We took the vial aboard and went on; but the incident powerfullyaffected us. The weird voice of the very aged woman was exciting in it-self, and we could not escape the image of this unknown man, dancingabout this region without any medicine, fleeing perchance by eveningand alone, and finally flitting away down the Gut of Canso. Thisfugitive mystery almost immediately shaped itself into the followingsimple poem:

"There was an aged man of Canso,Unable to sit or stan' so.When I asked him why he ran so,Says he, 'I've St. Vitus' dance so,All down the Gut of Canso.'"