The Tendency to Dance in the Woods. 
The modern schools of dancing, such, 
for example, as the Noyes School of 
Rhythm in New York City, by holding 
their summer session in the wilds near 
Cobalt, Connecticut, have based their 
success on a fundamental element of 
human nature. Buried in the heart of 
almost every one is the principle of 
the fairy, elfin or sprite. We all like 
to wander like the will-o’-the-wisp 
when we enter the woods. 
That innate element of human na- 
ture is clearly brought out by John 
Muir in “The Mountains of California 
“Our guide, a jolly, rollicking Ital- 
ian, led us into the heart of the hill, 
up and down, right and left, from cham- 
ber to chamber more and more mag- 
nificent. all a-glitter like a glacier cave 
with icicle-like stalactites and stalag- 
mites combined in forms of indescrib- 
able beauty. We were shown one large 
room that was occasionally used as a 
dancing-hall ; another that was used as 
a chapel, with natural pulpit and 
crosses and pews, sermons in every 
stone, where a priest had said mass. 
Mass-saying is not so generally devel- 
oped in connection with natural won- 
ders as dancing. One of the first con- 
ceits excited by the giant Sequoias was 
to cut one of them down and dance on 
its stump. We have also seen dancing 
in the spray of Niagara ; dancing in the 
famous Bower Cave above Coulter- 
ville : and nowhere have I seen so much 
dancing as in Yosemite. A dance on 
the inaccessible South Dome would 
likely follow the making of an easy way 
to the top of it.” 
We find at Arc \i>i A an interesting 
confirmation of the predominance of 
the spirit of dancing over the religious 
element. We built our Welcome Re- 
ception Room in the form of a chapel 
with an electric Swiss Cross in the ceil- 
ing, intending it for meetings of stu- 
dents and visitors in the spirit of our 
large motto on the wall, “Per Naturam 
ad Deum.” Several churches and Sun- 
day schools have held sessions there, 
but no stranger entering the room for 
the first time has ever spoken of its re- 
ligious aspect, but almost invariably 
said, “What a lovely place to give a 
dance,” although it is not fitted up like 
a dance hall and is not such, but has 
rugs on the floor and a center table 
with books. 
In more recent years we have built 
Little Japan, designed for similar pur- 
poses and emphasized by the Japanese 
sacred emblem of a torii. As the 
groves were God’s first temples the 
grove seemed a good place in which to 
bring out the religious idea of nature 
study, yet the remark of the stranger 
is, “What a lovely place to have dances. 
I suppose you have them frequently.” 
During the several years that we 
have used the equipment, there has 
been only one occasion in Little Japan 
when dancing was a prominent feature. 
We are hoping to be surprised some 
day by the remark, “What a lovely 
place for a vesper service as the setting 
sun is casting long shadows under the 
trees.” 
Where Do Automobilists Go and What 
Do They See? 
In “The American Magazine” for 
September, George Ade has an article 
brimful of humour and philosophy on 
the modern rush of things as typified 
by the speeding automobilists. In a 
fine burst of humor Ade tells us how 
to get acquainted with a town on short 
notice. 
“Don’t annoy the postmaster and 
don’t go near the bank. The banker 
will think that you want a check 
cashed. Drive right into the heart of 
Main Street and pull up in front of a 
red-white-and-blue pole. The barber is 
the lad for you. He is always sociable, 
and he can immediately put you in 
