MR. WHITE,--If I may be permitted to imitate in _my_ exordium, the
happy brevity of the time-saving merchant in auditing _his_ letters, I
will begin by expressing the hope, that "my last of ---- date has been
received and contents duly noted." The excuse for following it up so
speedily with another, is not so easily found. Indeed I know of none,
unless you will accept as such the old plea--"in for a penny, in for a
pound." Even this implies a less risk of censure than I fear my
rashness may very possibly bring upon me. Methinks I already hear some
of your younger readers demand--"what the deuce has such an old
croaker as this impertinent Oliver Oldschool to do with the inroads
that _we_, his juniors and therefore his betters, may choose to make
on any or all of those antiquated manners, customs and fashions which
seem to be the gods of his idolatry? Age, which stamps their value
upon wine and ardent spirits, is precisely _that very thing_ which
renders fashion of no value at all. In _this_, novelty and
unexpectedness are our _grand_, and often our sole desiderata; and for
_their_ attainment, we want neither grey headed matrons, nor grey
bearded old men to advise _us_. What they call _their experience_! (of
which they are so fond of boasting,) if listened to at all, serves
only to cramp and to trammel _our youthful inventions_. Therefore, to
all such we say:--Ladies and Gentlemen, both hands and tongues off, if
you please; _laissez nous faire_--let us alone."
The bare expectation of any such flouting, you will probably say,
should keep me silent, if I was a man of only a moderate degree of
prudence. But like many other obstinate people, my inclination to
persist seems to augment inversely to my chances of success. Maugre
then the danger and forlornness of my undertaking, I must go on. But
before I come to the main purpose of the present letter, pray have
patience with me, while I offer a few more remarks in anticipation of
another still more serious charge, which I expect will be made against
me. I must make them too, with the perfect recollection of the maxim,
that "he who begins to plead before he is accused, knows himself to be
guilty."--True, however, as this may be in general, _my case_, I hope,
will be excepted, after you hear me. The charge to which I allude
is,--the odious one of being _a Cynic_. With _you_, sir, I am very
sure my bare denial would suffice; but you have many readers who know
nothing of me. In deference to _them_ therefore, I feel bound to offer
some stronger proof of my innocence; if that which is of a negative
character (and it is all I can adduce,) will be accepted. Be it known
then, to all whom it may concern, that I, Oliver Oldschool, have
always denied, and do hereby deny, the truth of the most important,
prominent and offensive of all the cynical dogmas, which is,--that
"_men are nothing but monkeys without tails!_" and furthermore, that I
hold myself bound and always ready to make battle in this behalf,
"_pugnis et calcibus, unguibus et rostro_:" and all this too,
notwithstanding the following most startling and humiliating
resemblances which have been traced by the true Cynics between the two
species. For instance--"Man" (say they) "is a biped"--so is a monkey;
at least so nearly one, that his anterior legs serve him admirably
well for arms, and accordingly it is still a mooted point, a much
vexed question among naturalists which to call them, _arms_ or _legs_.
Man generally walks erect, although sometimes, when _top-heavy_, he
moves quadruped fashion. The monkey, at least the kind called the
ourang outang only reverses the practice, by going more frequently on
his two certain and his two quasi legs, than on the two first alone.
Man has a facial angle by which those curious, prying fellows, called
craniologists, measure the degree of his intelligence and infer the
nature of his dispositions. Monkeys also have this angle, often so
nearly the same, (mathematically speaking,) with that which we discern
in many of our race, that few things are more common than to hear the
exclamation "such a one has a monkey face." Lastly, man is most
decidedly and conspicuously _an imitative animal_, so is a monkey, and
in a degree so very striking, that there is scarcely an outward
movement, action, or gesture of ours which his mimetic talents do not
enable him to take off to the life. This is especially true of all
those peculiar airs indicative of self-complacency and vanity which
mark these two races of animals in contradistinction to all others,[1]
and may be termed an idiosyncracy of intellect. The coxcomb's
ineffable smile of fascination; the witling's pert and sudden smirk of
self-conceit; the vain pedant's awkward cachination at his own
ill-timed, out-of-place strokes of classic humor; the despicable
miser's self-gratulating chuckle at inordinate gain; the _great man's_
gracious grin to his supposed inferiors, and the _little man's_
side-shaking, obstreperous laugh at the abortive joke of some superior
from whom he is courting favors; all these and more, your true monkey
can enact with such perfect verisimilitude, that if properly dressed
for the occasion, he might pass off for the real man in each case,
instead of his counterfeit, without the least danger of detection.
