ronger proof than in the feat of these
indomitable dotards? The Morris ceased not even during the Civil Wars.
Some of King Charles's men (according to Groby, the Puritan) danced
thus on the eve of Naseby. Not even the Protectorate could stamp the
Morris out, though we are told that Groby and other preachers
throughout the land inveighed against it as 'lewde' and 'ungodlie.' The
Restoration was in many places celebrated by special Morrises. The
perihelion of this dance seems, indeed, to have been in the reign of
Charles II. Georgian writers treated it somewhat as a survival, and
were not always even tender to it. Says a writer in Bladud's Courier,
describing a 'soire'e de beaute'' given by Lady Jersey, 'Mrs. ---- (la
belle) looked as silly and gaudy, I do vow, as one of the old Morris
Dancers.' And many other writers--from Horace Walpole to Captain
Harver--have their sneer at the Morris. Its rusticity did not appeal to
the polite Georgian mind; and its Moorishness, which would have
appealed strongly, was overlooked. Still, the Morris managed to survive
urban disdain--was still dear to the carles whose fathers had taught it
them.

And long may it linger!

THE HOUSE OF COMMONS MANNER

A grave and beautiful place, the Palace of Westminster. I sometimes go
to that little chamber of it wherein the Commons sit sprawling or stand
spouting. I am a constant reader of the 'graphic reports' of what goes
on in the House of Commons; and the writers of these things always
strive to give one the impression that nowhere is the human comedy so
fast and furious, nowhere played with such skill and brio, as at St.
Stephen's; and I am rather easily influenced by anything that appears
in daily print, for I have a burning faith in the sagacity and
uprightness of sub-editors; and so, when the memory of my last visit to
the House has lost its edge, and when there is a crucial debate in
prospect, to the House I go, full of hope that this time I really shall
be edified or entertained. With an open mind I go, reeking naught of
the pro's and con's of the subject of the debate. I go as to a
gladiatorial show, eager to applaud any man who shall wield his sword
brilliantly. If a 'stranger' indulge in applause, he is tapped on the
shoulder by one of those courteous, magpie-like officials, and
conducted beyond the precincts of the Palace of Westminster. I speak
from hearsay. I do not think I have ever seen a 'stranger' applauding.
My own hands, c