St. Michael’s was a church: a shabby looking structure on the east bank of the large stream formed by the two smaller ones. On the night of the ball, it was pompously illuminated by a number of tallow dips that peeped uneasily forth from every nook and corner. The dilapidated wooden shutters had been drawn to and fastened with pieces of heavy twine, to keep out the gusty blasts. In the centre was a small stove, which was filled with pine knots till it gave out the necessary degree of heat. The crude benches, on either side of the common aisle, were gathered into a large heap beside the door, to make room for the pedal antics. The most striking feature was the old pulpit. It consisted of a low platform, shut in across the front and half way back on either side by a rough framework of boards. Each projecting corner looked toward a vendor’s stand, laden with the influences which make “A fool and his money” soon part. The form of entertainment which the negroes call a ball is rather a comprehensive institution. It may be given on the slightest provocation, and under any auspices whatever, public or private. Ostensibly, the enjoyment consists in dancing to the music of a scratchy fiddle. Really, the interested parties bring together as many of their friends as possible for the purpose of disposing to them of cheap nicknacks and third-class refreshments at a profit of three or four hundred per cent. By eight o’clock on the Christmas eve in question, St. Michael’s was full to overflowing. The din of loud talking and yelling was deafening. The voice of Sim Sprigs, the manager, could be heard above that of any one else, exhorting the young bloods to “furmember” their sweethearts, and “treat ’um often.” The idea of treating was of primary importance to the success of the entertainment. It meant that the boys were to lavish their last cent on the girls. In fact, the prompting in the dance was equipped with a special figure for such occasions,—“Promenade to de bar.” The cry of “treat me” could everywhere be heard in powerful soprano tones. If a girl met a boy she knew she invariably asked him to treat her. When a boy asked a girl to dance, she usually answered, “Yup, uf you’ll treat me fust,” frequently stipulating the amount of the investment. “Rem” and Judy arrived a little late. The first dance was already in progress. Every one naturally glanced up to see who had entered. The newcomers shook off their slight embarrassment by at once joining in the waltz. Very soon they were as much a part of the crowd as any other couple in the house. [Illustration: Man and woman on bench]