“Do you not have snow in London, my lord?”
“Yes, sometimes; but then we haven’t any pungs. I don’t know what they are. Maybe they are a sort of hackney or chariot?”
“We have no hackney coaches here, as yet, my lord, but Mr. Hancock and the governor and a few of our citizens have coaches. A pung is not at all like a coach. It is, instead, a sort of box on runners.”
“Oh, indeed, how interesting!”
“May I ask, my lord, what recreations you have in London?”
“We have quite a variety, I assure you, Miss Newville. We have card parties, where we play high or low, just as we feel. We have assemblies, where we tittle-tattle and gossip. We gentlemen lay bets on the winning horse at the next Derby. We go to Drury Lane or Covent Garden, and clap our hands at the acting of Davy Garrick or Jimmy Quin. At the opera we go wild when Mademoiselle Truffi soars like a nightingale up to high C. We dance at balls, array ourselves as harlequins and imps at masquerades, and see who can carry off the most bottles of port or sherry at dinner,” said his lordship, again laughing.
“Are you not jesting, my lord?”
“Oh no, Miss Newville; I am telling you sober truth. It is not exaggeration at all. For instance, the masquerade which the Duke and Duchess of Richmond gave on the king’s last birthday was so gay that I can hardly hope to picture it. The duke’s villa is on the banks of the Thames. The willows, elms, and oaks in the park were hung with lanterns, the house was all ablaze—lights in every room. Dukes, duchesses, earls, barons, lords, and ladies—more than six hundred—assembled in masquerade dress. The Duchess of Hamilton and Argyle was hostess. She appeared as Night, with a black trailing robe illuminated with silver stars, while her father was dressed as a footman, with the portrait of his other daughter dangling from a ribbon tied to a button of his jacket.”
“Was it not rather out of character for a man old enough to be grave and dignified to take such a part?” Miss Newville asked.
“Perhaps so, but then we are expected to do absurd things in masquerade. Her grace the Duchess of Richmond, for instance, appeared as the Sultana of Persia, in a costume purchased in the bazaar of Bagdad. The Duchess of Grafton displayed her charms as Cleopatra. Now when we remember that Egypt and the Orient have a climate in which a person can get along without any great amount of clothing, it really does seem somewhat absurd for a lady, in a country with a climate like that of England, to attempt to imitate in dress, or undress, that celebrated queen of the East.”