Could have done like the others--bought a ready-made coat and vest and given _them_ with the greatest pleasure--but the hint in the invitation seemed to include the entire wardrobe brought into requisition on the occasion, and when I thought of a Five-Points darkey in my ruffled shirt and gold studs, I was "suddenly indisposed," and sent my "regrets." But I did go to a ball for the benefit of the poor--a two-dollar commingling of "upper-tendom" with "lower-twentydom"--an avalanche of exclusiveness, in a torrent of mobocracy--where the crowd was so great that faces lost their identity, and I was only conscious of a hustling mass of dressed up humanity--a forest of broadcloth wrecked in an ocean of calico. I barely escaped with life, and reached home in a state of collapse. Afterward, went to a concert in behalf of the poor--where I sat all the evening in a hard seat with a number on the back to see a woman make faces at a well-dressed audience, and sing music which I could not understand--the people all applauded when she screamed, and threw bouquets at her when she made a noise like a swamp-blackbird. But after listening to the stirring address before alluded to, I felt that I had not done enough; so, obedient to the promptings of my impulsive nature, I determined to give something more, and being so far _cityfied_ in my habits that I desired to combine amusement with charity, and only give my money to the needy after I had received its worth in dancing, got its full value in foreign music at a high price, or eaten its equivalent in oysters and ice-cream at some kind of a pseudo-charitable gathering, I looked about me for some fitting opportunity to bestow my charity on the deserving poor, after making it previously pay for some delectation for myself. It did not take me long to find out that there was soon to be a ladies' fair, in aid of the poor, given by the benevolent ladies of the Church of the Holy Poker. Damphool (who can't give up city associations, and who wouldn't read his Bible if it wasn't printed in New York) had sent to me from his rural solitude to procure him a dressing-gown, a pair of slippers, and a crocheted worsted comforter. Thought I couldn't have a better opportunity to purchase these, and so I went to the fair. Got to the hall, paid my twenty-five cents at the door, went in--saw plenty of long tables, with ladies behind them playing "keep store"--tables covered with mysterious articles of baby linen, and complicated pieces of female harness, designed for uses to me unknown, and also all sorts of impracticable unnecessaries intended for gentlemen.