nature of half of them; ran one into another in a most extraordinary manner, and talked so rapidly that I could with difficulty follow the variegated thread of her discourse.

"Have you seen Belzoni? I long to go; but there is such a crowd. I hope there a'n't many mummies, they are so shocking, it makes one quite shudder. I should like to see Belzoni himself; he must be very interesting. He is so tall. I like tall men" (casting a glance at my figure, fortunately above six feet). "I am sure men were meant to be much taller than they are. I am quite certain Adam was ten feet high. How tall he must look in his hat." (I suppose she meant Belzoni, not Adam.) "La! how they stuff the hats now! They put a padding in to make them sit on one side. How I did laugh when I saw Captain Shaw's! I thought I should have died. It becomes him very much though, for he is very handsome; but how much better he would look in a Spanish hat and feathers; I wish they were worn in this country, and short satin cloaks and daggers-they are so interesting. What a fuss the Spaniards are making now; they want to have our constitution, and the King won't let them. Oh! I know all about it, for Papa talks about it every morning at breakfast. Papa is so against the radicals: so am I; I can't bear Mr. Hobhouse. I like handsome men," (a glance at me) "though plain men are often very agreeable. Person is nothing, manners are every thing. I'm sure I never know whether men are plain or handsome. I saw such a handsome man in Waterloo street this morning; I can't think who he was. Don't you admire Waterloo street? I like it all but the chapel; I can't bear the chapel, there is such an ugly thing on the top. Architects shouldn't invent such new fancies; they should go abroad and study the models of antiquity. Were you ever in Italy? I should like to go to Venice; it must be so interesting to sail about in a gondola. They say those little beads they make the purses of come from Venice; I can't think how they make them, they are so small. I wonder if Lord Byron will ever come home. How interesting he is! La! what a swimmer he is; only think of his swimming over the Hellespont, which is ten or twelve miles broad, in imitation of some great hero. Oh no; I remember it was some lover of the name of Hero who swam across to see his mistress. How romantic! VOL. II. No. 7.-1821.

M

I like romantic people. Are you romantic? I am very, very romantic indeed. I often stand out in our balcony by moonlight. Captain Shaw does quiz me so about it: he says I'm in love; but I'm sure I'm no such thing."

In this manner, with a great deal of real folly, and I suspect a little affected simplicity, my fair chatterer ran on, much to my amusement, perfectly satisfied with herself, and I believe kindly disposed towards a partner, who, though neither handsome nor in Spanish costume, was yet six feet high, and a patient listener to her rattle.

When I parted from her I walked about for some time, and did not join in another quadrille, till the rooms were sufficiently cleared to admit of comfortable dancing. I heard many scraps of conversation during my lonely wanderings, for lonely I was, according to a very beautiful definition of solitude, since there was not one among all who surrounded me, who,

"If I were not, would seem to smile the less."

There were sad complaints about the heat and the crowding, mingled with languid declarations that it was a most delightful party, and doleful lamentations over the necessity of going to several others the same night; yet it appeared to me that there was something either of pleasure or of pride in the tone in which these double or triple engagements were related.

"I must go to Lady R.'s to-night, cannot escape showing myself for ten minutes. Thank you, I am sorry to say my husband is still very unwell. Dr. Maton saw him this morning, and says he must be kept quiet. You'll come to me on Tuesday? Oh! he'll be well by that time, I hope; besides he won't hear much of the music in his room when the doors are shut. I'm quite surprised to see Mrs. Thompson here to-night. Her son has not been dead three weeks. Such want of feeling is detestable."

"How do you do, Mrs. Marten? How well Miss Marten looks tonight. I declare I believe she is rouged, and her eyes are so brilliant." "Ah! I told her coming out would do her good. She was very ill all the morning, but I made her come with me. Her spirits want raising; that cough is only nervous. She's a strange creature, and dislikes gaiety, but she's only seventeen, and these whims will wear off." "Oh yes, my niece, Charlotte Sinclair, was just the same; would only go out twice a week, and never on a Sunday, and all that nonsense; but her mother, my sister, a very sensible woman, soon cured her; she made her go out every where one season, then took her to Bath, Brighton, and Cheltenham, and she came back so improved, quite a different creature, and now she's never easy at home."

My next partner was what is called a beautiful dancer; her dress was a little shorter than fashion warranted, and I suspect she had given fifteen shillings for her shoes. Her feet moved as if by clockwork, and executed the most astonishing little manœuvres, always stopped and began at the identical moment,

always ended in the very acme of the fifth position, and seemed as if the purpose of their creation had never been fulfilled till, decked in white satin slippers, they were allowed to figure in a quadrille.

Honours brings inconveniences; fame produces the necessity of continued exertion: my present partner proved the truth of these maxims, and was evidently labouring for reputation, not dancing for pleasure. She never spoke a word, and appeared annoyed when I addressed her; her whole attention was given to her employment; and although her flushed cheeks, parted lips, and panting bosom proved that she was hot and tired, yet she would not allow herself even the innocent relaxation of walking a demi queue de chat, or shortening the length of a balance. When the exhibition was over, I supposed I should hear the tone of her voice; but she could only throw herself into a chair, where she continued in a flaming, fanning, panting state for many minutes, while I, in a most orthodox manner, took my seat by her side, and patiently waited her pleasure. When she had recovered, however, instead of paying her old partner any attention, she seemed totally engrossed by the desire for a new one, and continued in a state of visible anxiety till she was assured she should be permitted to produce another fit of fatigue and exhaustion. Then honouring me with a bow and a smile, she hurried away to secure a place in another quadrille, seized, as if by acknowledged right, the situation of prima donna, and seemed impatiently to wait the recommencement of her glorious labours.

The lady to whom I was next introduced might once have been agreeable, and would, perhaps, have continued so to the end of her life, but for a most unfortunate occurrence which took place last summer, an occurrence which I am sure all her acquaintance must bitterly deplore. She spent six weeks in France; and I should suppose, from her conversation, that she will never again know a happy moment in England. She would talk of nothing else. If I observed that the evening was warm, she replied," almost as warm as at a ball I was at last year in Paris;" if I proposed to open a window, she asked if it was a French sash; if I blew my nose she talked of French cambrics; and every one in the room, upon whom I made a remark, was a plain likeness of one of her Parisian acquaintance. Indeed, all her powers of admiration were left on the other side of the channel, or confined to articles imported from thence. I am not speaking of her preference for French silks, French gloves, Leghorn bonnets, and Mechlin lace: these possess a place in every woman's affections, a corner in her heart from which neither duty nor humanity can drive them, where they effectually resist the attacks of law, and the pleadings of patriotism. Doubtless the ladies are in the right; doubtless it is folly to