“Oh yes,” says he, “In youthful mirth I gambolled through the innocent forms of ‘Wink ’em Slyly’ and such, but I never danced, I never committed that sin.”
THE DEACON’S OLD GAME.
“No,” says I, “but you went through with all the motions of dancin’, caperin’ round the room, chasin’ likely wimmen to Copenhagen; and a runnin’ ’em through the Needles-eye till they was most dead. Winkin’ of ’em slyly, and racin’ ’em round till you most run your precious legs off and theirn too. You went through all the motions of dancin’, only instead of takin’ their hands and promenadin’ down the room with ’em at a slow respectable gait to the sound of music, you laid too and chased ’em, galloped after ’em like a wild Injun till you chased ’em down; takin’ the advantage of ’em by dodgin’ unbeknown to ’em—catchin’ holt of ’em and a tearin’ their dresses, rippin’ of ’em off at the waist; steppin’ through their flounces, towzelin’ their hair, and lamin’ of ’em. You chased ’em round in a particular form jest like dancin’ only what took the wickedness off was your kissin’ ’em when you catched ’em; every man in the room kissin’ every woman promiscous; that made it moral and religious, so Deacons and all other meetin’ house folks could foller it up.”
He looked wrathful, very; but I continued on in more reasonable axents:
“I never had no call to be a dancer, I always thought my time could be spent in a more profitable way; and my Tirzah Ann never had no call that way, and neither did she ever take to those promiscous kissin’ parties. When she was a little mite of a girl she didn’t want to kiss anybody but her pa and me, and I wouldn’t make her. Some thought she was too dainty and I ort to punish her. Wimmen with their faces covered with scotch snuff, have argued with me that it was my duty to whip her for hangin’ back from kissin’ ’em; but I says to ’em what if some big giant should stand over me and make me kiss Simon Slimpsey or Solomon Cypher, how should I feel? And Tirzah Ann has her rights as well as I have—childern’s rights are jest as right as wimmen’s rights. Why should I, because I am physically stronger than she is, force her to do what is disagreeable and repulsive to her? There is no justice in it. Little childern forced into this life entirely unbeknown to them, called out of the peaceful land of Nowhere into this troublesome world by no will of their own, ort to be treated well, Zebulin Coffin, by their fathers and mothers and parents. It is a solemn thing, one of the solemnest things that ever was done to wake up a deathless soul, to be endlessly happy or miserable. An immortal soul, that can’t through time or eternity—no matter how tired it is, ever go to sleep again; can’t never lay off for half a moment, if ever so weary and despairin’, the burden of life’s responsibilities, the burden of life’s sorrows; can’t never lay down the awful—awful because so mysterious—gift of immortality; can’t never go back to the serene if lonesome land you called ’em from—they have got to face sorrow and weariness and death. You have sot ’em down in front of them troubles anyway; and the least you can do for ’em is to make ’em as happy as you can; treat ’em with respect and civility and do well by ’em. And if their hearts seem to be sot on certain persons, if them certain persons are likely—which they be—we ort to do as we would be done by if we was in Tom’s and Molly’s place.”
But I see then that even these roundabout hints wouldn’t be took. I see how hard it was to mollyfy him about Molly, and I hastened to continue on.
“As I was a sayin’, I wouldn’t make Tirzah Ann kiss folks promiscous when she was a child, and when she grew up sort of bashful like, it didn’t trouble me, for I knew her little dainty, timid, modest ways was jest like the blush on a peach or a bunch of grapes; if that got brushed off by rough handlin’, all the world couldn’t never put it back again. As I said, she never had no drawin’ towards balls and promiscous parties, and runnin’ off nights away from home. And though I don’t consider it the height of wickedness at all, still it didn’t worry me a bit to have her contented and willin’ to stay to home. She said home was the pleasantest spot in the world to her, and so Thomas J. said. Josiah and I did our best to make home pleasant to the childern; we had all sorts of virtuous and harmless games, music and etcetery, to make ’em happy—and they was happy. We worked hard to git ’em headed right—and they did head right; and when a likely young man come along that loved Tirzah Ann, and she him, why we give our consent, jest as in my opinion certain persons ort to have the free and full consent of a certain Deacon.”
I would give him a blind hint once in a while, if he took my head off; but I see by his looks that it wouldn’t do to come out plain jest yet, so I went on:
“I tried to make myself a sort of a mate to my Tirzah Ann, brought her up so’s not to feel awe-struck, and afraid of me; afraid to confide all her little tribulations and worryments to me.” Says I, “We worked head work to keep ’em good and happy; Josiah and me did.”