FullReads

“What shall I go as?” was the universal cry. Garrets were taken by storm, cherished relics were teased out of old ladies’ lavendered chests (happy she who saw them again!), hats were made into boots, gowns into doublets, cloaks into hose, Sunday bonnets despoiled of their plumage, silken cauliflowers sown broadcast over the land, and cocked-up caps erected in every style of architecture, while “Tag, Rag, and Bobtail” drove a smashing business, and everybody knew what everybody else was going to be, and solemnly vowed they didn’t–which transparent falsehood was the best joke of the whole.

Dolly allowed her mates to believe she was to be the Queen of Hearts, but privately laid hold of certain brocades worn by a trim grandmother half a century ago, and one evening burst upon her brother in a charming “Little Bo-Peep” costume, which, for the benefit of future distressed damsels, may be described as a “white silk skirt, scarlet overdress neatly bundled up behind,” as ancient ladies expressed it, blue hose with red clocks, high-heeled shoes with silver buckles, a nosegay in the tucker, and a fly-way hat perched in this case on the top of black curls, which gave additional archness to Dolly’s face as she entered, singing that famous ditty.

Dick surveyed her with approval, turning her about like a lay figure, and expressing his fraternal opinion that she was “the sauciest little turn-out he ever saw,” and then wet-blanketed the remarks by adding, “Of course you don’t call it a disguise, do you? and don’t flatter yourself that you won’t be known; for Dolly Ward is as plainly written in every curl, bow, and gimcrack, as if you wore a label on your back.”

“Then I shan’t wear it;” and off went the hat at one fell blow, as Dolly threw her crook in one corner, her posy in another, and sat down an image of despair.

“Now don’t be a goose, and rip everything to bits; just wear a domino over all, as Fan is going to, and then, when you’ve had fun enough, take it off and do the pretty. It will make two rigs, you see, and bother the boys to your heart’s content.”

“Dick, I insist upon kissing you for that brilliant suggestion; and then you may run and get me eight yards of cambric, just the color of Fan’s; but if you tell any one, I’ll keep her from dancing with you the whole evening;” with which bribe and threat Dolly embraced her brother, and shut the door in his face, while he, putting himself in good humor by imagining she was somebody else, departed on his muddy mission.

If the ghosts of the first settlers had taken their walks abroad on the eventful Friday night, they would have held up their shadowy hands at the scenes going on under their venerable noses; for strange figures flitted through the quiet streets, and instead of decorous slumber, there was decidedly,–“A sound of revelry by night”

Spurs clanked and swords rattled over the frosty ground, as if the British were about to make another flying call; hooded monks and nuns paced along, on carnal thoughts intent; ancient ladies and bewigged gentlemen seemed hurrying to enjoy a social cup of tea, and groan over the tax; barrels staggered and stuck through narrow ways, as if temperance were still among the lost arts, while bears, apes, imps, and elves pattered or sparkled by, as if a second Walpurgis Night had come, and all were bound for Blocksberg.

“Hooray for the Rooster!” shouted young Ireland, encamped on the sidewalk to see the show, as Mephistopheles’ red cock’s feather skimmed up the stairs, and he left a pink domino at the ladies’ dressing-room door, with the brief warning, “Now cut your own capers and leave me to mine,” adding, as he paused a moment at the great door,–

“By Jove! isn’t it a jolly sight, though?”

And so it was; for a mammoth boot stood sentinel at the entrance; a Bedouin Arab leaned on his spear in one corner, looking as if ready to say,–