ought it better to use exclusively the New
York forms, which differ somewhat from the English, the French, and
continental, as well as from a certain code of etiquette prevailing in
other American cities.

I shall therefore, as we have no State balls or ceremonials of that
character, consider public assemblages, a few of which are patronized by
society in New York and elsewhere.

Of absolutely public balls the only one which society attends is the
Charity. In New York this has fallen somewhat in fashionable popularity,
although efforts are being made to revive it. In Chicago and in other
cities it is still a very fashionable function. It is there well
patronized and is considered smart. Tickets to the Charity are sold by
a number of lady patronesses, and you are apt to receive one or several
from some of them, if you are a rich young man, with a request to
purchase. If the note states that you are expected to be a guest you are
simply to answer it, as you would any other invitation, and certainly
not to inclose any money. Patronesses frequently are named because it is
expected that they will purchase quite a number of tickets. And here let
me give a useful hint. In sending money to this and for charitable
entertainments in general, always do it by check; never inclose bills.
If you must use cash, keep it for your small tradespeople.

Everything may be said to have its price at a Charity Ball. Supper is
sometimes included with the ticket. The repast is usually rather poor,
but then you must remember it is for charity. Perhaps you will be asked
some time in advance by the patronesses to be one in the "grand march."
The "grand march" proper is a form of exhibition long since relegated to
balls of the "Tough Boys' Coterie" and other assemblages of the same
class. But it has survived, in place of a lancers or quadrille of honor,
at the Charity Ball, and we have either to go through with it or watch
it from the boxes with Christian patience. If you are to take part, I
would advise you to present yourself at the hall or opera house about
nine o'clock. The floor manager will do the rest. You are to offer your
left arm to the lady you are taking out, and you march around the place
in regular line, sometimes once, sometimes twice, and the agony is over.
The company assembled does not join in this ceremony, and the formation
of figures and countermarches is an affair in vogue at balls of a
different class, which I should imagine