" He was a dark quadroon, his hair slightly powdered, dressed in
a light blue coat thrown well back, to show his lily-white waistcoat,
only one button of which he could afford to button to make full room for
the pride of his heart, the frill of his shirt, which really was _un
Jabot superb_, four inches wide, and extending from his collar to the
waistband of his nankeen tights, which were finished off at his knees
with huge bunches of ribbon; his legs were encased in silk stockings,
which, however, was not very good taste on his part, as they showed the
manifest advantage which an European has over a coloured man in the
formation of the leg: instead of being straight, his shins curved like a
cheese-knife, and, moreover, his leg was planted into his foot like the
handle into a broom or scrubbing-brush, there being quite as much of the
foot on the heel side as on the toe side. Such was the appearance of Mr
Apollo Johnson, whom the ladies considered as the _ne plus ultra _of
fashion, and the _arbiter elegantiarum_. His _bow-tick_, or
fiddle-stick, was his wand, whose magic rap on the fiddle produced
immediate obedience to his mandates. "Ladies and gentle, take your
seats." All started up. "Miss Eurydice, you open de ball."
Miss Eurydice had but a sorry partner, but she undertook to instruct me.
O'Brien was our _vis-a-vis_ with Miss Euterpe. The other gentlemen were
officers from the ships, and we stood up twelve, checkered brown and
white, like a chess-board.
Pages:
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376