 | THE LORGNETTE. The lorgnette, or, Studies of the town |  |
CORRESPONDENCE.
I shall publish without any prefatory remarks,
the following letter from a lady: if I might, however,
be permitted to judge from a certain gracefulness
of expression, and an indescribable under-lying
of the savoir-faire, I should say that it came, not
only from the hands of an accomplished lady, but
from one who is perfectly familiar with the improprieties
of the town.
It has been hinted to me that you are an old
friend of my former husband; if you are, I wish you
would do me the favor to call; any little remembrances
of the dear, good man are most satisfying.
I want to tell you, too, how much I approve your
work; your judicious remarks upon taste, I cannot
praise high enough. I have long felt the want of
just such a book as you propose. As for the polka,
you've said just what you ought to say; it's a positive
shame, the way our young folks do go on in
these matters! Only to think that my little cousin
Polly went so far the other evening as to lay her
head outright on a gentleman's shoulder, out of
boil in my body!
I've talked with my clergyman about it, a dear,
good man, (are you a clergyman?) who makes long
parochial calls. He says it's `an abomination,' and
he quoted a passage from scripture, but I have forgotten
it.
I wish you'd say something about the way some
people hold up their clothes at the street-crossings;
its growing worse and worse; and I see they are
beginning to trim off their drawers with delicate
lace edgings,—as if such things were expected to be
looked at, except by the chaste eyes of servant
maids, and little poodles!
Do go on, Mr. Timon—you seem to me to be a
sober, rational minded old gentleman; and since
my dear husband's death, I have met with very few
of that sort.
Another letter which has come to hand, as my
paper is going to press, appears to be from a
vivacious young lady, of quick parts. She writes:
I wish you would let me know who you are:—
do; I think I could give you some capital hints; you
know a lady knows a great deal that a gentleman
never can know, try as hard as he may. Besides,
I should like amazingly to dance a polka with you;
I know from the way you write about it, that you
must understand it a great deal better than the
fussy little fellows who almost pull me over, and
havn't got an idea of the spirit of the thing. A
lady wants some sort of support,—doesn't she? I
think you could give it, and not be pushing one
about against the wall-flowers, and getting dizzy
and stupid.
I and my cousin go to nearly all the balls; and
though there won't be any but Presbyterian ones,
now that Lent has come in, still I know some real
gay blues, who dance as mad as any Episcopalians.
I'll introduce you, and we'll have some capital
times.
I've got an aunt, who says such witty things!
Do let me know who you are. I'm not a bit afraid
to send you my address; wont you call in the morning?
There are a half dozen fellows from the New
York Club, that come in every evening. I want to
tell you something about them; they do say such
stupid things!
Do you visit Madame T—? Try to. It's a delightful
place;—such splendid oyster suppers! I
don't care if you print this; only if you do,punctuate
it, and correct the spelling. I'm so familiar
with French, that I misspell my English half the
time. Don't talk hard about the Home Journal;
it's a love of a paper! I've written a letter for it
that's going to be published by-and-by.
I am most sorry to be compelled to withdraw
my claim to Lucia's acquaintance. I am sure she
must be a love of a girl; but Tophanes is her man,
and I shall hand over to him the necessary documents.
Nothing makes me regret my age and
baldness so much as these little kind testimonials,
from genteel young women! Still, Fritz, we can
be young on paper;—and so, thank God, I will be
young! and my pen shall dance its weekly fandango,
as lively as the liveliest of the polka striplings,
—though the rheumatics are warping my shoulder-blades,
and age is wintering my beard with gray!
| THE LORGNETTE. The lorgnette, or, Studies of the town | |