And, notwithstanding the recent election of a Maine Law Governor, in nearly every house, wines, brandy, punches, "hot stuff," and various inebriating drinks abounded, and every guest was compelled, on pain of slighting his host, to partake--the inevitable result was, that before night, many a youth, whose head might have withstood the attack of a single bottle, not being able to endure a twenty hours' siege, gave in dead-drunk--while others of harder heads and stronger stomachs, reeled from parlor to parlor, proclaiming the obituary of their respectability and decency, by exhibiting the noisy clamor, or idiotic gibber of beastly drunkenness, to the refined and polished ladies of "our best society"--in many cases rewarding the pseudo-hospitality of their fair entertainers by liberally sprinkling the marble steps to their noble mansions, with an unclean baptism from their aristocratic stomachs. Kept Sandie awake until we entered a hack, and then let him relapse into a refreshing slumber, which continued until we reached home--entered the parlor, and took a seat in a corner, from which, unobserved, I could get a fair view of the various performances. Every young lady is skilled in music, and an "elegant player" upon that tortured instrument, the piano--each can sing an assortment of "glees" from beautiful operas--transposing her voice into a vocal cork-screw, and opening her mouth so that, as a general thing, you can see those unmentionable articles, which are used, in fireman's phraseology, to "light up the hose"--and these songs, these delectable morsels of harmony, varied by such extemporaneous discords as the agitation or forgetfulness of the moment may occasion, are always "executed" for the entertainment of evening visitors. Mrs. Griggs' daughters are no exception to this general rule. First call-bell rings--enter bashful young man--evidently his first attempt at a fashionable visit--came in with his hat in his hand--put it behind him to make his bow--dropped it--tried to pick it up--stepped in it--put his foot through it--fell over it--and in his frantic struggles to recover himself, burnt his coat, fractured his pantaloons, untied his cravat, demolished his shirt collar, and was finally borne away to the hall by his sympathizing friends; minus his patent moustache, one-half of which was afterwards found in Laura Matilda's scrap-book and the rest discovered in the coal-scuttle.