University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

I saw Anne Mordaunt several times, either in the street
or in her own house, between that evening and the day I
was to dine with her father. The morning of the last
named day Mr. Bulstrode favoured me with a call, and announced
that he was to be of the party in Crown Street,
and that the whole company was to repair to the theatre, to
see his own Cato and Scrub, in the evening.

“By giving yourself the trouble to call at the Crown and
Bible, kept hard-by here, in Hanover Square or Queen Street,
by honest Hugh Gaine, you will find a package of tickets
for yourself, Mr. and Mrs. Legge, and your relative Mr.
Dirck Follock, as I believe the gentleman is called. These
Dutch have extraordinary patronymics, you must admit,
Littlepage.”

“It may appear so to an Englishman, though our names
are quite as odd to strangers. But Dirck Van Valkenburgh
is not a kinsman of mine, though he is related to the
Mordaunts, your relatives.”

“Well, it 's all the same! I knew he was related to
somebody that I know, and I fancied it was to yourself. I
am sure I never see him but I wish he was in our grenadier
company.”

“Dirck would do honour to any corps, but you know

how it is with the Dutch families, Mr. Bulstrode. They
still retain much of their attachment to Holland, and do not
as often take service in the army, or navy, as we of English
descent.”

“I should have thought a century might have cooled
them off, a little, from their veneration of the meadows of
Holland. It is the opinion at home, that New York is a
particularly well affected colony.”

“So it is, as I hear from all sides. As respects the
Dutch, among ourselves, I have heard my grandfather say,
that the reign of King William had a powerful influence in
reconciling them to the new government, but, since his day,
that they are less loyal than formerly. The Van Valkenburghs,
notwithstanding, pass for as good subjects as any
that the house of Hanover possesses. On no account would
I injure them in your opinion.”

“Good or bad, we shall hope to see your friend, who is
a connection in some way, as you believe, of the Mordaunts.
You will get but a faint idea of what one of the
royal theatres is, Littlepage, by this representation of ours,
though it may serve to kill time. But, I must go to rehearsal;
we shall meet at three.”

Here my gay and gallant major made his bow, and took
his leave. I proceeded on to the sign of the Crown and the
Bible, where I found a large collection of people, coming
in quest of tickets. As the élite of the town would not of
themselves form an audience sufficiently large to meet the
towering ambition of the players, more than half the tickets
were sold, the money being appropriated to the sick families
of soldiers—those who were not entitled to receive aid from
government. It was deemed a high compliment to receive
tickets gratis, though all who did, made it a point to leave
a donation to the fund, with Mr. Gaine. Receiving my
package, I quitted the shop, and it being the hour for the
morning promenade, I went up Wall Street, to the Mall, as
Trinity Church Walk was even then called. Here, I expected
to meet Dirck, and hoped to see Anneke, for the
place was much frequented by the young and gay, both in
the mornings and in the evenings. The bands of different
regiments were stationed in the churchyard, and the company
was often treated to much fine martial music. Some

few of the more scrupulous objected to this desecration of
the churchyard, but the army had everything pretty much
in its own way. As they were supposed to do nothing but
what was approved of at home, the dissenters were little
heeded, nor do I think the army would have greatly cared,
had they been more numerous.

I dare say there were fifty young ladies promenading the
church-walk when I reached it, and nearly as many young
men in attendance on them; no small portion of the last
being scarlet-coats, though the mohairs had their representatives
there too. A few blue-jackets were among us also,
there being two or three king's cruisers in port. As no one
presumed to promenade the Mall, who was not of a certain
stamp of respectability, the company was all gaily dressed;
and I will confess that I was much struck with the air of
the place, the first time I showed myself among the gay
idlers. The impression made on me that morning was so
vivid, that I will endeavour to describe the scene, as it now
presents itself to my mind.

