He cannot dance with all of us, but he can look
this way through his opera-glass, and give us all a chance of being put
in the papers as the beautiful young lady he admired so much. We appoint
you a committee of one. Address him in our behalf. Get some memento of
him that we may leave to future generations."

The entreaties of these young creatures went to my heart. I raised my
forefinger, which was like an oath to them, and says I:

"Thanks for this honor. Like a Roman matron I will do my duty. Wait."

I arose from my seat, and swept, with a dignity and grace that must
have done the Society I represent great honor, around the gallery, and
found my way into the private retiring-room of our illustrious guest. It
was small but beautifully furnished. My pink silk, as it trailed in,
seemed to fill the whole room. In the looking-glass I saw a figure,
tall, commanding; I may say queenly--but enough of that.

A person stood near the door and looked in. I lifted my finger; he
approached.

"Go," says I, "to the great Grand Duke of all the Russias, and tell him
that Miss Phoemie Frost, a committee lady, awaits his presence here."

He started--he smiled--he went.

I drew back and stood against the wall opposite the door. _He_ entered,
looking a little puzzled. I advanced one foot, then the other, three
long paces, as queens do when they act on the stage. Then I sunk down in
a profound curtsey, wound myself up again into a royal position, and
held out my right hand.

"Great Grand Duke Alexis," says I, "son of an illustrious father and an
imperial mother, whom all women love to honor, welcome to our
shores--welcome to the fashion, genius, and beauty embodied in the
females of America."

Before I could finish the address to which duty and ever-burning genius
inspired me, the great Grand Duke quenched my ardor by a heavenly smile
that danced in his blue eyes, and almost broke into a laugh on his red
lips. His voice was like over-ripe strawberries when he spoke and said:
"The ladies did him great honor; he had not English to express his
pleasure, and no power to repay their kindness." This was my time.

"Being the head of a committee of so many young ladies that it is
impossible for your Imperial Majesty to dance with the whole, I--that
is, these ladies--wish to be represented in the festive cotillon by a
person worthy of the occasion. Not the wife of an American potentate,
who may or may not have any claims of her own, but