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GEOEfiIH SCENES.
Sy Judge Augustus Saldtoin Longstreet.
The Dance—A Personal Adventure of
the Author.
Some years ago I was called by
business to one of the frontier coun
ties, then but recently settled. It be
came necessary for me, while there,
to enlist the services of Thomas Gib
son, Esq., one of the magistrates of
the county, who resided about a mile
and a half from my lodgings; and to
this circumstance was I indebted for
my introduction ito him. I had made
the intended disposition of my busi
ness, and was on the eve of my de
parture for the city of my residence,
when I was induced to remain a day
longer by an invitation from the
squire to attend a dance at his house
on the following day. Having learned
from my landlord that I would prob
ably “be expected at the frolic”
about the hour of ten in the fore
noon, and being desirous of seeing all
that passed upon the occasion, I went
over about an hour before the time.
The squire’s dwelling consisted of
but one room, which answered the
threefold purpose of dining-room,,
bed-room, kitchen. The house was
constructed on logs, and the floor was
of puncheons; a term which, in Geor
gia, means split logs, with their faces
a little smoothed with the axe or
hatchet. To gratify his daughters,
Polly and Silvy, the old gentleman
and his lady had consented to camp
out for a day, and to surrender the
habitation to the girls and their
young friends.
When I reached there I found all
things in readiness for the promised
amusement. The girls, as the old
gentleman informed me, had com
pelled the family to breakfast under
the trees, for they had completely
stripped the house of its furniture
before the sun rose. They were al
ready attired for the dance, in neat
but plain habiliments of their own
manufacture. “What!” says some
weakly, sickly, delicate, useless, af
fected, “charming creature” of the
city, “dressed for a ball at nine in
the morning!” Even so, my delecta
ble Miss Octavia Matilda Juliana
Claudia Ipecacuanha; and what have
you to say against it ? If people
must dance, is it not much more ra
tional to employ the hours allotted
to exercise in that amusement, than
the hours sacred to repose and medi
tation? And which is entitled to the
most credit, the young lady who rises
with the dawn, and puts herself and
whole house in order for a ball four
hours before it begins, or the one
who requires a fortnight to get her
self dressed for it?
The squire and I employed the in
terval in conversation about the first
settlement of the country, in the
course of which I picked up some
useful information. We were at
length interrupted, however, by the
sound of a violin, which proceeded
from a thick wood at my left. The
performer soon after made his ap
pearance, and proved to be no other
than Billy Porter, a negro fellow
of much harmless wit and humor,
who was well known throughout the
state. Poor Billy! “His harp is
now hung upon the willow,” and I
would not blush to offer a tear to his
memory, for his name is associated
with some of the happiest scenes of
my life, and he sleeps with many a
dear friend, who used to join me in
provoking his wit and in laughing at
his eccentricities; but I am lead
ing my reader to the grave instead
of the dance, which I promised. If,
however, his memory reaches twelve
years back, he will excuse this short
tribute of respect to BILLY POR
TER.
Billy, to give his own account of
himself, “had been taking a turn
with the brethren (the Bar); and,
hearing the ladies wanted to see pret
ty Billy, had come to give them a
benefit.” The squire had not seen
him before; and it is no disrespect to
his undlerstanding of politeness to
say, that he found it impossible to
give me his attention for half an
hour after Billy arrived. I had noth
ing to do, therefore, while the young
people were assembling, but to im
prove my knowledge of Billy’s char
acter. to the squire’s amusement. 1
had been thus engaged about thirty
minutes, when I saw several fine,
bouncing, ruddy-cheeked girls de
scending a hill about the eighth of a
mile off. They, too, were attired in
manufactures of their own hands.
The refinements of the present day
in female drew had not even reach
ed our republican cities at this time;
and, of course, the country girls were
wholly ignorant of them. They car
ried no more cloth upon their arms
or straw upon their heads than was
necessary to cover them. They
used no artificial means of spread
ing their frock tails to an interest
ing extent from their ankles. They
had no boards laced to their breasts,
nor any corsets laced to their sides;
consequently, they looked for all the
world. like human beings, and could
be distinctly recognized as such at
the distance of two hundred pace-.
Their movements were as free and
active as nature would permit them
to be. Let me not be misunderstood
as interposing the least objection to
any lady in this land of liberty dress
ing just as she pleases. If she
choose to lay her neck and shoul
ders bare, what right have I to* lo<k
at them, much less to find fault with
them? If she choose to put three
yards of muslin in a frock sleeve,
wihat right have I to ask why a little
strip of it was not put in the body?
If she like the pattern of a hoisted
umbrella for a frock, and the shape
of a cheese-case for her body, what
is all that to me? But to return.
The girls were met by Polly and
Silvey Gibson at some distance from
the house, who welcomed them—
“with a kiss, of course”—oh, no;
but with something much less equiv
ocal : a hearty shake of the hand and
smiling countenances, which had
some meaning.
(Note. —The custom of kissing, as
practiced in these days by the amia
bles, is borrowed from the French,
and by them from Judas.)
The young ladies had generally col
lected before any of the young men
appeared. It was not long, however,
before a large number of both
THE WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN.
sexes were assembled, and they ad
journed to the ballroom.
But for the snapping of a fiddle
string, the young people would have
been engaged in the amusement of
the day in less than three minutes
from the time they entered the house.
