a teetotum. What became of Mr. Springer and Mr. Pickwick all this time I know not-I had seen each in the dual number flitting before my eyes, but now I caught sight of them in reality, either engaged in a quadrille opposite each other. The lighter body of Mr. Springer seemed to fly off in a much more extended orbit than the graver Mr. Pickwick, who appeared only to revolve on his own axis, while Mr. Springer's orbit was as incalculable as that of a comet. I rubbed my eyes, and found his dancing perfection. A small circle of admirers were grouped around the dance, all gaping with wonder at his surprising grace and agility. We thought his feet never touched the boards, but that he dangled from the ceiling by some invisible means. I am not versed in dancing terms, and cannot therefore describe what I saw performed, but I know I shall never forget it. Mr. Pickwick did not appear to have a perfect idea of the necessary squares, triangles, and circles that ought to have been described on the given area; but no matter, Mr. Springer actually executed his own share, and Mr. Pickwick's also, so that my friend had a perfect sinecure. I made up my mind that if I danced, I would dance opposite Mr. Springer, who would no doubt aid me in a similar manner. The fiddles now pulled up as short as a carrot, as Sam Weller would have said, and I heard a few murmurs of "bravo," that's something like dancing," &c., as the group dispersed. Mr. Springer led his fair lady to her seat, and bent a bow over her, graceful as the weeping willow. Mr. Pickwick followed, but his bow had more of the sturdy oak nature about it, which, no doubt, is the most becoming kind for an Englishman. Mr. Springer's quick eye did not lose sight of me for a moment; there was a fascination in it that rivetted me motionless to the spot on which I stood. It seemed to sparkle forth " By Jupiter! I have you-you sha'n't escape me-dance you shall, willing or not." It was of no use to rebel-the wisest way was to resign myself to my fate. Thus, cowering under the glance of Mr. Springer, and subsequently led by his protecting hand. I was marched up in due form to be presented to Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole. I had scarce ascended from my descending bow, when three similar descents were required of me one for Miss Fitzherbert O'Toole, a second for Miss Janetta Fitzherbert O'Toole, and a third for Miss Wilhelmina Fitzherbert O'Toole. Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole seemed quite a woman of the world, and began talking to me with extreme volubility, and a strong Irish accent. This condescension on her part set me much at my ease, and spared me the trouble of asking the ladies to dance, for their mamma said, " Mr. Winkle, I am delighted to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I hope we shall be great friends; you'll dance the next three dances with my daughters, and I'll claim you mysilf for the next waltz." I was confused, and muttered something about never having waltzed; but Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole, like a true lady of fashion, caught not my sounds, but seemed bent on talking them down. A prelude was now played by the band, and Mr. Springer flew off in a tangent, exclaiming, "Excuse me, I'm going to dance with Lady Mary Deerhurst." Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole resumed, "Now, Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Winkle, to your places with my two eldest daughters, the first eight brs are played-be quick.” The two young ladies named locked us firm up to the elbow, and at a run conducted Mr. Pickwick and myself to a ring of chalk described on the floor, with some brass stanchions, and ropes on two sides of it. I confess I felt as nervous as if I had been led into a ring for a prize-fight, with the young lady for my backer. 66 Willy," said Miss Janetta, for this latter was my partner, dance opposite you, darling." 66 we “To be sure we do," responded Miss Wilhelmina, who, it is useless to add, was Mr. Pickwick's partner. Luckily for us, the side of the quadrille fell to our lot, so that we had an opportunity of studying our parts a little from the dance beginning "at t'other ind of the circle," as my partner prettily expressed it. There were only eight of us in each ring, and outside a crowd of spectators, kept off by the ropes. The top of the quadrille was formed by two officers of the Gloucester militia in uniform, who, after the custom of officers in general, had selected two very pretty partners. The two Misses O'Toole also were as pretty as the daughters of the Emerald Isle generally are, so that, in point of beauty, ours might be termed the crack quadrille. Mr. Springer this time belonged to the noble set, which, of course, was at the top of the room. Ours was about the centre, and I rather think attracted more spectators than Mr. Springer's contre-danse. One of our officers was remarkably fat, the other was very tall and thin. I ventured to ask my pretty partner to what regiment they belonged. She