une that the present habits of society, placing the fair
sex in the position of waiting to be asked by would-be male partners, as
well for dances as for life-partnerships, do not at the same time, in
the former as they do in the latter case, countenance their meeting
undesired proposals with a direct negative. It is fully admitted in
principle, and is said to be experienced in practice, that a lady may
reply to the question, "Will you marry me?" with a conclusive "No." But
the same answer, given to the stock ball-room interrogatory, "May I have
the (honor/pleasure) of a dance?" would be conventionally reprobated as
discourteous, and is practically impossible. The natural consequence is,
that the fair answerer is driven to all manner of distressing--sometimes
almost amusingly distressing--shifts and equivocations, merely to escape
the necessity of dancing with men whom she doesn't wish to dance with,
but who insist on asking her to do so. Sometimes she salves her
conscience by the device of arranging beforehand with a brother or
other near relative that she shall be understood to be engaged to him
for every and any dance that may be asked for by a person undesired. At
other times she will have mislaid her programme, or "think mamma will
want to be gone" before the proposed dance is reached. To young ladies
thus embarrassed a practice which has recently gained some hold at
private balls, of supplying no dance-programmes at all, has afforded a
novel and most happy relief. For when one man has asked for (and perhaps
fondly noted on his ample cuff) "the third dance from now," another "the
second galop," and a third "the fourth round," she is so genuinely
bewildered as to how many and what dances she is and is not engaged for
that it becomes alike easy to checkmate proposals by the reply
"engaged," and at any time in the course of the evening to give an
immediate dance to any favored partner, in sheer hopelessness of
remembering to whom, if at all, it has already been promised, and on the
chance that the unknown will not appear to claim it.

But suppose, on the other hand, there are programmes. If one could get a
sight of any dozen, taken at random, after all, I warrant there would be
some curious if not edifying reading there. Names are (unintentionally
enough) so slurred in the hurry of introduction--"Miss Mumble-mumble,
allow me to introduce Mr. Jumble-jumble"--that, more often than not,
neither party catches the other's na