HUGH WYNNE 
 VOL. I. 
 
U M=R A ft y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
IN THE PRESENCE OF WASHINGTON. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 
 
 FREE QUAKER 
 
 SOMETIME BREVET LIEUTENANT-COLONEL ON 
 
 THE STAFF OF HIS EXCELLENCY 
 
 GENERAL WASHINGTON 
 
 BY 
 
 S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D. 
 
 LL. D. HARVARD AND EDINBURGH 
 
 VOL. I 
 
 50TH THOUSAND 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 
 1898 
 
PS 
 
 2M 
 
 Copyright. 1896, by 
 THE CENTUKY Co. 
 
 THE DEVlHNE PHESa. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 
 VOL. I. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 T is now many years since I began these 
 memoirs. I wrote fully a third of them, 
 and then put them aside, having found 
 increasing difficulties as I went on with 
 my task. These arose out of the con 
 stant need to use the first person in a narrative of 
 adventure and incidents which chiefly concern the 
 writer, even though it involve also the fortunes of 
 many in all ranks of life. Having no gift in the 
 way of composition, I knew not how to supply or 
 set forth what was outside of my own knowledge, 
 nor how to pretend to that marvellous insight, as to 
 motives and thoughts, which they affect who write 
 books of fiction. This has always seemed to me 
 absurd, and so artificial that, with my fashion of 
 mind, I have never been able to enjoy such works nor 
 agreeably to accept their claim to such privilege of 
 
2 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 insight. In a memoir meant for my descendants, it 
 was fitting and desirable that I should at times speak 
 of my own appearance, and, if possible, of how I seemed 
 as child or man to others. This, I found, I did not 
 incline to do, even when I myself knew what had 
 been thought of me by friend or foe. And so, as I 
 said, I set the task aside, with no desire to take it 
 up again. 
 
 Some years later my friend, John Warder, died, 
 leaving to my son, his namesake, an ample estate, 
 and to me all his books, papers, plate, and wines. 
 Locked in a desk, I found a diary, begun when a lad, 
 and kept, with more or less care, during several years 
 of the great war. It contained also recollections of 
 our youthful days, and was very full here and there 
 of thoughts, comments, and descriptions concerning 
 events of the time, and of people whom we both 
 had known. It told of me much that I could not 
 otherwise have willingly set down, even if the mat 
 ter had appeared to me as it did to him, which was 
 not always the case ; also my friend chanced to have 
 been present at scenes which deeply concerned me, 
 but which, without his careful setting forth, would 
 never have come to my knowledge. 
 
 A kindly notice, writ nine years before, bade me 
 use his journal as seemed best to me. When I read 
 this, and came to see how full and clear were his 
 statements of much that I knew, and of some things 
 which I did not, I felt ripely inclined to take up 
 again the story I had left unfinished ; and now I 
 have done so, and have used my friend as the third 
 
HUGH WYNNE 3 
 
 person, whom I could permit to say what he thought 
 of me from time to time, and to tell of incidents I 
 did not see, or record impressions and emotions of 
 his own. This latter privilege pleases me because I 
 shall, besides my own story, be able to let those dear 
 to me gather from the confessions of his journal, and 
 from my own statements, what manner of person 
 was the true gentleman and gallant soldier to whom 
 I owed so much. 
 
 I trust this tale of an arduous struggle by a new 
 land against a great empire will make those of my 
 own blood the more desirous to serve their coun 
 try with honour and earnestness, and with an abiding 
 belief in the great Ruler of events. 
 
 In my title of this volume I have called myself a 
 " Free Quaker." The term has no meaning for most 
 of the younger generation, and yet it should tell a 
 story of many sad spiritual struggles, of much heart- 
 searching distress, of brave decisions, and of battle 
 and of camp. 
 
 At Fifth and Arch streets, on an old gable, is this 
 record : 
 
 BY GENERAL SUBSCRIPTION, 
 
 FOR THE FREE QUAKERS. 
 
 ERECTED A. D. 1783, 
 
 OF THE EMPIRE, 8. 
 
 In the burying-ground across the street, and in 
 and about the sacred walls of Christ Church, not far 
 away, lie Benjamin Franklin, Francis Hopkinson, 
 Peyton Randolph, Benjamin Rush, and many a gal 
 lant soldier and sailor of the war for freedom. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Among them, at peace forever, rest the gentle-folks 
 who stood for the king the gay men and women who 
 were neutral, or who cared little under which George 
 they danced or gambled or drank their old Madeira. 
 It is a neighbourhood which should be forever full of 
 interest to those who love the country of our birth. 
 
CHILD S early life is such as those who 
 rule over him make it j but they can only 
 modify what he is. Yet, as all know, 
 after their influence has ceased, the man 
 himself has to deal with the effects of 
 blood and breed, and, too, with the consequences of 
 the mistakes of his elders in the way of education. 
 For these reasons I am pleased to say something of 
 myself in the season of my green youth. 
 
 The story of the childhood of the great is often of 
 value, no matter from whom they are "ascended," 
 as my friend Warder used to say j but even in the 
 lives of such lesser men as I, who have played the 
 part of simple pawns in a mighty game, the change 
 from childhood to manhood is not without interest. 
 I have often wished we could have the recorded 
 truth of a child s life as it seemed to him day by day, 
 but this can never be. The man it is who writes the 
 life of the boy, and his recollection of it is perplexed 
 by the siftings of memory, which let so much of 
 thought and feeling escape, keeping little more than 
 barren facts, or the remembrance of periods of trou 
 ble or of emotion, sometimes quite valueless, while 
 more important moral events are altogether lost. 
 
 5 
 
6 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 As these pages will show, I have found it agree 
 able, and at times useful, to try to understand, as 
 far as in me lay, not only the men who were my cap 
 tains or mates in war or in peace, but also myself. I 
 have often been puzzled by that well-worn phrase 
 as to the wisdom of knowing thyself, for with what 
 manner of knowledge you know yourself is a grave 
 question, and it is sometimes more valuable to know 
 what is truly thought of you by your nearest friends 
 than to be forever teasing yourself to determine 
 whether what you have done in the course of your 
 life was just what it should have been. 
 
 I may be wrong in the belief that my friend War 
 der saw others more clearly than he saw himself. 
 He was of that opinion, and he says in one place that 
 he is like a mirror, seeing all things sharply except 
 that he saw not himself. Whether he judged me 
 justly or not, I must leave to others to decide. I 
 should be glad to think that, in the great account, I 
 shall be as kindly dealt with as in the worn and 
 faded pages which tell brokenly of the days of our 
 youth. I am not ashamed to say that my eyes have 
 filled many times as I have lingered over these 
 records of my friend, surely as sweet and true a 
 gentleman as I have ever known. Perhaps some 
 times they have even overflowed at what they 
 read. Why are we reluctant to confess a not ignoble 
 weakness, such as is, after all, only the heart s con 
 fession of what is best in life? What becomes of 
 the tears of age? 
 
 This is but a wearisome introduction, and yet 
 
HUGH WYNNE 7 
 
 necessary, for I desire to use freely my friend s jour 
 nal, and this without perpetual mention of his name, 
 save as one of the actors who played, as I did, a 
 modest part in the tumult of the war, in which my 
 own fortunes and his were so deeply concerned. To 
 tell of my own life without speaking freely of the 
 course of a mighty story would be quite impossible. 
 I look back, indeed, with honest comfort on a strug 
 gle which changed the history of three nations, but 
 I am sure that the war did more for me than I for 
 it. This I saw in others. Some who went into it 
 unformed lads came out strong men. In others its 
 temptations seemed to find and foster weaknesses of 
 character, and to cultivate the hidden germs of evil. 
 Of all the examples of this influence, none has seemed 
 to me so tragical as that of General Arnold, because, 
 being of reputable stock and sufficient means, gen 
 erous, in every-day life kindly, and a free-handed 
 friend, he was also, as men are now loath to believe, 
 a most gallant and daring soldier, a tender father, 
 and an attached husband. The thought of the fall 
 of this man fetches back to me, as I write, the re 
 membrance of my own lesser temptations, and with 
 a thankful heart I turn aside to the uneventful story 
 of my boyhood and its surroundings. v 
 
 I was born in the great city Governor William 
 Penn founded, in Pennsylvania, on the banks of the 
 Delaware, and my earliest memories are of the broad 
 river, the ships, the creek before our door, and of 
 grave gentlemen in straight-collared coats and broad- 
 brimmed beaver hats. 
 
8 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 I began life in a day of stern rule, and among a 
 people who did not concern themselves greatly as to 
 a child s having that inheritance of happiness with 
 which we like to credit childhood. Who my people 
 were had much to do with my own character, and 
 what those people were and had been it is needful to 
 say before I let my story run its natural and, I hope, 
 not uninteresting course. 
 
 In my father s bedroom, over the fireplace, hung a 
 pretty picture done in oils, by whom I know not. It 
 is now in my library. It represents a pleasant park, 
 and on a rise of land a gray Jacobean house, with, 
 at either side, low wings curved forward, so as to 
 embrace a courtyard shut in by railings and gilded 
 gates. There is also a terrace with urns and flowers. 
 I used to think it was the king s palace, until, one 
 morning, when I was still a child, Friend Pember- 
 ton carne to visit my father with William Logan and 
 a very gay gentleman, Mr. John Penn, he who was 
 sometime lieutenant-governor of the province, and of 
 whom and of his brother Richard great hopes were 
 conceived among Friends. I was encouraged by 
 Mr. Penn to speak more than was thought fitting 
 for children in those days, and because of his rank 
 I escaped the reproof I should else have met with. 
 
 He said to my father, " The boy favours thy people." 
 Then he added, patting my head, "When thou art 
 a man, my lad, thou shouldst go and see where thy 
 people came from in Wales. I have been at Wyn- 
 cote. It is a great house, with wings in the Italian 
 manner, and a fine fountain in the court, and gates 
 
HUGH WYNNE 9 
 
 which, were gilded when Charles II. came to see the 
 squire, and which are not to be set open again until 
 another king conies thither." 
 
 Then I knew this was the picture upstairs, and 
 much pleased I said eagerly: 
 
 " My father has it in his bedroom, and our arms 
 below it, all painted most beautiful." 
 
 " Thou art a clever lad," said the young lieutenant- 
 governor, " and I must have described it well. Let 
 us have a look at it, Friend Wynne." 
 
 But my mother, seeing that "William Logan and 
 Friend Pemberton were silent and grave, and that my 
 father looked ill pleased, made haste to make ex 
 cuse, because it was springtime and the annual house- 
 cleaning was going on. 
 
 Mr. Penn cried out merrily, " I see that the elders 
 are shocked at thee, Friend Wynne, because of these 
 vanities of arms and pictures; but there is good 
 heraldry on the tankard out of which I drank James 
 Pemberton s beer yesterday. Fie, fie, Friend James ! " 
 Then he bowed to my mother very courteously, and 
 said to my father, " I hope I have not got thy boy 
 into difficulties because I reminded him that he is 
 come of gentles." 
 
 " No, no," said my mother. 
 
 " I know the arms, madam, and well too : quar 
 terly, three eagles displayed in fesse, and 
 
 "Thou wilt pardon me, Friend Perm," said my 
 father, curtly. " These are the follies of a world which 
 concerns not those of our society. The lad s aunt has 
 put enough of such nonsense into his head already." 
 
10 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " Let it pass, then," returned the young lieutenant- 
 governor, with good humour ; " but I hope, as I said, 
 that I have made no trouble for this stout boy of 
 thine." 
 
 My father replied deliberately, " There is no harm 
 done. 7 He was too proud to defend himself, but I 
 heard long after that he was taken to task by Thomas 
 Scattergood and another for these vanities of arms 
 and pictures. He told them that he put the picture 
 where none saw it but ourselves, and, when they per 
 sisted, reminded them sharply, as Mr. Penn had done, 
 of the crests on their own silver, by which these 
 Friends of Welsh descent set much store. 
 
 I remember that, when the gay young lieutenant- 
 governor had taken his leave, my father said to my 
 mother, " Was it thou who didst tell the boy this fool 
 ishness of these being our arms and the like, or was 
 it my sister Gainor ? " 
 
 Upon this my mother drew up her brows, and 
 spread her palms out, a French way she had, and 
 cried, "Are they not thy arms? Wherefore should 
 we be ashamed to confess it?" 
 
 I suppose this puzzled him, for he merely added, 
 " Too much may be made of such vanities." 
 
 All of this I but dimly recall. It is one of the 
 earliest recollections of my childhood, and, being out 
 of the common, was, I suppose, for that reason better 
 remembered. 
 
 I do not know how old I was when, at this time, 
 Mr. Penn, in a neat wig with side rolls, and dressed 
 very gaudy, aroused my curiosity as to these folks in 
 
HUGH WYNNE 11 
 
 Wales. It was long after, and only by degrees, that 
 I learned the following facts, which were in time to 
 have a great influence on my own life and its varied 
 fortunes. 
 
 In or about the year 1671, and of course before 
 Mr. Penn, the proprietary, came over, my grandfather 
 had crossed the sea, and settled near Chester 011 
 lands belonging to the Swedes. The reason of his 
 coming was this : about 1669 the Welsh of the Eng 
 lish church and the magistrates were greatly stirred 
 to wrath against the people called Quakers, because 
 of their refusal to pay tithes. Among these offen 
 ders was no small number of the lesser gentry, espe 
 cially they of Merionethshire. 
 
 My grandfather, Hugh Wynne, was the son and 
 successor of Godfrey Wynne, of Wyncote. How 
 he chanced to be born among these hot-blooded 
 Wynnes I do not comprehend. He is said to have 
 been gay in his early days, but in young manhood to 
 have become averse to the wild ways of his breed, 
 and to have taken a serious and contemplative turn. 
 Falling in with preachers of the people called Qua 
 kers, he left the church of the establishment, gave up 
 hunting, ate his game-cocks, and took to straight col 
 lars, plain clothes, and plain talk. When he refused 
 to pay the tithes he was fined, and at last cast into 
 prison in Shrewsbury Gate House, where he lay for 
 a year, with no more mind to B taxed for a hire 
 ling ministry at the end of that time than at the 
 beginning. 
 
 His next brother, William, a churchman as men 
 
12 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 go, seems to have loved him, although he was him 
 self a rollicking fox-hunter ; and, seeing that Hugh 
 would die if left in this duress, engaged him to go to 
 America. Upon his agreeing to make over his estate 
 to William, those in authority readily consented to 
 his liberation, since William had no scruples as to 
 the matter of tithes, and with him there would be no 
 further trouble. Thus it came about that my grand 
 father Hugh left Wales. He had with him, I pre 
 sume, enough of means to enable him to make a 
 start in Pennsylvania. It could not have been much. 
 He carried also, what no doubt he valued, a certifi 
 cate of removal from the Quarterly Meeting held at 
 Tyddyn y Garreg. I have this singular document. 
 In it is said of him and of his wife, Ellin ("for 
 whom it may concern w ), that " they are faithfull and 
 beloved Friends, well known to be serviceable unto 
 Friends and brethren, since they have become con 
 vinced; of a blameless and savory conversation. 
 Also are P sons Dearly beloved of all Souls. His 
 testimony sweet and tender, reaching to the quicking 
 seed of life ; we cannot alsoe but bemoan the want 
 of his company, for that in difficult occasion he was 
 sted-f ast nor was one to be turned aside. He is now 
 seasonable in intention for the Plantations, in order 
 into finding his way clear, and freedom in the truth 
 according to the measure manifested unto him," etc. 
 And so the strong-minded man is commended to 
 Friends across the seas. In the records of the meet 
 ings for sufferings in England are certain of his let 
 ters from the jail. How his character descended to 
 
HUGH WYNNE 13 
 
 my sterner parent, and, through another generation, 
 to me, and how the coming in of my mother s gen 
 tler blood helped in after-days, and amid stir of 
 war, to modify in me, this present writer, the ruder 
 qualities of my race, I may hope to set forth. 
 
 William died suddenly in 1679 without children, 
 and was succeeded by the third brother, Owen. This 
 gentleman lived the life of his time, and, dying in 
 1700 of much beer and many strong waters, left one 
 son, Owen, a minor. What with executors and other 
 evils, the estate now went from ill to worse. Owen 
 Wynne 2d was in no haste, and thus married as late as 
 somewhere about 1740, and had issue, William, and 
 later, in 1744, a second son, Arthur, and perhaps 
 others ; but of all this I heard naught until many 
 years after, as I have already said. 
 
 It may seem a weak and careless thing for a man 
 thus to cast away his father s lands as my ancestor 
 did j but what he gave up was a poor estate, embar 
 rassed with mortgages and lessened by fines, until 
 the income was, I suspect, but small. Certain it is 
 that the freedom to worship God as he pleased was 
 more to him than wealth, and assuredly not to be 
 set against a so meagre estate, where he must have 
 lived among enmities, or must have diced, drunk, and 
 hunted with the rest of his kinsmen and neighbours. 
 
 I have a faint memory of my aunt, Gainor Wynne, 
 as being fond of discussing the matter, and of how 
 angry this used to make my father. She had a 
 notion that my father knew more than he was will 
 ing to say, and that there had been something further 
 
14 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 agreed between the brothers, although what this was 
 she knew not, nor ever did for many a day. She was 
 given, however, to filling my young fancy with tales 
 about the greatness of these Wynnes, and of how the 
 old homestead, rebuilded in James I. 7 s reign, had 
 been the nest of Wynnes past the memory of man. 
 Be all this as it may, we had lost Wyncote for the 
 love of a freer air, although all this did not much 
 concern me in the days of which I now write. 
 
 Under the mild and just rule of the proprietary, 
 my grandfather Hugh prospered, and in turn his son 
 John, my father, to a far greater extent. Their old 
 home in Wales became to them, as time went on, less 
 and less important. Their acres here in Merion and 
 Bucks were more numerous and more fertile. I may 
 add that the possession of many slaves in Maryland, 
 and a few in Pennsylvania, gave them the feeling of 
 authority and position, which the colonial was apt to 
 lose in the presence of his English rulers, who, being 
 in those days principally gentlemen of the army, 
 were given to assuming airs of superiority. 
 
 In a word, my grandfather, a man of excellent wits 
 and of much importance, was of the council of Wil 
 liam Penn, and, as one of his chosen advisers, much 
 engaged in his difficulties with the Lord Baltimore 
 as to the boundaries of the lands held of the crown. 
 Finally, when, as Penn says, "I could not prevail 
 with my wife to stay, and still less with Tishe," 
 which was short for Lsetitia, his daughter, an obsti 
 nate wench, it was to men like Markham, Logan, 
 and my grandfather that he gave his full confidence 
 
HUGH WYNNE 15 
 
 and delegated his authority ; so that Hugh Wynne 
 had become, long before his death, a person of so 
 much greater condition than the small squires to 
 whom he had given up his estate, that he was 
 like Joseph in this new land. What with the indif 
 ference come of large means, and disgust for a 
 country where he had been ill treated, he probably 
 ceased to think of his forefathers life in Wales as 
 of a thing either desirable or in any way suited to 
 his own creed. 
 
 Soon the letters, which at first were frequent, that 
 is, coming twice a year, when the London packet 
 arrived or departed, became rare; and if, on the 
 death of my great-uncle William, they ceased, or if 
 any passed later between us and the next holder 
 of Wyncote, I never knew. The Welsh squires had 
 our homestead, and we our better portion of wealth 
 and freedom in this new land. And so ended my 
 knowledge of this matter for many a year. 
 
 You will readily understand that the rude life 
 of a fox-hunting squire or the position of a strict 
 Quaker on a but moderate estate in Merionethshire 
 would have had little to tempt my father. Yet one 
 thing remained with him awhile as an unchanged 
 inheritance, to which, so far as I remember, he only 
 once alluded. Indeed, I should never have guessed 
 that he gave the matter a thought but for that visit 
 of Mr. John Penn, and the way it recurred to me in 
 later days in connection with an incident concerning 
 the picture and the blazoned arms. 
 
 I think he cared less and less as years went by. In 
 
16 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 earlier days he may still have liked to remember 
 that he might have been Wynne of Wyncote ; but 
 this is a mere guess on my part. Pride spiritual is 
 a master passion, and certain it is that the creed and 
 ways of Fox and Penn became to him, as years cre 
 ated habits, of an importance far beyond the pride 
 which values ancient blood or a stainless shield. 
 
 The old house, which was built much in the same 
 fashion as the great mansion of my Lord Dysart on 
 the Thames near to Richmond, but smaller, was, after 
 all, his family home. The picture and the arms were 
 hid away in deference to opinions by which in gen 
 eral he more and more sternly abided. Once, when 
 I was older, I went into his bedroom, and was sur 
 prised to find him standing before the hearth, his 
 hands crossed behind his back, looking earnestly at 
 the brightly coloured shield beneath the picture of 
 Wyncote. I knew too well to disturb him in these 
 silent moods, but hearing my steps, he suddenly 
 called me to him. I obeyed with the dread his stern 
 ness always caused me. To my astonishment, his 
 face was flushed and his eyes were moist. He laid 
 his hand on my shoulder, and clutched it hard as he 
 spoke. He did not turn, but, still looking up at the 
 arms, said, in a voice which paused between the words 
 and sounded strange : 
 
 "I have been insulted to-day, Hugh, by the man 
 Thomas Bradford. I thank God that the Spirit pre 
 vailed with me to answer him in Christian meekness. 
 He came near to worse things than harsh words. 
 Be warned, my son. It is a terrible set-back from 
 
HUGH WYNNE 17 
 
 right living to come of a hot-blooded breed like 
 these Wynnes." - 
 
 I looked up at him as he spoke. He was smiling. 
 "But not all bad, Hugh, not all bad. Remember 
 that it is something, in this nest of disloyal traders, 
 to have come of gentle blood. 7 
 
 Then he left gazing on the arms and the old home 
 of our people, and said severely, " Hast thou gotten 
 thy tasks to-day ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " It has not been so of late. I hope thou hast con 
 sidered before speaking. If I hear no better of thee 
 soon thou wilt repent it. It is time thou should st 
 take thy life more seriously. What I have said is 
 for no ear but thine." 
 
 I went away with a vague feeling that I had suf 
 fered for Mr. Bradford, and on account of my father s 
 refusal to join in resistance to the Stamp Act ; for 
 this was in November, 1765, and I was then fully 
 twelve years of age. 
 
 My father s confession, and all he had said follow 
 ing it, made upon me one of those lasting impres 
 sions which are rare in youth, but which may have a 
 great influence on the life of a man. Now all the 
 boys were against the Stamp Act, and I had at the 
 moment a sudden fear at being opposed to my father. 
 I had, too, a feeling of personal shame because this 
 strong man, whom I dreaded on account of his sever 
 ity, should have been so overwhelmed by an insult. 
 There was at this period, and later, much going on 
 in my outer life to lessen the relentless influence of 
 2 
 
18 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 the creed of conduct which prevailed in our home for 
 me, and for all of our house. I had even then begun 
 to suspect at school that non-resistance did not add 
 permanently to the comfort of life. I was sorry that 
 my father had not resorted to stronger measures 
 with Mr. Bradford, a gentleman whom, in after- 
 years, I learned greatly to respect. 
 
 More than anything else, this exceptional experi 
 ence as to my father left me with a great desire to 
 know more of these Wynnes, and with a certain share 
 of that pride of race, which, to my surprise, as I think 
 it over now, was at that time in my father s esteem 
 a possession of value. I am bound to add that I also 
 felt some self-importance at being intrusted with 
 this secret, for such indeed it was. 
 
 Before my grandfather left Wales he had married 
 a distant cousin, Ellin Owen, and on her death, child 
 less, he took to wife, many years later, her younger sis 
 ter, Gainor ; 1- for these Owens, our kinsmen, had also 
 become Friends, and had followed my grandfather s 
 example in leaving their horn e in Merionethshire. To 
 this second marriage, which occurred in 1713, were 
 born my aunt, Gainor Wynne, and, two years later, 
 my father, John Wynne. I have no remembrance 
 of either grandparent. Both lie in the ground at 
 Merion Meeting-house, under nameless, unmarked 
 graves, after the manner of Friends. I like it not. 
 
 My father, being a stern and silent man, must 
 needs be caught by his very opposite, and, accord- 
 
 1 Thus early we shed the English prejudice against mar 
 riage with a deceased wife s sister. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 19 
 
 ing to this law of our nature, fell in love with Marie 
 Beauvais, the orphan of a French gentleman who 
 had become a Quaker, and was of that part of France 
 called the Midi. Of this marriage I was the only 
 surviving offspring, my sister Ellin dying when I 
 was an infant. I was born in the city of Penn, on 
 January 9, 1753, at 9 p. M. 
 
II 
 
 HAVE but to close my eyes to see the 
 house in which I lived in my youth. It 
 stood in the city of Penn, back from the 
 low bluff of Dock Creek, near to Walnut 
 street. The garden stretched down to 
 the water, and before the door were still left on either 
 side two great hemlock-spruces, which must have 
 been part of the noble woods under which the first 
 settlers found shelter. Behind the house was a sepa 
 rate building, long and low, in which all the cook 
 ing was done, and upstairs were the rooms where 
 the slaves dwelt apart. 
 
 The great garden stretched westward as far as 
 Third street, and was full of fine fruit-trees, and in 
 the autumn of melons, first brought hither in one of 
 my father s ships. Herbs and simples were not want 
 ing, nor berries, for all good housewives in those days 
 were expected to be able to treat colds and the lesser 
 maladies with simples, as they were called, and to pro 
 vide abundantly jams and conserves of divers kinds. 
 There were many flowers too, and my mother loved 
 to make a home here for the wildings she found in 
 the governor s woods. I have heard her regret that 
 the most delicious of all the growths of spring, the 
 
 20 
 
HUGH WYNNE 21 
 
 ground-sweet, which I think they now call arbutus, 
 would not prosper out of its forest shelter. 
 
 The house was of black and red brick, and double ; 
 that is, with two windows on each side of a white 
 Doric doorway, having something portly about it. I 
 use the word as Dr. Johnson defines it ; a house of 
 port, with a look of sufficiency, and, too, of ready 
 hospitality, which was due, I think, to the upper 
 half of the door being open a good part of the year. 
 I recall also the bull s-eye of thick glass in the upper 
 half-door, and below it a great brass knocker. In the 
 white shutters were cut crescentic openings, which 
 looked at night like half-shut eyes when there were 
 lights within the rooms. In the hall were hung on 
 pegs leathern buckets. They were painted green, 
 and bore, in yellow letters, " Fire n and " J. W." 
 
 The day I went to school for the first time is very 
 clear in my memory. I can see myself, a stout little 
 fellow about eight years old, clad in gray homespun, 
 with breeches, low shoes, and a low, flat beaver hat. 
 I can hear my mother say, " Here are two big apples 
 for thy master," it being the custom so to propitiate 
 pedagogues. Often afterward I took eggs in a little 
 basket, or flowers, and others did the like. 
 
 " Now run ! run ! " she cried, " and be a good boy ; 
 run, or thou wilt be late." And she clapped her 
 hands as I sped away, now and then looking back 
 over my shoulder. 
 
 I remember as well my return home to this solid 
 house, this first day of my going to school. One is 
 apt to associate events with persons, and my mother 
 
22 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 stood leaning on the half-door as I came running 
 back. She was some little reassured to see me smil 
 ing, for, to tell the truth, I had been mightily scared 
 at my new venture. 
 
 This sweet and most tender-hearted lady wore, as 
 you may like to know, a gray gown, and a blue chintz 
 apron fastened over the shoulders with wide bands. 
 On her head was a very broad-brimmed white beaver 
 hat, low in the crown, and tied by silk cords under 
 her chin. She had a great quantity of brown hair, 
 among which was one wide strand of gray. This 
 she had from youth, I have been told. It was all 
 very silken, and so curly that it was ever in rebellion 
 against the custom of Friends, which would have had 
 it flat on the temples. Indeed, I never saw it so, for, 
 whether at the back or at the front, it was wont to 
 escape in large curls. Nor do I think she disliked 
 this worldly wilfulness, for which nature had pro 
 vided an unanswerable excuse. She had serious blue 
 eyes, very large and wide open, so that the clear white 
 was seen all around the blue, and with a constant look 
 as if of gentle surprise. In middle life she was 
 still pliant and well rounded, with a certain compli 
 ment of fresh prettiness in whatever gesture she 
 addressed to friend or guest. Some said it was a 
 French way, and indeed she made more use of her 
 hands in speech than was common among people of 
 British race. 
 
 Her goodness seems to me to have been instinc 
 tive, and to have needed neither thought nor effort. 
 Her faults, as I think of her, were mostly such as 
 
HUGH WYNNE 23 
 
 arise from excess of loving and of noble moods. 
 She would be lavish where she had better have been 
 merely generous, or rash where some would have 
 lacked even the commoner qualities of courage. In 
 deed, as to this, she feared no one neither my grave 
 father nor the grimmest of inquisitive committees of 
 Friends. 
 
 As I came she set those large, childlike eyes on me, 
 and opening the lower half -door, cried out : 
 "I could scarce wait for thee ! I wish I could have 
 gone with thee, Hugh ; and was it dreadful ? Come, 
 let us see thy little book. And did they praise thy 
 reading ? Didst thou tell them I taught thee 1 There 
 are girls, I hear," and so on a way she had of ask 
 ing many questions without waiting for a reply. 
 
 As we chatted we passed through the hall, where 
 tali mahogany chairs stood dark against the white 
 washed walls, such as were in all the rooms. Joyous 
 at escape from school, and its confinement of three 
 long, weary hours, from eight to eleven, I dropped 
 my mother s hand, and, running a little, slid down 
 the long entry over the thinly sanded floor, and then 
 slipping, came down with a rueful countenance, as 
 nature, foreseeing results, meant that a boy should 
 descend when his legs fail him. My mother sat down 
 on a settle, and spread out both palms toward me, 
 laughing, and crying out : 
 
 " So near are joy and grief, my friends, in this 
 world of sorrow." 
 
 This was said so exactly with the voice and man 
 ner of a famous preacher of our Meeting that even 
 
24 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 I, a lad then of only eight years, recognised the 
 imitation. Indeed, she was wonderful at this trick 
 of mimicry, a thing most odious among Friends. 
 As I smiled, hearing her, I was aware of my father 
 in the open doorway of the sitting-room, tall, strong, 
 with much iron-gray hair. Within I saw several 
 Friends, large rosy men in drab, with horn buttons 
 and straight collars, their stout legs clad in dark silk 
 hose, without the paste or silver buckles then in use. 
 All w r ore broad-brimmed, low beavers, and their 
 gold-headed canes rested between their knees. 
 
 My father said to me, in his sharp way, " Take thy 
 noise out into the orchard. The child disturbs us, 
 wife. Thou shouldst know better. A committee of 
 overseers is with me." He disliked the name Marie, 
 and was never heard to use it, nor even its English 
 equivalent. 
 
 Upon this the dear lady murmured, "Let us fly, 
 Hugh," and she ran on tiptoe along the hall with 
 me, while my father closed the door. " Come," she 
 added, " and see the floor. I am proud of it. We 
 have friends to eat dinner with us at two." 
 
 The great room where we took our meals is still 
 clear in my mind. The floor was two inches deep in 
 white sand, in which were carefully traced zigzag 
 lines, with odd patterns in the corners. A bare 
 table of well-rubbed mahogany stood in the middle, 
 with a thin board or two laid on the sand, that the 
 table might be set without disturbing the patterns. 
 In the corners were glass-covered buffets, full of sil 
 ver and Delft ware 5 and a punch-bowl of Chelsea was 
 
HUGH WYNNE 
 
 on the broad window-ledge, with a silver-mounted 
 cocoanut ladle. 
 
 " The floor is pretty/ she said, regarding it with 
 pride, " and I would make flowers too, but that thy 
 father thinks it vain, and Friend Pemberton would 
 set his bridge spectacles on his nose, and look at me, 
 until I said naughty words, oh, very ! Come out ; I 
 will find thee some ripe damsons, and save thee cake 
 for thy supper, if Friend Warder does not eat it all. 
 He is a little man, and eats much. A solicitous man/ 
 and she became of a sudden the person she had in 
 mind, looking somehow feeble and cautious and un 
 easy, with arms at length, and the palms turned 
 forward, so that I knew it for Joseph Warder, a fre 
 quent caller, of whom more hereafter. 
 
 " What is so solicitous ? " I said. 
 
 " Oh, too fearful concerning what may be thought 
 of him. Vanity, vanity ! Come, let us run down the 
 garden. Canst thou catch me, Hugh ? " And with 
 this she fled away, under the back stoop and through 
 the trees, light and active, her curls tumbling out, 
 while I hurried after her, mindful of damsons, and 
 wondering how much cake Friend Warder would 
 leave for my comfort at evening. 
 
 Dear, ever dear lady, seen through the mist of 
 years ! None was like you, and none as dear, save 
 one who had as brave a soul, but far other ways and 
 charms. 
 
 And thus began my life at school, to which I went 
 twice a day, my father not approving of the plan of 
 three sessions a day, which was common, nor, for 
 
26 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 some reason, I know not what, of schools kept by 
 Friends. So it was that I set out before eight, and 
 went again from two to four. My master, David 
 Dove, kept his school in VidalPs Alley, nigh to 
 Chestnut, above Second. There were many boys and 
 girls, and of the former John Warder, and Graydon, 
 who wrote certain memoirs long after. His mother, 
 a widow, kept boarders in the great Slate-roof House 
 near by ; for in those days this was a common re 
 source of decayed gentlewomen, and by no means 
 aifected their social position. Here came many 
 officers to stay, and their red coats used to please my 
 eyes as I went by the porch, where at evening I saw 
 them smoking long pipes, and saying not very nice 
 things of the local gentry, or of the women as they 
 passed by, and calling " Mohair ! " after the gentle 
 men, a manner of army word of contempt for citizens. 
 I liked well enough the freedom I now enjoyed, and 
 found it to my fancy to wander a little on my way to 
 school, although usually I followed the creek, and, 
 where Second street crossed it, lingered on the bridge 
 to watch the barges or galleys come up at full of tide 
 to the back of the warehouses on the northeast bank. 
 I have observed that teachers are often eccentric, 
 and surely David Dove was no exception, nor do I 
 now know why so odd a person was chosen by many 
 for the care of youth. I fancy my mother had to do 
 with the choice in my case, and was influenced by 
 the fact that Dove rarely used the birch, but had a 
 queer fancy for setting culprits on a stool, with the 
 birch switch stuck in the back of the jacket, so as to 
 
HUGH WYNNE 27 
 
 stand up behind the head. I hated this, and would 
 rather have been birched secundum artem than to 
 have seen the girls giggling at me. I changed my 
 opinion later. 
 
 Thus my uneventful life ran on, while I learned to 
 write, and acquired, with other simple knowledge, 
 enough of Latin and Greek to fit me for entrance at 
 the academy, which Dr. Franklin had founded in 1750, 
 in the hall on Fourth street, built for Whitefield s 
 preaching. 
 
 At this time I fell much into the company of John 
 Warder, a lad of my own age, and a son of that 
 Joseph who liked cake, and was, as my mother said, 
 solicitous. Most of the games of boys were not 
 esteemed fitting by Friends, and hence w$ were 
 somewhat limited in our resources j but to fish in the 
 creek we were free ; also to haunt the ships and hear 
 sea yarns, and to skate in winter, were not forbidden. 
 Jack Warder I took to because he was full of stories, 
 and would imagine what things might chance to my 
 father s ships in the West Indies ; but why, in those 
 early days, he liked me, I do not know. 
 
 Our school life with Dove ended after four years 
 in an odd fashion. I was then about twelve, and 
 had become a vigorous, daring boy, with, as it now 
 seems to me, something of the fortunate gaiety of 
 my mother. Other lads thought it singular that in 
 peril I became strangely vivacious ; but underneath 
 I had a share of the relentless firmness of my father, 
 and of his vast dislike of failure, and of his love of 
 truth. I have often thought that the father in me 
 
28 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 saved me from the consequences of so much of my 
 mother s gentler nature as might have done me harm 
 in the rude conflicts of life. 
 
 David Dove, among other odd ways, devised a plan 
 for punishing the unpunctual which had consider 
 able success. One day, when I had far overstayed 
 the hour of eight, by reason of having climbed into 
 Friend Pemberton s gardens, where I was tempted by 
 many green apples, I was met by four older boys. One 
 had a lantern, which, with much laughter, he tied 
 about my neck, and one, marching before, rang a bell. 
 I had seen this queer punishment fall on others, and 
 certainly the amusement shown by people in the 
 streets would not have hurt me compared with the 
 advantage of pockets full of apples, had I not of a 
 sudden seen my father, who usually breakfasted at 
 six, and was at his warehouse by seven. He looked 
 at me composedly, but went past us saying nothing. 
 
 On my return about eleven, he unluckily met me 
 in the garden, for I had gone the back way in order 
 to hide my apples. I had an unpleasant half-hour, 
 despite my mother s tears, and was sent at once to 
 confess to Friend James Pemberton. The good 
 man said I was a naughty boy, but must come later 
 when the apples were red ripe, and I should take all 
 I wanted, and I might fetch with me another boy, 
 or even two. I never forgot this, and did him some 
 good turns in after-years, and right gladly too. 
 
 In my own mind I associated David Dove with 
 this painful interview with my father. I disliked 
 him the more because, when the procession entered 
 
HUGH WYNNE 29 
 
 the school, a little girl for whom Warder and I had 
 a boy friendship, in place of laughing, as did the rest, 
 for some reason began to cry. This angered the 
 master, who had the lack of self-control often seen in 
 eccentric people. He asked why she cried, and on 
 her sobbing out that it was because she was sorry 
 for me, he bade her take off her stays. These being 
 stiff, and worn outside the gown, would have made 
 the punishment of the birch on the shoulders of tri 
 fling moment. 
 
 As it was usual to whip girls at school, the little 
 maid said nothing, but did as she was bid, taking a 
 sharp birching without a cry. Meanwhile I sat with 
 my head in my hands, and my fingers in my ears lest 
 I should hear her weeping. After school that even- \ 
 ing, when all but Warder and I had wandered home, 
 I wrote on the outside wall of the school-house with 
 chalk, "David Dove Is A Cruel Beast," and went 
 away somewhat better contented. 
 
 Now, with all his seeming dislike to use the rod, 
 David had turns of severity, and then he was far 
 more brutal than any man I have ever known. 
 Therefore it did not surprise us next morning that 
 the earlier scholars were looking with wonder and 
 alarm at the sentence on the wall, when Dove, ap 
 pearing behind us, ordered us to enter at once. 
 
 Going to his desk, he put on his spectacles, which 
 then were worn astride of the nose. In a minute he 
 set on below them a second pair, and this we knew to 
 be a signal of coming violence. Then he stood up, 
 and asked who had written the opprobrious epithet 
 
30 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 on the wall. As no one replied, he asked several in 
 turn, but luckily chose the girls, thinking, perhaps, 
 that they would weakly betray the sinner. Soon he 
 lost patience, and cried out he would give a king s 
 pound to know. 
 
 When he had said this over and over, I began to 
 reflect that, if he had any real idea of doing as he 
 promised, a pound was a great sum, and to consider 
 what might be done with it in the way of marbles of 
 Amsterdam, tops, and of certain much-desired books, 
 for now this latter temptation was upon me, as it 
 has been ever since. As I sat, and Dove thundered, 
 I remembered how, when one Stacy, with an oath, 
 assured my father that his word was as good as his 
 bond, my parent said dryly that this equality left him 
 free to choose, and he would prefer his bond. I saw 
 no way to what was for me the mysterious security 
 of a bond, but I did conceive of some need to stiffen 
 the promise Dove had made before I faced the 
 penalty. 
 
 Upon this I held up a hand, and the master cried, 
 "What is it f w 
 
 I said, " Master, if a boy should tell thee wouldst 
 thou surely give a pound ? " 
 
 At this a lad called " Shame ! n thinking I was a 
 telltale. 
 
 When Dove called silence and renewed his pledge, 
 I, overbold, said, "Master, I did it, and now wilt 
 thou please to give me a pound a king s pound?" 
 
 " I will give thee a pounding ! " he roared j and 
 upon this came down from his raised form, and gave 
 
HUGH WYNNE 31 
 
 me a beating so terrible and cruel that at last the 
 girls cried aloud, and he let me drop on the floor, 
 sore and angry. I lay still awhile, and then went to 
 my seat. As I bent over my desk, it was rather the 
 sense that I had been wronged, than the pain of the 
 blows, which troubled me. 
 
 After school, refusing speech to any, I walked 
 home, and ministered to my poor little bruised body 
 as I best could. Now this being a Saturday, and 
 therefore a half -holiday, I ate at two with my father 
 and mother. 
 
 Presently my father, detecting my uneasy move 
 ments, said, " Hast thou been birched to-day, and for 
 what badness ? " 
 
 Upon this my mother said softly, " What is it, my 
 son ? Have no fear." And this gentleness being too 
 much for me, I fell to tears, and blurted out all my 
 little tragedy. 
 
 As I ended, my father rose, very angry, and cried 
 out, " Come this way ! " But my mother caught me, 
 1 saying, " No ! no ! Look, John ! see his poor neck 
 and his wrist ! What a brute ! I tell thee, thou 
 shalt not ! it were a sin. Leave him to me," and she 
 thrust me behind her as if for safety. 
 
