The young gentlemen might wear appended to the third button-hole of the left breast, epigrammatical notices of ‘THE EXPECTATIONS’ in which they so generally abound, as follows:
- Uncle Asa has the phthisick, I am his heir.
- As I STAND, less my tailor’s bill of $1800.
- Plenty of Lots, covered partly with water, partly with parchment.
- In full and successful business, owing only four times our capital, due us five times, chiefly in Mississippi. Expect to retire in two years and enjoy life.
- Two-and-six-pence in my pocket, with great but indefinable hopes.
- A promising young member of the Bar. Three suits;—☞
- one of them in court. Grant me my fourth!
A young lady, whose nice tact and discriminating judgment are only rivalled by her sweetness of disposition and exquisite personal attractions, has divided the world of beaux into three generick classes:
- The Rich who are afraid of us;
- The Poor whom we are afraid of;
- The Detrimentalists.
The plan I propose would aid manifestly in the due classification of all assistants at a ball. It is not to be thought that the sex is governed by any mercenary motive; but in the present organization of society a certain degree of attention to the mode in which matrimonial establishments are to be sustained is absolutely imperative.
Conceive then Mr. Editor how this explicit course would remove the ordinary impediments on both sides. One single tour de Valse and the whole affair might be adjusted! The gentleman forsakes the lady’s eyes and fixes his own upon her tiara; she hers upon his eloquent button-hole. During the slow movement they have deciphered the mottoes, have ascertained, (no small desideratum in a crowded ball-room!) each the exact value of his or her partner; they have arrived in thought, as far as mere expediency goes, each at a decision; and are ready for question and answer at the close of the accelerated step.
By the way, as the waltz is now conducted, the employment of the eyes during the slow sentimental movement seems frequently to the lady a matter of some degree of embarrassment; and the method I propose would effectually remove any thing of the sort. There could be no want of an object on which to rest them; no looking with a fixed gaze over the partner’s shoulder; no consulting of the cornice; no care-fraught expression; no reluctant or displeased look, as if the lady would have fain declined; no indeterminate thoughts, no indefinite sensations; no languishment; and above all never more the portentous, the ominous look which often in that entrancing dance exhibits to us the mysticism of the Sybil, without one ray of her inspiration.
No; then would the lady look, read, decide, and dance the while. ‘This might do!’—then would she sparkle. ‘Ah this would never do!’—then would she become placid, tranquil, and complete her tour with contentment; for as I think some one else has before me wisely observed, the end of doubt is the beginning of repose. Then would the faces of the ladies generally become vastly more attractive than at present during the enjoyment of the waltz; for singular as may seem the remark, although I have assisted at several New-York balls, I have met two countenances only throughout the whole galaxy of beauty that, in dancing the Waltz, have indicated either joy or undisturbed gratification: the one, is that of a little sylph-like beam of pleasure, who might well carry upon her beautiful hair, ‘unincumbered lots,’ as her wedding-portion; who gains our hearts while she laughs at us; and who, because I chance to be within half a score of her father’s years, threatens to call me her vieux chéri—while the name of the other, if I dared write it, would recall the most tasteful and fashionable costumes of France, with the sweetest poetry of Scotland.
But alas my master! I have gone prattling on without saying a word of my own pretensions until my letter has gained such a length that I am forced to defer them to another number, while I subscribe myself, dear Mr. Editor of the Knickerbocker,
Your most faithful servant,