commences with a circular riot, which leads to l’Ete.  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

[Illustration:  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.