And
the elegant album, souvenirs, and autograph books, are all in the
midst of this nasty mess.1 The couches are greasy, the silk ottoman
shows it has been sat in since it met with an accident which was only
a trifle, and there has been the devil to pay everywhere. A doctor is
seen going into the house, and soon after a coffin is seen coming out.
An unbidden guest, a disgusting levelling democrat came to that ball,
how or when no one knew; but there he is and there he will remain for
the rest of the summer. He has victimized one poor girl already, and
is now strangling another. The yellow fever is there. Nature has sent
her avenging angel. There is no safety but in flight.
1 Whoever thinks this description over-drawn, is referred to a
remarkably clever work which lately appeared in New York, entitled
"The Potiphar Papers." Mr Slick has evidently spared this class of
society.
"Good gracious! if people will ape their superiors, why won't they
imitate their elegance as well as their extravagance, and learn that
it is the refinement alone, of the higher orders which in all
countries distinguishes them from the rest of mankind? The decencies
of life, when polished, become its brightest ornaments. Gold is a
means, and not an end. It can do a great deal, still it can't do
everything; and among others I guess it can't make a gentleman, or
else California would be chock full of 'em.
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