Spent six consecutive weeks without stoppin
In one continuous round of shopping;
Shopping alone, and shopping together,
At all hours of the day, and in all sorts of weather,
For all manner of things that a woman can put
On the crown of her head or the sole of her foot,
Or
wrap round her shoulders or fit round her waist,
Or that can be sewed on, or pinned on, or laced,
Or tied on with a string, or stitched on with a bow,
In front or behind-above or below:
For bonnets, mantillas, capes, collars, and shawls;
Dresses for breakfasts, and dinners, and balls;
Dresses to sit in, and stand in, and walk in;
Dresses to dance in, and flirt in, and talk in;
Dresses in which to do nothing at all;
Dresses for winter, spring, summer, and fall;
All of them different in colour and pattern-
Silk, muslin, and lace, crape, velvet, and satin;
Brocade, and broadcloth, and other material,
Quite as expensive, and much more ethereal:
In short, for all things that could ever be thought of,
Or milliner, modiste, or tradesman be bought of.
I should mention just here, that out of Miss Flora's
Two hundred and fifty or sixty adorers,
I had just been selected as he who should throw all
The rest in the shade, by the gracious bestowal
On myself, after twenty or thirty rejections,
Of those fossil remains which she called "her affections."
So we were engaged. Our troth had been plighted,
Not by moonbeam, nor starbeam, by fountain or grove,
But in a front parlour, most brilliantly lighted,
Beneath the gas fixtures we whispered our love.
Without any romance, or raptures, or sighs,
Without any tears in Miss Flora's blue eyes;
Or blushes, or transports, or such silly actions,
It was one of the quietest business transactions;
With a very small sprinkling of sentiment, if any,
And a very large diamond, imported by Tiffany.
Well, having thus wooed Miss M'Flimsey and gained her,
With the silks, crinolines, and hoops that contained her,
I had, as I thought, a contingent remainder
At least in the property, and the best right
To appear as its escort by day and by night;
And it being the week of the Stuckups' grand ball—
Their cards had been out a fortnight or so,
And set all the Avenue on the tiptoe-
I considered it only my duty to call
And see if Miss Flora intended to go.
I found her-as ladies are apt to be found,
When the time intervening between the first sound
Of the bell and the visitor's entry is shorter
Than usual-I found (I wont say, I caught) her
Intent on the pier-glass, undoubtedly meaning
To see if, perhaps, it didn't need cleaning.
She turned, as I entered-" Why, Harry, you sinner,
I thought that you went to the Flashers' to dinner!"
"So I did," I replied; "but the dinner is swallowed,
And digested, I trust, for 'tis now nine and more;
So being relieved from that duty, I followed
Inclination, which led me, you see, to your door.
And now, will your ladyship so condescend
As just to inform me if you intend
Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend
(All which, when I own, I hope no one will borrow)
To the Stuckups', whose party, you know, is to-morrow ?"
The fair Flora looked up with a pitiful air,
And answered quite promptly, "Why, Harry, mon cher,
I should like above all things to go with you there;
But really and truly-I've nothing to wear!"
Nothing to wear! Go just as you are:
Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far,
I engage, the most bright and particular star
On the Stuckup horizon." She turned up her nose
(That pure Grecian feature), as much as to say,
"How absurd that any sane man should suppose
That a lady would go to a ball in the clothes,
No matter how fine, that she wears every day!" So I ventured again-" Wear your crimson brocade." (Second turn up of nose)-" That's too dark by a shade." "Your blue silk"-"That's too heavy;" "Your pink""That's too light."
"Wear tulle over satin ". -"I can't endure white."
"Your rose-coloured, then, the best of the batch"
'I haven't a thread of point lace to match."
"Your brown moire-antique"-"Yes, and look like a Quaker:" "The pearl-coloured"—"I would, but that plaguy dressmaker Has had it a week.' "Then that exquisite lilac,
In which you would melt the heart of a Shylock."
(Here the nose took again the same elevation)
'I wouldn't wear that for the whole of creation."
"Why not? It's my fancy, there's nothing could strike it As more comme il faut
"Yes, but dear me, that lean Sophronia Stuckup has got one just like it, And I wont appear dressed like a chit of sixteen:" "Then that splendid purple, that sweet mazarine; That superb point d'aiguille, that imperial green, That zephyr-like tarletane, that rich grenadine""Not one of all which is fit to be seen,"
Said the lady, becoming excited and flushed.
"Then wear," I exclaimed in a tone which quite crushed
Opposition, "that gorgeous toilette which you sported
In Paris last Spring, at the grand presentation,
When you quite turned the head of the head of the nation.
And by all the grand court were so very much courted."
The end of the nose was portentously turned up,
And both the bright eyes shot forth indignation,
As she burst upon me with the fierce exclamation,
"I have worn it three times at the least calculation,
And that, and the most of my dresses, are ripped up!"
Here I ripped out something, perhaps rather rash,
Quite innocent, though; but, to use an expression
More striking than classic, it "settled my hash,'
And proved very soon the last act of our session. "Fiddlesticks, is it, sir? I wonder the ceiling
Doesn't fall down and crush you. Oh! you men have no feeling!
