« ΠροηγούμενηΣυνέχεια »
mer, every mantuamaker, every paper-hanger, every piano teacher, and every dancing master in the city, were enlisted in their service; and the willing wights most courteously answered their call; and fell to work to build up the fame of the Gib. lets, as they had done that of many an aspiring family before them. In a little time the young ladies could dance the waltz, thunder Lodoiska, murder french, kill time, and commit violence on the face of nature in a landscape in water-colors, equal to the best lady in the land ; and the young gentlemen were seen lounging at corners of streets, and driving tandem ; heard talking loud at the theatre, and laughing in church; with as much ease, and grace, and modesty, as if they had been gentlemen all the days of their lives.
And the Giblets arrayed themselves in scarlet, and in fine linen, and seated themselves in high places; but nobody noticed them except to honor them with a little contempt. The Giblets made a prodigious splash in their own opinion; but nobody extolled them except the tailors, and the milliners, who had been employed in manufacturing their paraphernalia. The Giblets thereupon being like Caleb Quotem, determined to have “a place at the review,” fell to work more fiercely than ever ;-they gave dinners, and they gave balls,
they hired cooks, they hired fiddlers, they hired confectioners ; and they would have kept a newspaper in pay, had they not been all bought up at that time for the election. They invited the dancing men, and the dancing women, and the gormandizers, and the epicures of city, to come and make merry at their expense ; and the dancing men, and the dancing women, and the epicures, and the gormandizers, did come ; and they did make merry at their expense; and they eat, and they drank, and they capered, and they danced, and they-laughed at their entertainers.
Then commenced the hurry and the bustle, and the mighty nothingness of fashionable life ;--such rattling in coaches ! such flaunting in the streets ! such slamming of box doors at the theatre! such a tempest of bustle and unmeaning noise wherever they appeared! the Giblets were seen here and there and every where ;-they visited every body they knew, and every body they did not know ; and there was no getting along for the Giblets. Their plan at length succeeded. By dint of dinners, of feeding and frolicking the town, the Giblet family worked themselves into notice, and enjoyed the ineffable pleasure of being forever pestered by visitors, who cared nothing about them; of being squeezed, and smothered, and parboiled at nightly balls, and evening tea parties ;they were allowed the privilege of forgetting the very few old friends they once possessed ;—they turned their noses up in the wind at every thing that was not genteel; and their superb manners and sublime affectation at length left it no longer a matter of doubt that the Giblets were perfectly in the style.
"..-Being, as it were, a sinali contentmente in a never
contenting subjecte; a bitter pleasaunte taste of a sweete seasoned sower; and, all in all, a more than ordinarie rejogcing, in an extraordinarie sorrow of delyghts !"
We have been considerably edified of late by several letters of advice from a number of sage correspondents, who really seem to know more about our work than we do ourselves. One warns us against saying any thing more about Snivers, who is a very particular friend of the writer, and who has a singular disinclination to be laughed at. This correspondent in particular inveighs again. personalities, and accuses us of ill nature in bringing forward old Fungus and Billy Dimple, as figures of fun to amuse the public. Another gentleman, who states that he is a near relation of the Cocklofts, proses away most soporifically on the impropriety of ridiculing a respectable old family; and declares that if we make them and their whimwhams the subject of any more essays, he shall be under the necessity of applying to our theatrical champions for satisfaction. A third, who by the crabbedness of the hand-writing, and a few careless inaccuracies in the spelling, appears to be a lady, assures us that the miss Cocklofts, and miss Diana Wearwell, and miss Dashaway, and mrs.
- Will Wizard's quondam flame, are so much obliged to us for our notice, that they intend in future to take no notice of us at all but leave us out of all their tea-parties; for which we make them one of our best bows, and say, “ thank yon ladies." .
We wish to heaven these good people would attend to their own affairs, if they have any to attend to, and let us alone. It is one of the most provoking things in the world that we cannot tiekle the public a little, merely for our own private amusement, but we must be crossed and jost"imad hy these meddling incendiaries and, in fact, have the whole town about our ears. We are much in the same situation with an unlucky blade of a cockney; who having mounted his bit of blood to enjoy a little innocent recreation, and display his horsemanship along Broadway, is worried by all those little yelping curs that infest our city; and who never fail to sally out and growl, and bark, and snarl, to the great annoyance of the Birmingham equestrian. • Wisely was it said by the sage Linkum Fidelius, “ howbeit, moreover, neverthelesse, this thrice wicked towne is charged up to the muzzle with all manner of ill-natures and uncharitablenesses, and is, moreover, exceedinglie naughte.” This passage of the erudite Linkum was applied to the city of Gotham, of which he was once lord mayor, as appears by his picture hung up in the hall of that ancient city ;-but his observation fits this best of all possible cities “ to a hair.” It is a melancholy truth that this same New-York, though the most charming, pleasant, polished and praise-worthy city under the sun, and in a word the bonne bouche of the universe, is most shockingly ill-natured and sarcastic and wickedly given to all manner of backslidings ;-for which we are very sorry indeed. In truth, for it must come out like murder one time or other, the inhabitants are