for him, introducing him to every lady whom I knew, but it was in
vain; they would have been delighted to dance with him, but their
cards were filled. At the end of the evening, when I was feeling
thoroughly done up, and could hardly stand up for fatigue, my poor
friend came up and begged for another dance. I assured him I could
scarcely stand, but when he said in a _larmoyante_ voice, "I have
only danced once this evening, that quadrille with you," my heart
softened, and I thought I would make a great effort and try to get
through one more set of Lancers; my partner seemed so grateful, that
the demon of vanity, or coquetry, or whatever it is that prompts one
to say absurd things induced me to fish for a compliment, and to
observe, "It was not worth while taking all the trouble of riding
such a distance to dance only with me, was it?" Whereupon my poor,
doleful friend answered, with a deep sigh, and an accent of profound
conviction, "No, indeed it was _not_!" I leave you to imagine my
discomfiture; but luckily he never observed it, and I felt all the
time that I richly deserved what I got, for asking such a stupid
question.

The music at these balls is very bad, and though the principal room
in which they are given, at the Town Hall, is large and handsome, it
is poorly lighted, and the decorations are desolate in the extreme.
I am afraid this is not a very inviting picture of what is almost
our only opportunity of meeting together, but it is tolerably
correct. Visiting appears to be the business of some people's
lives, but the acquaintance does not seem to progress beyond
incessant afternoon calls; we are never asked inside a house, nor,
as far as I can make out, is there any private society whatever, and
the public society consists, as I have said, of a ball every now and
then.