“I will go to this ball,” said I, and immediately confirmed my determination by writing an acceptance. “I will go, I will rust no longer. Why should I suffer myself to grow mouldy, and hide my light under a bushel, when I might illume, perhaps dazzle, the gay world with my brightness?” I said this, being in a particularly self-satisfied mood, for that morning I had made one dollar, and had the money, the hard specie, in my pocket. Any young man, who is beginning to make his own living, will appreciate my self-satisfaction, for he well knows the pleasure—how great it is—which is experienced from the first fruits of his own exertion, however small they may be.
The ball was to take place in a week, and in the interim, wherever I went, I heard nothing else talked of. Everybody was going—and everybody was full of it. How glad was I that I had accepted! Everybody seemed determined on making an impression, for everybody was planning and arranging, and their lives, for that week, were bound up in the ball—the ball was the end to which their whole present existence was directed. Never since my childhood, on the occasion of an annual visit to the theatre, had I looked forward to any thing with such delightful anticipations as to this ball. What blessings did I not invoke upon the united heads of Mrs. and Mr. Bell, as I heard of some new contrivance for the pleasure of those who were to be their guests on this great occasion. To think that I was going, was happiness enough. I am afraid I did not pay so much attention as I ought to my business. I may have neglected it, but I could not help it.
The week passed. The day of the ball came. The evening—almost the hour. People were beginning to prepare themselves. Not more than time enough remained for me to make my toilet. Many a lady was by this time fully arrayed, and doubtless many a gentleman.
Then it was that I experienced one of those dreadful revulsions of feeling, which no words can describe, and which only those who possess an extraordinary share of moral courage can bear up under. If the sun had gone out at noonday, I should not have been more overwhelmed; if I had waked some morning, and found myself a husband and a father, I should not have wondered more.
I had no clothes to wear!
The moment which brought me to the verge of an earthly Elysium, which was to be introductory to an age of delights, had arrived, and not a decent coat, not a passable pair of pants, not even a respectable pair of boots. I might have known it all before. O fool! fool! I should have wept if I had had any tears to shed; but I had none. My excess of feeling was beyond tears. I sat down like one dumb and stricken. I had clean shirts, and though they had often served me in good stead, they would do me no good now. What could have possessed me, that, on this occasion, when I needed it so much, I should have neglected to provide myself with proper attire? I might as well be in Patagonia without any clothes, as here with my shabby ones.
The clock struck nine. The ball must have begun; and I fancied the gay music, the bright throng, and the sound of dancing feet, and almost smiled as I fancied, the fancy was so pleasant. I tried to reason with myself. Supposing I had not forgotten the clothes, how could I have paid for a new suit, with but one dollar in my pocket? (I hadn’t earned a cent since the day I received the invitation.) Oh! approved credit was as good as money. I had been on tick before now, and might do so again. It was no comfort to think what I might have done. What could be done now? Buying was out of the question; all the money in the world could not in a moment have procured me a new suit. Borrowing? That was out of the question. Whose coats would fit me, and who was there to borrow from? Everybody had gone—gone to the ball.
To the melancholy conclusions of my reasoning succeeded what would, in a child, have been called a temper-fit; and it was no more or less in me. I swore audibly. I wilfully, intentionally, and maliciously kicked over a table, thereby doing serious detriment to its contents, for a glass lamp being broken by the fall, they, together with the carpet, were covered with a plentiful sprinkling of oil. I nearly put the fire out by giving it a severe poking, broke a penknife by energetic use, and if there had been a bell-rope, (I didn’t enjoy the luxury of a bell,) I should have broken that.
Then came a calm; a calm which proceeded from a resolution I had suddenly taken—to go, at any rate.
When Cinderella stood by the magnificent equipage which was to take her to the king’s palace, she reflected upon the inconsistency of her mean apparel, with the gorgeousness before her, and that she was about to encounter. “What,” sighed she, “and must I go thither in these dirty, nasty rags?” Scarcely had she spoken, when her godmother, who was a fairy, touched her with her wand, and in an instant her rags were changed into the most beautiful robes ever beheld by mortal woman.