the dressing-maid with needle and thread. Thus the fair and rounded arm, from the snowy shoulder to the tapering fingers, was, though partially exposed at home, literally in full dress when prepared for an evening-ball.

But, all this time, where is the carriage? It went early, to carry one of the managers, and was afterwards to bring the chaperone. Something has surely happened. Thomas watches at the front gate, and a little sister runs in and out through the hall-door with deceptive intelligence of approaching wheels. Time is wearing away, and the hour rapidly approaches when Washington, who was proverbially punctual, will be received at the entrance of the hall.

"I would not sleep! I love to be
Again in their fair company;
But, e'er my lips can bid them stay,
They pass and vanish quite away!
Alas! our memories may retrace
Each circumstance of time and place,
Season and scene come back again,
And outward things unchanged remain."
Golden Legend.

CONCERT HALL, in the last century, was said to offer the most commodious and elegant assembly-room to be found in the Union. Its exterior is still beautiful, though somewhat impaired by the neglect and dinge of passing years. The parties given there in the last century were usually very select, great pains being taken that they should not be over-crowded. Here was ample space for the graceful management of the hoop, and display of the sweeping train. Here, beside the regular assemblies, at frequent and stated intervals, were club-balls given by the bachelors; and another class of festive entertainments, which seems to have gone by with the century-invitations being occasionally issued by some single gentleman, resident or stranger, who, desirous to acknowledge and return the civilities shown to him,

and having no suitable residence, summoned his friends to this beautiful hall.

Tradition says these occasions were often very costly and splendid, varying in style and decoration in accordance with the taste or wealth of the host.

On the evening selected for the entertainment given to Washington, we will suppose the carriage bearing our young gentlewoman has traversed the short distance to this well-known spot, and, with her friend or relative, she is ushered into a cloak-room on the lower floor.

Here, to their great chagrin, they are informed that the President has already arrived, and the managers are occupied in making ceremonious presentations to him. And here we must suppose these ladies to be annoyingly detained, awaiting the leisure of some one of these gentlemen.

I have not received the account of Washington's entrance from an eye-witness; but tradition (and from an authentic source) says, that the illustrious guest was met by the managers at the door, and ushered by them with ceremonious respect to his raised seat at the further extremity of the hall; that most of the guests had arrived early, in order to witness his entrance and share in the reception; that he was greeted and announced by appropriate music; and that each person in the ball-room rose and remained standing as he passed up the room. Some persons of distinction were then presented, or, if previously known, paid their respects to the President. All the ladies present then passed in succession before him; each being formally and particularly introduced to him by name, and to each he gave his hand. Some were already known to him, and to these, and perhaps to others, he occasionally addressed a few words. Each lady, as she advanced, is believed to have been met and led forward by one of the masters of ceremony, while another stood by the President's side and announced her name. Each lady, as she passed, slowly bent in the low but stately courtesy of the old school. There was no hurry, no confusion-this the manners of the time would forbid.

When we recall the noted beauty of the ladies of that day, and picture to ourselves the voluminous folds of their peculiar dress-the flowing saque, with its length of train; "the hoop of two

door-way, they were able to summon to their aid the self-possession and dignity then so sedulously cultivated. In order to realize how trying the ordeal, we must remember that, lest any lady should be crowded or forgotten, all who were present had formed, as it were, in linethe gentlemen escorting them forward in long succession on one side of the room, and after the presentation they had passed on to the opposite side. Most of the gentlemen, meantime, having had other opportunities of paying their respects to the President, had fallen back in order better to view the ceremony, so that the centre of the hall was nearly vacant.

A raised dais, canopied over with costly tapestry, was at the upper extremity of the hall. The background and drapery, the couch or chairs, and even the floor was, I am told, covered with the same rare and beautiful material, which, though rich and unusual, was arranged simply, gracefully, and in perfect taste. This little dais, or staging, was of such a height that the President when seated could easily converse with those who were standing around him. But he did not occupy it while standing himself, as it placed him at an inconvenient elevation above his friends. Therefore he could not rise, but simply bent his head in acknowledging any further introductions. His manner is recalled at this day, as very gentle, and his voice remembered as clear and pleasant. His countenance and bearing have left a more distinct impression than his dress; but it was black, and the material appears to have been velvet, with rich lace and handsome shoe and knee-buckles.

Washington was seated when the group advanced, of which I have before spoken. I love to portray to myself the delicate and maidenly figure I have already sketched, as, her head bent in graceful reverence, with drooping eyelid and kindling cheek, she stood for a few moments before the hero so beloved and honored. The downcast eye, humid with one glistening tear, the result of so much emotion, lost in a glad, pleased smile, when her hand rested for a moment in his, and she listened to a few words of kindly greeting.

