he other. For so habituated were the
dancers to their fascinating exercise, that they were always ready to go
at the word, like trained horses. And certainly the dancing was
beautiful. He had never seen gentlemen move so gracefully and
dexterously in a crowded room as these young Americans did. Le Roi and
Roewenberg, who, by virtue of their respective nationalities, were bound
to be good dancers, looked positively awkward alongside of the natives.
As to the ladies, they glided, and swam, and realized all the
so-often-talked-of-and-seldom-seen "poetry of motion." Indeed Ashburner
thought they did it too well. He thought of Catiline's friend,
commemorated by Sallust, who "danced better than became a modest woman."
He thought some of their displays were a little operatic, and that he
had seen something like them at certain balls in Paris--_not_ the balls
of the Faubourg St. Germain. He thought that the historian's aphorism
might be extended to the male part of the company,--and that they danced
better than became intelligent men. He thought--but as he prudently kept
thoughts to himself, and as some of his foreign prejudice may have been
at the bottom of them, we will not stop to record them all. By and by
there was a quadrille for the benefit of the million, during which the
exclusives rested, and Ashburner had full opportunity of observing them.
The first thing that struck him was the extreme youth of the whole set,
and more especially of the masculine portion of it. Old men there were
none. The old women, that is to say, the mammas and aunts, were stuck
into corners out of the way, and no one took any notice of them.
Hamilton White was quite an old beau by comparison--almost
superannuated. Sumner would have been nearly off the books but for his
very superior dancing. Even Benson seemed a middle-aged man compared
with the majority of "our set," who averaged between boys of seventeen
and young men of twenty-four. And the more juvenile the youth, the
larger and stiffer was his white tie. Some of these neck-fastenings were
terrific to behold, standing out a foot on each side of the wearer. All
the Joinvilles that Ashburner had ever seen, on all the gents in London
or elsewhere, faded into insignificance before these portentous cravats.
He could not help making some observations on this fashion to Benson, as
he encountered him promenading with a fair _polkiste_.

"Did you ever notice the whiffletrees of my team-trotting wagon,