His majesty’s commissioner of imposts, Theodore Newville, being an officer of the crown, dispensed generous hospitality. Gentlemen of position or culture arriving in town were cordially entertained. His table was abundantly supplied with meats and with wines mellowed by age. He was loyal to his sovereign; gloried in being an Englishman, gave reverence to King George, and was respected and honored by his fellow-citizens. On Sunday, in King’s Chapel, he repeated with unction the prayer for their majesties the king and queen, and for his royal highness the Prince of Wales. Not only as a servant of the crown but as a citizen it was his duty to be loyal to the king. He was kind, courteous, and tolerant towards those who did not agree with him in political affairs. He thought Sam Adams, James Otis, and Doctor Warren were rather hot-headed, but they were nevertheless frequent guests at his table.

Mrs. Newville took pride in making her home attractive. Whether as hostess at the dinner-table or in the parlor, she displayed tact and grace in conversation. She was ever solicitous for the welfare and happiness of Ruth, her only child, and fondly hoped a kind Providence would bring about an alliance with some worthy son of an ancient and honorable family. Her day-dreams pictured a possible marriage of her beloved daughter to some lord, earl, or baronet from the mother country, owner of a great estate, a castle, or baronial hall.

It was an agreeable announcement which Mr. Newville made to Mrs. Newville, that the ship Robin Hood, sent out by the Admiralty to obtain masts, had arrived, bringing as passengers young Lord Upperton and his traveling companion, Mr. Dapper. His lordship had recently taken his seat with the peers, and was traveling for recreation and adventure in the Colonies. Not only was he a peer, but prospective Duke of Northfield. He was intimate with the nobility of the realm, and had kissed the hands of the king and queen in the drawing-room of Buckingham Palace.

Mr. Dapper was several years the senior of Lord Upperton, so intelligent, agreeable, polite, courteous, and of such humor, that he was ever welcomed in the drawing-room of my lady the Countess of Epsom, the Marquise of Biddeford, and at the tables of my Lady Stamford, and of her grace the Duchess of Alwington. The doors of the London clubs were always wide open to one who could keep the table in a roar by his wit. Lord Upperton had chosen him as his companion during his visit to his majesty’s Colonies.

“It will indeed be an honor to entertain Lord Upperton and his friends,” said Mrs. Newville, with sparkling eyes. It was not only the anticipated pleasure of their company at dinner that set her pulses throbbing, but the thought that it might in the end make her day-dreams a reality.

Mr. Newville thought it would be eminently fitting to invite the commander of his majesty’s fleet, Admiral Montague, and also the rector of King’s Chapel, Reverend Mr. Coner; together they would represent the crown and the church.

Mrs. Newville did not intend that any bevy of beautiful girls should assemble around her table and be a cluster of diamonds to dazzle his lordship by their brilliancy. She would have but one brilliant, her own daughter. The other ladies should be of mature years. She would invite Miss Milford, who made it a point to read every new book; Miss Artley, who could paint in oils, and Miss Chanson, who would sing a song after dinner, and accompany herself upon the harpsichord; Mr. John Adams, the able lawyer, and his accomplished wife.

From her chamber window, Ruth saw a lumbering coach drive up the street. The footman in blue livery opened the coach door, and a young man, tall, handsome, wearing a blue velvet coat, the sleeves slashed with gold, an embroidered waistcoat, buff breeches, lace ruffles, and powdered wig, walked up the path accompanied by a gentleman several years his senior, faultlessly dressed, with crimson velvet coat and costly ruffles. The other guests had previously arrived. Ruth, in accordance with her mother’s wishes, wore a rich brocaded silk of pure white. She needed no adornment of silver, gold, or precious stones to set forth her loveliness as she entered the parlor.

“My lord, shall I have the pleasure of presenting my daughter?” said her mother.

Lord Upperton bowed. Mrs. Newville saw a look of surprise upon his face, as if he had not expected to find so sweet a flower in the wilderness of the Western world. He bowed again, very politely, and expressed his pleasure at making her acquaintance.

