CHAPTER IX.

  “I question'd Love, whose early ray
  So heavenly bright appears;
  And love, in answer, seem'd to say,
  His light was dimm'd by tears.”

  HEBER.

It was not long after the explanation occurred, as respects Jason, and the invitation was given to include him in our party, before Herman Mordaunt opened a gate, and led the way into the fields. A very tolerable road conducted us through some woods, to the heights, and we soon found ourselves on an eminence, that overlooked a long reach of the Hudson, extending from Haverstraw, to the north, as far as Staten Island, to the south; a distance of near forty miles. On the opposite shore, rose the wall-like barrier of the Palisadoes, lifting the table-land, on their summits, to an elevation of several hundred feet. The noble river, itself, fully three-quarters of a mile in width, was unruffled by a breath of air, lying in one single, extended, placid sheet, under the rays of a bright sun, resembling molten silver. I scarce remember a lovelier morning; everything appearing to harmonize with the glorious but tranquil grandeur of the view, and the rich promises of a bountiful nature. The trees were mostly covered with the beautiful clothing of a young verdure; the birds had mated, and were building in nearly every tree; the wild-flowers started up beneath the hoofs of our horses; and every object, far and near, seemed, to my young eyes, to be attuned to harmony and love.

“This is a favourite ride of mine, in which Anneke often accompanies me,” said Herman Mordaunt, as we gained the commanding eminence I have mentioned. “My daughter is a spirited horse-woman, and is often my companion in these morning rides. She and Mary Wallace should be somewhere on the hills, at this moment, for they promised to follow me, as soon as they could dress for the saddle.”

A cry of something like wild delight burst out of Dirck, and the next moment he was galloping away for an adjoining ridge, on the top of which the beautiful forms of the two girls were just then visible; embellished by neatly-fitting habits, and beavers with drooping feathers. I pointed out these charming objects to Herman Mordaunt, and followed my friend, at half-speed. In a minute or two the parties had joined.

Never had I seen Anneke Mordaunt so perfectly lovely, as she appeared that morning. The exercise and air had deepened a bloom that was always rich; and her eyes received new lustre from the glow on her cheeks. Though expected, I thought she received us as particularly acceptable guests; while Mary Wallace manifested more than an usual degree of animation, in her reception. Jason was not forgotten, but was acknowledged as an old acquaintance, and was properly introduced to the friend.

“You frequently take these rides, Mr. Mordaunt tells me,” I said, reining my horse to the side of that of Anneke's, as the whole party moved on; “and I regret that Satanstoe is so distant, as to prevent our oftener meeting of a morning. We have many noted horse-women, in Westchester, who would be proud of such an acquisition.”

“I know several ladies, on your side of Harlem river” Anneke answered, “and frequently ride in their company; but none so distant as any in your immediate neighbourhood. My father tells me, he used often to shoot over the fields of Satanstoe, when a youth; and still speaks of your birds with great affection.”

“I believe our fathers were once brother-sportsmen. Mr. Bulstrode has promised to come and imitate their good example. Now you have had time to reflect on the plays you have seen, do you still feel the same interest in such representations as at first?”

“I only wish there was not so much to condemn. I think Mr. Bulstrode might have reached eminence as a player, had not fortune put it, in one sense, beyond his reach, as an elder son, and a man of family.”

“Mr. Bulstrode, they tell me, is not only the heir of an old baronetcy, but of a large fortune?”

“Such are the facts, I believe. Do you not think it creditable to him, Mr. Littlepage, that one so situated, should come so far to serve his king and country, in a rude war like this of our colonies?”

I was obliged to assent, though I heartily wished that Anneke's manner had been less animated and sincere, as she put the question. Still, I hardly knew what to think of her feelings towards that gentleman; for, otherwise, she always heard him named with a calmness and self-possession that I had observed was not shared by all her young companions, when there was occasion to allude to the gay and insinuating soldier. I need scarcely say, it was no disadvantage to Mr. Bulstrode to be the heir of a baronetcy, in an English colony. Somehow or other, we are a little apt to magnify such accidental superiority, at a distance from home; and I have heard Englishmen, themselves, acknowledge that a baronet was a greater man, in New York, than a duke was in London. These were things, that passed through my mind, as I rode along at Anneke's side; though I had the discretion not to give utterance of my thoughts.