_His mimickry_, in addition to its fidelity, has this other remarkable
circumstance about it, that in applying it, he seems to have no
particular choice of objects, but imitates all external actions alike,
whether they be praiseworthy or the reverse. Man, on the contrary, in
the exercise of _his_ imitative propensities, shows too often a
stronger inclination for the bad than the good--for the faulty than
the commendable--for the fantastical and the ridiculous rather than
the becoming. In nothing is this more remarkable, than in the greedy,
ever restless perseverance with which he seeks foreign fashions and
customs, and the reckless pertinacity, under all possible
discouragements, with which he strives to imitate and adopt them. Of
this assertion I have already endeavored to furnish you with some
proofs, which to _me at least_ appeared irrefutable. But I will now
attempt to supply a few more. These also shall consist of remarks on
certain foreign fashions, which may be said to be still under the
process of naturalization, having proved so entirely uncongenial to
our principles, habits and opinions, as not yet to be firmly
established. They may, therefore, be considered as still within the
reach of that exterminating power--public opinion.
[Footnote 1: Goldsmith is the only natural historian, I believe, who
has urged the claim of the goose to a participation in this enviable
human quality, vanity. In his "Animated Nature" he has the following
remark in his natural history of the goose, of which I can give only
the substance, not having the volume before me. Speaking of the action
commonly called "the strutting of the gander," he says: that in _this
situation_, there is probably no animal on the face of the earth more
important in the eyes of another, than a gander in the eyes of a
goose!! Verily, I think, (with due submission) he is mistaken; for a
fully whiskered, well mustached beau, with all his bristly honors
thick upon him, is to a belle, as far above the gander in the
estimation of a goose, as imagination can possibly conceive.]
At the head of these fashions or customs, pre-eminent above the rest,
we find the Conversation Party, the _Soiree_, and the Squeeze. The
first is admitted to be an emigrè from Italy, although the term is
here anglicised; the second is from France, and the third from ----
nobody knows where, unless from our mother country Great Britain; for
Johnson gives both a Saxon and a Welsh etymology to it, both meaning
_to press or crush between two bodies_; which meaning their American
derivative (much to its honor,) has most faithfully preserved.
The conversation party would naturally be deemed by one not in the
secret, a party particularly formed for the pleasures of conversation;
for imparting and receiving agreeable thoughts; for blending amusement
with oral instruction; in a word, for such a voluntary and talented
reciprocation of ideas as would improve the taste, gratify the
feelings, and heighten the mental enjoyment of all the parties
concerned. _Is it this or any thing that bears the slightest
resemblance to it?_ I ask an answer from any individual who has ever
been to one of them, no matter with how much care it might have been
selected. To these parties, such as they really are, I have no
intention here to object. All I wish or aim at now, is, to have them
called by their right names, as every thing ought to be, if we really
desire to confine language to its proper use, which is, to make
ourselves, at all times, clearly understood. But in styling these
things _Conversation Parties_, before persons who had never been at
them, we should practice the grossest deception. For instead of such
an assemblage as the current meaning of the term would lead them to
expect, and might induce them to seek, they would soon find themselves
surrounded by a Babel-like confusion of tongues, where all sorts of
odds and ends of unconnected exclamations and eliptical sentences are
uttered simultaneously, and in the highest vocal key, by every member
of the company--_the mules only_ excepted. Why _they_ should ever
frequent such uncongenial spots, is more, I believe, than any one can
tell. But certain it is that some of them will always be found there,
although as much out of place as the Alumni of the Deaf and Dumb
Asylums would be in Congress Hall, attempting to take a debating part
in that _other_ Tower of Babel, as John Randolph, with his customary
felicity of conception, used to call it.