Pompey, bowing low, informed Mr. Newville that dinner was ready to be served.

“My lord, may I presume to assign my daughter to you?” said Mrs. Newville, giving her own arm to Admiral Montague.

Mr. Dapper solicited the favor of Mrs. Adams’s company. As Miss Chanson sang in the choir at King’s Chapel, Reverend Mr. Coner thought it becoming to offer her his arm, leaving Miss Artley to Mr. Newville, and Miss Milford to Mr. Adams.

“I presume, my lord, you find things quite different here from what you do in England,” Ruth remarked, feeling it was incumbent upon her to open the conversation.

“Yes, Miss Newville, very different; for instance, in London, and in almost all our towns, the houses are mostly brick, with tiles or thatch; but here, they are built of wood, covered with shingles. Your churches are meetinghouses. Queer name.” Lord Upperton laughed.

“Ha, ha! I had a funny experience the other day. I told the landlord of the Admiral Vernon I would like a chair for myself, and another for Mr. Dapper,—that we wanted to see the town. Well, what do you think happened? A little later, in came two niggers, each bringing a big rocking-chair. ‘Dese be de cheers you axed for, Massa,’ they said.”

Miss Newville laughed heartily.

“The landlord evidently did not know you meant sedan-chairs; we do not have them here,” she said.

“More than that, I told him I should want some links for the evening, as I was to be out late. He said I could get ’em in Faneuil Hall Market, if it was sausages I wanted.”

Again Miss Newville gave way to laughter.

“I do not suppose,” she said, “that the landlord ever had heard that a link-boy is a torch-bearer.”

“I had the pleasure of attending services at your church last Sunday,” said Lord Upperton to the rector, when they were seated at the table. “I noticed that you have a substantial stone edifice.”

“Yes, my lord, and we regard it with what, I trust, is reverential pride. The Church of God is enduring, and the church’s edifice should be firm and solid, and of material that the tooth of time will not gnaw,” the rector answered.

“Ought it not to be beautiful as well?” Miss Newville inquired.

“Most certainly.”

“I cannot say I think King’s Chapel is beautiful in the architecture, with its stump of a tower, and no steeple or spire,” Miss Newville replied.

“Perhaps by and by we shall have money enough to carry out the plan of the architect. I admit it is not as attractive as it might be,” said the rector.

“I never look at the lower tier of windows without laughing over the wit of Reverend Mr. Byles[44] in regard to them,” said Mr. Adams.

“What might it be?” the rector asked.

“He said he had heard of the canons of the church, but never before had he seen the portholes.”

The company laughed.

“Excellent! Excellent!” exclaimed Mr. Dapper.

“The reverend gentleman, Mr. Byles, though dissenting from our Apostolic Church, I am happy to say is loyal to our most gracious King George,” said the rector.

“Reverend Mr. Byles is very witty,” Miss Newville remarked. “He asked the selectmen several times to give their attention to a quagmire in the road near his house. After long delay, they stepped into a chaise and rode to the spot. Suddenly they found themselves stuck in the mud. Mr. Byles opened his window and remarked that he was glad they were stirring in the matter at last.”

Again the company laughed.

“Capital; he must be a genius,” said Mr. Dapper.

Pompey served the oysters, large, fat, and juicy.

“Pardon me, madam, but may I inquire what these may be?” Mr. Dapper inquired.

“They are oysters. I think you will find them quite palatable,” Mrs. Newville replied.

Mr. Dapper put his glasses to his eyes, tilted an oyster on his fork, and examined it.

“Do you mean to say that you swallow these monsters?”

“We think them fine eating,” Mrs. Adams replied.

“My lord,” said Mr. Dapper, turning to Upperton, “I’m going to try one. I’ve made my last will and testament. Tell ’em at Almack’s, when you get home, that Dapper committed suicide by attempting to swallow an oyster.”

