The solemn ceremony, which was very impressively performed by Mr. McGregor, being over and the cake cut and distributed, arrangements were made by the master-of-ceremonies, Mr. Wendell, for the ball. The door being thrown open, the company were ushered into the dancing-room, brilliantly lighted up for the occasion. After a short pause, Mr. Wendell called upon the governor to lead out the bride for the opening minuet, which was danced in a very gubernatorial and bridal manner. The bridegroom and Madam Brinley followed, and then Judge Wentworth of Boston and Madam Fayerweather, who was still celebrated for her minuet. Her husband never danced, and Mr. Wendell then called out Captain Fayerweather and Miss Stimpson, though scarcely expecting that Judith would be prevailed upon to dance. To his surprise, after a little hesitation, with a smile and a blush, she rose, and as her partner led her to the head of the room, an involuntary murmur of admiration ran round the assembly—for never had a pair appeared of more singular beauty. They stood side by side, while the accustomed prelude was played, the blue and white of his habit, contrasting beautifully with the color of hers, as did his stately figure with hers of bird-like lightness; she extended her dress to its greatest width in her delicate fingers; she cast a timid glance around the room, he one of manly greeting, her little foot slid to the right, and she made a low and graceful courtsey, while his tall figure was bending to the floor in perfect time to the measure, in this salute to the company. Then rising slowly, they stood for a moment with one foot in advance, awaiting the proper signal from the music, when they turned, and he, with sparkling eyes, and she, with the delicate bloom on her cheek heightened to a rose, made a like lowly reverence to each other. Then, as the pair became animated with the music, and they floated round the room, now advancing now receding, in their magic evolutions crossing and re-crossing, their graceful forms rising and falling in measured waves to the time—all their attitudes, and all their motions of elegance and delicacy combined; they might have seemed some fair beings of another sphere, weaving a mystic spell to drive afar all sorrow. This was the old-fashioned minuet. How has its place been supplied in the ball-room, by the waltz and its varieties, the mazurka, the polka, etc. What were Judith’s father and mother doing all the while? Entirely forgetting the rest of the company, and following their daughter with their eyes, Captain Stimpson, with his lips firmly compressed, moved his head from side to side in time to the music, or rather with involuntary imitation of Judith’s motions. “Did you ever! Mr. Stimpson,” said his wife, in an irrepressible ecstasy, as Judith slowly glided through a peculiarly beautiful part of the figure. “I sartainly never did,” said the captain, drawing in a very long breath.