In the first place, there was the noble street, quite eighty
feet in width in its narrowest part, and gradually expanding
as you looked towards the bay, until it opened into an area
of more than twice that width, at the place called the Bowling-Green.[1]
Then came the Fort, crowning a sharp eminence,
and overlooking everything in that quarter of the
town. In the rear of the Fort, or in its front, taking a water
view, lay the batteries that had been built on the rocks
which form the south-western termination of the island.
Over these rocks, which were black and picturesque, and
over the batteries they supported, was obtained a view of
the noble bay, dotted here and there with some speck of a
sail, or possibly with some vessel anchored on its placid
bosom. Of the two rows of elegant houses, most of them
of brick, and with very few exceptions principally of two

stories in height, it is scarcely necessary to speak, as there
are few who have not heard of, and formed some notion of
Broadway; a street that all agree is one day to be the pride
of the western world.

In the other direction, I will admit that the view was not
so remarkable, the houses being principally of wood, and
of a somewhat ignoble appearance. Nevertheless the army
was said to frequent those habitations quite as much as they
did any other in the place. After reaching the Common, or
present Park, where the great Boston road led off into the
country, the view was just the reverse of that which was
seen in the opposite quarter. Here, all was inland, and
rural. It is true, the new Bridewell had been erected in
that quarter, and there was also a new gaol, both facing the
common; and the king's troops had barracks in their rear;
but high, abrupt, conical hills, with low marshy land, orchards
and meadows, gave to all that portion of the island
a peculiarly novel and somewhat picturesque character.
Many of the hills in that quarter, and indeed all over the
widest part of the island, are now surmounted by country-houses,
as some were then, including Petersfield, the ancient
abode of the Stuyvesants, or that farm which, by being
called after the old Dutch governor's retreat, has given the
name of Bowery, or Bouerie, to the road that led to it; as
well as the Bowery-house, as it was called, the country
abode of the then Lieutenant Governor, James de Lancey;
Mount Bayard, a place belonging to that respectable family;
Mount Pitt, another that was the property of Mrs. Jones,
the wife of Mr. Justice Jones, a daughter of James de Lancey,
and various other mounts, houses, hills, and places,
that are familiar to the gentry and people of New York.

But, the reader can imagine for himself the effect produced
by such a street as Broadway, reaching very nearly
half a mile in length, terminating at one end, in an elevated,
commanding Fort, with its back-ground of batteries,
rocks and bay, and, at the other, with the common, on
which troops were now constantly parading, the Bridewell
and gaol, and the novel scene I have just mentioned. Nor
is Trinity itself to be forgotten. This edifice, one of the
noblest, if not the most noble of its kind, in all the colonies,
with its gothic architecture, statues in carved stone, and

flanking walls, was a close accessory of the view, giving to
the whole grandeur, and a moral.[2]

As has been said, I found the Mall crowded with young
persons of fashion and respectability. This Mall was near
a hundred yards in length; and it follows that there must
have been a goodly show of youth and beauty. The fine
weather had commenced; spring had fairly opened; Pinkster
Blossoms (the wild honeysuckle) had been seen in
abundance throughout the week; and everything and person
appeared gay and happy.

I could discover that my person in this crowd attracted
attention as a stranger. I say as a stranger; for I am unwilling
to betray so much vanity as to ascribe the manner
in which many eyes followed me, to any vain notion that I
was known or admired. Still, I will not so far disparage
the gifts of a bountiful Providence, as to leave the impression
that my face, person, or air was particularly disagreeable.
This would not be the fact; and I have now reached
a time of life when something like the truth may be told,
without the imputation of conceit. My mother often boasted
to her intimates, “that Corny was one of the best-made,
handsomest, most active, and genteelest youths in the colony.”
This I know, for such things will leak out; but
mothers are known to have a remarkable weakness on the
subject of their children. As I was the sole surviving offspring
of my dear mother, who was one of the best-hearted
women that ever breathed, it is highly probable that the
notions she entertained of her son partook largely of the
love she bore me. It is true, my aunt Legge, on more than
one occasion, has been heard to express a very similar
opinion; though nothing can be more natural than that
sisters should think alike, on a family matter of this particular
nature, more especially as my aunt Legge never had
a child of her own to love and praise.