“Herman Mordaunt rode in advance, with Jason; and he led the party, by pretty bridle-paths, along the heights for nearly two miles, occasionally opening a gate, without dismounting, until he reached a point that overlooked Lilacsbush, which was soon seen, distant from us less than half a mile.

“Here we are, on my own domain,” he said, as he pulled up to let us join him; “that last gate separating me from my nearest neighbour south. These hills are of no great use, except as early pastures, though they afford many beautiful views.”

“I have heard it predicted,” I remarked, “that the time would come, some day, when the banks of the Hudson would contain many such seats as that of the Philipses, at Yonkers, and one or two more like it, that I am told are now standing above the Highlands.”

“Quite possibly; it is not easy to foretell what may come to pass in such a country. I dare say, that in time, both towns and seats will be seen on the banks of the Hudson, and a powerful and numerous nobility to occupy the last. By the way, Mr. Littlepage, your father and my friend Col. Follock have been making a valuable acquisition in lands, I hear; having obtained a patent for an extensive estate, somewhere in the neighbourhood of Albany?”

“It is not so very extensive, sir, there being only some forty thousand acres of it, altogether; nor is it very near Albany, by what I can learn, since it must lie at a distance of some forty miles, or more, from that town. Next winter, however, Dirck and myself are to go in search of the land, when we shall learn all about it.”

“Then we may meet in that quarter of the country. I have affairs of importance at Albany, which have been too long neglected; and it has been my intention to pass some months at the north, next season; and early in the season, too. We may possibly meet in the woods.”

“You have been at Albany, I suppose, Mr. Mordaunt?”

“Quite often, sir; the distance is so great, that one has not much inducement to go there, unless carried by affairs, however, as has been my case. I was at Albany before my marriage, and have had various occasions to visit it since.”

“My father was there, when a soldier; and he tells me it is a part of the province well worth seeing. At all events, I shall encounter the risk and fatigue next season; for it is useful to young persons to see the world. Dirck and myself may make the campaign, should there be one in that direction.”

I fancied Anneke manifested some interest in this conversation; but we rode on, and soon alighted at the door of Lilacsbush. Bulstrode was not in the way, and I had the supreme pleasure of helping Miss Mordaunt to alight, when we paused a moment before entering the house, to examine the view. I have given the reader some idea of the general appearance of the place; but it was necessary to approach it, in order to form a just conception of its beauties. As its name indicated, the lawn, house, and out-buildings were all garnished or buried in lilacs, the whole of which were then in full blossom. The flowers filled the air with a species of purple light, that cast a warm and soft radiance even on the glowing face of Anneke, as she pointed out to me the magical effect. I know no flower that does so much to embellish a place, as the lilac, on a large scale, common as it is, and familiar as we have become with its hues and its fragrance.

“We enjoy the month our lilacs are out, beyond any month in the year,” said Anneke, smiling at my surprise and delight; “and we make it a point to pass most of it here. You will at least own, Mr. Littlepage, that Lilacsbush is properly named.”

“The effect is more like enchantment than anything else!” I cried. “I did not know that the simple, modest lilac could render anything so very beautiful!”

“Simplicity and modesty are such charms in themselves, sir, as to be potent allies,” observed the sensible but taciturn Mary Wallace.

