“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 glasses 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, passeth 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?”