“I will send Pompey for the coroner,” exclaimed Mr. Newville, laughing.

“’Pon my soul, madam, they are delicious. Bless me! It is worth crossing the Atlantic to eat one. Try one, my lord, and then you can torment the Macaronies[45] by telling them they don’t know anything about fine eating,” said Dapper, after gulping it down.

Lord Upperton ate one, smacked his lips, and testified his enjoyment by clearing his plate.

“I dare say, my lord, that you find many amusing things here in the Colonies,” remarked Mrs. Adams.

“Indeed I do. Yesterday, as I was smoking my pipe in the tap-room of the Admiral Vernon, a countryman stepped up to me, and said, ‘Mister, may I ax for a little pig-tail?’ I told him I didn’t keep little pigs and hadn’t any tails. I presumed he would find plenty of ’em in the market.”

Lord Upperton was at a loss to know the meaning of the shout of laughter given by the company.

“The bumpkin replied if I hadn’t any pig-tail, a bit of plug would do just as well for a chaw.”

Again the laughter.

“I expect I must have made a big bull, but, ’pon my soul, I can’t make out where the fun comes in.”

“He was asking you first for pig-tail tobacco for his pipe, and then for a bit of plug tobacco for chewing,” Mrs. Adams explained.

“Oh ho! then that is it! What a stupid donkey I was,” responded Lord Upperton, laughing heartily. “He wasn’t at all bashful,” he continued, “but was well behaved; asked me where I was from. I told him I was from London. ‘Sho! is that so? Haow’s King George and his wife?’ he asked. I told him they were well. ‘When you go hum,’ said he, ‘jes give ’em the ’spec’s of Peter Bushwick, and tell George that Yankee Doodle ain’t goin’ to pay no tax on tea.’” Lord Upperton laughed heartily. “I rather like Peter Bushwick,” he said. “I’d give a two-pound note to have him at Almack’s for an evening. He’d set the table in a roar.”

“My lord, shall I give you some cranberries?” Miss Newville asked, as she dished the sauce.

“Cranberries! What are they? I am ashamed to let you know how ignorant I am, but really I never heard of ’em before. Do they grow on trees?”

She explained that they were an uncultivated fruit, growing on vines in swamps and lowlands.

“’Pon my soul, they are delicious. And what a rich color. Indeed, you do have things good to eat,” he added, smacking his lips.

“I trust you will relish a bit of wild turkey,” said Mr. Newville, as he carved the fowl.

“Wild turkey, did you say?”

“Yes, my lord. They are plentiful in the forests.”

Again Lord Upperton smacked his lips.

“By Jove, Dapper, it is superb!” he exclaimed.

“Will you try some succotash, my lord?” Ruth inquired.

“There you have me again. What a name!”

“It is an Indian name, my lord,” said Mrs. Adams.

“Oh ho! Indian. They told me I should find the people lived like the savages. Succotash! what is it?”

“Succotash, my lord, is a mixture of beans and Indian corn.”

“Beans! beans! Do you eat beans over here?” his lordship asked.

“We do, my lord,” Mrs. Adams replied, “and we think them very nutritious and palatable, notwithstanding the maxim, ‘Abstincto a fabis.’ Possibly you may be a disciple of Pythagoras, and believe that the souls of the dead are encased in beans, and so think it almost sacrilegious for us to use them as food.”

Lord Upperton looked up in astonishment. Was it possible that ladies in the Colonies were acquainted with the classics?

“In England we feed our sheep on beans,” his lordship replied; “and may I ask what is Indian corn?”

“Possibly you may call it maize in England. When our fathers came to this country they found the Indians used it for food, and so ever since it has been known as Indian corn.”

“Beans for sheep; corn for savages. Pardon me, madam, but I am not a sheep, nor yet quite a savage with a tomahawk. Thank you, but I don’t care for any succotash.”

“Better take some, Upperton. It is positively delicious,” said Mr. Dapper, after swallowing a spoonful.