To this I assented, of course, and we all followed Mr. Mordaunt into the house. I was as much delighted with the appearance of things in the interior of Lilacsbush, as I had been with the exterior. Everywhere, it seemed to me, I met with the signs of Anneke's taste and skill. I do not wish the reader to suppose that the residence itself was of the very first character and class, for this it could not lay claim to be. Still, it was one of those staid, story-and-a-half dwellings, in which most of our first families were, and are content to dwell, in the country; very much resembling the good old habitation at Satanstoe in these particulars. The furniture, however, was of a higher town-finish than we found it necessary to use; and the little parlour in which we breakfasted was a model for an eating-room. The buffets in the corners were so well polished that one might see his face in them; the cellarets were ornamented with plated hinges, locks, etc., and the table itself shone like a mirror. I know not how it was, but the china appeared to me richer and neater than common under Anneke's pretty little hand; while the massive and highly-finished plate of the breakfast service, was such as could be wrought only in England. In a word, while everything appeared rich and respectable, there was a certain indescribable air of comfort, gentility, and neatness about the whole, that impressed me in an unusual manner.

“Mr. Littlepage tells me, Anneke,” observed Herman Mordaunt, while we were at breakfast, “that he intends to make a journey to the north, next winter, and it may be our good fortune to meet him there. The ——th expects to be ordered up as high as Albany, this summer; and we may all renew our songs and jests, with Bulstrode and his gay companions, among the Dutchmen.”

I was charmed with this prospect of meeting Anneke Mordaunt at the north, and took occasion to say as much; though I was afraid it was in an awkward and confused manner.

“I heard as much as this, sir, while we were riding,” answered the daughter. “I hope cousin Dirck is to be of the party?”

Cousin Dirck assured her he was, and we discussed in anticipation the pleasure it must give to old acquaintances to meet so far from home. Not one of us, Herman Mordaunt excepted, had ever been one hundred miles from his or her birth-place, as was ascertained on comparing notes. I was the greatest traveller; Princeton lying between eighty and ninety miles from Satanstoe, as the road goes.

“Perhaps I come nearer to it than any of you,” put in Jason, “for my late journey on the island must have carried me nearly that far from Danbury. But, ladies, I can assure you, a traveller has many opportunities for learning useful things, as I know by the difference there is between York and Connecticut.”

“And which do you prefer, Mr. Newcome?” asked Anneke, with a somewhat comical expression about her laughing eyes.

“That is hardly a fair question, Miss;” no reproof could break Jason of this vulgarism, “since it might make enemies for a body to speak all of his mind in such matters. There are comparisons that should never be made, on account of circumstances that overrule all common efforts. New York is a great colony—a very great colony, Miss; but it was once Dutch, as everybody knows, begging Mr. Follock's pardon; and it must be confessed Connecticut has, from the first, enjoyed almost unheard-of advantages, in the moral and religious character of her people, the excellence of her lands, and the purity”—Jason called this word “poority;” but that did not alter the sentiment—though I must say, once for all, it is out of my power to spell every word as this man saw fit to pronounce it—“of her people and church.”

Herman Mordaunt looked up with surprise, at this speech; but Dirck and I had heard so many like it, that we saw nothing out of the way on this particular occasion. As for the ladies, they were too well-bred to glance at each other, as girls sometimes will; but I could see that each thought the speaker a very singular person.

“You find, then, a difference in customs between the two colonies, sir?” said Herman Mordaunt.

“A vast difference truly, sir. Now there was a little thing happened about your daughter, 'Squire Mordaunt, the very first time I saw her”—the present was the second interview—“that could no more have happened in Connecticut, than the whole of the province could be put into that tea-cup.”

“To my daughter, Mr. Newcome!”

“Yes, sir, to your own daughter; Miss, that sits there looking as innocent as if it had never come to pass.”

“This is so extraordinary, sir, that I must beg an explanation.”

“You may well call it extr'ornary, for extr'ornary it would be called all over Connecticut; and I'll never give up that York, if this be a York usage, is or can be right in such a matter, at least.”

“I entreat you to be more explicit, Mr. Newcome.”

“Why, sir, you must know, Corny, here, and I, and Dirck there, went in to see the lion, about which no doubt you've heard so much, and Corny paid for Miss's ticket Well, that was all right enough, but——”

“Surely, Anneke, you have not forgotten to return to Mr. Littlepage the money!”

“Listen patiently, my dear sir, and you will get the whole story, my delinquencies and debts included, if any there are.”

