AN IRISH DANCING-MASTER.

In those racy old times, when the manners and usages of Irishmen were more simple than they are at present, dancing was cultivated as one of the chief amusements of life, and the dancingmaster looked upon as a person essentially necessary to the proper enjoyment of our national recreation. He eked out a precarious but generally contented existence by developing in the young those graces of manner, the possession of which was his constant and proudest boast. At one time he led a sort of vagabond life, wandering from house to house; but generally he managed to collect together a number of the youth of both sexes, and, as master of a dancing-school, lorded it over them with all the dignity at his command.

One of the most amusing specimens of the dancing-master that I ever met, was a person who bore the nickname of Buckram-Back.

He was a dapper, light little fellow, with a rich Tipperary brogue, crossed by a lofty strain of illegitimate English, which he picked up whilst in the army. His habiliments sat as tight upon him as he could readily wear them, and were all of the shabby-genteel, class. His crimped black coat was a closely worn second-hand, and his crimped face quite as much of a second-hand as the coat. I think I see his little pumps, little white stockings, his coaxed drab breeches, his hat, smart in its cock but brushed to a polish and standing upon three hairs, together with his tight questionably colored gloves, all before me. Certainly he was the jauntiest little cock living—quite a blood, ready to fight any man, and a great defender of the fair sex, whom he never addressed except in that highflown, bombastic style so agreeable to most of them, called by their flatterers the

complimentary, and by their friends the fulsome.

He was,

in fact, a public man, and up to everything. You met him at every fair, where he only had time to give you a wink as he passed, being just then engaged in a very particular affair; but he would tell you again. At cockfights he was a very busy personage, and an angry better from half a crown downwards. At races he was a knowing fellow, always shook hands with the winning jockey, and then looked pompously about, that folks might see that he was hand and glove with those who knew something.

The house where Buckram-Back kept his dancing school, which was open only after the hours of labor, was an uninhabited cabin, the roof of which, at a particular spot, was supported by a post that stood upright from the floor. It was built upon an elevated situation, and commanded a fine view of the whole country for miles about it. A pleasant sight it was to see the modest and pretty girls, dressed in their best frocks and ribbons, radiating in little groups from all directions, accompanied by their partners or lovers, making way through the fragrant summer fields of a calm cloudless evening, to this happy scene of innocent amusement.

And yet what an epitome of general life, with its passions, jealousies, plots, calumnies and contentions, did this little segment of society present! There was the shrew, the slattern, the coquette and the prude as sharply marked within this their humble sphere, as if they appeared on the world's wider stage, with half its wealth and all its temptations to draw forth their prevailing foibles. There, too, was the bully, the rake, the liar, the coxcomb and the coward, each as perfect and distinct in his kind as if he had run through a lengthened course of fashionable dissipation, or spent a fortune in acquiring his particular character. The elements of the human heart, however, and the passions that make up the general business of life, are the same in high and low, and exist with impulses as strong in the cabin as they have in the palace. The only difference is, that they have not equal room to play.

Buckram-Back's system, in originality of design, in comic conception of decorum, and in the easy practical assurance with which he wrought it out, was never equalled, much less surpassed. Had the impudent little rascal confined himself to dancing as usually taught, there would have been nothing so ludicrous or uncommon in it; but no: he was such a stickler for example in everything, that no other mode of instruction would satisfy him. Dancing! Why, it was the least part of what he taught or professed to teach.

In the first place, he undertook to teach every one of us--for I had the honor of being his pupil—how to enter a drawing-room "in the most fashionable manner alive," as he said himself.

Secondly. He was the only man, he said, who could in the most agreeable and polite style taich a gintleman how to salute, or, as he termed it, how to shiloote, a leedy. This he taught, he said, wid great success.

Thirdly. He could taich every leedy and gintleman how to make the most beautiful bow or curchy on airth, by only imitating himself-one that would cause a thousand people, if they were all present, to think that it was particularly intended only for aich o' themselves!

Fourthly. He taught the whole art o' courtship wid all politeness and success, accordin' as it was practiced in Paris durin' the last saison.

Fifthly. He could taich thim how to write love-letthers and valentines, accordin' to the Great Macademetian.compliments, which was supposed to be invinted by Bonaparte when he was writing love-letthers to both his wives.