Of the _Soirée_, I may truly assert that it is an exotic, still so
uncongenial, so illy suited to our people, and even to their organs of
speech, that not one in a thousand has learned so much as to pronounce
its name correctly. Some, even of those who are so far Frenchified as
to have been to France, and consequently to interlard their mother
tongue with unintelligible French phrases, by way of authenticating
the extent of their travels, call it "_Swar-ree_;" as if it were a
place where all the attendants were to have oaths of some sort or
other administered to them, so as to entitle them to be designated
_Sware-rees_. Others again, in a more sportsmanlike manner, pronounce
it _So-ree_, which (as Mr. Jefferson has told us,) is the true Indian
appellative for the Rallus, or water-rail. Such orthoepists, we may
suppose, if asked where they had been, on returning from a party of
the kind, might well answer, in the Virginia sportsman's dialect, "we
have been _so-russ-in_;" for this twistification of the term from its
original meaning would be nothing comparable to many that have been
made by etymologists of the highest reputation. For instance, all
Virginia sportsmen, living near fresh water marshes, know well, that
at _so-russ-in parties_, (as they universally call them,) the great
object is _to kill and eat fat birds_. But a principal object of a
_soirée_ party being _to catch and use_ what may well be figuratively
called _fat birds_, the substitution of the term "_so-russ-in party_"
for a "_soirée party_" is amply justified upon all etymological
principles. I therefore take the liberty of strongly recommending it,
unless our _soirée_-giving gentry would suspend their operations long
enough, at least to learn from some native French teacher how to
invite a French gentleman to their parties, in language that he
himself would understand; since to ask him to a swàr-ree or sò-rée
would be quite unintelligible.
To gratify the curious I have consulted a friend as to the literal
meaning of the French word "_soirée_," (being no French scholar
myself) and find that the term, like thousands of others in all
languages, has been pressed from its original signification into its
present service, by a sort of metonymy, as the rhetoricians call it;
and instead of being applied to designate that portion of the
twenty-four hours which we call _evening_, is now used to express the
receiving of short evening visits on any named day, by one's friends
and acquaintance. This, according to one of Leontine's letters,
published in your February number, seems to be the French fashion. But
we Southerners of these United States, either from ignorance or
design, have so innovated upon the foreign practice, that it would
puzzle a much more experienced man than myself in such matters, to
explain what is to be understood, in Virginia parlance, by _swar-ree_
or _so-ree_, or whatever other barbarous pronunciation they choose to
give the French word. I can only say, that I myself have seen a few
thus variously called, each of which proved a kind of olla podrida or
dish of all sorts; fish, flesh and fowl in _one_ place; a
non-descript, desultory kind of dancing in _another_; all
talking-and-no-listening politicians battling in a _third_; and card
playing, drinking and uproarious mirth in a _fourth part_ of the
general assemblage, wherein were gathered together, as many as could
be, of all sizes and sorts of persons, "ring-streaked, speckled and
spotted" to the full, as much as Laban's flocks themselves. Take
notice, good Mr. Editor, that I am not now daring to _censure_, but
only to _describe_, as well as I can, what my own eyes have beheld. I
am not now "telling tales out of school;" for my school going days
furnished me with no such secrets, however "the march of mind" may
have since disclosed them to other tyroes in the pursuit of education.
The _Squeeze_ I shall endeavor more particularly to describe; since my
reminiscences, although "few and far between," are still so vivid,
that I can venture to delineate them without fear of their suffering,
at least from forgetfulness. It is true that I cannot say, as Æneas
did to queen Dido, of _his_ sufferings at and after the siege of
Troy--"quorum pars _magna_ fui;" as one or two experiments quite
sufficed for me; but I can truly apply the same line to myself, could
I only substitute the word _patiens_ for "_magna_," without too much
offence against the measure of the poetry, and I could then give in my
experience, as the Trojan hero did, in perfect sincerity and good
faith.