“That's just what she did, Squire Mordaunt, and I maintain there is not the man in all Connecticut that would have taken it. If ladies can't be treated to sights, and other amusements, I should like to know who is to be so.”

Herman Mordaunt, at first, looked gravely at the speaker, but catching the expression of our eyes he answered with the tact of a perfectly well-bred man, as he certainly was, on all occasions that put him to the proof—

“You must overlook Miss Mordaunt's adhering to her own customs, Mr. Newcome, on account of her youth, and her little knowledge of any world but that immediately around her. When she has enjoyed an opportunity of visiting Danbury, no doubt she will improve by the occasion.”

“But, Corny, sir—think of Corny's falling into such a mistake!”

“As for Mr. Littlepage, I must suppose he labours under somewhat of the same disadvantage. We are less gallant here than you happen to be in Connecticut; hence our inferiority. At some future day, perhaps, when society shall have made a greater progress among us, our youths will come to see the impropriety of permitting the fair sex to pay for anything, even their own ribands. I have long known, sir, that you of New England claim to treat your women better than they are treated in any other portion of the inhabited world, and it must be owing to that circumstance hat they enjoy the advantage of being 'treated' for nothing.”

With this concession Jason was apparently content. How much of this provincial feeling, arising from provincial ignorance, have I seen since that time! It is certain that our fellow-subjects of the eastern provinces are not addicted to hiding their lights under bushels, but make the most of all their advantages. That they are superior to us of York, in some respects, I am willing enough to allow; but there are certainly points on which this superiority is far less apparent. As for Jason, he was entirely satisfied with the answer of Herman Mordaunt, and often alluded to the subject afterwards, to my prejudice, and with great self-complacency. To be sure, it is a hard lesson to beat into the head of the self-sufficient colonist, that his own little corner of the earth does not contain all that is right, and just, and good, and refined.

I left Lilacsbush, that day, deeply in love. I hold it to be unmanly to attempt to conceal it. Anneke had made a lively impression on me from the very first, but that impression had now gone deeper than the imagination, and had very sensibly touched the heart. Perhaps it was necessary to see her in the retirement of the purely domestic circle, to give all her charms their just ascendency. While in town, I had usually met her in crowds, surrounded by admirers or other young persons of her own sex, and there was less opportunity for viewing the influence of nature and the affections on her manner. With Mary Wallace at her side, however, there was always one on whom she could exhibit just enough of these feelings to bring out the loveliness of her nature without effort or affectation. Anne Mordaunt never spoke to her friend without a change appearing in her manner. Affection thrilled in the tones of her voice, confidence beamed in her eye, and esteem and respect were to be gathered from the expectation and deference that shone in her countenance. Mary Wallace was two years the oldest, and these years taken in connection with her character, entitled her to receive this tribute from her nearest associate; but all these feelings flowed spontaneously from the heart, for never was an intercourse between two of the sex more thoroughly free from acting.

It was a proof that passion was getting the mastery over me, that I now forgot Dirck, his obvious attachment, older claims, and possible success. I know not how it was, or why it was, but it was certain that Herman Mordaunt had a great regard for Dirck Van Valkenburgh. The affinity may have counted for something, and it was possible that the father was already weighing the advantages that might accrue from such a connection. Col. Follock had the reputation of being rich, as riches were then counted among us; and the young fellow himself, in addition to a fine manly figure, that was fast developing itself into the frame of a youthful Hercules, had an excellent temper, and a good reputation. Still, this idea never troubled me. Of Dirck I had no fears, while Bulstrode gave me great uneasiness, from the first. I saw all his advantages, may have even magnified them; while those of my near and immediate friend, gave me no trouble whatever. It is possible, had Dirck presented himself oftener, or more distinctly to my mind, a feeling of magnanimity might have induced me to withdraw in time, and leave him a field to which he had the earliest claim. But, after the morning at Lilacsbush, it was too late for any such sacrifice on my part; and I rode away from the house, at the side of my friend, as forgetful of his interest in Anneke, as if he had never felt any. Magnanimity and I had no further connection in relation to my pretensions to Anneke Mordaunt.