Though pleasant to recount the peronal experience of a youthful belle, this is the last glimpse the writer can afford of the young Bostonian, in whose anticipations and preparations we have so

closely sympathized. She passes on, and is lost to view in the crowd of her youthful cotemporaries, bearing away, however, from the brilliant scene many

a cherished recollection-recalled with pleasure in the vicissitudes of a prolonged life.

The return of the managers, who are full of animation, removes something of formality or stiffness, which so much ceremony had necessarily shed over the scene, though, during their short absence, the sunny face and genial manner of their associate, Mr. Russel, have done wonders. He has spoken to everybody, offering respectful homage where it was due, and distributing smiles, compliments, and playful jests wherever they are appropriate or acceptable. He neglects none of his multifarious duties, and appears to possess a sort of general ubiquity.

As nearly as I can discern, looking back so far, he wears a suit of a dark, rich color, like mulberry or claret, with something very resplendent about him. Whether this glitter is from gold embroidery upon the vest, or a sort of refulgence-an emanation from the heart and spirit of the man, all aglow to-night-I cannot undertake to decide.

There are many here with something of military display in dress and decoration. Heroic days were those which preceded these brilliant festivities, and many are here to-night who accompanied their peerless chief through dark and trying hours, many with whom, like the elder manager, this was no mere holiday garb, and whose wearers were something more and better than carpet knights.

Children and grandchildren, or, perhaps, still later descendants, might not approve the introduction here of their family names. Therefore, selecting from among those ladies who were the local celebrities of the time, I feel only at liberty to speak of Mrs. Hancock, who, as the wife of a public functionary, has already been noticed in print. She was a lady of distinguished presence, very stately and commanding, with much personal beauty, and occasional hauteur of carriage. She was fond of dress, and usually appeared in public in much sumptuousness of costume. Tonight the writer will not venture into details, but believes her dress to have been a brocade, the tissue of which was partly of green or blue silk, and partly of gold;

over this brilliant surface lay sprinkled, in the fashion of the time, bouquets of softly varied hue, embossed or finished with gold.

It was a custom of the time to distinguish a bride by marked and particular attention. On her first public appearance, after marriage, at an evening party, she was expected to open the festivities, either in a minuet or by leading in the contradance, and was usually the star of the evening, assuming much dignity and great elegance of attire. Matrons of long standing and acknowledged rank welcomed the young debutante into their circle, and, on such occasions, cordially yielded her precedence. Sometimes, two or more stars rose at once on the social horizon, their conflicting claims to these honors being very nicely adjusted by the discriminating masters of ceremony. The beautiful occasion of which I write was ornamented, tradition says, by the presence of a newly-married lady, of distinguished personal appearance, accomplished, elegant, and highly educated. Both bride and bridegroom belonged to families of some local prominence; but, on an evening like this, illustrated by the presence of so many strangers, the lady, though a favorite and much admired, very quietly yielded the honors, hers by prescriptive right.

A royal squadron of France was lying in the harbor, and the French admiral was present, with numerous ladies and gentlemen of his suite. These strangers were offered every mark of distinction, every proof of respect and regard, precedence being given them on all possible occasions.

Some of these gentlemen must have been actively engaged in our revolutionary contest; for, tradition says, they wore, among other decorations, a bald eagle, the badge of the Cincinnati Society, suspended on its blue and white ribbon, emblematic of the union of America with France.

Before we open the ball, I wish to allude to the published remarks of a foreign traveler, who, at a period antecedent to this, criticised the dancing of the Boston ladies, though he admitted their preeminent beauty. But manners and customs had changed since more than a hundred years ago. Mr. Peter Pelham, "over against the Quaker

meeting-house in Lindel's Row," taught dancing to our mothers' grandmothers, while his wife* assisted him in presiding over a little shop where he disposed of "The best Virginia Tobacco, Cut Pigtail, and Spun, of all sorts, by Wholesale and Retail,a t the cheapest Rates. Also Snuff."

Perhaps there were "too many strings to his bow," to enable it to do its best execution in the dancing-master's hand, as legends say he varied his occupations by teaching writing and arithmetic, also.

