es an apoplectic canary--so glittering is the amber
satin,--followed by the sons, who meander amongst the beaux and bare
shoulders, in search of the Miss Browns--dancing with no one else all
the evening,--causing the gentlemen to think very little of the De
Camps, and the ladies less of the Miss Browns. Now, then, for a
polka!--the rattling "Post knock Polka!"--Off! away they go, after a
great deal of reluctance and playful diffidence as to who should lead
off--Miss Charmer with Arthur Beau, twirling round and round, in and out
(like an eel among skittles); followed by Mr. Latimer and Miss Jemima,
who evidently intended to do great things, but only cause confusions and
contusions, until they get knocked into the open space, in the centre of
the human vortex--the Charmer spinning, as a top that could not stop,
while the music continued, like the automata in front of a street organ.
There, there they go!--that is Lord Towney--he who came with Mr.
Serjeant Wideawake, the Honourable Member for Bloomsbury--the fellow who
got acquainted with Brown, as brother-director of the "Dodo Assurance,"
that didn't do, and was done up. His Lordship is son of the Marquis of
Mary-le-bone--he that is flying with the pink flounces,--the buoyant,
hollow, Miss Price, whose pretty button of a nose we do believe was
impressed with the basket-work on her partner's fourth shirt-stud. Round
and round they twist--backwards, forwards, and sideways,--between
parties parted, and openings that close again,--faster and
faster,--smiling, frowning, and apologizing,--growing swifter and
swifter,--until the floor snapped, and rebounded with an awful crash.

* * * *

[Illustration]

The visitors are in the room below--a scene of ruin and rueful
faces;--the supper that was displayed there, in all its state, is done
for. Alas!--the chandelier has been polked off the hook--a mishap in
which few sympathise, for the floor is said to be safe; Mr. Lark being
the first to propose their going above, as he jokingly observed--to
crack the _party_-wall. Now, for that vastly-relished valse, the
"Teetotum"--liked none the less for the late excitement!--_deux temps_
against _trois temps_--the latter getting worsted; and the Brown girls,
who danced every dance, with certain gentlemen, only, more and more
unpopular.

[Illustration]

As the evening progresses, the Wall-flowers become bolder;--some finding
partners for quadrilles; others edging up to the vac