Page 86 |
Previous | 86 of 520 | Next |
|
small (250x250 max)
medium (500x500 max)
Large
Extra Large
large ( > 500x500)
Full Resolution
|
This page
All
|
T H E H A L F - B R E E D S C R I P C O M M I S S I O N 75
But the two dancing floors were the chief attraction. These
also had been walled and roofed with leafy saplings, their
fronts open to the air, and, thronged as they generally were,
" well repaid a visit. Here the comely brunettes, i n moccasins
or slippers, their luxuriant hair falling i n a braided queue
behind their backs, served not only as tireless partners, but
as foils to the young men, who were one and all consummate
masters of step- dancing, an art which, I am glad to say, was
s t i l l i n vogue i n these remote parts. " French- fours " and
the immortal " R e d River J i g " were repeated again and
again, and, though a tall and handsome young half- breed,
who had learned i n Edmonton, probably, the airs and graces
of the polite world, introduced cotillons and gave " the calls "
w i t h vigorous precision, yet his efforts were not thoroughly
successful. Snarls arose, and knots and confusion, which he
d i d his best to undo. But it was evident that the hearts of
the dancers were not i n i t . No sooner was the fiddler heard
lowering his strings for the time- honoured " J i g " than eyes
brightened, and feet began to beat the floor, including, of
course, those of the fiddler himself, who put his whole soul
into that weird and wonderful melody, whose fantastic glee
i s so strangly blended with an indescribable master- note of
sadness. The dance itself is nothing; it might as well be
called a Rigadoon or a Sailor's Hornpipe, so far as the steps
go. The tune is everything; it is amongst the immortals.
Who composed it ? D i d it come from Normandy, the ancest
r a l home of so many French Canadians and of French
Canadian song? Or d i d some lonely but inspired voyageur,
on the banks of Red River, sighing for Detroit or Trois
Rivieres— for the joys and sorrows of home— give birth to
its mingled chords i n the far, w i l d past ?
As I looked on, many memories recurred to me of scenes
l i k e this i n which I had myself taken part i n bygone days—
Eheu! fugaces— in old Red River and the Saskatchewan;
and, with these i n my heart, I retired to my tent, and gradua
l l y fell asleep to the monotonous sound of the familiar yet
inexplicable air.
Object Description
Description
| Title | Page 86 |
| OCR | T H E H A L F - B R E E D S C R I P C O M M I S S I O N 75 But the two dancing floors were the chief attraction. These also had been walled and roofed with leafy saplings, their fronts open to the air, and, thronged as they generally were, " well repaid a visit. Here the comely brunettes, i n moccasins or slippers, their luxuriant hair falling i n a braided queue behind their backs, served not only as tireless partners, but as foils to the young men, who were one and all consummate masters of step- dancing, an art which, I am glad to say, was s t i l l i n vogue i n these remote parts. " French- fours " and the immortal " R e d River J i g " were repeated again and again, and, though a tall and handsome young half- breed, who had learned i n Edmonton, probably, the airs and graces of the polite world, introduced cotillons and gave " the calls " w i t h vigorous precision, yet his efforts were not thoroughly successful. Snarls arose, and knots and confusion, which he d i d his best to undo. But it was evident that the hearts of the dancers were not i n i t . No sooner was the fiddler heard lowering his strings for the time- honoured " J i g " than eyes brightened, and feet began to beat the floor, including, of course, those of the fiddler himself, who put his whole soul into that weird and wonderful melody, whose fantastic glee i s so strangly blended with an indescribable master- note of sadness. The dance itself is nothing; it might as well be called a Rigadoon or a Sailor's Hornpipe, so far as the steps go. The tune is everything; it is amongst the immortals. Who composed it ? D i d it come from Normandy, the ancest r a l home of so many French Canadians and of French Canadian song? Or d i d some lonely but inspired voyageur, on the banks of Red River, sighing for Detroit or Trois Rivieres— for the joys and sorrows of home— give birth to its mingled chords i n the far, w i l d past ? As I looked on, many memories recurred to me of scenes l i k e this i n which I had myself taken part i n bygone days— Eheu! fugaces— in old Red River and the Saskatchewan; and, with these i n my heart, I retired to my tent, and gradua l l y fell asleep to the monotonous sound of the familiar yet inexplicable air. |
Tags
Comments
Post a Comment for Page 86
