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The next time New York's toad-eaters give a bal-masque they should disguise themselves as American sovereigns and their consorts. Of course it will be a trifle difficult for them to play the part of respectable people; but they will find even awkward effort in that direction refreshing, and calculated to inspire them with respect for their country's flag.
As the Judge passes silently in she pats him encouragingly on the back, saying, "There ain't no one in this house what'll hurt a hair on your head." The Judge heeds not what she says. "My honor for it, Madame, but I think your guests highly favored, altogether! Fine weather, and the prospect of a bal-masque of Pompeian splendor. The old Judge, eh?" "The gods smile-the gods smile, Mr.
A real despair would not have allowed him to seek amusement at the bal-masque, in which case the exciting events of the last few days would not have happened. The result of this was, that the chevalier remained convinced that he was incapable of a deep love, and that he was only destined for those charming wickednesses so much in vogue.
Soloman Snivel, commonly called Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man, is at the house of Madame Flamingo, endeavoring to effect a reconciliation between the Judge and George Mullholland. NIGHT has thrown her mantle over the city. There is a great gathering of denizens at the house of Madame Flamingo. She has a bal-masque to-night. Her door is beset with richly-caparisoned equipages.
Masks, like on the stages of the Greeks and the Romans, were used, hence the title Mask, or Masque, as it is sometimes written both ways. In the days of Elizabeth the custom was also practised in the Elizabethean Masque. The Masquerade and the Masked ball, or Bal-Masque, are survivals of this ancient custom.
Soloman Snivel, commonly called Mr. Soloman, the accommodation man, is at the house of Madame Flamingo, endeavoring to effect a reconciliation between the Judge and George Mullholland. Night has thrown her mantle over the city. There is a great gathering of denizens at the house of Madame Flamingo. She has a bal-masque to-night. Her door is beset with richly-caparisoned equipages.
As the Judge passes silently in she pats him encouragingly on the back, saying, "There ain't no one in this house what'll hurt a hair on your head." The Judge heeds not what she says. "My honor for it, Madame, but I think your guests highly favored, altogether! Fine weather, and the prospect of a bal-masque of Pompeian splendor. The old Judge, eh?" "The gods smile the gods smile, Mr.
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