o an iron gravity,
their hands are as rigid as those of a graven image, and then, the
fatal moment having arrived, they agitate their legs with a cold fury
which is distinctly unpleasant. Having finished they dash their
partners from their sides and retire to blush and curse in a corner.

"When a man dances he should laugh and crow and snap his fingers and
make faces; otherwise, he is not dancing at all, he is taking exercise.
No person should be allowed to dance without first swearing that he
feels only six years of age. People who admit to feeling more than ten
years old should be sent to hospital, and any one proved guilty of
fourteen years of age should be lodged in gaol without the option.

"It is peculiar how often opposite emotions may meet on a common plane
of expression. The extremes of love and hate strive to get equally
close to kiss or to bite the object of their regard. Work and play may
be equally strenuous and equally enthralling. Hunger and satiety unite
in a common boredom. A happy person will dance from sheer delight, and
the man in whom a pin has been secreted can only by dancing express the
exquisite sensibility of his cuticle. Whatever one does or refrains
from doing one must be tired by bed-time--it is a law--but one may be
pleasantly tired.

"I will suspect the morals of a man who cannot dance. I will look
curiously into his sugar or statecraft. I will impeach his candour or
reticence, and sneer at his method of lighting a fire unless he can
frolic when he goes out for a walk with a dog--that is the beginning of
dancing: the end of it is the beginning of a world. A young dog is a
piece of early morning disguised in an earthly fell, and the man who
can resist his contagion is a sour, dour, miserable mistake, without
bravery, without virtue, without music, with a cranky body and a
shrivelled soul, and with eyes incapable of seeing the sunlight.

"I have often thought that dogs are a very superior race of people.
They are certainly more highly organised on the affectional plane than
man. A dog will love you just for the fun of it--and that is virtue.
Pat a dog on the head and he will dance around you in an ecstasy of
good-fellowship. Let us, at least, be the equal of these sagacities.
Let us put away our false intellectual pride. Let us learn to be
unconscious. The average man trembles into a dance imagining that all
eyes are rayed upon him wonderingly or admiringly, whereas, in truth,
he will on