The invitation we resolved to honor was from one of the foreign ministers. Of course I expected that there would be a good many religious people there, and, as I hadn't mingled much with persons who were over pious for some time, I anticipated a refreshing season; for a foreign minister must have a noble missionary spirit, and, no doubt, came to Washington on purpose to reform the members of Congress, which is a work of Christian mercy, if ever there was one.
For this reason, my spiritual nature was aroused, and I was burning with desire to help in the noble cause, and let foreign nations know that we had women in this country that could be at once brilliant and devout, celebrated and conscientious; in fact, women who could gracefully combine two characters, hitherto supposed to be opposite.
Yes, I was resolved to go to this ministerial reunion. Had I not been at Mr. King's literary gathering, which lifted me, as it were, out of a frivolous, fashionable life into the purely intellectual, and now, should I refuse to bathe my soul in the purer element of high Christian fervor? No, a thousand times no!
On a religious occasion like this, I felt that a modest dress—simple black alpaca, for instance, with a pink bow at the neck—would be about the thing; but Cousin E. E. got almost huffy about it.
"Why," says she, "at the Foreign Minister's a full toilet is expected, always. It is but proper respect."
"Cousin," says I, "no one can have more respect for the ministerial functions than I have; no one ever attended meeting more faithfully. Am I not a missionary myself? Do you think I would or could fall short of the mark of the prize of the high calling? If alpaca isn't the thing, I am open to reason and pink silk."
"That will do," says she, a-brightening up, "looped up with black velvet and bows, and décolletté."
"Dic o' nonsense?" says I, riling a little.
"Well, low neck and short sleeves," says she.
"At a meeting of ministers?" says I. "Cousin E. E., are you crazy?"