answered me, with the sprightliness of her country, "I belave one belongs to the double, and t'other to the single Glos❜ter Militia." I had neither time nor inclination to talk or to listen, for I was intently occupied in studying my part by gazing at the officers, who marched their performance in a most stately manner. Some people call dancing pleasure, but, for my part, I felt about as happy as a young bear at his first lesson. A slight little "Now then," and twitch of the hand from my partner, prompted me that it was time for myself and Mr. Pickwick to exert our locomotives; but as there was no tram-road marked out to guide us, I felt like a boat in a whirlpool. Suffused with blushes, and with eyes cast down, I suffered the ladies to tow me about as they best pleased. Mr. Pickwick, with his usual modesty, must have had his eyes down too, for by chance we butted stern on against each other like a pair of sportive lambs; both inside and outside the ring, we were annoyed by hearing laughter; we saw nothing, but towards the end of the round we were both seized by both hands of our fair partners, and felt ourselves quite at home in a little short poussette. I must do Mr. Pickwick the justice to say he acquitted himself much better than I. He had had some previous practice, for he had danced before, opposite Mr. Springer. I felt much annoyed, and could not listen to anything my Terpsichore had to say. I was too busy watching the manœuvres of the officers. I thought I heard the thin one say to the fat one, as they crossed each other on different tacks, "These chaps are enough to club the regiment." At any other time I should have taken this expression up, but business was pressing, and I had no time to lose on trifles. A stentorian "L'Eté" from the leader of the band sprung Mr. Pickwick and me both off the ground at the same time. Miss Wilhelmina kept her feet still, but her hands in motion, telegraphing me with her bouquet, something about a false start; but as my object was to dance, and not to stand still, I would not understand her. I kept pawing the ground like a bitted courser, nor did I see any reason to cease, till Mr. Pickwick and my partner pulled up. It seemed to me perfectly natural, that as long as my partner was under weigh I could not remain at anchor. "En avant deux," twice repeated from the orchestra. Miss Wilhelmina, all grace, like a solitary snipe, had it all to herself, Mr. Pickwick remaining idle in his turn. My partner twice tried to push me into action, but I backed out: thus Miss Wilhelmina, like a true Irish girl, danced the en avant deux quite alone. I had the satisfaction of seeing the lookers-on with much graver faces this time than before. "Evident signs of improvement," thought I to myself. "La Poule," cried the chief fiddler, and I saw the officers obey the word of command by pulling at their partners in a row. This seemed to me much the easiest manoeuvre yet, and I felt confident of success in it. I was really anxious to begin. When it came to my turn we formed the string very well, and I here introduced an old pendulum step of mine that I had learnt at school, and I may without vanity say that it went like clock-work. I could plainly see those outside the ropes looking satisfied. I even received a compliment from Miss Janetta Fitzherbert O'Toole. "La Pastorelle" was now commanded from the gallery, and this appeared a dance of diabolical invention. The fat officer was left alone in the middle of the ring, and he looked as miserable as a fugleman in front, with the lines going to fire blank cartridges at him. Happy did he seem when he got mixed up with the others, and safe back in his place. It now came to the thin officer's turn; he, on the contrary, certainly liked it, and looked as composed as if he had been reading "Zimmerman on Solitude." Now it came to Mr. Pickwick's turn; fear seemed to have paralysed his legs, but his arms were as agitated as if he really had been in the prize-ring. They then assumed two turns like the fans of a windmill, and then the whole body of Mr. Pickwick rushed forward towards me in an agony of despair, and said, "Poussette, my dear Winkle, poussette." I could not resist ; I gave him my two protecting hands, and ended his pas de seul for him with two twirls of poussette. This trait of feeling and good fellowship seemed to affect all around, for I saw many a handkerchief raised to many a fair face, to hide a tear or a laugh. It now came to my turn, and I grieve to say I sulked; and neither prayer nor entreaty on the part of Miss Fitzherbert O'Toole, or threats from Mr. Pickwick, could make me start. I believe nothing less than a bundle of straw placed under me, and set fire to, would have got a pas de seul out of me. After this dilemma I ended the quadrille so demeritoriously, that Miss Janetta felt obliged to take me to a retired seat in the tea-room, to scold me well for being "so naughty a boy," as she termed it. She said—“ Ah, sure, Mr. Winkle, it's too bad of ye now, putting us all out, and robbing us