nner, which fashion had
never sullied, it really was impossible to gaze upon the extraordinary
brilliancy of her radiant countenance, to watch the symmetry of her
superb figure, and to listen to the artless yet lively observations
uttered by a voice musical as a bell, without being fairly bewitched.

When we first enter society, we are everywhere; yet there are few, I
imagine, who, after a season, do not subside into a coterie. When the
glare of saloons has ceased to dazzle, and we are wearied with the
heartless notice of a crowd, we require refinement and sympathy. We find
them, and we sink into a clique. And after all, can the river of life
flow on more agreeably than in a sweet course of pleasure with those
we love? To wander in the green shade of secret woods and whisper our
affection; to float on the sunny waters of some gentle stream, and
listen to a serenade; to canter with a light-hearted cavalcade over
breezy downs, or cool our panting chargers in the summer stillness of
winding and woody lanes; to banquet with the beautiful and the witty; to
send care to the devil, and indulge the whim of the moment; the priest,
the warrior and the statesman may frown and struggle as they like; but
this is existence, and this, this is Elysium!

So Proserpine deemed when, wearied with the monotony of the great
world, she sought refuge in the society of Dido and Atalanta, Achilles,
Amphion, and Patroclus or Memnon. When AEneas found that Dido had become
fashionable, he made overtures for a reconciliation, but Dido treated
him with calm contempt. The pious AEneas, indeed, was the aversion of
Proserpine. He was the head of the Elysian saints, was president of a
society to induce the Gnomes only to drink water, and was so horrified
at the general conduct of the Elysians, that he questioned the decrees
of Minos and Rhadamanthus, who had permitted them to enter the happy
region so easily. The pious AEneas was of opinion that everybody ought to
have been damned except himself. Proserpine gave him no encouragement.
Achilles was the finest gentleman in Elysium. No one dressed or rode
like him. He was very handsome, very witty, very unaffected, and had an
excellent heart. Achilles was the leader of the Elysian youth, who were
indeed devoted to him: Proserpine took care, therefore, that he should
dangle in her train. Amphion had a charming voice for a supper after the
opera. He was a handsome little fellow, but not to be depended upon.
H