ree or four banjoes were brought out, and the two Joes, and several
ebony gentlemen, seating themselves on the boxes of clothing, began
tuning the instruments. Soon 'Boss Joe' commenced sawing away with a
gusto that might have been somewhat out of keeping with his gray hairs,
his sixty years, and his clerical profession. 'Massa Joe' and the others
striking in, the male and female darkies paired off two by two, and to a
lively air began dancing a sort of 'cotillion breakdown.' Other dances
followed, in which the little negroes joined, and soon the air rang with
the creak of the fiddles and the merry shouts of the negroes. In the
midst of it my arm was touched lightly, and, turning round, I saw Rosey
and Dinah.

'I'se got de little gal yere, massa,' said the latter, looking as proud
as a hen over her first brood of chickens. 'She glad to see 'ou, massa.'

I gave Rosey my hand, and made a few good-natured compliments on her
beauty and her tidy appearance. She had a simple, guileless expression,
and met my half-bantering remarks with an innocent frankness that
charmed me. She was only sixteen, but had developed into a beautiful
woman. Her form was slight and graceful, with just enough _embonpoint_
to give the appearance of full health; and her thin, delicate features,
large, wide-set eyes, and clear, rosy complexion bore a strong
resemblance to Selma's. It was evident they were children of the same
father; and yet, one was to be the wife of a poor negro, the other to
marry the son of a 'merchant prince.'

As the dancing concluded, Boss Joe's fiddle gave out a dying scream,
and, turning to me, he sang out:

'War dar eber sprightlier nigs dan dese, massa Kirke? Don't dey beat
you' country folks all holler?'

'Yes, they do, Joe. They handle their heels as nimbly as elephants.'

I spoke the truth; most of them did.

The distribution of the presents was resumed; and, as each negro
received his full supply of flour, sugar, tea, coffee, molasses,
tobacco, and calico, grinning with joy over his new acquisitions, he
staggered off to his quarters. When the last box was nearly emptied,
with young Preston and Frank, I adjourned to the mansion.

The exterior of the 'great house' was unchanged, but its interior had
undergone a complete transformation. The plain oak flooring of the hall
had been replaced by porcelain tiling, and the neat, simple furniture of
the parlors by huge mirrors; rosewood and brocatelle sofas and lounges;