Let all this be as it may, well stared at was I, as I mingled
among the idlers on Trinity Church Walk, on the

occasion named. As for myself, my own eyes were bent
anxiously on the face of every pretty, delicate young creature
that passed, in the hope of seeing Anneke. I both
wished and dreaded to meet her; for, to own the truth, my
mind was dwelling on her beauty, her conversation, her
sentiments, her grace, her gentleness, and withal her spirit,
a good deal more than half the time. I had some qualms
on the subject of Dirck, I will confess; but Dirck was so
young, that his feelings could not be much interested, after
all; and then Anneke was a second cousin, and that was
clearly too near to marry. My grandfather had always put
his foot down firmly against any connection between relations
that were nearer than third cousins; and I now saw
how proper were his reasons. If they were even farther
removed, so much the better, he said; and so much the
better it was.

If the reader should ask me why I dreaded to meet Anne
Mordaunt, under such circumstances, I might be at a loss to
give him a very intelligible answer. I feared even to see the
sweet face I sought; and oh! how soft, serene, and angellike
it was, at that budding age of seventeen!—but, though
I almost feared to see it, when at last I saw her I had so
anxiously sought, approaching me, arm and arm with Mary
Wallace, having Bulstrode next herself, and Harris next her
friend, my eyes were instantly averted, as if they had unexpectedly
lighted on something disagreeable. I should have
passed without even the compliment of a bow, had not my
friends been more at their ease, and more accustomed to the
free ways of town life than I happened to be myself.

“How's this, Cornelius, Cæur de Lion!” exclaimed Bulstrode,
stopping, thus causing the whole party to stop with
him, or to appear to wish to avoid me; “will you not recognise
us, though it is not an hour since you and I parted? I
hope you found the tickets; and when you have answered
`yes,' I hope you will turn and do me the honour to bow
to these ladies.”

I apologized, I am afraid I blushed; for I detected Anneke
looking at me, as I thought, with some little concern, as if
she pitied my awkward country embarrassment. As for
Bulstrode, I did not understand him at that time; it exceeding
my observation to be certain whether he considered me

of sufficient importance or not, to feel any concern on my
account, in his very obvious suit with Anneke. Nevertheless,
as he treated me with cordiality and respect, while he dealt
with me so frankly, there was not room to take offence.
Of course, I turned and walked back with the party, after
I had properly saluted the ladies and Mr. Harris.

“Cæur de Lion is a better name for a soldier than for a
civilian;” said Anneke, as we moved forward; “and, however
much Mr. Littlepage may deserve the title, I am not
certain, Mr. Bulstrode, he would not prefer leaving it among
you gentlemen who serve the king.”

“I am glad of this occasion, Mr. Littlepage, to enlist you
on my side, in a warfare I am compelled to wage with Miss
Anne Mordaunt,” said the Major gaily. “It is on the subject
of the great merit of us poor fellows who have crossed
the wide Atlantic in order to protect the colonies, New York
among the number, and their people, Miss Mordaunt and
Miss Wallace inclusively, from the grasp of their wicked
enemies, the French. The former young lady has a way
of reasoning on the matter to which I cannot assent, and I
am willing to choose you as arbitrator between us.”

“Before Mr. Littlepage accept the office, it is proper he
should know its duties and responsibilities,” said Anneke,
smiling. “In the first place, he will find Mr. Bulstrode,
with loud professions of attachment to the colonies, much
disposed to think them provinces that owe their very existence
to England; while I maintain it is Englishmen, and
that it is not England, that have done so much in America.
As for New York, Mr. Littlepage, and especially as for you
and me, we can also say a word in favour of Holland. I
am very proud of my Dutch connections and Dutch descent.”

I was much gratified with the “as for you and me;”
though I believe I cared less for Holland than she did herself.
I made an answer much in the vein of the moment;
but the conversation soon changed to the subject of the
military theatre that was about to open.

“I shall dread you as a critic, cousin Annie,” so Bulstrode
often termed Anneke, as I soon discovered; “I find you are
not too well disposed to us of the cockade, and I think you
have a particular spite to our regiment. I know that Billings
and Harris, too, hold you in the greatest possible dread.”