Know then, sir, that in the year and month ----, and on a certain
night, I was seduced by curiosity--that fell destroyer of our race--to
go, for the first time, to a party called a Squeeze, in the city of
Washington, denominated by some "the Grand City of O," after the
capital in Cunningham's amusing fiction of "_The World without
Souls_." Being accompanied by one of the initiated, my debut was
readily made as others made theirs. Without material obstruction we
were ushered through the passage by the escorting valet; but when we
reached the door of the principal pressing and crushing room, _hic
labor, hoc opus est!_ here commenced that series of efforts and
struggles which was not soon to end, as I afterwards found, to the no
small detriment of various parts of my body and limbs. Through this
door also, my entrance was at last effected; for what obstacle may not
perseverance overcome? A strong effort of my own in the van, and the
unsolicited aid in the rear of those who, like myself, wished to see
all that was to be seen, very soon protruded me "_in medias res_,"
which I beg leave to render in idiomatic English--"up to the hub" in
the business. Not many minutes however elapsed, before the pressing
and crushing became so intense as to excite an earnest desire for a
change both of place and posture. Accordingly I bent my course towards
another room, having understood there were several prepared for _the
accommodation!_ (strange misnomer, thought I,) of the company. This
joint removal of body and limbs, which I had a particular fancy should
not be disunited, having kept company with each other from my birth, I
found toilsome and oppressive in no ordinary degree. For the instant I
began to move I was met by a strong counter-current composed of a
compact mass of my co-squeezers and squeezees--many of whom were of
such "breadth and heft" as would verily have done great honor to a
Massachusett's cattle show of the highest grade, had the subjects only
been quadrupeds instead of bipeds, and in equal condition for market.
A forcible entry having been made into another room, I found myself
standing within a few inches of a strange but very lovely young lady.
She also was standing, apparently to execute _her_ part of a
cotillion, within a circle which the united pushing and shoving of the
eight operatives required for the dance, had not been vigorous enough
to enlarge beyond a diameter of some six or seven feet. Being
compelled to stand immediately behind her, my eyes naturally fell upon
her shoulders, which the dominant fashion then required to be
literally half naked. With equal pain and wonderment I observed, that
by some invisible machinery, the circulation of the blood was so
checked on the visible side of the shoulder strap, as to give a livid
appearance to the contiguous skin; while the opposite edges of the
_scapulæ_ (I would not for the world, in such a case, say
_shoulder-blades_,) were forced as near touching as they could be
without dislocation. _This_, thought I to myself, must surely be a
fashion invented by some bright etherial genius, regardless of bodily
suffering, for a squeeze; since its adaptation to _that_ object could
not admit of a doubt--an adaptation, by the way, more complete, beyond
comparison, than the present much admired, although evidently
incompatible fashion of the bishop sleeves.[2] True, there seemed to
be no small loss in shoulder comfort; but the manifest gain in bodily
compression, that grand desideratum in a squeeze, to which all else
must be sacrificed, appeared far to overbalance it, since according to
the best off-hand calculation I could make, ten bodies with their
appendant limbs thus prepared, could readily be wedged into a space
which before would suffice only for nine, dressed after any previous
fashion. But what is there too arduous, too great, for the matchless
genius of our fair countrywomen, when stimulated by an adequate cause,
and exercised upon a suitable subject!!
[Footnote 2: Most, if not all of our fair countrywomen, have vainly
supposed _this_ to be quite a modern fashion; but that it is nothing
more than an old one revived, and as ancient as the days of the
Prophet Ezekiel, when it was all the rage, is indisputably proved by
the 18th verse of his 13th chapter. There, the good old man, in all
the bitterness of his heart, exclaims--"Wo! to _the women that sew
pillows to all arm holes_, and make kerchiefs upon the head of every
structure, to hunt souls!!"]
