I determined to go, and a friend promised to call for me in his carriage. I was ready at seven, and sat quietly until nine--half past nine--ten; when, just as I was ringing for my slippers, and preparing, as Monsieur Morbleu says, for my night-caps, _rat-tat-tat_ goes the coachman, and in walked my friend--pumps and tight pants on--white gloves and perfumed handkerchief. "So, sir, a pretty time you have called for me; why I have been ready since seven o'clock." "Seven o'clock! why bless you, the company only begin to assemble at ten; and even now we are rather early." "Early, do you call it? Go out to spend the evening at half past ten o'clock! Well, well, I suppose we must not be out of the fashion--so come along." Our carriage rattled up one of the principal streets, and a glare of light was showered in all directions from the house. We fell in behind a range of coaches, and had to wait until our turn, and found, on alighting, a retinue of yellow servants to usher us in the mansion; to take our coats, hats, and canes, and prepare us in form for the _entree_. Every thing was elegant--gayety, fashion, and pleasure reigned triumphant; beauty, in resplendent beams, shed its halo over the scene; plenty, from its golden horn, was poured forth in all directions; music, and the giddy dance, were kept up with unabated vigor, until the russet morn had nearly flickered the east. I got home; tossed and tumbled for two or three hours in bed, and then rose for the duties of the day. Having occasion to call on an old gentleman about twelve o'clock, I found him in his parlor, with the breakfast table before him. "What, not breakfasted yet?" "O yes, long ago--this is for my daughters, who came from the party about three o'clock, and are not yet up." In a few minutes the young ladies entered; but oh, how altered!--where were the bounding step and elastic gait--the brilliant eye, the jocund smile--the silken attire--the well-dressed hair, and jewelled form of last night's entertainment? They were pallid and exhausted--their eye, their hair, their dress, all _en dishabille_--both with a hectic cough--both looking as wo-begone and spiritless as if they had just escaped from the siege of Troy.--"Have you slept well, girls?" said the anxious parent. "Not a wink, father--we tossed and tumbled and worried for several hours, but not a wink of sleep--oh, my head, my head--and oh, my bones, my bones." "Probably your restlessness arose from eating too heartily at supper."--"No such thing, father--why, I only ate a little chicken salad, a wing of turkey, some jelly, a few macaronies and mottoes, a dozen pickled oysters, and drank a few glasses of champaign, that's all--excepting a sponge cake or two, and a glass of lemonade, during dancing, and a little ginger sweetmeats. There's Lizzy ate twice as much as I did." "No I didn't, but I was more select, father; a few slices of cold tongue--a piece of a-la-mode