“They then feel apprehensive of a very ignorant critic;
for I never was present at a theatrical entertainment in my
life,” Anneke answered with perfect simplicity. “So far
as I can learn, there never has been but one season of any
regular company, in this colony; and that was when I was
a very little and a very young girl—as I am now neither
very large, nor very old as a young woman.”

“You see, Littlepage, with how much address my cousin
avoids adding, and `very uninteresting, and very ugly, and
very disagreeable, and very much unsought,' and fifty other
things she might add with such perfect truth and modesty!
But is it true, that the theatre was open only one season,
here?”

“So my father tells me, though I know very little of the
facts themselves. To-night will be my first appearance in
front of any stage, Mr. Bulstrode, as I understand it will be
your first appearance on it.”

“In one sense the last will be true, though not altogether
in another. As a school-boy, I have often played, school-boy
fashion; but this is quite a new thing with us, to be
amateur players.”

“It may seem ungrateful, when you are making so many
efforts, principally to amuse us young ladies, I feel convinced,
to inquire if it be quite as wise as it is novel. I must ask
this, as a cousin, you know, Henry Bulstrode, to escape
entirely from the imputation of impertinence.”

“Really, Anneke Mordaunt, I am not absolutely certain
that it is. Our manners are beginning to change in this
respect, however, and I can assure you that various noblemen
have permitted sports of this sort at their seats. The
custom is French, as you probably know, and whatever
is French has much vogue with us during times of peace.
Sir Harry does not altogether approve of it, and as for my
lady mother, she has actually dropped more than one discouraging
hint on the subject in her letters.”

“The certain proof that you are a most dutiful son.
Perhaps when Sir Harry and Lady Bulstrode learn your
great success, however, they will overlook the field on which
your laurels have been won. But our hour has come,
Mary; we have barely time to thank these gentlemen for
their politeness, and to return in season to dress. I am to

enact a part myself, at dinner, as I hope you will all remember.”

Saying this, Anneke made her curtsies in a way to preclude
any offer of seeing her home, and went her way with
her silent but sensible-looking and pretty friend. Bulstrode
took my arm with an air of easy superiority, and led the
way towards his own lodgings, which happened to be in
Duke Street. Harris joined another party, making it a
point to be always late at dinner.

“That is not only one of the handsomest, but she is one
of the most charming girls in the colonies, Littlepage!” my
companion exclaimed, as soon as we had departed, speaking
at the same time with an earnestness and feeling I was far
from expecting. “Were she in England, she would make
one of the first women in it, by the aid of a little fashion
and training; and very little would do too, for there is a
charm in her naiveté that is worth the art of fifty women
of fashion.”

“Fashion is a thing that any one may want who does
not happen to be in vogue,” I answered, notwithstanding
the great degree of surprise I felt. “As for training, I can
see nothing but perfection in Miss Mordaunt as she is, and
should deprecate the lessons that produced any change.”

I believe it was now Bulstrode's turn to feel surprise, for
I was conscious of his casting a keen look into my face,
though I did not like to return it. My companion was
silent for a minute; then, without again adverting to Anneke,
he began to converse very sensibly on the subject of theatres
and plays. I was both amused and instructed, for Mr.
Bulstrode was an educated and a clever man; and a strange
feeling came over the spirit of my dream, even then, as I
listened to his conversation. This man, I thought, admires
Anne Mordaunt, and he will probably carry her with him
to England, and obtain for her that fashion and training of
which he has just spoken. With his advantages of birth,
air, fortune, education, and military rank, he can scarcely
fail in his suit, should be seriously attempt one; and it will
be no more than prudent to command my own feelings, lest
I become the hopeless victim of a serious passion. Young
as I was, all this I saw, and thus I reasoned; and when I
parted from my companion I fancied myself a much wiser

man than when we had met. We separated in Duke
Street, with a promise on my part to call at the Major's
lodgings half an hour later, after dressing, and walk with
him to Herman Mordaunt's door.