You selfish, unnatural, illiberal creatures!
Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers.
Your silly pretence-why, what a mere guess it is!
Pray, what do you know of a woman's necessities ?
I have told you and shown you I've nothing to wear,
And it's perfectly plain you not only don't care,
But you do not believe me" (here the nose went still higher),
I suppose if you dared, you would call me a liar.
Our engagement is ended, sir-yes, on the spot;
You're a brute and a monster, and-I don't know what."
I mildly suggested the words-Hottentot,
Pickpocket, and cannibal, Tartar and thief,
As gentle expletives which might give relief:
But this only proved as spark to the powder,
And the storm I had raised came faster and louder ;
It blew, and it rained, thundered, lightened, and hailed
Interjections, verbs, pronouns, till language quite failed
To express the abusive; and then its arrears
Were brought up all at once by a torrent of tears;
And my last faint, despairing attempt at an obs-
Ervation was lost in a tempest of sobs.
Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat too.
Improvised on the crown of the latter a tattoo,
In lieu of expressing the feelings which lay
Quite too deep for words, as Wordsworth would say;
Then, without going through the form of a bow,
Found myself in the entry-I hardly knew how-
On door-step and sidewalk, past lamp-post and square,
At home and upstairs in my own easy chair;
Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze,
And said to myself, as I lit my cigar,
Supposing a man had the wealth of the Czar
Of the Russias to boot, for the rest of his days,
On the whole, do you think he would have much to spare,
If he married a woman with nothing to wear?
Since that night, taking pains that it should not be bruited Abroad in society, I've instituted
A course of inquiry, extensive and thorough,
On this vital subject; and find, to my horror,
That the fair Flora's case is by no means surprising,
But that there exists the greatest distress
In our female community, solely arising
From this unsupplied destitution of dress,
Whose unfortunate victims are filling the air
With the pitiful wail of "Nothing to wear !"
Oh! ladies, dear ladies, the next time you meet,
Please trundle your hoops just outside Regent-street,
From its whirl and its bustle, its fashion and pride,
And the temples of trade which tower on each side,
To the alleys and lanes where misfortune and guilt
Their children have gathered, their city have built;
Where hunger and vice, like twin beasts of prey,
Have hunted their victims to gloom and despair;
Raise the rich, dainty dress, and the fine broidered skirt,
Pick your delicate way through the dampness and dirt,
Grope through the dark dens, climb the rickety stair
To the garret, where wretches, the young and the old,
Half starved and half naked, lie crouched from the cold,
See those skeleton limbs, those frost-bitten feet,
All bleeding and bruised by the stones of the street;
Hear the sharp cry of childhood, the deep groans that swell
From the poor dying creature who writhes on the floor;
Hear the curses that sound like the echoes of hell,
As you sicken and shudder and fly from the door!
Then home to your wardrobes, and say, if you dare-
Spoiled children of Fashion-you've nothing to wear!
And oh! if perchance there should be a sphere,
Where all is made right which so puzzles us here,
Where the glare and the glitter, and the tinsel of time
Fade and die in the light of that region sublime,
Where the soul, disenchanted of flesh and of sense,
Unscreened by its trappings, and shows, and pretence,
Must be clothed for the life and the service above
With purity, truth, faith, meekness, and love;
Oh! daughters of earth! foolish virgins, beware!
Lest in that upper realm you have nothing to wear!
22.-THE DOCTOR AND HIS PUPIL.
A PUPIL of the Esculapian school
Was just prepared to quit his master's rule;
Not that he knew his trade, as it appears,
But that he then had learn'd it seven years.
Yet think not that in knowledge he was cheated;
All that he had to study still
Was, when a man was well or ill
And how, if sick, he should be treated.
One morn he thus address'd his master:-
"Dear sir, my honour'd father bids me say,
If I could now and then a visit pay,
He thinks, with you,
My business I might learn a little faster."
"The thought is happy," the preceptor cries,
"A better method he could scarce devise;
So, Bob," (his pupil's name,) "it shall be so;
And, when I next pay visits, you shall go."
To bring that hour, alas! time briskly fled :
With dire intent,
And now behold them at a patient's bed.
The master-doctor solemnly perused
His victim's face, and o'er his symptoms mus'd;
Look'd wise-said nothing-an unerring way,
When people nothing have to say;
Then felt the pulse, and smelt his cane,
And paus'd and blink'd, and smelt again,
And briefly of his corps perform'd each motion; Manoeuvres that for Death's platoon are meant; A kind of a make ready and present,
Before the fell discharge of pill and potion.
At length, the patient's wife he thus address'd: Madam, your husband's danger's great; And (what will never his complaint abate)
The man's been eating oysters, I perceive." "Dear! you're a witch, I verily believe," Madam replied, and to the truth confess'd.
Skill so prodigious, Bobby too admir'd;
And home returning, of the sage inquir'd,
How these same oysters came into his head ?
"Psha! my dear Bob, the thing was plain-
Sure that can ne'er distress thy brain;
I saw the shells lie underneath the bed."
So wise by such a lesson grown,
Next day Bob ventur'd forth alone,
And to the self-same suff'rer paid his court
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