Deacon Soper came up presently and entered into conversation with
Colonel Sprowle.
"I hope to see our pastor present this evenin'," said the Deacon.
"I don't feel quite sure," the Colonel answered. "His dyspepsy has been
bad on him lately. He wrote to say, that, Providence permittin', it
would be agreeable to him to take a part in the exercises of the
evenin'; but I mistrusted he didn't mean to come. To tell the truth,
Deacon Soper, I rather guess he don't like the idee of dancin', and
some of the other little arrangements."
"Well," said the Deacon, "I know there's some condemns dancin'. I've
heerd a good deal of talk about it among the folks round. Some have it
that it never brings a blessin' on a house to have dancin' in it. Judge
Tileston died, you remember, within a month after he had his great
ball, twelve year ago, and some thought it was in the natur' of a
judgment. I don't believe in any of them notions. If a man happened to
be struck dead the night after he'd been givin' a ball," (the Colonel
loosened his black stock a little, and winked and swallowed two or
three times,) "I shouldn't call it a judgment,--I should call it a
coincidence.
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