mbarrassment; and the method I propose would
effectually remove any thing of the sort. There could be no want of an
object on which to rest them; no looking with a fixed gaze over the
partner's shoulder; no consulting of the cornice; no care-fraught
expression; no reluctant or displeased look, as if the lady would have
fain declined; no indeterminate thoughts, no indefinite sensations; no
languishment; and above all never more the portentous, the ominous look
which often in that entrancing dance exhibits to us the mysticism of the
Sybil, without one ray of her inspiration.

No; then would the lady look, read, decide, and dance the while. 'This
might do!'--then would she sparkle. 'Ah this would never do!'--then would
she become placid, tranquil, and complete her tour with contentment; for
as I think some one else has before me wisely observed, _the end of doubt
is the beginning of repose_. Then would the faces of the ladies generally
become vastly more attractive than at present during the enjoyment of the
waltz; for singular as may seem the remark, although I have assisted at
several New-York balls, I have met two countenances only throughout the
whole galaxy of beauty that, in dancing the Waltz, have indicated either
joy or undisturbed gratification: the one, is that of a little sylph-like
beam of pleasure, who might well carry upon her beautiful hair,
'unincumbered lots,' as her wedding-portion; who gains our hearts while
she laughs at us; and who, because I chance to be within half a score of
her father's years, threatens to call me her _vieux cheri_--while the name
of the other, if I dared write it, would recall the most tasteful and
fashionable costumes of France, with the sweetest poetry of Scotland.

But alas my master! I have gone prattling on without saying a word of my
own pretensions until my letter has gained such a length that I am forced
to defer them to another number, while I subscribe myself, dear Mr. Editor
of the KNICKERBOCKER,

Your most faithful servant,
JAMES JESSAMINE.

LOVE'S ELYSIUM.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF MATTHISSON BY WILLIAM PITT PALMER.

GROVE! embathed in peace celestial,
As in dew the rose's bowers,
Where Hesperia's golden fruitage
Ripens amid silver flowers;
Where a rosy-colored ether
Ever cloudless bends above,
Through whose calm abysses never
Breathed the si