The Editor of the New York Evening Star is so well known and so highly estimated as a political writer, that we believe there is no party which does not feel the stronger for his friendship--or does not experience some dread from his opposition. His genius, however, does not exclusively delight in the _carte and tierce_ of political strife. He has an infinite fund of strong common sense and racy humor, and withal an uncommon power of description, which he employs with great effect in hitting off the manners of the age, and rebuking those pernicious innovations which are making such sad havoc with our antient simplicity. In the following article, he depicts with admirable force the evil consequences which, in our large cities especially, are likely to flow from an unrestrained indulgence in the follies and extravagancies of fashion. FASHIONABLE PARTIES AND LATE HOURS. BY M. M. NOAH. We are killing ourselves in this country by inches, and that for a tall man or an amazonian woman, is a dreadful reflection. In sooth, our late hours break in terribly on real comfort, sound health, and that refreshing sleep which "seals up the eyelids" in calm and soft repose, and ministers to our real enjoyments. We marvel why _fashion_, instead of being represented in bewitching and attractive colors, is not drawn with a Medusa's head, fiery eyes and snaky crest--or, under the silken cowl and wreaths of roses, a skeleton head peeping out as a warning--a caution in time--a _memento mori_. In this country we eat and dance ourselves to death with much more rapidity than they do at the Sandwich Islands. I met a friend on the _pave_ last week, who said, "Will you come to our party to-morrow night?" "A party? How? Comfortable dish of tea, game of whist, glass of whiskey-punch, and a sandwich, eh." "Oh, no--a real tearer--a regular turnout--been preparing a fortnight. I must give a couple every year for the sake of the world you know." "The world, ha! Well, I'll come, and if I don't, you won't miss me in the squeeze. Tell me, for old acquaintance sake, how much will the party cost?" "Why, about fifteen hundred dollars." "Fifteen hundred dollars! Prodigious! How many charming _tertulias_ in Spain, _converzaziones_ in Italy, and _soirees_ in France, would fifteen hundred dollars procure?--and all this sum swallowed up in one dancing frolic!"