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 lifted as in walking, as if to step forward, then the leg is vigorously straightened to a kick, so as to make the bells ring.  At the same instant that the forward leg is straightened, a hop is made on the rear foot; the dancer alights upon the toe, but lets the heel follow immediately and firmly, so that he stands upon the flat foot.  A good snap-shot photograph of one in the act of walking, when the forward foot has made about three-fourths of its stride, gives a perfect illustration of the Morris dancer’s step.

As with the step, so also with the jump, which in so many cases begins and ends a measure; the dancer jumps, roughly, as high as his own foot, holding when in air legs and body straight, alighting upon the toes, but only so as to break the shock sufficiently for comfort, then letting the heels come firmly down.  In alighting from the jump, the knees are bent just enough to save the dancer from injurious shock, and are straightened immediately.