IN HIGH LIFE.
fore her husband, she left the table ; on going through
the hall she saw a note in her husband's hat which she
found, upon reading, was from the seamstress, then in
her employ, appointing the time and place for a pri¬
She had not finished her history till she again got
into one of her mad fits. I told her husband what she
had said, but he told me there was no truth in her
story, it was only a freak of her fancy.
The carriage was ordered, and we went to the asy¬
lum. On reaching there we heard screaming and
shouting; some preaching, some praying, some blas¬
pheming. She at once said : "Oh, Iangy, this is the
mad-house, and they are going to put me in," and she
became, apparently, as well as she ever was in her life,
and was perfectly calm and collected. On reaching
the door two physicians came out; she took an arm
of each and walked in. On getting to the top of the
stairs she turned back and looked at me and bowed
her head. I burst into heartfelt tears, and I assure
you I wept freely. I never shall forget her look,
ehould I live a century.
I have several times, during my narrative, men¬
tioned dressing in Cincinnati, or its immediate neigh¬
borhood, one hundred and fifty brides. Many of them
were very lovely, but none more so than the tenth that
I dressed ; she was, indeed, a beautiful creature, and
was as lovely in her disposition as in her appearance.
She and her husband were universally beloved, not
only in Cincinnati, but wherever they chanced to go.
Their wedding was one of the largest ever witnessed
in this city—there having been nearly a thousand in¬
vitations sent out—and a gay and brilliant party it