CHRISTMAS had come round again--merry old Christmas, with hissmiling face and wealth of good cheer; and every preparation hadbeen made by the Arlingtons for their annual Christmas party, whichwas always a gay time for the young friends of the family.
Some hundreds of miles away, in a quiet New-England village, livedMr. Archer, an uncle of Mr. Arlington. He was a good man; but beinga minister of the old school, and well advanced in years, he wasstrongly prejudiced against all "fashionable follies," as he callednearly every form of social recreation. Life was, in his eyes, toosolemn a thing to be wasted in any kind of trifling. In preachingand praying, in pious meditation, and in going about to do good,much of his time was passed; and another portion of it was spent inreflecting upon and mourning over the thoughtless follies of theworld. He had no time for pleasure-taking; no heart to smile at thepassing foibles or merry humours of his fellow-men.
Such was the Rev. Mr. Jason Archer--a good man, but with his mindsadly warped through early prejudices, long confirmed. For years hehad talked of a journey to the city where his niece, to whom he wasmuch attached, resided. This purpose was finally carried out. It wasthe day before Christmas, when Mrs. Arlington received a letter fromthe old gentleman, announcing the fact that she might expect to seehim in a few hours, as he was about starting to pay her and herfamily the long-intended visit.
"Uncle Archer will be here to-morrow," said Mrs. Arlington to herhusband, as soon as she met him after receiving her letter.
"Indeed! And so the good old gentleman has made a move at last?"
"Yes; he's going to eat his Christmas dinner with us, he says."
"So much the better. The pleasure of meeting him will increase thejoy of the occasion."
"I am not so sure of that," replied Mrs. Arlington, looking a littleserious. "It would have been more pleasant to have received thisvisit at almost any other time in the year."
"Why so?"
"You know his strong prejudices?"
"Oh, against dancing, and all that?"
"Yes; he thinks it a sin to dance."
"Though I do not."
"No; but it will take away half my pleasure to see him grieved atany thing that takes place in my house."
"He'll not be so weak as that."
"He thinks it sin, and will be sadly pained at its occurrence. Is itnot possible to omit dancing for once?"
"At the party to-morrow night?"
"Yes."
Mr. Arlington shook his head, as he replied--
"Don't think of such a thing. We will receive him with truekindness, because we feel it towards the good old man. But we mustnot cease to do what we know to be right, thus disappointing andmarring the pleasure of many, out of deference to a mere prejudiceof education in a single person. When we go to see him, we do notexpect that any change will be made out of deference to ourprejudices or peculiar opinions; and when he comes to see us, hemust be willing to tolerate what takes place in our family, even ifit does not meet his full approval. No, no; let us not think for amoment of any change in affairs on this account. Uncle Archer hasn'tbeen present at a gay party nor seen dancing for almost half acentury. It may do him good to witness it now. At any rate, I feelcurious to see the experiment tried."
Mrs. Arlington still argued for a little yielding in favour of thegood parson's prejudices, but her husband would not listen to such athing for a moment. Every thing, he said, must go on as usual.
"A guest who comes into a family," he remarked, "should alwaysconform himself to the family order; then there is no reaction uponhim, and all are comfortable and happy. He is not felt as a thingforeign and incongruous, but as homogeneous. To break up the usualorder, and to bend all to meet his personal prejudices andpeculiarities, is only to so disturb the family sphere as to make itactually repellent. He is then felt as an unassimilated foreignbody, and all secretly desire his removal."
"But something is due to old age!" urged Mrs. Arlington.
"Yes; much. But, if age have not softened a man's prejudices againsta good thing in itself, I doubt very much if a deference to hisprejudice, such as you propose, will in the least benefit him.Better let him come in contact with a happy circle, exhilarated bymusic and dancing; and the chances are, that his heart will melt inthe scene rather than grow colder and harder. The fact is, as Ithink of it more and more, the better pleased am I that Uncle Archeris coming just at this time."
