rselves, the crowd standing around and
manifesting the most intense appreciation of our efforts. All went on
very well for a while. Up and down the room, and round and round we
whirled, and at every whirl there was a murmur of admiration and
applause. My beautiful partner shook her sides as if convulsed with an
earthquake--I could feel the motion, but was unable to conjecture the
cause. Possibly she was getting agitated--or it might be that
sentiments of tenderness were stealing over her heart. That idea, or
something else, confused me. I struck out one foot a little awkwardly.
She tripped against it, whirled me half round in attempting to gain
her balance, and then we fell. It was very awkward. What rendered it
still more unpleasant, every body began to laugh. People always do
laugh at the misfortunes of others. I would have picked the young lady
up at once, or at least tried it (for she was rather heavy), but the
fact is, I fell underneath, and was utterly unable to move. Had I been
pinned and riveted to the floor, I could not have been in a more
helpless position. A man whose natural instincts are polite is surely
a subject of sympathy and commiseration under such a pressure of
difficulties as this. I breathed hard, but was unable to get out a
single word of apology, till, with, a laugh and a bound, my fair
partner regained her feet, and then she very good-naturedly assisted
me in regaining mine. Mortified beyond measure, I conducted her to a
seat. As I was passing out of the room soon after, a new waltz struck
up. The dancers went at it again as lively as ever. I turned to see
what had become of my partner. She was whirling over the floor with
undiminished energy in the arms of a young gentleman in military
uniform. He may have been more accustomed to waltzing than I was, but
I think any person present--not excepting the young lady
herself--would have been willing to admit that his style did not
compare with mine in force and individuality. It certainly produced no
such effect upon the audience.

I walked back to town a sober and thoughtful man. This dancing
business is a very foolish pastime. It may do very well for giddy and
thoughtless young persons, but for men of mature years it is the
height of folly. I am surprised that they should be led aside from
their customary propriety by the fascinations of beauty.

The sun was just setting. Its last rays rested upon the ruined walls
of the Observatory. I followed a