“It is fortunate that it is the fashion of New York to
walk to a dinner party,” said Bulstrode, as he again took
my arm on our way to Crown Street; “for these narrow
streets must be excessively inconvenient for chariots, though
I occasionally see one of them. As for sedan chairs, I
detest them as things unfit for a man to ride in.”

“Many of our leading families keep carriages, and they
seem to get along well enough,” I answered. “Nevertheless,
it is quite in fashion even for ladies to walk. I understand
that many, perhaps most of your auditors, will walk
to the play-house door this evening.”

“They tell me as much,” said Bulstrode, curling his lip,
a little, in a way I did not exactly like. “Notwithstanding,
there will be many charming creatures among them, and they
shall be welcome. Well, Littlepage, I do not despair of
having you among us; for, to be candid, without wishing
to boast, I think you will find the —th as liberal a set of
young men as there is in the service. There is a wish to
have the mohairs among us instead of shutting ourselves up
altogether in scarlet. Then your father and grandfather
have both served, and that will be a famous introduction.”

I protested my unfitness for such an amusement, never
having seen such an exhibition in my life; but to this my
companion would not listen; and we picked our way, as well
as we could, through William Street, up Wall, and then by
Nassau into Crown; Herman Mordaunt owning a new
house, that stood not far from Braodway, in the latter street.
This was rather in a remote part of the town; but the situation
had the advantage of good air; and, as a place
extends, it is necessary some persons should live on its
skirts.

“I wish my good cousin did not live quite so much in the
suburbs,” said Bulstrode, as he knocked in a very patrician
manner; “it is not altogether convenient to go quite so
much out of one's ordinary haunts, in order to pay visits.
I wonder Mr. Mordaunt came so far out of the world, to
build.”

“Yet the distances of London must be much greater;
though there you have coaches.”

“True; but not a word more on this subject: I would
not have Anneke fancy I ever find it far to visit her.”

We were the last but one; the trady Mr. Harris making
it a point always to be the last. We found Anneke Mordaunt
supported by two or three ladies of her connection,
and a party of quite a dozen assembled. As most of those
present saw each other every day, and frequently two or
three times a day, the salutations and compliments were
soon over, and Herman Mordaunt began to look about him,
to see who was wanting.

“I believe everybody is here but Mr. Harris,” the father
observed to his daughter, interrupting some of Mr Bulstrode's
conversation, to let this fact be known. “Shall we wait for
him, my dear; he is usually so uncertain and late?”

“Yet a very important man,” put in Bulstrode, “as being
entitled to lead the lady of the house to the table, in virtue
of his birthright. So much for being the fourth son of an
Irish baron! Do you know Harris's father has just been
ennobled?”

This was news to the company; and it evidently much
increased the doubts of the propriety of sitting down without
the young man in question.

“Failing of this son of a new Irish baron, I suppose you
fancy I shall be obliged to give my hand to the eldest son
of an English baronet,” said Anneke, smiling, so as to take
off the edge of a little irony that I fancy just glimmered
in her manner.

“I wish to Heaven you would, Anne Mordaunt,” whispered
Bulstrode, loud enough for me to hear him, “so that
the heart were its companion!”

I thought this both bold and decided; and I looked anxiously
at Anneke, to note the effect; but she evidently received
it as trifling, certainly betraying no emotion at a speech
I thought so pointed. I wished she had manifested a little
resentment. Then she was so very young to be thus importuned!

“Dinner had better be served, sir,” she calmly observed
to her father. “Mr. Harris is apt to think himself ill-treated
if he do not find everybody at table. It would be a sign his

watch was wrong, and that he had come half an hour too
soon.”

Herman Mordaunt nodded assent, and left his daughter's
side to give the necessary order.

“I fancy Harris will regret this,” said Bulstrode. “I
wish I dared repeat what he had the temerity to say to me
on this very subject, no later than yesterday.”

“Of the propriety of so doing, Mr. Bulstrode must judge
for himself; though repetitions of this nature are usually
best avoided.”

