It was a notable fact that dancing was taught in nearly all of these institutes.  In spite of Puritanical training, in spite of the thunder-bolts of colonial preachers, the tide of public opinion could not be stayed, and the girls would learn the waltz and the prim minuet.  Times had indeed changed since the day when Cotton Mather so sternly spoke his opinion on such an ungodly performance:  “Who were the Inventors of Petulant Dancings?  Learned men have well observed that the Devil was the First Inventor of the impleaded Dances, and the Gentiles who worshipped him the first Practitioners of this Art.”

Colonial school girls may have been meek and lowly in the seventeenth century—­the words of Winthrop and the Mathers rather indicate that they were—­but not so in the eighteenth.  Some of them showed an independence of spirit not at all agreeing with popular ideas of the demure maid of olden days.  Sarah Hall, for instance, whose parents lived in Barbadoes, was sent to her grandmother, Madam Coleman of Boston, to attend school.  She arrived with her maid in 1719 and soon scandalized her stately grandmother by abruptly leaving the house and engaging board and lodging at a neighboring residence.  At her brother’s command she returned; but even a brother’s authority failed to control the spirited young lady; for a few months after the episode Madam Coleman wrote:  “Sally won’t go to school nor to church and wants a nue muff and a great many other things she don’t need.  I tell her fine things are cheaper in Barbadoes.  She says she will go to Barbadoes in the Spring.  She is well and brisk, says her Brother has nothing to do with her as long as her father is alive.”  The same lady informs us that Sally’s instruction in writing cost one pound, seven shillings, and four pence, the entrance fee for dancing lessons, one pound, and the bill for dancing lessons for four months, two pounds.  No doubt it was worth the price; for later Sally became rather a dashing society belle.

One thing always emphasized in the training of the colonial girl was manners or etiquette—­the art of being a charming hostess.  As Mrs. Earle says, “It is impossible to overestimate the value these laws of etiquette, these conventions of custom had at a time, when neighborhood life was the whole outside world.”  How many, many a “don’t” the colonial miss had dinned into her ears!  Hear but a few of them:  “Never sit down at the table till asked, and after the blessing.  Ask for nothing; tarry till it be offered thee.  Speak not.  Bite not thy bread but break it.  Take salt only with a clean knife.  Dip not the meat in the same.  Hold not thy knife upright but sloping, and lay it down at the right hand of plate with blade on plate.  Look not earnestly at any other that is eating.  When moderately satisfied leave the table.  Sing not, hum not, wriggle not....  Smell not of thy Meat; make not a noise with thy Tongue, Mouth, Lips, or Breath in Thy Eating and Drinking....  When any speak to thee, stand up.  Say not I have heard it before.  Never endeavour to help him out if he tell it not right.  Snigger not; never question the Truth of it.”