 To my surprise, he said, " As thou wilt," and my 
 mother hurried me away. We had a grave, sweet 
 talk, and there it ended for a time. I learned that, 
 after all, the woman s was the stronger will. I was 
 put to bed and declared to have a fever, and given 
 sulphur and treacle, and kept out of the paternal 
 paths for a mournful day of enforced rest. 
 
32 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 On the Monday following I went to school as 
 usual, but not without fear of Dove. When we were 
 all busy, about ten o clock, I was amazed to hear my 
 father s voice. He stood before the desk, and ad 
 dressed Master Dove in a loud voice, meaning, I 
 suppose, to be heard by all of us. 
 
 " David Dove," he said, " my son hath been guilty 
 of disrespect to thee, and to thy office. I do not say 
 he has lied, for it is my belief that thou art truly an 
 unjust and cruel beast. As for his sin, he has suf 
 fered enough [I felt glad of this final opinion] ; but 
 a bargain was made. He, on his part, for a consid 
 eration of one pound sterling, was to tell thee who 
 wrote certain words. He has paid thee and thou 
 hast taken interest out of his skin. Indeed, Friend 
 Shylock, I think he weighs less by a pound. Thou 
 wilt give him his pound, Master David." 
 
 Upon this a little maid near by smiled at me, 
 and Warder punched me in the ribs. Master Dove 
 was silent a moment, and then answered that there 
 was no law to make him pay, and that he had spoken 
 lightly, as one might say, " I would give this or that 
 to know." But my father replied at once : 
 
 " The boy trusted thee, and was as good as his 
 word. I advise thee to pay. As thou art Master to 
 punish boys, so will I, David, use thy birch on thee 
 at need, and trust to the great Master to reckon with 
 me if I am wrong." 
 
 All this he said so fiercely that I trembled with 
 joy, and hoped that Dove would deny him ; but, in 
 place of this, he muttered something about Meeting 
 
HUGH WYNNE 33 
 
 and Friends, and meanwhile searched his pockets 
 and brought out a guinea. This my father dropped 
 into his breeches pocket, saying, "The shilling will 
 be for interest" (a guinea being a shilling over a 
 king s pound). After this, turning to me, he said, 
 " Come with me, Hugh," and went out of the school- 
 house, I following after, very well pleased, and think 
 ing of my guinea. I dared not ask for it, and I 
 think he forgot it. He went along homeward, with 
 his head bent and his hands behind his back. In 
 common, he walked with his head up and his chin set 
 forward, as though he did a little look down on the 
 world of other men j and this in truth he did, being 
 at least six feet three inches in his stocking-feet, and 
 with no lack of proportion in waist or chest. 
 
 Next day I asked my mother of my guinea, but she 
 laughed gaily, and threw up her hands, and cried, " A 
 bad debt ! a bad debt, Hugh ! Dost thou want more 
 interest ? My father used to say they had a proverb 
 in the Midi, i If the devil owe thee money it were 
 best to lose it. Le didble! Oh, what am I saying ? 
 Mon fils, forget thy debt. What did thy father say T " 
 And I told it again to her amusement ; but she said 
 at last, very seriously : 
 
 "It has disturbed thy father as never before did 
 anything since he would not join with Friend Brad 
 ford against the Stamp Act. I would I had seen him 
 then, or this time. I like sometimes to see a strong 
 man in just anger. Oh, mon Dieu ! what did I 
 say ! I am but half a Quaker, I fear." My mother 
 never would turn away from the creed of her peo- 
 
34 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 pie, but she did not altogether fancy the ways of 
 Friends. 
 
 "Eh, mon fits, sometimes I say naughty words. 
 Give me a sweet little pat on the cheek for my bad 
 ness, and always come to me with all thy troubles." 
 Then I kissed her, and we went out to play hide-and- 
 find in the orchard. 
 
 My father s grim, sarcastic humour left him as 
 years went on, and he became as entirely serious 
 as I ever knew a man to be. I think on this occa 
 sion his after-annoyance, which endured for days, 
 was more because of having threatened Dove than 
 for any other cause. He no doubt regarded me as 
 the maker of the mischief which had tempted him 
 for a moment to forget himself, and for many a day 
 his unjust severity proved that he did not readily 
 forgive. But so it was always. My mother never 
 failed to understand me, which my father seemed 
 rarely able to do. If I did ill he used the strap with 
 little mercy, but neither in these early years, nor in 
 those which followed, did he ever give me a word of 
 praise. Many years afterward I found a guinea in a 
 folded paper, laid away in my father s desk. On the 
 outer cover he had written, " This belongs to Hugh. 
 He were better without it." 
 
 My mother scarce ever let slip her little French ex 
 pletives or phrases in my father s hearing. He hated 
 all French things, and declared the language did not 
 ring true that it was a slippery tongue, in which it 
 was easy to lie. A proud, strong man he was in 
 those days, of fixed beliefs, and of unchanging loy- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 35 
 
 alty to the king. In his own house he was feared by 
 his son, his clerks, and his servants j but not by my 
 mother, who charmed him, as she did all other men, 
 and had in most things her desire. 
 
 Outside of his own walls few men cared to oppose 
 him. He was rich, and coldly despotic ; a man exact 
 and just in business, but well able, and as willing, to 
 help with a free hand whatever cause was of interest 
 to Friends. My Aunt Gainor, a little his senior, was 
 one of the few over whom he had no manner of con 
 trol. She went her own way, and it was by no means 
 his way, as I shall make more clear by and by. 
 
 Two days later I was taken to the academy, or the 
 college, as some called it, which is now the university. 
 My father wrote my name, as you may see it in the 
 catalogue, and his own signature, with the date of 6th 
 ninth 4th, 1763. Beneath it is the entry of John War 
 der and his father, Joseph ; for Jack had also been 
 removed from Dove s dominion because of what my 
 father said to Joseph, a man always pliable, and ad 
 vised to do what larger men thought good. Thus it 
 came about that my friend Jack and I were by good 
 fortune kept in constant relation. Our schoolmate, 
 the small maid so slight of limb, so dark and tearful, 
 was soon sent away to live with an aunt in Bristol, 
 on the Delaware, having become an orphan by the 
 death of her mother. Thus it came about that Dar- 
 thea Peniston passed out of my life for many years, 
 having been, through the accident of her tenderness, 
 the means for me of a complete and fortunate change. 
 
Ill 
 
 |HE academy was, and still is, a plain 
 brick building, set back from Fourth 
 street, and having a large gravelled space 
 in front and also at the back. The main 
 school-room occupied its whole westward 
 length, and upstairs was a vast room, with bare joists 
 above, in which, by virtue of the deed of gift, any 
 Christian sect was free to worship if temporarily de 
 prived of a home. Here the great Whitefield preached, 
 and here generations of boys were taught. Behind 
 the western playground was the graveyard of Christ 
 Church. He was thought a brave lad who, after 
 school at dusk in winter, dared to climb over and 
 search around the tombs of the silent dead for a lost 
 ball or what not. 
 
 I was mightily afraid of the academy. The birch 
 was used often and with severity, and, as I soon 
 found, there was war between the boys and the 
 town fellows who lived to north and east. I was 
 also to discover other annoyances quite as little to 
 the taste of Friends, such as stone fights or snowball 
 skirmishes. Did time permit, I should like well to 
 linger long over this school life. The college, as it 
 
 36 
 
HUGH WYNNE 37 
 
 was officially called, had a great reputation, and its 
 early catalogues are rich with names of those who 
 made an empire. This task I leave to other pens, 
 and hasten to tell my own personal story. 
 
 In my friend Jack Warder s journal there is a kind 
 page or two as to what manner of lad I was in his 
 remembrance of me in after-years. I like to think 
 it was a true picture. 
 
 "When Hugh Wynne and I went to school at 
 the academy on Fourth street, south of Arch, I used 
 to envy him his strength. At twelve he was as tall 
 as are most lads at sixteen, but possessed of such 
 activity and muscular power as are rarely seen, bid 
 ding fair to attain, as he did later, the height and 
 massive build of his father. He was a great lover 
 of risk, and not, as I have always been, fearful. 
 When we took apples, after the fashion of all Adam s 
 young descendants, he was as like as not to give 
 them away. I think he went with us on these, and 
 some wilder errands, chiefly because of his fondness 
 for danger, a thing I could never comprehend. He 
 still has his mother s great eyes of blue, and a fair, 
 clear skin. God bless him! Had I never known 
 him I might perhaps have been, as to one thing, a 
 happier man, but I had been less deserving of such 
 good fortune as has come to me in life. For this is 
 one of the uses of friends : that we consider how such 
 and such a thing we are moved to do might appear 
 to them. And this for one of my kind, who have 
 had nay, who have many weaknesses, has been 
 why Hugh Wynne counts for so much to me. 
 
38 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " We, with two other smaller boys, were, at that 
 time, the only sons of Friends at the academy, and 
 were, thanks to the brute Dove, better grounded in 
 the humanities than were some, although we were 
 late in entering." 
 
 I leave this and other extracts as they were writ. 
 A more upright gentleman than John Warder I 
 know not, nor did ever know. What he meant by 
 his weaknesses I cannot tell, and as to the meaning 
 of one phrase, which he does not here explain, these 
 pages shall perhaps discover. 
 
 Not long after our entrance at the academy, my 
 father charged me one morning with a note to my 
 aunt, Gainor Wynne, which I was to deliver when 
 the morning session was over. As this would make 
 me late, in case her absence delayed a reply, I was 
 to remain and eat my midday meal. My father was 
 loath always to call upon his sister. She had early 
 returned to the creed of her ancestors, and sat on 
 Sundays in a great square pew at Christ Church, to 
 listen to the Rev. Robert Jennings. Hither, in Sep 
 tember of 1763, my aunt took me, to my father s in 
 dignation, to hear the great Mr. Whiten eld preach. 
 
 Neither Aunt Gainor s creed, dress, house, nor 
 society pleased her brother. She had early made 
 clear, in her decisive way, that I was to be her heir, 
 and she was, I may add, a woman of large estate. I 
 was allowed to visit her as I pleased. Indeed, I did 
 so often. Hiked no one better, always excepting my 
 mother. Why, with my father s knowledge of her 
 views, I was thus left free I cannot say. He was 
 
HUGH WYNNE 39 
 
 the last of men to sacrifice his beliefs to motives 
 of gain. 
 
 When I knocked at the door of her house on Arch 
 street, opposite the Friends Meeting-house, a black 
 boy, dressed as a page, let me in. He was clad in 
 gray armozine, a sort of corded stuff, with red but 
 tons, and he wore a red turban. As my aunt was 
 gone to drive, on a visit to that Madam Penn who 
 was once Miss Allen, I was in no hurry, and was 
 glad to look about me. The parlour, a great room 
 with three windows on the street, afforded a strange 
 contrast to my sober home. There were Smyrna 
 rugs on a polished floor, a thing almost unheard of. 
 Indeed, people came to see them. The furniture was 
 all of red walnut, and carved in shells and flower re 
 liefs. There were so many tables, little and larger, 
 with claw-feet or spindle-legs, that one had to be 
 careful not to overturn their loads of Chinese drag 
 ons, ivory carvings, grotesque Delft beasts, and fans, 
 French or Spanish or of the Orient. There was also 
 a spinet, and a corner closet of books, of which 
 every packet brought her a variety. Upstairs was a 
 fair room full of volumes, big and little, as I found 
 to my joy rather later, and these were of all kinds : 
 some good, and some of them queer, or naughty. 
 Over the wide, white fireplace was a portrait of her 
 self by the elder Peale, but I prefer the one now in 
 my library. This latter hung, at the time I speak of, 
 between the windows. It was significant of my aunt s 
 idea of her own importance that she should have 
 wished to possess two portraits of herself. The lat- 
 
40 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 ter was painted by Sir Joshua Reynolds when she 
 was in England in 1750, and represents her as a fine, 
 large woman with features which were too big for 
 loveliness in youth, but in after-years went well with 
 her abundant gray hair and unusual stature ; for, like 
 the rest of us, she was tall, of vigorous and whole 
 some build and colour, with large, well-shaped hands, 
 and the strength of a man I might add, too, with 
 the independence of a man. She went her own 
 way, conducted the business of her estate, which 
 was ample, with skill and ability, and asked advice 
 from no one. Like my father, she had a liking to 
 control those about her, was restlessly busy, and 
 was never so pleased as when engaged in arranging 
 other people s lives, or meddling with the making 
 of matches. 
 
 To this ample and luxurious house came the bet 
 ter class of British officers, and ombre and quadrille 
 were often, I fear, played late into the long nights of 
 winter. Single women, after a certain or uncertain 
 age, were given a brevet title of ." Mistress." Mis 
 tress Gainor Wynne lost or won with the coolness of 
 an old gambler, and this habit, perhaps more than 
 aught beside, troubled my father. Sincere and con 
 sistent in his views, I can hardly think that my 
 father was, after all, unable to resist the worldly ad 
 vantages which my aunt declared should be mine. 
 It was, in fact, difficult to keep me out of the obvi 
 ous risks this house and company provided for a 
 young person like myself. He must have trusted to 
 the influence of my home to keep me in the ways of 
 
HUGH WYNNE 41 
 
 Friends. It is also to be remembered, as regards my 
 father s motives, that my Aunt Gainor was my only 
 relative, since of the Owens none were left. 
 
 My mother was a prime favourite with this master 
 ful lady. She loved nothing better than to give her 
 fine silk petticoats or a pearl-coloured satin gown j and 
 if this should nowadays amaze Friends, let them but 
 look in the " Observer/ and see what manner of fin 
 ery was advertised in 1778 as stole from our friend, 
 Sarah Fisher, sometime Sarah Logan, a much re 
 spected member of Meeting. In this, as in all else, 
 my mother had her way, and, like some of the 
 upper class of Quakers, wore at times such raiment 
 as fifty years later would have surely brought about 
 a visit from a committee of overseers. 
 
 Waiting for Aunt Gainor, I fell upon an open 
 parcel of books just come by the late spring packet. 
 Among these turned up a new and fine edition of 
 " Captain Gulliver s Travels," by Mr. Dean Swift. I 
 lit first, among these famous adventures, on an ex 
 traordinary passage, so wonderful, indeed, and so 
 amusing, that I heard not the entrance of my father, 
 who at the door had met my aunt, and with her some 
 fine ladies of the governor s set. There were Mrs. 
 Ferguson, too well known in the politics of later 
 years, but now only a beautiful and gay woman, 
 Madam Allen, and Madam Chew, the wife of the 
 Attorney-General. 
 
 They were eagerly discussing, and laughingly in 
 quiring of my father, what colour of masks for the 
 street was to be preferred. He was in no wise em- 
 
42 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 barrassed by these fine dames, and never, to my 
 thinking, was seen to better advantage than among 
 what he called " world s people. 77 He seemed to me 
 more really at home than among Friends, and as he 
 towered, tall, and gravely courteous in manner, I 
 thought him a grand gentleman. 
 
 As I looked up, the young Miss Chew, who after 
 ward married Colonel Eager Howard, was saying 
 saucily, " Does not Madam Wynne wear a mask for 
 her skin ? It is worth keeping, Mr. Wynne." 
 
 " Let me recommend to you a vizard with silver 
 buttons to hold in the mouth, or, better, a riding- 
 mask/ 7 cried Aunt Grainor, pleased at this gentle 
 badgering, "like this, John. See, a flat silver plate 
 to hold between the teeth. It is the last thing. 77 
 
 " White silk would suit her best, 7 cried Mrs. Fergu 
 son, "or green, with a chin-curtain a loo-mask. 
 Which would you have, sir? 77 
 
 "Indeed, 77 he said quietly, "her skin is good enough. 
 I know no way to better it. 77 
 
 Then they all laughed, pelting the big man with 
 many questions, until he could not help but laugh, 
 as he declared he was overwhelmed, and would come 
 on his business another day. But on this the women 
 would not stay, and took themselves and their high 
 bonnets and many petticoats out of the room, each 
 dropping a curtsey at the door, and he bowing low, 
 like Mr. John Penn, as never before I had seen 
 him do. 
 
 No sooner were they gone than he desired me to 
 give him the note he had written to his sister, since 
 
HUGH WYNNE 43 
 
 now it was not needed, and then he inquired what 
 book I was reading. Aunt Gainor glanced at it, and 
 replied for me, "A book of travels, John, very im 
 proving too. Take it home, Hugh, and read it. If 
 you find in it no improprieties, it may be recom 
 mended to your father." She loved nothing better 
 than to tease him. 
 
 " I see not what harm there could be in travels," 
 he returned. " Thou hast my leave. Gainor, what 
 is this I hear ? Thou wouldst have had me sell thee 
 for a venture threescore hogsheads of tobacco from 
 Annapolis. I like not to trade with my sister, nor 
 that she should trade at all ; and now, when I have 
 let them go to another, I hear that it is thou who 
 art the real buyer. I came hither to warn thee that 
 other cargoes are to arrive. Thou wilt lose." 
 
 Aunt Gainor said nothing for a moment, but let 
 loose the linen safeguard petticoat she wore against 
 mud or dust when riding, and appeared in a rich bro 
 cade of gray silken stuff, and a striped under-gown. 
 When she had put off her loose camlet over- jacket, 
 she said, " Will you have a glass of Madeira, or shall 
 it be Hollands, John ? Ring the beU, Hugh." 
 
 " Hollands," said my father. 
 
 " What will you give me for your tobacco to-day, 
 John?" 
 
 " Why dost thou trifle ? " he returned. 
 
 " I sold it again, John. I am the better by an hun 
 dred pounds. Two tobacco-ships are wrecked on 
 Hinlopen. An express is come. Have you not 
 heard?" 
 
44 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " Farewell/ he said, rising. He made no comment 
 on her news. I had an idea that he would not have 
 been unhappy had she lost on her venture. 
 
 Joseph Warder was her agent then and afterward. 
 She rarely lost on her purchases. Although gener 
 ous, and even lavish, she dearly loved a good bar 
 gain, and, I believe, liked the game far more than she 
 cared for success in the playing of it. 
 
 "Come, Hugh," she said, "let us eat and drink. 
 Take the book home, and put it away for your own 
 reading. Here is sixpence out of my gains. I hope 
 you will never need to trade, and, indeed, why should 
 you, whether I live or die ? How would the king s 
 service suit you, and a pair of colours ? " 
 
 I said I should like it. 
 
 " There is a pretty tale, Hugh, of the French gen 
 tlemen, who, being poor, have to make money in com 
 merce. They leave their swords with a magistrate, 
 and when they are become rich enough take them 
 back again. There is some pleasing ceremony, but 
 I forget. The Wynnes have been long enough in 
 drab and trade. It is time we took back our swords, 
 and quitted bow-thouing and bow-theeing." 
 
 I said I did not understand. 
 
 "Oh, you will, 7 said Aunt Gainor, giving me a 
 great apple-dumpling. " Take some molasses. Oh, 
 as much as you please. I shall look away, as I do 
 when the gentlemen take their rum." 
 
 You may be sure I obeyed her. As to much that 
 she said, I was shocked ; but I never could resist a 
 laugh, and so we made merry like children, as was 
 
HUGH WYNNE 45 
 
 usual, for, as she used to say, "To learn when to 
 laugh and when not to laugh is an education." 
 
 When my meal was over, and my stomach and my 
 pockets all full, Aunt Gainor bade me sit on her 
 knees, and began to tell me about what fine gentle 
 men were the Wynnes, and how foolish my grand 
 father had been to turn Quaker and give up fox-hunt 
 ing and the old place. I was told, too, how much she 
 had lost to Mr. Penn last night, and more that was 
 neither well for me to hear nor wise for her to tell j 
 but as to this she cared little, and she sent me away 
 then, as far too many times afterward, full of my own 
 importance, and of desire to escape some day from 
 the threatened life of the ledger and the day-book. 
 
 At last she said, " You are getting too heavy, Hugh. 
 Handsome Mrs. Ferguson says you are too big to be 
 kissed, and not old enough to kiss," and so she bade 
 me go forth to the afternoon session of the academy. 
 
 After two weeks at the academy I got my first 
 lesson in the futility of non-resistance, so that all 
 the lessons of my life in favour of this doctrine were, 
 of a sudden, rendered vain. We were going home in 
 the afternoon, gay and happy, Jack Warder to take 
 supper with me, and to use a boat my aunt had 
 given me. 
 
 Near to High street was a vacant lot full of bushes 
 and briers. Here the elder lads paused, and one said, 
 " Wynne, you are to fight." 
 
 I replied, " Why should I fight ? I will not." 
 
 " But it is to get your standing in the school, and 
 Tom Alloway is to fight you." 
 
46 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " This was a famous occasion in our lives," writes 
 my friend Jack j " for, consider : I, who was a girl for 
 timidity, was sure to have my turn next, and here 
 were we two little fellows, who had heard every First- 
 day, and ever and ever at home, that all things were 
 to be suffered of all men (and of boys too, I presume). 
 I was troubled for Hugh, but I noticed that while he 
 said he would not fight he was buttoning up his jacket 
 and turning back the cuff of one sleeve. Also he 
 smiled as he said, No, I cannot; 7 and many times 
 since I have seen him merry in danger. 
 
 " For, of a truth, never later did he or I feel the 
 sense of a great peril as we did that day, with the 
 bigger boys hustling us, and Alloway crying, l Cow 
 ard ! I looked about for some man who would help 
 us, but there was no one ; only a cow hobbled near 
 by. She looked up, and then went on chewing her 
 cud. I, standing behind Hugh, said, l Run ! run ! 
 
 "The counsel seemed good to me who gave it. 
 As I think on it now, I was in great perplexity of 
 soul, and had a horrible fear as to bodily hurt. I 
 turned, followed by Hugh, and ran fleetly across the 
 open ground and through the bushes. About mid 
 way I looked back. Two lads were near upon us, 
 when I saw Hugh drop upon his hands and knees. 
 Both fellows rolled over him, and he called out, as 
 they fell to beating him, i Run, Jack ! 
 
 " But I was no longer so minded. I kicked one boy, 
 and struck another, and even now recall how a strange 
 joy captured me when I struck the first blow." 
 
 There was a fine scrimmage, for no quarter was 
 
HUGH WYNNE 47 
 
 asked or given, and I saw my poor Jack s girl face 
 bloody. This was the last I remember clearly, for the 
 lust of battle was on me, and I can recall no more of 
 what chanced for a little, than I could in later years 
 of the wild melley on the main street of Germantown, 
 or of the struggle in the redoubt at Yorktown. 
 
 Presently we were cast to right and left by a strong 
 hand, and, looking up, as I stood fierce and panting, 
 I saw Friend Eupert Forest, and was overwhelmed 
 with fear ; for often on First-day I had heard him 
 preach solemnly, and always it was as to turning the 
 other cheek, and on the wickedness of profane lan 
 guage. Just now he seemed pleased rather than 
 angered, and said, smiling: 
 
 " This is a big war, boys. What is it about ? n 
 
 I said, " I must fight for my standing, and I will 
 not." 
 
 "I think thou wert scarcely of that mind just 
 now. There will be bad blood until it is over." 
 
 To this I replied, " It is Alloway I am to fight." 
 
 To my surprise, he went on to say, " Then take off 
 thy jacket and stand up, and no kicking." 
 
 I asked nothing better, and began to laugh. At 
 this my foe, who was bigger and older than I, cried 
 out that I would laugh on the other side of my 
 mouth a queer boy phrase of which I could never 
 discover the meaning. 
 
 " And now, fair play," said Friend Forest. " Keep 
 cool, Hugh, and watch his eyes." 
 
 I felt glad that he was on my side, and we fell to 
 with no more words. I was no match for the prac- 
 
48 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 tised fists of my antagonist ; but I was the stronger, 
 and I kept my wits better than might have been ex 
 pected. At last I got his head under my arm with a 
 grip on his gullet, and so mauled him with my right 
 fist that Friend Forest pulled me away, and my man 
 staggered back, bloody, and white too, while I was 
 held like a dog in leash. 
 
 " He hath enough, I think. Ask him." 
 I cried out, " No ! Damn him ! " It was my first 
 oath. 
 
 " Hush ! n cried Forest. " No profane language." 
 " I will not speak to him," said I, " and and he 
 is a beast of the pit." Now this fine statement I 
 had come upon in a book of Mr. William Penn s my 
 father owned, wherein the governor had denounced 
 one Mr. Muggleton. 
 
 Friend Forest laughed merrily. " Thou hast thy 
 standing, lad." For Alloway walked sullenly away, 
 not man enough to take more or to confess defeat. 
 Jack, who was still white, said : 
 
 " It is my turn now, and which shall it be ? " 
 " Shade of Fox ! " cried Friend Forest. " The war 
 is over. Come, boys, I must see you well out of this/ 7 
 And so reassuring us, he went down Fourth street; 
 and to my home. 
 
 My father was in the sitting-room, taking his long- 
 stemmed reed pipe at his ease. He rose as we fol 
 lowed Friend Forest into the room. 
 
 " "Well," he said, " what coil is this ? " For we were 
 bloody, and hot with fight and wrath, and, as to our 
 garments, in very sad disorder. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 49 
 
 Friend Forest very quietly related our story, and 
 made much of his own share in the renewal of our 
 battle. To my surprise, my father smiled. 
 
 " It seems plain/ 7 he said, " that the lads were not 
 to blame. But how wilt thou answer to the Meet 
 ing, Rupert Forest ? " 
 
 " To it, to thee, to any man," said the Quaker. 
 
 "It is but a month ago that thy case was before 
 Friends because of thy having beaten Friend Wain s 
 man. It will go ill with thee ill, I fear." 
 
 " And who is to spread it abroad ? " 
 
 "Not I," said my father. 
 
 " I knew that," returned the Friend, simply. " I 
 am but a jack-in-the-box Quaker, John. I am in and 
 out in a moment, and then I go back and repent." 
 
 " Let us hope so. Go to thy mother, Hugh ; and 
 as to thee, John Warder, wait until I send with thee 
 a note to thy father. There are liquors on the table, 
 Friend Forest." 
 
 My mother set us in order, and cried a little, and 
 said: 
 
 " I am glad he was well beaten. Thou shouldst 
 never fight, my son j but if thou must, let it be so 
 that thy adversary repent of it. Mon Dieu! mon 
 Dim I fen ai peur; the wild Welsh blood of these 
 Wynnes ! And thy poor little nose how 7 t is 
 swelled ! " 
 
 Not understanding her exclamations, Jack said as 
 much, but she answered : 
 
 " Oh, it is a fashion of speech we French have. I 
 shall never be cured of it, I fear. This wild blood 
 
50 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 what will come of it?" And she seemed as Jack 
 writes long after, being more observing than I as 
 if she were looking away into the distance of time, 
 thinking of what might come to pass. She had, 
 indeed, strange insight, and even then, as I knew 
 later, had her fears and unspoken anxieties. And 
 so, with a plentiful supper, ended a matter which 
 was, I may say, a critical point in my life. 
 
IV 
 
 FTER this my days went by more peace 
 fully. The help and example of Jack 
 assisted me greatly in my lessons, which 
 I did little relish. I was more fond of 
 reading, and devoured many books as I 
 sat under our orchard trees in the spring, or nestled 
 up to the fire on the long winter evenings, coiled on 
 the settle, that its high back might keep oif drafts. 
 My aunt lent me an abundance of books after that 
 famous " Travels n of Mr. Gulliver. Now and then 
 my father looked at what she gave me, but he soon 
 tired of this, and fell asleep in the great oak chair 
 which Governor Penn gave my grandfather. 
 
 Many volumes, and some queer ones, I fell upon in 
 my aunt s house, but, save once, as to the naughti 
 ness of Mrs. Aphra Behn, she never interfered. We 
 liked greatly a book called " Peter Wilkins," by one 
 Paltock, full of a queer folk, who had winged " graun- 
 dees," a sort of crimson robe made of folds of their 
 own skin. None read it now. My dear Jack fancied 
 it much more than I. 
 
 I was nigh to fifteen before we read "Bobinson 
 Crusoe," but even earlier I devoured at my aunt s 
 
 51 
 
52 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "Captain Jack" and "The History of the Devil. 
 The former book filled us with delight. Jack and 
 I used to row over to Windmill Island, on the great 
 Delaware, and there at the south end we built a hut, 
 and slew bullfrogs, and found steps on the sand, I 
 being thereafter Friday, and Jack my master. We 
 made, too, a sail and mast for my boat, and, thus 
 aided, sailed of Saturdays up and down the noble 
 river, which I have always loved. 
 
 A still greater joy was to go in our chaise with my 
 mother to the governor s woods, which extended from 
 Broad street to the Schuylkill, and from Callowhill 
 to South street. There we tied the horse, and under 
 the great trees we found in spring arbutus, even be 
 neath the snow, and later fetched thence turkey-foot 
 ferns, and wild honeysuckle, and quaker-ladies, with 
 jack-in-the-pulpits and fearful gray corpse-lights hid 
 away in the darker woods. In the forest my mother 
 seemed even younger than at home, and played with 
 us, and told us quaint tales of her French people, or 
 fairy stories of Giant Jack and others, which were 
 by no means such as Friends approved. 
 
 In our house one same stern, unbending rule pre 
 vailed. I have been told by my aunt, Gainor Wynne, 
 that when he was young my father was not always so 
 steadfast in conduct as to satisfy Friends. When I 
 was old enough to observe and think, he had surely 
 become strict enough; but this severity of opinion 
 and action increased with years, and showed in ways 
 which made life difficult for those near to him. In 
 fact, before I attained manhood the tinted arms and 
 
HUGH WYNNE 53 
 
 the picture of Wyncote were put away in the attic 
 room. My mother s innocent love of ornament also 
 became to him a serious annoyance, and these pecu 
 liarities seemed at last to deepen whenever the polit 
 ical horizon darkened. At such times he became 
 silent, and yet more keen than usual to detect and 
 denounce anything in our home life which was not 
 to his liking. 
 
 The affairs of a young fellow between the ages of 
 childhood and younger manhood can have but meagre 
 interest. Our school life went on, and while we 
 worked or played, our elders saw the ever-increas 
 ing differences between king and colonies becoming 
 year by year more difficult of adjustment. Except 
 when some noisy crisis arose, they had for us lads 
 but little interest. 
 
 Most people used the city landings, or lightered 
 their goods from ships in the stream. We, however, 
 had a great dock built out near to the mouth of Dock 
 Creek, and a warehouse. Hither came sloops from 
 my father s plantation of tobacco, near Annapolis, 
 and others from the "permitted islands," the Cape 
 de Verde and the Madeiras. Staves for barrels, 
 tobacco, and salt fish were the exports, and in return 
 came Eastern goods brought to these islands, and 
 huge tuns of Madeira wine. Rum, too, arrived from 
 New England, and salted mackerel. What else my 
 father imported, of French goods or tea, reached us 
 from England, for we were not allowed to trade with 
 the continent of Europe nor directly with India. 
 
 Once my father took me with him to Lewes, near 
 
54 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Cape Hinlopen, on one of his ships, and to my joy we 
 were met there by Tom,our black slave, with horses, and 
 rode back during two days by Newcastle and Chester. 
 As I rode ill, of course, and was sore for a week, my 
 father thought it well that I should learn to ride, and 
 this exercise I took to easily. Just before I was six 
 teen my aunt gave me a horse, and after we had sep 
 arated abruptly a few times, and no harm to any, I 
 became the master, and soon an expert rider, as was 
 needful in a land where most long journeys were 
 made on horseback. 
 
 It seems to me now, as I look back, that the events 
 of life were preparing me and my friend Jack for 
 what was to follow. Our boating made every part 
 of the two rivers familiar. Now that I had a horse, 
 Jack s father, who would always do for him readily 
 what my Aunt Gainor did for me, yielded to his 
 desire to ride ; and so it was that we began, as lei 
 sure served, to extend our rides to Germantown, or 
 even to Chestnut Hill. Thus all the outlying coun 
 try became well known to both of us, and there was 
 not a road, a brook, or a hill which we did not know. 
 
 Until this happy time I had been well pleased to 
 follow my aunt on a pillion behind her servant, 
 Caesar, but now I often went with her, perched on 
 my big horse, and got from my aunt, an excellent 
 horsewoman, some snarp lessons as to leaping, and 
 certain refinements in riding that she had seen or 
 known of in London. 
 
 A Captain Montresor he who afterward, when a 
 colonel, was Howe s engineer used to ride with her 
 
HUGH WYNNE 55 
 
 in the spring of 69. He was a tall, stout man of 
 middle age, and much spoken of as likely to marry 
 my Aunt Gainor, although she was older than he, 
 for, as fat Oliver de Lancey said years after, " There 
 is no age to a woman s money, and guineas are al 
 ways young." My aunt, Gainor Wynne, was still a 
 fine gentlewoman, and did not look her years. As 
 concerned this question of age, she was like a man, 
 and so in fact she was in some other ways. She 
 would tell any one how old she was. She once in 
 formed Mr. de Lancey that she was so much more of 
 a man than any British officer she knew that she did 
 not see how she could decently marry any of them. 
 
 I think it was about this time that I saw a little 
 scene which much impressed me, and which often re 
 curs to my memory. We that is, Mr. Montresor, and 
 my Aunt Gainor and I of a Saturday afternoon rode 
 over by the lower ferry and up Gray s Lane, and so 
 to Mr. Hamilton s country-seat. " The Woodlands," 
 as it was called, stood on a hill amid many beautiful 
 trees and foreign shrubs and flowers. Below it ran 
 the quiet Schuylkill, and beyond, above the gover 
 nor s woods, could be seen far away Dr. Kearsley s 
 fine spire of Christ Church. No better did Master 
 Wren himself ever contrive, or more proportioned to 
 the edifice beneath it. 
 
 On the porch were Mr. Hamilton and Mrs. Penn, 
 with saucy gray eyes, and Mrs. Ferguson. A slim 
 young girl, Rebecca Franks, was teasing a cat. She 
 teased some one all her days, and did it merrily, and 
 not unkindly. She was little and very pretty, with a 
 
56 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 dark skin. Did she dream she should marry a Brit 
 ish soldier a baronet and general and end her 
 days in London well on in the century yet to come ? 
 
 Andrew Allen, whose father, the chief justice, 
 took his wife, Margaret, from this house, sat on the 
 steps near Miss Franks, and beside her little Peggy 
 Shippen, who already gave promise of the beauty 
 which won for her so pitiful a life. Nothing in 
 this garden of gay women and flowers foretold the 
 tragedy of West Point. I think of it now with sad 
 wonder. 
 
 In one or another way these people became known 
 in our annals. Most of them were of the more exclu 
 sive party known as the governor s set, and belonged 
 to the Church of England. With the Galloways, 
 Cadwaladers, Willings, Shippens, Rawles, and others, 
 they formed a more or less distinct society, affecting 
 London ways, dining at the extreme hour of four, 
 loving cards, the dance, fox-hunting, and to see a 
 main of garne-cocks. Among them not of them 
 came and went certain of what were called "gen 
 teel" Quakers Morrises, Pembertons, Whartons, 
 and Logans. They had races too, that is, the gov 
 ernor s set, and one of my delights was, on the way 
 to the academy, to stop in Third street, above Chest 
 nut, and see the race-horses in the Widow Nichols s 
 stables at the sign of the Indian Queen. 
 
 But I have left the laughter of the last century 
 echoing among the columns of Andrew Hamilton s 
 home. The guests were made welcome, and had a dish 
 of tea or a glass of punch j and those desiring no more 
 
TJNIVERS 
 HUGH WYNNE 57 ^=^ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 bohea set a spoon across the cup, and fell into groups. 
 My aunt opened the velvet bag which hung at her 
 waist, to pay Mrs. Ferguson a small gambling debt 
 of the night before. 
 
 " Ah, here ! " she cried gaily, " Mr. Montresor, this 
 is for you. One of Mr. Grenville s stamps j I kept 
 two. I was lucky enough to get them from Master 
 Hughes, the stamp officer a great curiosity. You 
 shall have one." 
 
 Mr. Montresor bowed. " I will keep it," he said, 
 " until it comes into use again," 
 
 " That will be never, 7 said Andrew Allen, turning. 
 
 "Never ! " repeated Miss Wynne. "Let us hope, 
 sir, it may be a lesson to all future ministers." 
 
 " A man was wanted in New York in place of Mr. 
 Gage," cried Mrs. Ferguson. " As to those New Eng 
 land Puritans, they were in rebellion before they 
 came over, and have been ever since." 
 
 " And what of New York, and this town, and Vir 
 ginia " said my Aunt Gainor, with her great nose 
 well up. 
 
 " I would have put an end to their disloyal ways, 
 one and all," cried Mrs. Ferguson. 
 
 " It is curious," said Mr. Galloway, " that the crown 
 should be so thwarted. What people have more rea 
 son to be contented " 
 
 " Contented !" said Miss Wynne. " Already they 
 talk of taxes in which we are to have no voice. Con 
 tented ! and not a ship dare trade with France. It 
 amazes me that there is a man in the plantations to 
 sit quiet under it." 
 
58 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " I am of your opinion, madam/ said Mr. Mac- 
 pherson, "and I might go still further." 
 
 " They consider us as mere colonials, and we may 
 not so much as have a bishop of our own. I would 
 I had my way, sir." 
 
 "And what would you do, Mistress Wynne?" 
 asked Mr. Chew. 
 
 " I would say, Mr. Attorney-General, give us the 
 same liberty all the English have, to go and come on 
 the free seas ! 7 
 
 " And if not ? " said Montresor, smiling. 
 
 "And if not," she returned, "then" and she 
 touched the sword at his side. I wondered to see 
 how resolute she looked. 
 
 The captain smiled. "I hope you will not com 
 mand a regiment, madam." 
 
 "Would to God I could!" 
 
 "I should run," he cried, laughing. And thus 
 pleasantly ended a talk which was becoming bitter 
 to many of this gay company. 
 
 Destiny was already sharpening the sword we were 
 soon to draw, and of those who met and laughed that 
 day there were sons who were to be set against 
 fathers, and brothers whom war was to find in hos 
 tile ranks. A young fellow of my age, the son of 
 Mr. Macpherson, sat below us on the steps with the 
 girls. He was to leave his young life on the bastion 
 at Quebec, and, for myself, how little did I dream of 
 what I should get out of the devil-pot of war which 
 was beginning to simmer ! 
 
 Very soon I was sent with Rebecca Franks and 
 
HUGH WYNNE 59 
 
 Miss Chew to gather flowers. Miss Franks evidently 
 despised my youth, and between the two little maids 
 I, being unused to girls, had not a pleasant time, and 
 was glad to get back to the porch, where we stood 
 silent until bidden to be seated, upon which the girls 
 curtseyed and I bowed, and then sat down to eat 
 cakes and drink syllabub. 
 
 At last my aunt put on her safeguard petticoat, 
 the horses came, and we rode away. For a while she 
 was silent, answering the captain in monosyllables ; 
 but just beyond the ferry his horse cast a shoe, and 
 went so lame that the officer must needs return to 
 Woodlands leading him, there to ask a new mount. 
 
 For yet a while my aunt rode on without a word, 
 but at last she began to rally me as to Miss Chew. 
 I had to confess I cared not for her or the other, or, 
 indeed, for maids at all. 
 
 " It will come," said she. " Oh, it will come soon 
 enough. Peggy Chew has the better manners. And, 
 by the way, sir, when you bow, keep your back 
 straight. Mr. Montresor has a pretty way of it. 
 Observe him, Hugh. But he is a fool, and so are 
 the rest ; and as for Betty Ferguson, I should like to 
 lay a whip over her back like that," and she hit my 
 horse sharply, poor thing, so that I lost a stirrup 
 and came near to falling. 
 
 When the beast got quiet I asked why these nice 
 people, who had such pleasant ways, were all fools. 
 
 " I will tell you," she said. " There are many and 
 constant causes of trouble between us and the king. 
 When one ends, like this Stamp Act, another is 
 
60 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 hatched. It was the best of us who left England, 
 and we are trained to rely on ourselves, and have 
 no need of England. You will live to see dark days, 
 Hugh just what, God alone can tell; but you will 
 live to see them, and your life will have to answer 
 some questions. This may seem strange to you, my 
 lad, but it will come." 
 
 What would come I knew not. She said no more, 
 but rode homeward at speed, as she liked best to do. 
 
 Thus time went by, until I was full sixteen, having 
 been at the college a year later than was usual. I 
 had few battles to fight, and contrived to keep these 
 to myself, or to get patched up at my Aunt Wynne s, 
 who delighted to hear of these conflicts, and always 
 gave me a shilling to heal my wounds. My dear, 
 fair-haired Jack, Aunt Gainor thought a girl-boy, 
 and fit only to sell goods, or, at best, to become a 
 preacher. His father she used and disliked. 
 
 Meanwhile we had been through Horace and 
 Cicero, and Ovid for our moral improvement, I 
 suppose, with Virgil and Sallust, and at last Caesar, 
 whom alone of them all I liked. Indeed, Jack and 
 I built over a brook in my Aunt Gainor s garden at 
 Chestnut Hill a fair model of Cesar s great bridge 
 over the Rhine. This admired product of our in 
 genuity was much praised by Captain Montresor, 
 who was well aware of my aunt s weakness for a 
 certain young person. 
 
