did not appertain to such artless beings as my companion would have
me believe them. It struck me, too, that the toilet of these artless
damsels was not what it should be. Indeed, there was an extravagance
of color, and scantiness at both ends of their drapery, that both my
mother and grandmother would have set down as in extremely bad
taste. My companion soon cleared up this little matter, by informing
me that the toilet of these artless damsels, so bright in color and
scanty in places, was in strict keeping with the standard of fashion
adopted by the very best society, which was to be more undressed
than dressed, that the devil-who always wanted to look in-might see
for himself.

"What there was lacking in drapery, to save my emotions, I might, my
friend said, make up in the color of my imagination. They were all
the daughters of rich bankers in Wall Street; hence no one had a
right to interfere with their mode of dress. Stewart, at whose
shrine of satins and silks ten thousand longing damsels worshiped,
owed his fortune to their love of bright colors. And although he had
filled two graveyards with ruined husbands, and was preparing a
third for the great number of wives whose constancy he had crushed
out with the high price of his laces, no one was simpleton enough to
blame him. No matter how many sins of extravagant men he might have
to answer for, the purchase of seven pews in Grace Church, and the
good will of Brown, would secure his redemption. Stewart was a hero
whose deeds should be recorded in history, and to whose memory a
monument ought to be raised in every fashionable graveyard; and upon
which it would be well to inscribe an epitaph written by Brown, the
sexton.

"My companion said he would (and he did) introduce me to several of