DANCE AFTER MEAT.

Northland Age, Volume IV, Issue 47, 13 July 1908, Page 7

DANCE AFTER MEAT.

(From Sterne's ''Sentimental Journey,”)

A shoe coming loose from the forefoot of the thill-horse, at the beginning of the ascent of Mount Taurira, the postillion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in his pocket : as the ascent was of five or six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of having the shoo fastened on again, as well as we could ; but the postillion had thrown away the nails, and the hammer in the chaise-box being of no great use without them, I submitted to gq on.

He had not mounted half a mile higher, when coming to a flinty piece of road, the poor devil lost a second shoe, and from off his other fore-foot. I then got out of the chaise in good earnest; and seeing a house about a quarter of a mile to the left hand, with a great deal to do, I prevailed upon the postillion to turn up to it. The look of the house and of everything about it, as we drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster. It was A LITTLE FARM-HOUSE, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard, about as much corn—and close to the house >n one side, was a potagerie of an acre and a half of everything which could make plenty in a French peasant's house—and on the other side was a little wood which furnished wherewithal *tq dress it, It was about eight in the evening when I got to the house—so I left the postillion, to manage his point as he could—and for mine, I walked directly into the house. , The family consisted of an old grey-headed man hi; wife, with •ive or six sons and sons-in ’aw, and their several wives, and a joyous genealogy out e.f them.

They were all sitting down together to their lentil-soup ; a large wheaten loaf was in the middle of the table ; and a flagon of win* at each end of it promised joy through the stages of tho repast—'twas a feast of love. The old man rose up to meet me, and with a respectful cordiality would have me sit down at the table : MY HEART was set down the moment I entered the room ; so I sat down at once like a son of tho family ; and to invest ’myself in tho character as speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed the old man’s knife, and. taking up the loaf, cut iryself a hearty luncheon and as I did it I saw a testimony in every eye, not only of an honest welcome, but of a welcomo mixed with thanks that 1 had not seemed to doubt it. Was it this : or tell me, Nature, what else it was that mado this morsel so sweet—and to what magic I owe it, that the draught I took of their flagon was so delicious with it that they remain upon my palate to this hour ? If the supper was to my taste—tho grace which followed was much more When supper was over the old man gave a knock upon the table with the haft of his knife, to bid them PREPARE FOR THE DANCE ; the moment the signal was given the women and girls ran all together into the back apartment to tie up their hair—and the men to the door to wash their faces, and change their sabots ; and in three minutes every soul was ready upon a lUttlo esplanade before the house to bad 0 — the old man and his wife camb'out last, and placing me betwixt them, sat down upon a sofa of turf by the door. V 1 The old man had some fifty years ago been no mean performer upon the vielle—and, at the age he was then of, touched it well enough for the purpose. His wife sang now and then a little to the tune —then then intermitted—and joined her old man again, as their children and grandchildren danced before them. It was not till the middle of the second dance, when, for some pauses in the movement wherein they all seemed to look up. I fancied I could distinguish an elevation . of spirit different from that which is tho cause or the effect of simple jollity. In a word, I thought I beheld Religion mixing in the dance—but as I had nover seen her bo engaged, I should have looked upon it now as one of tbe illusions of an imagination which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance ended, said that this was their constant way : and that all his life long, he made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out his family to dance and rejoice ! believing, he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to Heaven that an illiterate peasant could pay——Or a learned prelate, either, said I, earnestly.