In the days of which I write, Concert Hall was not reserved exclusively for evening festivities, but, on its springy floor, old Master Turner, of honored memory, presided over the graces, and taught deportment and etiquette to the rising generation of his time. Here were practiced the profound and courtly bows, the low but stately courtesies of this truly old school. The young people were on their own ground when introduced to the evening assembly. Master Turner exacted great respect from his pupils, and always paid them the compliment of appearing at his school in powdered wig, with all the paraphernalia of full dress. He was driven to the door in his own vehicle, attended by his black servant, who had charge of the violin.

Both

His name is well remembered in the region where I write, as the son inherited his father's profession, and taught till within the present century. were of good standing, or, a more appropriate phrase, good footing, in society, belonging to the clubs, and other respectable associations of their day. But the father was, emphatically, a gentleman-conscientious, punctilious, and dignified. The mothers of that day intrusted the formation of their children's manners to one who not only taught the outward graces, but was capable of instilling the more sterling and noble qualities of chivalry, of honor, and of true courtesy. He would have quite scorned to teach those committed to his charge the peasant dances of Europe. I have made this mention of the old teacher because he had trained many who were the ornaments of this particular occasion.

One more little sketch ere the dance
I wish to make you ac-

commences.

quainted with Belstead, the head musician. He was peerless in his way. No music was inspiriting like his, especially late in the evening, when more inspirited himself. Before playing, he usually called for something to moisten the strings, and never considered his elbow sufficiently pliant until he had taken what he called the bender;" perhaps he originated the term since become so familiar. He knew each individual upon the floor; had his prejudices and his favorites; was full of spicy anecdotes and witty comments, and, with true instinct, could prophecy the triumphant belle foreshadowed in the youthful and unpracticed debutante.

I am sorry to be obliged to say, that a certain set of gay young gentlemen amused themselves, at times, by plying him with potent draughts, thus encouraging his genial and communicative moods.

In short, to speak in plain language, he was notoriously "apt to get fuddled;" but, in such a way, as to make his auditors and himself nearly equally merry. To-night, especially at a later hour, he-was-I regret to make the statement-but truth compels me to say -he was decidedly tipsy. Not so, however, as to lose, in any degree, his serene self-possession, or a fit sense of the dignity of the occasion.

What we should now consider a very early hour, was usually named in the last century on the cards of invitation, and not merely as a form-people really went at the appointed time.

It would seem our ancestors met to enjoy conversation as well as dancing; and, notwithstanding the old-fashioned ceremonial belonging to the time, these were really social occasions, bringing together persons of various age, who could each depend on meeting his cotemporaries and friends. The ladies liked to display their rich trains previous to looping them up for the dance; and there was always a gentle current of motion, as they swept up and down the margin of the hall, receiving the greeting of their friends, or acknowledging the presentation of strangers-ceremonies and particular introductions being more in vogue in those polite days than in our own. It will be seen the dancing did not commence at once, but when sufficient time had been allowed for all this preliminary etiquette and display, a low, warning note was heard

from Belstead's violin, and a slight stir and rustling might be observed among those who expected to occupy the floor.

At home, if a lady's free movements were impeded by her train, it was caught hastily up and drawn through the pocket-hole, bringing the fullness on one side, and giving a very airy and jaunty effect to the figure. It could thus be easily and quickly dropped, the wearer at once regaining her usual state on the approach of a visitor. In the ball-room, a more careful arrangement was necessary, and the train, excepting for a minuet, was made to fold under at a suitable length; being there secured by a loop, or some other convenient fastening. Young ladies applied to each other for assistance, and might be seen on every side, carefully adjusting the folds of each other's dress, and giving a graceful flow to the rich drapery. One of the duties of a chaperone was, to see that the train of her youthful charge was properly adjusted-and it was a common polite attention to offer a stranger. The stately minuet de la cour danced, or rather performed by two individuals, was then considered the most appropriate and elegant mode of commencing, or, as they phrased it, opening a ball.

The minuet has long been a popular tradition; but another manner of commencing evening festivities, more peculiar, perhaps, to New England, has never, I believe, had so wide a circulation. I allude to the "drawn-dance," where the chance partner was obtained by a species of lottery. Those famous old assemblies at Concert Hall usually commenced in this way, and very possibly it was one reason for the early and punctual attendance. It was a favorite custom, there being always great excitement and amusement for the spectators, as well as those more nearly concerned, in the odd chances or happy hits that would naturally occur. many ways it promoted a general ease and hilarity. It brought out all the dancers on the floor at once, giving to all the opportunity of easily greeting their friends as they came in contact in the changing figures of the dance. Strangers, or diffident young gentlemen not yet at home in society, were saved the embarrassment of seeking a partner, and to young ladies, with no pretensions to belleship, but some confidence in their own powers of pleasing if once

In