Everything was in the same
proportion.
Mr. Waffles' succession to the hunt made a great commotion among the
fair--many elegant and interesting young ladies, who had been going on the
pious tack against the Reverend Solomon Winkeyes, the popular bachelor
preacher of St. Margaret's, teaching in his schools, distributing his
tracts, and collecting the penny subscriptions for his clothing club, now
took to riding in fan-tailed habits and feathered hats, and talking about
leaping and hunting, and riding over rails. Mr. Waffles had a pound of
hat-strings sent him in a week, and muffatees innumerable. Some, we are
sorry to say, worked him cigar-cases. He, in return, having expended a vast
of toil and ingenuity in inventing a 'button,' now had several dozen of
them worked up into brooches, which he scattered about with a liberal hand.
It was not one of your matter-of-fact story-telling buttons--a fox with
'TALLY-HO,' or a fox's head grinning in grim death--making a red
coat look like a miniature butcher's shamble, but it was one of your
queer-twisting lettered concerns, that may pass either for a military
button or a naval button, or a club button, or even for a livery button.
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