s and
cushions, and there punch was served during the evening. Major Barker
and Faye made the punch. The orchestra might have been better, but the
two violins and the accordion gave us music that was inspiring, and gave
us noise, too, and then Doos, who played the accordion, kept us merry by
the ever-pounding down of one government-shod foot.

Everyone in the garrison came--even the chaplain was here during the
supper. The officers Were in full-dress uniform, and the only man in
plain evening dress was Mr. Dunn, the post trader, and in comparison to
the gay uniforms of the officers he did look so sleek, from his shiny
black hair down to the toes of his shiny black pumps! Mrs. Barker and
I received, of course, and she was very pretty in a pink silk gown
entirely covered with white net, that was caught up at many places
by artificial pink roses. The color was most becoming, and made very
pronounced the rich tint of her dark skin and her big black eyes.

Well, we danced before supper and we danced after supper, and when we
were beginning to feel just a wee bit tired, there suddenly appeared in
our midst a colored woman--a real old-time black mammy--in a dress
of faded, old-fashioned plaids, with kerchief, white apron, and a
red-and-yellow turban tied around her head. We were dancing at the time
she came in, but everyone stopped at once, completely lost in amazement,
and she had the floor to herself. This was what she wanted, and she
immediately commenced to dance wildly and furiously, as though she was
possessed, rolling her big eyes and laughing to show the white teeth.
Gradually she quieted down to a smooth, rhythmic motion, slowly swaying
from side to side, sometimes whirling around, but with feet always flat
on the floor, often turning on her heels. All the time her arms were
extended and her fingers snapping, and snapping also were the
black eyes. She was the personification of grace, but the dance was
weird--made the more so by the setting of bright evening dresses and
glittering uniforms. One never sees a dance of this sort these days,
even in the South, any more than one sees the bright-colored turban.
Both have passed with the old-time darky.

Of course we recognized Mrs. Barker, more because there was no one else
in our small community who could personify a darky so perfectly, than
because there was any resemblance to her in looks or gesture. The
make-up was artistic, and how she managed the quick transformatio