A message comes down to us at Ardnagreena--where we commonly spend our Sunday afternoons--that they expect a good dance, and the blind boy is coming to fiddle; and 'so if you will be coming up, it's welcome you'll be.' We join them about five o'clock--passing, on our way, groups of 'boys' of all ages from sixteen upwards, walking in twos and threes, and parties of three or four girls by themselves; for it would not be etiquette for the boys and girls to walk together, such strictness is observed in these matters about here.
When we reach the rendezvous we find quite a crowd of young men and maidens assembled; the girls all at one side of the road, neatly dressed in dark skirts and light blouses, with the national woollen shawl over their heads.

Two wide stone walls, or dykes, with turf on top, make capital seats, and the boys are at the opposite side, as custom demands.
When a young man wants a partner, he steps across the road and asks a colleen, who lays aside her shawl, generally giving it to a younger sister to keep until the dance is over, when the girls go back to their own side of the road and put on their shawls again.

Upon our arrival we find the 'sets' are already in progress; a 'set' being a dance like a very intricate and very long quadrille.

We are greeted with many friendly words, and the young boatmen and farmers' sons ask the ladies, "Will you be pleased to dance, miss ?" Some of them are shy, and say they are not familiar with the steps; but their would-be partners remark encouragingly: "Sure, and what matter?
I'll see you through." Soon all are dancing, and the state of the road is being discussed with as much interest as the floor of a ballroom.

Eager directions are given to the more ignorant newcomers, such as, "Twirl your girl, captain!" or "Turn your back to your face!"-- rather a difficult direction to carry out, but one which conveys its meaning.