 My father s decisions came always without warn 
 ing. In the fall of 1769 I was just gone back to the 
 academy, and put to work at mathematics and some 
 
HUGH WYNNE 61 
 
 Greek under James Wilson, at that period one of the 
 tutors, and some time later an associate judge of 
 the Supreme Court. This great statesman and law 
 yer of after-days was a most delightful teacher. He 
 took a fancy to my Jack, and, as we were insepa 
 rable, put up with my flippancy and deficient scholar 
 ship. Jack s diary says otherwise, and that he saw in 
 me that which, well used, might make of me a man 
 of distinction. At all events, he liked well to walk 
 with us on a Saturday, or to go in my boat, which 
 was for us a great honour. My father approved of 
 James Wilson, and liked him on the holiday to share 
 our two-o clock dinner. Then, and then only, did I 
 understand the rigour and obstinacy of my father s 
 opinions, for they ofttimes fell into debate as to the 
 right of the crown to tax us without representation. 
 Mr. Wilson said many towns in England had no 
 voice in Parliament, and that, if once the crown 
 yielded the principle we stood on, it would change 
 the whole political condition in the mother-land j 
 and this the king would never agree to see. Mr. 
 Wilson thought we had been foolish to say, as 
 many did, that, while we would have no internal 
 taxes, we would submit to a tax on imports. This he 
 considered even worse. My father was for obedience 
 and non-resistance, and could not see that we were 
 fighting a battle for the liberty of all Englishmen. 
 He simply repeated his opinions, and was but a child 
 in the hands of this clear-headed thinker. My father 
 might well have feared for the effect of Mr. Wilson s 
 views on a lad of my age, in whose mind he opened 
 
62 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 vistas of thought far in advance of those which, with 
 out him, I should ever have seen. 
 
 John Wynne was, however, too habitually accus 
 tomed to implicit obedience to dream of danger, and 
 thus were early sown in my mind the seeds of future 
 action, with some doubt as to my father s ability to 
 cope with a man like our tutor, who considerately 
 weighed my father s sentiments (they were hardly 
 opinions), and so easily and courteously disposed of 
 them that these logical defeats were clear even to us 
 boys. 
 
 Our school relations with this gentleman were 
 abruptly broken. One day, in late October of 1769, 
 we went on a long walk through the proprietary s 
 woods, gathering for my mother boughs of the many- 
 tinted leaves of autumn. These branches she liked 
 to set in jars of water in the room where we sat, so 
 that it might be gay with the lovely colours she so 
 much enjoyed. As we entered the forest about 
 Eighth street Mr. Wilson joined us, and went along, 
 chatting agreeably with my mother. Presently he 
 said to me : "I have just left your father with Mr. 
 Pemberton, talking about some depredations in Mr. 
 Penn s woods. He tells me you boys are to leave 
 school, but for what I do not know. I am sorry." 
 
 Jack and I had of late expected this, and I, for 
 one, was not grieved, but my friend was less well 
 pleased. 
 
 We strolled across to the Schuylkill, and there, 
 sitting down, amused ourselves with making a little 
 crown of twisted twigs and leaves of the red and yel- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 63 
 
 low maples. This we set merrily on my mother s gray 
 beaver, while Mr. Wilson declared it most becoming. 
 Just then Friend Pemberton and my father came 
 upon us, and, as usual when the latter appeared, our 
 laughter ceased. 
 
 " I shall want thee this afternoon, Hugh," he said. 
 "And what foolishness is this on thy head, wife! 
 Art thou going home in this guise ? " 
 
 " It seems an innocent prettiness," said Pemberton, 
 while my mother, in no wise dismayed, looked up 
 with her big blue eyes. 
 
 " Thou wilt always be a child," said my father. 
 
 " Je I espere," said the mother ; " must I be put in 
 a corner? The ~bon Dieu hath just changed the 
 forest fashions. I wonder is He a Quaker, Friend 
 Pemberton ? " 
 
 " Thou hast ever a neat answer," said the gentle 
 old man. " Come, John, we are not yet done." 
 
 My father said no more, and we boys were still as 
 mice. We went homeward with our mirth quite at 
 an end, Jack and Wilson leaving us at Fourth street. 
 
 In the afternoon about six for an hour had been 
 named I saw my aunt s chaise at the door. I knew 
 at once that something unusual was in store, for 
 Mistress Wynne rarely came hither except to see my 
 mother, and then always in the forenoon. Moreover, 
 I noticed my father at the window, and never had I 
 known him to return so early. When I went in he 
 said at once : 
 
 " I have been telling thy aunt of my intention in 
 regard to thee." 
 
64 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " And I utterly disapprove of it," said my aunt. 
 
 11 Wait," lie said. " I desire that thou shalt enter as 
 one of my clerks ; but first it is my will that, as the 
 great and good proprietary decreed, thou shouldst 
 acquire some mechanic trade ; I care not what." 
 
 I was silent ; I did not like it. Even far later, cer 
 tain of the stricter Friends adhered to a rule which 
 was once useful, but was now no longer held to be of 
 imperative force. 
 
 "I would suggest shoemaking," said my Aunt 
 Gainor, scornfully, "or tailoring." 
 
 " I beg of thee, Gainor," said my mother, " not to 
 discontent the lad." 
 
 " As to this matter," returned my father, " I will 
 not be thwarted. I asked thee to come hither, not to 
 ridicule a sensible decision, but to consult upon it." 
 
 "You have had all my wisdom," said the lady. 
 " I had thought to ask my friend, Charles Townsend, 
 for a pair of colours ; but now that troops are sent to 
 Boston to override all reason, I doubt it. Do as you 
 will with the boy. I wash my hands of him." 
 
 This was by no means my father s intention. I 
 saw his face set in an expression I well knew ; but 
 my mother laid a hand on his arm, and, with what 
 must have been a great effort, he controlled his 
 anger, and said coldly : " I have talked this over with 
 thy friend, Joseph Warder, and he desired that his 
 son should share in my decision as to Hugh. Talk 
 to him, Gainor." 
 
 " I do not take counsel with my agent, John. He 
 does as I bid him. I could shift his opinions at a 
 
HUGH WYNNE 65 
 
 word. He is a Tory to-day, and a Whig to-morrow, 
 and anything to anybody. Why do you talk such 
 nonsense to me ? Let me tell you that he has already 
 been to ask me what I think of it. He feels some 
 doubt, poor man. Indeed, he is disposed to consider. 
 Bother ! what does it matter what he considers ? " 
 
 " If he has changed his mind I have not. Joseph 
 hath ever a coat of many colours." 
 
 " I shall tell him/ 7 she cried, laughing. The Quaker 
 rule of repression and non-resistance by no means 
 forbade the use of the brutal bludgeon of sarcasm, 
 as many a debate in Meeting could testify. She rose 
 as she spoke, and my mother said gently : 
 
 " Thou wilt not tell him, Gainor." 
 
 Meanwhile I stood amazed at a talk which so 
 deeply concerned rue. 
 
 " Shall it be a smithy ? " said my father. 
 
 " Oh, what you like. The Wynnes are well down 
 in the world trade, horseshoeing. Good evening." 
 
 " Gainor ! Gainor ! " cried my mother j but she was 
 gone in wrath, and out of the house. 
 
 " Thou wilt leave the academy. I have already 
 arranged with Lowry, in South street, to take thee. 
 Three months should answer." 
 
 To this I said, " Yes, yes," and went away but little 
 pleased, my mother saying, " It is only for a time, 
 my son." 
 
I AYS my friend Jack in his journal : 
 
 "The boys were in these times keen 
 politicians whenever any unusual event 
 occurred, and the great pot was like soon 
 to boil furiously, and scald the cooks. 
 Charles Townsend s ministry was long over. The 
 Stamp Act had come and gone. The Non-importa 
 tion Agreement had been signed even by men like 
 Andrew Allen and Mr. Penn. Lord North, a gentle 
 and obstinate person, was minister. The Lord Hills- 
 borough, a man after the king s heart, had the colo 
 nial office. The troops had landed in Boston, and 
 the letters of Dickinson and Vindex had fanned 
 the embers of discontent into flame. 
 
 " Through it all we boys contrived to know every 
 thing that was happening. I had a sense of fear about 
 it, but to Hugh I think it was delightful. A fire, a mob, 
 confusion, and disorder appeal to most boys minds 
 as desirable. My father was terrified at the disturb 
 ance of commerce, and the angry words which began 
 to be heard. Mr. John Wynne very coolly ad 
 justed his affairs, as I have heard, and settled down 
 
 with the Friends, such as Wain and Shoemaker and 
 
 66 
 
HUGH WYNNE 67 
 
 Pemberton and the rest, to accept whatever the king 
 might decree." 
 
 Jack and I talked it all over in wild boy fashion, 
 and went every day at six in the morning to Lowry s 
 on South street. At first we both hated the work, 
 but this did not last; and, once we were used to 
 it, the business had for fellows like ourselves a 
 certain charm. The horses we learned to know and 
 understand. Their owners were of a class with which 
 in those days it was not thought seemly for persons 
 of our degree to be familiar; here it was unavoid 
 able, and I soon learned how deep in the hearts of 
 the people was the determination to resist the author 
 ity of the crown. 
 
 The lads w T e knew of the gay set used to come and 
 laugh at us, as we plied the hammer or blew the 
 bellows ; and one day Miss Franks and Miss Peggy 
 Chew, and I think Miss Shippen, stood awhile with 
 out the forge, making very merry. Jack got red in 
 the face, but I was angry, worked on doggedly, and 
 said nothing. At last I thrashed soundly one Master 
 Galloway, who called me a horse-cobbler, and after 
 that no more trouble. 
 
 I became strong and muscular as the work went on, 
 and got to like our master, who was all for liberty, 
 and sang as he struck, and taught me much that was 
 useful as to the management of horses, so that I 
 was not long unhappy. My father, pleased at my 
 diligence, once said to me that I seemed to be at 
 tentive to the business in hand ; and, as far as I 
 remember, this was the only time in my life that 
 
68 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 he ever gave me a word of even tlie mildest com 
 mendation. 
 
 It was what Jack most needed. His slight, 
 graceful figure filled out and became very straight, 
 losing a stoop it had, so that he grew to be a well- 
 built, active young fellow, rosy, and quite too pretty, 
 with his blond locks. After our third month began, 
 Lowry married a widow, and moved away to her farm 
 up the country and beyond the Blue Bell tavern, 
 where he carried on his business, and where he was to 
 appear again to me at a time when I sorely needed 
 him. It was to be another instance of how a greater 
 Master overrules our lives for good. 
 
 Just after we had heard the news of the widow, 
 my father came into the forge one day with Joseph 
 Warder. He stood and watched me shoe a horse, and 
 asked Lowry if I had learned the business. When 
 he replied that we both might become more expert, 
 but that we could make nails, and shoe fairly well, 
 iny father said : 
 
 " Take off these aprons, and go home. There will 
 be other work for both of you." 
 
 We were glad enough to obey, and, dropping our 
 leathern aprons, thus ended our apprenticeship. 
 Next week Tom Lowry, our master, appeared with 
 a fine beaver for me, saying, as I knew, that it was 
 the custom to give an apprentice a beaver when his 
 time was up, and that he had never been better 
 served by any. 
 
 My Aunt Gainor kept away all this time, and 
 made it clear that she did not wish my black hands 
 
HUGH WYNNE 69 
 
 at her table. My father, no doubt, felt sure that, so 
 far as I was concerned, she would soon or late relent. 
 This, in fact, came about in midwinter, upon her 
 asking my mother to send me to see her. My father 
 observed that he had no will to make quarrels, or 
 to keep them alive. My mother smiled demurely, 
 knowing him as none other did, and bade me go 
 with her. 
 
 In her own room she had laid out on the bed a 
 brown coat of velveteen, with breeches to match, and 
 stockings with brown clocks, and also a brown beaver, 
 the back looped up, all of which she had, with sweet 
 craftiness, provided, that I might appear well before 
 my Aunt Gainor. 
 
 " Thou wilt fight no one on the way, Hugh. And 
 now, what shall be done with his hands, so rough and 
 so hard ? Scrub them well. Tell Gainor I have two 
 new lilies for her, just come from Jamaica. Bulbs 
 they are ; I will care for them in the cellar. I was 
 near to forget the marmalade of bitter orange. She 
 must send ; I cannot trust Tom. Thy father had him 
 whipped at the jail yesterday, and he is sulky. Put 
 on thy clothes, and I will come again to see how 
 they fit thee." 
 
 In a little while she was back again, declaring I 
 looked a lord, and that if she were a girl she should 
 fall in love with me, and then "But I shall never 
 let any woman but me kiss thee. I shall be jealous. 
 And now, sir, a bow. That was better. Now, as I 
 curtsey, it is bad manners to have it over before I am 
 fully risen. Then it is permitted that les beaux yeux 
 
70 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 se rencontrent. Comme $a. Ca va Uen. That is bet 
 ter done." 
 
 " What vanities are these ? " said my father at the 
 door she had left open. 
 
 She was nowise alarmed. "Come in, John," she 
 cried. "He does not yet bow as well as thou. It 
 would crack some Quaker backs, I think. I can hear 
 Friend Wain s joints creak when he gets up." 
 
 " Nonsense, wife ! Thou art a child to this day." 
 
 " Then kiss me, mon pere." And she ran to him 
 and stood on tiptoe, so engaging and so pretty that he 
 could not help but lift up her slight figure, and, kiss 
 ing her, set her down. It was a moment of rare ten 
 derness. Would I had known or seen more like it ! 
 
 " Thou wilt ruin him, wife." 
 
 As I ran down the garden she called after me, 
 "Do not thou forget to kiss her hand. To-morrow 
 will come the warehouse ; but take the sweets of life 
 as they offer. Adieu." She stood to watch me, all 
 her dear heart in her eyes, something pure, and, as 
 it were, virginal in her look. God rest her soul ! 
 
 It was late when I got to my aunt s, somewhere 
 about eight, and the hum of voices warned me of her 
 having company. As I entered she rose, expecting 
 an older guest, and, as I had been bid, I bowed low 
 and touched her hand with my lips, as I said : 
 
 " Dear Aunt Gainor, it has been so long ! " I could 
 have said nothing better. She laughed. 
 
 " Here is my nephew, Mr. Etherington "this to an 
 English major ; " and, Captain Wallace of the king s 
 navy, my nephew." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 71 
 
 The captain was a rough, boisterous sailor, and the 
 other a man with too much manner, and, as I heard 
 later, risen from the ranks. 
 
 He saluted me with a lively thump on the shoul 
 der, which I did not relish. " Zounds ! sir, but you 
 are a stout young Quaker ! " 
 
 " We are most of us Quakers here, captain," said a 
 quiet gentleman, who saw, I fancy, by my face that 
 this rude greeting was unpleasant to me. 
 
 " How are you, Hugh?" This was the Master 
 of the Rolls, Mr. John Morris. Then my aunt said, 
 " Go and speak to the ladies you know them ; " and 
 as I turned aside, "I beg pardon, Sir William; this 
 is my nephew, Hugh Wynne." This was addressed 
 to a high-coloured personage in yellow velvet with 
 gold buttons, and a white flowered waistcoat, and 
 with his queue in a fine hair-net. 
 
 " This is Sir William Draper, Hugh ; he who took 
 Manilla, as you must know." I did not, nor did I 
 know until later that he was one of the victims of 
 the sharp pen of Junius, with whom, for the sake of 
 the Marquis of Granby, he had rashly ventured to 
 tilt. The famous soldier smiled as I saluted him 
 with my best bow. 
 
 " Fine food for powder, Mistress Wynne, and al 
 ready sixteen ! I was in service three years earlier. 
 Should he wish for an ensign s commission, I am at 
 your service." 
 
 " Ah, Sir William, that might have been, a year or 
 so ago, but now he may have to fight General Gage." 
 
 " The gods forbid ! Our poor general ! " 
 
72 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " Mistress Wynne is a rank Whig/ put in Mrs. 
 Ferguson. " She reads Dickinson s l Farmer s Let 
 ters/ and all the wicked treason of that man Adams." 
 
 "A low demagogue!" cried Mrs. Galloway. "I 
 hear there have been disturbances in Boston, and 
 that because one James Otis has been beaten by our 
 officers, and because our bands play Yankee Doodle 
 on Sundays in front of the churches I beg pardon, 
 the meetings Mr. Robinson, the king s collector, has 
 had to pay and apologise. Most shameful it is ! " 
 
 " I should take short measures," said the sailor. 
 
 "And I," cried Etherington. "I have just come 
 from Virginia, but not a recruit could I get. It is 
 like a nest of ants in a turmoil, and the worst of 
 all are the officers who served in the French war. 
 There is, too, a noisy talker, Patrick Henry, and a 
 Mr. Washington." 
 
 " I think it was he who saved the wreck of the king s 
 army under Mr. Braddock," said my aunt. "I can 
 remember how they all looked. Not a wig among 
 them. The lodges must have been full of them, but 
 their legs saved their scalps." 
 
 "Is it for this they call them wigwams?" cries 
 naughty Miss Chew. 
 
 " Fie ! fie ! " says her mamma, while my aunt 
 laughed merrily. 
 
 "A mere Potomac planter," said Etherington, " pon 
 my soul and with such airs, as if they were gentle 
 men of the line." 
 
 " Perhaps," said my aunt, " they had not had your 
 opportunities of knowing all grades of the service." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 73 
 
 The major flushed. "I have served the king as 
 well as I know how, and I trust, madam, I shall have 
 the pleasure to aid in the punishment of some of 
 these insolent rebels." 
 
 " May you be there to see, Hugh," said my aunt, 
 laughing. 
 
 Willing to make a diversion, Mrs. Chew said, " Let 
 us defeat these Tories at the card-table, Grainor." 
 
 "With all my heart," said my aunt, glad of this 
 turn in the talk. 
 
 11 Come and give me luck, Hugh," said Mrs. Fergu 
 son. " What a big fellow you are ! Your aunt must 
 find you ruffles soon, and a steenkirk." 
 
 With this I sat down beside her, and wondered to 
 see how eager and interested they all became, and 
 how the guineas and gold half -joes passed from one 
 to another, while the gay Mrs. Ferguson, who was at 
 the table with Mrs. Penn, Captain Wallace, and my 
 aunt, gave me my first lesson in this form of in 
 dustry. 
 
 A little later there was tea, chocolate, and rusks, 
 with punch for the men ; and Dr. Shippen came in, 
 and the great Dr. Rush, with his delicate, clean-cut 
 face under a full wig. Dr. Shippen was full of talk 
 about some fine game-cocks, and others were busy 
 with the spring races in Centre Square. 
 
 You may be sure I kept my ears open to hear what 
 all these great men said. I chanced to hear Dr. Rush 
 deep in talk behind the punch-table with a handsome 
 young man, Dr. Morgan, newly come from London. 
 
 Dr. Rush said, " I have news to-day, in a letter from 
 
74 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Mr. Adams, of things being unendurable. He is bold 
 enough to talk of separation from England ; but that 
 is going far, too far." 
 
 "I think so, indeed/ 7 said Morgan. "I saw Dr. 
 Franklin in London. He advises conciliation, and 
 not to act with rash haste. These gentlemen yon 
 der make it difficult." 
 
 " Yes ; there is no insolence like that of the soldier." 
 And this was all I heard or remember, for my aunt 
 bade me run home and thank my mother, telling 
 me to come again and soon. 
 
 The plot was indeed thickening, and even a lad 
 as young as I could scent peril in the air. At home 
 I heard nothing of it. No doubt my father read at 
 his warehouse the " Pennsylvania Journal," or more 
 likely Galloway s gazette, the " Chronicle," which was 
 rank Tory, and was suppressed in 1773. But outside 
 of the house I learned the news readily. Mr. War 
 der took papers on both sides, and also the Boston 
 " Packet," so that Jack and I were well informed, and 
 used to take the gazettes when his father had read 
 them, and devour them safely in our boat, when by 
 rare chance I had a holiday. 
 
 And so passed the years 1770, 1771, and 1772, 
 when Lord North precipitated the crisis by attempt 
 ing to control the judges in Massachusetts, who were 
 in future to be paid by the crown, and would thus 
 pass under its control. Adams now suggested com 
 mittees of correspondence, and thus the first step 
 toward united action was taken. 
 
 These years, up to the autumn of 1772, were not 
 
HUGH WYNNE 75 
 
 without influence on my own life for both good and 
 evil. I was, of course, kept sedulously at work at our 
 business, and, though liking it even less than farriery, 
 learned it well enough. It was not without its plea 
 sures. Certainly it was an agreeable thing to know 
 the old merchant captains, and to talk to their men 
 or themselves. The sea had not lost its romance. 
 Men could remember Kidd and Blackbeard. In. the 
 low-lying dens below Dock Creek and on King street, 
 were many, it is to be feared, who had seen the black 
 flag flying, and who knew too well the keys and 
 shoals of the West Indies. The captain who put to 
 sea with such sailors had need to be resolute and 
 ready. Ships went armed, and I was amazed to see, 
 in the holds of our own ships, carronades, which out 
 on the ocean were hoisted up and set in place on deck ; 
 also cutlasses and muskets in the cabin, and good 
 store of pikes. I ventured once to ask my father if 
 this were consistent with non-resistance. He replied 
 that pirates were like to wild beasts, and that I had 
 better attend to my business ; after which I said no 
 more, having food for thought. 
 
 These captains got thus a noble training, were splen 
 did seamen, and not unused to arms and danger, as 
 proved fortunate in days to come. Once I would 
 have gone to the Madeiras with Captain Biddle, but 
 unluckily my mother prevailed with my father to 
 forbid it. It had been better for me had it been de 
 cided otherwise, because I was fast getting an edu 
 cation which did me no good. 
 
 " Indeed," says Jack later on in his diary, " I was 
 
76 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 much troubled in those seventies " (he means up to 
 74, when we were full twenty-one) " about my friend 
 Hugh. The town was full of officers of all grades, 
 who came and went, and brought with them much 
 licence and contempt for colonists in general, and a 
 silly way of parading their own sentiments on all 
 occasions. Gambling, hard drinking, and all manner 
 of worse things became common and more openly 
 indulged in. Neither here nor in Boston could young 
 women walk about unattended, a new and strange 
 thing in our quiet town. 
 
 " Mistress Gainor s house was full of these gentle 
 men, whom she entertained with a freedom only 
 equalled by that with which she spoke her good 
 Whig mind. The air was full of excitement. Busi 
 ness fell off, and Hugh and I had ample leisure to 
 do much as we liked. 
 
 " I musi honestly declare that I deserve no praise 
 for having escaped the temptations which beset 
 Hugh. I hated all excess, and suffered in body if I 
 drank or ate more than was wise. As regards worse 
 things than wine and cards, I think Miss Wynne was 
 right when she described me as a girl-boy ; for the 
 least rudeness or laxity of talk in women I disliked, 
 and as to the mere modesties of the person, I have 
 always been like some well-nurtured maid. 
 
 " Thus it was that when Hugh, encouraged by his 
 aunt, fell into the company of these loose, swagger 
 ing captains and cornets, I had either to give up 
 him, who was unable to resist them, or to share 
 in their vicious ways myself. It was my personal 
 
HUGH WYNNE 77 
 
 disgust at drunkenness or loose society which saved 
 me, not any moral or religious safeguards, although 
 I trust I was not altogether without these helps. I 
 have seen now and then that to be refined in tastes 
 and feelings is a great aid to a virtuous life. Also I 
 have known some who would have been drunkards 
 but for their heads and stomachs, which so be 
 haved as to be good substitutes for conscience. It 
 is sometimes the body which saves the soul. Both 
 of these helps I had, but my dear Hugh had neither. 
 He was a great, strong, masculine fellow, and if I 
 may seem to have said that he wanted refined feel 
 ings, that is not so, and to him, who will never read 
 these lines, and to myself, I must apologise." 
 
 I did come to see these pages, as you know. I 
 think he meant, that with the wine of youth and at 
 times of other vintages, in my veins, the strong pater 
 nal blood, which in my father only a true, if hard, 
 religion kept in order, was too much for me. If I 
 state this awkwardly it is because all excuses are 
 awkward. Looking back, I wonder that I was not 
 worse, and that I did not go to the uttermost devil. 
 I was vigorous, and had the stomach of a temperate 
 ox, arfe? a head which made no complaints. The 
 morning after some mad revel I could rise at five, and 
 go out in my boat and overboard, and then home in 
 a glow, with a fine appetite for breakfast ; and I was 
 so big and tall that I was thought to be many years 
 older than I was. 
 
 I should have been less able unwatched to go 
 down this easy descent, had it not been for a train 
 
78 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 of circumstances which not only left me freer than I 
 ought to have been, but, in the matter of money, made 
 it only too possible for me to hold my own amid 
 evil or lavish company. My aunt had lived in Lon 
 don, and in a society which had all the charm of 
 breeding, and all the vices of a period more coarse 
 than ours. She detested my father s notions, and if 
 she meant to win me to her own she took an ill way 
 to do it. I was presented to the English officers, and 
 freely supplied with money, to which I had been 
 quite unused, so long as my father was the only 
 source of supply. We were out late when I was 
 presumed to be at my Aunt Gainer s j and to drink 
 and bet, or to see a race or cock-fight, or to pull 
 off knockers, or to bother the ancient watchmen, 
 were now some of my most reputable amusements. 
 I began to be talked about as a bit of a rake, and 
 my Aunt Gainor was not too greatly displeased ; she 
 would hear of our exploits and say " Fie ! fie ! " and 
 then give me more guineas. Worse than all, my 
 father was deep in his business, lessening his ven 
 tures, and thus leaving me more time to sow the 
 seed of idleness. Everything, as I now see it, com 
 bined to make easy for me the downward path. I 
 went along it without the company of Jack Warder, 
 and so we drew apart ; he would none of it. 
 
 When my father began to withdraw his capital my 
 mother was highly pleased, and more than once in 
 my presence said to him : " Why, John, dost thou 
 strive for more and more money? Hast thou not 
 enough ? Let us give up all this care and go to our 
 
HUGH WYNNE 79 
 
 great farm at Merion, and live as peaceful as our 
 cattle." She did not reckon upon the force with 
 which the habits of a life bound my father to his 
 business. 
 
 I remember that it was far on in April, 1773, when my 
 Aunt Gainor appeared one day in my father s count- 
 ing-house. Hers was a well-known figure on King 
 street, and even in the unpleasant region alongshore 
 to the south of Dock street. She would dismount, 
 leave her horse to the groom, and, with a heavily 
 mounted, silver-topped whip in hand, and her riding- 
 petticoat gathered up, would march along, picking 
 her way through mud and filth. Here she contrived 
 to find the queer china things she desired, or in some 
 mysterious way she secured cordials and such liquors 
 as no one else could get. 
 
 Once she took my mother with her, and loaded her 
 with gods of the Orient and fine China pongee silks. 
 
 " But, Hugh," said the dear lady, lt il n est pas pos 
 sible de vous la decrire. Mon Dieu ! she can say ter 
 rible words, and I have seen a man who ventured 
 some rudeness to me no, no, mon cher, nothing to 
 anger you ; il avait peur de cette femme. He was 
 afraid of her her and her whip. He was so alarmed 
 that he let her have a great china mandarin for a 
 mere nothing. I think he was glad to see her well 
 out of his low tavern." 
 
 " But the man," I urged ; " what did he say to thee, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " N*importej mon fils. I did want the mandarin. 
 He nodded this way this way. He wagged his head 
 
 or 
 TJNIVERS 
 
80 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 as a dog wags liis tail, like Thomas Scattergood in 
 the Meeting. Comme $d." She became that man in a 
 moment, turning np the edge of her silk shawl, and 
 nodding solemnly. I screamed with langhter. Ever 
 since I was a child, despite my father s dislikes, she 
 had tanght me French, and when alone with me 
 liked me to chatter in her mother language. In 
 fact, I learned it well. 
 
 On the occasion of which I began just now to 
 speak, my Aunt Gainor entered, with a graver face 
 than common, and I rising to leave her with my 
 father, she put her whip across my breast as I turned, 
 and said, "No ; I want you to hear what I have to 
 say." 
 
 " What is it, Gainor?" 
 
 "This business of the ship Gaspee the Rhode Isl 
 and men burned is making trouble in the East. The 
 chief justice of Rhode Island, Hopkins, has refused 
 to honour the order to arrest these Rhode-Islanders." 
 
 " Pirates ! " said my father. 
 
 " Pirates, if you like. We shall all be pirates be 
 fore long." 
 
 "Well, Gainor, is that all ? It does not concern me." 
 
 "No; I have letters from London which inform 
 me that the Lord North is but a puppet, and as the 
 king pulls the wires he will dance to whatever tune 
 the king likes. He was a nice, amiable young fellow 
 when I stayed at his father s, my Lord Guilford s, 
 and not without learning and judgment. But for 
 the Exchequer a queer choice, I must say." 
 
 " It is to be presumed that the king knows how to 
 
HUGH WYNNE 81 
 
 choose his ministers. Thou knowest what I think, 
 Gainor. We have but to obey those whom the Lord 
 has set over us. We are told to render unto Caesar 
 the things which are Caesar s, and to go our ways in 
 peace." 
 
 "The question is, What are Caesar s?" said my 
 aunt. " Shall Caasar judge always ? I came to tell 
 you that it is understood in London, although not 
 public, that it is meant to tax our tea. Now we do 
 not buy; we smuggle it from Holland; but if the 
 India Company should get a drawback on tea, we 
 shall be forced to take it for its cheapness, even with 
 the duty on it of threepence a pound." 
 
 "It were but a silly scheme, Gainor. I cannot 
 credit it." 
 
 " Who could, John ? and yet it is to be tried, and 
 all for a matter of a few hundred pounds a year. It 
 will be tried not now or soon, but next fall when the 
 tea-ships come from China." 
 
 " And if it is to be as thou art informed, what of 
 it?" 
 
 "A storm a tempest in a teapot," said she. 
 
 My father stood still, deep in thought. He had 
 a profound respect for the commercial sagacity of 
 this clear-headed woman. Moreover, he was sure, 
 as usual, to be asked to act in PHiladelphia as a con 
 signee of the India Company. 
 
 She seemed to see through her brother, as one sees 
 through glass. "You got into trouble when the 
 stamps came." 
 
 "What has that got to do with this?" 
 
82 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "And again when you would not sign the Non 
 importation Agreement in 68." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " They will ask you to receive the tea." 
 
 " And I will do it. How can I refuse ? I should 
 lose all their India trade." 
 
 " There will soon be no trade to lose. You are, as 
 I know, drawing in your capital. Go abroad. Wind 
 up your affairs in England j do the same in Holland. 
 Use all your ships this summer. Go to Madeira from 
 London. Buy freely, and pay at once so as to save 
 interest ; it will rise fast. Come home in the fall of 
 74 late. Hold the goods, and, above all, see that 
 in your absence no consignments be taken. Am I 
 clear, John?" 
 
 I heard her with such amazement as was shared 
 by my father. The boldness and sagacity of the 
 scheme impressed a man trained to skill in com 
 merce, and ever given to courageous ventures. 
 
 " You must sail in October or before ; you will 
 need a year. No less will do." 
 
 "Yes yes." 
 
 I saw from his look that he was captured. He 
 walked to and fro, while my Aunt Gainor switched 
 the dust off her petticoat or looked out of the win* 
 dow. At last she turned to me. " What think you 
 of it, Hugh?" 
 
 "Mr. Wilson says we shall have war, aunt, and 
 Mr. Attorney-General Chew is of the same opinion. 
 I heard them talking of it last night at thy house. I 
 think the king s officers want a war." I took refuge, 
 
HUGH WYNNE 83 
 
 shrewdly, in the notions of my elders. I had 
 110 wiser thing to say. " I myself do not know/ 7 I 
 added. 
 
 " How shouldst thou ? " said my father, sharply. 
 
 I was silent. 
 
 " And what think you, John ? " 
 
 " What will my wife say, Gainor ? We have never 
 been a month apart. 7 
 
 " Let me talk to her." 
 
 " Wilt thou share in the venture ? " He was testing 
 the sincerity of her advice. " And to what extent ? " 
 
 "Five thousand pounds. You may draw on me 
 from London, and buy powder and muskets," she 
 added, with a smile. 
 
 " Not I. Why dost thou talk such f oily ! " 
 
 " Then Holland blankets and good cloth. I will 
 take them off your hands at a fair profit." 
 
 " I see no objection to that." 
 
 My aunt gave me a queer look, saying, " The poor 
 will need them. I shall sell them cheap." 
 
 It was singular that I caught her meaning, while 
 my father, reflecting on the venture as a whole, did 
 not. 
 
 " I will do it," he said. 
 
 " Then a word more. Be careful here as to debts. 
 Why not wind up your business, and retire with 
 the profit you will make ? " It was the same advice 
 my mother had given, as I well knew. 
 
 " Hast thou been talking to my wife ? " he said. 
 
 "No," she replied, surprised; "may I?" 
 
 "Yes. As to going out of business, Gainor, I 
 
84 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 should be but a lost man. I am not as well-to-do 
 as thou dost seem to think." 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! " cried my aunt. " I believe 
 Thomas Willing is no better off in what you call this 
 world s gear, nor Franks, nor any of them. You like 
 the game, and, after all, what is it but a kind of gam 
 bling? How do you know what hands the ocean 
 holds ? Your ventures are no better than my guineas 
 cast down on the loo-table." These two could never 
 discuss anything but what it must end in a dif 
 ference. 
 
 " Thou art a fool, Gainor, to talk such wicked non 
 sense before this boy. It is not worth an answer. I 
 hear no good of Hugh of late. He hath been a con 
 cern to James Pemberton and to my friend, Nicholas 
 Wain, and to me to me. Thy gambling and idle 
 redcoats are snares to his soul. He has begun to 
 have opinions of his own as to taxes, and concerning 
 the plain duty of non-resistance. As if an idle dog 
 like him had any right to have an opinion at all ! " 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! " cried Miss Wynne. 
 
 " I am not idle," I said, " if I am a dog." 
 
 He turned and seized me by the collar. " I will 
 teach thee to answer thy elders." And with this he 
 shook me violently, and caught up a cane from a 
 chair where he had laid it. 
 
 And now, once again, that disposition to be merry 
 came over me, and, perfectly passive, I looked up at 
 him and smiled. As I think of it, it was strange in 
 a young fellow of my age. 
 
 " Wouldst thou laugh?" he cried. "Has it gone 
 
HUGH WYNNE 85 
 
 that far ? n and lie raised his stick. My Aunt Gainor 
 jerked it out of his hand, and, standing, broke it 
 over her knee as if it had been a willow wand. 
 
 He fell back, crying, " Gainor ! Gainor ! " 
 
 " My God ! man/ 7 she cried, " are you mad ? If I 
 were you I would take some heed to that hot Welsh 
 blood. What would my good Marie say ? Why have 
 you not had the sense to make a friend of the boy ? 
 He is worth ten of you, and has kept his temper like 
 the gentleman he is." 
 
 It was true. I had some queer sense of amusement 
 in the feeling that I really was not angry; neither 
 was I ashamed ; but an hour later I was both angry 
 and ashamed. Just now I felt sorry for my father, 
 and shared the humiliation he evidently felt. 
 
 My aunt turned to her brother, where, having let 
 me go, he stood with set features, looking from her 
 to me, and from me to her. Something in his look 
 disturbed her. 
 
 "You should be proud of his self-command. Can 
 not you see that it is your accursed repression and 
 dry, dreary life at home that has put you two apart ? " 
 
 " I have been put to scorn before my son, Gainor 
 Wynne. It is thy evil ways that have brought this 
 about. I have lost my temper and would have struck 
 in anger, when I should have reflected, and, after 
 prayer, chastised this insolence at home." 
 
 " I heard no insolence." 
 
 "Go away, Hugh, and thou, Gainor. Why dost 
 thou always provoke me ? I will hear no more ! " 
 
 " Come, Hugh," she said j and then : " It seems to 
 
86 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 me that the boy has had a good lesson in meekness, 
 and as to turning that other cheek." 
 
 " Don t, Aunt Gainor ! " said I, interrupting her. 
 
 " Oh, go ! " exclaimed my father. " Go ! go, both 
 of you ! " 
 
 " Certainly ; but, John, do not mention my news 
 or my London letter." 
 
 "I shall not." 
 
 " Then by-by ! Come, Hugh ! " 
 
VI 
 
 [HERE must have been in this troubled 
 country many such sad scenes as I have 
 tried to recall. Father and son were 
 to part with hot words, brother to take 
 sides against brother. My unpleasant 
 half -hour was but prophetic of that which was to 
 come in worse shape, and to last for years. 
 
 My Aunt Gainor said, " Do not tell your mother/ 
 and I assuredly did not. 
 
 " He will tell her. He tells her everything, soon 
 or late. I must see her at once. Your father is be 
 coming, as the French say, impossible. The times, 
 and these wrangling Friends, with their stupid tes 
 timonies, irritate him daily until he is like a great, 
 strong bull, such as the Spaniards tease to madness 
 with little darts and fireworks. You see, Hugh, 
 events are prickly things. They play the deuce with 
 obstinate people. Your father will be better away 
 from home. He has never been in England, and he 
 will see how many, like Mr. Pitt and Colonel Barre, 
 are with us. As for myself, I have been a bit of a 
 fool about you, and your father is more or less right. 
 We must abjure sack and take physic," 
 
 87 
 
88 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "What? "said I. 
 
 "To be plain, we must that is, you must play 
 less and drink less, and in your father s absence 
 look sharply, with my help, to his business." 
 
 I was to need other doctors before I mended my 
 ways. I said my aunt was right, and I made cer 
 tain good resolutions, which were but short-lived and 
 never reached adult maturity of usefulness. 
 
 My aunt walked with me north between the ware 
 houses, taverns, and ship-chandlers on the river 
 front, and so across the bridge over Dock Creek, and 
 up to Third street. She said I must not talk to her. 
 She had thinking to do, and for this cause, I suppose, 
 turning, took me down to Pine street. At St. Peter s 
 Church she stopped, and bade me wait without, add 
 ing, " If I take you in I shall hear of it ; wait." 
 
 There was a midday service at this time, it being 
 Lent. I waited idly, thinking of my father, and, as 
 I before said, vexed and sorry and ashamed by turns. 
 Often now I pause before I enter this sacred edifice, 
 and think of that hour of tribulation. I could hear 
 the fine, full voice of the Rev. Dr. Duche as he in 
 toned the Litany. He lies now where I stood, and 
 under the arms on his tomb is no record of the 
 political foolishness and instability of a life otherwise 
 free from blame. As I stood, Mrs. Ferguson came 
 out, she who in days to come helped to get the un 
 lucky parson into trouble. With her came my aunt. 
 
 " I said a prayer for thee, Hugh," she whispered. 
 " No j no cards in Lent, my dear Bess. Fie ! for 
 shame ! This way, Hugh ; " and we went east, 
 
HUGH WYNNE 89 
 
 through Pine street, and so to the back of our gar 
 den, where we found a way in, and, walking under 
 the peach-trees, came to where my mother sat be 
 neath a plum-tree, shelling peas, her great Manx cat 
 by her side. 
 
 She wore a thin cap on top of the curly head, 
 wilich was now wind-blown out of all order. " Come, 
 Gainor," she cried, seeing us ; " help me to shell my 
 peas. Thou shalt have some. They are come in a 
 ship from the Bermudas. What a pretty pale green 
 the pods are ! I should like an apron of that colour." 
 
 " I have the very thing, dear. Shall it be the min 
 uet pattern, or plain ? " 
 
 "Oh, plain. Am I not a Friend ? UneAmief del! 
 but it is droll in French. Sarah Logan is twice as 
 gay as I, but John does not love such vanities. Quant 
 d moijje les adore. It seems odd to have a colour to a 
 religion. I wonder if drab goodness be better than 
 red goodness. But what is wrong, Gainor? Yes, 
 there is something. Hugh, thy collar is torn ; how 
 careless of me not to have mended it ! " 
 
 Then my Aunt Gainor, saying nothing of my 
 especial difficulty, and leaving out, too, her London 
 news, related with remarkable clearness the reasons 
 why my father should go overseas in the early fall and 
 be gone for a year. The mother went on quietly shell 
 ing the peas, and losing no word. When Gainor had 
 done, the bowl of peas was set aside, and my mother 
 put back her curls, fixed her blue eyes on her sister- 
 in-law, and was silent for a moment longer. At last 
 she said, "It were best, for many reasons best. I see 
 
90 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 it," and she nodded her head affirmatively. ts But 
 my son ? my Hugh ? " 
 
 "You will have him with you at home. Every 
 thing will go on as usual, except that John will be 
 amusing himself in London." 
 
 At this the little lady leaped up, all ablaze, so to 
 speak. Never had I seen her so moved. " What man 
 ner of woman am I, Gainor Wynne, that I should let 
 my husband go alone on the seas, and here and there, 
 without me? I will not have it. My boy is my 
 boy ; God knows I love him ; but my husband comes 
 first now and always, and tnou art cruel to wish to 
 part us." 
 
