irate at
this, and rates the band soundly for not playing a valse. Galops are
played, but not danced; a complicated movement termed a "Circassian
circle" being substituted in their place. "Three hours of square dances
are really too absurd," said the graduate to an innocent second fiddle.
In the centre of the room all was gravity and decorum, but the merriest
dances went on in corners. An Irish quadrille was played, and an
unmistakable Paddy regaled himself with a most beautiful jig. He got on
by himself for a figure or two, when, remembering, no doubt, that
"happiness was born a twin," he dived into the throng, selected a
white-headed old friend of some sixty years, and impressed him with the
idea of a pas de deux. There they kept it up in a corner for the whole
of the quadrille, twirling imaginary shillelaghs, and encouraging one
another with that expressive Irish interjection which it is so
impossible to put down on paper. For an hour all went merry as the
proverbial marriage bell, and then there was an adjournment of the male
portion of the company to supper. The ladies remained in the Bazaar and
discussed oranges, with an occasional dance to the pianoforte, as the
band retired for refreshment too, in one of the attendants' rooms. I
followed the company to their supper room, as I had come to see, not to
eat. About four hundred sat down in a large apartment, and there were,
besides, sundry snug supper-parties in smaller rooms. Each guest partook
of an excellent repast of meat and vegetables, with a sufficiency of
beer and pipes to follow. The chaplain said a short grace before supper,
and a patient, who must have been a retired Methodist preacher, improved
upon the brief benediction by a long rambling "asking of a blessing," to
which nobody paid any attention. Then I passed up and down the long rows
with a courteous official, who gave me little snatches of the history of
some of the patients. Here was an actor of some note in his day; there a
barrister; here again a clergyman; here a tradesman recently "gone,"
"all through the strikes, sir," he added. The shadow--that most
mysterious shadow of all--had chequered life's sunshine in every one of
these cases. Being as they are they could not be in a better place. They
have the best advice they could get even were they--as some of them
claim to be--princes. If they can be cured, here is the best chance. If
not--well, there were the little dead-house and the quiet cemete
|