“Well,” commenced Jason, as soon as we were fairly in the saddle, “these Mordaunts are even a notch above your folks, Corny? There was more silver vessels in that room where we ate, than there is at this moment in all Danbury! The extravagance amounts to waste. The old gentleman must be desperate rich, Dirck?”

“Herman Mordaunt has a good estate, and very little of it has gone for plate, Jason; that which you saw is old, and came either from Holland, or England; one home, or the other.”

“Oh! Holland is no home for me, boy. Depend on it, all that plate is not put there for nothing. If the truth could be come at, this Herman Mordaunt, as you call him, though I do not see why you cannot call him 'Squire Mordaunt, like other folks, but this Mr. Mordaunt has some notion, I conclude, to get his daughter off on one of these rich English officers, of whom there happen to be so many in the province, just at this time. I never saw the gentleman, but there was one Bulstrode named pretty often this forenoon,”—Jason's morning always terminated at his usual breakfast hour,—“and I rather conclude he will turn out to be the chap, in the long run. Such is my calculation, and they don't often fail.”

I saw a quick, surprised start in Dirck; but I felt such a twinge myself, that there was little opportunity to inquires into the state of my friend's feelings, at this coarse, but unexpected remark.

“Have you any particular reason, Mr. Newcome, for; venturing such an opinion?” I asked, a little sternly.

“Come, don't let us, out here in the highway, begin to mister one another. You are Corny, Dirck is Dirck, and I am Jason. The shortest way is commonly the best way, and I like given-names among friends. Have I any particular reason?—Yes; plenty on 'em, and them that's good. In the first place, no man has a daughter,”—darter à la Jason,—“that he does not begin to think of setting her out in the world, accordin' to his abilities; then, as I said before, these folks from home” (hum) “are awful rich, and rich husbands are always satisfactory to parents, whatever they may be to children. Besides, some of these officers will fall heirs to titles, and that is a desperate temptation to a woman, all over the world. I hardly think there is a young woman in Danbury that could hold out agin' a real title.”

It has always struck me as singular, that the people of Jason's part of the provinces should entertain so much profound respect for titles. No portion of the world is of simpler habits, nor is it easier to find any civilized people among whom there is greater equality of actual condition, which, one would think, must necessarily induce equality of feeling, than in Connecticut, at this very moment. Notwithstanding these facts, the love of title is so great, that even that of serjeant is often prefixed to the name of a man on his tombstone, or in the announcement of his death or marriage; and as for the militia ensigns and lieutenants, there is no end to them. Deacon is an important title, which is rarely omitted; and wo betide the man who should forget to call a magistrate “esquire.” No such usages prevail among us; or, if they do, it is among that portion of the people of this colony which is derived from New England, and still retains some of its customs. Then, in no part of the colonies is English rank more deferred to, than in New England, generally, notwithstanding most of those colonies possess the right to elect nearly every officer they have among them. I allow that we of New York defer greatly to men of birth and rank from home, and it is right we should so do; but I do not think our deference is as great, or by any means as general, as it is in New England. It is possible the influence of the Dutch may have left an impression on our state of society, though I have been told that the colonies farther south exhibit very much the same characteristics as we do, ourselves, on this head. 16

We reached Satanstoe a little late, in consequence of the delay at Lilacsbush, and were welcomed with affection and warmth. My excellent mother was delighted to see me at home again, after so long an absence, and one which she did not think altogether without peril, when it was remembered that I had passed a whole fortnight amid the temptations and fascinations of the capital. I saw the tears in her eyes as she kissed me, again and again, and felt the gentle, warm embrace, as she pressed me to her bosom, in maternal thanksgiving.

Of course, I had to render an account of all I had seen and done, including Pinkster, the theatre, and the lion. I said nothing, however, of the Mordaunts, until questioned about them by my mother, quite a fortnight after Dirck had gone across to Rockland. One morning, as I sat endeavouring to write a sonnet in my own room, that excellent parent entered and took a seat near my table, with the familiarity the relation she bore me justified. She was knitting at the time, for never was she idle, except when asleep. I saw by the placid smile on her face, which, Heaven bless her! was still smooth and handsome, that something was on her mind, that was far from disagreeable; and I waited with some curiosity for the opening. That excellent mother! How completely did she live out of herself in all that had the most remote bearing on my future hopes and happiness!