Lord Upperton poked the mixture with his spoon and then tasted it.

“It isn’t so very nasty,” he said, and took a second spoonful. “By Jove, it isn’t bad at all. Bless me, the more I eat the better I like it.”

His plate was quickly cleaned.

“Pardon me, Miss Newville, but the succotash is so superb that I dare violate good manners, which I am sure you will overlook, and pass my plate for more.”

“You see, my lord, what you have gained by trying it. If you had not tasted it, you would have gone back to England and told the nabobs that the people in the Colonies eat just such nasty things as the sheep-men feed to their flocks; but now you can torment them by describing the dainty delicacies of the Colonies.”

“By Jove! That’s a capital idea, Dapper. It will make the Macaronies mad as March hares.”

“Please fill your glasses, ladies and gentlemen, and we will drink the health of our most gracious sovereign,”[46] said Mr. Newville.

The glasses were filled, and the health of the king drunk.

“Our king is a right royal sovereign,” said Mr. Newville.

“Yes, royal, but stupid now and then,” Mr. Dapper responded, to the amazement of the company, and especially Mrs. Newville. “The fact is, my dear madam, our king, unfortunately, has the reputation of being the dullest sovereign in Europe. Perhaps you know there was not much of him to begin with, as he was only a little pinch of a baby when he was born, so puny and weak the nurses said he wouldn’t stay here long. He sat in their laps, and was coddled till six years old, when he was put under that scheming, narrow-minded bigot, Reverend Doctor Ayscough. And what do you suppose the reverend donkey set him to doing? Why, learning hymns, written by another reverend gentleman, Doctor Philip Doddridge. Very good religious hymns, no doubt, but not quite so attractive as Mother Goose would have been to the little fellow. After learning a few hymns and a few words in Latin, he was set to making verses in that language, when he could not read a story book without spelling half the words.”

“How preposterous!” exclaimed Miss Milford.

“Somewhat absurd, I will admit,” said Mr. Dapper, bowing. “One reverend doctor was not sufficient,” he continued, “to look after the education of the prince, and so my Lord Bishop Hayter of Norwich was associated with Doctor Ayscough. Then the Old Harry was let loose. My Lord Bishop of Norwich was scheming to be made Archbishop of Canterbury, and Ayscough wanted to become Bishop of Bristol. Both were striving to rival little Jack Horner in putting their thumbs into the pie.”

The ladies were amused—excepting Mrs. Newville, who laid down her knife and fork, folded her hands, and looked earnestly at Mr. Dapper.

“Do you mean to say there is scheming among the reverend prelates of our most holy church?” she asked.

“Why, madam, human nature is pretty much the same in the church as out of it, and there is quite as much intrigue among the prelates of the church as among the politicians at court. His majesty, talking about his early years not long since, said there was nothing but disagreement and intrigue among those who had charge of him during his early years. Mr. Scott, his tutor, did what he could for the little fellow, but it wasn’t much. His father, Fred, Prince of Wales, delighted in private theatricals. He had several plays performed at Leicester House by children, employing Jimmy Quin[47] to teach them their parts. Now, my dear madam, you will see that with three bishops disputing as to how the boy should be instructed in theology; whether politically he should be a Jacobite or Whig; when each was trying to get the biggest piece of pie and the most plums,—the boy, the while, muddling his brains in trying to make Latin verses and learning tragedies, there wasn’t much chance for Master Scott to get him on in other things, especially when my lord the Bishop of Norwich was intriguing to get the master kicked downstairs, that he might put one of his favorites in the position of tutor to the prince.”

“Why, Mr. Dapper!” exclaimed Mrs. Newville.

“Then the prince had a change of governors about as often as the moon fulled,” said Mr. Dapper. “Each, of course, had some directions to give in regard to his education. When Lord Harcourt was governor his chief concern was to have the prince turn out his toes when walking.”

The ladies laughed at Mr. Dapper’s droll way of narrating the manner of the king’s education.