Sixthly. He was the only person who could taich the famous dance called Sir Roger de Coverly, or the Helter-Skelter Drag, which comprehinded widin itself all the advantages and beauties of his whole system—in which every gintleman was at liberty to pull every leedy where he plaised, and every leedy was at liberty to go wherever he pulled her.

With such advantages in prospect, and a method of instruction so agreeable, it is not to be wondered at that his establishment

was always in a most flourishing condition. The truth is, he had so contrived that every gentleman should salute his lady as often as possible, and for this purpose actually invented dances, in which not only should every gentleman salute every lady, but every lady, by way of returning the compliment, should render a similar kindness to every gentleman. Nor had his male pupils all his prodigality of salutation to themselves, for the amorous little rascal always commenced first and ended last, in order, he said, that they might cotch the manner from himself. "I do this, leedies and gintlemen, as your moral (model), and because it's part o' my system-ahem!"

And then he would perk up his little hard face, that was too barren to produce more than an abortive smile, and twirl like a wagtail over the floor, in a manner that he thought irresistible.

Whether Buckram-Back was the only man who tried to reduce kissing to a system of education in this country, I do not know. It is certainly true that many others of his stamp made a knowledge of the arts and modes of courtship, like him, a part of the course. The forms of love-letters, valentines, etc., were taught their pupils of both sexes, with many other polite particulars, which it is to be hoped have disappeared forever.

One thing, however, to the honor of our countrywomen we are bound to observe, which is, that we do not remember a single result incompatible with virtue to follow from the little fellow's system, which by the way was in this respect peculiar only to himself, and not the general custom of the country. Several weddings, unquestionably, we had, more than might otherwise have taken place, but in not one instance have we known any case in which a female was brought to unhappiness or shame.

We shall now give a brief sketch of Buckram-Back's manner of tuition, begging our readers at the same time to rest assured that any sketch we could give would fall far short of the original. 'Paddy Corcoran, walk out an' 'inther your drawin'-room;' an' let Miss Judy Hanratty go out along wid you, an' come in as Mrs. Corcoran."

66

"Faith, I'm afeard, masther, I'll make a bad hand of it; but,

sure, it's something to have Judy here to keep me in countenance." "Is that by way of compliment, Paddy? Mr. Corcoran, you should ever an' always spaik to a leedy in an alyblasther tone, for that's the cut." [Paddy and Judy retire.

66

'Mickey Scanlan, come up here, now that we're braithin' a little; an' you, Miss Grauna Mulholland, come up along wid him. Miss Mulholland, you are masther of your five positions and your fifteen attitudes, I believe?” “Yes, sir.” 'Very well, Miss. Mickey Scanlan-ahem !—Misther Scanlan, can you perfome the positions also, Mickey ?"

66

"Yes, sir; but you remimber I stuck at the eleventh altitude.” "Attitude, sir-no matther. Well, Misther Scanlan, do you know how to shiloote a leedy, Mickey?"

"Faix, it's hard to say, sir, till we thry; but I'm very willin' to larn it. I'll do my best, an' the best can do no more."

"Very well-ahem! Now merk me, Misther Scanlan; you approach your leedy in this style, bowin' politely, as I do. 'Miss Mulholland, will you allow me the honor of a heavenly shiloote ?' Don't bow, ma'am; you are to curchy, you know; a little lower eef you plaise. Now you say, 'Wid the greatest pleasure ... life, sir, an' many thanks for the feevor.' (Smack.) There, now, you are to make another curchy politely, an' say, 'Thank you, kind sir, I owe you one.' Now, Misther Scanlan, proceed."

"I'm to imitate you, masther, as well as I can, sir, I believe?" "Yes, sir, you are to imiteet me. But hould, sir; did you see me lick my lips or pull up my breeches? Be gorra, that's shockin' unswintemintal. First make a curchy, a bow, I mane, to Miss Granna. Stop agin, sir; you are goin' to sthrangle the leedy? Why, one would think that it's about to teek laive of her forever you are. Gently, Misther Scanlan; gently, Mickey. There:-well, that's an improvement. Practice, Misther Scanlan, practice will do all, Mickey; but don't smack so loud, though. Hilloo, gintlemen! where's our drawin'-room folk? Go out, one of you, for Misther an' Mrs. Paddy Corcoran."

Corcoran's face now appears peeping in at the door, lit up with a comic expression of genuine fun, from whatever cause it may have proceeded.