 " But I never wished to part you. Go with him, 
 Marie. God bless your sweet heart ! Leave me your 
 boy; he cannot go. As God lives, I will take care 
 of him ! " 
 
 Upon this the two women fell to weeping in each 
 other s arms, a thing most uncommon for my Aunt 
 Gainor. Then they talked it all over, as if John 
 Wynne were not : when it would be, and what room 
 I was to have, and my clothes, and the business, and 
 so on all the endless details wherewith the cunning 
 affection of good women knows to provide comfort 
 for us, who are so apt to be unthankful. 
 
 It amazed me to see how quickly it was settled, 
 and still more to learn that my father did not oppose, 
 but fell in with all their plans. 
 
 Now back of all my weaknesses and folly I had, 
 as I have said, some of the sense of honour and proud 
 rectitude of my father, who strictly abided by his 
 
HUGH WYNNE 91 
 
 creed and his conscience. I returned no more that 
 day to the counting-house, but, saying to my mother 
 I had business, I went off, with a hunk of bread, to 
 my boat, and down the creek to the Delaware. I 
 pulled out, past our old playground on the island, and 
 far away toward the Jersey shore, and then, as the 
 sun fell, drifted with the tide, noting the ruddy lines 
 of the brick houses far away, and began to think. 
 
 The scene I had gone through had made a deep 
 impression. It has been ever so with me. Drink 
 ing, gaming, betting, and worse, never awakened my 
 conscience or set me reflecting, until some sudden, 
 unlooked-for thing took place, in which sentiment 
 or affection was concerned. Then I would set to 
 work to balance my books and determine my course. 
 At such times it was the dear mother who spoke in 
 me, and the father who resolutely carried out my 
 decision. 
 
 The boat drifted slowly with the flood-tide, and I, 
 lying on the bottom, fell to thought of what the day 
 had brought me. The setting sun touched the single 
 spire of Christ Church, and lit up yellow squares of 
 light in the westward-looking windows of the rare 
 farm-houses on the Jersey shore. Presently I was 
 aground on the south end of Petty s Island, where in 
 after-years lay rotting the "Alliance," the remnant ship 
 of the greatest sea-fight that ever was since Grenville 
 lay in the " Revenge," with the Spanish fleet about him. 
 I came to ground amid the reeds and spatter-docks, 
 where the water-lilies were just in bud. A noisy 
 orchestra of frogs, with, as Jack said, fiddles and 
 
92 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 bassoons in their throats, ceased as I came, and 
 pitched headlong off the broad green floats. Only 
 one old fellow, with a great bass voice, and secure 
 on the bank, protested loudly at intervals, like the 
 owl in Mr. Gray s noble poem, which my Jack loved 
 to repeat. 
 
 At last he I mean my frog whose monastery I 
 had disturbed, so vexed me, who wanted stillness, that 
 I smacked the water with the flat of an oar, which 
 he took to be a hint, and ceased to lament my in 
 trusion. 
 
 I was now well on to twenty, and old enough to 
 begin at times to deal thoughtfully with events. A 
 young fellow s feelings are apt to be extreme, and 
 even despotic, so that they rule the hour with such 
 strength of sway as may be out of proportion to the 
 cause. I might have seen that I had no just cause to 
 blame myself, but that did not help me. The mood 
 of distressful self -accusation was on me. I had no 
 repeated impulse to smile at what, in my father s 
 conduct, had appeared to me a little while ago odd, 
 and even amusing. I could never please him. I had 
 grinned as I always did when risks were upon me. 
 He never understood me, and I was tired of trying. 
 What use was it to try f I had one of those minutes 
 of wishing to die, which come even to the wholesome 
 young. I was well aware that of late I had not, 
 on the whole, satisfied my conscience ; I knew this 
 quite too well ; and now, as I lay in the boat dis 
 contented, I felt, as the youthful do sometimes feel, 
 as if I were old, and the ending of things were near. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 93 
 
 It was but a mood, but it led up to serious thought. 
 There are surely hours in youth when we are older 
 than our years, and times in age when we are again 
 young. Sometimes I wonder whether Jack was right, 
 who used to say it may be we are never young or old, 
 but merely seem to be so. This is the queer kind of 
 reflection which I find now and then in Jack s diary, 
 or with which he used to puzzle me and please 
 James Wilson. Of course a man is young or is old. 
 and there s an end on 7 t, as a greater man has said. 
 But Jack has imagination, and I have none. 
 
 I asked myself if I had done wrong in what I had 
 said. I could not see that I had. With all my life 
 long fear of my father, I greatly honoured and re 
 spected him, finding in myself something akin to the 
 unyielding firmness with which he stood fast when 
 he had made up his mind. 
 
 That this proud and steadfast man, so looked up to 
 by every one, no matter what might be their convic 
 tions religious or political, should have been humili 
 ated by a woman, seemed to me intolerable; this 
 was the chief outcome of my reflections. It is true 
 I considered, but I fear lightly, my own misdoings. 
 I made up my mind to do better, and then again the 
 image of my father in his wrath and his shame came 
 back anew. I turned the boat, and pulled steadily 
 across the river to our landing. 
 
 My father was in the counting-house in his own 
 room, alone, although it was full late. " Well ? " he 
 said, spinning round on his high stool. " What is 
 it ? Thou hast been absent, and no leave asked." 
 
94 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "Father," I said, "if I was wrong this morning I 
 wish to ask thy pardon." 
 
 "Well, it is full time." 
 
 " And I am come to say that I will take the punish 
 ment here and now. I did not run away from that." 
 
 " Very good," he replied, rising. " Take off thy 
 fine coat." 
 
 I wished he had not said this of my coat. I was 
 in a heroic temper, and the sarcasm bit cruelly, but 
 I did as I was bid. He went to the corner, and 
 picked up a rattan cane. To whip fellows of nine 
 teen or twenty was not then by any means unusual. 
 What would have happened I know not, nor ever 
 shall. He said, " There, I hear thy mother s voice. 
 Put on thy coat." I hastened to obey him. 
 
 The dear lady came in with eyes full of tears. 
 " What is this, John, I hear ? I have seen Gainor. 
 I could not wait. I shall go with thee." 
 
 "No," he said; "that is not to be." But she fell 
 on his neck, and pleaded, and I, for my part, went 
 away, not sorry for the interruption. As usual she 
 had her way. 
 
 I remember well this spring of 73. It was early 
 by some weeks, and everything was green and blos 
 soming in April. My father and mother were not to 
 sail until the autumn, but already he was arranging 
 for the voyage, and she as busily preparing or think 
 ing over what was needed. 
 
 When next I saw my Aunt Gainor, she cried out, 
 " Sit down there, bad boy, and take care of my man 
 darin. He and my great bronze Buddha are my only 
 
HUGH WYNNE 
 
 counsellors. If I want to do a thing I ask Mr. Man 
 darin he can only nod yes ; and if I want not to do 
 a thing I ask Buddha, and as he can neither say no 
 nor yes, I do as I please. What a wretch you are ! " 
 
 I said I could not see it ; and then I put my head 
 in her lap, as I sat on the stool, and told her of my 
 last interview with my father, and how for two days 
 he had hardly so much as bade me good-night. 
 
 "It is his way, Hugh," said my aunt. "I am 
 sorry; but neither love nor time will mend him. 
 He is what his nature and the hard ways of Friends 
 have made him." 
 
 I said that this was not all, nor the worst, and 
 went on to tell her my latest grievance. Our family 
 worship at home was, as usual with Friends in those 
 days, conducted at times in total silence, and was 
 spoken of by Friends as " religious retirement." At 
 other times, indeed commonly, a chapter of the Bible 
 was read aloud, and after that my father would some 
 times pray openly. On this last occasion he took ad 
 vantage of the opportunity to dilate on my sins, and be 
 fore our servants to ask of Heaven that I be brought 
 to a due sense of my iniquities. It troubled my 
 mother, who arose from her knees in tears, and went 
 out of the room, whilst I, overcome with anger, stood 
 looking out of the window. My father spoke to her 
 as she opened the door, but she made no answer, nor 
 even so much as turned her head. It brought to my 
 memory a day of my childhood, when my father 
 was vexed because she taught me to say the Lord s 
 Prayer. He did not approve, and would have no set 
 
96 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 form of words taught me. My mother was angry 
 too, and I remember my own amazement that any 
 one should resist my father. 
 
 When rhad told my aunt of the indignity put 
 upon me, and of the fading remembrance thus 
 recalled, she said, " John Wynne has not changed, 
 nor will he ever." She declared that, after all, it was 
 her fault to have treated me as if I were a man, and 
 to have given me too much money. I shook my head, 
 but she would have it she was to blame, and then said 
 of a sudden, " Are you in debt, you scamp ? Did John 
 pray for me ? " I replied that I owed no one a penny, 
 and that she had not been remembered. She was 
 glad I was not in debt, and added, " Never play un 
 less you have the means to pay. I have been very 
 foolish. That uneasy woman, Bessy Ferguson, must 
 needs tell me so. I could have slapped her. They 
 will have thy sad case up in Meeting, I can tell thee." 
 
 " But what have I done ? " I knew well enough. 
 
 " Tut ! you must not talk that way to me ; but it is 
 my fault. Oh, the time I have had with your mother ! 
 I am not fit, it seems, to be left to take care of you. 
 They talk of leaving you with Abijah Hap worthy 
 sour old dog ! I wish you joy of him ! n 
 
 "Good heavens !" I exclaimed j for among my aunt s 
 gay friends I had picked up such exclamatory phrases 
 as, used at home, would have astonished my father. 
 
 " Rest easy," said Mistress Wynne j " it is not to be. 
 I have fought your battle, and won it. But I have 
 had to make such promises to your father, and woe 
 is me ! to your mother, as will damn me forever if 
 
HUGH WYNNE 97 
 
 you do not help me to keep them. I can fib to your 
 father and not care a snap, but lie to those blue eyes 
 I cannot." * 
 
 " I will try, Aunt Gainor j indeed I will try." In 
 deed, I did mean to. 
 
 " You must, you must. I am to be a sort of god- 
 mother-in-law to you, and renounce for you the world, 
 the flesh, and the devil j and that for one of our breed ! 
 I shall be like a sign-post, and never go the way I 
 point. That was Bessy Ferguson s malice. Oh, I 
 have suffered, I can tell you. It is I, and not you, that 
 have repented." 
 
 " But I will ; I do." 
 
 " That is all very well ; but I have had my whip 
 ping, and you got off yours." 
 
 " What do you mean, aunt ? " 
 
 " What do I mean ? Here came yesterday Sarah 
 Fisher, pretty gay for a Quaker, and that solemn 
 Master Savory, with his sweet, low voice like a nice 
 girl s tongue, and his gentle ways. And they are 
 friends of thy people, who are distressed at thy go 
 ings on j and Nicholas Wain has seen thee with two 
 sons of Belial in red coats, come out of the coffee 
 house last month at evening, singing songs such as 
 are not to be described, and no better able to take 
 care of yourself than you should be. They did think 
 it well and kind hang em, Hugh ! to consider the 
 matter with me. We considered it we did, indeed. 
 There be five people whose consciences I am to make 
 you respect. And not one of them do I care for, 
 but Mother Blue-eyes. But I must ! I must ! It was 
 
98 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 all true, sir, what Friend Wain said; for you had 
 reason enough left to come hither, and did I not put 
 you to bed and send for Dr. Chovet, who grinned 
 famously, and said, Je comprendsj and went to call 
 on your father on a hint from me, to declare you were 
 enrhum, and threatened with I know not what ; in 
 fact, he lied like a gentleman. You made a noble re 
 covery, and are a credit to the doctor. I hope you 
 will pay the bill, and are ashamed." 
 
 I was, and I said so. 
 
 "But that is not all. These dear Quakers were 
 the worst. They were really sorry, and I had to put 
 on my best manners and listen ; and now everybody 
 knows, and you are the talk of the town. Those drab 
 geese must out with the whole naughtiness, despite 
 the company which came in on us, and here were 
 Mr. Montresor and that ape Etherington grinning, 
 and, worst of all, a charming young woman just come 
 to live here with her aunt, and she too must have 
 her say when the Quakers and the men were gone." 
 
 " And what did she say ? " I did not care much. 
 "And what is her name ? " 
 
 " Oh, she said the Quakers were rather outspoken 
 people, and it was a pity, and she was sorry, because 
 she knew you once, and you had taken her part at 
 school." 
 
 "At school?" 
 
 " Yes. She is Darthea Peniston, and some kin of 
 that Miss de Lancey, whom Sir William Draper will 
 marry if he can." 
 
 "Darthea Peniston?" I said, and my thoughts 
 
HUGH WYNNE 99 
 
 went back to the tender little maid who wept when 
 I was punished, and for whom I had revenged my 
 self on Master Dove. 
 
 " Quite a Spanish beauty/ said my Aunt Wynne ; 
 " a pretty mite of a girl, and not more money than 
 will clothe her, they say ; but the men mad about her. 
 Come and see her to-morrow if you are sober." 
 
 Aunt Gainor ! " 
 
 "Yes, sir. I hear Mr. Montresor has leave from 
 Anthony Morris to invite you to The Colony in 
 Sehuylkill to-morrow. It is well your father has 
 gone to visit Mr. Yeates at Lancaster." 
 
 " I shall behave myself, Aunt Gainor." 
 
 " I hope so. The Fish House punch is strong." 
 
 I went home thinking of Miss Darfchea Peniston, 
 and filled with desire to lead a wiser life. It was full 
 time. My aunt s lavish generosity had, as I have said, 
 given me means to live freely among the officers, 
 who were, with some exceptions, a dissolute set. To 
 be with them made it needful to become deceitful 
 and to frame excuses, so that, when I was supposed 
 to be at my aunt s, or riding, I was free that past win 
 ter to go on sleighing-parties or to frequent taverns, 
 pleased with the notice I got from men like Montre 
 sor and the officers of the Scotch Grays. 
 
 I have dwelt not at all on these scenes of dissipa 
 tion. It is enough to mention them. My father was 
 wrapped up in his business, and full of cares both 
 worldly and spiritual ; for now Friends were becom 
 ing politically divided, and the meetings were long 
 and sometimes agitated. 
 
100 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 My good mother was neither deceived nor uncon 
 cerned. She talked to me often, and in such a way 
 as brings tears to my eyes even now to think of 
 the pain I gave her. Alas ! it is our dearest who 
 have the greatest power to wound us. I wept and 
 promised, and went back to my husks and evil com 
 pany. 
 
 I have no wish to conceal these things from my 
 children. It is well that our offspring when young 
 should think us angels; but it were as well that 
 when they are older they should learn that we have 
 been men of like passions with themselves, and have 
 known temptation, and have fought, and won or lost, 
 our battles with sin. It is one of the weaknesses of 
 nations, as well as of children, that they come to 
 consider their political fathers as saints. I smile 
 when I think of the way people nowadays think of 
 our great President, as of a mild genius, incapable 
 of being moved to anger or great mirth, a man un 
 spotted of the world. They should have heard him 
 at Monmouth, when Lee failed him in a time of peril, 
 or seen him, as I have seen him, soberly merry over 
 his wine with Knox. But some day you shall see 
 him as my friend Jack and I saw him, and you will, 
 I trust, think no worse of him for being as human 
 as he was just. 
 
 The day of my more honest repentance was near, 
 and I knew not that it was to be both terrible and 
 of lasting value. I sometimes reflect upon the curi 
 ous conditions with which my early manhood was 
 surrounded. Here was I, brought up in the strictest 
 
HUGH WYNNE 101 
 
 ways of a sect to which I do no injustice if I describe 
 it as ascetic. At home I saw plain living, and no 
 luxury, save as to diet, which my father would have 
 of the best money could buy. I was taught the ex 
 treme of non-resistance, and absolute simplicity as 
 to dress and language. Amuseinerrt s; there were 
 none, and my father read no books except - 
 dealt with things spiritual, or things- cxm 
 At my aunt s, and in the society I saw at her house, 
 there were men and women who loved to dance, 
 gamble, and amuse themselves. The talk was of 
 bets, racing, and the like. To be drunk was a thing 
 to be expected of officers and gentlemen. To avenge 
 an insult with sword or pistol was the only way to 
 deal with it. My father was a passive Tory, my 
 aunt a furious Whig. What wonder that I fell a 
 victim to temptation ? 
 
 
VII 
 
 [HE next day, having seen to matters of 
 business in the morning, I set out after 
 dinner in my finest clothes to join my 
 friends. I fear that I promised my mo 
 ther to be careful, and to be at home 
 by nine o clock. 
 
 I met Captain Montresor at the London Coffee 
 house, at High and Front streets, and, having taken 
 a chaise, drove out through the woods to the upper 
 ferry, and thence to Egglesfield, the seat of Mr. War 
 ner, from whom the club known then as " The Colony 
 in Schuylkill " held under a curious tenure the acre 
 or two of land where they had built a log cabin and 
 founded this ancient and singular institution. Here 
 were met Anthony Morris, who fell at Trenton, Mr. 
 Tench Francis, sometime Attorney-General, Mifflin, 
 and that Galloway who later became a Tory, with 
 Mr. Willing, and others of less note, old and young. 
 I was late for the annual ceremony of presenting 
 three fish to Mr. Warner, this being the condition on 
 which the soil was held, but I saw the great pewter 
 dish with the Penn arms, a gift from that family, on 
 which the fish were offered. 
 
 It was a merry and an odd party j for, clad in white 
 102 
 
HUGH WYNNE 103 
 
 aprons, the apprentices, so called, cooked the dinner 
 and served it ; and the punch and Madeira went round 
 the table often enough, as the "king s health" was 
 drunk, and " success to trade," and " the ladies, God 
 bless them ! " 
 
 I liked it well, and, with my aunt s warning in 
 mind, drank but little, and listened to the talk, which 
 was too free at times, as was the bad custom of that 
 day, and now and then angry ; for here were some 
 who were to die for their country, and some who were 
 to fail it in the hour of need. 
 
 Despite my English friends, and thanks to Mr. 
 Wilson and my Aunt G-ainor, I was fast becoming an 
 ardent Whig, so that the talk, in which I had small 
 share, interested me deeply. At last, about seven, the 
 pipes having been smoked and much punch taken, 
 the company rose to go, some of them the worse for 
 their potations. 
 
 We drove into town, and at the coffee-house put 
 up and paid for our chaise. I said good-by to Mr. 
 Montresor, who, I think, had been charged by Miss 
 Wynne to look after me, when a Captain Small, 
 whom I knew, stopped me. He was well known as 
 one of the most reckless of the younger officers, a 
 stout, short man, rather heroically presented long 
 afterward, in TrumbulPs picture of the " Death of 
 Warren," as trying to put aside the bayonets. As I 
 paused to reply, I saw Jack Warder standing on the 
 other side of the street. He nodded, smiling, and 
 made as if he were about to cross over. He had 
 many times talked with me seriously this winter, 
 
104 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 until I had become vexed, and told him he was a 
 milksop. After this I saw little of him. Now I was 
 annoyed at the idea that he was spying upon my 
 actions, and therefore, like a fool, merely nodded, 
 and, turning my back on him, heard Mr. Small say : 
 "You must not go yet, Mr. Wynne. We are to 
 have supper upstairs, and you will like to see a gen 
 tleman of your name, Mr. Arthur Wynne, of the Scots 
 Grays. He tells me he is of distant kin to you." 
 
 Montresor said I had better go home, but Ether- 
 ington asked if I wanted my bottle and nurse ; and 
 so at last, partly from pride and partly out of curi 
 osity to see this other Wynne, I said I would remain 
 long enough to welcome the gentleman and take a 
 social glass. When we entered the room upstairs, 
 I found a supper of cold meats and, as usual, punch 
 and liquors. There were two dozen or more officers 
 in undress jackets, their caps and swords in the cor 
 ners, and also two or three of the younger men of 
 the Tory or doubtful parties. 
 
 Several officers called to me to sit with them, for I 
 was a favourite, and could troll a catch or sing parts 
 fairly well. My companion, Small, said, " This way, 
 Wynne," and, followed by Montresor and the colonel 
 of the Scots Grays, whose name I forget, we moved 
 to a table remote from the door. Here Montresor, 
 pushing past Small, said : " Captain Wynne, I have 
 the honour to present to you Mr. Hugh Wynne, one 
 of your family, I hear." 
 
 Upon this there rose to greet me a gentleman in 
 the undress uniform of the Grays. He was tall and 
 
HUGH WYNNE 105 
 
 well built, but not so broad or strong as we other 
 Wynnes j certainly an unusually handsome man. 
 He carried his head high, was very erect, and had 
 an air of distinction, for which at that time I should 
 have had no name. I may add that he was dressed 
 with unusual neatness, and very richly ; all of which, 
 I being but a half -formed young fellow, did much 
 impress me. 
 
 He looked at me so steadily as we came near that 
 it gave me a rather unpleasant impression ; for those 
 who do not meet the eye at all are scarcely less dis 
 agreeable than those who too continually watch you, 
 as was this man s way. I was rather young to be a 
 very careful observer of men s faces, but I did see that 
 Captain Wynne s bore traces of to o convivial habits. 
 
 As I recall his dark, regular features, I remember, 
 for we met often afterward, that the lower part of 
 his face was too thin, and that in repose his mouth 
 was apt not to remain fully shut, a peculiarity, as I 
 now think, of persons of weak will. 
 
 My first feeling of there being something unpleas- 
 ing about him soon left me. He rose, and, with gra- 
 ciousness and the ease and manner of one used to 
 the best society, moved around the table and took 
 my hand. 
 
 "I am but a far-away kinsman," he said, "but I 
 am charmed to make your acquaintance. You are 
 like the picture of old Sir Robert at Wyncote, where 
 I was last year for the otter-hunting." 
 
 I greeted him warmly. " And art thou living at 
 Wyncote ? " I asked rather awkwardly. 
 
106 
 
 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " No, I do not live at home. I am but a cadet, 
 and yours is the elder branch." Then he added gaily, 
 " I salute you, sir, as the head of our old house. Your 
 very good health ! " And at this, with a charm of man 
 ner I have seen but rarely, he put a hand on my 
 shoulder, and added, "We must be friends, Cousin 
 Wynne, and I must know your father, and above all 
 Mistress Wynne. Montresor never ceases talking of 
 her." 
 
 I said it would give me pleasure to present him ; 
 then, delighted to hear of Wyncote, I sat down, and, 
 despite a warning look from Montresor, began to take 
 wine with this newly found kinsman. 
 
 Mr. Arthur Wynne was a man fully ten years my 
 senior. He had served in the Guards, and in the 
 Indies, and was full of stories of court and camp 
 and war, such as every young fellow of spirit likes 
 to hear. 
 
 Captain Montresor lingered awhile, and then, find 
 ing it vain to persist in his purpose, gave it up, and 
 fell to talking with one of his fellow-officers, while 
 I went on questioning my cousin as to the Wynnes 
 to their uttermost generation. Either he cared little 
 about them, or he knew little, for he seemed much 
 to prefer to tell queer stories about the court ladies, 
 and my Lord Chesterfield s boor of a son, who had 
 such small manners and such a large appetite, and 
 of Sir Guy Carleton, whom he was about to join in 
 Canada. He advised me to get a pair of colours as 
 my aunt had once desired, and seemed surprised 
 when I paraded my friend Mr. Wilson s opinions as 
 
HUGH WYNNE 107 
 
 my own, and talked of taxation and the oppression 
 under which commerce had to be carried on. In fact, 
 as to this I knew something ; but in this, as in other 
 matters, he deferred to me as one does to a well- 
 informed talker of one s own age, now setting me 
 right with admirable courtesy, and now cordially 
 agreeing. 
 
 What with his evident desire to be friendly, and 
 the wine I was taking, I fell an easy prey to one who 
 rarely failed to please when he was so minded. Too 
 well amused to reflect that the hours were swiftly 
 passing, I sat, taking glass after glass mechanically. 
 As the night went on we had more punch, and the 
 dice began to rattle on the tables, despite the land 
 lord s remonstrance, who feared to fall into the hands 
 of the law and lose his licence. But a lively major 
 called out that here was licence enough, and hustled 
 him out of the room, calling for more rum-punch, 
 and stronger. 
 
 Meanwhile the smoke grew thick and thicker. 
 Here and there a song broke out, and the clink of 
 coin and the rattle of dice went on. Then, when at 
 last Montresor came to our table and said he was 
 going, and would I come too, I rose, and, bidding 
 my kinsman good-by, went with the captain. I heard 
 him swear as he found the door locked. No one 
 seemed to know who had the key, and as for me, not 
 ill-pleased, and past feeling regret, I turned back and 
 stood over a table where some officers were throwing 
 a main. 
 
 Then I saw in a corner a poor fellow who used to 
 
108 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 be an usher at the academy, and who, having taken 
 to drink, had lost his place. Now he was a sort of 
 servitor in the coffee-house, and had gotten locked 
 up in the room and could not escape. He had taken 
 refuge in a corner at a deserted table, and, sitting 
 unnoticed, was solacing himself with what was left 
 of a bowl of punch. A sense of not altogether maudlin 
 pity came upon me, and I went over and sat down 
 beside him. No one took any heed of us. The air 
 was heavy with pipe-smoke, oaths, mad catches of 
 song, clink of glasses, and rattle of dice noisily cast, 
 with here and there a toast cried ; so that it was hard 
 to see for the smoke, or to hear a man speak. 
 
 " Why, Savoy ! How earnest thou here ? " I said. 
 
 " The devil fetched me, I guess." 
 
 He was far gone in liquor. " I am like Mr. Sterne s 
 starling : I can t get out. Ever read Mr. Sterne s 
 what is it? oh, his l Sentimental Journey ?" 
 
 Here was one worse than I, and I felt inclined to 
 use what Friends call a precious occasion, a way 
 being opened. 
 
 " This is a sad business, Savoy," I said. 
 
 " Dre ful," he returned. " Fadlis descensus taverni. 
 No use to talk to me. I am tired of life. I am going 
 to die. Some men shoot themselves, some like the 
 rope, and some cold water. You know what Bishop 
 what s-his-name I mean Jeremy Taylor says about 
 ways to die : None please me. But drink is the best. 
 I mean to drink myself dead dead d dead," and 
 here he fell on to my shoulder. Letting him down 
 easily, I loosed his neckerchief, and stood beside him, 
 
HUGH WYNNE 109 
 
 pitiful and shocked. Then in a moment I felt that 
 I was drunk. The room whirled, and with an effort 
 I got to the open window, stumbling over legs of men, 
 who looked up from their cards and cursed me. 
 
 Of what chanced after this I knew for a time but 
 little, until I was in one instant sobered. This was 
 an hour later, and nigh to twelve o clock. What 
 took place I heard from others j and, as it concerns 
 a turning-point in my life, I shall try to relate it as 
 if I myself had been conscious all the while. 
 
 The better for air, I went over to a table in the 
 centre of the room not far from the door. Leaning 
 heavily on Captain Small s shoulder, I threw on the 
 table the last gold joe my aunt had given me with her 
 final lesson in morals. 
 
 " Best in three, Etherington." 
 
 " Take it," he cried. 
 
 I threw double sixes, he threes, and I deuce ace. 
 Then he cast some numbers as good. Certainly the 
 devil meant to have me. I threw a third time ; a six 
 and a five turned up, and he an ace and a four. I 
 had won. " Double or quits," I said j " one throw." 
 I won again, and at this I went on until the pile of 
 gold grew beneath my eyes, amid laughter, curses, 
 and all manner of vileness. Presently I heard the 
 colonel exclaim, "This won t do, gentlemen," and I 
 felt some one trying to draw me from the table. It 
 was Captain Wynne. I cried out, " Hands off ! no 
 liberties with me ! I am the head of thy house ; 
 thou art only a cadet." He laughed as I pushed him 
 aside. 
 
110 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " You said double or quits/ 7 cried the stout major. 
 How he got into the game I knew not. 
 
 "It is a mere boy ! for shame ! " cried the colonel. 
 " I forbid it." 
 
 " I am a gentleman/ I said. " Thou canst order thy 
 officers j thou canst not order me/ and as I spoke I cast 
 so hard that I crushed the box. I heard some one cry, 
 " A damn pretty Quaker ! By George, he has lost! A 
 clean hundred pounds ! " Even in this drunken revel 
 there was a pause for a moment. I was, after all, but 
 a tipsy lad of twenty, and some were just not far 
 enough gone to feel that it might look to others an 
 ugly business. The colonel said something to Major 
 Milewood as to disrespect, I hardly know what j for 
 at this moment there was a loud knocking at the door. 
 In the lull that followed I heard the colonel s voice. 
 
 Then the tumult broke out anew. " By Jove, it is 
 a woman ! " cried Wynne. " I hear her. Wine and 
 women ! A guinea to a guinea she s pretty ! " 
 
 " Done ! " cried some one. 
 
 "Here s the key," said the major j "let s have 
 her in." 
 
 " Place aux dames" hiccoughed a cornet. 
 
 The colonel rose, but it was too late. Wynne, 
 seizing the key, unlocked the door and threw it wide 
 open, as my mother, followed by Jack Warder, en 
 tered the room, and stood still a moment, dazed. 
 
 Captain Wynne, leering and unsteady, caught at 
 her waist, exclaiming, " By George ! she might be 
 younger, but I ve won. A toast ! a toast ! A Quaker, 
 by George ! " 
 
HUGH WYNNE 111 
 
 Whether I was sobered or not, I know not. I can 
 only say that of a sudden I was myself , and strangely 
 quiet. I saw the dear lady, brave, beautiful, and 
 with her curls f ailing about her neck, as she shrank 
 back from the man s touch. 
 
 " Come, Hugh/ she said. 
 
 " Yes, mother," I said ; " but first" and I struck 
 Captain Wynne full in the face, so that, unprepared 
 as he was, he fell over a table and on to the floor. 
 
 Every one started up. There was instant silence. 
 
 In a moment he was on his feet, and, like myself, 
 another man. Turning, he said, with amazing coolness, 
 wiping the blood away, for I was strong, and had hit 
 hard, "Madam, I beg your pardon; we have been 
 behaving like beasts, and I am fitly punished. As to 
 you, Mr. Wynne, you are a boy, and have undertaken 
 to rough it with men. This shall go no further." 
 
 " It shall go where I please," I cried. 
 
 " No, no j Hugh, Hugh ! " said my mother. 
 
 "We will talk it over to-morrow," said the cap 
 tain; and then, turning, "I mean, gentlemen, that 
 this shall stop here. If any man thinks I am wrong, 
 let him say so. I shall know how to settle accounts 
 with him." 
 
 " No, no," said the colonel ; " you are right, and if 
 any officer thinks otherwise, I too am at his service." 
 In the silence which came after he added, " Permit 
 me, madam;" and offering his arm to my mother, 
 we following, they went downstairs, Jack and I after 
 them, and so into the street and the reproachful calm 
 of the starlit April night. 
 
VIII 
 
 VEN so far away as now," says Jack, 
 writing in after-days, "it grieves me 
 to think of that winter, and of this 
 mad scene at the London Coffee-house. 
 When I saw Hugh go in with the 
 officers, I waited for an hour, and then went away. 
 Returning later, I learned that he was still upstairs. 
 I felt that if I stayed until he came forth, although 
 he might not be in a way to talk to me, to know that 
 I had waited so long might touch him and help him 
 to hear me with patience. I walked to and fro 
 until the clock had struck twelve, fearful and troubled 
 like a woman. Sometimes I think I am like a woman 
 in certain ways, but not in all. 
 
 " There were many people who loved Hugh, but, 
 save his mother, none as I did. He had a serious 
 kindliness in his ways, liking to help people, and for 
 me at certain times and in certain crises a reassur 
 ing directness of swift dealing with matters in hand, 
 most sustaining to one of my hesitating nature. His 
 courage was instinctive, mine the result of obedi 
 ence to my will, and requiring a certain resolute effort. 
 " I think of him always as in tim e of peril, throw 
 ing his head up and his shoulders back, and smiling, 
 112 
 
HUGH WYNNE 113 
 
 with very wide-open eyes, like his mother s, but a 
 deeper blue. The friendship of young men has often 
 for a partial basis admiration of physical force, and 
 Hugh excelled me there, although I have never been 
 considered feeble or awkward except among those 
 of another sex, where always I am seen, I fear, to 
 disadvantage. 
 
 Just after twelve I saw a woman coming hastily 
 up Front street. As she came to a pause in the light 
 which streamed from the open door, I knew her for 
 Madam Marie, as she had taught me to call her. She 
 wore a caleche hood, fallen back so that I saw her 
 hai^, half tumbled from under the thin gauze cap 
 worn on the top of the head by most Quakers. She 
 was clad quite too slightly, and had for wrap only a 
 light, gray silk shawl. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! she exclaimed, 1 1 had to come. 
 Jack, is he here ? Tl faut que je monte, I must go 
 upstairs. In excitement she was apt to talk French, 
 and then to translate. Let me go/ said I ; but she 
 cried out, No, no ! come ! 7 
 
 " There were many rough folks without, and others 
 called together by the noise above, and no wonder. I 
 said, Come in ; I will go up with thee. She pushed 
 me aside, and, with staring eyes, cried, Ou est I es- 
 calier-f As we went through the coffee-room, the 
 loungers looked at her with surprise. She followed 
 me without more words, ran by me on the stairs, and 
 in a moment beat fiercely on the door, crying, l Ouvrez! 
 open! quick P Then there was that madhouse scene." 
 
 And this was how it came about, as Jack has here 
 
114 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 told, that, still hot and angry, but much sobered, I, 
 her son, walked beside my mother till we came to our 
 door, and Jack left us, saying : 
 
 " Wilt thou see me to-morrow ? n 
 
 I said, " Yes. God bless thee ! Thou art the real 
 son," and we entered. 
 
 Then it was sweet to see her ; she said no word of 
 reproach except, " H ne faut pas me donner ton baiser 
 du soir. No, no ; I am not to be kissed." And so I 
 went, sorrowful and still dizzy, up to my sleepless 
 couch. 
 
 At the first gray light of dawn I rose, and was soon 
 away half a mile from shore in my boat. As I came 
 up from my first plunge in the friendly river, and 
 brushed the water from my eyes, I do assure you the 
 world seemed different. The water was very cold, 
 but I cared nothing for that. I went home another 
 and a better man, with hope and trust and self -repose 
 for company. That hour in the water at early morn 
 forever after seemed to me a mysterious separation 
 between two lives, like a mighty baptismal change. 
 Even now I think of it with a certain awe. 
 
 I pulled home as the sun rose, and lingered about 
 until our servants came in for the early worship of 
 the day. Soon I had the mother s kiss, and under 
 went a quick, searching look, after which she nodded 
 gaily, and said, "Est-ce que tout est Men, monfils ? Is all 
 well with thee, my son ? n I said, " Yes yes." I heard 
 her murmur a sweet little prayer in her beloved French 
 tongue. Then she began to read a chapter. I looked 
 up amazed. It was the prodigal s story. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 115 
 
 I stood it ill, thinking it hard that she should have 
 made choice of that reproachful parable. I stared 
 sideways out at the stream and the ships, but lost no 
 word, as, with a voice that broke now and then, she 
 read the parable to its close. After this should have 
 come prayer, silent or spoken ; but, to my surprise, 
 she said, " We will not pray this morning," and we 
 went in to breakfast at once. 
 
 As for me, I could not eat. I went out alone to 
 the garden and sat down. I knew she would come 
 to me soon. It seemed to me a long while. I sat on 
 the grass against a tree, an old cherry, as I remem 
 ber, and waited. 
 
 I can see her coming toward me under the trees, 
 grave and quiet and sweet. The great beauty, Sarah 
 Lukens, who married in mid- war the gallant Lennox, 
 used to say of my mother that she put some sugar 
 into all her moods j and it was true. I have seen her 
 angry. I had rather have faced my father in his 
 wildest rage than her. Why was she not angry now ? 
 She had vast reason for displeasure. After men have 
 become wise enough to understand woman, I protest 
 there will remain the mother, whom no man will ever 
 comprehend. 
 
 " What a beautiful day, Hugh ! And you had a 
 good swim ? was it cold ? Why may not girls swim ? 
 I should love it." 
 
 Next she was beside me on the grass, my head on 
 her bosom, saying, with a little sob, as if she had done 
 some wrong thing : 
 
 " I I did not choose it, dear j indeed I did not. It 
 
116 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 came in order with the day, as your father reads ; 
 and I I did not think until I began it, and then I 
 would not stop. It is strange for it to so chance. I 
 wonder where that prodigal s mother was all the 
 while ? Oh, you are better than that wicked, wicked 
 prodigal. I never would have let him go at all 
 never if I could have helped it, I mean. Mon Dieu I 
 I think we women were made only for prayer or for 
 forgiveness ; we can stop no sin ; and when it is done 
 can only cry, Come back ! come back ! I love you ! " 
 
 If I cried on that tender heart, and spoke no word, 
 and was but a child again, I am sure that it was of 
 all ways the best to tell her that never again should 
 she be hurt by any act of mine. 
 
 " See, there is Judith at the door, wondering where 
 I am," she said, "and what is to be for dinner. I 
 must go and get ready the fatted calf. Ah, I would 
 not have left one alive. Yes, yes, I can jest, because 
 I am no more afraid, mon fits, nor ever shall be." 
 
 Upon this I would have said something of my 
 deep shame, and of the swine among whom I had 
 wallowed. 
 
 "No," she cried; "c est fini, mon cher. It is all 
 over. The swine will eat alone hereafter." And 
 so would hear no more, only adding, "As for me, 
 I want to be told once how brave I was. Jack said 
 so ; indeed he did. I was brave, was I not ? " 
 
 " Don t, dear mother ! please ! I cannot bear it." 
 Somehow this plea, so childlike, to be praised for 
 what must have cost so much, quite overcame me. 
 
 "Yes, yes," she said; "I understand thee, and I 
 
HUGH WYNNE 117 
 
 shall always. How strong thou art, mon fils ! I was 
 proud of thee, even in that sty of pigs in red coats. 
 And he behaved like a gentleman, and hath wondrous 
 self-command. I would see him again ; who is he ? " 
 
 I told her his name. 
 
 " Que (test drole. That is curious. Thy cousin ! 
 No doubt we shall see him to-day, and thy father. I 
 shall tell him all all. He must know." 
 
 " Yes, he must know," I said ; " but I will tell him 
 myself." 
 
 " He will be angry, but that is part of thy punish 
 ment." 
 
 Then I told her, too, I had lost an hundred pounds, 
 as I believed, and she said : 
 
 " That is, after all, the least. There are pearls of 
 my sister s I never wear. Thy aunt must take them 
 and pay this debt. Go now to thy business as if 
 nothing had happened, and I will send thee the pearls 
 by Tom. No, no ; it is to be as I say ; I must have 
 my way." 
 
 What could I do ? I kissed her, and we parted. 
 I made no promises, and she asked for none. I 
 like to think of how, after all, I left with her this 
 sense of quiet trust. 
 
 I have said that the daily march of events never 
 so influenced my life as did critical occasions. This 
 was surely one of them. I do not now regret the 
 knowledge of a baser world which I thus acquired. 
 It has been of use to me, and to some with whose lives 
 I have had to deal. 
 
 Of the wrath of my father, when I humbly con- 
 
118 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 fessed my sins, it is not needful to speak at length. 
 For business calamities he was ready enough, and 
 lacked not decision but in this matter he was, as 
 I could see, puzzled. He strode up and down, a great 
 bulk of a man, opening and shutting his hands, a 
 trick he had in his rare moments of doubt or of 
 intense self-repression. 
 
 " I know not what to do with thee," he said over 
 and over j "and thou didst strike the man, thy cousin ? 
 Well, well ! and hurt him, I am told ? And he did 
 not return the blow ! " 
 
 I had not said so. Thus I knew that other busy 
 tongues had been at work. For my life, I could not 
 see whether he looked upon the blow as my worst 
 iniquity, or deep in his heart was hardly grieved at it. 
 
 " Thou didst strike him ? I must consider of thee ; 
 I must take counsel. Go ! thou wilt bring my gray 
 hairs in sorrow to the grave." And so I left him, 
 still striding to and fro, with ever the same odd 
 movement of his hands. He took counsel, indeed, 
 and for me and for him the most unwise that ever 
 a troubled man could have taken. It was some days 
 before this unpleasant scene took place, and mean 
 while I had seen my aunt. 
 
 She was taking snuff furiously when I entered, 
 and broke out at once, very red in the face, and 
 walking about in a terrible rage. My mother used 
 to say that the first thing one saw of my Aunt 
 G-ainor was her nose. It had been quite too much 
 of a nose for the rest of her face, until gray hair and 
 some change wrought by time in the architecture of 
 
HUGH WYNNE 119 
 
 her fine head helped to make it more in harmony 
 with the rest of her features. Somehow it arrested 
 my attention now, and Heaven knows why it seemed 
 to me more odd than ever. 
 
 " This is a fine repentance indeed ! What are you 
 staring at, you fool ? Here has been that wild curlew, 
 Bess Ferguson, with an awful tale of how you have 
 gambled and lost an hundred pounds, and half killed 
 an unlucky cousin. Who the deuce is the man 1 A 
 nice godchild you are ! A proper rage I am in, and 
 Dr. Rush tells me I am never to get excited ! You 
 should hear Mrs. Galloway j duels and murder are the 
 least of her talk ; and, upon my word, you know no 
 more of the small sword than of I know not what. I 
 must send you to Pike for lessons. When is it to be ? " 
 
 "My dear aunt," I cried, "I wish all these Tory 
 cats of yours were dead ! " 
 
 At this she broke into laughter, and sat down. 
 
