Salmagundi; or, The whim-whams and opinions of Launcelot Langstaff, esq. [pseud.] and others. By William Irving, James Kirke Paulding and Washington Irving. Printed from the original ed., with a preface and notes by Evert A. Duyckinck.

LITTLE OLD WOMAN. 377
cold perspirations, and troubled sleep; rises late next morning,
if she rises at all, is nervous, petulant, or a prey to languid indifference all day-a mere household spectre, neither giving nor
receiving enjoyment-in the evening hurries to another dance;
receives an unnatural exhilaration from the lights, the music,
the crowd, and the unmeaning bustle; flutters, sparkles, and
blooms for awhile until, the transient delirium being past, the
infatuated maid droops and languishes into apathy again; is
again led off to her carriage, and the next morning rises to go
through exactly the same joyless routine.
And yet, wilt thou believe it, my dear Raggi, these are
rational beings-nay, more, their countrymen would fain persuade me they have souls I Is it not a thousand times to be
lamented that beings, endowed with charms that might warm
even the frigid heart of a dervise-with social and endearing
powers that would render them the joy and pride of the harem
— should surrender themselves to a habit of heartless dissipation,
which preys imperceptibly on the roses of the cheek-which robs
the eye of its lustre, the mouth of its dimpled smile, the spirits
of their cheerful hilarity, and the limbs of their elastic vigorwhich hurries them off in the spring-time of existence; or, if
they survive, yields to the arms of a youthful bridegroom a
frame wrecked in the storms of dissipation, and struggling with
premature infirmity. Alas, Muley I may I not ascribe to this
cause, the number of little old women I meet with in this
country from the age of eighteen to eight-and-twenty.
In sauntering down the room, my attention was attracted by
a smoky painting, which, on nearer examination, I found consisted of two female figures crowning a bust with a wreath of
laurel. "This, I suppose," cried I, "was some famous dancer
in his time?" "Oh, no," replied my friend, "he was only a