Although I felt much for the poor girls thus trussed, thus
cross-hobbled, I resolved to wait a few moments to witness the "_modus
operandi_" of this exhilarating dance, which, judging by all the
methods that I had ever seen, required for its performance a circle at
least three times as large as the one then before me. I knew too,
enough of the prevalent fashion of dancing cotillions to be aware,
that its most stylish mode then consisted in a kind of alert vigorous
movement, which was most truly but somewhat coarsely called, "kicking
out." This, it was manifest, could not _there_ be executed according
to the law "in that case made and provided," without imminent danger
to the anterior tibiæ of the legs--in vulgar parlance, the
"shin-bones" of the parties concerned. It was therefore with much
apprehension of the danger, at least to "the woman kind," that I
awaited the incipient gesticulations of this cotillion party. My fears
were soon relieved, by perceiving that the _operatives_ had
substituted, with admirable ingenuity, a kind of lackadaisical
slipping, sliding, flat-footed motion, which completely guarded them
from the danger I had most ignorantly and unnecessarily anticipated.
To be sure it no more resembled the lively animating exercise, called
_dancing_ in my boyish days, than the dreamy motions of the
somnambulist do the elastic springs of the wide awake tight rope
dancer. But it possessed the rare merit of perfectly adapted means to
ends, and I could ask no more; for Harlequin himself could hardly have
done better under similar duresse. By the way, Mr. Editor, I have been
told that this somnambulizing motion has now become the very "tip-top"
of the mode in all kinds of dancing,--the waltz and the
horse-galloping dances only excepted. In this change the arbiters and
reformers of our fashions seem to have displayed much more wisdom than
we usually find exerted in matters of the kind, since it is the all
levelling political principle carried out into our social amusements;
for it places the active and the clumsy on a footing (if you will
pardon a pun,) of perfect equality, the smooth and even tenor of which
is never disturbed; unless when some credulous sexagenarian is
over-persuaded to perpetrate the folly of turning out to dance among a
party of girls and boys. _They_ make a laughing stock of him, while
_he_, in the sincerity of his heart, and with all the fast perishing
vigor of his limbs, _caricatures_ (for he can do nothing more,) the
athletic cuts and shuffles of the by-gone century, to which nothing
could possibly do anything like justice but an uncommon degree both of
youthful vigor and activity. That you, sir, who are quite too young to
have any personal knowledge of these important matters, may be sure
that I do not exaggerate in making this last assertion, it will
suffice to inform you, that the most celebrated steps of that
time,--steps, which if perfectly executed, always stampt the
performers as first rate dancers--were styled, in the metaphorical
language of those merry making days, "forked lightning" and "chicken
flutter" for the gentlemen, and "heel and toe" and "cross-shuffle" for
the ladies. The first I confess, was rather "a far-fetched metaphor,"
to say the least of it; but the other three appellations were as
perfectly appropriate as could well be conceived. It might also be
truly affirmed of all, that there was nothing in any of them, in the
slightest degree indecorous, as in the waltz and gallopade; for it
seemed not then to have been imagined that _dancing_ could be
perverted to any such purpose as the excitation of highly culpable
sentiments.
If you will pardon this digression, sir, in consideration that old men
will be garrulous and prosing, I will now squeeze you back from the
dancing-room to the one first entered, and with somewhat less
difficulty, I hope, than I myself encountered.
