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4 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.