But Mrs. Arlington felt troubled about the matter. Early onChristmas morning, the old gentleman arrived, and was welcomed withsincere affection by every member of the family. Mr. and Mrs.Arlington had a daughter, named Grace, who was just entering hereighteenth year. She was gentle and affectionate in disposition, anddrew to the side of Uncle Archer in a way that touched the old man'sfeelings. He had not seen her before this, since she was a littlegirl; and now, he could not keep his eyes off of her as she sat byhim, or moved about the room in his presence.
"What a dear girl that is!" was his remark to her mother, many timesthrough the day.
"She's a good girl," would simply reply Mrs. Arlington, speakingalmost without thought. Grace was a good girl; her mother felt this,and from her heart her lips found utterance.
It seemed, all through the day, that Grace could not do enough forthe old man's comfort. Once she drew him into her room, as he waspassing her door, to show him some pictures that she had painted. Ashe sat looking at them, he noticed a small, handsomely bound Bibleon her table. Taking it up, he said--
"Do you read this, Grace?"
"Oh, yes," she replied, "every day." And there was such a light ofgoodness in her eyes, as she looked up into his face, that Mr.Archer felt, for a moment or two, as if the countenance of an angelwas before him.
"Why do you read it?" he continued after a pause.
"It teaches us the way to heaven," said Grace.
"And you are trying to live for heaven?"
"I try to shun all evil as sin. Can I do more?"
All the minister's creeds, and doctrines, and confessions of faith,which he had ever considered the foundations upon which Christianlife was to be built, seemed, for a moment or two, useless lumberbefore the simple creed of this loving, pure-hearted maiden. To seekto disturb this state of innocence and obedience by moody polemics,he felt, instinctively, to be wrong.
"Perhaps not," was his half abstracted reply; "perhaps not. Yes,yes; shun what is evil, and the Lord will adjoin the good."
"Yes, yes; she is a good girl, as her mother says," was frequentlyrepeated by Uncle Archer during the day, when he would think ofGrace.
Evening came, and young and old began to gather in the parlours. Theminister was introduced to one and another, as they arrived, and wasmuch gratified with the respect and attention shown to him by all.Grace soon drew around him three or four of her young friends, wholistened to what he had to say with an interest that gratified hisfeelings. Nothing had been said to Grace of her uncle's prejudiceagainst dancing; she was, therefore, no little surprised to see thesudden change in his manner, when she said to a young lady in thegroup around him--
"Come! you must play some cotillions for us. We're going to have adance."
After going with the young lady to the piano, and opening it forher, Grace went back to her uncle, whose face she found deeplyclouded.
"A'n't you well, uncle?" she asked, affectionately.
"Oh yes, child, I am well enough in body," was replied.
"But something troubles you, uncle--what is it?"
By this time a number of couples were on the floor, and at themoment, a young man came up to Grace, and said--
"Shall I have the pleasure of dancing with you this evening?"
"Not in the first set," replied Grace; "but I will consider myselfengaged for the second, unless you can find a more agreeablepartner."
"Do you dance, then?" asked Uncle Arthur, gravely, after the youngman had turned away.
"Dance?" Grace was in doubt whether she had clearly understood him.
"Yes, dear."
"Certainly I do, uncle. You don't think there is harm in dancing?"
"I do, my child. And, I am sure that, after what you said aboutreading your Bible and trying to live for heaven, your admissiongreatly surprises me. Religion and dancing! How can they have anaffinity?"
"Good and evil can have no affinity," said Grace, in reply to thisremark. "Evil, I have always understood to be in a purpose to dowrong. Now, I can dance with a good purpose; and, surely, then,dancing cannot be evil to me."
"Dance with a good purpose! How can you do that, my dear?"
"I have often danced with the sole end of contributing my share tothe general enjoyment of a company."
"Strange enjoyment!" sighed the old parson.
"The timing of steps, and the orderly movement of the body inconcert with musical harmonies, often affects the mind withexquisite delight, uncle. I have enjoyed this over and over again,and have felt better and happier afterwards."
"Child! child!" replied the old man; "how it grieves me to hear yousay this."
