Now, if we would prevent utter disunion in society, something like a
compromise must be effected, and to the ladies belongs the laboring
oar. I use a metaphor which implies that they must do something they
are little accustomed to do; they must make some concession. We have
done all we could do, and I will make one statement which will
convince the world that we bachelors are not obstinate without good
reason. I confess (though it is not without some slight degree of
shame that I own it), that I have, during the last week, consumed the
greater part of every day in ineffectual study, trying to perfect
myself in the terminology of the science of Fashion. I have listened
attentively, and have gathered into a retentive memory sundry
technicalities; but in vain have I submitted these terms of a strange
dialect to the strictest etymological research. In vain have I
conversed upon this subject with the most intelligent dry-goods
dealers. In learning the few idiomatic phrases they employ, I have
experienced only the satisfaction which young students in Greek
literature feel, when they have, with infinite labor, mastered the
_alphabet_ of that rich and copious language.

But there is hope. Experience tells us, this state of things cannot
last for ever. A few weeks, and our sufferings shall be rewarded, our
forbearance repaid. Then shall gay streamers, pendent from rejuvenated
bonnets, float, as of yore, across our promenades, and on the
shoulders of Earth's fairest daughters the variegated mantle be again
displayed. The streets, now deserted by the fair, will ere long
glitter with the brilliant throng, and our sidewalks be swept once
more by the gracefully flowing silk. Taper fingers shall
condescendingly be extended to us, the smile of beauty beam on us, and
witty speech banish our resentful remembrance of incomprehensible
jargon.