“No, the fellow deserves it; so I will just tell you and
Mr. Littlepage in confidence. You must know, as his senior
in years, and his senior officer in the bargain, I was hinting
to Harris the inexpediency of always being so late at dinner;
and here is my gentleman's answer:—`You know,' said he,
`that excepting my lord Loudon, the Commander-in-chief,
the Governor, and a few public officers, I shall now take
precedence of almost every man here; and I find, if I go
early to dinner, I shall have to hand in all the elderly ladies,
and to take my place at their sides; whereas, if I go a little
late, I can steal in alongside of their daughters.' Now, on
the present occasion, he will be altogether a loser, the lady
of the house not yet being quite fifty.”

“I had not given Mr. Harris credit for so much ingenuity,”
said Anneke, quietly. “But here he is to claim his rights.”

“Ay, the fellow has remembered your age, and quite
likely your attractions!”

Dinner was announced at that instant, and all eyes were
turned on Harris, in expectation that he would advance to
lead Anneke down stairs. The young man, even more
youthful than myself, had a good deal of mauvaise honte;
for, though the son of an Irish peer, of two months' creation,
the family was not strictly Irish, and he had very little ambition
to figure in this manner. From what I saw of him
subsequently, I do believe that nothing but a sense of duty
to his order made him respect these privileges of rank at all,
and that he would really just as soon go to a dinner-table
last, as first. In the present case, however, he was soon
relieved by Herman Mordaunt; who had been educated at
home, and understood the usages of the world very well.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I must ask you to waive the

privileges of rank in favour of Mr. Cornelius Littlepage, to-day.
This good company has met to do honour especially
to his courage and devotion to his fellow-creatures, and he
will do me the favour to hand Miss Mordaunt down stairs.”

Herman Mordaunt then pointed out to the Hon. Mr.
Harris, the next lady of importance, and to Mr. Bulstrode
a third; after which all the rest took care of themselves.
As for myself, I felt my face in a glow, at this unexpected
order, and scarcely dared to look at Anneke as we led the
way to the dining-room door. So much abashed was I,
that I scarce touched the tips of her slender little fingers,
and a tremour was in the limb that performed this office, the
whole time it was thus employed. Of course, my seat was
next to that of the young and lovely mistress of the house,
at this banquet.

What shall I say of the dinner? It was the very first
entertainment of the sort at which I had ever been present;
though I had acquired some of the notions of town habits,
on such occasions, at my aunt Legge's table. To my surprise,
there was soup; a dish that I never saw at Satanstoe,
except in the most familiar way; while here it was taken by
every one, seemingly as a matter of course. Everything
was elegant, and admirably cooked. Abundance, however,
was the great feature of the feast; as I have heard it said,
is apt to be the case with most New York entertainments.
Nevertheless, I have always understood that, in the way of
eating and drinking, the American colonies have little reason
to be ashamed.

“Could I have foreseen this dinner, Miss Mordaunt,”
I said, when everybody was employed, and I thought there
was an opening to say something to my beautiful neighbour;
“it would have made my father very happy to have sent a
sheepshead to town, for the occasion.”

Anneke thanked me, and then we began to converse about
the game. Westchester was, and is still, famous for partridges,
snipe, quails, ducks, and meadow-larks; and I
understood expatiating on such a subject, as well as the best
of them. All the Littlepages were shots; and I have known
my father bag ten brace of woodcock, among the wet thickets
of Satanstoe, of a morning; and this with merely a second
class dog, and only one. Both Bulstrode and Harris listened

to what I said on this subject with great attention, and it
would soon have been the engrossing discourse, had not
Anneke pleasantly said—

“All very well, gentlemen; but you will remember that
neither Miss Wallace, nor I, shoot.”

“Except with the arrows of Cupid,” answered Bulstrode,
gaily; “with these you do so much execution between you,”
emphasizing the words, so as to make me look foolish, for I
sat between them, “that you ought to be condemned to hear
nothing but fowling conversation for the next year.”

