Charley, with all his supposed aversion to the fair sex, was ready, at any time, to play all night to the dancing of a party of girls, and the young people were much chagrined at the accident to his finger. True, Herr Waldteufel had offered his services at the piano; but they wanted a fiddler on Christmas Eve; and the question was raised whether one could not be found among the negroes. But it turned out that a “revival” had recently swept over the county, and both my grandfather’s fiddlers had “got religion.” One of them had, in fact, already begun to preach; and, in his first sermon, had taken high conservative ground as to the future state of such as drew the bow and repented not. So, as the tyro to whom the new parson had sold his instrument was not yet up to the mark, it seemed certain that we would have to trip it to the less inspiring strains of the piano. “I vill blay for de yoong beebles till daylight doaf abbear,” quoth the Herr, who was very near the mammoth bowl of apple-toddy. But just as this thorough-going proposal fell from the Professor’s well-moistened lips, there was heard the clattering of hoofs on the frozen ground. There was a stir among the darkies, around and in the door-way, and on the steps of the Hall; for, as was the custom in the olden days, whenever there was any conviviality going forward in the “Great-House,” the negroes had crowded about all the doors and windows whence a glimpse of the festivities was to be had; for they knew very well there was “mo’ toddy in dat d’yar big bowl dan de white folks gwine ’stroy, let alone de eggnog.” I hasten to remark that this mysterious cavalier, so darkly galloping through night and frost, was none other than Mr. William Jones,—Billy for short,—the young fellow of whom we have heard before, and who was, at this time, a student at the University. A dozen sable youngsters seized his reins, ambitious of the honor of riding his horse to the stable; and as he dismounted and approached the densely-packed steps, he was assailed by a chorus of joyous, friendly voices. “Dat you, Marse Billy? Lord ’a’ mussy, how de chile done growed, to-be-sho! Jess like he pa, too!” The light was streaming upon his cheery, manly face. “Why, how do you do, Aunt Polly?” “I ’clare ’fo’ Gaud de chile know me, and in de dark, too!” And Aunt Polly doubled herself up and chuckled blissfully. “Know you! why, it was only last October that I went off to the University!” “Dat so, Marse Billy. How we old people does forgit, to-be-sho!”