inutes may well be spent in a quick survey of the assembled guests.
All peoples, nations and languages appear to be represented in the
crowd. Nawabs and other Indian dignitaries of unpronounceable names and
indefinite rank, in gorgeous, many-colored raiment (presumably their
national idea of evening full dress), culminating in jeweled caps and
terminating in the opposite direction, somewhat incongruously, in
London-made dress-boots; envoys from Burmah or the khanates, appareled
in a kind of bedgowns; diplomates from all the embassies and ministries,
in uniforms of all sorts and colors, the amount of stars, orders and
suchlike decorations on each illustrious chest being usually in the
inverse ratio of the real importance of the country to which the wearer
belongs; gallant generals in scarlet and gallant admirals in blue; and
gallant militia officers and deputy lieutenants just as scarlet and
blue, ay, and golden too, as anybody; and all these encircled and
enwrapped by billowy masses of tulle and gauze and silk and satin in
which the ladies have come forth conquering and to conquer.

Meanwhile H.R.H. has arrived, and first-quadrille sets forming in every
direction speedily drive the non-dancers into the background. Those who
mean dancing have turned the preliminary twenty minutes' waiting to
useful account by getting their ball-programmes duly penciled with
engagements. In doing this one little difficulty peculiar to such places
as the Mansion House has to be met. The hall is so vast and the
multitude so bewildering that, unless you know exactly where to look, it
is as hopeless to expect to find any given partner at the right moment
as to seek a needle in a haystack. The only safe expedient is to agree
upon a pillar. A row of substantial pillars runs down either side of the
hall, the base of each fringed with seats, apt head-quarters for
chaperons, who, sitting there at ease, survey the fray and note their
charges' movements in it. So, as soon as an introduction is over, and
the engagement noted on the cards, "Where will you be?" asks the old
hand. "Oh, mamma's by the second pillar from the dais;" and thereupon he
and she go their ways, confident of meeting when their dance's turn is
reached.

Have you ever gone a-skating on the Serpentine after a fall of snow?
Here and there a more or less circular space has been swept clear, and
on each space a batch of skaters whirl and attitudinize, the uncleared
interspaces of snow