There I was immediately attracted by a conspicuous gathering of
_heads_; of bodies I could see none, except those in juxtaposition. It
was drawn together, as I conjectured, by something rather beyond the
common spectacles of the night. Being determined to have my share of
the sight, I forced my way near enough to behold, in the midst of a
circle not much larger than a hogshead hoop, a tall young lady,
elegantly dressed, (that is as far as perfect conformity to the
fashion could make her so) and quite a good figure, but too much
"drawn" (as the racers say) in the waist. And what, think you, was her
employment? Why--attitudinizing and thumping away most theatrically
upon a tambourine! This was the finishing stroke--the finale of my
squeeze-going days, or rather _nights_; and I hastened to squeeze
myself _out_, with much more alacrity than I had squeezed myself
_in_--marvelling all the way as I rode home with my equally surfeited
companion, at the frequency with which we call actual and severe
toils, _pleasures_; and at the innumerable contrivances to which the
devotees of the latter resort intentionally, as we must presume, to
gain, but in reality to mar, their object. Of these contrivances I had
just swallowed my first and last dose, as I then designed it to be, of
the one called _a Squeeze_; a contrivance which seemed to me
altogether matchless in its unsuitability of means to ends; that is,
if it was really designed for _a party of pleasure!_ for after one or
two hours most diligent search, I had utterly failed in finding a
single spot, where even one individual could either _sit_, _stand_ or
_walk_, with the slightest degree of convenience or comfort!!
To give you a still better idea of the supreme folly justly
attributable to such plain country folks as myself, for venturing into
places so entirely unsuitable to us, I will conclude this long epistle
by relating a real incident once told to me by a gentleman who had it
from the sufferer himself.
Some years ago a kind of "Hickory Quaker," (as he called himself,) but
whose real name it is needless to mention, found his way, "par
hazard," from one of the middle States to Congress. Being thus ranked
among the honorables of the land, it was not long before he received
an invitation to a _Squeeze_. His intense curiosity to see something
of which he could not, from the name, form the slightest conception,
got the better of his prudence, and he very rashly determined to go;
although, as he afterwards confessed, in relating his mishaps, not
without many misgivings which he with difficulty suppressed. On
consulting one or two of his friends, who were already initiated into
all the mysteries of squeezes, as to the proper time to go, the only
information given was, "_be sure not to be the first of the company_."
This injunction relieved him of much of his apprehension, being very
confident of his power to fulfil it. His confidence however, proved
too overweening, for having waited and waited until his usual bed hour
at home, the sudden fear seized him of erring in the contrary extreme,
and finding the party broken up. Under this impression he hurried off,
in his best Quaker dress, as fast as his _legs_ could carry him, for
taking _a hack_ was out of the question. Having soon arrived, he
knocked loudly at the door with his knuckles, not being yet cognizant
of the bell-bolt contrivance,--demanding, at the same time, in his
customary way, "who keeps the house?" The opening of the door
immediately followed, and he was about to enter; but the finely
dressed servant whom he mistook for the master of the house,
manifesting, not only much surprise, but some strong symptoms of
resistance, friend Ephraim (as I beg leave to call him,) deemed it
best to say--"I have some particular business with the lady, who sent
for me herself." This at once proved an "_open sesamè_," and in he
marched, putting as bold a face on the matter as he could, and
anxiously hoping to find, in a few minutes, some friends to keep him
in countenance. But alas! it is not in man that liveth, to form hopes
which shall not be disappointed; for upon being ushered into the
lady's presence, he found her, to his utter astonishment, entirely
alone, and looking at him as a perfect stranger; and well she might,
having never cast eyes on him before. This most unexpected occurrence,
this jumping, as it were, out of the frying-pan into the fire, so
utterly confounded him, that he was very near taking to his heels with
all possible speed, and escaping by the way he came, if he could find
no shorter exit. Luckily however, he bethought him of producing his
credentials for admission, which he had most fortunately slipped into
his pocket, being yet ignorant of the fashion of leaving it in his
room, as if through carelesness, but in reality to display the extent
of his honors, so far as these depend upon the number of one's
visiting acquaintance. The exhibition of his ticket instantly put
matters to rights; the lady's countenance brightened up with smiles
ineffable; he was overwhelmed with apologies for not knowing him,
although greatly did he marvel how she should; and so much pleasure
and happiness was expressed at his having honored her party by his
presence, that he began to ask himself, with infinite
self-complacency, whether there might not _really be_, as he had heard
when a boy, such a thing as "_love at first sight_." The repetition
however, of nearly the identical expressions to every gentleman who
afterwards entered, brought to his mind the mortifying conviction,
either that the boyish tale was false, or that his hostess must be in
love with every gentleman of the company, which he at once pronounced
impossible.