“I do not wonder you smile, ladies; it is enough to make a horse laugh,” he said. “Perhaps you would like to know how the prince was put through his paces from the time he opened his eyes in the morning till he was tucked in bed at night. Lord North at one time was governor to the prince; he gave me the programme of the daily routine. The boy was to be out of bed at seven o’clock, eat breakfast and be ready for Mr. Scott from eight o’clock to nine, or till the Reverend Doctor John Thomas came, who had him in charge till eleven, when he was to be turned over to Mr. Fung, for what purpose Lord North did not know. At noon, Mr. Ruperti had him for half an hour. From half past twelve till three the prince could play; that is, he could walk through the grounds around Leicester House, trussed up in fine clothes like a turkey for the spit, but he couldn’t kick up his heels or turn somersaults on the grass; he must be a nice little gentleman in lace and ruffles. At three o’clock he had dinner. At half past four the dancing-master, Mr. Deneyer, taught him the minuet. At five o’clock he had another half hour with Mr. Fung. From half past six to eight Mr. Scott put him through his curriculum. At eight o’clock he had supper, but must be in bed at ten. On Sunday from half past nine till eleven Reverend Doctor Ayscough lectured him on religion. To state it plainly, our royal sovereign’s real instructors were the servants and chambermaids of Leicester House. They told him nursery tales about hobgoblins, giant-killers, and witches. Doctor Ayscough and the bishop gave him lectures on theology. The Jacobite bishop exalted the prerogatives of princes and kings. Lord Waldegrave told me that, when he was appointed governor to Prince George, he found him to be a good, narrow-minded little bigot, with his head full of nursery tales and not much else.”

“Why, Mr. Dapper!” exclaimed Mrs. Newville, laying down her knife and fork again, and holding up her hands.

“I see that you are astonished, madam. Now I would not for the world say anything disrespectful of our gracious sovereign; he is not to be blamed for the errors of those who had charge of him during his minority,—he is to be commiserated rather; but you will observe that it was not a course of education calculated to enlighten a dull intellect. That he is good at heart every one knows, but his ministers also know that he is narrow-minded and obstinate.”

“We must not forget that our most gracious majesty, King George, is one of the Lord’s chosen instruments to carry out the plan of the divine mind,” said the rector.

“Oh, certainly, my dear sir; just as much of an instrument as ever Samson was, flourishing the jawbone of an ass, smiting the Philistines hip and thigh,” Mr. Dapper replied.

The ladies smiled, but the rector did not altogether relish the reply.

“I never have quite understood how Earl Bute obtained his ascendency with the king,” said Mr. Adams.

“It was through his influence with the mother of the king,” Mr. Dapper replied. “He had a great deal to say about the king’s education. It was Bute who induced George II. to appoint Andrew Stone to have charge of the young prince. Then the fat was in the fire. The Bishop of Norwich accused Stone of being a Jacobite, and the quarrel became hot—so sharp that the bishop entered the schoolroom to have it out with Master Stone. Now I suppose, my dear rector, you would have staked your money on the bishop, on the theory that the church militant should also be the church triumphant.”

“Possibly, if I were in the habit of laying wagers,” the rector replied.

“I certainly should have done so, reverend sir, but I should have lost my money,” continued Mr. Dapper; “for Mr. Stone was plucky, used his fists beautifully, and gave it to my lord the bishop right between the eyes. The bishop was quite gamey, though, and aimed a blow at Stone’s nose, but finally got shoved out of the room, greatly to his mortification. He couldn’t let the matter drop, and so accused Stone of being drunk. The matter finally got into Parliament where there was quite a row about it. Such were the auspices under which our good sovereign was educated to administer the affairs of the realm. His mother wanted to make him pious. She would not allow him to associate with other boys because they would corrupt his morals. Lord Bute advised the princess dowager to keep the prince tied to her apron strings, and succeeded.”

“Lord Bute,” Mr. Adams responded, “is very much disliked in the Colonies. When he was at the head of the ministry, he was hung in effigy on the Liberty Tree.”