of the gavotte; smell this bottle, ye "highwoman, ye—sure it's thif's vinker. I thanked her, and excused myself in the best way I could. I had now a little spare time to breathe, and in turn to criticise the faults and to admire the graces of others. I was led by Mr. Springer to observe the noble quadrille, where we were the most likely to see correct taste; but, to tell the truth, there was nothing very extraordinary there. I was begged by the master of the ceremonies to admire the grace of the Marquis of Worcester's dancing. There he was, handsome as the statue of Apollo, with the advantage of having his limbs much more pliant. All he did was right, no doubt; he danced with his knees bent, as if he was afraid of touching the chandelier, and his legs as wide apart, as if he had been an equestrian statue without the horse, and he threw his head first over one shoulder, and then over the other, with an agony of ineffable grace. I liked it so much that I determined on it to found my basis for future study, and I always practised it whenever I could find a Psyche glass to be my "vis-a-vis." The dance was over, and I was now chewing the cud in my mind, when Mr. Springer begged to remind me that Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole expected me for the next waltz. Mr. Pickwick interrupted me as I was about to excuse myself, with "Impossible, my dear fellow, you cannot do another rudeness to this respectable family to-night. Waltz you must-'tis not so difficult'tis just like poussette.' And, meekly resigned, I suffered myself to be conducted to the sacrifice. I had an idea of a circle, and I thought that if I placed one foot firm on the ground, and spun round like a pair of compasses, letting the other leg fly out, that this might do. A moment's reflection, however, showed me the fallacy of this argument, for what was to become of Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole if I indulged myself in this equatoriale evolution? Mr. Springer, who was as quick as thought, guessed what I was thinking about, and having ascertained the point, good-naturedly told me "that my system was theoretically and practically right. "Catch firm hold of Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole by the waist-she's a good weight-begin twirling, and she will form, as it were, the fixed leg of the compass, and as the speed increases you will fly out like the other leg, as before mentioned," explained good Mr. Springer. "What a consolatory kind creature you are," said I, not a little proud to know that my system was correct. With confidence, therefore, which is half the battle, I presented myself, the moment the fiddles began, to Mrs. Fitzherbert O'Toole, nothing daunted. We got into the thick of the crowd before we started, and then I caught hold with both hands of the thick of her waist, and round she went, faster and faster, like an unwinding capstan, with the cable running out, till what Mr. Springer said was quite true-I flew out like the off-leg of the compass, till I almost assumed the horizontal I was getting giddy. "How's this to end ?" thinks I to myself. End it did, however, and somewhat abruptly, for when Mrs. O'Toole pulled up, I fell flat on my waistcoat and nose. The fall seemed to me quite natural-how could it be otherwise? Mrs. Fitzherbert seemed glad to have shaken me off, but I consoled myself, thinking she could not have gone round without me, for I acted as the fly-wheel to the steam-engine. I was on my legs in an instant, or I should have had a couple or two over me, and off I bolted, without looking right or left, to the refreshment-room. Mr. Pickwick soon followed, and appeared particularly out of humour with me, as if I could have helped it. He requested me to come home to bed, and not expose myself any more. In any other place but a ball-room I should have lost my temper with him—as it was, I agreed to go home, simply because I was tired of the ball. Mr. Springer came running up to know if I was hurt. “Oh, no!” said I, and the waiter was at this moment handing round milk-punch. Mr. Pickwick and I took some, and offered some to Mr. Springer; he replied, "Thank you, no— -I am not in the lacteal way," and then made a pirouette and left us abruptly. This was George Brummel's system, always to take leave of his friends with a joke.. "It leaves them with a smile on their countenances, and consequently with a pleasing impression," said this celebrated I have no doubt in my own mind that Mr. Springer would have preferred the milk-punch to the joke, but he was acting upon system. man. We were soon in the lobby, soon in the street, and assailed with 66 Fly, your honour!" "Cheer, your honour !" but turning a deaf ear to these requests, we rung the Plough up, and were in a few minutes in bed, and asleep. SNATCHES OF SONG. No. II. BY MRS. C. BARON WILSON. 'Tis vain! 'tis vain! nor brighter climes, 'Tis vain! 'tis vain! no change of scene "Tis vain! 'tis vain! nor change of place, Or from my inmost soul efface The one lov'd image sainted there! |