So being relieved from that duty, I followed As just to inform me if you intend Your beauty, and graces, and presence to lend (All of 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." Wear the dress you have on, and you'll be by far, On the Stuckup horizon-" I stopped, for her eye, Of scorn and amazement. She made no reply, But gave a slight turn to the end of 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-colored, 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-colored"—"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 won't appear dressed like a chit of sixteen." "Then that splendid purple, the sweet Mazarine; That superb point d'aiguille, that imperial green, That zephyr-like tarletan, 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 both the bright eyes shot forth indignation, 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-you men have no feeling; Who set yourselves up as patterns and preachers, 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; And the storm I had raised came faster and louder; Well, I felt for the lady, and felt for my hat, too, Poked my feet into slippers, my fire into blaze, "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, From this unsupplied destitution of dress, Researches in some of the "Upper Ten" districts In one single house on the Fifth Avenue, Three young ladies were found, all below twenty-two, Are unable to go to ball, concert, or church; In another large mansion near the same place Of entire destitution of Brussels point-lace. In a neighboring block there was found, in three calls, To survive for the want of a new Russian sable; Still another, whose tortures have been most terrific In which were engulfed, not friend or relation (For whose fate she, perhaps, might have found consolation, Or borne it, at least, with serene resignation), But the choicest assortment of French sleeves and collars And all as to style most recherché and rare, The want of which leaves her with nothing to wear, And renders her life so drear and dyspeptic By husbands and fathers, real Bluebeards and Timons, days Unsupplied with new jewelry, fans or bouquets, Even laugh at their miseries whenever they have a chance, And deride their demands as useless extravagance. One case of a bride was brought to my view, Too sad for belief, but alas! 'twas too true, Whose husband refused, as savage as Charon, To permit her to take more than ten trunks to Sharon. The consequence was, that when she got there, At the end of three weeks she had nothing to wear; And when she proposed to finish the season |