“Finish your writing, my son,” commenced my mother, for I had instinctively striven to conceal the sonnet; “finish your writing; until you have done, I will be silent.”

“I have done, now, mother; 'twas only a copy of verses I was endeavouring to write out—you know—that is—write out, you know.”

“I did not know you were a poet, Corny,” returned my mother, smiling still more complacently, for it is something to be the parent of a poet.

“I!—I a poet, mother?—I'd sooner turn school-master, than turn poet. Yes, I'd sooner be Jason Newcome, himself, than even suspect it possible I could be a poet.”

“Well, never mind; people never turn poets, I fancy, with their eyes open. But, what is this I hear of your having saved a beautiful young lady from the jaws of a lion, while you were in town; and why was I left to learn all the particulars from Mr. Newcome?”

I believe my face was of the colour of scarlet, for it felt as if it were on fire, and my mother smiled still more decidedly than ever. Speak! I could not have spoken to be thus smiled on by Anneke.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of, Corny, in rescuing a young lady from a lion, or in going to her father's to receive the thanks of the family. The Mordaunts are a family any one can visit with pleasure. Was the battle between you and the beast, a very desperate conflict, my child?”

“Poh! mother:—Jason is a regular dealer in marvels, and he makes mountains of mole-hills. In the first place, for 'jaws,' you must substitute 'paws,' and for a 'young lady,' 'her shawl.'”

“Yes, I understand it was the shawl, but it was on her shoulders, and could not have been disengaged time enough to save her, had you not shown so much presence of mind and courage. As for the 'jaws,' I believe that was my mistake, for Mr. Newcome certainly said 'claws.'”

“Well, mother, have it your own way. I was of a little service to a very charming young woman, and she and her father were civil to me, as a matter of course. Herman Mordaunt is a name we all know, and, as you say, his is a family that any man may be proud of visiting, ay, and pleased too.”

“How odd it is, Corny,” added my mother, in a sort of musing, soliloquizing way,—“you are an only child, and Anneke Mordaunt is also an only child, as Dirck Follock has often told me.”

“Then Dirck has spoken to you frequently of Anneke, before this, mother?”

“Time and again; they are relations, you must have heard; as, indeed, you are yourself, if you did but know it.”

“I?—I related to Anneke Mordaunt, without being too near?”

My dear mother smiled again, while I felt sadly ashamed of myself at the next instant. I believe that a suspicion of the truth, as respects my infant passion, existed in that dear parent's mind from that moment.

“Certainly related, Corny, and I will tell you how. My great-great-grandmother, Alida van der Heyden, was a first cousin of Herman Mordaunt's great-great-grandmother, by his mother's side, who was a Van Kleeck. So, you see, you and Anneke are actually related.”

“Just near enough, mother, to put one at ease in their house, and not so near as to make relationship troublesome.”

“They tell me, my child, that Anneke is a sweet creature!”

“If beauty, and modesty, and grace, and gentleness, and spirit, and sense, and delicacy, and virtue, and piety, can make any young woman of seventeen a sweet creature, mother, then Anneke is sweet.”

My dear mother seemed surprised at my warmth, but she smiled still more complacently than ever. Instead of pursuing the subject, however, she saw fit to change it, by speaking of the prospects of the season, and the many reasons we all had for thankfulness to God. I presume, with a woman's instinct, she had learned enough to satisfy her mind for the present.

