Mr Jenkison. I know not what your wild and original man might think of the matter in the abstract; but comparatively, I conceive, he would be better pleased with the vision of such a scene as this, than with that of a party of Indians (who would have all the advantage of being nearly as wild as himself), dancing their infernal war-dance round a midnight fire in a North American forest.

Mr Escot. Not if you should impart to him the true nature of both, by laying open to his view the springs of action in both parties.

Mr Jenkison. To do this with effect, you must make him a profound metaphysician, and thus transfer him at once from his wild and original state to a very advanced stage of intellectual progression; whether that progression be towards good or evil, I leave you and our friend Foster to settle between you.

Mr Escot. I wish to make no change in his habits and feelings, but to give him, hypothetically, so much mental illumination, as will enable him to take a clear view of two distinct stages of the deterioration of his posterity, that he may be enabled to compare them with each other, and with his own more happy condition.  The Indian, dancing round the midnight fire, is very far deteriorated; but the magnificent beau, dancing to the light of chandeliers, is infinitely more so.  The Indian is a hunter:  he makes great use of fire, and subsists almost entirely on animal food.  The malevolent passions that spring from these pernicious habits involve him in perpetual war.  He is, therefore, necessitated, for his own preservation, to keep all the energies of his nature in constant activity:  to this end his midnight war-dance is very powerfully subservient, and, though in itself a frightful spectacle, is at least justifiable on the iron plea of necessity.

Mr Jenkison. On the same iron plea, the modern system of dancing is more justifiable.  The Indian dances to prepare himself for killing his enemy:  but while the beaux and belles of our assemblies dance, they are in the very act of killing theirs—­TIME!—­a more inveterate and formidable foe than any the Indian has to contend with; for, however completely and ingeniously killed, he is sure to rise again, “with twenty mortal murders on his crown,” leading his army of blue devils, with ennui in the van, and vapours in the rear.

Mr Escot. Your observation militates on my side of the question; and it is a strong argument in favour of the Indian, that he has no such enemy to kill.

Mr Jenkison. There is certainly a great deal to be said against dancing:  there is also a great deal to be said in its favour.  The first side of the question I leave for the present to you:  on the latter, I may venture to allege that no amusement seems more natural and more congenial to youth than this.  It has the advantage of bringing young persons of both sexes together, in a manner which its publicity