ver religion or politics was the topic of discussion.
Abner Dudley distrusted this easy acquiescence, and had a suspicion
that the views which Drane expressed so glibly were not his true
sentiments--a suspicion which Betsy Gilcrest appeared to share, as
testified by the scornful toss of her head, the contemptuous smile that
flitted across her lips, and the sarcastic light that flashed in her
eyes whenever the bland and brilliant young lawyer fluently argued in
favor of federalism and Calvinism.

No distinctions of rank and culture disturbed the homogeneous character
of society at Cane Ridge. Friendships were warm and constant; and just
as these men and women had toiled and struggled together in the first
days of settlement, so now they and their children lived, worked, and
enjoyed their simple pleasures in cordial harmony. Although staunch
Presbyterians in doctrine, these people did not, as a rule, oppose
dancing. Mason Rogers was the fiddler of the neighborhood, and as much
esteemed in that capacity as in that of song-leader at church; and even
Deacon Gilcrest, notwithstanding the Puritanical stiffness of his
mental joints upon questions of creed, relaxed considerably upon
matters of social pastimes; nor did he assume superiority over his
neighbors on account of his greater wealth and education. On the
contrary, he encouraged his niece and daughter to mingle in all the
social functions of the community. Hence, the young schoolmaster was
likewise a frequenter of these gatherings--drawn thither by the hope of
seeing Abby Patterson, who, although she did not participate in any of
the more boisterous games, was frequently present as an onlooker; and
while the crowd of merry young people were romping through
"Rise-up-thimbler," "Shoot-the-buffalo," or "Skip-to-me, -Lou," Abner
had the opportunity he coveted, a quiet chat with Abby in some retired
corner of the room.

One form of merry-making which was in high favor among the women of
that day was the quilting-bee. These quilters of the long ago must have
been accomplished needlewomen, as evidenced by the heirlooms in
"diamond," "rose," "basket," and other quaint designs which have
descended to us from our great-grandmothers.

One Saturday in November there was a quilting-bee and a corn-shucking
at farmer Trabue's. Early in the afternoon the matrons and maids of
Cane Ridge--each with thimble, needles and scissors in a long reticule
dangling from her waist--congregated in