a crimson waistcoat, and a pendulating eye-glass.

ALSO,

1. —A young lady in pink-gauze and freckles.
2. —Ditto in book-muslin and marabouts.
3. —Ditto with blonde and a slight cast.
4. —Ditto in her 24th year, and black satin.

The four gentlemen present themselves to the four ladies, and having smirked and “begged the honour,” the four pairs take their station in the room in the following order:

During eight bars of music, tip, crimson, camellia, and wristbands, bow to freckles, slight cast, marabouts, and black satin, who curtsey in return, and then commence

LA PANTALON,

by performing an intersecting figure that brings all parties exactly where they were; which joyous circumstance is celebrated by bobbing for four bars opposite to each other, and then indulging in a universal twirl which apparently offends the ladies, who seize hold of each other’s hands only to leave go again, and be twirled round by the opposite gentleman, who, having secured his partner, promenades her half round to celebrate his victory, and then returns to his place with his partner, performing a similar in-and-out movement as that which commenced la Pantalon.

L’ETE

is a much more respectful operation. Referring to our previous arrangement, wristbands and freckles would advance and retire—then they would take two hops and a jump to the right, then two hops and a jump to the left—then cross over, and there hop and jump the same number of times and come back again, and having celebrated their return by bobbing for four bars, they twirl their partners again, and commence

LA POULE.

The crimson waistcoat and marabouts would shake hands with their right, and then cross over, and having shaken hands again with the left, come back again. They then would invite the camellia and the slight cast to join them, and perform a kind of wild Indian dance “all of a row.” After which they all walk to the sides they have no business upon, and then crimson runs round marabout, and taking his partner’s hand, i.e., the slight cast, introduces her to camellia and marabout, as though they had never met before. This introduction is evidently disagreeable, for they instantly retire, and then rush past each other, as furiously as they can, to their respective places.

LA TRENISE

is evidently intended to “trot out” the dancers. Freckles and black satin shake hands as they did in la Pantalon, and then freckles trots tip out twice, and crosses over to the opposite side to have a good look at him; having satisfied her curiosity, she then, in company with black satin, crosses over to have a stare at the violent wristbands, in contrast with tip who wriggles over, and join him, and then, without saying a word to each other, bob, and are twirled as in l’Eté.

LA PASTORALE

seems to be an inversion of la Trenise, except that in nineteen cases out of twenty, the waistcoat, tip, camellia and wristbands, seem to undergo intense mental torture; for if there be such a thing as “poetry of motion,” pastorale must be the “Inferno of Dancing.”

LA FINALE

commences with a circular riot, which leads to l’Eté. The ladies then join hands, and endeavour to imitate the graceful evolutions of a windmill, occasionally grinding the corns of their partners, who frantically rush in with the quixotic intention of stopping them. A general shuffling about then takes place, which terminates in a bow, a bob, and “allow me to offer you some refreshment.”

Malheureux! we have devoted so much space to the quadrille, that we have left none for the supper, which being a cold one, will keep till next week.

THE GENTLEMAN’S OWN BOOK.

We are ashamed to ask our readers to refer to our last article under the title of the “Gentleman’s Own Book,” for the length of time which has elapsed almost accuses us of disinclination for our task, or weariness in catering for the amusement of our subscribers. But September—September, with all its allurements of flood and field—its gathering of honest old friends—its tales of by-gone seasons, and its glorious promises of the present—must plead our apology for abandoning our pen and rushing back to old associations, which haunt us like

THE SPELLS OF CHILDHOOD.

We know that we are forgiven, so shall proceed at once to the consideration of the ornaments and pathology of coats.

THE ORNAMENTS

are those parts of the external decorations which are intended either to embellish the person or garment, or to notify the pecuniary superiority of the wearer. Amongst the former are to be included buttons, braids, and mustachios; amongst the latter, chains, rings, studs, canes, watches, and above all, those pocket talismans, purses. There are also riding-whips and spurs, which may be considered as implying the possession of quadrupedal property.

Of Buttons.—In these days of innovation—when Brummagem button-makers affect a taste and elaboration of design—a true gentleman should be most careful in the selection of this dulce et utile contrivance. Buttons which resemble gilt acidulated drops, or ratafia cakes, or those which are illustrative of the national emblems—the rose, shamrock, and thistle tied together like a bunch of faded watercresses, or those which are commemorative of coronations, royal marriages, births, and christenings, chartist liberations, the success of liberal measures, and such like occasions, or those which would serve for vignettes for the Sporting Magazine, or those which at a distance bear some resemblance to the royal arms, but which, upon closer inspection, prove to be bunches of endive, surmounted by a crown which the Herald’s College does not recognise, or those which have certain letters upon them, as the initials of clubs which are never heard of in St. James’s, as the U.S.C.—the Universal Shopmen’s Club; T.Y.C.—the Young Tailors’ Club; L.S.D.—the Linen Drapers’ Society—and the like. All these are to be fashionably eschewed. The regimental, the various hunts, the yacht clubs, and the basket pattern, are the only buttons of Birmingham birth which can be allowed to associate with the button-holes of a gentleman.

The restrictions on silk buttons are confined chiefly to magnitude. They must not be so large as an opera ticket, nor so small as a silver penny.

Of Braids.—This ornament, when worn in the street, is patronised exclusively by Polish refugees, theatrical Jews, opera-dancers, and boarding-house fortune-hunters.

Of Mustachios.—The mustachio depends for its effect entirely upon its adaptation to the expression of the features of the wearer. The small, or moustache à la chinoise, should only appear in conjunction with Tussaud, or waxwork complexions, and then only provided the teeth are excellent; for should the dental conformation be of the same tint, the mustachios would only provoke observation. The German, or full hearth-brush, should be associated with what Mr. Ducrow would