ng gold, and his laugh is the clink of the jingling pieces.
He turns himself into a regal sceptre that sways the gaping crowd, and
it becomes a magnet that draws with resistless power the outstretched,
itching palms of men. He takes the witching form of woman, paints her
pulpy cheek with peachy bloom, knots into grace her mass of wavy hair,
lights in her sparkling eye the kindling flame, hangs on her pouting lip
the expectant kiss, and bids her supple waist invite caress; and more
seductive far than gold or power are these cunning lures to win men to
bow down in abject, grovelling worship of his might. My dear Madam, I
would not imply that your beauty and grace are exhibitions of his skill.
By no manner of means! I faithfully believe that Frank was drawn to you
by the holiest, purest, best of emotions. But then, you know, so many of
your lovely sex are under the influence of that cunning gentleman while
they least suspect it. When a poor girl who owns but one jewel on
earth--the priceless one that adorns and ennobles her lowliness--barters
that treasure away for the cheap glitter of polished stones or the
rustling sweep of gaudy silk, is not the basilisk gleam of the
Mephistophelean eye visible in the sparkling of those gewgaws and the
sheen of that stuff? When your friend Asmodeus, honest in his modest
self-respect, is most ignominiously ignored by the stylish Mrs.
Money,--her father was a cobbler,--more noted for brocades than
brains,--or the refined Miss Blood,--her grandfather was third-cousin to
some Revolutionary major,--more distinguished for shallowness than for
spirit,--does he not smile in his sleeve, with great irreverence for the
brocades and the birth, at the easy way in which the old fellow has
wheedled them into his power by tickling their conceit and vanity? He
creeps into all sorts of corners, and lurks in the smallest of
hiding-places. He lies _perdu_ in the folds of _figurante's_ gauze,
nestles under the devotee's sombre veil, waves in the flirt's fan, and
swims in the gossip's teacup. He burrows in a dimple, floats on a sigh,
rides on a glance, and hovers in a thought.

But I would not infer, Madam, that he is the particular pet of the fair,
or that he specially devotes himself to their subjugation. It is certain
that he employs them with his most cunning skill, and sways the world
most powerfully by their regnant charms. But the lords of creation are
likewise the slaves of his will and the dupes of h