upon them, or
to offer a word of criticism: it is requisite and necessary, even as one
should advise a change of clothing to somebody about to quit the ballroom
for some rough-and-tumble pastime in the open fields.

Firstly, as to the manner of the steps. The Morris-men wear bells
strapped to their shins; the bells are there that they may ring their
music--and a fine wholesome music it is, too: to ring, they must be well
shaken; to be shaken, the leg they are strapped to must be kicked and
stamped. Get that principle into your head, and that practice into your
legs, and you make the first long stride towards acquisition of the art
of Morris dancing. Strap a set of bells to your shins, get out upon a
grass-plot or the King's highway; never mind elegance or the criticism of
the emasculate modern: kick and stamp upon the earth in such a manner as
to make your bells ring their loudest, and ring all together. You will
see pretty soon that, to do so, you must, when you jump, let the heels
come solidly to earth, immediately following the toes--no man, even an
old-time Morris-man, may jump and alight upon his heels alone, with the
spine held rigidly above them (_see_ p. 33). You will find also that, in
stepping it, whether to advance or retire, or to step rhythmically in one
place, to make your bells ring the true _fortissimo_ you must _kick_, and
kick hard.

Half an hour's experiment of this kind will do more to instil into the
would-be dancer the spirit that presides at Morris revels than chapters
of exhortation. It is a robust and friendly spirit, and will set the
learner's steps--given that he be of English blood, or even of
Anglo-Saxon sympathy--a-thumping to its solid downrightness.

Once possessed of the spirit, the form of the Morris step needs little
explanation and description, for the steps are few and simple. With an
eye upon the foregoing notes and, it is hoped, a personal memory of the
experiment as recommended, the learner will readily grasp the description
that follows here.

Roughly, the Morris step is alike throughout all the dances; it varies
only in force, length (i.e., the length of the stride varies more or
less), and height (i.e., the foot is lifted more or less).

The foot, when lifted, is never drawn back, but always thrust forward.
The toe is never pointed in line with the leg, but held at a right-angle
to it, as in the standing position. The foot, therefore, the forward or
stepping foot, is lifte