University of Virginia Library

THE DEACON'S CHRISTMAS DANCE.

Dancing, done rightly, is an attractive and healthful custom. Who does not love to see a group of children engaged in this beautiful and innocent sport?

But when the amusement is employed to plant vile seeds of passion that may soon spring into plants of shame and woe, the common decency of a nation must regulate it and restrain it, if that nation wishes to live.

If all the dances could boast of as happy and beneficial a termination as the one rudely described as occurring in the “Heathen Nation,” there would be no supervision or restraint necessary.

Brother, do you recollect, in some spiritual vacation,
Of the Christmas night we spent, over in the “Heathen Nation”?
(That was what our people called it, since it hadn't the same appearin'
As a place that antedated it a dozen years in clearin').
[So said Ahab Adams, banker—owning holdings few could purchase,
To his brother, leading pastor 'mongst a hundred city churches.]
Those hard times out in the wood-lots—how as boys we used to pass 'em!
Not a person went ag'in us, but we had the words to sass 'em!
'Ceptin' Dad and Mother: Dad held within the voice ingredients
That could close the dictionary on all words except obedience.
And amongst the other orders this one through my memory glances:
“Whatsoever else you do, don't you go to any dances!”
Christmas came—we 'tended church; learned once more that we was sinners;
Had a mother-meal at home—food enough for fifteen dinners;
Fed the horses, stalled the cattle, soothed small pains that shot across us,
An' went up to bed at nine, by the clock that helped to boss us.
Then I recollect you, brother—my! who now would ever think it!
Whispered, “Youth is full of syrup: let us go and help to drink it!”
Then we sneaked out of the window—still as chaos 'fore creation—
Startin' for a Christmas dance—over in the “Heathen Nation.”
Mercy! didn't it make a flutter, when the people saw appearin'
Four strong husky youthful Christians, come from Deacon Adams' clearin'!
Still those sinners—not disposed to wastin' time with small surprises,
Didn't let us interfere with the reg'lar exercises:
They rushed to us good an' hearty—not as brands plucked from the burnin'
But as Deacon Adams' pris'ners from cold storage now returnin'.
An' the fiddle—how it thrilled us!—every kind of thought revealin':
Scoldin' cryin', grumblin', shoutin', whisp'rin', singin', warblin', squealin'—
Brother, have you any wonder, as we read those memory-pages,
That we fellers went to dancin' jest as if we danced for wages?
Was't a wonder that we shrunk, apprehensive 'mid the laughter,
When our straight-browed father rushed in—havin' followed slyly after?
Any wonder if the father, when he felt the animation
From the heads and hearts and heels of that risin' generation,
When he saw them cleanly dancin' till the timbers seemed to totter,
Recollected youthful pastimes, when his blood was somewhat hotter?
'Special'y when a fair-faced girl, with a red head like a beacon,
Pranced up softly to him, saying, “Dance a hornpipe with me, Deacon?”
Is it any wonder that he threw all restraint aside, untethered,
An' let loose a hundr'd antics that for forty years he'd gathered?
Brother, don't you recollect how he whirled an' jumped an' twisted?
He showed them there people capers that they didn't know existed.
An' he murmured unto me, in the red-hot of the revel,
“David danced before the Lord—I will try it on the devil!”
Everybody on the job cheered our Dad like all creation:
He was soon the crackerjack of the whole dumbed Heathen Nation!
But remember our surprise an' the laughs that jumped around us,
When our dear old mother entered—havin' missed an' chased an' found us!
But she al'ays had some fun layin' round with her religion:
An' her toes took wings forthwith, that would give points to a pigeon!
She eclipsed the red-head gal—took the cake without much bother,
Makin' folks around there love her—even more than they did father.
Well, I guess you'll hev to own it, that 'ere fast night was a sprinter!
And the sort of genial climate that you don't get every winter!
That was Dad's an' Mom's last dancin': but they brewed such admiration,
That their influence never died in that wicked Heathen Nation:
An' you recollect, when Dad a revival there inserted,
More than half the folks that lived near, swung right in an' got converted.
Then you says—“In cornerin' sinners, do not feel too much above 'em:
Kind of make 'em understand that, like David, you're one of 'em.”