Mr. — to be remitted to me in Virginia. As the Pen is in my Hand, I will give you an Account of a Diversion we had some Nights ago, it was an Indian Dancing, which I cannot call a Ball, though it was a Kind of Masquerade, the Habits being very antick; but this as every Thing in this Country is, was in the Stile of the Horrible; the Sal de Ball was covered with the Canopy of Heaven, and adorned with the twinkling Stars, a large Space of Grass was mark'd out for the Dancing-Place, round which we the Spectators stood, as at a Cricket-match in England, in the Centre of it was two Fires, at a small Distance from each other, which were designed as an Illumination to make the Dancers visible; near the Fires was seated the Musick, which were a number of Men and Women, with a Kind of Timbrels or small Kettle-Drums, made of real brass Kettles, covered with Deer Skins made like Parchment by the Indians, and these they beat, and keep good Time, although their Tunes are terrible and savage; they also sing much in the same Stile, creating Terror, Fear, and all dreadful Passions, but no pleasing ones.
