BY W. LANDOR.
———
“This is certainly the most charming opera that was ever produced,” said Mrs. Althorp, as the curtain fell after the first act of Sonnambula, and she turned round to entertain the company in her box; “yet, after all, what an absurdity it is! However, I must remember that I am growing old.”
“Pardon me,” said Mr. Hartford, who sat behind her, “elegance and beauty have no age.”
“Surely elegance has its Age, and it is that in which Mr. Hartford lives.”
“Mrs. Althorp’s fiat has, indeed, such potency that it can make even me, in fact at least, the model of elegance.”
“My stamp,” she replied, “like that of the mint, only ascertains the value of the metal.”
“But, in the mint of fashion which you administer, there is such a seignorage as makes the coin far more valuable than the bullion.”
“Mr. Hartford, you talk operas,” said Mrs. Althorp, who knew she could never beat him in the charming absurdities of compliment, and was willing to retire from the contest.
“What do you think of the Prima Donna to-night?” said Miss Stanhope.