 " Cats ! and did n t they miaow ! That sweet girl- 
 boy, Jack Warder, has been here too ; sent, I suppose, 
 by that dear Jesuit, your mother. How he blushes ! 
 I hear you behaved like a gentleman even in your 
 cups. I like the lad ; I did not use to. He is a manly 
 miss. Sit down, and tell me all about it. Bless me ! 
 how hot I am ! " 
 
 Upon this I knew I had won my battle, and went 
 on to tell the whole story. When I produced my 
 pearls, of which I was horribly ashamed, she broke 
 out anew, declaring we were all mere traders, and 
 did we think her a pawnbroker ? and ended by giving 
 me an hundred pounds, and bidding me to be care- 
 
120 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 ful and pay at once, as it was a debt of honour. " As 
 to the pearls, let Madam Marie keep them for thy 
 wife." 
 
 Thus ended a sorry business. It was to be told, 
 and I have told it j but none, not even my mother 
 or Jack, knew how deep a mark it left upon my 
 character, or how profoundly it aifected my life. 
 
 My friend Jack shall say the requiescat of this 
 chapter of my life, which I have so unwillingly re 
 corded. There was one more thing needed to com 
 plete its misery. Says Jack : 
 
 "Hugh Wynne and I fell apart this last winter 
 of 72 and ? 73. It was my fault." This I do not 
 understand. "Came then that hideous night in 
 April, and all the rest ; and Hugh I saw the day 
 after, and begged him to forgive me because I had 
 so easily deserted him. I took him later a kind 
 message from Mr. James Wilson 5 for our small city 
 knew it all. Friends looked at him as one disgraced, 
 except Friend Rupert Forest, who, to my amuse 
 ment, seemed to enjoy to hear the whole story, say 
 ing, < Alas ! alas ! and yet, as I saw, far more pleased 
 than distressed. It brought to my mind the battle 
 he had set us to fight out when we were boys. For 
 a week or two Hugh was dispirited, but after that, 
 when the colonel had called, and his cousin, Arthur 
 Wynne, began to be more and more with him, he 
 took heart, and faced our little world, and would let 
 no one, except myself, say a word to him of the time 
 of his downfall ; this I think I never did, save per 
 haps once, and that long after. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 121 
 
 " There was no need to preach. Converted devils 
 make the best saints. I never was as good as Hugh, 
 because I lacked courage to be wicked. Hugh was 
 no saint, but he drank no more for a long while, and 
 was ever after moderate. As to cards and dice, it 
 was much the same." 
 
 What Jack has here written is all nonsense. He 
 was a better man than I, and never was nor could 
 have been a bad one. 
 
IX 
 
 HAVE said that one event had to be re 
 corded before I completed the stoiy of 
 that episode- of which I was weary of 
 hearing. My father and it was against 
 all his habits in regard to most matters 
 reminded me almost daily of my misdeeds. He 
 hoped I did not drink any more, and he would even 
 look at the square flasks on the shelf to see, as I 
 suspected, if they had been used. To be prayed for 
 was worst of all, and this he did more than once. 
 It was all of it unwise, and but for my mother I 
 should have been even more unhappy. I can see 
 now that my father was this while in distress, feeling 
 that he must do something, and not knowing what 
 to do. 
 
 In his business life there had always been a way 
 opened, as Friends say. He did not see that what 
 I needed was what it was not in his nature to give, 
 and thus it came about that we drew apart, and per 
 haps neither then nor at any later time were, or could 
 ever have been, in the kindlier relation which makes 
 the best of friendships that of the grown-up son with 
 the elderly father. 
 
 At last, after a month or more, when it was far 
 122 
 
HUGH WYNNE 123 
 
 on in June, he ceased to trouble me, and to walk up 
 and down, opening and shutting his hands, as he 
 recounted my sins. He had reached an unfortunate 
 decision, of which I was soon to feel the results. 
 
 In the mean time my cousin, Mr. Arthur Wynne, 
 had come into very close intimacy with all our family 
 circle. As he had much to do with my later life, it 
 is well to return a little, and to detail here what fol 
 lowed after the night of my mother s visit to the 
 coffee-house. 
 
 Next day, in the evening, came the colonel of the 
 Scots Grays, and desired to see me in the sitting, 
 room, my father being still in Lancaster. 
 
 "Mr. Wynne," he said, "Captain Wynne has 
 asked me to call in reference to that unhappy busi 
 ness of last night. He begs to make his excuses 
 to Mrs. Wynne in this letter, which may I ask 
 you to deliver? And after this action on his part 
 I trust you will see your way to regret the blow you 
 struck." 
 
 I was quiet for a moment, feeling that I must be 
 careful what answer I made. " I cannot feel sorry," 
 I said ; . " I do not regret it." 
 
 " That is a pity, Mr. Wynne. You should remem 
 ber that Mr. Arthur Wynne could not have known 
 who the lady was. A blow is a thing no gentle 
 man can, as a rule, submit to ; but this has been dis 
 cussed by Sir William Draper and myself, and we 
 feel tha.t Mr. Arthur Wynne cannot challenge a boy 
 of eighteen." 
 
 " I am twenty," I replied. 
 
124 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " Pardon me of twenty, who is his cousin. That 
 is the real point I would make. You have the best 
 of it. You were right, quite right j but, by St. George, 
 you are a hard hitter! Mr. Wynne would have 
 come in person, but he is hardly fit to be seen, 
 and a sign-painter is just now busy painting his eye 
 lids and cheek, so as to enable him to appear out 
 of doors." 
 
 The colonel treated me with the utmost respect, 
 and, as a young fellow naturally would be, I was 
 embarrassed more than a little, but not at all dissat 
 isfied with the condition of my cousin. I said awk 
 wardly that if he was willing to forget it I supposed 
 I ought to be. 
 
 "I think so," said the colonel. "Suppose you 
 leave it with me, and in a day or two talk it over 
 with him. Indeed, he is a most charming gentleman, 
 and a worthy member of a good old house." 
 
 I said I would leave it with the colonel, and upon 
 this he said, " Good-by, and come and dine with the 
 mess some day, but don t hit any more of us ;" and 
 so, laughing, he went away, leaving me flattered, but 
 with the feeling that somehow he had gotten the bet 
 ter of me. 
 
 My mother declared it was a beautiful letter, writ 
 prettily, but ill-spelled (neither George the king nor 
 our own George could spell well). She would not 
 let me see it. I did years afterward. In it he spoke 
 of me as a boy, and she was cunning enough to know 
 that I should not like that, 
 
 It was a week before we saw Mr. Arthur Wynne. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 125 
 
 My father had meanwhile vented his first wrath on 
 me, and I was slowly getting over the strong sense of 
 disgust, shame, contrition, and anger, and had set 
 tled down earnestly to my work. I hardly recognised 
 the man who came in on us after supper, as my 
 mother and I sat in the orchard, with my father in a 
 better humour than of late, and smoking a churchwar 
 den, which, you may like to know, was a long clay 
 pipe. The smoke sailed peacefully up, as I sat look 
 ing at its blue smoke-rings. How often since have 
 I seen them float from the black lips of cannon, and 
 thought of my father and his pipe ! 
 
 We discussed the state of trade, and now and then 
 I read aloud bits from the Boston "Packet" of two 
 weeks back, or my mother spoke of their September 
 voyage, and of what would be needed for it, a voyage 
 being looked upon as a serious affair in those times. 
 
 "I found your doors hospitably open," said the 
 captain, appearing, "and the servant said I should find 
 you here ; so I have taken my welcome for granted, 
 and am come to make my most humble excuses to 
 Mrs. Wynne." 
 
 We all rose as he drew near, my mother saying 
 in my ear as he approached, "It is Arthur Wynne. 
 Now, Hugh, take care ! " 
 
 This newly found cousin was, like all of us, tall, 
 but not quite so broad as we other Wynnes. He 
 was of swarthy complexion from long service in the 
 East, and had black hair, not fine, but rather coarse. 
 I noticed a scar on his forehead. He shook hands, 
 using his left hand, because, as I learned, of awkward- 
 
126 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 ness from an old wound. But with his left he was 
 an expert swordsman, and, like left-handed swords 
 men, the more dangerous. 
 
 "We are glad to see thee, Cousin Wynne/ 7 said 
 my mother. 
 
 Seeing the marks of my handiwork still on his 
 cheek, I took his greeting with decent cordiality, and 
 said, " Sit down ; wilt thou smoke a pipe, Cousin 
 Arthur?" 
 
 He said he did not smoke, and set himself, with 
 the address of a man used to a greater world than 
 ours, to charm those whom no doubt he considered 
 to be quite simple folk. In a few minutes the un 
 pleasantness of the situation was over. He and my 
 father were at one about politics, and I wisely held 
 my peace. He let fall a discreet sentence or two 
 about the habits of soldiers, and his own regrets, 
 and then said, laughing : 
 
 " Your son is not quite of your views as a Friend 
 in regard to warfare." 
 
 "My son is a hasty young man," said my father, 
 and I felt my mother s touch on my arm. 
 
 Our cousin was in no way upset by this. He said, 
 "No, no, cousin-; he is young, but not hasty. I was 
 fitly dealt with. We are hot-blooded people, we 
 Wynnes. The ways of Friends are not our ways of 
 dealing with an injury 5 and it was more I wish to 
 say so it was an insult. He was right." 
 
 " There is no such thing as insult in the matter," 
 said my father. " We may insult the great Master, 
 but it is not for man to resent or punish." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 127 
 
 " I fear as to that we shall continue to differ." He 
 spoke with the utmost deference. "Do you go to Wyn- 
 cote ? I hear you are for England in the autumn." 
 
 "No; I shall be too full of business. Wyncote 
 has no great interest for me." 
 
 "Indeed? It might perhaps disappoint you a 
 tumble-down old house, an embarrassed estate. My 
 brother will get but a small income when it falls to 
 him. My father fights cocks and dogs, rides to 
 hounds, and, I grieve to say, drinks hard, like all our 
 Welsh squires." 
 
 I was surprised at his frank statement. My mother 
 watched him curiously, with those attentive blue eyes, 
 as my father returned : 
 
 " Of a certainty, thou dost not add to my induce 
 ments to visit Wyncote. I should, I fear, be sadly 
 out of place." 
 
 " I am afraid that is but too true, unless your head 
 is better than mine. We are a sad set, we Wynnes. 
 All the prosperity, and I fear much of the decency 
 of the family, crossed the ocean long ago." 
 
 "Yet I should like to see Wyncote," said I. "I 
 think thou didst tell me it is not thy home." 
 
 " No ; a soldier can hardly be said to have a home ; 
 and a younger brother, with a tough father alive, 
 and an elder brother on an impoverished estate, must 
 needs be a wanderer." 
 
 " But we shall make thee welcome here," said my 
 father, with grave kindness. " We are plain people, 
 and live simply ; but a Wynne should always find, 
 as we used to say here, the latch-string outside." 
 
128 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 With a little more talk of the Wynnes, the captain, 
 declining to remain longer, rose, and, turning to me, 
 said, " I hear, Cousin Hugh, that you refused to say 
 that you were sorry for the sharp lesson you gave me 
 the other night. I have made my peace with your 
 mother." 
 
 " I shall see that my son behaves himself in future. 
 Thou hast heard thy cousin, Hugh ? " 
 
 I had, and I meant to make it up with him, but my 
 father s effort as a peacemaker did not render my 
 course the more easy. Still, with the mother-eyes 
 on me, I kept my temper. 
 
 " I was about to say thou hast done all a man can 
 do," said I. 
 
 " Then let us shake hands honestly," he replied, 
 "and let bygones be bygones." 
 
 I saw both my parents glance at me. " I should 
 be a brute if I did not say yes, and mean it, too ; but 
 I cannot declare that I am sorry, except for the whole 
 business." And with this I took his left hand, a 
 variety of the commonplace ceremony which always, 
 to my last knowledge of Captain Wynne, affected me 
 unpleasantly. 
 
 He laughed. " They call us in Merionethshire the 
 wilful Wynnes. You will find me a good friend if 
 you don t want the things I want. I am like most 
 younger brothers, inclined to want things. I thank 
 you all for a pleasant hour. It is like home, or better." 
 With this he bowed low to my mother s curtsey, and 
 went away, chatting as I conducted him to the door, 
 and promising to sail with me, or to fish. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 129 
 
 Naturally enough, on my return I found my parents 
 discussing our newly found relative. My mother 
 thought he talked much of himself, and had been 
 pleasanter if he had not spoken so frankly of his 
 father. My father said little, except that there seemed 
 to be good in the young man. 
 
 " Why should we not forgive that in him which 
 we must forgive in our own son ? " 
 
 My father had some dreadful power to hurt me, 
 and to me only was he an unjust man j this may 
 have been because my wrong-doing troubled both 
 his paternal and his spiritual pride. I was about 
 to say that there was little likeness between my sin 
 and that of my cousin ; but I saw my mother, as she 
 stood a little back of my father s great bulk, shake 
 her head, and I held my tongue. Not so she. 
 
 "If thou hadst been a woman in my place, John 
 Wynne, thou wouldst be far from saying the thing 
 thou hast said." 
 
 Never had I heard or seen in our house a thing 
 like this. I saw, in the fading light, my father work 
 ing his hands as I have described, a signal of re 
 strained anger, and, like anything physically unus 
 ual in one we love, not quite pleasant to see. But 
 my mother, who knew not fear of him nor of any, 
 went on, despite his saying, " This is unseemly un 
 seemly, wife." 
 
 " Thou art unjust, John, to my son." 
 
 "Thy son?" 
 
 "Yes ; mine as well as thine. I have faith that thou, 
 even thou, John, wouldst have done as my boy did." 
 
130 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " I ? I ? " he cried j and now I saw that he was dis 
 turbed, for he was moving his feet like some proud, 
 restrained horse pawing the grass. At last he 
 broke the stillness which followed his exclamations : 
 " There is but one answer, wife. Both have been 
 brutes, but this boy has been kept near to godly 
 things all his life. Each First-day the tongues of 
 righteous men have taught him to live clean, to put 
 away wrath, to love his enemies; and in a day a 
 minute it is gone, and, as it were, useless, and I the 
 shame of the town." 
 
 I hoped this was all 5 but my mother cried, " John ! 
 John ! It is thy pride that is hurt. No, it is not 
 seemly to dispute with thee, and before thy son. And 
 yet and yet even that is better than to let him go 
 with the thought that he is altogether like, or no better 
 than, that man. If thou hast a duty to bear testi 
 mony, so have I." And thus the mother of the prod 
 igal son had her say. No doubt she found it hard, 
 and I saw her dash the tears away with a quick hand, 
 as she added, " If I have hurt thee, John, I am sorry." 
 
 " There is but one answer, wife. Love thy enemy j 
 do good to them that despitefully use thee. Thou 
 wilt ruin thy son with false kindness, and who shall 
 save him from the pit ? " 
 
 I turned at last in a storm of indignation, crying, 
 " Could I see my mother treated like a street- wench 
 or a gutter-drab, and lift no hand? I wish I had 
 killed him ! " 
 
 " See, wife," said my father. " Yes, even this was 
 to be borne." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 131 
 
 " Not by me ! " I cried, and strode into the house, 
 wondering if ever I was to be done with it. 
 
 The day after no one of us showed a sign of this 
 outbreak. Never had I seen the like of it among us ; 
 but the Quaker habit of absolute self -repression, and 
 of concealment of emotion again prevailed, so that 
 at breakfast we met as usual, and, whatever we may 
 have felt, there was no outward evidence of my 
 mother s just anger, of my father s bitterness, or of 
 my own disgust. 
 
WAS not yet to see the end of my ini 
 quity, and was to feel the consequences in 
 ways which, for many a day, influenced 
 my life and actions. 
 
 It was toward the end of June. The 
 feeling of uneasiness and dread was becoming more 
 and more felt, not only in commerce, which is so sen 
 sitive, but also in the social relations of men. The 
 king s officers were more saucy, and, like all soldiers, 
 eager for active service, imagining an easy victory 
 over a people untrained in war. Such Tory pam 
 phleteers as the foul-tongued Massachusetts writer, 
 Daniel Leonard, were answering "Vindex" (Mr. 
 Adams) and the widely read letters of " An American 
 Farmer." The plan of organised correspondence 
 between the colonies began to be felt in some ap 
 proach to unity of action, for at this time the out 
 spoken objection to the views of the king and his 
 facile minister was general, and even men like G-al- 
 loway, Chew, the Aliens, and John Penn stood with 
 varying degrees of good will among those who were 
 urging resistance to oppression. As yet the too 
 mighty phantom of independence had not appeared 
 132 
 
HUGH WYNNE 133 
 
 on the horizon of our stormy politics, to scare the 
 timid, and to consolidate our own resistance. 
 
 I worked hard with my father at our lessening 
 and complicated business, riding far into the country 
 to collect debts, often with Jack, w T ho had like er 
 rands to do, and with whom I discussed the topics 
 which were so often, and not always too amiably, in 
 question at my Aunt Gainer s table. I was just 
 now too busy to be much with my old favourites, the 
 officers. Indeed, I was wise enough to keep away 
 from them. 
 
 My cousin I saw often, both at my aunt s, as I shall 
 relate, and elsewhere ; for he came much to our house, 
 and my father found it agreeable to talk over with 
 him the news of the day. My mother did not like 
 him as well, but she held her peace, and, like every 
 other man, he was attracted by her gaiety, and quaint 
 way of looking at men and things. 
 
 Mr. Wilson I saw at times, as he still had, I know 
 not why, a fancy for me, and loved well to sail with 
 me of evenings over to Kaighn s Point to fish, or 
 down to Gloucester to bob for crabs. I owed him 
 much. A profound knowledge of law, variety of 
 reading, and a mind which left broadly on our after- 
 history the marks of his powerful intellect, were at 
 my service. He used to caution me how I spoke of 
 his opinions to others, and he would then discuss with 
 freedom politics and the men whose figures were fast 
 risin g into distinctness as leaders to be listened to and 
 trufAed. Many of them he knew, and thus first I heard 
 clearly what manner of persons were Patrick Henry 
 
134 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 and the Adamses, Dickinson, Peyton Randolph, and 
 others less prominent. In this way I came to be more 
 and more confirmed in the opinions my Aunt Gainor 
 so resolutely held, and also more careful how I ex 
 pressed them. Indeed, although but twenty years of 
 age, I was become quite suddenly an older and graver 
 man. Mr. Wilson surprised me one day by saying 
 abruptly, as he pulled up a reluctant crab, " Do you 
 never think, Hugh, that we shall have war ? " 
 
 I was indeed amazed, and said so. Then he added, 
 " It will come. My place will not be in the field, 
 but, whether you like it or not, you will see battles. 
 You were made for a soldier, Hugh, Quaker or no 
 Quaker." 
 
 I thought it odd that two people as different as my 
 Aunt Gainor and he should have the same belief 
 that we were drifting into war. She had said to me 
 the night before that she had known Lord North as 
 a boy, and that the king was an obstinate Dutchman, 
 and would make his minister go his way, adding, 
 " When it comes you will be in it ; you can t escape." 
 
 No one else whom I knew had any such belief. 
 Wilson s views and prediction sent me home thought 
 ful enough. 
 
 That evening my father said to me, "We go to 
 Merion the day after to-morrow." It was there we 
 spent our summers. "To-morrow will be Fourth- 
 day. It is our last day of Meeting in the town. There 
 will, perhaps, be some wise words said as to present 
 confusions, and I wish thee to hear them, my s< n." 
 
 I said, " Yes ; at seven, father ? " I was, however, 
 
HUGH WYNNE 135 
 
 astonished; for these occasional night Meetings in 
 the middle of the week were but rarely attended by 
 the younger Friends, and, although opened with such 
 religious observances as the society affected, were 
 chiefly reserved for business and questions of disci 
 pline. I had not the least desire to go, but there was 
 no help for it. 
 
 Our supper took place at six on this Wednesday, 
 a little earlier than usual, arid I observed that my 
 father drank several cups of tea, which was not his 
 habit. Few people took tea since the futile tax 
 had been set upon it; but my father continued to 
 drink it, and would have no concealment, as was the 
 custom with some Whigs, who in public professed 
 to be opposed to the views of the crown as to the 
 right to collect indirect taxes. 
 
 Seeing that I did not drink it, and knowing that 
 I liked nothing better than a good dish of tea, he 
 asked me why I did not partake of it. Not willing 
 to create new trouble, I said I did not want any. 
 He urged the matter no further, but I saw he was 
 not well pleased. We set off soon after in silence, 
 he walking with hands behind his back clasping his 
 gold-headed cane, his collarless coat and waistcoat 
 below his beaver, and the gray hair in a thick mass 
 between. He wore shoes, fine drab short-clothes, 
 and black silk stockings, all without buckles ; and 
 he moved rapidly, nodding to those he met on the 
 way, to the Bank Hill Meeting-house, in Front street, 
 above Arch. 
 
 It was a simple, one-story, brick building, set a 
 
136 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 few feet above the level of the roadway. The gables 
 and shutters were painted white, as was also the 
 plain Doric doorway, which had a pillar on each 
 side. I judged by the number of both sexes enter 
 ing that it was an unusual occasion. There were 
 many drab-coated men, and there were elderly women, 
 in gowns of drab or gray, with white silk shawls 
 and black silk-covered cardboard bonnets. Here and 
 there a man or woman was in gayer colours or wore 
 buckles, and some had silver buttons ; but these were 
 rare. The Meeting-room was, so to speak, a large 
 oblong box with whitewashed walls. A broad 
 passage ran from the door to the farther end; on 
 the right of it sat the men, on the left the women ; 
 against the remoter wall, facing the rude benches, 
 were three rows of seats, one above the other. On 
 these sat at the back the elders, and in front of 
 them the overseers. The clerk of the Meeting had 
 a little desk provided for him. Over their heads 
 was a long sounding-board. 
 
 To me the scene had been familiar for years ; but 
 to-day it excited my attention because of an air of 
 expectation, and even of excitement, among the few 
 more youthful Friends. I saw, as we entered, furtive 
 glances cast at my father and myself ; but as to this 
 I had grown to be of late more or less indifferent, and 
 had no anticipation of what was to follow later. 
 
 I had become, since my sad downfall, a more serious 
 and thoughtful young man, and far better fitted to 
 feel the beauty and the spirituality of these Meetings 
 than I had been before. When the doors were closed 
 
HUGH WYNNE 137 
 
 I sat silent in prayer ; for some ten minutes increas 
 ing stillness came upon one and all of the three or 
 four hundred people here met together. 
 
 As I waited, with long-trained patience, for full 
 twenty minutes, a yet deeper quiet fell on the 
 figures seated on each side of the aisle. For a 
 time none of the men uncovered, but soon a few 
 took off their broad hats, having remained with 
 them on their heads long enough to satisfy cus 
 tom by this protest against the ways of other men. 
 The larger number kept their hats on their heads. 
 Then a strange incident took place : a woman of 
 middle age, but gray, her hair fallen about her 
 shoulders, entered noisily, and, standing before the 
 elders, cried out in a loud voice, as though in afflic 
 tion and sore distress, "See to your standing; the 
 Lord is about to search and examine your camp. 
 Ho ! ye of little faith and less works, the hand of 
 God is come upon you the mighty hand of punish 
 ment." As she spake thus wildly she swayed to and 
 fro, and seemed to me disordered in mind. Finally 
 she passed across the space in front of the overseers, 
 to the women s side, and then back again, repeating 
 her mad language. My Aunt Gainor s great bronze 
 Buddha was not more motionless than they who sat 
 on the elders seats. At last the woman faced the 
 Meeting, and went down the aisle, waving her hands, 
 and crying out, " I shall have peace, peace, in thus 
 having discharged my Lord s errand." The many 
 there met did justice to their discipline. Scarce a 
 face showed the surprise all must have felt. No one 
 
138 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 turned to see her go out, or seemed to hear the door 
 banged furiously after her. The covered heads re 
 mained silent and undisturbed; the rows of deep 
 bonnets were almost as moveless. Fully ten minutes 
 of perfect silence followed this singular outburst. 
 Then I saw the tall, gaunt figure of Nicholas Wain 
 rise slowly, a faint but pleasant smile on his severe 
 face, while he looked about him and began : 
 
 " Whether what ye have heard be of God I cannot 
 say. The time hath troubled many souls. The woman, 
 Sarah Harris, who hath, as some are aware, borne 
 many sweet and pleasing testimonies to Friends in 
 Wilmington, I know not. Whether what ye have 
 heard be of God or but a rash way of speech, let us 
 feel that it is a warning to Friends here assembled 
 that we be careful of what we say and do. It hath 
 been borne in upon me that Friends do not fully 
 understand one another, and that some are moved 
 to wrath, and some inclined to think that Friends 
 should depart from their ways and question that 
 which hath been done by the rulers God hath set" over 
 us. Let us be careful that our General Epistles lean 
 not to the aiding of corrupt and wicked men, who are 
 leading weak-minded persons into paths of violence." 
 And here he sat down. 
 
 A moment later got up Thomas Scattergood, grim 
 and dark of visage. None of his features expressed 
 the slightest emoticm, although even from the begin 
 ning he spoke with vehemence and his body rocked 
 to and fro. 
 
 " The days are darkening ; the times are evil. Our 
 master, set over us by God, has seen fit to tax cer- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 139 
 
 tain commodities, that means may be raised for the 
 just government of these colonies, where we and our 
 fathers have prospered in our worldly goods, under 
 a rule that has left us free to worship God as seems 
 best to us. And now we are bid by men, not of our 
 society, ungodly self-seekers, sons of darkness, to 
 unite with them in the way of resistance to the law. 
 There have even been found here among us those 
 who have signed agreements to disobey such as are 
 set over us, unmindful of the order to render to Caesar 
 that which is his. Let there be among Friends neither 
 fear nor any shortcoming. Let us bear testimony 
 against evil-doers, whether they be of us or not. Let 
 us cut down and utterly cast forth those who depart 
 from righteousness. Are they not of the scum which 
 riseth on the boiling pot ? There is a time for Friends 
 to remonstrate, and a time to act. I fear lest these 
 too gentle counsels of Friend Wain be out of time 
 and out of place. Away with those who, hearing, 
 heed not. Let them be dealt with as they should be, 
 with love for the sinner, but with thought as to the 
 evil which comes of unscourged examples, so that 
 when again we are met in the Quarterly Meeting there 
 shall be none among us to stir up discord, and we can 
 say to other Meetings, < As we have done, so do ye. 
 Make clean the house of the Lord. " 
 
 The night was now upon us, and the ringing tones 
 of the speaker were heard through the darkness be 
 fore he sat down. While all waited, two Friends 
 lit the candles set in tin sconces against the pillars 
 of the gallery, and, in the dim light they gave, the 
 discussion went on. 
 
140 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Then I saw that Arthur Howell was about to speak. 
 This able and tender-minded man usually sat in 
 Meeting with his head bent, his felt hat before his 
 eyes, wrapped in thought, and lifted above all con 
 sideration of the things of this earth. As he began, 
 his rich, full voice filled the space, and something in 
 its pleading sweetness appealed to every heart. He 
 spoke as one who, having no doubt, wondered that 
 any one else should doubt, and he brought the dis 
 cussion to a decisive point at once. 
 
 " It is well," he said, " that all should be convinced 
 by those who, from age and influence among Friends, 
 have the best right of speech. Nevertheless, since 
 this is a Meeting for discipline, let all be heard with 
 fairness and order. Men have gone astray. They 
 have contended for the asserting of civil rights in 
 a manner contrary to our peaceable profession and 
 principles, and, although repeatedly admonished, do 
 not manifest any disposition to make the Meeting a 
 proper acknowledgment of their outgoings. There 
 fore it is that we bear our testimony against such 
 practices, and can have no unity with those who fol 
 low them until they come to a sense of their errors. 
 Therefore, if this be the sense of our Meeting, let 
 the clerk be moved to manifest the feelings of the 
 Meeting to these members, signing on our behalf, 
 for the matter hath already been before us twice, 
 and hath been deeply and prayerfully considered by 
 ourselves ; and I am charged to tell Friends that these 
 members who have thus gone astray are unwilling 
 to be convinced by such as have sought to bring them 
 
HUGH WYNNE 141 
 
 to a better mind. This hath been duly reported, and 
 overseers having thus failed, it doth only remain 
 to abide by the sense of our Meeting. But this I 
 have already said : the matter hath been prayerfully 
 considered." 
 
 After this, others spoke, but all elder Friends un 
 derstood that the business had been disposed of, and 
 little attention was given to those who rose after 
 Friend Howell sat down. Indeed, that they were ill- 
 advised to speak at all was plainly to be read in the 
 countenances of many. 
 
 This was my first experience of an evening Meet 
 ing, and, even to one acquainted with all the ways 
 of Friends, the scene was not without its interest. 
 The night was now dark outside. The tallow dips 
 ran down and flared dismally. A man with snuffers 
 went to and fro, and the pungent odours of candles, 
 burned out and to be replaced, filled the room. 
 
 In the quiet which followed Arthur HowelPs re 
 fined and distinct accents, I looked at the row of 
 placid faces where the women sat, some rosy, some 
 old, all in the monastic cell of the bonnet, which made 
 it as impossible to see, except in front, as it is for a 
 horse with blinders. I wondered how this queer head 
 gear came to have been made, and recalled my aunt s 
 amusement at the care exercised as to its form and 
 material. Few there, I think, let their thoughts 
 wander, and in front of me the row of drab coats and 
 wide felt or beaver hats remained almost motionless. 
 
 At last James Pemberton, the esteemed clerk of 
 the Meeting, rose. "I am moved," he said, "by the 
 
142 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Spirit to declare that the sense, and also the weight, 
 of the Meeting is that Cyrus Edson and William 
 Jameson be advised, in accordance with the instructed 
 wish of Friends." 
 
 He then sat down. There was no vote taken. 
 Even had a majority of those present been hostile to 
 the proposed action, it is improbable that any protest 
 would have been made. The clerk s statement that 
 the weight of the Meeting was affirmative, would 
 have been held to settle the matter, as it appeared 
 best to a limited number of those recognised, through 
 their piety and strict living, to be competent to decide 
 for the rest. 
 
 I was now assured that this was all, and looked to 
 see two of the elders shake hands, which is the well- 
 recognised signal for the Meeting to break up ; but 
 as the elders did not move, the rest sat still and waited. 
 By and by I saw Nicholas Wain extend his hand to 
 my father, who, looking steadily before him, made 
 no sign of perceiving this intention to dismiss 
 Friends. A still longer pause followed. As I learned 
 afterward, no further speaking was anticipated. No 
 one stirred. For my part, I was quite ready to go, 
 and impatiently awaited the signal of dismissal. A 
 minute or two passed then I was aware of a short, 
 neatly built man, who rose from a bench near by. 
 His face was strong, irregular of feature, and for 
 some reason impressed me. I could see even in 
 the indistinct light that he flushed deeply as he got 
 up on his feet. He received instant attention, for he 
 went past me, and, standing in the passageway, was 
 
HUGH WYNNE 143 
 
 quiet for a moment. He was, 1 think, not over thirty, 
 and seemed embarrassed at the instant attention he 
 received. For a few minutes he appeared to seek 
 his words, and then, quite suddenly, to find them in 
 eloquent abundance. 
 
 " It is not usual," he said, " for disowned members 
 of the society to openly protest. Neither are these 
 our brothers here to-day. Nor, were they with us, 
 are they so skilled with the tongue as to be able to 
 defend themselves against the strong language of 
 Thomas Scattergood or the gentle speech of Arthur 
 Howell. I would say a word for them, and, too, for 
 myself, since nothing is more sure than that I think 
 them right, and know that ye will, before long, cast 
 out me, to whom your worship is sweet and lovely, 
 and the ways of Friends for the most part such as 
 seem to me more acceptable than those of any other 
 Christian society. Whether it be that old memories 
 of persecution, or too great prosperity, have hardened 
 you, I do not know. It does seem to me that ye have 
 put on a severity of dress and life that was not so 
 once, and that undue strictness hath destroyed for us 
 some of the innocent joys of this world. I also find 
 unwholesome and burdensome that inner garment 
 of self-righteousness in which ye clothe yourselves 
 to judge the motives of your fellow-men. 
 
 " So far as the law went against such views as you 
 entertained, none did more resist them, in your own 
 way, than did you ; but now the English across the 
 seas tell us that the liberty our fathers sought on 
 these shores is to be that which pleases a corrupt and 
 
144 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 pliant ministry, and not that which is common to 
 men of English blood. Some brave men of our so 
 ciety say, Let us make a stand here, lest worse things 
 come. Let us refuse to eat, drink, or wear the ar 
 ticles they assume to tax, whether we will or not. 
 There is no violence. Believe me, there will be none 
 if we are one throughout the colonies. But if not 
 if not if grave old men like you, afraid of this mere 
 shadow of passive resistance, dreading to see trade 
 decay and the fat flanks of prosperity grow lean 
 if you are wholly with our oppressors, passively with 
 them, or, as some believe, actively, then then, dear 
 friends, it will be not the shadow, but the substance, 
 of resistance that will fall in blood and ruin on you 
 and on all men on your easy lives and your ac 
 cumulated gains. 
 
 " Aye, look to it ! There is blood on the garments 
 of many a man who sits fearfully at home, and thinks 
 that because he does nothing he will be free of guilt 
 when the great account is called. 77 
 
 On this a rare exception to the tranquillity of Meet 
 ing occurred. Daniel Offley, by trade a farrier, rose 
 and broke in, speaking loudly, as one used to lift his 
 voice amid the din of hammers : " Wherefore should 
 this youth bring among us the godless things of 
 worldly men ? " His sonorous tones rang out through 
 the partial obscurity, and shook, as I noticed, the 
 scattered spires of the candle flames. " This is no 
 time for foolish men to be heard, where the elders 
 are of a mind. The sense of the Meeting is with us. 
 The weight of the Meeting is with us. The king is 
 
HUGH WYNNE 145 
 
 a good king, and who are we to resist? Out with 
 those who are not of our ways ! Let the hammer 
 fall on the unrighteous, lest the sheep be scattered, 
 and the Shepherd leave them. 7 
 
 At this queer mixture of metaphors I saw the pre 
 vious speaker smile, as he stood in the aisle. Next 
 I heard the gentle voice of James Pemberton break 
 in on the uncouth speech of the big farrier. 
 
 " It is the custom of Friends that all men who feel 
 to be moved to tell us aught shall be heard. Friend 
 Wetherill, we will hear thee to an end." He spoke 
 with the courteous ease of a well-bred gentleman, and 
 the smith sat down. 
 
 Friend Wetherill paused a moment, looking to left 
 and right along the lines of deeply interested and 
 motionless faces. Then he continued : " On what you 
 and others do in these days depends what shall come 
 upon us. Let no man deceive you, not even the timid 
 counsel of gray hairs or the wariness of wealth. The 
 guinea fears ; the penny fights ; and the poor penny 
 is to-day deeply concerned. You take shelter under 
 the law of Christ, to live, as far as possible, at peace 
 with all men. As far as possible f It should at times 
 be felt that Paul s limitation is also a command. 
 Do not resist him who would slay a child or wrong 
 a woman that is how you read the law of God. 
 
 " It is extremes which bring ruin to the best Chris 
 tian societies, and if the mass of men were with you 
 civil order would cease, and the carefully builded 
 structure of civilisation would perish. You are al 
 ready undergoing a process of dry decay, and as you 
 10 
 
14G HUGH WYNNE 
 
 dry and dry, you harden and shrink, and see it not. 
 A wild woman has told you to set your camp in order. 
 See to it, my friends ; see to it ! " 
 
 For not less than a minute the speaker remained 
 silent, with bended head, still keeping the won 
 derfully steady attention of this staid assembly. 
 Very slowly he lifted his face, and now, as he began 
 again, it was with a look of tender sweetness : "It 
 was far back in Second-month, 1771, I began to be 
 encompassed by doubts as to the course Friends were 
 taking. To-day I am assured in spirit that you are 
 wrong in the support you gave, and, let me say, are 
 giving, to an unjust cause. I think I take an inno 
 cent liberty to express myself on this occasion, also 
 according to the prospect I have of the matter. 
 There is something due to the king, and something 
 to the cause of the public. When kings deviate from 
 the righteous law of justice in which kings ought to 
 rule, it is the right, aye, and the religious duty, of the 
 people to be plain and honest in letting them know 
 where. I am not a person of such consequence as 
 to dictate ; but there is in me and in you a court, to 
 which I confidently appeal. I have appealed to it in 
 prayer, as to what my course shall be. I obey my 
 conscience. Take heed that you do not act rashly." 
 
 Here again, after these calm words, he paused, and 
 then said, with emphatic sternness, "As my last 
 words, let me leave with you the admonition of the 
 great founder of this colony. I beseech you/ he 
 says, for the sake of Christ, who so sharply pro 
 hibited making others suffer for their religion, that 
 
HUGH WYNNE 147 
 
 you have a care how you exercise power over other 
 men s consciences. My friends, conscience is God s 
 throne in man, and the power of it His prerogative ! 
 These are solemn words. Whether you leave me to 
 live among you, free to do what seems right to me, 
 or drive me forth, who have no wish to go, now and 
 always I shall love you. That love you cannot take 
 away, nor weaken, nor disturb." 
 
 I was sorry when the melody of this clear voice 
 ceased. The speaker, wiping the moisture from his 
 brow, stood still, and, covering his face with his hands, 
 was lost in the prayer which I doubt not followed. 
 
 A long interval of absence of all sound came after 
 he ceased to speak. No one replied. The matter was 
 closed, a decision reached, and the clerk instructed. 
 I knew enough to feel sure that those manly tones 
 of appeal and remonstrance had failed of their 
 purpose. 
 
 At this moment I saw an elderly man on the seat 
 before me rise, and with deliberateness kneel in 
 prayer j or, as Friends say, Israel Sharpless appeared 
 in supplication. At first, as he began to be heard, 
 Friends rose here and there, until all were afoot and 
 all uncovered. The silence and reverent bended heads, 
 and the dim light, affected me as never before. Many 
 turned their backs on the praying man, an odd cus 
 tom, but common. As he prayed his voice rose until 
 it filled the great room ; and of a sudden I started, 
 and broke out in a cold sweat, for this was what I 
 heard : 
 
 " O Lord, arise, and let Thine enemies be scattered 
 
148 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Dip me deeper in Jordan. Wash me in the laver of 
 regeneration. Give me courage to wrestle with ill- 
 doers. Let my applications be heard. 
 
 "Father of mercy, remember of Thy pity those of 
 the young among us who, being fallen into evil ways, 
 are gone astray. We pray that they who have gam 
 bled and drunk and brought to shame and sorrow 
 their elders may be recovered into a better mind, 
 and sin no more. We pray Thee, Almighty Father, 
 that they be led to consider and to repent of deeds 
 of violence, that those among us whom the confusion 
 of the times has set against the law and authority of 
 rulers be better counselled ; or, if not, strengthen us 
 so to deal with these young men as shall make pure 
 again Thy sheepfold, that they be no longer a means 
 of leading others into wickedness and debauchery." 
 I heard no more. This man was a close friend of my 
 father. I knew but too well that it was I who was 
 thus reproved, and thus put to shame. I looked this 
 way and that, the hot blood in my face, thinking to 
 escape. Custom held me. I caught, as I stared, 
 furtive glances from some of the younger folk. Here 
 and there some sweet, gentle face considered me a 
 moment with pity, or with a curiosity too strong for 
 even the grim discipline of Friends. I stood erect. 
 The prayer went on. Now and then I caught a phrase, 
 but the most part of what he said was lost to me. I 
 looked about me at times with the anguish of a 
 trapped animal. 
 
 At last I saw that my gentle- voiced speaker, Weth- 
 erill, was, like myself, rigid, with upheld head, and 
 
HUGH WYNNE 149 
 
 that, with a faint smile on his face, he was looking 
 toward me. Minute after minute passed. Would 
 they never be done with it ? I began to wonder what 
 was going on under those bent gray hats and black 
 bonnets. I was far away from penitence or remorse, a 
 bruised and tormented man, helpless, if ever a man was 
 helpless, under the monotonous and silent reproach of 
 some hundreds of people who had condemned me un 
 heard. It did seem as if it never would end. 
 
 At last the voice died out. The man rose, and put 
 on his hat. All resumed their seats and their head- 
 coverings. I saw that Friend Scattergood extended a 
 hand to my father, who was, as I have not yet stated, 
 an elder. The grasp was accepted. Elders and over 
 seers, both men and women, rose, and we also. I 
 pushed my way out, rudely, I fear. At the door 
 James Pemberton put out his hand. I looked him 
 full in the face, and turned away from the too inquis 
 itive looks of the younger Friends. I went by my 
 father without a word. He could not have known 
 what pain his method of saving my soul would cost 
 me. That he had been in some way active in the 
 matter I did not doubt, and I knew later that my 
 opinion was but too correct. 
 
 Hastening down Front street with an overwhelm 
 ing desire to be alone, I paused at our own door, and 
 then, late as it was, now close to ten, I unmoored my 
 boat, and was about to push off when I felt a hand 
 on my shoulder. It was Samuel Wetherill. 
 