Until more company arrived, our quaker friend found himself in a sad
predicament; for having no plausible excuse for escape, and deeming
himself bound, at least to try to entertain the lady with some kind of
conversation, he sat many minutes pondering over the few topics on
which he thought himself able to converse, but finding none that
exactly pleased him, he at length resolved to hazard something about
cabbages, and peas, and poultry; shrewdly imagining that such matters
would be more amusing, as well as instructive to her, than any
contained in his "knowledge box." Great was his pleasure and
wonderment to find her perfectly at home as to all these mysteries; so
much so, indeed, that he could hardly suppress the exclamation, "Oh!
that my old woman knew half as much." All things, however, must have
an end, although friend Ephraim began to fear that the tête à tête
between the lady and himself never would; and when their chat was fast
dying away, like the flickering blaze in the nearly empty socket of a
candlestick, suddenly the doors were thrown open, and in rushed
pellmell, such a mixed multitude, as struck him with speechless
astonishment. Very soon (as he himself described the scene,) he had to
abandon his seat; and according to his notions of politeness, was
every moment making room, first for one stranger and then for another,
without having time so much as casually to shake the hand of an
acquaintance, before they were thrust apart. Thus elbowed, and shoved,
and bumped about on every side, and not knowing how to keep out of
every body's way, which seemed a physical impossibility, he found
himself, at last, most unexpectedly squeezed into the midst of a party
altogether of ladies, whose united voices raised such an
unintelligible din, as brought to his recollection what he had read in
his Bible, about the confusion of tongues at the tower of Babel.
Resolutely bent, however, upon "seeing the show out," he determined to
persevere. But, at the same time, having the accommodation of others
much at heart, he resolved to try a yet unessayed position, by way of
making himself as small as possible. This was to thrust his hands
behind him, the first moment space enough was given for the purpose;
at the same time straightening his arms as much as practicable, and
grasping one wrist with the other hand, to secure their union. He had
but a few seconds for self-congratulation upon so ingenious a device,
before some sudden, undesigned impetus in front, forced him back, so
that his hand was pressed against something hard. Of this he
involuntarily took hold, but without turning his head; that indeed
being impracticable. He mistook this hard article (as he afterwards
found to his cost,) for the end of a narrow shingle, although for the
life of him he could not imagine why, or how it got there, as he had
seen nothing like building going on about the premises. Scarcely,
however, had he taken hold of it, before it was forcibly jerked from
his grasp, and his hands were once more disengaged. His conjectures as
to what it could possibly be, were still puzzling his brain, when a
fierce Pendragon sort of a fellow, whiskered and mustached to the very
tip of his nose, forced his way to him through the dense mass by which
he was surrounded, and in a very authoritative, menacing tone, told
him that Mrs. ---- desired to see him. He obeyed the mandate as
speedily as possible, but in mortal dread and astonishment as to the
cause of it. The moment he reached his hostess, she demanded, with a
look of indescribable indignation, "how he dared to insult a lady in
her house?" Thunderstruck, as it were, at the accusation, for a few
moments he was deprived of speech. But at length recovering the use of
his tongue, he averred and protested, and affirmed, that he was
utterly unconscious of having committed any such outrage; an outrage
which he was altogether incapable of perpetrating. This so far
appeased the lady's wrath, as to produce an awkward and embarrassing
explanation on both sides, by which it was discovered, that the
supposed shingle end had been, in reality, the projecting end of a
lady's corset bone, unluckily squeezed out of place, in the general
pressing and crushing of the crowd. The conference ended in the lady's
being satisfied, and in our worthy quaker resolving from the very
bottom of his heart, never again to trust himself in any place under
the sun, be the temptation what it might, wherein he could not find a
safe place, even for his hands!