e of white fur,
and waved my hand, as much as to say: I am seated; you can close the
door. Which he did.

One thing is curious about the streets of New York on New Year's Day.
Not a woman or girl is to be seen on the sidewalks.

The garden of Eden, before Adam went into the spare-rib business,
wouldn't have been more completely given up to the desolation of
manhood, unrefined by sweet female influence.

But every man that I saw, going up or down, looked bright and smiling,
as if he expected to find an Eve of his own before the day was over, and
I shouldn't wonder if a good many of them did.

XXIII.

THE NEW YEAR'S RECEPTION.

Cousin E. E. Dempster was all ready, and standing as large as life in
one end of her long parlor, when I went in. The first sight of that room
made me start back and scream right out. I had left daylight outside,
but found night there. The blinds were shut close to every window. Over
them fell a snow-storm of white lace, and over that a cataract of silk
that seemed to have been dyed in wine, its redness was so rich and
wavy.

The two great glass balloons were just running over with brightness that
scattered itself everywhere--on the chairs, the cushions, the carpet,
and a great round sofa which stood, like a giant cheese, in the middle
of the room, all covered with silk, and with a tall flower-pot standing
up from the centre, running over with flowers, and vines, and things.

This queer sofa, that seemed to have burst out into blossom for the
occasion, was a New Year's present, Cousin E. E. said, and quite a
surprise. "Then there is another," says she, a-pointing towards a marble
man, dressed in a grape leaf, that seemed to have been firing something
at the stone girl, and was watching to see if it had hit. "Of course you
have seen the Apollo before?"

I looked at the stone fellow sideways, then dropped my eyes.

"I--I don't know," says I; "maybe I should know him better if he had his
clothes on."

"Look again. You must have seen him," says she.

"No," says I, a-turning my head away; "I--I'd rather not till he goes
out and fixes himself up a little."

Cousin E. E. laughed till her face was red. While she was tittering like
a chirping bird, that little creature Cecilia came tripping into the
room, with a blue silk dress, ruffled over with white lace, just
reaching to her knees, her yellow hair a-rippling over that, clear down
behind, and a wreath of pink roses on her head. S