Crowd of young men came in together, (it is customary here, for young gentlemen to club their funds, hire a carriage by the hour, and go calling in a drove; stopping at every house where one of the company happens to be acquainted; so that when a lady keeps open house, for every person whom she knows or desires to see, a dozen unknown individuals annoy her by their uninvited presence,)--every one asked the young ladies to sing, and the young ladies _did_ sing--generally opera, but sometimes varying the entertainment with the touching ballad of "Old Dog Tray," or the graceful and genteel melody, "Jordan is a Hard Road." On this occasion the programme was somewhat as follows:--Gent. No. 1 was treated with a "gem from Norma"--No. 2, a Grand March--No. 3, "Old Dog Tray"--No. 4, "Prima Donna Waltz"--No. 5, "Norma"--No. 6, "Jordan"--No. 7, "Norma"--No. 8, "Prima Donna," again--No. 9, "Norma"--No. 10, "Norma"--No. 11, "Dog Tray"--No. 12, "Norma," &c.; "Norma" being always ahead, and evidently a favorite of the field. I have no doubt that in the whole city, yesterday, "Norma" must have been entreated to "hear my prayer," at least fifteen thousand distinct times, by probably five thousand imploring females--and these harmonious supplications, if blended and consolidated into one powerful, entreating scream, would have been sufficient to raise the ancient Druids from their graves, only to find that, although the final trump had not sounded, it was by an imitation by no means to be despised, that they had been fooled into a premature resurrection. As evening came on, the guests who came showed signs of the day's indulgences--I was particularly edified by the movements of three of them, whom I noted with peculiar care--the first shook hands cordially with the servant girl, called her "Mrs. Griggs," wished her many happy returns, and on being told of his error, made an humble apology to the piano stool, and immediately sat down in a spittoon. The next made his bow to the hat-stand in the hall, swaggered into the room, called for a brandy "smash"--tried to rectify his mistake by begging pardon of Mrs. G. for mistaking her parlor for a bar-room, and assured her, if he had done anything he was sorry for, he was exceedingly glad of it. The third stumbled on to the sofa, and, after steadily contemplating his boots with much satisfaction for fifteen minutes, he picked up a Chinese fire-screen, and with an irresistible drunken sobriety, he tried to decipher the mysterious characters inscribed thereon, at the same time calling the attention of Mrs. G. to the capital story in "the Magtober number of Harper's Octazine."