"If there is sin in dancing, uncle," said Grace, seriously, "tell mewherein it lies. Look at the countenances of those now on the floor;do they express evil or good affection?--here, as I have beentaught, lies the sin."
"It is a foolish waste of time," returned the old man; "a foolishwaste of time; and it is an evil thing to waste the precious timethat God has given to us."
"We cannot always work or read. Both mind and body become wearied."
"Then we have time for meditation."
"But even thought will grow burdensome at times, and the mind sinkinto listlessness and inactivity. Then we need recreation, in orderthat we may afterwards both work and think better. Music anddancing, in which mind and body find an innocent delight, effectsuch a recreation. I know it is so in my case; and I know it is soin the case of others. You do not say that dancing is a thing evilin itself?"
"No." This was admitted rather reluctantly.
"Then if it be made to serve a good end, it is a good thing."
"But is often made to serve evil," said the minister.
"Then it is an evil thing," promptly answered Grace; "and so everygood gift of heaven may be made an evil thing to those who use itfor an evil purpose. You know it is said that a spider extractspoison from the same flower where the bee gets honey. The deadlynightshade draws life from the same rain and sunshine that nourishesand matures the wheat, from which our bread is made. It is thepurpose, uncle, that makes a thing evil."
"Could you pray on going to bed, after an evening spent in dancing?"asked the old man, confident that he had put a question that wouldclearly show his niece her error. To his surprise, Grace answered,with a beautiful smile on her face--
"Oh, yes; and I have so prayed, many and many a time; not failing toreturn thanks for the pleasure I had been permitted to enjoy."
"Thanks for mere carnal pleasure!"
"All things are good that are filled with good affections," saidGrace. "We are in a natural world, where all pleasure and painaffect us in the natural degree most sensibly. We must come down,that we may go up. We must let our natural joy and gladness havefree course, innocently, that they may be changed into a joy that ishigher and spiritual. Is it not so, uncle?"
Now, the old man had not expected to find such a nice head on soyoung a body; nor did he expect to be called upon to answer aquestion, which came in a form that he was not prepared either tonegative or affirm. He had put all natural pleasures under the ban,as flowing from the carnal mind; and, therefore, evil. As to fillingnatural pleasures with spiritual life, that was a new position intheology. He had preached against natural pleasures as evil, and,therefore, to be abandoned by all who would lead a heavenly life.Before he could collect his thoughts for an answer satisfactory tohimself, two or three ladies gathered around them, and he discreetlyforebore to make any further remarks on the subject. But he felt, asmay be supposed, very uncomfortable.
After the first set was danced, one of the young ladies who had beenon the floor, and who had previously been introduced to the oldgentleman by Grace, came, with colour heightened by excitement, andher beautiful face in a glow of pleasure, and sat down by his side.Mr. Archer would have received her with becoming gravity, had itbeen in his power to, do so; but the smile on her face was soinnocent, and she bent towards him so kindly and affectionately,that he could not find it in his heart to meet her with even asilent reproof. This young lady was really charming his ear, when agentleman came up to her, and said--
"Anna, I want you to dance with me."
"With pleasure," replied the girl. "You will excuse me for a while,Mr. Archer," said she, and she was about rising as she spoke, butthe old man placed his hand upon her arm, and gently detained her.
"You're not going to leave me?"
"No, not if my company will give you any pleasure," replied theyoung girl, with a gentle smile. "Please excuse me." This sheaddressed to the person who had asked her to dance. He bowed, andturned away.
"I am glad to keep you by my side," said Mr. Archer, with someseriousness in his manner.
"And I am glad to stay here," was promptly answered, "if my companywill give you any pleasure. It does me good to contribute to others'happiness."
The old man was touched by this reply, for he felt that it was fromthe heart. It sounded strangely to his ears from the lips of one whohad just been whirling in the mazy dance.
"There is no real pleasure in any thing selfish," he remarked. "Yes,you say truly, it does us good to contribute to the happiness ofothers."
"For this reason," said Anna, "I like dancing as a socialrecreation. It is a mutual pleasure. We give and receive enjoyment."
The old minister's face grew serious.