 "Let me go with thee, my boy," he said. "We 
 should talk a little, thou and I." 
 
150 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 I said, " Yes. Thou art the only man I want to 
 see to-night." 
 
 There were no more words. The moon was up as I 
 pulled down Dock Creek and out on my friendly river. 
 
 " Let thy boat drift," he said. " Perhaps thou art 
 aware, Hugh Wynne, how grieved I was ; for I know 
 all that went before. I somehow think that thou 
 hast already done for thyself what these good folk 
 seemed to think was needed. Am I right ? " 
 
 "Yes," I said. 
 
 " Then say no more. James Wilson has spoken 
 of thee often. To be loved of such a man is much. 
 I hear that thou hast been led to think with us, and 
 that, despite those wicked wild oats, thou art a young 
 man of parts and good feelings, thoughtful beyond 
 thy years." 
 
 I thanked him almost in tears; for this kindly 
 judgment was, past belief, the best remedy I could 
 have had. 
 
 "I saw thy great suffering; but in a year, in a 
 month, this will seem a thing of no import; only, 
 when thou art calm and canst think, hold a Meeting 
 in thy own heart, and ask thy quiet judgment, thy 
 conscience, thy memory, if prayer be needed ; and do 
 it for thyself, Hugh." 
 
 I said, " Thank thee," but no more. I have ever 
 been averse to talking of my relations to another 
 world,- or of what I believe, or of what I am led 
 thereby to do in hours of self-communion. I sat 
 wishing my father were like this, a tender-hearted 
 yet resolute man. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 151 
 
 Seeing me indisposed to speak, he went on : " If we 
 could but keep the better part of Friends creed, and 
 be set free to live at peace with the law, to realise 
 that to sit down quietly under oppression may be to 
 serve the devil, and not God ! Thou knowest, as well 
 as I, that divers Friends have publicly avowed the 
 ministry, and allege that whatever they may do is a 
 just punishment of rebellion. We are going to have 
 a serious settlement, and it will become us all, Hugh, 
 young and old, to see that we are on the right side, 
 even if we have to draw the sword. And thou and 
 I shall not be alone of Friends. There are Clement 
 and Owen Biddle, and Christopher Marshall, and 
 more." 
 
 I was surprised, and said so. 
 
 " Yes, yes," he said ; " but I talk to thee as to a 
 man, and these things are not to be spread abroad. 
 I trust I have been to thee a comfort ; and, now the 
 moon is setting, let us go home." 
 
 I thanked him as well as I knew how. He had 
 indeed consoled me. 
 
 When I came in my father had gone to bed, but 
 my mother was waiting to see me. She caught me 
 in her arms, and, weeping like a child, cried, " Oh, I 
 have heard ! He did not tell me beforehand, or I 
 should have forbade it. Thou shouldst never have 
 gone ! never ! It was cruel ! Mon Dieu ! how could 
 they do it ! " 
 
 It was I who now had to comfort, and this helped 
 me amazingly, and yet added to my just anger; 
 for why must she, who was innocent, be thus made 
 
152 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 to suffer ? My father, when he came in, had asked 
 for me. He had met my cousin, who had seen me 
 going down Front street, and had hinted that I meant 
 to find comfort at the coffee-house among the officers. 
 She knew better, and had said her mind of this kins 
 man and his ways j upon which my father had gone 
 angry to his bed. I was beginning to have an in 
 creasing distrust and dislike of Arthur, and the 
 present news did not lessen either feeling. So at 
 last here was an end of the consequences of my sad 
 night at the coffee-house. 
 
OF TFT F. 
 
 UNIVERSI 
 
 XI 
 
 [HE next day we went to our farm in 
 Merion. My father said no word of the 
 Meeting, nor did I. The summer of 7 73 
 went on. I rode in to my work daily, 
 sometimes with my father, who talked 
 almost altogether of his cattle or of his ventures, 
 never of the lowering political horizon. He had ex 
 cused himself from being a consignee of the tea, on 
 the score of his voyage, which was now intended for 
 September. 
 
 My aunt lived in summer on the farther slope of 
 Chestnut Hill, where, when the road was in order, 
 came her friends for a night, and the usual card-play. 
 When of a Saturday I was set free, I delighted to 
 ride over and spend Sunday with her, my way being 
 across country to one of the fords on the Schuylkill, 
 or out from town by the Ridge or the Germantown 
 highroad. The ride was long, but, with my saddle 
 bags and Lucy, a new mare my aunt had raised and 
 given me, and clad in overalls, which we called tongs, 
 I cared little for the mud, and often enough stopped 
 to assist a chaise out of the deep holes, which made 
 the roads dangerous for vehicles. 
 Late one day in August, I set out with my friend 
 
 153 
 
154 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Jack to spend a Sunday with my Aunt Gainor. 
 Jack Warder was now a prime favourite, and highly 
 approved. We rode up Front street, and crossed the 
 bridge where Mulberry street passed under it, and is 
 therefore to this day called Arch street, although few 
 know why. The gay coats of officers were plentiful, 
 farmers in their smocks were driving in with their 
 vegetables, and to the right was the river, with here 
 and there a ship, and, beyond, the windmill on the 
 island. We talked of the times, of books, of my father s 
 voyage, and of my future stay with my aunt. 
 
 Although Jack s father was a Quaker, he was too 
 discreet a business man not to approve of Jack s 
 visits to my aunt, and too worldly not to wish for 
 his son a society to which he was not born ; so Mrs. 
 Ferguson and Mrs. Galloway made much of Jack, 
 and he was welcome, like myself, at Cliveden, where 
 the Chews had their summer home. 
 
 The Tory ladies laughed at his way of blushing 
 like a girl, and, to Jack s dismay, openly envied his 
 pink-and-white skin and fair locks. They treated 
 him as if he were younger than I, although, as it 
 chanced, we were born on the same day of the same 
 year; and yet he liked it all the gay women, the 
 coquettish Tory maids, even the "genteel" Quaker 
 dames, such as Mrs. Sarah Logan or Mrs. Morris, 
 and the pretty girls of the other side, like Sarah 
 Lukens and the Misses Willing, with their family 
 gift of beauty. These and more came and went at my 
 aunt s, with men of all parties, and the grave Drs. Rush 
 and Parke, and a changing group of English officers. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 155 
 
 In the little old house at Belmont, the Rev. Richard 
 Peters was glad to sit at cards with the Tory ladies, 
 whose cause was not his, and still less that of Richard, 
 his nephew. At times, as was the custom, sleigh 
 ing parties in winter or riding-parties in summer 
 used to meet at Cliveden or Springetsbury, or at a 
 farm-house where John Penn dwelt while engaged 
 in building the great house of Lansdowne, looking 
 over trees to the quiet Schuylkill. 
 
 We rode out gaily this August afternoon, along 
 the Germantown road, admiring the fine farms, and 
 the forests still left among the cultivated lands. 
 Near Fisher s Lane we saw some two or three peo 
 ple in the road, and, drawing near, dismounted. 
 A black man, who lay on the ground, groaning with 
 a cut head, and just coming to himself, I saw to be 
 my aunt s coachman Caesar. Beside him, held by a 
 farmer, was a horse with a pillion and saddle, all 
 muddy enough from a fall. Near by stood a slight 
 young woman in a saveguard petticoat and a sad- 
 coloured, short camlet cloak. 
 
 " It is Miss Darthea Peniston," said Jack. 
 
 " Miss Peniston," I said, dismounting, " what has 
 happened f " 
 
 She told me quietly, that, riding pillion to stay 
 with my aunt, the horse had fallen and hurt Caesar, 
 not badly, she thought. She had alighted on her 
 feet, but what should she do? After some dis 
 cussion, and the black being better, we settled to 
 leave him, and I proposed that Jack, the lighter 
 weight, should ride my Aunt Gainor s horse, with 
 
156 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Miss Peniston on the pillion behind him. Upon this 
 Jack got red, at the idea, I suppose, of Miss Darthea s 
 contemplating the back of his head for four miles. 
 The young woman looked on with shy amusement. 
 
 At this moment Caesar, a much pampered person, 
 who alone of all her house dared give my aunt ad 
 vice, declared he must have a doctor. Jack, much 
 relieved, said it was inhuman to leave him in this 
 case, and put an end to our discussion by riding 
 away to fetch old Dr. de Benneville. 
 
 Miss Darthea laughed, said it was a sad thing a 
 woman should have no choice, and pretended to be 
 in misery as to my unfortunate lot. I said nothing, 
 but, after looking Cesar s horse over, I gave my sad 
 dle to be kept at the farmer s, and put the coachman s 
 saddle on my mare Lucy, with the pillion behind 
 made fast to the saddle-straps arranged for this use. 
 Then I looked well to the girths, and mounted to see 
 how Lucy would like it. She liked it not at all, and 
 was presently all over the road and up against the 
 fence of the old graveyard I was to see again in other 
 and wilder days. 
 
 I saw the little lady in the road watching me with 
 a smiling face, by no means ill pleased with the spec 
 tacle. At last I cried, " Wait ! " and putting Miss Lucy 
 down the road for a mile at a run, soon brought her 
 back quite submissive. 
 
 "Art thou afraid?" I said. 
 
 " I do not like to be asked if I am afraid. I am 
 very much afraid, but I would die rather than not get 
 on your mare." So a chair was fetched, Miss Penis- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 157 
 
 ton put on her linen riding-mask, and in a moment 
 was seated behind me. For ten minutes I was fully 
 taken up with the feminine creature under me. At 
 last I said : 
 
 "Put an arm around my waist. I must let her 
 go. At once ! " I added ; for the mare was getting to 
 rear a little, and the young woman hesitated. " Do 
 as I tell thee ! " I cried sharply, and when I felt her 
 right arm about me, I said, " Hold, fast ! " and gave 
 the mare her head. A mile sufficed, with the double 
 burden, so to quiet her that she came down to her 
 usual swift and steady walk. 
 
 When there was this chance to talk without hav 
 ing every word jolted out in fragments, the young 
 person was silent; and when I remarked, "There 
 is now an opportunity to chat with comfort," said : 
 
 " I was waiting, sir, to hear your excuses ; but per 
 haps Friends do not apologise." 
 
 I thought her saucy, for I had done my best ; and 
 for her to think me unmannerly was neither just nor 
 kind. 
 
 "If I am of thy friends" 
 
 " Oh, Quakers, I meant. Friends with a large F, 
 Mr. Wynne." 
 
 "It had been no jesting matter if the mare had 
 given thee a hard fall." 
 
 " I should have liked that better than to be ordered 
 to do as your worship thought fit." 
 
 " Then thou shouldst not have obeyed me." 
 
 " But I had to." 
 
 " Yes," I said. And the talk having fallen into these 
 
158 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 brevities, Miss Peniston was quiet awhile, no doubt 
 pouting prettily ; her face was, of course, hid from me. 
 
 After a while she said something about the mile 
 stones being near together, and then took to praising 
 Lucy, who, I must say, had behaved as ill as a horse 
 could. I said as much, whereon I was told that 
 mares were jealous animals; which I thought a 
 queer speech, and replied, not knowing well how to 
 reply, that the mare was a good beast, and that it 
 was fair flattery to praise a man s horse, for what 
 was best in the horse came of the man s handling. 
 
 " But even praise of his watch a man likes," said 
 she. "He has a fine appetite, and likes to fatten 
 his vanity." 
 
 She was too quick for me in those days, and I never 
 was at any time very smart at this game, having to 
 reflect too long before seeing my way. I said that 
 she was no doubt right, but thus far that I had 
 had thin diet. 
 
 Perhaps saying that Lucy was gay and well bred 
 and had good paces was meant to please the rider. 
 This woman, as I found later, was capable of many 
 varieties of social conduct, and was not above flatter 
 ing for the mere pleasure it gave her to indulge her 
 generosity, and for the joy she had in seeing others 
 happy. 
 
 Wondering if what she had said might be true, 
 held me quiet for a while, and busied with her words, 
 I quite forgot the young woman whose breath I felt 
 now and then on my hair, as she sat behind me. 
 
 Silence never suited Miss Peniston long in those 
 
HUGH WYNNE 159 
 
 days, and especially not at this time, she being in a 
 merry mood, such as a little adventure causes. Her 
 moods were, in fact, many and changeful, and, as I 
 was to learn, were too apt to rule even her serious 
 actions for the time ; but under it all was the true 
 law of her life, strongly charactered, and abiding 
 like the constitution of a land. It was long before I 
 knew the real woman, since for her, as for the most 
 of us, all early acquaintance was a masquerade, and 
 some have, like this lady, as many vizards as my 
 Aunt Grainor had in her sandalwood box, with her 
 long gloves and her mitts. 
 
 The mare being now satisfied to walk comfortably, 
 we were going by the Wister house, when I saw saucy 
 young Sally Wister in the balcony over the stoop, 
 midway of the penthouse. She knew us both, and 
 pretended shame for us, with her hands over her 
 face, laughing merrily. We were friends in after 
 life, and if you would know how gay a creature 
 a young Quakeress could be, and how full of mis 
 chief, you should see her journal, kept for Deborah 
 Logan, then Miss Norris. It has wonderful gaiety, 
 and, as I read it, fetches back to mind the officers 
 she prettily sketches, and is so sprightly and so full 
 of a life that must have been a joy to itself and to 
 others, that to think of it as gone and over, and of 
 her as dead, seems to me a thing impossible. 
 
 It was not thought proper then for a young woman 
 to go on pillion behind a young man, and this Mi: s 
 Sally well knew. I dare say she set it down for the 
 edification of her young friend. 
 
160 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "The child" (she was rather more than that) "is 
 saucy," said my lady, who understood well enough 
 what her gestures meant. " I should like to box her 
 ears. You were very silent just now, Mr. Wynne. 
 A penny is what most folks thoughts are bid for, 
 but yours may be worth more. I would not stand 
 at a shilling." 
 
 " Then give it to me," said I. "I assure thee a 
 guinea were too little." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 " Oh, but the shilling." 
 
 " I promise." 
 
 " I seem to see a little, dark-faced child crying be 
 cause of a boy in disgrace" 
 
 "Pretty?" she asked demurely. 
 
 " No, rather plain." 
 
 " You seem to have too good a memory, sir. Who 
 was she ? " 
 
 " She is not here to-day." 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " she cried. " I have her oh, some 
 where ! She comes out on occasions. You may 
 never see her ; you may see her to-morrow." 
 
 I was to see her often. " My shilling," I said. 
 
 " That was only a jest, Mr. Wynne. My other 
 girl has stolen it, for remembrance of a lad that was 
 brave and" 
 
 " He was a young fool ! My shilling, please." 
 
 "No, no!" 
 
 At this I touched the mare with my spur. She, 
 not seeing the joke, pranced about, and Miss Darthea 
 was forced to hold to my waist for a minute. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 161 
 
 " The mare is ill broke," she cried. " Why does 
 she not go along quietly?" 
 
 " She hates dishonesty/ 7 1 said. 
 
 " But I have not a penny." 
 
 "Thou shouldst never run in debt if thou art 
 without means. It is worse than gambling, since 
 here thou hast had a consideration for thy money, 
 and I am out of pocket by a valuable thought." 
 
 1 I am very bad. I may get prayed over in Meeting, 
 only we do not have the custom at Christ Church." 
 
 I was struck dumb. Of course every one knew of 
 my disaster and what came of it ; but that a young 
 girl should taunt me with it, and for no reason, 
 seemed incredible. No one ever spoke of it to me, 
 not even Mistress Ferguson, whose daily food was 
 the saying of things no one else dared to say. I rode 
 on without a word. 
 
 At last I heard a voice back of me quite changed 
 tender, almost tearful. "Will you pardon me, 
 Mr. Wynne ? I was wicked, and now I have hurt 
 you who was once so good to me. Your aunt says 
 that I am six girls, not one, and that Will you 
 please to forgive me ? " 
 
 " Pray don t ; there is nothing to forgive. I am 
 over-sensitive, I suppose. My friend Mr. Wilson 
 says it is a great thing in life to learn how to forget 
 wisely. I am learning the lesson ; but some wounds 
 take long to heal, and this is true of a boy s folly. 
 Pray say no more." I put the mare to -trotting, and 
 we rode on past Cliveden and Mount Airy, neither 
 speakfng for a while. 
 11 
 
162 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 I wondered, as we rode, at her rashness of talk and 
 her want of consideration ; and I reflected, with a 
 certain surprise, at the frequent discovery, of late, 
 on how much older I seemed to be. It was a 
 time which quickly matured the thoughtful, and I 
 was beginning to shake off, in some degree, the life 
 long shackles of limitation as to conduct, dress, and 
 minor morals, imposed upon me by my home sur 
 roundings. In a word, being older than my years, I 
 began to think for myself. Under the influence of 
 Mr. Wetherill I had come, as without him I could not 
 have done, to see how much there was of the beauti 
 ful and noble in the creed of Fox and Penn, how 
 much, too, there was in it to cramp enterprise, to 
 limit the innocent joys of life, to render progress 
 impossible, and submission to every base man or 
 government a duty. 
 
 I had learned, too, in my aunt s house, the ways 
 and manners of a larger world, and, if I had yielded 
 to its temptations, I had at least profited by the bit 
 ter lesson. I was on the verge of manhood, and had 
 begun to feel as I had never done before the charm 
 of woman ; this as yet I hardly knew. 
 
 As we breasted the hill, and saw beneath us 
 the great forest-land spread out, with its scattered 
 farms, an exclamation of delight broke from my 
 companion s lips. It was beautiful then, as it is to 
 day, with the far-seen range of hills beyond the river, 
 where lay the Valley Forge I was to know so well, and 
 Whitemarsh, all under the hazy blue of a cool August 
 day, with the northwest wind blowing in iny face. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 163 
 
 Within there were my aunt and some young wo 
 men, and my Cousin Arthur, with explanations to be 
 made, after which my young woman hurried off to 
 make her toilet, and I to rid me of my riding-dress. 
 
 It was about seven when we assembled out of doors 
 under the trees, where on summer days my Aunt 
 Gainor liked to have supper served. My Cousin 
 Wynne left Mrs. Ferguson and came to meet me. 
 We strolled apart, and he began to ask me questions 
 about the tea cargoes expected soon, but which came 
 not until December. I said my father s voyage would 
 prevent his acting as consignee, and this seemed to 
 surprise him and make him thoughtful, perhaps be 
 cause he was aware of my father s unflinching loyalty. 
 He spoke, too, of Mr. Wilson, appearing and this 
 was natural enough to know of my intimacy with 
 the Whig gentleman. I was cautious in my replies, 
 and he learned, I think, but little. It was a pity, he 
 said, that my father would not visit Wyncote. It 
 seemed to me that he dwelt overmuch on this matter, 
 and my aunt, who greatly fancied him, was also of this 
 opinion. I learned long after that he desired to 
 feel entirely assured as to the certainty of this visit 
 not being made. I said now that I wished I had my 
 father s chance to see our Welsh home, and that I 
 often felt sorry my grandfather had given it up. 
 
 " But he did," said my cousin, " and no great thing, 
 either. Here you are important people. We are 
 petty Welsh squires, in a decaying old house, with 
 no money, and altogether small folk. I should like 
 to change places with you." 
 
164 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "And yet I regret it," said I. My Aunt Gainor 
 had filled me full of the pride of race. 
 
 I spoke as we approached the group about my 
 aunt, and I saw his face take an expression which 
 struck me. He had a way of half closing his eyes, 
 and letting his jaw drop a little. I saw it often after 
 ward. I suspect now that he was dealing intensely 
 with some problem which puzzled him. 
 
 He seemed to me to be entirely unconscious of this 
 singular expression of face, or, as at this time, to be 
 off his guard ; for the look did not change, although 
 I was gazing at him with attention. Suddenly I 
 saw come down the green alley, walled with well- 
 trimmed box, a fresh vision of her who had been 
 riding with me so lately. My cousin also became 
 aware of the figure which passed gaily under the 
 trees and smiled at us from afar. 
 
 " By George ! Hugh/ 7 said Arthur, " who is the 
 sylph ? what grace ! what grace ! " 
 
 For a moment I did not reply. She wore a silken 
 brocade with little broidered roses here and there, a 
 bodice of the same, cut square over a girl-like neck, 
 white, and not yet filled up. Her long gloves were 
 held up to the sleeve by tightens of plaited white 
 horsehair, which held a red rosebud in each tie ; and 
 her hair was braided with a ribbon, and set high in 
 coils on her head, with but little powder. As she 
 came to meet us she dropped a curtsey, and kissed 
 my aunt s hand, as was expected of young people. 
 
 I have tried since to think what made her so un 
 like other women. It was not the singular grace 
 
HUGH WYNNE 165 
 
 which had at once struck my cousin j neither was 
 she beautiful. I long after hated Miss Chew for an 
 hour because she said Darthea Peniston had not one 
 perfect feature. She had, notwithstanding, clear, 
 large brown eyes, and a smile which was so vari 
 ously eloquent that no man saw it unmoved. This 
 was not all. Her face had some of that charm of 
 mystery which a few women possess a questioning 
 look; but, above all, there was a strange flavour of 
 feminine attractiveness, more common in those who 
 are older than she, and fuller in bud ; rare, I think, 
 in one whose virgin curves have not yet come to 
 maturity. What she was to me that summer even 
 ing she was to all men a creature of many moods, 
 and of great power to express them in face and voice. 
 She was young, she loved admiration, and could be 
 carried off her feet at times by the follies of the 
 gay world. 
 
 If you should wonder how, at this distant day, I 
 can recall her dress, I may say that one of my aunt s 
 lessons was that a man should notice how a woman 
 dressed, and not fail at times to compliment a gown, 
 or a pretty fashion of hair. You may see that I had 
 some queer schoolmasters. 
 
 I said to my cousin, " That is Miss Darthea Pen 
 iston." 
 
 "Darthea/ 7 he repeated. "She looks the name. 
 Sad if she had been called Deborah, or some of your 
 infernally idiotic Scripture names." 
 
 He was duly presented, and, I must say, made the 
 most of his chances for two days, so that the elder 
 
166 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 dames were amused at Darthea s conquest, my cousin 
 having so far shown no marked preference for any 
 one except the elder Miss Franks, who was rich and 
 charming enough to have many men at her feet, 
 despite her Hebrew blood. 
 
 In truth he had been hit hard that fatal August 
 afternoon, and he proved a bold and constant wooer. 
 With me it was a more tardy influence which the fair 
 Darthea as surety exerted. I was troubled and dis 
 turbed at the constancy of my growing and ardent 
 affection. At first I scarce knew why, but by and 
 by I knew too well j and the more hopeless became 
 the business, the more resolute did I grow ; this is 
 my way and nature. 
 
 During the remaining weeks of summer I saw 
 much of Miss Peniston, and almost imperceptibly 
 was made at last to feel, for the first time in my life, 
 the mysterious influence of woman. Now and then 
 we rode with my aunt, or went to see the troops re 
 viewed. I thought she liked me, but it soon became 
 only too clear that at this game, where hearts were 
 trumps, I was no match for my dark, handsome 
 cousin, in his brilliant uniform. 
 
XII 
 
 |N September 1, 1773, and earlier than 
 had been meant, my father set sail for 
 London with my ever dear mother. 
 Many assembled to see the "Fair Trader" 
 leave her moorings. I went with my 
 people as far as Lewes, and on account of weather 
 had much ado to get ashore. The voyage down the 
 Delaware was slow, for from want of proper lights 
 we must needs lay by at night, and if winds were 
 contrary were forced to wait for the ebb. 
 
 While I was with them my father spoke much to 
 me of business, but neither blamed my past, nor praised 
 my later care and assiduity in affairs. He was sure 
 the king would have his way, and, I thought, felt sorry 
 to have so readily given up the consigneeship of the 
 teas. I was otherwise minded, and I asked what was 
 to be done in the event of certain troubles such as 
 many feared. He said that Thomas, his old clerk, 
 would decide, and my Aunt Grainor had a power of 
 attorney ; as to the troubles I spoke of, he well 
 knew that I meant such idle disturbances of peace 
 as James Wilson and Wetherill were doing their 
 best to bring about. 
 
 "Thy Cousin Arthur is better advised," he said, 
 167 
 
168 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " and a man of sound judgment. Thou mightst seek 
 worse counsel on occasion of need." 
 
 I was surprised at this, for I should have believed, 
 save as to the king, they could not have had one 
 opinion in common. 
 
 Far other were those sweeter talks I had with my 
 mother, as we sat on the deck in a blaze of sunlight. 
 She burned ever a handsome brown, without freckles, 
 and loved to sit out, even in our great heats. She 
 would have me be careful at my aunt s not to be led 
 into idleness ; for the rest I had her honest trust ; and 
 her blue eyes, bright with precious tears, declared 
 her love, and hopeful belief. I must not neglect my 
 French it would keep her in mind ; and she went 
 on in that tongue to say what a joy I had been in 
 her life, and how even my follies had let her see how 
 true a gentleman I was. Then, and never before, 
 did she say a thing which left on my mind a fear 
 that life had not brought and kept for her through 
 out all the happiness which so good and noble a 
 creature deserved. 
 
 There is much of thy father in thee, Hugh. Thou 
 art firm as he is, and fond of thine own way. This 
 is not bad, if thou art thoughtful to see that thy way 
 is a good way. But do not grow hard. And when 
 thou art come to love some good woman, do not 
 make her life a struggle." 
 
 " But I love no woman, ma mere" I cried, " and 
 never shall, as I love thee. It is the whole of my love 
 thou hast, cJiere, chere maman ; thou hast it all." 
 
 " Ah, then I shall know to divide with her, Hugh j 
 
HUGH WYNNE 169 
 
 and I shall be generous too. If thou hast any little 
 fancies that way, thou must write and tell me. Oh, 
 man fils, thou wilt write often, and I must know 
 all the news. I do hear that Darthea Peniston is in 
 thy aunt s house a good deal, and Madam Ferguson, 
 the gossip, would have me believe thou carest for her, 
 and that Arthur Wynne is taken in the same net. I 
 liked her. I did not tell thee that thy Aunt Gainor 
 left her with me for an hour while she went into 
 King street to bargain for a great china god. What 
 a gay, winning creature it is ! She must needs tell 
 me all about herself. Why do people so unlock 
 their hearts for me?" 
 
 I laughed, and said she had a key called love ; and 
 on this she kissed me, and asked did I say such pretty 
 things to other women ? Darthea was now to live 
 with her aunt, that stiff Mistress Peniston, who was 
 a fierce Tory. " She will have a fine bargain of the 
 girl. She has twenty ways with her, real or false, 
 and can make music of them all like a mocking-bird. 
 Dost thou like her, Hugh? I mean Darthea." 
 
 I said, "Yes." 
 
 " And so do I," she ran on. "I loved her at sight. 
 But if ever thou dost come to love her and I see 
 signs, oh, I see signs if ever, then beware of thy 
 Cousin Wynne. I heard him once say to thy father, 
 1 If there is only one glass of the Madeira left, I want 
 it, because there is only one. And there is only one 
 of a good woman. What another wants that man 
 is sure to want, and I do not like him, Hugh. Thou 
 dost, I think. He has some reason to linger here. 
 
 OF Ti 
 
170 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Is it this woman ? Or would he spy out the land to 
 know what we mean to do ? I am sure he has orders 
 to watch the way things are going, or why should not 
 he have gone with Sir Guy Carleton to Quebec ? It 
 is a roundabout way to go through Philadelphia." 
 
 I said I did not know ; but her words set me to 
 thinking, and to wondering, too, as I had not done 
 before. Another time she asked me why Arthur 
 talked so as to disgust my father out of all idea of 
 going to see the home of his ancestors. I promised 
 to be careful as to my cousin, whom, to tell the truth, 
 I liked less and less as time ran on. 
 
 At Lewes we parted. Shall I ever forget it? 
 Those great blue eyes above the gunwale, and then 
 a white handkerchief, and then no more. When I 
 could no longer see the ship s hull I climbed a great 
 sand-dune, and watched even the masts vanish on 
 the far horizon. It was to me a solemn parting. 
 The seas were wide and perilous in those days, the 
 buccaneers not all gone, and the trading ship was 
 small, I thought, to carry a load so precious. 
 
 As the sun went down I walked over the dunes, 
 which are of white sand, and forever shifting, so as 
 at one time to threaten with slow burial the little 
 town, and at another to be moving on to the forest. 
 As they changed, old wrecks came into view, and I 
 myself saw sticking out the bones of sailors buried 
 here long ago, or haply cast ashore. A yet stranger 
 thing I beheld, for the strong northwest wind, which 
 blew hard all day and favoured the " Fair Trader," had 
 so cast about the fine sand that the buried snow of 
 
HUGH WYNNE 171 
 
 last winter was to be seen, which seemed to me a 
 thing most singular. When I told Jack, he made 
 verses about it, as he did sometimes, but would 
 show them only to me. I forget entirely what 
 he wrote; how a man can make verses and dig 
 rhymes out of his head has always been to me a 
 puzzle. 
 
 At the town inn, " The Lucky Fisherman," I saw, 
 to my surprise, Jack on horseback, just arrived. He 
 said he had a debt to collect for his father. It was 
 no doubt true, for Jack could not tell even the 
 mildest fib and not get rose-red. But he knew how 
 I grieved at this separation from my mother, and, I 
 think, made an occasion to come down and bear me 
 company on my long ride home. I was truly glad to 
 have him. Together we wandered through the great 
 woodlands Mr. Penn had set aside to provide fire 
 wood forever for the poor of Lewes. 
 
 The next day we sent Tom on ahead with our sacks 
 to Newcastle, where we meant to bait ourselves and 
 our horses. But first we rode down the coast to 
 Rehoboth, and had a noble sea-bath j also above the 
 beach was a bit of a fresh- water lake, most delicious 
 to take the salt off the skin. After this diversion, 
 which as usual dismissed my blue devils, we set out 
 up the coast of the Bay of Delaware, and were able 
 to reach Newcastle that evening, and the day after 
 our own homes. 
 
 This ride gave us a fine chance for talk, and we 
 made good use of it. 
 
 As we passed between the hedges and below the 
 
172 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 old Swede church nigh to Wilmington, Jack fell into 
 talk of Darthea Peniston. Why we had not done so 
 before I knew not then j we were both shy of the 
 subject. I amused myself by insisting that she was 
 but a light-minded young woman with no strong 
 basis of character, and too fond of a red coat. It 
 did amuse me to see how this vexed Jack, who 
 would by no means accept my verdict. We con 
 versed far longer on the stormy quarrels of the 
 colonies and their stepmother England, who seemed 
 to have quite forgot of what blood and breed they 
 were. 
 
 Concerning my Cousin Wynne, with whom at first 
 I had been much taken, Jack was not inclined to 
 speak freely. This I foolishly thought was because 
 Arthur laughed at him, and was, as he knew, of 
 some folks notion that Jack was a feminine kind of 
 a fellow. That he had the quick insight and the 
 heart of a woman was true, but that was not all of 
 my dear Jack. 
 
 My aunt came back to town early in September, 
 and I took up my abode in her town house, where a 
 new life began for me. Letters went and came at long 
 intervals. Our first reached me far on in October. 
 
 My mother wrote : " There is great anger here in 
 London because of this matter of the tea. Lord 
 Germaine says we are a tumultuous rabble; thy 
 father has been sent for by Lord North, and I fear 
 has spoken unadvisedly as to things at home. It is 
 not well for a wife to differ with her husband, and 
 this I will not ; nevertheless I am not fully of his 
 
HUGH WYNNE 173 
 
 way of thinking as to these sad troubles ; this, how 
 ever, is not for any eye or ear but thine. Benjamin 
 Franklin was here to see us last week. He seems to 
 think we might as well, or better, pay for the tea, 
 and this suited thy father ; but after thus agreeing 
 they went wide apart, Franklin having somewhat 
 shed his Quaker views. I did fear at times that the 
 talk would be strong. 
 
 " When he had gone away, thy father said he never 
 had the Spirit with him, and was ever of what creed 
 did most advantage him, and perhaps underneath of 
 none at all. But this I think not. He hath much 
 of the shrewd wisdom of New England, which I like 
 not greatly ; but as to this, I kncrw some who have 
 less of any wisdom, and, after all, I judge not a man 
 so wise, and so much my elder. 
 
 " General Gage, lately come hither on a visit, we 
 are told assured the king that no other colony would 
 stand by Massachusetts, and that four regiments 
 could put an end to the matter. I am no politician, 
 but it makes me angry to hear them talk of us as if 
 we were but a nursery of naughty children. It seems 
 we are to pay for the tea, and until we do no ships 
 may enter Boston harbour. Also all crown officers 
 who may commit murder are to be tried in England ; 
 and there is more, but I forget." 
 
 This was most of it fresh news to us. Meanwhile 
 Hutchinson, the governor of the rebel State, was 
 assuring Lord North that to resist was against our 
 interest, and we, being " a trading set," would never 
 go to extremes. " As if," said Wilson, " nations, like 
 
174 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 men, had not passions and emotions, as well as day 
 books and ledgers." 
 
 Meanwhile at home our private affairs were rapidly 
 wound up and put in good condition. My father 
 found it difficult to collect his English debts, and so 
 had to limit his purchases, which we stowed as they 
 came over, declining to sell. As business failed, I 
 was more and more at leisure, and much in the com 
 pany of my cousin, whom to-day I disliked, and to 
 morrow thought the most amusing and agreeable of 
 companions. He taught me to shoot ducks at League 
 Island, and chose a good fowling-piece for me. 
 
 On Sundays I went to hear my aunt s friend, the 
 Rev. Mr. White, preach at Christ Church, and would 
 not go to Meeting, despite Samuel Wetherill, whose 
 Society of Free Quakers did not come to life until 
 1780. Meanwhile by degrees I took to wearing finer 
 garments. Cards I would never touch, nor have I 
 often, to this day. 
 
 One morning, long after my parents left, my Aunt 
 Grainor looked me over with care, pleased at the 
 changes in my dress, and that evening she presented 
 me with two fine sets of neck and wrist ruffles, and 
 with paste buckles for knees and shoes. Then she told 
 me that my cousin, the captain, had recommended 
 Pike as a fencing-master, and she wished me to take 
 lessons 5 "for," said she, "who knows but you may 
 some day have another quarrel on your hands, and 
 then where will you be ? " 
 
 I declared that my father would be properly furi 
 ous ; but she laughed, and opened and shut her fan. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 175 
 
 and said he was three thousand miles away, and that 
 she was my guardian, and responsible for my educa 
 tion. I was by no means loath, and a day later went 
 to see the man with my Cousin Arthur, who asked, as 
 we went, many questions about my mother, and then 
 if my father had left England, or had been to Wyn- 
 cote. 
 
 I had, as he spoke, a letter in my pocket writ in 
 the neat characters I knew so well ; our clerk com 
 ing from New York had just given it to me, and as 
 I had not as yet read it, liking for this rare pleasure 
 to taste it when alone, I did not mention it to my 
 cousin. I told him I was sure my father would not 
 go to Wales, both because of business, and for other 
 reasons ; but I hoped when he came back to get leave 
 to be a year away, and then I should be sure to visit 
 our old nest. 
 
 My cousin said, "A year a year," musingly, and 
 asked when my parents would return. 
 
 I said, "About next October, and by the islands," 
 meaning the Madeiras. 
 
 To this Arthur Wynne returned, in an absent fash 
 ion, " Many things may happen in a year." 
 
 I laughed, and said his observation could not be 
 contradicted. 
 
 " What observation ? " he replied, and then seemed 
 so self-absorbed that I cried out : 
 
 " What possesses thee, Cousin Wynne ? Thou art 
 sad of late. I can tell thee the women say thou art 
 in love." 
 
 " And if I were, what then ? " 
 
176 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 This frankness in a man so mature seemed to me 
 odd, when I thought how shy was the growing ten 
 derness my own heart began to hide. His words 
 troubled me. It could only be Darthea Peniston. 
 After a silence, such as was frequent in my cousin, 
 he added, "I fear that blushing friend of yours is 
 fluttering about a certain bright candle. A pity 
 the lad were not warned. You are my cousin, 
 and of course my friend. I may have to go away 
 soon, and I may ask you to do a certain thing 
 for me when I am gone. No man nor lad shall 
 stand in my way, and you must hold your tongue 
 too." 
 
 I was puzzled and embarrassed. I said cautiously, 
 " We shall see." But as to Jack Warder, I liked not 
 what he said, and for two reasons. I knew that, 
 living next door to Darthea, he was with her almost 
 daily 5 and here was a new and terrible fear, for 
 who could help but love her? Nor could I hear 
 with patience Jack so contemptuously put aside as a 
 child. 
 
 "Cousin Arthur," I said, "thou art mistaken in 
 Warder. There is no more resolute or courageous 
 man. Jack s shy ways and soft fashions make him 
 seem like a timid girl, but I would advise no one to 
 count on this." I went on, hesitating, "He is an 
 older friend than thou, and holloa, Jack ! " for 
 here was the dear fellow himself, smiling and blush 
 ing; and where had the captain been of late? and 
 that awkward left hand was taken, and Jack would 
 come with us and see us play with the small sword, 
 
HUGH WYNNE 177 
 
 and would like to go after the ducks to-morrow. He 
 seemed happy and pleased to meet us. 
 
 Pike was a little man who had a room among the 
 shops on Second street. He wore, as I had often 
 seen, a laced cocked hat, and was clad in a red coat, 
 such as none wore except Creoles from the French 
 settlements, or gentlemen from the Carolinas. He had 
 the straight figure and aggressive look all men carry 
 who teach the sword, and a set belief that no man 
 could teach him anything a small game-cock of a 
 fellow, who had lost one eye by an unlucky thrust 
 of a foil. 
 
 I will let Jack s journal, not writ till long after, 
 tell the story for a while. He saw more than I at 
 the time, even if he understood it all as little. 
 
 " I saw Hugh strip, 77 he writes, " and was amused 
 to see Pike feel his muscles and exclaim at his depth 
 of chest. Then he showed him how to wear the wire 
 mask, while the captain and I sat by and looked on. 
 
 " Hugh was awkward, but he had a wrist of steel, 
 and when once he had caught the ideas of Pike, who 
 talked all the time in a squeaky voice, his guard was 
 firm. Pike praised him, and said he would learn 
 soon. The thing so attracted me that I was fain to 
 know how it felt to hold a foil ; and saying as much, 
 the captain, who fenced here daily, said : It is my 
 breathing- time of day, as Prince Hamlet says. By 
 George ! you should see Mr. Garrick in that fencing 
 scene ! I will give Mr. Warder a lesson. I have rather 
 a fancy for giving young men lessons. 7 
 
 "In a minute I saw my foil fly six feet away 
 
 12 
 
178 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 with such a wrench of the wrist as made my arm 
 tingle. 
 
 " Hold the foil lightly. Not so stiff/ said Pike, and 
 we began again. Of course I was as a child before 
 this man, and again and again he planted a button 
 where he pleased, and seemed, I thought, to lunge 
 more fiercely than is decent, for I was dotted with 
 blue bruises that evening. 
 
 " At last I gave up, and the captain and Pike took 
 the foils, while we sat and watched them. He was 
 more than a match for Pike, and at last crying, 
 1 Take care ! here is a botte you do not know/ caught 
 him fair in the left chest. 
 
 " By George ! Mr. Wynne, that is a pretty piece 
 of play ! I remember now Major Montresor tried to 
 show it to me. He said it was that way you killed 
 Lord Charles Trevor. 
 
 " I was shocked to know he had killed a man, and 
 Hugh looked up with his big mother-eyes, while the 
 captain said coolly : 
 
 " Yes ; a sad business, and about a woman, of 
 course. It is dreadful to have that kind of a dispo 
 sition, boys, that makes you dangerous to some one 
 who wants what you want. He was very young too. 
 A pity ! a pity ! 
 
 " Hugh and I said nothing ; but I had the odd no 
 tion that he was threatening us. One gets these 
 ideas vaguely in youth, and sometimes after-events 
 justify them. However, the fancy soon took me to 
 fence with Hugh in his room, for I dared not risk 
 asking my father s leave. As Hugh got his lessons 
 
HUGH WYNNE 179 
 
 both from Pike and the captain, and became very 
 expert, I got on pretty nearly as fast as he. 
 
 " At times we practised in our shirt-sleeves in the 
 garden at Miss Wynne s, or fenced with Gray do 11, 
 who was later the most expert small sword we had 
 in the army. Hugh soon became nearly as skilful, 
 but I was never as clever at it." 
 
 One day we were busy, as Jack has described, when 
 who should come out into the garden but Mistress 
 Wynne and Darthea, and behind them the captain. 
 We dropped our points, but Miss Peniston cried out, 
 " Go on ! go on ! " and, laughing, we fell to again. 
 
 Presently I, a bit distracted, for I was facing 
 Darthea s eyes, felt Jack s foil full on my chest. 
 Darthea clapped her hands, and, running forward, 
 would pin a bunch of red ribbons she took from her 
 shoulder on Jack s sleeve. Jack fell back, as red as 
 the ribbons, and my aunt cried out, "Darthea, you 
 are too forward ! " 
 
 The young woman flushed, and cast down the bow, 
 and as Arthur Wynne bent to pick it up set her foot 
 on it. I saw the captain rise, and stand with the half- 
 shut eyes and the little drop of the jaw I have already 
 mentioned. My aunt, who liked the girl well, went 
 after her at once as she left us in a pet to return to 
 the house. I saw my aunt put a hand on her shoul 
 der, and then the captain, looking vexed, followed 
 after. An hour later I went to look for the ribbon. 
 It was gone, and for years I knew not where, till, 
 in a little box in Jack s desk, I came upon it neatly 
 tied up. 
 
