mily greatly honored and beloved among the Dutch
settlers of Manhattan Island.

After the contra-dance was concluded, amid the applause and laughter of
the spectators, four young slaves were singled out from the others, and
took their places on the floor. Two of these were girls, pretty
mulattoes, and two young, bright-colored negro men as their partners. To
rather slow music they went through with a rhythmic dance, in which
their figures swayed to and fro, chiefly from the waist, a gliding
serpentine dance, evidently copied from the slaves of Martinique, and
brought to New York by the French families. And then, to Peter's great
delight, came the event of the evening, in his eyes,--the dance of
Miranda with her new admirer from Broucklen Heights.

"Miranda is my maid," explained Clarissa to Madam De Lancey and Mrs.
Morris, as they waited for the performers to take their places. "I
fetched her from Connecticut when I was married, and she is, as you see,
very pretty and most graceful. The dance is a species of Spanish dance,
I fancy, for it is done with two scarfs of red and yellow; I purchased
the stuff a year ago from a Dutch peddler, and Miranda begged it of me
last week."

"Cousin Clarissa," said Peter, rushing up, "we will want more light to
enable you to see this; the candles are getting low. With your
permission, may Pompey light the big lantern on the wall?"

About the middle of the kitchen hung a lantern which had once been used
for illuminating purposes outside the mansion. It contained a piece of
tin which acted as a reflector; and Peter, who had never yet had the
pleasure of seeing it lit, had amused himself that very morning by
putting in the candles for which it was prepared, and informed Aunt
Dinah that he meant to light it by way of a climax to the festivities of
Christmas Eve.

"The big lantern?" replied Clarissa; "it has not been lit this three
years."

"I made it ready this morning; oh, do say yes."

"Certainly," said Clarissa, smiling; "but tell Pompey to be careful,
Peter."

Off flew Peter, and up on a bench mounted Pompey, nothing loth to add
dignity to the scene by illuminating it. Jan Steen drew his bow across
his violin with a long, sweet note, and out on the floor glided Miranda,
holding the hand of a tall, athletic-looking young negro, whose motions
were grace itself. They began at the top of the room, holding the scarfs
aloft, and slowly made their way down until they were in the cent