The summer soon succeeded to the May that proved so momentous to me; and I sought occupation in the fields. Occupation, however, would not do. Anneke was with me, go where I would; and glad was I when Dirck, about midsummer, in one of his periodical visits to Satanstoe, proposed that we should ride over, and make another visit to Lilacsbush. He had written a note, to say we should be glad to ask a dinner and beds, if it were convenient, for a day a short distance ahead; and he waited the answer at the Neck. This answer arrived duly by mail, and was everything we could wish. Herman Mordaunt offered us a hearty welcome, and sent the grateful intelligence that his daughter and Mary Wallace would both be present to receive us. I envied Dirck the manly feeling which had induced him to take this plain and respectable course to his object.

We went across the country, accordingly, and reached Lilacsbush several hours before dinner. Anneke received us with a bright suffusion of the face, and kind smiles; though I could not detect the slightest difference in her manners to either. To both was she gracious, gentle, attentive, and lady-like. No allusion was made to the past, except a few remarks that were given on the subject of the theatre. The officers had continued to play until the ——th had been ordered up the river, when Bulstrode, Billings, Harris, virtuous Marcia, and all, had proceeded to Albany in company. Anneke thought there was about as much to be displeased with, as there was to please, in these representations; though her removal to the country had prevented her seeing more than three of them all. It was admitted all round, however, that Bulstrode played admirably; and it was even regretted by certain persons, that he should not have been devoted to the stage.

We passed the night at Lilacsbush, and remained an hour or two after breakfast, next morning. I had carried a warm invitation from both my parents to Herman Mordaunt, to ride over, with the young ladies, and taste the fish of the Sound; and the visit was returned in the course of the month of September. My mother received Anneke as a relation; though I believe that both Herman Mordaunt and his daughter were surprised to learn that they came within even the wide embrace of Dutch kindred. They did not seem displeased, however, for the family name of my mother was good, and no one need have been ashamed of affinity to her, on her own account. Our guests did not remain the night, but they left us in a sort of a chaise that Herman Mordaunt kept for country use, about an hour before sunset. I mounted my horse, and rode five miles with the party, on its way back, and then took my leave of Anneke, as it turned out, for many, many weary months.

The year 1757 was memorable in the colonies, by the progress of the war, and as much so in New York as in any other province. Montcalm had advanced to the head of Lake George, had taken Fort William Henry, and a fearful massacre of the garrison had succeeded. This bold operation left the enemy in possession of Champlain; and the strong post of Ticonderoga was adequately garrisoned by a formidable force. A general gloom was cast over the political affairs of the colony; and it was understood that a great effort was to be made, the succeeding campaign, to repair the loss. Rumour spoke of large reinforcements from home, and of greater levies in the colonies themselves than had been hitherto attempted. Lord Loudon was to return home, and a veteran of the name of Abercrombie was to succeed him in the command of all the forces of the king. Regiments began to arrive from the West Indies; and, in the course of the winter of 1757-8, we heard at Satanstoe of the gaieties that these new forces had introduced into the town. Among other things, a regular corps of Thespians had arrived from the West Indies.

16 (return)
[ As respects the love of titles that are derived from the people, there is nothing-opposed to strict republican, or if the reader will, democratic, principles, since it is deferring to the power that appoints, and manifests a respect for that which the community chooses to elevate. But, the deference to English rank, mentioned by Mr. Littlepage, is undeniably greater among the mass in New England, than it is anywhere else in this country, at this very moment. One leading New York paper, edited by New England men, during the last controversy about the indemnity to be paid by France, actually styled the Due de Broglie “his grace,” like a Grub Street cockney,—a mode of address that would astonish that respectable statesman, quite as much as it must have amused every man of the world who saw it. I have been much puzzled to account for this peculiarity—unquestionably one that exists in the country—but have supposed it must be owing to the diffusion of information which carries intelligence sufficiently far to acquaint the mass with leading social features, without going far enough to compensate for a provincial position and provincial habits. Perhaps the exclusively English origin of the people may have an influence. The writer has passed portions of two seasons in Switzerland, and, excluding the small forest cantons, he has no hesitation in saying that the habits and general notions of Connecticut are more inherently democratical than those of any part of that country. Notwithstanding, he thinks a nobleman, particularly an English nobleman, is a far greater man in New England, than he is among the real middle-state families of New York.—EDITOR.]