180 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Young as I was, I began to see that here were 
 Captain Wynne, and possibly my friend, in the toils 
 of a girl, she was but seventeen, and I, alas! no 
 better off ; but of this I breathed not a word to any. 
 Jack hung about her and fell back when any less 
 shy man wanted his place. I felt that he was little 
 likely to have his way, and that neither he nor I 
 had much chance in such a game against a man like 
 my cousin. He had played with hearts before, and 
 the maid listened like Desdemona to this dark-browed 
 soldier when he talked of courts and kings, and far 
 away Eastern battles, and the splendour of the Orient. 
 My aunt, whom nothing escaped, looked on much 
 amused. Perhaps she did not take as serious the 
 love-affairs of lads like Jack and me. We were like 
 enough to have a dozen before we were really cap 
 tured. That I was becoming at twenty-one more 
 thoughtful and resolute than far older people, she did 
 not see, and she was sometimes vexed at my sober 
 ways. I was at times gay enough, but at others she 
 would reproach me with not taking more pains to 
 please her guests. Society, she said, had duties as well 
 as pleasures. My friend Jack no one fully understood 
 in those days, nor knew the sweet manhood and the 
 unselfishness that lay beneath his girl-like exterior. 
 
 One day, late in November, my aunt and I were, 
 for a wonder, alone, when she dropped the cards with 
 which she was playing, and said to me : " Hugh, there 
 is something serious between that mischievous kitten 
 and your cousin. They are much talked of. If you 
 have a boy-fancy that way, get rid of it. I don t see 
 
HUGH WYNNE 181 
 
 through the man. He has been telling her about the 
 fine house at Wyncote, and the great estate, and how 
 some day he will have it, his elder brother being far 
 gone in a phthisis." 
 
 "There must be some mistake," I said. "Thou 
 knowest what he told my father." 
 
 " Yes ; I don t like it," she went on ; " but the girl 
 is caught. He talks of soon having to join Sir Guy 
 Carleton in Canada. And there is my dear girl-boy 
 trapped too, I fear. But, really, he is such a child 
 of a fellow it hardly matters. How many does she 
 want in her net ? The fish may squabble, I fear. A 
 sweet thing she is j cruel only by instinct ; and so 
 gay, so tender, so truthful and right-minded with 
 all her nonsense. No one can help loving her ; but 
 to-day she has one mood, and to-morrow another. 
 There will be a mad massacre before she is done 
 with you all. Run away, Hugh ! run ! Make love 
 to Kitty Shippen if you want to get Miss Dar- 
 thea." 
 
 I laughed, but I had little mirth in my heart. 
 
 " Aunt Gainor," I said, " I love that woman, and 
 no other man shall have her if I can help it." 
 
 " If ? if ? Stuff ! you can t help it. Don t be a fool ! 
 The sea is full of fish. This is news indeed." 
 
 "The land has but one Darthea," said I. "I am 
 a boy no longer, Aunt Gainor. Thou hast made me 
 tell thee, and, now it is out, I may as well say I know 
 all about my cousin. He as good as told me, and 
 in a way I did not like. The man thinks I am a boy 
 to be scared out of going my own way. I have told 
 
182 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 no one else ; but if I can get her I will, and it is no 
 laughing matter." 
 
 "I- am sorry, Hugh/ she said. "I knew not it 
 was so serious. It is hard to realise that you are no 
 more a boy, and must have the sorrows my sex pro 
 vides for you. I like her, and I would help you if I 
 could, but yon are late. - And she went on shuffling 
 the cards, while I took up a book, being inclined to 
 say no more. 
 
 That evening two letters came by the New York 
 packet. One from my father I put aside. It was 
 dated outside, and was written two weeks later than 
 my mother s, which I read first. I opened it with 
 care. 
 
 U MY OWN DEAR SON : Thy last sweet letter was a 
 great refreshment to me, and the more so because I 
 have not been well, having again my old ache in the 
 side, but not such as need trouble thee. I blush to 
 hear the pretty things thy letters say ; but it is love 
 that holds thy pen, and I must not be too much set 
 up in my own esteem. How much love I give thee 
 in return thou knowest, but to pay in this coin will 
 never beggar us. I love thee because thou art all I 
 can desire, and again because thou lovest me, and 
 again for this same dear reason which is all I can 
 say to excuse my mother-folly. Thy father is well, 
 but weary of this great town ; and we both long to 
 be at home." 
 
 Then there was more about my Aunt Wynne, and 
 some woman-talk for her friends about the new 
 
HUGH WYNNE 183 
 
 fashions, which do not concern her, she being not of 
 this world. " Am I not ? " she says. " I love it all 
 the sea, even the sea, and flowers, and our woods, 
 and, dear me ! also gay gowns. I hope the last I 
 got here will not disturb the Meeting, and my new 
 muff, very big it is, and a green Joseph to ride in. 
 I mean to ride with thee next spring often often." 
 And so on, half mother, half child, with bits of her 
 dear French, and all about a new saddle for me, and 
 silver spurs. The postscript was long. 
 
 " I saw last week a fair Quaker dame come out of 
 Wales. I asked her about the Wynnes. She knew 
 them not, but told me of their great house, and how it 
 was a show-place people went to see, having been done 
 over at great cost j and how a year or two since coal 
 was found on the estate, and much iron, so that these 
 last two years they were rich, and there was some 
 talk of making the present man a baronet. Also 
 that the elder brother is ill, nigh to death. It seems 
 strange after what thy cousin said so often. Thy 
 father is away in Holland. I will tell him when he 
 is come back. Be cautious not to talk of this. I 
 never liked the man." 
 
 I sat back in my chair to read it all over again, first 
 giving my aunt my father s letter. In a few minutes 
 I heard a cry, and saw my aunt, pale and shaken, 
 standing up, the letter in her hand. 
 
 " My God ! " I cried, " what is it ? Is it my 
 mother?" 
 
 " Yes, yes ! " she said. " Be strong, my boy ! She 
 is dead! " 
 
184 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 For a moment I saw the room whirl, and then, as 
 my Aunt Gainor sat down, I fell on my knees and 
 buried my face in her lap. I felt her dear old hands 
 on my head, and at last would have the letter. It 
 was brief. 
 
 "MY SON: The hand of God has faUen heavily 
 upon me. Thy mother died to-day of a pleurisy 
 which none could help. I had not even the conso 
 lation to hear her speak, since, when I came from 
 Holland, she was wandering in talk of thee, and 
 mostly in French, which I know not. I seek to find 
 God s meaning in this chastisement. As yet I find 
 it not. It is well that we should not let bereave 
 ments so overcome us as to make us neglect to be 
 fervent in the business of life, or to cease to praise 
 Him who has seen fit to take away from us that 
 which it may be we worshipped as an idol. What 
 more is to say I leave until I see thee. My affairs 
 are now so ordered that I may leave them. I shall 
 sail in a week for home in the ship in which I came 
 out, and shall not go, as I did mean, to the islands." 
 
 It seemed to me, as I read and re-read it, a cold, 
 hard letter. I said as much to my aunt some days 
 after this ; but she wisely urged that my father was 
 ever a reticent man, who found it difficult to let even 
 his dearest see the better part of him. 
 
 I have no mind to dwell on this sad calamity. I 
 went to and fro, finding neither possibility of repose 
 nor any consolation. I saw as I rode, or lay in my 
 
HUGH WYNNE 185 
 
 boat, that one dear face, its blue-eyed tenderness, its 
 smile of love. I could never thus recall to sight any 
 other of those who, in after-years, have left me j but 
 this one face is here to-day as I write, forever smiling 
 and forever young. 
 
 And so time ran on, and nigh to Christmas day 
 my father came home. The weather was more mild 
 than common, and his ship met no delay from ice. I 
 joined him off Chester Creek. He was grayer, older, 
 I thought, but not otherwise altered, having still his 
 erect stature, and the trick I have myself of throw 
 ing his head up and his shoulders back when about 
 to meet some emergent occasion. I saw no sign of 
 emotion when we met, except that he opened and shut 
 his hands as usual when disturbed. He asked if I 
 were well, and of my Aunt Gainor, and then, amid 
 the tears which were choking me, if I were satisfied 
 as to the business, and if the tea had arrived. I 
 said yes, and that the ship had been sent away with 
 out violence. He said it was a silly business, and 
 the king would soon end it he himself had been too 
 hasty with more to like effect. 
 
 It seemed to me while we talked as though he had just 
 come from my mother s death-bed, whereas a longtime 
 had elapsed, and he had been able to get over the first 
 cruel shock. My own grief was still upon me, and I 
 wondered at his tranquillity. A little later he said : 
 
 " I see thou hast taken to the foolishness of black 
 garments. This is thy aunt s doings." In fact, it was 
 her positive wish. I made no reply, but only looked 
 him in the face, ready to cry like a child. 
 
186 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " Why hast thou no answers, Hugh ? Thy tongue 
 used to be ready enough. Thou hast thy mother s 
 eyes. I would thou hadst them not." 
 
 This was as near as he ever came to speech of 
 her, whom, to my amazement, he never again men 
 tioned. Was it a deeper feeling than I knew, that so 
 silenced him, or did he wish to forget her ? I know 
 not. Some deal thus with their dead. He bade my 
 aunt take away my mother s clothes, and asked no 
 questions as to how she disposed of them j nor for a 
 month did he desire my return home. 
 
 What then passed between him and my Aunt 
 Grainor I do not know ; but he said nothing more of 
 my dress, although I wore mourning for six months. 
 Nor did he say a word as to my exactness and indus 
 try, which was honestly all they should have been. At 
 meals he spoke rarely, and then of affairs, or to 
 blame me for faults not mine, or to speak with cold 
 sarcasm of my friends. 
 
 Except for Jack, and my Aunt Gainor, and Wilson 
 and Wetherill, of whom I saw much, I should have 
 been miserable indeed. Captain Wynne still came 
 and went, and his strange intimacy with my father 
 continued. I thought little of it then, and for my 
 own part I liked to hear of his adventurous life, but 
 the man less and less; and so the winter of 73 and 
 74 went by with fencing and skating and books, 
 which now I myself ordered to suit me, or found in 
 Mr. Logan s great library, of which I was made free. 
 
 In March my cousin left us for Canada and the 
 army. Once I spoke before him of the news in my 
 
HUGH WYNNE 187 
 
 mother s postscript; but he laughed, saying he had 
 heard some such rumours, but that they were not 
 true. They did not much trouble a hungry beggar 
 of a younger son with letters; still if there had 
 been such good news he should have heard it. He 
 wished it might be so j and as to his brother, poor 
 devil ! he would last long enough to marry and have 
 children. Were the ducks still in the river? He 
 said no more to me of Darthea, or of what I was to do 
 for him, but he found a way at need, I am sure, to get 
 letters to her, and that without difficulty. At last, 
 as I have said, he was gone to join Sir Guy. I was 
 not sorry. 
 
 Mrs. Peniston, Darthea s aunt, usually talked lit 
 tle, and then of serious matters as if they were 
 trivial, and of these latter as if they were of the 
 utmost importance. With regard to this matter of 
 Darthea and my cousin, she was free of speech and 
 incessant, so that all the town was soon assured of the 
 great match Darthea would make. The fine house 
 at Wyncote grew, and the estate also. Neither Jack 
 nor I liked all this, and my friend took it sadly to 
 heart, to ray Aunt Gainer s amusement and Mrs. 
 Ferguson s, who would have Dr. Rush set up a ward 
 in the new hospital for the broken-hearted lovers of 
 Darthea, When first Jack Warder was thus badg 
 ered, he fell into such a state of terror as to what the 
 madcap woman would say next that he declined all 
 society for a week, and ever after detested the Tory 
 lady. 
 
 I became, under the influence of thismuch-talked-of 
 
188 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 news, as mute as Jack ; but, while he had only a deep 
 desire toward sadness, and to stay away from her 
 who had thus defeated his love, I, neither given over 
 to despair nor hope, had only a fierce will to have 
 my way ; nor, for some reason or for none, did I con 
 sider Jack s case as very serious, my aunt it much 
 amused, so little do we know those who are most 
 near to us. 
 
 No sooner was the redcoat lover gone awhile 
 than, as Miss Chew declared, Darthea put off mourn 
 ing for the absent. Indeed, the pretty kitten began 
 once more to tangle the threads of Jack s life and 
 mine. For a month Jack was in favour, and then 
 a certain captain, but never I, until one day late in 
 April. She was waiting among my aunt s china for 
 her return, and had set the goggle-eyed mandarin to 
 nodding, while, with eyes as wide as his, she nodded 
 in reply, and laughed like a merry child. 
 
 I stood in the doorway, and watched this delicious 
 creature for a minute while she amused herself and 
 me also, although she knew it not. " Say No ! " she 
 cried out to the great china nobleman 5 quite a foot 
 high he was. But, despite her pretence at altering 
 his unvaried affirmative, it still went on. My lady 
 walked all around him, and presently said aloud : 
 "No ! no ! It must be No ! Say No ! " stamping a 
 foot, as if angry, and then of a sudden running up 
 to the mandarin and laughing. " He has a crack in 
 his head. That is why he says Yes ! Yes ! I must be 
 a female mandarin, and that is why I say No ! No ! I 
 wonder does he talk broken China ? " 
 
HUGH WYNNE 189 
 
 At this moment she saw my tall black figure in a 
 corner mirror, and made some exclamation, as if 
 startled ; an instant later she knew it was I, but 
 as if by magic the laughing woman was no longer 
 there. What I saw as she came toward me was a 
 slight, quiet nun with eyes full of tears. 
 
 I was used to her swift changes of mood, but what 
 her words, or some of them, meant I knew not j and 
 as for this pitying face, with its sudden sadness, 
 what more did it mean ? Major Andre said of her 
 later that Mistress Darthea was like a lake in the 
 hills, reflecting all things, and yet herself after all. 
 But how many such tricksy ways, pretty or vexing, 
 she was to show some of us in the years to come did 
 not yet appear. 
 
 In a moment I seemed to see before me the small 
 dark child I first knew at school. Why was she now 
 so curiously perturbed ? " Mr. Wynne/ 7 she said, 
 " you never come near me now oh, not for a month ! 
 And to-day your aunt has shown me a part of the 
 dear mother s letter, and and I am so sorry for 
 you ! I am indeed ! I have long wanted to say so. 
 I wish I could help you. I do not think you forget 
 easily, and and you were so good to me when I 
 was an ugly little brat. I think your mother loved 
 me. That is a thing to make one think better of 
 one s self. I need it, sir. It is a pretty sort of 
 vanity, and how vain you must be, who had so much 
 of her love ! n 
 
 " I thank thee," I said simply. Indeed, for a time 
 I was so moved that say more I could not. " I thank 
 
190 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 thee, Miss Peniston. There is no one on earth whom 
 I would rather hear say what thou hast said." 
 
 I saw her colour a little, and she replied quickly, " I 
 am only a child, and I say what comes to my lips j I 
 might better it often if I stayed to think." 
 
 " No ! " I cried. Whenever she got into trouble 
 and she was ready to note the tenderness in my 
 voice this pretty pretext of the irresponsibility of 
 childhood would serve her turn. " No," said I ; " I 
 like dearly to hear my mother praised, who could 
 praise her too much? but when it is thou who 
 sayest of her such true things, how shall I tell thee 
 what it is to me who love to hear thee talk even 
 nonsense ? " 
 
 " I talk nonsense ? Do If" 
 
 "Yes, sometimes. I want thee to listen to me. 
 I have cared for thee 
 
 " Now please don t, Mr. Wynne. They all do it, 
 and I like you. I want to keep some friends." 
 
 " It is useless, Darthea. I am so made that I must 
 say my say. Thou mayest try to escape, and hate it 
 and me, but I have to say I love thee. No, I am not 
 a boy. I am a man, and I won t let thee answer me 
 now." 
 
 " I do not want to. It would hurt you. You must 
 know ; every one knows. It was his fault and my 
 aunt s, all this gossip. I would have kept it quiet." 
 
 " It will never be," I broke out. " Thou wilt never 
 marry that man ! " I knew when I said this that 
 I had made a mistake. I had learned to distrust 
 Arthur ; but I had too little that was of moment to 
 
HUGH WYNNE 191 
 
 say against him to make it wise to speak as I had 
 done. I was young in those days, and hasty. 
 
 " Who ? " says my lady, all on fire. " What man ? 
 Jack Warder ? And why not ? I do not know what 
 I shall do." 
 
 " It is not my dear Jack," I cried. " Why dost thou 
 trifle with me ? " 
 
 " Your dear Jack, indeed ! How he blushes ! I 
 might ask him. He never would have the courage. 7 
 
 "It is my cousin, Arthur Wynne, as thou well 
 knowest. And thou art wicked to mock at an honest 
 gentleman with thy light talk. Thou dost not know 
 the man, this man, my cousin." 
 
 " Only a boy would be so foolish or so unfair as to 
 speak thus of one behind his back, and to a woman 
 too, who" And she paused, confused and angry. 
 
 I could not tell her what was only suspicion or 
 hearsay as to my cousin s double statements concern 
 ing his father s estate, or how either she or we were 
 deceived. I had, in fact, lost my head a little, and 
 had gone further than was wise. I would not explain , 
 and I was too vexed to say more than that I would 
 say the same to his face. Then she rejoined softly : 
 
 Tell it to me. You are as mysterious as Miss 
 Wynne ; and have I not a right to know ? n 
 
 " No," I said ; " not now, at least. Thou mayest 
 tell him if thou wilt." 
 
 " If I will, indeed ! Every one is against him you 
 and Mistress Wynne and that impudent boy, Jack 
 Warder, despite his blushes. Oh, he can be bold 
 enoiigh. Isn t he a dear fellow?" 
 
192 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 How could one deal with a woman like this? I 
 hesitated, and as I did so, not having ready anything 
 but sad reproaches of her levity, my aunt appeared 
 in the doorway. 
 
 " Are you two children quarrelling ? " she said, in 
 her outspoken way. "You will have time to repent. 
 Here has been your father, sir, to-day, and his affairs 
 in Jamaica are all in a nice pickle, and you and the 
 old clerk are to up and away in the packet for Kings 
 ton, and that to-morrow." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I cried. I was not sorry. 
 
 " I envy you," said my lady, as demure as you 
 please. " You will fetch me a feather fan, and come 
 back soon. I hate all those cornets and captains, and 
 now I shall have no one but Jack." 
 
 My aunt looked on amused. Her news was true 
 indeed, and with no chance to talk to any one, except 
 to say a mere good-by to Jack, I spent the evening 
 with my father and our head clerk over the business 
 which took me away so hastily. At early morning 
 on a cold day at the close of April, 1774, we were 
 gliding down the Delaware with all sail set. 
 
 The voyage was long, the winds contrary. I had 
 ample leisure to reflect upon my talk with Darthea. 
 I was sure she must have known she was to me not 
 as other women. Except for the accident of this 
 chance encounter, I might long have waited before 
 finding courage to speak. I had made nothing by it, 
 had scarce had an answer, and should, like enough, 
 have fallen back into the coldness of relation, by 
 which she had so long kept me at a distance. J had 
 
HUGH WYNNE 193 
 
 been foolish and hasty to speak of my cousin at all j 
 it did but vex her. 
 
 Of my errand in Jamaica there is little to be said. 
 My father s letters were of business only. Of these 
 long months and of what went on at home I heard 
 but little from him, and with my request to have the 
 gazettes he had evidently no mind to comply; nor 
 were the chances of letters frequent. I heard, indeed, 
 from my aunt but twice, and from Jack thrice ; but 
 he said nothing of Darthea. Years after I found in 
 his record of events : 
 
 " Hugh left us the last of April. It may be he 
 cares too much for that wayward witch, Darthea." 
 
 I should say that it was at this time or soon after 
 my dear friend began to keep a somewhat broken 
 diary of events. What he says of former years was 
 put on paper long afterward. 
 
 " If I did but know/ writes Jack, " that he is se 
 riously taken, I should understand, alas ! what not 
 to do. But as to some things Hugh is a silent man. 
 I think, as Mr. Wilson says, some men are made for 
 friends, and some for lovers. I fear the latter is not 
 my role. Is there can there be such a thing as 
 revering a woman too much to make successful love f 
 I think I see what Darthea is more truly than does 
 my dear Hugh. There must come a day when she 
 will show it. Sometimes I can hardly trust myself 
 with her ; and I yearn to tell her that I alone know 
 her, and that I love her. I must watch mj^self . If 
 it really be that Hugh cares for her, and yet I were 
 to be the fortunate man, how could I face him again, 
 
 13 
 
194 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 having had the advantage of his long absence ? It 
 seems strange that I should ask myself if I am more 
 her lover than his friend. He does not talk of her 
 to me. 
 
 "It is now September, 74, and Hugh must soon 
 return. Mr. Gage is fortifying Boston Neck, and 
 we have had the mischievous Boston Port Bill, 
 and Virginia up in a rage, which I do not under 
 stand. We, who have our commerce crippled by 
 foolish laws, may well be on the side of resistance ; 
 but why the planters should put in peril their only 
 tobacco market I see less well. A Continental Con 
 gress is to meet here on the fifth day of this month, 
 and already the town is alive with gentlemen from 
 the South and North. 
 
 "No doubt Darthea has letters from Mr. Arthur 
 Wynne. I think Mr. Wilson judges that man cor 
 rectly. He says he is selfish, and more weak as to 
 morals than really bad, and that he will be apt to 
 yield to sudden temptation rather than to plan de 
 liberate wickedness. Why should he have need 
 to plan at all? Mistress Wynne says he does not 
 like Hugh. How could any not like my Hugh, and 
 how do women see the things which we do not ? 
 
 " It is sad to see my father s state of mind. Yes 
 terday he was with me to visit Mr. Hancock, very 
 fine in a purple velvet coat with gold buttons, and 
 a flowered waistcoat. He is our correspondent in 
 Boston. My father came home a hot Whig j and to 
 morrow is Meeting-day, and he will be most melan 
 choly, and all for the king if this and that should 
 
HUGH WYNNE 195 
 
 happen. John Wynne can turn him which way he 
 likes. If my Hugh remains of a Whig mind and 
 who less like to change ? he will have a hot time 
 with his father, I fear." 
 
 Is it any wonder I, his friend, loved this man? 
 He seemed so gentle that all but I, even James 
 Wilson, misunderstood him. No more obstinate fel 
 low ever was or will be. I ought to say " determined," 
 for there was always a reason of head or heart for 
 what he would or would not do, and I really think 
 that in all his noble life he had but one hour of 
 weakness, of which by and by I may have to tell. 
 
XIII 
 
 WAS to have come home earlier, but in 
 June I got letters from my father in 
 structing me to await a vessel which 
 would reach Jamaica in June, and sail 
 thence to Madeira. There were careful 
 instructions given as to purchase of wines, and the 
 collection of delayed payments for staves, in the 
 wine islands. 
 
 I did not like it, but I was young, and to travel 
 had its charm after all. Had there been no Darthea, 
 I had been altogether pleased. The excuse of this 
 new business made me smile. It was clear my father 
 was using that pretext to keep me out of the mischief 
 which was involving most young men of courage, and 
 creating in them a desire to train as soldiers in the 
 organisations which were everywhere being formed. 
 He was unwise enough to say that my cousin, from 
 whom he had heard, sent his love, and was glad I 
 was out of our disloyal and uneasy country. 
 
 There was no help for it, and thus it chanced that 
 not until September did I see the red brick houses of 
 my native city. Late news I had almost none, for 
 none reached me, and I was become wild with desire 
 to learn what the summer months had brought forth. 
 196 
 
HUGH WYNNE 197 
 
 On the fifth day of September, 1774, at seven in 
 the morning, I saw my Jack in a boat come out to 
 meet me as we came to anchor in the stream. He 
 looked brown and handsome, reddening with joy as 
 he made me welcome. All were well, he said. I did 
 not ask for Darthea. 
 
 My father was on the slip, and told me that business 
 might wait until the evening. My aunt had not been 
 well, and would see me at once. This really was all, 
 and I might have been any one but his son for what 
 there was in his mode of meeting me. I walked with 
 Jack to my Aunt Gainor s, where he left me. I was 
 pleased to see the dear lady at her breakfast, in a white 
 gown with frills and a lace tucker, with a queen s 
 nightcap such as Lady Washington wore when I first 
 saw her. Mistress Wynne looked a great figure in 
 white, and fell on my neck and kissed me ; and I must 
 sit down, and here were coffee and hot girdle-cakes 
 and blueberries, and what not. Did I like Jamaica ? 
 And had I fetched some fans ? She must have her 
 choice j and rum, she hoped, I had not forgot. How 
 well I looked, and my eyes were bluer than ever ! 
 Was it the sea had got into them? and so on. 
 
 I asked about the Congress, and she was off in a 
 moment. Mr. John Adams had been to see her, and 
 that cat, Bessy Ferguson, had been rude to him. An 
 ill-dressed man, but clear of head and very positive ; 
 and the members from Virginia she liked better. 
 Mr. Peyton Randolph had called ; and I would like 
 Mr. Pendleton; he had most delightful manners. 
 Mr. Livingston had been good enough to remember 
 
198 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 me, and had asked for me. He thought we must 
 soon choose a general, and Mr. Washington had been 
 talked of. 
 
 "Has it come to that?" said I. 
 
 "Yes; all the North is up, and Gage has more 
 troops and is at work intrenching himself, he who was 
 to settle us with three regiments. Mrs. Chew was 
 here, and behaved like the lady she is. But they are 
 all in a nice mess, Master Hugh, and know not what 
 to do. I hate these moderates. Mr. Washington is 
 a man as big as your father, and better builded. I 
 like him, although he says little and did not so much 
 as smile at Bessy Ferguson s nonsense. And Dar- 
 thea you do not ask about Darthea. She is play 
 ing the mischief with Jack and her captain. She 
 will not let me talk about him. He is in Boston with 
 Mr. Gage, I hear. Why don t you tell me about 
 yourself ? " 
 
 "How could I, Aunt Gainor? Thou" and I 
 laughed. 
 
 Then she became grave. " You will have to declare 
 yourself and take sides ; and how can I counsel you 
 to resist your father ? You must think it over and 
 talk to Mr. Wilson. He is of the Congress. Poor 
 Mr. Wetherill the Meeting has a mind to bounce, 
 and he takes it hard. Come back at eleven, and 
 we will go to Chestnut street, where they meet, 
 and see the gentlemen go into the Carpenters Hall. 
 I came to town on purpose. And now go; I must 
 dress." 
 
 At half -past ten my aunt very splendid we drove 
 
HUGH WYNNE 199 
 
 down Second street and np Chestnut, where was a 
 great crowd come to look on. Dr. Rush, seeing my 
 aunt s chariot, got in at Second street, and, being one 
 of the members, enabled us to get near to Carpenters 
 Alley, where at the far end, back from the street, is 
 the old building in which the Congress was to be held. 
 Jack met us here, and got up beside the coachman. 
 I think none had a better view than we. Andrew 
 Allen came to speak to us, and then Mr. Galloway, 
 not yet scared by the extreme measures of which few 
 as yet dreamed, and which by and by drove these and 
 many other gentlemen into open declarations for the 
 crown. 
 
 I saw James Pemberton looking on sadly, and 
 near him other Friends with sour aspects. Here and 
 there militia uniforms were seen amid the dull grays, 
 the smocks of farmers and mechanics, and the sober 
 suits of tradesmen, all come to see. 
 
 " The Rev. Dr. Duche passed us," says Jack, whom 
 now I quote, "in a fine wig and black silk small 
 clothes. He was to make this day the famous prayer 
 which so moved Mr. Adams." And later, I may 
 add, he went over to the other side. " Soon others 
 came. Some we knew not, but the great Dr. Rush 
 pointed out such as were of his acquaintance. 
 
 it i There/ he said, l is Carter Braxton. He tells 
 me he does not like the New England men either 
 their religion or their manners; and I like them 
 both. The doctor was cynical, I thought, but very 
 interesting. I set down but little of what he said 
 or I saw j for most of it I forget. 
 
200 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " There is the great Virginia orator, Mr. Patrick 
 Henry/ said the doctor. He was in simple dress, 
 and looked up at us curiously as he went by with 
 Pendleton and Mr. Carroll. He has a great estate 
 Mr. Carroll/ said the doctor. I wonder he will 
 risk it. He was dressed in brown silk breeches, with 
 a yellow figured waistcoat, and, like many of them, 
 wore his sword. Mr. Franklin was not yet come 
 home, and some were late. 
 
 " Presently the doctor called, and a man in the 
 military dress of the Virginia militia turned toward 
 us. Colonel Washington, said our doctor, will 
 permit me to present him to a lady, a great friend 
 of liberty. Mistress "Wynne, Colonel Washington. 
 
 " 1 1 have already had the honour/ he said, taking 
 off his hat a scrolled beaver. 
 
 " < He is our best soldier, and we are fortunate that 
 he is with us/ said the doctor, as the colonel moved 
 away." 
 
 The doctor changed his mind later, and helped, I 
 fear, to make the trouble which came near to cost 
 ing Conway his life. I have always been a great 
 admirer of fine men, and as the Virginia colonel 
 moved like Saul above the crowd, an erect, well-pro 
 portioned figure, he looked taller than he really was. 
 Nor was he, as my aunt had said, nearly of the big 
 ness of my father. 
 
 " He has a good nose," said my Aunt Gainor, per 
 haps conscious of her own possessions in the way 
 of a nasal organ, and liking to see it as notable in 
 another j " but how sedate he is ! I find Mr. Peyton 
 
HUGH WYNNE 201 
 
 Randolph more agreeable, and there is Mr. Robert 
 Morris and John Dickinson." 
 
 Then the lean form of Mr. Jefferson went by, 
 a little bent, deep in talk with Roger Sherman, 
 whom I thought shabbily dressed ; and behind them 
 Robert Livingston, whom my aunt knew. Thus it 
 was, as I am glad to remember, that I beheld these 
 men who were to be the makers of an empire. 
 Perhaps no wiser group of people ever met for a 
 greater fate, and surely the hand of God was seen 
 in the matter ; for what other colony Canada, for 
 example had such men to show ? There, meanwhile, 
 was England, with its great nobles and free commons 
 and a splendid story of hard-won freedom, driving 
 madly on its way of folly and defeat. 
 
 Of what went on within the hall we heard little. 
 A declaration of rights was set forth, committees of 
 correspondence appointed, and addresses issued to the 
 king and people of Great Britain. Congress broke 
 up, and the winter went by; Gage was superseded 
 by Sir William Howe ; Clinton and Burgoyne were 
 sent out, and ten thousand men were ordered to 
 America to aid the purposes of the king. 
 
 The cold season was soon upon us, and the event 
 ful year of 75 came in with a great fall of snow, but 
 with no great change for me and those I loved. A 
 sullen rage possessed the colonies, and especially Mas 
 sachusetts, where the Regulation Acts were quietly 
 disregarded. No counsellors or jurymen would serve 
 under the king s commission. The old muskets of 
 the French and Indian wars were taken from the 
 
202 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 corners and put in order. Men drilled, and women 
 cast bullets. 
 
 Failing to corrupt Samuel Adams and Hancock, 
 Gage resolved to arrest them at Concord and to seize 
 on the stores of powder and ball. " The heads of trai 
 tors will soon decorate Temple Bar," said a London 
 gazette; and so the march of events went on. In 
 the early spring Dr. Franklin came home in despair 
 of accommodation ; he saw nothing now to do but to 
 fight, and this he told us plainly. His very words 
 were in my mind on the night of April 23d of this 
 year of 75, as I was slowly and thoughtfully walk 
 ing over the bridge where Walnut crossed the Dock 
 Creek, and where I stayed for a moment to strike flint 
 and steel in order to light my pipe. Of a sudden I 
 heard a dull but increasing noise to north, and then 
 the strong voice of the bell in the state-house. It was 
 not ringing for fire. Somewhat puzzled, I walked 
 swiftly to Second street, where were men and wo 
 men in groups. I stopped a man and asked what 
 had chanced. He said, "A battle! a battle! and. 
 General Gage killed." Couriers had reached the 
 coffee-houses, but no one on the street seemed to 
 have more than this vague information; all were 
 going toward Chestnut street, where a meeting was 
 to be held, as I learned, and perhaps fuller news 
 given out. 
 
 I pushed on, still hearing the brazen clamour of the 
 bell. As I crossed High street I came upon James 
 Wilson and Mr. Graydon. They stopped me to tell 
 of the great tidings just come by swift post-riders 
 
HUGH WYNNE 203 
 
 of the fight at Lexington. After giving me the full 
 details, Wilson left us. Said Graydon, very serious : 
 " Mr. Wynne, how long are you to be in deciding ? 
 Come and join Mr. Cadwalader s troop. Few of us 
 ride as well as you." 
 
 I said I had been thinking. 
 
 " Oh, confound your thinkings ! It is action now. 
 Let the bigwigs think." 
 
 I could not tell a man I then knew but slightly 
 how immense was my reluctance to make this com 
 plete break with the creed of my father, and to abso 
 lutely disobey him, as I knew I must do if I followed 
 my inclinations ; nor did I incline to speak of such 
 . other difficulties as still kept me undecided. I said 
 at last that if I took up arms it would be with Mac- 
 pherson or Cowperthwaite s Quakers. 
 
 " Why not ? " he said. " But, by George ! man, do 
 something ! There are, I hear, many Friends among 
 the Cowperthwaite Blues. Do they give orders with 
 1 thou and thee/ I wonder ? " 
 
 I laughed, and hurried away. The town was al 
 ready in a state of vast excitement, women in tears, 
 and men stopping even those they did not know to ask 
 for news. I ran all the way to my aunt s, eager to 
 tell it. In the hall I stood a minute to get my breath, 
 and reflect. I knew full well, as I recognised vari 
 ous voices, that my intelligence would mean tears 
 for some, and joy for others. 
 
 My long-taught Quaker self-control often served 
 me as well as the practised calm I observed to be the 
 expression assumed by the best-bred officers of the 
 
204 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 army on occasions that caused visible emotion in 
 others. I went in quietly, seeing a well-amused party 
 of dames and younger folk, with, over against the 
 chimneypiece, the great Benjamin Franklin, now in 
 the full prime of varied usefulness, a benevolent face, 
 and above it the great dome of head, which had to me 
 even then a certain grandeur. He was talking eagerly 
 with Mistress Wynne two striking figures. 
 
 Mr. Galloway was in chat with his kinsman, Mr. 
 Chew. The younger women, in a group, were mak 
 ing themselves merry with my friend Jack, who was 
 a bit awkward in a fine suit I had plagued him into 
 buying. And what a beauty he was, as he stood, 
 half pleased with the teasing, blushing now and then, 
 and fencing prettily in talk, as I knew by the laugh 
 ter ! At the tables the elder women were gambling, 
 and intent on their little gains and losses, while the 
 vast play of a nobler game was going on in the 
 greater world of men. 
 
 To my surprise, I saw among the guests an Eng 
 lish lieutenant. I say " to my surprise," for the other 
 officers had gone of their own accord, or had been 
 ordered to leave by the Committee of Safety. This 
 one, and another, were, as I learned afterward, on 
 their way through the town to join General Gage. 
 There was evidently some dispute as to the cards. 
 I heard high-pitched voices, and " spadille," " basto," 
 "matador" all the queer words of quadrille, their 
 favoured game. 
 
 The lieutenant was bending over Mrs. Ferguson s 
 chair. He was a fellow I had seen before and never 
 
HUGH WYNNE 205 
 
 liked, a vulgar-featured man, too fat for his years, 
 which may have been some twenty-eight. He played 
 the best hand of all of them, and, as my aunt de 
 clared, that was quite enough ; for the rest she could 
 keep any man in order. I held back in the gloom 
 of the hall, looking at their busy gaiety, and wonder 
 ing what they would say to my news. 
 
 As I went in I heard Woodville, the lieutenant, say, 
 " The king play the king, Mrs. Ferguson." 
 
 " No advice ! " cried Mrs. Galloway. 
 
 " But I am betting," said he. " The king forever ! 
 We have won, madam. The king is always in luck." 
 
 I could not resist saying, " The king has lost, ladies." 
 
 My aunt turned, and knew I meant something. I 
 suppose my face may have been more grave than my 
 words. " What is it, Hugh 1 " 
 
 " I have strange news, Aunt Gainor." 
 
 " News ? and what ? " As she spoke the talk ceased, 
 and every one looked up. 
 
 " There has been a fight at Lexington. Major Pit- 
 cairn is beat, and my Lord Percy. The farmers were 
 all up to hinder them as they were on their way to 
 seize our powder, and to take Mr. Hancock. The 
 king has lost some three hundred men, and we under 
 a hundred." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said Mr. Galloway. " But it 
 cannot be true." 
 
 A pause came after, as I said there was no doubt 
 of it. 
 
 Dr. Franklin asked if I was sure. I said, " Yes ; 
 I have it of James Wilson, and the town is already 
 
206 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 in an uproar over it." The great philosopher re 
 mained deep in thought a moment, while the women 
 sat or stood in fear, or whispering excitement. At 
 last he said he must go, and that it was the beginning 
 of war, and welcome too. Then he bowed gravely 
 and went out. As he left, the stillness which had 
 prevailed for a time was broken. 
 
 A dozen questions fell on me from all sides. I 
 could only repeat my story, as Jack went by me to 
 go out and hear, if possible, more of the news than I 
 had to tell. 
 
 At last Mr. Chew said thoughtfully, " If it be true, 
 it is a sad business ; but, really, how can it be, Hugh ? 
 How could a lot of farmers, without good arms and 
 discipline, put to rout a body of trained men, well 
 armed ? " 
 
 " I think," said Galloway, " we shall have quite 
 another version to-morrow. How does it strike you, 
 Mr. Woodville?" 
 
 " Oh, quite absurd," said the officer. " You may 
 reassure yourselves, ladies j such a loss, too, would be 
 incredible, even in regular war. I think we may go 
 on with our game, Mrs. Ferguson." He was very 
 pompous, but none seemed inclined to take his advice. 
 
 " And yet I don t like it," said a lady of the Tory 
 side. 
 
 " And I do," said Mistress Wynne. " It is as good 
 news as I have heard this many a day." 
 
 " It is nonsense ! " said the officer ; " sheer non 
 sense ! You have strange notions, madam, as to 
 what is good news. It is only another rebel lie." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 207 
 
 " I think not/ said I, venturing to add that men 
 who could kill squirrels would rarely miss a man, 
 and that many of the older farmers had fought In 
 dians and French, and had, I suspected, picked off 
 the officers. 
 
 " How horrid ! " said Darthea. 
 
 Had a stray bullet found my cousin I should not 
 have grieved profoundly. 
 
 "You see where all your neutrality and loyalty 
 have brought you/ said Mistress Wynne. " I wish 
 King George were with Mr. Gage ; he might learn 
 wisdom. T is but the beginning of a good end." 
 
 " May I remind you/ 7 said Woodville, very red in 
 the face, "that I am his Majesty s officer?" 
 
 " No, you may not remind me. A fig for his Maj 
 esty ! " cried my aunt, now in one of her tantrums. 
 
 " Shame ! " cried Mrs. Ferguson, rising, as did the 
 rest, some in tears and some saying Mrs. Ferguson 
 was right, or the Lord knows what not at all a 
 pleasant scene; the men very silent, or vexed, or 
 troubled. 
 
 My Aunt Gainor, as they filed out, made them 
 each her finest curtsey. Darthea stood still, looking 
 grave enough. Mr. Woodville, the lieutenant, lin 
 gered, made his adieus very decently, and went out, 
 I showing him the way. On the step he said : " I 
 do not quarrel with women ; but I have heard that 
 in Mistress Wynne s house, to which, as an officer 
 of his Majesty, I cannot submit." 
 
 "Well!" I said; and my abominable propensity 
 to grin got the better of me. 
 
208 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " You seem amused, sir," he said. 
 
 I was by no means amused. 
 
 " I suppose you are responsible/ 7 lie added. " Miss 
 Wynne might have better manners, and her nephew 
 more courage. However, I have said what ought tjp 
 be enough with English gentlemen. Good-evening." 
 
 " I have half a mind to give thee a good honest 
 thrashing/ 7 said I. 
 
 " I dare say. You are big enough, Master Quaker 
 but I presume that about the weapons common among 
 men of honour you know as much as I know of 
 making horseshoes." 
 
 I was now cool enough and angry enough to have 
 killed him. " Thy friend can find me here/ 7 said I. 
 " I trust I shall be able to satisfy thee. 77 
 
 With this he went away, and I stood looking after 
 his stumpy figure. I was again in a broil, not of my 
 making ; just a bit of ill luck, for here was a nice 
 business. I went in, and was caught on my way 
 upstairs by my Aunt Gainor, who called me into 
 the sitting-room. 
 