“So he was in London,” Mr. Dapper replied. “Your detestation of him cannot be greater than it is in England. No one can quite understand how John Stuart made his way up to power. He was a poor Scotsman from the Frith of Clyde. He went to school at Eton and also at Cambridge, then came to London, hired a piece of land out a little way from the city, and raised peppermint, camomile, and other simples for medicine. He had a love for private theatricals, had shapely legs and liked to show them. One evening the Prince of Wales saw his legs, and, taking a fancy to the owner, told him to make himself at home in Leicester House. That was enough for John Stuart. Having got a foothold, he made himself useful to Fred, and especially to the princess dowager. George II. was getting on in years and irritable. The old king took it upon himself to pick out a wife for the prince, selecting the daughter of Charles, Duke of Brunswick-WolfenbÜttel; but the prince said he wasn’t going to be Wolfenbuttled by his grandsire. Just what he meant by it no one knows, as the word is not to be found in Doctor Johnson’s big dictionary.”

“Shall I help you to a bit of canvasback, my lord?” Mrs. Newville asked, interrupting the narrative.

“Canvasback! What may it be? Really, you have most astonishing things to eat over here,” Lord Upperton replied.

Mrs. Newville explained that it was a duck, and that it was regarded as a delicacy.

“I never ate anything so delicious,” said Upperton.

Mr. Dapper also praised it.

“Was the marriage of our king and queen a love-match?” Miss Chanson inquired.

“Well, hardly, at the beginning,” said Mr. Dapper. “When the prince was eighteen, he fell in love with Lady Sarah Lennox, daughter of the Duke of Richmond. She was seventeen, beautiful, and attractive. She knew how to display her charms to the best advantage, by going out with the haymakers on fine summer mornings to wander in the meadows among the daisies, wearing a fancy costume. No wonder the prince, looking from the windows of Holland House, thought it a delightful exhibition of Arcadian simplicity and made haste to chat with her. But love-making between the future king and a subject was not in accordance with the princess dowager’s ideas, and so Earl Bute found it convenient to appear upon the scene,—a gentle hint that there was to be no more love-making. Their flirtations would make a long story though, for Lord Newbottle was in love with Lady Sarah and jealous of the prince, which made it all the more interesting. Bute and the princess dowager put their heads together, and sent Colonel Graham on a prospecting tour among the German principalities. He sent back word that the daughter of the Duke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz would make a good wife for his royal highness, and he judged well, for I am sure you all love our Sophia Charlotte.”

“Most certainly, and we would emulate her virtues,” said Mrs. Adams.

Mr. Newville proposed the health of the queen.

Their glasses drained, Mr. Dapper went on:—

“Lord Harcourt was sent as ambassador to negotiate a marriage, not with Sophia Charlotte, but with her brother, the duke.”

“Was not our queen consulted in regard to the matter?” Ruth asked.

“Not at all. She knew very little about the world; never had been a dozen miles from home, never even had sat at the duke’s table. She was a simple-minded little girl who gave the chickens their dough and gathered nosegays from her flower-garden. You can imagine, ladies, that she hardly knew what to make of it when told that an ambassador from England had arrived and wanted to see her. The duke told her to put on her best gown, mind what Harcourt said, and not be a baby. Suddenly the folding-doors leading to the ducal chamber opened, and there stood the ambassador. ‘You are to be married to him by proxy, and be queen of England,’ said the duke, which so surprised the poor girl that she nearly fainted. The ceremony over, Harcourt presented her with a necklace of diamonds. You see, ladies, it is almost the story of Cinderella over again!”

“It is really romantic,” responded Miss Milford.

“I would not be married to one whom I never had seen,” exclaimed Ruth.

“A princess, Miss Newville, cannot always do as she would. She may be compelled to marry against her will,” said Lord Upperton.

“I would not,” Ruth replied.

“Not if the country required it?” Lord Upperton asked.

