MR. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones were commonplace people, but like him who cried because there were no more worlds to conquer, they were ambitious. There was one sphere within whose sacred precincts they could not enter, and they wanted-to be fashionable. They looked around-they beheld others, who, like themselves, had once been excluded from the "land of promise," and with a mighty resolution, determined to die or conquer-to overthrow the chevaux-de-frise surrounding Japonicadom, with "the impudence of wealth;" and at length—at length the charmed gates at which Mrs. Jones had sat in an agony of despair, burst open to her delighted gaze, and she rose in public estimation high as the frothy pyramids with which she ornamented her expensive suppers and baited her guests. refinement! Who would sit down in the year 1819, to a dinner on a square-table! Who would touch any but a Westphalia ham-drink champagne from a narrow glass-take a cup of tea from any but a silver urn-sit in any but a Louis Quatorze-kiss a baby that wore corals-notice an acquaintance with a last winter bonnet, or a visite instead of a Jenny Lind? Dear me! dear me! I have been thinking a long time, and don't know anybody that would! Mrs. Jones knew better for one-so did Mr. Jones; and while they were as vulgar as pride and ignorance could make them, learned to look upon themselves as "glasses of fashion and moulds of form." They had to labor for the distinction with a zeal worthy a better cause; and my readers shall have the benefit of their attempts if they are not already too tired to proceed. Mrs. Jones canvassed among her female acquaintances for popularity, by calling, flattering, cringing, and sending them delicacies made by her own fair hands; and Mr. Jones, who was very anxious to be "genteel," studied Chesterfield, and wondered what it meant. He belonged to one of the first families of a state, in which all the families were first-an universal right of distinction. His connections would have been titled in an aristocracy; but their respect for the American government made them condescend to be plain Misters, Madams, and Misses. After all, and in spite of the old copy that we have written, about the root of all evil, money is a "great invention;" especially here, where it bestows wit on fools, beauty on beasts, and covering the blots on all escutcheons, forces us to that promiscuous mingling which out-democrats democracy. How magnanimous it makes us! While the friends of the needy assist them down the hill of fortune and bid them farewell, they turn to help the lucky over its stepping stones, and lifting the pedlar's pack from his shoulders, rub them down, and push him into what we call "our first circle " And a pretty circle it would be, were the beginning known! But the shining gold that glitters through a handsome purse, is the passe par-sharp, black eyes, and high cheek bones, upon which tout; and like the princess in the fairy tale, nobody looks behind for fear of hobgoblin discoveries of his next door neighbor. Besides, reduced people are so contemptible! Put them out! With each new reign new peers arise, and so new houses should rear their tops over the old ones, when the owners are useless and the furniture tarnished. Mr. Jones himself was a little finnikin man, with rested two red spots like the remains of a fly-blister. He combed his hair into a stiff toupet, that made him look like an inverted furniture-brush, with the usual equivocal portrait of some very great individual upon it. Fortune particularly distinguished Mr. Jones and saved him the trial of an impossibility-the one of Such a generation as we are! Such an age of distinguishing himself. She gave him the key to every door when she made him wealthy, and in pure gratitude he converted his soul into a cent, and his heart into hard specie. Then, Fortune bestowed on him the would-beelegant Miss Pushaw, as high-born as himself; and he was certainly a happy man when he stood up with a bride whose dress was, like Margaret Overreach's, "sprinkled o'er with gold." He was soon dazzled by her maneuvering qualities, and touched by the congeniality of feeling which existed between them. An adoration of fine clothes, fine furniture, and fashionable people, was the sacred link that bound these loving hearts into one; and upon their removal from the country to the city, no marble-cutter labored harder, or struck more small pieces right and left, than did Mr. and Mrs. John Johnson Jones, when they fawned and flattered, and ran small errands for the neighbors that surrounded them, "the great Athenians." Mrs. Jones kept a small confectionary establishment in her pantry, for all the ladies who fell sick; and Mr. Jones was kind enough to open a cigar and drinking establishment for the gentlemen who were obliging enough to call. They progressed, however, slowly in the affections