This produced a laugh, a little at my expense, I believe;
though I could see that Anneke blushed, while Mary Wallace
smiled indifferently; but as the healths now began, there
was a truce to trifling. And a serious thing it is, to drink
to everybody by name, at a large table; serious I mean to
a new beginner. Yet, Herman Mordaunt went through it
with a grace and dignity, that I think would have been remarked
at a royal banquet. The ladies acquitted themselves
admirably, omitting no one; and even Harris felt the necessity
of being particular with this indispensable part of
good-breeding. So well done was this part of the ceremony,
that I declare, I believe everybody had drunk to everybody,
within five minutes after Herman Mordaunt commenced; and
it was very apparent that there was more ease and true
gaiety after all had got through, than there had previously
been.

But the happy period of every dinner-party, is after the
cloth is removed. With the dark polished mahogany for a
background, the sparkling decanters making their rounds, the
fruit and cake baskets, the very scene seems to inspire
one with a wish for gaiety. Herman Mordaunt called for
toasts, as soon as the cloth disappeared, with a view I believe
of putting everybody at ease, and to render the conversation
more general. He was desired to set the example,
and immediately gave “Miss Markham,” who, as I was
told, was a single lady of forty, with whom he had carried
on a little flirtation. Anneke's turn came next, and she
chose to give a sentiment, notwithstanding all Bulstrode's
remonstrances, who insisted on a gentleman. He did not
succeed, however; Anneke very steadily gave “The Thespian
corps of the —th; may it prove as successful in the

arts of peace, as in its military character it has often proved
itself to be in the art of war.” Much applause followed
this toast, and Harris was persuaded by Bulstrode to stand
up, and say a few words, for the credit of the regiment.
Such a speech!—It reminded me of the horse that was advertised
as a show, in London, about this time, and which
was said `to have its tail where its head ought to be.' But,
Bulstrode clapped his hands, and cried `hear,' at every other
word, protesting that the regiment was honoured as much
in the thanks, as in the sentiment. Harris did not seem
displeased with his own effort, and, presuming on his rank,
he drank, without being called on, “to the fair of New
York; eminent alike for beauty and wit, may they only
become as merciful as they are victorious.”

“Bravo!” again cried Bulstrode,—“Harris is fairly inspired,
and is growing better and better. Had he said imminent,
instead of eminent, it would be more accurate, as
their frowns are as threatening, as their smiles are bewitching.”

“Is that to pass for your sentiment, Mr. Bulstrode, and
are we to drink it?” demanded Herman Mordaunt.

“By no means, sir; I have the honour to give Lady
Dolly Merton.”

Who Lady Dolly was, nobody knew, I believe, though
we of the colonies always drank a titled person, who was
known to be at home, with a great deal of respectful attention,
not to say veneration. Other toasts followed, and
then the ladies were asked to sing. Anneke complied,
with very little urging, as became her position, and never
did I hear sweeter strains than those she poured forth! The
air was simple, but melody itself, and the sentiment had
just enough of the engrossing feeling of woman in it, to
render it interesting, without in the slightest degree impairing
its fitness for the virgin lips from which it issued. Bulstrode,
I could see, was almost entranced; and I heard him
murmur “an angel, by Heavens!” He sang, himself, a
love song, full of delicacy and feeling, and in a way to show
that he had paid much attention to the art of music. Harris
sang, too, as did Mary Wallace; the former, much as he
spoke; the last plaintively, and decidedly well. Even Herman
Mordaunt gave us a strain, and my turn followed.

Singing was somewhat of a forte with me, and I have reason
to think I made out quite as well as the best of them.
I know that Anneke seemed pleased, and I saw tears in her
eyes, as I concluded a song that was intended to produce
just such an effect.

At length the youthful mistress of the house arose, reminding
her father that he had at table the principal performer
of the evening, by way of a caution, when three or
four of us handed the ladies to the drawing-room door. Instead
of returning to the table, I entered the room, and Bulstrode
did the same, under the plea of its being necessary
for him to drink no more, on account of the work before
him.