were in a decided minority, and many who considered themselves so in
their own habitats found themselves much below the standard in Cambridge.

Mrs. James Russell Lowell was one of the lady patronesses of the
assemblies, and her husband sometimes came to them for an hour or so
before escorting her home. He watched the performance with a poet's eye
for whatever is graceful and charming, but sometimes also with a humorous
smile playing upon his face. There were some very good dancers among the
ladies who skimmed the floor almost like swallows; but the finest waltzer
in Cambridge or Boston was Theodore Colburn, who had graduated ten years
previously, and with the advantage of a youthful figure, had kept up the
pastime ever since. The present writer has never seen anywhere another
man who could waltz with such consummate ease and unconscious grace.
Lowell's eyes followed him continually; but it is also said that Colburn
would willingly dispense with the talent for better success in his
profession. Next to him comes the tall ball-player, already referred to,
and it is delightful to see the skill with which he adapts his unusual
height to the most _petite_ damsel on the floor. Here the "Spree" is
omnipotent, but it does not like Class Day, for then Boston and its
suburbs pour forth their torrent of beauty and fashion, and Cambridge for
the time being is left somewhat in the shade.

Henry James in his "International Episode" speaks as if New York dancers
were the best in the world, and they are certainly more light-footed than
English men and women; but a New York lady, with whom Mr. James is well
acquainted, says that Bostonians and Austrians are the finest dancers.
The true Bostonian cultivates a sober reserve in his waltzing which, if
not too serious, adds to the grace of his movement. Yet, when the german
is over, we remember the warning of the wealthy Corinthian who refused
his daughter to the son of Tisander on the ground that he was too much of