My, what a pull that was. Thinks I to myself, "Friend, if that don't take the wrinkles out of the parchment case of your conscience, then I don't know nothin', that's all." Oh dear, how all America is overrun with such cattle as this; how few teach religion, or practise it right. How hard it is to find the genuine article. Some folks keep the people in ignorance, and make them believe the moon is made of green cheese; others, with as much sense, fancy the world is. One has old saints, the other invents new ones. One places miracles at a distance, t'other makes them before their eyes, while both are up to mesmerism.

One says there is no marryin' in Paradise, the other says, if that's true, it's hard, and it is best to be a mormon and to have polygamy here. Then there is a third party who says, neither of you speak sense, it is better to believe nothin' than to give yourself up to be crammed. Religion, Squire, ain't natur, because it is intended to improve corrupt natur, it's no use talkin' therefore, it can't be left to itself, otherwise it degenerates into something little better than animal instinct. It must be taught, and teaching must have authority as well as learning. There can be no authority where there is no power to enforce, and there can be no learning where there is no training.

If there must be normal schools to qualify schoolmasters, there must be Oxfords and Cambridges to qualify clergymen. At least that's my idea. Well, if there is a qualified man, he must be supported while he is working. But if he has to please his earthly employer, instead of obeying his heavenly Master, the better he is qualified the more dangerous he is. If he relies on his congregation, the order of things is turned upside down. He serves mammon, and not G.o.d. If he does his duty he must tell unpleasant truths, and then he gets a walkin'

ticket. Who will hire a servant, pay him for his time, find a house for him to live in, and provide him in board, if he has a will of his own, and won't please his employer by doin' what he is ordered to do?

I don't think you would, Squire, and I know I wouldn't.

No, a fixed, settled church, like ourn, or yours, Squire, is the best.

There is safe anchorage ground in them, and you don't go draggin' your flukes with every spurt of wind, or get wrecked if there is a gale that rages round you. There is something strong to hold on to. There are good buoys, known landmarks, and fixed light-houses, so that you know how to steer, and not helter-skelter lights movin' on the sh.o.r.e like will-o'-the whisps, or wreckers' false fires, that just lead you to destruction. The medium between the two churches, for the clergy, would be the right thing. In yours they are too independent of the people, with us a little too dependent. But we are coming up to the notch by making moderate endowments, which will enable the minister to do what is right, and not too large to make him lazy or careless. Well then, in neither of them is a minister handed over to a faction to try. Them that make the charges ain't the judges, which is a Magna Charta for him.

Yes, I like our episcopal churches, they teach, persuade, guide, and paternally govern, but they have no dungeons, no tortures, no fire and sword. They ain't afraid of the light, for, as minister used to say, "their light shines afore men." Just see what sort of a system it must be that produces such a man as Jehu Judd. And yet Jehu finds it answer his purpose in his cla.s.s to be what he is. His religion is a cloak, and that is a grand thing for a pick-pocket. It hides his hands, while they are fumblin' about your waistcoat and trousers, and then conceals the booty. You can't make tricks if your adversary sees your hands, you may as well give up the game.

But to return to the evangelical trader. Before we recommenced dancing again, I begged the two Gaelic girls, who were bouncing, buxom la.s.ses, and as strong as Shetland ponies, to coax or drag him up for a reel.

Each took a hand of his and tried to persuade him. Oh, weren't they full of smiles, and didn't they look rosy and temptin'? They were sure, they said, so good-lookin' a man as he was, must have learned to dance, or how could he have given it up?

"For a single man like you," said Catherine.

"I am not a single man," said Old Piety, "I am a widower, a lonely man in the house of Israel."

"Oh, Catherine," sais I, a givin' her a wink, "take care of theeself, or thy Musquodobit farm, with its hundred acres of intervale meadow, and seventy head of horned cattle, is gone."

He took a very amatory look at her after that hint.

"Verily she would be a duck in Quaco, friend Jehu," said I.

"Indeed would she, anywhere," he said, looking sanctified Cupids at her, as pious galls do who show you the place in your prayer-book at church.

"Ah, there is another way methinks she would be a duck," said I, "the maiden would soon turn up the whites of her eyes at dancin' like a duck in thunder, as the profane men say."

"Oh, oh," said the doctor, who stood behind me, "I shall die, he'll kill me. I can't stand this, oh, how my sides ache."

"Indeed I am afraid I shall always be a wild duck," said Catherine.

"They are safer from the fowler," said Jehu, "for they are wary and watchful."

"If you are a widower," she said, "you ought to dance."

"Why do you think so?" said he; but his tongue was becoming thick, though his eyes were getting brighter.

"Because," she said, "a widower is an odd critter."

"Odd?" he replied, "in what way odd, dear?"

"Why," said the girl, "an ox of ourn lately lost his mate, and my brother called him the odd ox, and not the single ox, and he is the most frolicksome fellow you ever see. Now, as you have lost your mate, you are an odd one, and if you are lookin' for another to put its head into the yoke, you ought to go frolickin' everywhere too!"

