Extravagance in New York.
FAR away the dull boom of cannon, the shrill, sharp report of musketry, the shrieks and groans of the dying, may be heard. There the brave soldiers of the North are battling to preserve our glorious Union. We hear none of those direful sounds here—take no heed of them in this gay and crowded metropolis. Here fashion and pleasure, not grim war, reign supreme. Here music and festivity are the order of the day, not carnage and strife. Never was New York so brilliant, so captivating. We never before made such active preparations for a season of enjoyment and gayety. Our elite, our aristocracy of money, our shoddy people, have run their mad race of extravagance and show at the fashionable watering places, and are returning to commence in the city a season of unparalleled display. All classes are taking advantage of the recklessness and extravagance of the day. Now that pleasure, fashion and expenditure rule our people, those who cater to this spirit of extravagance have become as daring and reckless as the crowds they serve, and are playing a game of follow the leader which would have driven the past generation wild with dismay. Our theaters and other places of amusement have increased their price fifty per cent; but this has had no effect upon the masses. On the contrary, it is a noticeable fact, a sign of the times, that since the increase of prices, the audiences have increased in number. In short, increase is the order of the day. Once upon a time people were content to drive two horses, and even one, before their carriages. This summer nothing short of a four in hand, was considered the ton at Newport and such places where some of the extra refined shoddy gentlemen drove as many as ten or twelve magnificent horses at a time. The ladies, in a spirit of emulation, got up pony teams, but were not content to drive a pair. They harnessed three and then five, together, and had postillions and outriders, and made a show which grew greater as the season lasted. The mind becomes bewildered when reflecting upon what would have occurred had the season not drawn to a close. Taking its cue from the extravagance of the summer season, the city is preparing to outshine itself during the fall and winter. The theaters have brightened up and refitted, and have as we have said above, raised their prices. The negro minstrels have been seized by this contagious spirit of increase, and their prices have been raised. Our fashionable shops—milliner, and such like—have given themselves up to the mania of high prices with an abandonment which is fearfully admirable. A lady's bonnet—a little piece of velvet and a flower—to cap the climax, now costs one hundred dollars, and cannot be manufactured fast enough to supply the demand. Silks, satins and laces now cost their weight in green backs. Gloves are worth what was formerly considered a week's salary for many people, while other styles of dress have increased in like ratio. The wonder of it all is that, spite of these high prices, the consumption is greater than ever. But never before was the general expenditure of the citizens of this metropolis so liberal, so extravagant.—N. Y. Herald.