“My father had seen many a frolic, but never such a one as that; and, what was remarkable, the dance seemed constantly to increase in quickness and merriment. The top of the table looked like the jolly face of a Dutchman, the mouth stretched wide, and the eyes goggling with laughter. The old chair seemed to nod and wink with elvish mirth; and the maiden, who all the time appeared to have a queer resemblance to a bottle, frisked and flirted the gayest of the party. On went the dance, until my father was entirely out of breath; but there was no cessation to the sport. There seemed to be an old fiddler standing in one corner, but nothing save two eyes and his elbow were distinctly visible. The latter flew more rapidly every moment, the music quickened; and the dancers kept time. For seven hours my father performed his part in the dance, until, at last, he reeled, and, falling forward, knocked the table, the chair, and the bottle all into a heap. The vision immediately vanished, and soon after there was a rapping at the door. The people had come over to the island, for it was now morning. They found my father in a swoon, lying across the table, the chair crushed, and the bottle broken in a hundred fragments, which lay scattered on the floor.” “A strange story that,” says Matthew, as the Dutchman paused; “but I wish to ask one question. Was there any liquor upon the floor where the bottle was broken?” “Not a drop,” said the Dutchman; “and that’s a good proof that old Nick himself was there to drink the liquor.” “No, no,” said Matthew, significantly; “it only proves that your father kissed Miss Bottle a little too often; so he got drunk and had the nightmare, and all this scene was a vision of his brain! This proves that your father could drink two quarts of brandy in a single night. I had an uncle who performed a greater feat than that in the revolutionary war, for he captured a British officer with a sausage!” “Indeed!” said the captain and the fur-trader both at once; “let us hear the story.” “Well,” said Matthew; “it happened thus. At one time during the war, as you all know, Washington was situated with his little army at Tappan, near the North river, while Sir Harry Clinton, the British commander, with his troops, were at New York. The space between the two armies was called the Neutral Ground, and it was chiefly occupied by a set of people called Cow-boys. These fellows went back and forth, trading with both parties, and cheating everybody, as they could get a chance.