cellars were well crowded for the winter, making the master of an
establishment quite indifferent to all questions of finance. We heard
nothing in those days of greenbacks, silver coinage, or a gold basis.
Laden with vegetables, butter, eggs, and a magnificent turkey, Peter and
his followers returned to the kitchen. There, seated on a big ironing
table, we watched the dressing and roasting of the bird in a tin oven in
front of the fire. Jacob peeled the vegetables, we all sang, and Peter
told us marvelous stories. For tea he made flapjacks, baked in a pan
with a long handle, which he turned by throwing the cake up and
skillfully catching it descending.

Peter was a devout Episcopalian and took great pleasure in helping the
young people decorate the church. He would take us with him and show us
how to make evergreen wreaths. Like Mary's lamb, where'er he went we
were sure to go. His love for us was unbounded and fully returned. He
was the only being, visible or invisible, of whom we had no fear. We
would go to divine service with Peter, Christmas morning and sit with
him by the door, in what was called "the negro pew." He was the only
colored member of the church and, after all the other communicants had
taken the sacrament, he went alone to the altar. Dressed in a new suit
of blue with gilt buttons, he looked like a prince, as, with head erect,
he walked up the aisle, the grandest specimen of manhood in the whole
congregation; and yet so strong was prejudice against color in 1823 that
no one would kneel beside him. On leaving us, on one of these occasions,
Peter told us all to sit still until he returned; but, no sooner had he
started, than the youngest of us slowly followed after him and seated
herself close beside him. As he came back, holding the child by the
hand, what a lesson it must have been to that prejudiced congregation!
The first time we entered the church together the sexton opened a white
man's pew for us, telling Peter to leave the Judge's children there.