“No, my lord; and I am glad I am not a princess.”

“Bravely spoken. Ladies and gentlemen, let us drink to the maiden who, though not of the blood royal, is yet a princess,” said Mr. Dapper.

“Hear! hear!” exclaimed the admiral, thumping the table.

The company gazed admiringly at Ruth, peerless in her beauty, the warm blood suffusing her cheeks.

“I understand that our queen assumed the position of royalty with much grace,” Mrs. Adams remarked.

“With charming simplicity, madam,” responded Mr. Dapper. “She landed at Harwich, and had an ovation all the way to London. People hurrahed, bells rang, and cannon thundered. The poor girl was terribly frightened. The thought of meeting a husband whom she had never seen unstrung her nerves. The Duchess of Hamilton laughed at her, but it was a hot shot the queen let fly; she said: ‘You have been married twice to husbands of your own choosing, but poor me must marry a man whom I never have seen.’”

“Bravo! that raked the quarter-deck,” exclaimed the admiral.

“How did the king receive her?” Ruth inquired.

“When she stepped from the coach she knelt at his feet; he gave her a kiss, and led her into the palace.”

“Very gallant on the part of the king; fitting and humble the action of the queen,” said the rector.

“I would not have got down on my knees to him,” said Ruth.

“May I ask why Miss Newville would not have knelt to her future husband and sovereign, had she been Princess Sophia?” the rector asked.

“Because it was an acknowledgement at the outset that she was not his equal. She abased herself by taking an inferior position. In the days of chivalry, men knelt to women. The princess did not leave her happy home to be a subject of King George; but to be his wife to stand by his side, and not crouch at his feet.”

“Hurrah! That’s a whole broadside. She’s sweeping your quarter-deck,” shouted the admiral.

The rector grew red in the face.

“It is recorded in the Holy Scriptures, Miss Newville, that wives must be obedient to their husbands,” he replied.

“Does the Bible say a wife must kneel at her husband’s feet?” she asked.

“Perhaps not in so many words, but she is commanded to obey. Our holy church teaches the doctrine. When the princess knelt at the feet of his majesty, it signified she would obey him. Perhaps it is my duty, Miss Newville, to say that your sentiments would be regarded as heretical by the authorities of the church.”

“Hold on, rector,” said Mr. Adams. “Don’t set the canons of the church to thundering.”

“It is the gossip at court,” said Mr. Dapper, “that the king wanted to retire soon after sundown, but the queen said she wasn’t going to bed with the hens. It is said he told her she must wear a particular dress, but she informed him he could dress as he pleased, and she should do the same.”

“You will have to go to court, rector, and lecture the queen on heresy,” said Mr. Adams.

The company laughed, and Ruth’s eyes sparkled over the rector’s discomfiture.

The meats had been removed and Pompey was serving the pastry and comfits.

“What delicious cheese you have. It is as toothsome as the finest Cheshire,” said Lord Upperton.

“We think it of excellent flavor, and I am sure you will relish it all the more when I inform you, my lord, that it was made by a girl not older than myself,” replied Ruth.

“Indeed! is it possible? How very clever she must be.”

“She is a New Hampshire lady.”

“Are dairymaids ladies?”

“Indeed they are, my lord. The young lady who made the cheese you are eating, I dare say, would adorn the court of our queen,” responded Mr. Adams.

“Bless me! oysters, cranberries, succotash, canvasback ducks, wild turkeys, pumpkin pie, dairymaids ladies, wives the equals of their husbands! Rector, will there be anything beyond these in the New Jerusalem?” exclaimed Lord Upperton.

Dinner over, the ladies passed into the parlor while the gentlemen smoked their pipes and finished their wine.

“I suppose, my lord,” said Mr. Adams, “you have not been here sufficiently long to form an opinion in regard to the Colonies.”

“Everything is so new and strange,” Lord Upperton replied, “I hardly know what to make of it. I had an idea that I should find your people quite rude and uncultivated. I understand you haven’t any theatre or anything of that sort; but, really, your ladies charm me by their conversation. Mrs. Adams informs me she has studied Latin and Greek.”

