AN INSANE BALL.

AS I was sitting reading in my room not long ago, my chum suddenly rushed in, and saluted me with - "Hullo, John, do you want to go to the Insane Asylum?"

"As an inmate, do you mean?" I asked coldly.

"Oh nonsense! " said Fred. "Don't you want to go to one of the balls that are given for the people over at Somerville? Quite a party of us are going."

I allowed myself to be persuaded, and one fine evening we drove over, attired in full evening-dress.

My chum proposed to introduce me as the Khan of Tartary; and since each one had to choose some lofty name, I became a Khan, and made no more puns the rest of the evening.

A dance was in progress when we arrived, and I was much surprised to see one old gentleman dancing gravely around alone. I inquired the reason. "He fancies himself the Pope," said one of the attendants, "and thinks that no one here is good enough to dance with him; and so he dances all by himself."

There were also two men dressed in white that excited my curiosity. One of them, I was told, imagined, curiously enough, that good manners had died out at Yale, and that he was the Ghost of Manners! The other imagined himself the devil, and had on a sign, "The Devil is More often White than He is Painted." His capitals were peculiar, but the idea was good.

Just then up came Fred.

"Shall I introduce you to the Angel Gabriel?" said he.

"The Angel Gabriel?" I repeated; "why, I want a lady to dance with"

"Well, the Angel is a lady to-night," he answered, "and a very pretty one too."

We were introduced, and I began: "Miss Gabriel - "

"Don't be impertinent, young man," said she. "You must be more respectful, or I will give a bad account of you on the Last Day."

"I 'm sure, I beg your pardon," I replied; "but where are your wings?"

She shrugged her shoulders like a French woman. "Don't you see them?" she asked. Of course I had to see them, so I remarked that they were very pretty. "Young man," she began again, "have you any peanuts with you?"

I was next presented to Amy Robsart, who asked me so many questions about Queen Elizabeth - Lizzie, as she called her - that I mentally vowed I would take a course in History next year. She said she would be even with Varney yet, and asked if I knew his address. I said I did not, but suggested that the Angel Gabriel would be likely to know.

"Ah, poor thing!" said Amy; "have you seen her? She is utterly out of her mind, and talks of nothing but Jacob's ladder. Do you think that Leicester will come to see me soon?"

It would be tedious to relate all the conversations I had that night. Suffice it to say, that I danced with Marie Antoinette, Queen Victoria, Barnum's Fat Woman (who came just up to my shoulder, and was very slight), the Goddess of Liberty, and several reigning princesses. I came away feeling that I had never been in such distinguished company before, and should recommend to any one afflicted with the blues a visit to a ball at Somerville. The cure would be complete.