The concluding dance at a country wake, or other general meeting, is the “Cushion Dance;” and if it be not called for when the company are tired with dancing, the fiddler, who has an interest in it which will be seen hereafter, frequently plays the tune to remind them of it. A young man of the company leaves the room; the poor young women, uninformed of the plot against them, suspecting nothing; but he no sooner returns, bearing a cushion in one hand and a pewter pot in the other, than they are aware of the mischief intended, and would certainly make their escape, had not the bearer of cushion and pot, aware of the invincible aversion which young women have to be saluted by young men, prevented their flight by locking the door, and putting the key in his pocket. The dance then begins. The young man advances to the fiddler, drops a penny in the pot, and gives it to one of his companions; cushion then dances round the room, followed by pot, and when they again reach the fiddler, the cushion says in a sort of recitative, accompanied by the music, “This dance it will no farther go.” The fiddler, in return, sings or says, for it partakes of both, “I pray, kind sir, why say you so?” The answer is, “Because Joan Sanderson won’t come to.” “But,” replies the fiddler, “she must come to, and she shall come to, whether she will or no.” The young man, thus armed with the authority of the village musician, recommences his dance round the room, but stops when he comes to the girl he likes best, and drops the cushion at her feet; she puts her penny in the pewter pot, and kneels down with the young man on the cushion, and he salutes her. When they rise, the woman takes up the cushion, and leads the dance, the man following, and holding the skirt of her gown; and having made the circuit of the room, they stop near the fiddler, and the same dialogue is repeated, except, as it is now the woman who speaks, it is _John_ Sanderson who won’t come to, and the fiddler’s mandate is issued to _him_, not her. The woman drops the cushion at the feet of her favourite man; the same ceremony and the same dance are repeated, till every man and woman, the pot bearer last, has been taken out, and all have danced round the room in a file. The pence are the perquisite of the fiddler. H. N. P.S. There is a description of this dance in Miss Hutton’s “Oakwood Hall.” * * * * * THE CUSHION DANCE. _For the Table Book._ “Saltabamus.” The village-green is clear and dight Under the starlight sky; Joy in the cottage reigns to night, And brightens every eye: The peasants of the valley meet Their labours to advance, And many a lip invites a treat To celebrate the “Cushion Dance.”