at her last _soiree_, has it at her next
one, and quotes discreet Mrs. G. as her precedent. Mrs. P. is greatly
scandalized at this, because Mrs. G. is a member of the church, and Mr.
D. a leading temperance orator; but since _they will do it_, it is not
for her to be nice, and so she follows the fashion.

Mrs. N. comes home from church on Sunday, rolling up her eyes with
various appearances of horror and surprise.

"Well! I am going to give up trying to restrain my girls from dressing
extravagantly; it's of no use trying!--no use in the world."

"Why, mother, what's the matter?" exclaimed the girls aforesaid,
delighted to hear such encouraging declarations.

"Why, didn't you see Mrs. K.'s daughters sitting in the pew before us
with _feathers_ in their bonnets? If Mrs. K. is coming out in this way,
_I_ shall give up. I shan't try any longer. I am going to get just what
I want, and dress as much as I've a mind to. Girls, you may get those
visites that you were looking at at Mr. B.'s store last week!"

The next Sunday, Mrs. K.'s girls in turn begin:--

"There, mamma, you are always lecturing us about economy, and all that,
and wanting us to wear our old mantillas another winter, and there are
Mrs. N.'s girls shining out in new visites."

Mamma looks sensible and judicious, and tells the girls they ought not
to see what people are wearing in church on Sundays; but it becomes
evident, before the week is through, that she has not forgotten the
observation. She is anxiously pricing visites, and looking thoughtful as
one on the eve of an important determination; and the next Sunday the
girls appear in full splendor, with new visites, to the increasing
horror of Mrs. N.

So goes the shuttlecock back and forward, kept up on both sides by most
judicious hands.

In like manner, at a modern party, a circle of matrons sit in edifying
conclave, and lament the degeneracy of the age.

"These parties that begin at nine o'clock and end at two or three in the
morning are shameful things," says fat Mrs. Q., complacently fanning
herself. (N. B. Mrs. Q. is plotting to have one the very next week, and
has come just to see the fashions.)

"O, dreadful, dreadful!" exclaim, in one chorus, meek Mrs. M., and tall
Mrs. F., and stiff Mrs. J.

"They are very unhealthy," says Mrs. F.

"They disturb all family order," says Mrs. J.

"They make one so sleepy the next day," says Mrs. M.

"They are very laborious to get up, and entirely us