quisite creatures get hot and dishevelled the charm goes
off--don't you think so, Mamma? It is more like France than England, as
there is very little sitting out; one just goes to the buffet. And
there is always the cotillon; but the favours and flowers are much
better than anyone would have in Paris. The girls must get quite rich
in trinkets at the end of a season.

We are told a real ball, where the married women are, is much more
range, and one does not see people get so untidy. But all the balls are
over now, so we shall not be able to judge.

What struck us most was the young people seemed much more familiar with
each other than we should ever allow them to be; just like playful
brothers and sisters, not a bit loverish, but almost as if it could
develop into what they call "rough-housing" in a minute, although it
never did at the dance.

"Rough-housing" is throwing your neighbour's bread across the table at
someone else, and he throwing his table napkin back at you, and yelling
and screaming with mirth; and it often ends with being mauled and
pulled about, and water being poured down someone's neck.

The Spleists had a young people's tea last week, which I have not had
time to tell you of, where they did all this. They flung themselves
about, and were as natural and tiresome as baby puppies are, barking
and bouncing and eating up people's shoes.

Fancy, Mamma, when Ermyntrude grows up, my allowing her to pour water
down a man's neck, and to be mauled and fought with in consequence! But
I am sure they are all as innocent and lighthearted as the young
puppies whose behaviour theirs resembles; so it may be a natural outlet
for high spirits, and have its good side, though we could not possibly
stand it.

The whole tenue in moving, of the girls, is "fling about," even in the
street, but no other nation can compare to them in their exquisitely
spruce, exquisitely soigne appearance, and their perfect feet and
superlatively perfect boots, and short tailor dresses. To see Fifth
Avenue on a bright day, morning or afternoon, is like a procession of
glowing flowers passing. Minxes of fifteen with merry roving eyes,
women of all ages, _all_ as beautifully dressed as it is possible to be,
swinging along to the soda-water fountain shops where you can get candy
and ice cream and lovely chocolates. No one has that draggled, too long
in the back and too short in the front look, of lots of English women
holding up their garmen