Of Course There Was A Great Deal Of Laughing And Talking, As Well As Much Speculation With Regard To The Costume Of The Icelandic Ladies We Were To See At The Ball.

It appears that the dove-cots of Reykjavik have been a good deal fluttered by an announcement emanating from

The gallant Captain of the "Artemise" that his fair guests would be expected to come in low dresses; for it would seem that the practice of showing their ivory shoulders is, as yet, an idea as shocking to the pretty ladies of this country as waltzes were to our grandmothers. Nay, there was not even to be found a native milliner equal to the task of marking out that mysterious line which divides the prudish from the improper; so that the Collet-monte faction have been in despair. As it turned out, their anxiety on this head was unnecessary; for we found, on entering the ball-room, that, with the natural refinement which characterises this noble people, our bright-eyed partners, as if by inspiration, had hit off the exact sweep from shoulder to shoulder, at which - after those many oscillations, up and down, which the female corsage has undergone since the time of the first Director - good taste has finally arrested it.

I happened to be particularly interested in the above important question; for up to that moment I had always been haunted by a horrid paragraph I had met with somewhere in an Icelandic book of travels, to the effect that it was the practice of Icelandic women, from early childhood, to flatten down their bosoms as much as possible.

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