Here were no formal introductions
to be given, no drawing for places
or partners, no parade of managers,
no ceremonies. It was perfectly un
dejrfsitoodl th)a|t all Were invited to
dance, and that none were invited
who were unworthy to be danced
with; consequently, no gentleman
hesitated to ask any lady present to
dance with him, and no lady refused
to dance with a gentleman merely be
cause she had not been made ac
quainted with him.
In a short time the string was re
paired and off went the party to a
good old republican six reel. I had
been thrown among fashionables so
long that I had almost forgotten my
native dance. But it revived rapid
ly as they wheeled through its mazes,
and with it returned many long-for
gotten, pleasing recollections!. Not
only did the reel return to me, but
the very persons who used to figure
in it with me, in the heyday of youth. ■
Here was my old sweetheart, Polly
Jackson, identically personified in
Polly Gibson; and here was Jim
Johnson’s, in Silvy; and Bill Mar
tin’s, in Nancy Ware. Polly Gibson
had my old flame’s very steps as well
as her looks. “Ah!” said, I “squire,
this puts me in mind of old times. I
have not seen a six reel for five and
twenty years. It recalls to my mind
many a happy hour, and many a jo
vial friend who used to enliven it
with me. Your Polly looks so much
like my old sweetheart, Polly Jack
son, that, were I young again, I cer-'
tainly should fall in love with her.”
“That was the name of her moth
er,” said the squire.
“Where did you marry her?” in
quired I.
“In Wilkes,” said he; “she was
the daughter of old Nathan Jackson,
of that county.” •
“It isn’t possible!” returned I.
“Then it is the very girl of whom
I am speaking. Where is she?”
“She’s out,” said the squire,
“preparing dinner for the young peo
ple; but she’ll be in towards the close
of the day. But come along, and I’ll
make you acquainted with her at
once, if you’ll promise not to run
away with her. for I tell you what it
is, she’s the likeliest gal in all these
parts yet.”
“Well,” said I, “I’ll promise aot
to run away with her, but you must
not let her know who I am. I wish
to make myself known, to her; and,
for fear of the worst, you shall wit
ness the introduction. But don’t get
jealous, squire, if she seems a little
too glad to see me, for, I assure you,
we had a strong notion of each other
when we were young.”
“No danger,” replied the squire;
“she hadn’t seen me then, or she
never could have loved such a hard
favoured man as you are.”
In the meantime the dance went
on, and I employed myself in select
ing from the party the best exam
ples of the dancers of my day and
Mrs. Gibson’s for her entertainment.
Tn this I had not the least difficulty;
for the dancers before me and those
of my days were in all respects iden
tical.
Jim Johnson -kept up the double
shuffle from the beginning to the end
of the reel: and here was Jim over
again in Sammy Tant. Bill Martin
always set to his partner with the
same step; and a very curious step
it was. He brought his right foot
close behind his left, and with it per
formed precisely the motion of the
thumb in the cracking that insect
which Burns has immortalized; then
moved his right back, threw his
weight upon it, brought his left be
hind it, and cracked with that as be
fore; and so on alternately. Just
so did Bill Kemp, to a nail. Bob
Simons danced for all the world like
a “Suple Jack” (or, as we commonly
call it, a “iSuple iSawney”), when
the string is pulled with varied force,
at intervals of seconds: and so did
Jake Slack. Davy Moore went like
a suit of clothes upon a clothing line
on a windy day: and here was his
antitype in Ned Glark. Rhoda No
bles swam through the reel like a
cork on wavy waters, always giving
two or three pretty little perchbite
diddles as she rose from a coupee.
Nancy Ware was her very self. Becky
Lewis made a business of dancing;
she disposed of her part as quick
as possible, stopped dead short as
soon as she got through, and looked
as sober as a judge all the time;
even so did Chloe Dawson. I used
to tell Polly Jackson, that Becky’s
countenance, when she closed a
dance, always seemed to say, “Now,
if you want any more dancing, you
may do it yourself.”
The dance grew merrier as it pro
gressed ; the young people became
more easy in each other’s company,
and often enlivened the scene with
most humorous remarks. Occasion
ally some sharp cuts passed between
the boys, such as would have produc
ed half a dozen duels at a city ball;
but here they were taken as they
were meant, in good humour. Jim
Johnson being a little tardy in meet
ing his partner at a turn of the reel,
“I ax pardon, Miss Chloe,” said he,
“Jake Slack went to make a cross
hop just now, and tied bis legs in
a hard knot, and I stop’d to help him
untie them.” A little after, Jake
hung his toe in a crack of the floor,
and nearly fell: “Ding my but
tons,” said he, “if I didn’t know
I should stumble over Jim Johnson’s
foot at last. Jim, draw your foot
up to your own end of the reel.”
(Jim was at the other end of the
reel, and had, in truth, a prodigious
foot.)
Towards the middle of the day,
many of the neighbouring farmers
dropped in, and joined the squire
and myself in talking of old times.
At length dinner was announced. It
consisted of plain fare, but there was
a profusion of it. Rough planks,
supported by stakes driven in the
ground, served for a table; at which
the old and young of both sexes seat
ed themselves at the same time. I
soon recognized Mrs. Gibson from all
the matrons present. Thirty years
had Wrought great changes in her
appearance, but they had left some
of her features entirely unimpaired.
Her eye beamed with all its youthful
fire, and, to my astonishment, her
mouth was still beautified with a full
set of teeth, unblemished by time.