Page:Kickerbocker Feb 1833 vol 1 no 2.djvu/36

And there was mamma, and grandmamma, and aunt Beisy, and aunt Sally, and aunt Nicky, and cousin Polly, and cousin Nancy,—in all thirty-seven. What a noise they made!

The poor girl was twisted and turned; this one must have a look, and that one must have a look. They screamed admiration, like a chorus at the opera—to those who don't understand music. Such sounds! such gestures! such looks!

(Chorus.) "Oh! here is papa! Papa must see her; throw it away; throw it away—that vile segar! There, papa, look!—What do you think? Her hair—so nice!—Is n't that dress—" (Papa.) "Very pretty—very pretty, indeed." (Chorus.) "Oh!—your hands!—his hands!—his hands!!—Don't touch!"—Thank—the heathen gods!—there's the carriage.

Rattle away!—In a tumult of delight—my pretty Fanny!—how hope, and fear, and joy, mingle and struggle in her young bosom! And the vague expectation of something terrible, yet delightful!—The opening of a mystery!—

It was her first ball.

I hate the man who loves not thee, Madeira!—He cannot know the world; he cannot be a gentleman; he cannot have a head; he cannot have a heart; he cannot have a palate—Not for such "the hand of Douglas"—But I am wrong, after all; there may be, there doubtless are, clever people, in a homely way, who yet by birth, and breeding, and education, and perchance the coarseness of the clay, whence they were fashioned, are unfitted, unable to enjoy, to understand the finer and more delicate sensations of which our nature is susceptible!—

—Let 'men of business,' fox hunters, and prize-fighters muddle themselves over port! Claret, I think, suits well the weak heads of fops, and the hungry stomachs of authors.—For all the tribes of German wines, the whole conjugation of heimer, Rhine and Rhone, and red and white;—why I sincerely hope my friend Delmonico may be able to get rid of his present stock. For myself, I must positively decline drinking them again—'en personne.' Champagne, bah!—'tis for vulgar mirth! for noisy boys—and giggling girls—for—

But Madeira!—princely Madeira!—Heu quanto minus est cum reliquis versari quam tui meminisse!The vulgar know thee not, and thou know'st not them—My first love and my last!

As I raise thee to my lips, bright and clear, thy blush is like sunset, so rich, so warm!—For a moment I pause; I drink that breath rich with the