This was rather a pointed question; but I replied without hesitation, “Oh, excessively; there appear to be some lovely creatures amongst them, and (giving a flourish) with charms enough to move the soul of an anchorite.” “Oh,” said Miss Rosa, with a smile and downward look, wishing to be complimentary, “I think dey are more fond of the military.” I was on the point of emitting that expressive note of astonishment—_whew!_ but checked myself. “I think,” said I, “you rather mistook me, though I can hardly regret that which has been the cause of so flattering an admission, but I alluded to an ascetic.” “Asiatic!” said the young lady, with some hauteur, and a toss of the head, “no native come to these ball, I assure you.” I could not suppress an emphatic “humph!” The fiddles now began again; I presented my arm, divested myself, though with reluctance, of my trusty Solingen blade, and took my place in the set. A tremendous long set it was, and after slaving for half an hour, I found myself at the head of it. Grundy, with a face like that of the Marquess of Granby on a sign-post, standing next to me, and streaming like the apotheosis of a river god. “Well, how do you get on, Grundy?” said I. “Oh, it’s cruel hot work,” said he, with a sigh, which was perfectly heart-rending. “Hot, indeed,” I rejoined, giving sigh for sigh; “they don’t catch me dancing again in a red coat.” If working up the dance was fatiguing, the going down it was still more so. My partner, a practised hand, skipped about without the smallest signs of fatigue, whilst I, reeking from every pore, was dragged up and down and whirled round and about till my head spun, and I thought I should have verily gone into a fit, or sunk from sheer exhaustion on the floor. I did, however, contrive to hold out till we finished the dance, five-and-twenty couples at least, when, with a staggering bow, I tendered my arm and led my partner to her seat. “Are you fond of dancing?” said she, with the coolest assurance. “A little of it,” said I, with a sigh, “when in practice, the set not too long, and the weather not too hot.” A gentleman, chained, ringed, and be-broached, stout and bronzed, now came up, and engaged my partner for the next dance, chatted for some time with the air of an old acquaintance, gave a “bye-bye” sort of a nod, and passed on. “Do you know Captain Trinkum?” “No,” said I; “what does he belong to?” “To the _Rustomjee Bomanjee_,” said she. “The _Rustomjee Bomanjee_,” I rejoined; “pray what regiment is that? some irregular corps, I suppose.” This remark of mine set her off in a violent fit of laughter, of which (rather confused) I begged to know the cause. “It’s a country ship,” screamed she, “not a regiment.” Going off again at a tangent, “Oh, now I see you are a griffin.”