"I have been to three or four parties," continued the young girl,"where dancing was excluded, under some strange idea that it waswrong; and I must say that so much evil-speaking and censoriousnessit has never been my lot to encounter in any company. The time,instead of being improved as a season of mental and bodilyrecreation, was worse than wasted. I know that I was worse insteadof better on returning from each of these companies, for Iinsensibly fell into the prevailing spirit."
"That was very bad, certainly," remarked Mr. Archer, before whosemind arose some pictures of social gatherings, in which hadprevailed the very spirit condemned by his young companion. "But Idon't see how you are going to make dancing a sovereign remedy forthe evil."
"It is not a sovereign remedy," was answered, "but it is a concertof feeling and action, in which the mind is exhilarated, and inwhich a mutual good-will is produced. You cannot dance without beingpleased, to a greater or less extent, with your partners on thefloor. Often and often have I had a prejudice against persons wearoff as we moved together in the dances, and I have afterwardsdiscovered in them good qualities to which I was before blinded."
"Uncle," said Grace to the old man, just at this moment, bending tohis ear as she spoke, and taking his hand in hers,--"come! I want toshow you something."
Grace drew him into the adjoining parlour, where another set was onthe floor. Two children, her younger brother and sister, were in it.
"Now, just look at Ada and Willy," whispered Grace in his ear, asshe brought him in view of the young dancers. Ada was a lovelychild, and the old uncle's heart had already taken her in. She was agraceful little dancer, and moved in the figures with the lightnessof a fairy. It was a beautiful sight, and in the face of all theprejudices which half a century had worn into him, he felt that itwas beautiful. As he looked upon it, he could keep the dimness fromhis eyes only by a strong effort.
"Is there evil in that, uncle?" asked Grace, drawing her arm withinthat of the old man's.
"Is it good?" he replied.
"Yes; it is good," said Grace, emphatically, as she lifted her eyesto his.
Mr. Archer did not gainsay her words. He at least felt that it wasnot evil, though he could not admit that it was good.
Spite of the dancing, which soon ceased to offend the good old man,he passed a pleasant evening. Perhaps, he enjoyed the Christmasparty as much as any one there.
Nothing was said, on the next day, by any one, on the subject ofdancing; though Mr. Archer, especially, thought a great deal aboutthe matter. Some ideas had come into his mind that were new there,and he was pondering them attentively. On the third day of hisarrival, he had a severe attack of rheumatism, from which hesuffered great pain, besides a confinement to his room for a coupleof weeks. During that time, the untiring devotion and tendersolicitude of Grace touched the old man's heart deeply. When thepain had sufficiently abated to let his mind attain composure, shesought to interest him in various ways. Sometimes she would read tohim by the hour; sometimes she would entertain him with cheerfulconversation; and sometimes she would bring in one or two of heryoung friends whom he had met at the Christmas party.
With these, he had more than one discussion, in his sick room, onthe subject of dancing, and the old minister found these gay younggirls rather more than a match for him. During a discussion of thiskind, Grace left the room. In her absence, one of her companionssaid to him--
"Grace is a good girl."
A quick light went over the old man's countenance; and he replied,with evident feeling--
"Good? Yes; I look at her, sometimes, and think her almost anangel."
"She dances."
The old man sighed.
"She is a Christian."
"I wish there were more such in the world," said he, unhesitatingly.
"And yet she dances."
"My dear child," said Mr. Archer, turning with an affectionate smiletowards his young interlocutor, "don't take such an advantage of mein the argument."
"Then it is settled," was continued, in triumph, "that if dancing isnot a Christian grace, a maiden may dance and yet be a Christian?"
"God bless you, and keep you from all the evil of the world," saidthe old man, fervently, as he took the young girl's hand and pressedit between his own. "It may be all right! it may be all right!"
Grace came back at the moment, and he ceased speaking.
From that time the venerable minister said no more on the subject,and it is but fair to believe that when he returned home he had veryserious doubts in regard to the sin of dancing, which had once beenas fairly held as if it had been an article in the Confession ofFaith.
THE END.
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