of the proud —ians, and were somewhat discouraged, but recollecting the pretty motto of "Hope on, hope ever," they did not despair, and contemplated taking larger strides toward gentility. Mrs. Jones had been originally called Sally, but changed the appellation for the softer one of Sara. Spring came on, and she resolved to follow the world of fashion to one of its favorite resorts, the little village of Quiproquo. She persuaded her loving spouse to rent one of its cottages; and covering some old sofas and chairs with new chintz, furnished it nicely and neatly enough to have satisfied the most fastidious. But to every visiter the same apology was made for its plainness; and Mrs. Jones informed them all that "her house in town was furnished elegunt, but she did n't like to bring out her mahogany cheers," while her husband's invariable rejoinder was, "Why, Sara, there are plenty more where them came from!" A mere playful allusion to the amount of his fortune, a fact he never lost sight of, and in time it had its due effect on his listeners. This house became at length the pied-à-terre for all the high-bred loungers that had nothing to do but smoke, drink, and play Boston in the summer months; the season of inevitable idleness for all Southerners of all professions-doctors excepted. Mrs. Jones talked very loud and very much du nez; she took all the empty speeches she listened to for witticisms, and was forever busy in the service of others, running about shaking a little basket of keys, to impress them with a due sense of her importance. bors into thinking the house was on fire until they were used to it. And Boston! and whist! there was no end to these favorite games, while the gossips of the village whispered that it was a very profitable amusement to Mr. Jones. But there was still a Mordecai at the gate of poor Mrs. Jones's soul. Many had called to see her, whose nod a few months previous was as great as Jove's from Mount Olympus; but like all who strive for much, she wanted more. There was one card whose reception would at once stamp her "a peer," give her the right to place the golden grasshopper in her hair; for Mrs. Macfuss was one of the proud Autochthones whose boast was that she had never been but the first among the first. She had been heard to say that she could not think of encouraging such persons as the Joneses! And such a speech from the cynosure of all eyes threw Mrs. Jones into hysterics. Mrs. Macfuss's house was the house par excellence; her suppers were given in the Hall of Apollo, where Lucullus supped with Lucullus. The dinners were triumphs of culinary art, over which the very spirit of Ude must have presided. Her toilette was ever in the most exquisite taste. Her dresses gave the ton, and her patronage decided the fate of a mantuamaker for life. The entire race of milliners would have credited her forever sooner than lose the honor of her custom; and she it was for whose favor poor Mrs. Jones pined in green and yellow melancholy. She cried for very spite, while Mr. Jones swore that he would trample on the d-n proud set after a while. They determined to make a mighty effort, and commenced preparations for a ball. Invitations were written on scented paper, and put into envelops with embossed vines and bouquets over the seal. These were sent to her new acquaintances, and the "picked and chosen" of her old ones; and breaking through the charmed rules of etiquette, Mrs. Jones's cards were slipped into some of the invitations and left at Mrs. Macfuss's for herself and family. A band of music was engaged, and every thing prepared on a large scale. Mrs. Jones was seen rushing in and out of the house in an old loose gown looking like-herself; sleeves up to her elbows, and said elbows covered with eggs, sugar and butter; while behind her ran Master Pushaw Jones, on a pair of hard fat, blue legs, his face besmeared with the same sweet compound that graced his mamma's arms, enlivening the scene with shrill screams for egg-shells, into which he concocted sundry messes that defy description. In every sunny spot around the house were tables covered with cakes like pyramids of snow, so white and smooth was the icing poured over them. In the kitchen were fowls roasting and hams boiling; turkeys innumerable in their tin houses, getting Mr. Jones's wine flowed freely, (so did his brandy basted and browned; and oysters getting plumped par parenthesis. Brandy-and-water drinking be- and pickled, peppered and spiced. There was more comes a solemn duty in the warm weather, among shuffling, running about, upsetting and breaking, than the inhabitants of Quiproquo.) Then the boxes of can be imagined, and fussing, to Mrs. Jones's conbest Havanas were fast emptied, and clouds of smoke tent. Baskets of champagne arriving from town; arose from the front piazza, frightening the neigh-blocks of ice; borrowed china and glass; lamps, |