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THE WALTZ.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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THE WALTZ.

As many of the retired matrons of this city, unskilled
in “gestic lore,” are doubtless ignorant of the movements
and figures of this modest exhibition, I will endeavour
to give some account of it in order that they may learn
what odd capers their daughters sometimes cut when from
under their guardian wings.—On a signal being given by
the music, the gentleman seizes the lady round her waist;
the lady scorning to be out-done in courtesy, very politely
takes the gentleman round the neck, with one arm resting
against his shoulder to prevent encroachments. Away
then they go, about, and about, and about—“About what,
sir?”—About the room, madam, to be sure. The whole
economy of this dance consists in turning round and
round the room in a certain measured step, and it is truly
astonishing that this continued revolution does not set all
their heads swimming like a top; but I have been positively
assured that it only occasions a gentle sensation
which is marvellously agreeable. In the course of this


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circumnavigation, the dancers, in order to give the charm
of variety are continually changing their relative situations,
—now the gentleman, meaning no harm in the world,
I assure you, madam, carelessly flings his arm about the
lady's neck, with an air of celestial impudence; and anon,
the lady, meaning as little harm as the gentleman, takes
him round the waist with most ingenious modest languishment,
to the great delight of numerous spectators
and amateurs, who generally form a ring, as the mob do
about a pair of amazons pulling caps, or a couple of fighting
mastiffs.—After continuing this divine interchange
of hands, arms, et cetera, for half an hour or so, the lady
begins to tire, and “with eyes upraised,” in most bewitching
languor, petitions her partner for a little more support.
This is always given without hesitation. The lady leans
gently on his shoulder; their arms entwine in a thousand
seducing, mischievous curves—don't be alarmed, madam—
closer and closer they approach each other, and in conclusion,
the parties being overcome with ecstatic fatigue, the lady
seems almost sinking into the gentleman's arms, and then
—“Well, sir! what then!—Lord! madam how
should I know.