“I am happy to say my wife can read Cicero and Homer in the originals,” Mr. Adams replied.

“You astonish me,” his lordship exclaimed.

“We are somewhat primitive, but the Colonies in time will make amends for whatever they maybe lacking now,” Mr. Adams responded, sipping his wine. “The people who came to this Western world did so mainly for conscience sake, and the time will come when this country will be the seat of empire. Society here is established on enduring foundations. One hundred years hence the chances are the people in the Colonies will outnumber those of England. We are loyal to the king, but we are a liberty-loving people and jealous of our rights. In time we shall be so strong that the united force of Europe will not be able to subdue us.”[48]

“You have a great extent of country, but as a people you are widely scattered. You have only a little fringe of settlements along the seacoast. It will be an easy matter to divide you. England is rich, and has a great navy; she controls the sea. Her armies have been victors on many fields; she has wrested Canada from France,” said his lordship.

“With the aid of the Colonies,” interrupted Mr. Adams.

“Perhaps we had better give politics the go-by and join the ladies,” said his lordship, rising and moving towards the parlor.

Pompey brought in the tea-urn, cups and saucers, sugar and cream.

“Shall I pass you a cup, Miss Newville?” Lord Upperton asked.

“Thank you, my lord, but I do not drink tea.”

“Ha, ha! Miss Newville, so you have joined the other conspirators to outwit Lord North!”

“No, your lordship, I have not joined them, but I must say I admire their resolution in giving up a luxury to maintain a great principle.”

“As for myself,” said Mr. Dapper, “I rather like the spirit of the Puritan mothers and daughters here in the Colonies; they are worthy descendants of the men who had it out with Charles I. It is all nonsense, this plea of Lord North, that the people in the Colonies ought to pay a portion of the debt incurred by England in the late war with France; it is the extravagance and corruption of Parliament and of those in power that grinds us,—the giving of grants, pensions, and gratuities to favorites, parasites, and hangers-on. During Bute’s and Grenville’s administrations the public money was sown broadcast. If votes were wanted, they were purchased. It was not unusual for a member of the Commons to find four hundred pounds in his napkin at dinner, or in a billet-doux left by the postman. Of course he understood the meaning of it. The ministers helped themselves to sugar-plums worth five thousand pounds. When the Duke of Grafton was at the head of the ministry, that parasite, Tom Bradshaw, who had done some nasty work for the Premier, received an annuity of fifteen hundred pounds and a suite of thirty rooms in Hampton Palace. He is there now, and has had the suite increased to seventy apartments. Not long ago the ministry put out one hundred thousand pounds to carry a measure through the Commons.”

“You astonish me! Do you mean to intimate that our king has corrupt men around him?” Mrs. Newville inquired.

“My dear madam, the king is hardly responsible for this state of things. It is part of the political system. Politics is a game. Men can cheat in government as well as in anything else, and there are quite as many cheats in and around St. James’s as at Almack’s or any of the other gambling resorts. Other things are done in and around Westminster, by those whom you are accustomed to revere, which would astonish you could I but speak of them,” said Mr. Dapper.

The evening being beautiful, the air genial, the company strolled in the garden, and ate the ripening plums and pears. Lord Upperton, finding pleasure in the society of Miss Newville, asked what recreation the young people in the Colonies enjoyed. She told of the launching of the ship Berinthia Brandon, the pung-ride and dance at the Greyhound Tavern, the quiltings, huskings, and tea-parties.

“I hope, Miss Newville, this will not be the last time I shall have the pleasure of seeing you. I shall not soon forget the succotash and cranberries, and shall improve an early opportunity to pay my respects to you,” he said, as he bade her good-evening.

“By Jove, Dapper, she’s as fine a piece of chintz as can be picked up at St. James’s or anywhere else,” he said, as they returned to the Admiral Vernon.