"Do single critters ever look for mates?" said he, slily.

"Well done," said I, "friend Jehu. The drake had the best of the duck that time. Thee weren't bred in Quaco for nothin'. Come, rouse up, wake snakes, and walk chalks, as the thoughtless children of evil say.

I see thee is warmin' to the subject."

"Men do allow," said he, lookin' at me with great self-complacency, "that in speech I am peeowerful."

"Come, Mary," said I, addressin' the other sister, "do thee try thy persuasive powers, but take care of thy grandmother's legacy, the two thousand pounds thee hast in the Pictou Bank. It is easier for that to go to Quaco than the farm."

"Oh, never fear," said she.

"Providence," he continued, "has been kind to these virgins. They are surprising comely, and well endowed with understanding and money," and he smirked first at one and then at the other, as if he thought either would do--the farm or the legacy.

"Come," they both said, and as they gave a slight pull, up he sprung to his feet. The temptation was too great for him: two pairs of bright eyes, two pretty faces, and two hands in his filled with Highland blood--and that ain't cold--and two gla.s.ses of grog within, and two fortunes without, were irresistible.

So said he," If I have offended, verily I will make amends; but dancing is a dangerous thing, and a snare to the unwary. The hand and waist of a maiden in the dance lead not to serious thoughts."

"It's because thee so seldom feels them," I said. "Edged tools never wound thee when thee is used to them, and the razor that cutteth the child, pa.s.seth smoothly over the chin of a man. He who locketh up his daughters, forgetteth there is a window and a ladder, and if gaiety is shut out of the house, it is pitied and admitted when the master is absent or asleep. When it is harboured by stealth and kept concealed, it loses its beauty and innocence, and waxeth wicked. The crowd that leaveth a night-meeting is less restrained than the throng that goeth to a lighted ball-room. Both are to be avoided; one weareth a cloak that conceals too much, the other a thin vestment that reveals more than is seemly. Of the two, it is better to court observation than shun it. Dark thoughts lead to dark deeds."

"There is much reason in what you say," he said; "I never had it put to me in that light before. I have heard of the shakers, but never saw one before you, nor was aware that they danced."

"Did thee never hear," said I, "when thee was a boy,

"'Merrily dance the quaker's wife, And merrily dance the quaker?'

and so on?"

"No, never," said he.

"Then verily, friend, I will show thee how a quaker can dance. They call us shakers, from shaking our feet so spry. Which will thee choose--the farm or the legacy?"

Mary took his hand, and led him to his place, the music struck up, and Peter gave us one of his quickest measures. Jehu now felt the combined influence of music, women, brandy, and dancing, and snapped his fingers over his head, and stamped his feet to mark the time, and hummed the tune in a voice that from its power and clearness astonished us all.

"Well done, old boy," said I, for I thought I might drop the quaker now, "well done, old boy," and I slapped him on the back, "go it while you are young, make up for lost time: now for the double shuffle. Dod drot it, you are clear grit and no mistake. You are like a critter that boggles in the collar at the first go off, and don't like the start, but when you do lay legs to it you certainly ain't no slouch, I know."

The way he cut carlicues ain't no matter. From humming he soon got to a full cry, and from that to shouting. His antics overcame us all. The doctor gave the first key-note. "Oh, oh, that man will be the death of me," and again rubbed himself round the wall, in convulsions of laughter. Peter saw nothing absurd in all this, on the contrary, he was delighted with the stranger.

"Oigh," he said, "ta preacher is a goot feller after all, she will tance with her hern ainsel;" and fiddling his way up to him again, he danced a jig with Jehu, to the infinite amus.e.m.e.nt of us all. The familiarity which Mr Judd exhibited with the steps and the dance, convinced me that he must have often indulged in it before he became a Christian. At last he sat down, not a little exhausted with the violent exertion, but the liquor made him peeowerful thick-legged, and his track warn't a bee line, I tell you. After a while a song was proposed, and Mary entreated him to favour us with one.

"Dear Miss," said he, "pretty Miss," and his mouth resembled that of a cat contemplating a pan of milk that it cannot reach, "lovely maiden, willingly would I comply, if Sall Mody (Psalmody) will do, but I have forgotten my songs."

"Try this," said I, and his strong, clear voice rose above us all, as he joined us in--

"Yes, Lucy is a pretty girl, Such lubly hands and feet, When her toe is in the Market-house, Her heel is in Main Street.

"Oh take your time, Miss Lucy, Miss Lucy, Lucy Long, Rock de cradle, Lucy, And listen to de song."

He complained of thirst and fatigue after this, and rising, said, "I am peeowerful dry, by jinks," and helped himself so liberally, that he had scarcely resumed his seat before he was fast asleep, and so incapable of sustaining himself in a sitting posture, that we removed him to the sofa, and loosening his cravat, placed him in a situation where he could repose comfortably. We then all stood round the evangelical "Come-outer," and sang in chorus:

"My old master, Twiddledum Don, Went to bed with his trousers on, One shoe off, and the other shoe on-- That's the description of Twiddledum Don."