 Still too furious to be prudent, she broke out be 
 fore Darthea. " Insolent idiots ! I hope I made Mr. 
 Galloway understand, and the rest of them too ! I 
 trust Bessy Ferguson will never darken my doors 
 again ! 77 She walked up and down, and at last up 
 set the big mandarin, who came head down on the 
 hearth. 
 
 " I wish he were Mr. Gage ! 77 said my aunt, con 
 templating the fragments. 
 
 "I dare say he was a Tory/ 7 says Darthea, who 
 
HUGH WYNNE 209 
 
 feared no one. " And I am a Tory too, Miss Wynne, 
 I would have you to know." 
 
 " I dare say/ said my aunt j " it does n t matter 
 much what you think, or what you are. You had 
 some words with that stupid man, sir ; I saw you. He 
 looked as if he did not like it. Oh, I heard you, too." 
 
 I vainly shook my head at her. 
 
 " Are you two going to fight ? I am not sorry ! 
 I wish I could have that cat Ferguson out." 
 
 " I hope oh I am sure, Mr. Wynne, it cannot be. 
 How dreadful ! n said Darthea. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " cried my aunt. " A man cannot 
 stand everything like a woman." 
 
 I said plainly, seeing how vain my aunt had made 
 concealment, that there had been some words, but 
 that I trusted no harm would come of it. 
 
 " But there will ! there will ! " said Miss Peniston. 
 
 " Mercy upon us ! " cried my aunt ; for here was 
 Darthea on the floor, and burnt feathers and vinegar 
 at hand, servants running about, my aunt ordering 
 " Cut her stay-strings ! " as I was turned out, hearing 
 my aunt declare, " I do believe she is in love with all 
 the men. Is it you or the captain ? What a shame 
 less monkey to tumble all of a heap that way ! It is 
 hardly decent. Do go away, you goose ! T is a way 
 she has Did never you see a woman faint ? " 
 
 I never did, and I was scared faint myself. What 
 between Darthea s fainting spell, and this quarrel not 
 of my seeking, I was uncomfortable enough. I had 
 no one but Jack to appeal to ; and here was a pair 
 of Quaker lads, just over twenty-two, in a proper 
 
 14 
 
210 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 scrape. I had not the least intention of getting out 
 of it, save in one way. The sneer at my aunt was 
 more than I could endure. What my father would 
 think was another matter. 
 
 Mr. Wilson used to say : " When you are in difficul 
 ties dispose of the worst first ;" and so I resolved, as I 
 must fight the man, and that was the imminent matter, 
 to set aside all thought of my parent, until I was done 
 with Mr. Woodville. Jack I took for granted, and 
 so left a note with the servant asking my opponent s 
 friend to call on Jack at an hour when he was like 
 to be alone. Before I could leave to warn him of 
 what was on hand my aunt came to me. 
 
 " I sent that girl home in the chaise. It was her 
 fear lest some one may be hurt, but she really has 
 no excuse. She talked quite wild as she came to 
 I mean of you and Arthur Wynne just mere babble. 
 And, O Hugh ! I am a drivelling old maid, and have 
 taught you all manner of nonsense, and now I have 
 got you into trouble. Don t let him kill you, Hugh. 
 Cannot it be stopped? I told Darthea to hold her 
 tongue, and I am so miserable, Hugh ; and when I 
 think of your dead mother, and all I promised, what 
 shall I do ? " And the kind old lady penitently wept 
 over me, as if I were run through already. 
 
 I felt, as you may imagine, the embarrassment and 
 doubt a young man feels when about to protest by 
 a single act against the creed of conduct which he 
 has been taught to follow since he could remember. 
 I smiled, too, as I recalled our first school duel, and 
 how Jack and I ran away. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 211 
 
 My aunt, seeing there was nothing more to be 
 done, and having said quite enough, retired, I am 
 sure to pray for me, and for herself as the main cause 
 of my coming risk. She would have liked to see me 
 well out of the affair, but I do believe would not have 
 had me excuse myself to my lieutenant, let what 
 might occur. Indeed, she did her best to keep Miss 
 Darthea from betraying what, but for my aunt s rash 
 outburst, would not have gone beyond those imme 
 diately concerned. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon, when I found Jack 
 writing in his father s house. I must have looked 
 grave, for he rose quickly and, coming to meet me, 
 set a hand on each of my shoulders a way he had, 
 but only with me. 
 
 " What is it ? " he said ; " not the news ? " 
 
 " No." In fact, it had clean gone out of my mind. 
 " I have had trouble with Mr. Woodville, and now 
 I must fight him." And on this I related the whole 
 adventure, Jack listening intently. 
 
 " Thou shouldst have an older man than I, Hugh. 
 These affairs may often be mended, I learn, without 
 coming to violence." He seemed a little embarrassed, 
 and reddened, hesitating as he spoke, so that, stupidly 
 not comprehending him as I should have done, I said 
 hastily that the man had insulted my aunt, and that 
 there was but one way out of it, but that I could 
 try to get some one else, if to act as my friend was 
 not to his taste. 
 
 "At this time," he writes, "when Hugh came so 
 near to hurting me, I was really going through in 
 
212 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 my mind what he had already disposed of in his. At 
 Pike s we heard of nothing but duels. I had long 
 been Pike s pupil. The duel had come to seem to us, 
 I fear, the natural and inevitable ending of a quar 
 rel. Such was the belief of my good friend Mistress 
 Wynne s set, and of the officers whose opinions as to 
 social matters we had learned to regard as final. 
 
 "And yet the absurdity of two Quaker lads so 
 trapped struck me as it did not Hugh. The man 
 must surely have thought him older than he was, but 
 so did most. I feared that I should not do my friend 
 j ustice j and then I thought of dear Mistress Gainor, 
 whom I now loved, and for whom to lose Hugh 
 would be as death in life j and so, quickly turning it 
 over for one mad moment, I wondered if I could 
 not someway get this quarrel on to my own shoul 
 ders. When I answered Hugh I must have made him 
 misunderstand me, or so I think from what he said. 
 When he exclaimed he could get some one else, I 
 made haste to put myself right. We had little time, 
 however, to discuss the matter, for at this moment 
 came a Captain Le Clere with Hugh s note. 
 
 "Hugh was now in one of his quiet, smiling 
 moods, when from his face you would have said 
 there was some jest or wager in question, and from 
 his talk, which had a kind of intensity of distinct 
 articulation, that it was, as I thought it, most serious. 
 He was coldly civil to Mr. Le Clere, and to me apart 
 said, l Small swords, and the governor s woods by 
 the spring/ as if he were arranging a quite familiar 
 and every-day affair. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 213 
 
 " I frankly declared that I was new to an office of 
 this kind, and must trust to Mr. Le Clere s honour 
 and courtesy. He seemed pleased at this, and thought 
 a pity of so young a man to have such a difficulty, 
 expressing his hopes of accommodation, which I 
 knew Hugh too well to think possible. 
 
 " As soon as we had arranged the needed prelimi 
 naries, and Mr. Le Clere had gone, I went to borrow 
 small swords of Pike, arranging to come for them 
 after dark. Duels were common enough even in our 
 Quaker town, especially among gentlemen of his 
 Majesty s service. Although illegal, so strongly was 
 it felt that for certain offences there was no other 
 remedy possible, that it was difficult to escape the 
 resort to weapons if those involved were of what we 
 who are of it like to call the better class. 
 
 "At daybreak Hugh and I were waiting in the 
 woods where near to what Mr. Penn meant as a 
 public square, a little east of Schuylkill-Eighth 
 street was an open space, once a clearing, but now 
 disused, and much overgrown. We were first on the 
 ground, and I took occasion to tell Hugh of Pike s 
 counsels for he had at once guessed what we were 
 about to watch his opponent s eyes, and the like. 
 Hugh, who was merry, and had put aside such 
 thoughts of the future as were troubling me, de 
 clared that it was the mouth a man should watch, 
 which I think is the better opinion. I said, of course, 
 nothing of what Pike told me as to Mr. Woodville 
 being a first-rate player, and only advised my friend 
 to be cautious. 
 
214 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "Mr. Woodville, who came with Le Clere and 
 a surgeon, was a short lump of a man, and an 
 odd contrast to his friend, who was long and lank. 
 The pair of them looked like Don Quixote and his 
 squire. The short man I felt quite confident Hugh 
 could handle, and was surprised, seeing his build, 
 that Pike should have declared him a good blade. 
 Mr. Le Clere was very civil, and I followed his di 
 rections, knowing, as I have said, but little of such 
 affairs. 
 
 " Our men being stripped to the shirt, and ready, 
 Mr. Le Clere and I drew away some twenty feet. 
 Then, to my surprise, the lean officer said to me, 
 1 Mr. Warder, shall I have the honour to amuse you 
 with a turn ? Here are our own swords of a length, 
 as you see. 
 
 " I was anything rather than amused. I had heard 
 of this foolish English custom of the friends also en 
 gaging. I knew that it was usual to make the offer, 
 and that it was not needful to accept j but now, as I 
 saw my Hugh standing ready with his sword upon 
 the ground, I began to shake all over, and to colour. 
 Such hath always been my habit when in danger, 
 even from my boyhood. It is not because I am 
 afraid. Yet, as it seems to another like fear, to feel 
 it sets me in a cold rage, and has many times, as on 
 this occasion, led me into extremes of rashness. 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Le Clere saw my condition, and 
 unhappily let loose on his face a faint smile. At 
 your service/ I said, and cast off my coat. 
 
 " It is not necessary, sir/ he replied, a bit ashamed 
 
HUGH WYNNE 215 
 
 to engage a fellow like me, who shook and blushed, 
 and looked to be about seventeen. 
 
 " We are losing time/ said I, in a fury, not over- 
 sorry to be thus or in any way distracted from Hugh s 
 peril. In truth, I need have had small fear for him. 
 For two years Hugh and I had fenced almost daily, 
 and what with Pike and Arthur Wynne, knew most 
 of the tricks of the small sword. 
 
 "The next moment Le Clere cried, On guard, 
 gentlemen ! and I heard the click of the blades 
 as they met. I had my hands full, and was soon 
 aware of Le Clere s skill. I was, however, as agile 
 as a cat, and he less clever with his legs than his 
 arm. Nor do I think he desired to make the affair 
 serious. In a few minutes it seemed longer I 
 heard an oath, and, alarmed for Hugh, cast a glance 
 in his direction. I saw his foe fall back, his sword 
 flying some feet away. My indiscretion gave my 
 man his chance. His blade caught in my rolled- 
 up sleeve, bent, and, as I drove my own through his 
 shoulder, passed clean through the left side of my 
 neck. With a great jet of blood, I fell, and for a 
 little knew no more." 
 
 This account from Jack s journal is a better state 
 ment of this sad business than I could have set down. 
 I saw with horror Jack and Le Clere salute, and then 
 was too full of business to see more, until I had dis 
 armed Mr. Woodville, badly woiinding his sword- 
 hand, a rare accident. And here was my Jack 
 dead, as I thought. I think I can never forget 
 that scene ; Mr. Le Clere, gaunt and thin, lifting his 
 
216 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 late foe, the surgeon kneeling and busy, my own 
 man hot and wrathful, cursing like mad, and wrap 
 ping his hand about with a handkerchief, clearly in 
 pain, and I waiting for the word of death or life. 
 
 At last the doctor said, " It is bad bad, but not 
 fatal. How came it, Le Clere ? You told me that 
 neither you nor Mr. Woodville meant anything 
 serious." 
 
 I was kneeling by Jack, and .was not intended to 
 hear what all were too hot and excited to guard by 
 bated breath. 
 
 " Damn it, doctor ! " returned Le Clere. " It is no 
 use to talk. I never imagined that youngster would 
 take me at my word." 
 
 " You will be in hot water here," said the doctor. 
 " I would advise you to get away, and soon." 
 
 "And we shall supply amusement to every mess 
 in the army," said Woodville, with an abundance of 
 bad language. " Quakers indeed ! " 
 
 Jack s eyes opened, and he said, "Thou art not 
 hurt, Hugh?" 
 
 " No, no ! n I answered, and, relieved a little, turned 
 to Mr. Le Clere : " We shall, I fear, have to ask thy 
 chaise of thee. We came afoot, I will send it back 
 at once." 
 
 Le Clere said, " Of course ; with all my heart." 
 
 " Thou wilt pardon me," said I, " if I advise thee 
 to accept the doctor s advice, and get away with all 
 speed. I should be sorry if thou wert arrested. The 
 feeling against gentlemen of thy profession is un 
 happily strong just now." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Le Clere looked me over with a quick glance of 
 something like curiosity, and said, as he gave his 
 hand, "You are a gallant gentleman, Mr. Wynne. 
 You will permit an older man to say so. I trust we 
 may meet again. Are all Quakers as clever at sword- 
 play?" 
 
 I said a civil word, seeing Jack smile as he lay 
 with iny bloody coat under his head. Then, as I re 
 membered that perhaps Mr. Woodville might not be 
 satisfied, I went up to him and said, "I am at thy 
 service, sir, if thou art not contented to let us be quit 
 of this matter." 
 
 "It must needs rest now," he replied. "Damn 
 your tricks ! " 
 
 " Sir ! " said I. 
 
 " Holloa ! " says Le Clere j " this won t do. Keep 
 your temper. This way, Mr. Wynne." And he drew 
 me aside. 
 
 It was full time ; I was beginning to get my blood 
 up, and was in a rage. 
 
 " This comes," he said, " of going out with a fellow 
 that has risen from the ranks. Why do your ladies 
 receive every one who wears a red coat? Let me 
 help you with your friend. I am most sorry. For 
 my share, I have a neat reminder in the shoulder. 
 Mr. Warder has the wrist of a blacksmith" which 
 was true, and for good reason. 
 
 There is no need to tell of the wrath and incapacity 
 of poor Jack s father. I got away as soon as Dr. 
 Rush arrived, and, promising to return in an hour, 
 went off with a smile from my Jack, and a " Thank 
 
218 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 God ! Hugh, that it was not thou who had the worst 
 of it." 
 
 It was about seven as I knocked at my aunt s 
 door, and, passing the black page, ran upstairs. 
 My aunt was in the breakfast-room; she came to 
 meet me in a morning gown, and to my astonishment 
 was very tranquil, but with eyes that looked anxious, 
 and far more red than common. 
 
 " Sit down, sir. I want to hear about this ridicu 
 lous business." 
 
 " It may seem so to thee," said I " I am glad if it 
 amuses thee." 
 
 "Stuff! Talk decent English, man. That was 
 like your father. Is are you is any one hurt?" 
 
 I said that was what we went for, and so told her 
 the whole sorry business. 
 
 " And it was for me, sir ! " she cried ; " for me ! 
 And my dear brave girl-boy ! Is it dangerous ? " 
 
 I hoped not. We had both left our marks on the 
 English officers. That she liked. Then she was silent 
 awhile. 
 
 " Here is come a note from the kitten. Will you 
 have it ? It may be all you will ever get of her. She 
 says she has held her tongue ; I can t I don t believe 
 her and asks me to let her know if any are hurt. 
 I will. Does she suppose gentlemen go out just to 
 look at one another ? Ridiculous ! " 
 
 I spoke at last of my father; of how he would 
 take this matter, of his increasing acerbity, and of 
 my own unhappy life, where I found nothing to re 
 place my mother s love. My last disaster and poor 
 
HUGH WYNNE 219 
 
 Jack s wound seemed like enough to widen the gap 
 between me and my parent, and my Aunt Gainor 
 was troubled. 
 
 " You must be first to tell him/ said my aunt. " I 
 think he will say but little. He has given you up 
 as a sheep lost in the darkness of iniquity, and too 
 black to be found easily." 
 
 I begged her not to jest. I was sore and sick at 
 heart. 
 
 " Eat your breakfast/ she said, " and get it over 
 with your father." 
 
 I hurried through the meal, and went upstairs, 
 to find my sleeve full of blood, although no harm 
 had been done but what was easily set right by what 
 Dr. Rush called a bit of diachylon plaster. (I think 
 I spell it correctly.) 
 
 As I went by Darthea s home I cast a glance up 
 at the open window, and saw my lady looking out. 
 She was pale, and as she called to me I could not 
 but go in, for, indeed, she ran herself to open the 
 door. 
 
 " Come in ! Oh, just a moment ! " she cried. " Your 
 aunt has written me a note, and it tells me almost 
 nothing nothing." 
 
 I was in no very kindly humour with MissDa-rthea. 
 Since our talk about my cousin she had been very 
 high and mighty, and would have little to say to me 
 except unpleasant things about the angry politics of 
 the day. I said I was glad to have heard she had 
 told no one of what my aunt s rash speech had let 
 slip. I had better have held my own tongue. Darthea 
 
220 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 was in another mood to-day, and all at once became 
 quiet and dignified. 
 
 " I gave my word, Mr. Wynne. When you know 
 me better you will learn that I can keep it. Is is 
 Mr. Warder much hurt ? " 
 
 " Yes/ 7 1 said ; " he is in great peril." I saw how 
 anxious she was, and was vexed enough to want to 
 hurt her. 
 
 " Oh, you men ! you men ! " she cried. "Will he 
 die, do you think ? Poor boy ! " She sat down and 
 began to cry. " He must not die ; why did you lead 
 him into such wicked trouble ? " 
 
 It was vain to explain how little I had to do with 
 the matter. Did she love Jack? I little knew in 
 those days how tender was this gentle heart, how it 
 went out, tendril-like, seeking it knew not what, and 
 was for this reason ever liable to say too much, and 
 to give rise to misapprehension. 
 
 " O Darthea ! " I cried. " Dost thou love my Jack ? 
 I shall be the last to come in his way. I have said 
 I love thee myself, and I can never change. But 
 how can it be ? how can it be ? And my cousin ? O 
 Darthea ! " 
 
 " I love no one, sir. I love everybody. I I think 
 you are impertinent, Mr. Wynne. Is it your business 
 whom I love ? My God ! there is blood on your hand ! 
 Are you hurt ? " 
 
 It was true j a little blood was trickling down my 
 wrist. She was all tenderness again. I must not go ; 
 here was her handkerchief 5 and so on till I longed 
 to take her in my arms, she made me so sorry for her. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 221 
 
 I said it was of no moment, and I must go. 
 
 " You will come soon again, and tell me about Jack." 
 
 I went away, not wondering that all the world 
 should love her. 
 
 I hastened to Jack s home, and there found Dr. 
 Eush and Dr. Glentworth, who was later to be the 
 physician of Mr. Washington. My aunt, preceding 
 me, had taken possession. Mr. Warder was re 
 duced to a condition of abject obedience, and for a 
 month and more my aunt hardly left her girl-boy s 
 pillow. Indeed, it was long before I was let to see 
 him, and then he was but a spectre of himself, with 
 not enough blood to blush with. Our officers very 
 promptly left for New York the day after our fight, 
 and we heard no more of them. 
 
 It would have been of little use to tell this long 
 story but for the consequences to me and to others. 
 I should have done well to see my father at once j 
 but I could not get away, and sat till noon, asking 
 every now and then what I could do, and if Jack 
 were better, despite the fact that I was told he was 
 doing well. 
 
 Mr. Warder was one of those people who, once a 
 crisis seems over, must still be doing something, and 
 to be rid of him he was sent by my aunt to get 
 certain articles the doctors did or did not need. 
 It seemed wise to this gentleman, having completed 
 his errands, to pay a visit of condolence to my father, 
 and thus it was that greater mischief was made. 
 
 About two I got away, and set forth to see my par 
 ent. Already the news was out, and I was stopped 
 
222 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 over and over to explain what had happened. It was 
 the hour of dinner; for Friends dined at two, but 
 my aunt and the gayer set at four. 
 
 My father turned from his meal, and coldly looked 
 me all over, my arm was in a sling, on which Dr. 
 Rush had insisted, and last into my eyes. " Well," 
 he said, " thou art come at last. Fortunately, Friend 
 Warder has been here, and I know thy story and the 
 mischief into which thou hast led his poor lad. It is 
 time we had a settlement, thou and I. Hast thou fear 
 neither of God nor of man ? A rebellious son, and 
 a defier of authority ! It is well thy mother is dead 
 before she saw thee come to this ruin of soul and 
 body." 
 
 "My God ! father," I cried; "how canst thou 
 hurt me thus ! I am in sorrow for Jack, and want 
 help. To whom should I go but to thee ? O mother, 
 mother ! " I looked around at the bare walls, and 
 down at the sanded floor, and could only bury my 
 face in my hands and weep like a baby. What with 
 all the day had brought, and Darthea and Jack, and 
 now this grand old man silent, impassive, unmoved 
 by what was shaking me like a storm, although I 
 loved him still for all his hardness, I had no refuge 
 but in tears. 
 
 He rose, and I sat still, thinking what I should say. 
 "When thou art ready to turn from thy sin and ask 
 pardon of God and of me, who am brought to shame 
 on thy account, I will talk with thee." 
 
 Upon this I set myself between him and the door. 
 " We cannot part this way. It is too terrible." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 223 
 
 is 
 
 " That was a matter thou hadst been wise to con 
 sider long ago, Hugh." 
 
 " No ! " I cried. I was as resolved as he. " I must 
 be heard. How have I offended ? Have I neglected 
 thy business? who can say so? I was insulted in 
 Meeting, and I went where men do not trample on 
 a penitent boy, and if I have gone the way of my 
 aunt s world, is it my fault or thine ? I have gone 
 away from what, in thy opinion, is right as regards 
 questions in which the best and purest side with me. 
 Am I a child, that I may not use my own judgment ? " 
 It was the first time in my life that I had plainly 
 asserted my freedom to think and to act. 
 
 To my surprise, he stood a moment in silence, 
 looking down, I as quiet, regarding him with eager 
 and attentive eyes. Then he said, seeking my gaze, 
 "I am to blame; I have too much considered thy 
 chances of worldly gain. I know not whence thou 
 hast thy wilfulness." As I looked in the face of this 
 strong, rock-like man, I wondered ; for he went on, 
 "Not from me, Hugh, not from me 
 
 "Stop!" I said. "Thou hast said enough." I 
 feared lest again he should reproach her of whose 
 sweetness I had naught but a gift of the blue eyes 
 that must have met his with menace. I saw, as his 
 hands shook, tapping the floor with his cane, how 
 great were both his anger and his self-control. 
 
 " It were well, my son, that this ended. I hope 
 thou wilt see thy way to better courses. Thy cousin 
 was right. He, too, is a man not of my world, but 
 he saw more clearly than I where thou wert going. 7 
 
224 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "What!" I cried, "and them canst think this? 
 Thou hast believed and trusted Arthur Wynne! 
 What did he say of me?" 
 
 " I will not be questioned." 
 
 "The man lied to thee," I cried, "why, I do not 
 know, and to others also. Why did he deceive us 
 as to Wyncote ? What reason had he ? As he lied 
 about that, so does he seem to have lied about me. 
 By heaven ! he shall answer me some day." 
 
 "I will hear no profanity in my house. Stand 
 aside ! Dost thou not hear me ? Am I to be dis 
 obeyed in my own house ? " 
 
 I but half took in his meaning, and stood still. 
 The next moment he seized me by the lapels of my 
 coat, and, spinning me round like a child, pushed me 
 from him. I fell into the great Penn chair he had 
 turned from the table when he rose. He threw open 
 the door, and I saw him walk quickly down the hall 
 and out into the orchard garden. 
 
 For a week he did no more than speak to me a 
 word when business made it needful, and then the 
 monotonous days went on as before in the gray, 
 dismal home, out of which the light of life s gladness 
 departed when those dear mother-eyes were closed 
 in death. 
 
XIV 
 
 PILE, throughout that sad summer, my 
 Jack was slowly coming back to health, 
 even the vast events of the war now 
 under way moved me but little. My Aunt 
 Gainor would think of no one but her 
 young Quaker. Her house was no longer gay, nor 
 would she go to the country, until Mr. Warder agreed 
 that she should take Jack with us to the Hill Farm 
 house, where, in the warm months, she moved among 
 her cattle, and fed the hens, and helped and bullied 
 every poor housewife far and near. 
 
 In a bright-tinted hammock I fetched from Ma 
 deira, Jack used to lie under the apple-trees that 
 June and July, with my aunt for company ; better 
 could hardly have been. When I came from town 
 in June, with news of what the farmers and their 
 long rifles had done at Bunker Hill, it was a little 
 too much for Jack s strength, and he burst into tears. 
 But Dr. Rush declared that self-control was an affair 
 of physical health, and that he who had too little 
 blood and Jack was lily-white could be neither 
 courageous, nor able to contain his emotions. I sup 
 pose it may be true. 
 
 I went in and out of town daily, my father being 
 
 15 225 
 
226 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 unwilling to go to Merion. At times I met James 
 "Wilson, who was steadily urging me to enter the 
 army. Wetherill had scarce any other words for me. 
 But my father, Jack s condition, and my aunt s de 
 pending on me, all stood in my way, and I did but 
 content myself with an hour s daily drill in town 
 with others, who were thus preparing themselves 
 for active service. 
 
 We were taught, and well too, by an Irish ser 
 geantI fear a deserter from one of his Majesty s reg 
 iments. As Jack got better, he was eager to have 
 me put him through his facings, but before he was 
 fit the summer was nigh over. 
 
 It had been a time of great anxiety to all men. 
 The Virginia colonel was commander-in-chief j a 
 motley army held Sir William Howe penned up in 
 Boston, and why he so quietly accepted this sheep- 
 like fate no man of us could comprehend. My aunt, 
 a great letter- writer, had many correspondents, and 
 one or two in the camp at Cambridge. 
 
 " My Virginia fox-hunter," said my aunt, " is hav 
 ing evil days with the New England farmers. He is 
 disposed to be despotic, says well, no matter who. 
 He likes the whipping-post too well, and thinks all 
 should, like himself, serve without pay. A slow man 
 it is, but intelligent/ 7 says my Aunt Gainor ; " sure 
 to get himself right, and patient too. You will see, 
 Hugh; he will come slowly to understand these 
 people." 
 
 I smiled at the good lady s confidence, and yet she 
 was right. They took him ill at first in that undis- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 227 
 
 eiplined camp, and queer things were said of him. 
 Like the rest, he was learning the business of war, 
 and was to commit many blunders and get sharp 
 lessons in this school of the soldier. 
 
 These were everywhere uneasy times. Day after 
 day we heard of this one or that one gone to swell 
 the ever-changing number of those who beset Sir 
 William. Gondolas most unlike gondolas they 
 were were being built in haste for our own river 
 defence. Committees, going from house to house, 
 collected arms, tent-stuffs, kettles, blankets, and what 
 not, for our troops. There were noisy elections, arrests 
 of Tories ; and in October the death of Peyton Ran 
 dolph, ex-president of the Congress, and the news 
 of the coming of the Hessian hirelings. It was a 
 season of stir, angry discussion, and stern waiting 
 for what was to come ; but through it all my Jack 
 prospered mightily in health, so that by September 
 20 he was fit to leave us. 
 
 I still think pleasantly of all the pretty pictures of 
 pale, fair-haired Jack in the hammock, with Darthea 
 reading to him, and the Whig ladies with roses from 
 their gardens, and peaches and what not, all for Jack, 
 the hero, I being that summer but a small and alto 
 gether unimportant personage. 
 
 When my Jack went home again, we began at 
 once to talk over our plans for joining Mr. Wash 
 ington ; I made sure that now there was no greater 
 obstacle in my way than my father s opinions. 
 Alas! in November my aunt took what Dr. Rush 
 called a pernicious ague, and, although bled many 
 
228 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 times and fed on Jesuits bark, she came near to dy 
 ing. In January she was better, but was become like 
 a child, and depended upon me for everything. If I 
 but spoke of my desire to be in the field, she would 
 fall to tears or declare me ungrateful. She was 
 morally weakened by her disease, and did seem to have 
 changed as to her character. I lamented to Jack 
 that it was my fate to stay, and he must go alone f - 
 I would follow when I could. 
 
 It was far into April before my aunt was entirely 
 her old self, but as early as the close of January she 
 had decided that she was well, and that to be well 
 you must get rid of doctors. She told the great 
 physician as much, and he left her in vast disgust. 
 Society she would now have had for remedial dis 
 traction, but the war had made of it a dismal wreck. 
 The Tories had been warned or sent away; the 
 moderates hardly fared better; and the old gay set 
 was broken up. Nevertheless it was not until far 
 later, in July, 77, that Mr. Chew, Mr. Penn, and 
 other as important neutrals, were ordered to leave 
 the city j until then some remnants of the governor s 
 set kept up more or less of the pleasant life they had 
 once led. But there were no more redcoats in their 
 drawing-rooms, and our antagonists were of the last 
 who had lingered. Even before their departure, any 
 gentleman of the king s service was sure to be told 
 to leave, and meanwhile was apt to find a militiaman 
 at his door. 
 
 My aunt would have none of them that winter, 
 and her old Tory friends ceased to be seen at her 
 
HUGH WYNNE 229 
 
 house, save only Darthea; whilst continental uniforms 
 and gentlemen of the Congress were made warmly 
 welcome j but alas ! among these was no match for 
 her at piquet, and she felt that no one had sacrificed 
 more for the country than had she. 
 
 In February of 76 a double change took place 
 among us, and to my great discontent. I had seen 
 much of Darthea in the fall and early winter of 75, 
 and had come to know her better. She was fond of 
 riding with my aunt, who had a strong gray stallion 
 full of tricks, but no master of the hardy old lady, 
 whom neither horse nor man ever dismayed. The 
 good spinster was by no means as vigorous as I 
 could have wished, but ride she would on all clear 
 days whether cold or not, and liked well to have 
 Darthea with us. When ill she was a docile patient, 
 but, once afoot, declared all doctors fools, and would 
 have no more of them " and their filthy doses." 
 
 We rode of sunlit winter days out to Germantown, 
 or upon the wood roads over Schuylkill, my Aunt 
 Gainor from good nature being pleased to gallop 
 ahead, and leave us to chat and follow, or not, as 
 might suit us. 
 
 One fine crisp morning in February we were 
 breasting at a walk the slippery incline of Chestnut 
 Hill, when Darthea, who had been unusually silent, 
 said quite abruptly : 
 
 " I am going away, Mr. Wynne." 
 
 I was instantly troubled. " Where ? " I said. 
 
 "Next week, and to New York. My aunt can 
 no longer stand all this mob of rebels. We go to 
 
230 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 New York, and for how long I know not. Since, 
 in September, our friend, Dr. John Kearsley, was 
 mobbed and maltreated, my aunt declares you unfit 
 to live among. I must say I thought it brutal, sir. 
 When men of sense and breeding like Mr. Penn, 
 Mr. Chew, and Dr. Kearsley, cannot live unmolested 
 it is time, my aunt thinks, to run." 
 
 "No one annoys Mr. Penn or Mr. Chew," said I. 
 " To my mind, they are neutrals, and worse than 
 open foes ; but thy doctor is a mad Tory, and a 
 malignant talker. I saw the matter, and I assure 
 thee it was overstated. He lost his temper j t is 
 a brave gentleman, and I would he were with us. 
 But now that both sides are sure at last that they 
 are really at war, these men who live among us and 
 are ready to welcome every redcoat must have their 
 lesson. It must be Yes or No, in a war like this. 7 
 
 " But I hate that," she returned j " and to be com 
 fortable and snug, and to love ease and Madeira and 
 a quiet horse, and a book and a pipe and a nap of 
 an afternoon, and then to have certain of the baser 
 sort cry, l Get up and kill somebody ! I think I am 
 with Mr. Boss, and believe that, l let who will be king, 
 I well know I shall be subject. Imagine my Aunt 
 Peniston s fat poodle invited to choose between exile 
 and killing rats." 
 
 " My dear Darthea, for thee to preach caution and 
 neutrality is delightful." 
 
 " Did it sound like that Mr. Congregation ? " 
 
 " No j to tell the truth, I think it did not." 
 
 " Indeed, you are right," says she. " I am a red- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 231 
 
 hot Tory, sir. I scare Margaret Chew out of her 
 sweet wits when I talk blood, blood, sir; and as to 
 Miss Franks, she hates to be called Becky, when I 
 say I hope to see Mr. Washington hanged, she vows 
 he is too fine a man, and she would only hang the 
 ugly ones. So take care, Mr. Stay-at-home, take 
 care j I am no neutral." 
 
 " Thank thee," I said, lifting my hat. " I like open 
 enemies best." 
 
 " Oh, I will say a good word for you, when it comes 
 to that, and you will need it. Sir Guy will have 
 Ticonderoga soon, and Mr. Howe New York ; so that, 
 with my loyal cousins and the king in possession, 
 we shall at least be in civilised society. 
 
 "There is a well-worn proverb," said I, "about 
 counting chickens. "Where shalt thou be in New 
 York!" 
 
 " Cousin De Lancey has asked us to stay with them. 
 When the king s troops return to your rebel town 
 we shall come back, I suppose." 
 
 " I am sorry," I said. " All my friends are flitting 
 like swallows. Poor Mr. Franks is to go, it seems, 
 and the gay Miss Rebecca ; but she likes the redcoats 
 best, and another is of the same mind, I fear." 
 
 "I am not over-grieved to go myself," said Darthea, 
 " and we will not quarrel just now about the redcoats. 
 Have you seen Mr. Warder to-day ? " 
 
 " I have not." 
 
 " Then I am the bearer of ill news. He is to join 
 your new general in a week or two. He could not 
 find you this morning. I think he was relieved to 
 
232 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 know I should tell you. How much he cares for you ! 
 It is not like a man friendship. It is like the way 
 we weak girls care for one another. How can he 
 be such a brave gentleman as he seems as he must 
 be? I should have thought it would be you who 
 would have gone first. Why do you not go ? Here 
 is Miss Wynne s pet girl-boy away to fight, and you 
 why do not you go ? " 
 
 I was puzzled, as well I might be. "Dost thou 
 want me to go ? " 
 
 A quick light came into those brown eyes, and a 
 little flush to the cheeks as she said, oh, so very 
 quickly, "I want all my friends to do what seems 
 to them right." 
 
 " I am glad to answer," I said. " It seems to me 
 my duty to be with the army ; my friends have gone, 
 and now Graydon, the last to leave, has also gone. 
 I fancy people smiling to see me still at home I 
 who am so positive, so outspoken. But here is my 
 father, with whom if I go I break for life, and here 
 is my Aunt Gainor, who bursts into tears if I do but 
 mention my wish to leave her." 
 
 " I see," said Darthea, not looking at me ; " now I 
 understand fully ; I did not before. But will you 
 think it strange if if I say I, a good and loyal 
 woman that you should go, and soon ? " Then there 
 was a long pause, and she added, "When will this 
 cruel war end ? " 
 
 " God knows," said I. " Thank thee ; thou art right, 
 Darthea." 
 
 Another pause as long came after, when she said 
 
HUGH WYNNE 233 
 
 abruptly, and in quite another voice, "You do not 
 like Mr. Arthur Wynne ; why do you not ? " 
 
 I was startled. One never knew when she would 
 get under one s guard and put some prickly question. 
 
 " Dost thou think I have reason to like him ? " I 
 said. " I did like him once, but now I do not ; nor 
 does he love me any better. Why dost thou ask 
 me?" 
 
 "Oh, for no matter! I am not going to say 
 why." 
 
 "I think thou knowest, Darthea, that he is no 
 friend of mine." 
 
 "Let us join your aunt," she said gravely. 
 
 " One word more," said I, " and I shall trouble thee 
 no further. Rest sure that, come what may, there 
 is one man who loves thee with a love no man can 
 better." 
 
 " I wish you had not said that. There are some, 
 Mr. Wynne, who never know when to take No for 
 an answer." 
 
 " I am one," said I. 
 
 To this she made no reply, and rode on looking 
 ahead in a dreamy way that fetched back to my 
 memory a prettiness my dear mother had. Pres 
 ently turning, she said : 
 
 "Let it end here; and and my name is Miss 
 Peniston, please." 
 
 There was no pettishness in her voice only a 
 certain dignity which sits better on little women 
 than on little men, and provokes no smile. She was 
 looking at me with a curious steadiness of gaze as 
 
234 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 she spoke. It was my last chance for many a day, 
 and I could not let her go with a mere bow of meek 
 submission. 
 
 " If I have been rude or discourteous, I am more 
 sorry than I can say. If I called thee Darthea, it 
 was because hope seemed to bring us nearer for one 
 dear moment. Ah ! I may call thee Miss Peniston, 
 but for me always thou wilt be Darthea j and I shall 
 love Darthea to the end, even when Miss Peniston 
 has come to be a distant dream and has another 
 name. I am most sorry to have given thee. annoy 
 ance. Forget that, and pardon me." 
 
 " Mr. Wynne, you are a kindly and courteous gen 
 tleman. I wish and you must not misapprehend 
 me that I loved you. Oh, I do not. Your aunt, 
 who is so good to me, is a fierce wooer. I am afraid 
 of her, and she must be miles away; let us join 
 her." And with this she shook her bridle, and was 
 off at speed, and my mare and I at her side. 
 
 If I have made those who loved Darthea Peniston 
 and me understand this winning soul, I shall be 
 glad j and if not I shall at least have had the plea 
 sure of repeating words and describing actions which 
 live in my remembrance with such exactness as does 
 not apply to much of what, to the outer world, may 
 seem far better entitled to be remembered. She had 
 it in her to hurt you, help you, pity you, mock or 
 amuse you, and back of it all was the honesty and 
 truth of a womanhood capable of courageous conduct, 
 and despising all forms of meanness. That she was 
 variously regarded was natural. Margaret Shippen 
 
HUGH WYNNE 235 
 
 said she cared only for dress and the men j and the 
 witty Miss Franks, seeing further, but not all, said 
 that Darthea Peniston was an actress of the minute, 
 who believed her every role to be real. My wise 
 aunt declared that she was several women, and that 
 she did not always keep some of them in order. It 
 was clear, to me at least, that she was growing older 
 in mind, and was beginning to keep stricter school 
 for those other women with whom my aunt credited 
 this perplexing little lady. 
 
 Before I quite leave her for a time, I must let 
 Jack say a word. It will tell more than I then knew 
 or could know, and will save me from saying that 
 which were better said by another. 
 
 " At last there is certainty of a long war, and I, 
 being well again, must take my side. It is fortunate 
 when choice is so easy, for I find it often hard in life 
 to know just what is right. Poor Hugh, who has 
 gone further than I from our fathers faith, will still 
 declare he is of Friends j but he commonly drops our 
 language if he is not excited or greatly interested, 
 and the rest will go too. It is strange that his reso 
 luteness and clear notions of duty have so helped 
 me, and yet that he is so caught and tied fast by 
 Miss Gainor s dependence upon him, and by his 
 scruples as to his father. He cannot do the thing 
 he would. Now that my own father has sold out his 
 business, I at least am left without excuse. I shall 
 go at once, for fear I shall change my mind." A 
 more unlikely thing I cannot imagine to have hap 
 pened to John Warder. 
 
236 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " I saw Darthea to-day/ 7 he goes on to write. " She 
 is going to New York. She talked to me with such 
 frankness as almost broke my heart. She does not 
 know how dear she is to me. I was near to telling 
 her 5 but if she said No 7 and she would, I might 
 oh, I could not see her again. I had rather live 
 in doubt. And whether Hugh loves her or not I 
 would Iknew. Mistress Wynne does but laugh and 
 say, - l Lord bless us ! they all love her ! Hugh is, 
 as to some things, reticent, and of Darthea likes so 
 little to speak that I am led to think it is a serious 
 business for him and if it be so, what can I but go ? 
 for how could I come between him and a woman 
 he loved ? Never, surely. Why is life such a tangle ? 
 As concerns this thing, it is well I am going. What 
 else is left for me ? My duty has long been plain. 
 
 "I did venture to ask Darthea of Mr. Arthur 
 Wynne. She said quietly, I have had a letter to 
 day; and with this she looked at me in a sort of 
 defiant way. I like the man not at all, and wonder 
 that women fancy him so greatly. When I said I 
 was sorry she was going, she replied, It is no 
 one s business ; and then added, nor Mr. Wynne s 
 neither, as if Hugh had said a word. In fact, Miss 
 Peniston was almost as cross and abrupt as dear Miss 
 Wynne at her worst. If ever, God willing, I should 
 marry her, there, I am blushing even to think of 
 such a sweet impossibility, she would drive me fran 
 tic. I should be in small rages or begging her par 
 don every half -hour of the day. 
 
 " What will Hugh say when he hears the Meeting 
 
HUGH WYNNE 237 
 
 means to disown us? It troubles me deeply. My 
 father is trembling too, for since a month he is all 
 for resisting oppression, and who has been talking 
 to him I do not know. Miss Wynne called him a 
 decrepit weathercock to me last month, and then 
 was in a fury at herself, and sorry too j but she will 
 talk with him no more. It cannot be because he 
 has sold his Holland cloths so well to the etfothier- 
 general. I never can think that. 
 
 " When I saw Miss Wynne, and would have seen 
 Hugh had he been in, I told her of my meaning to 
 go away by the packet to Burlington, and thence 
 through New Jersey. She said it was well, but that 
 Hugh should not go yet. He should go soon. Mr. 
 Lee, the new general, had been to see her a great 
 soldier, she was told. But she had not liked him, 
 because he let her believe he came of the same family 
 as Mr. Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, whereas this 
 is not so. He was lank, sour, and ill dressed, she 
 said, and fetched his two dogs into the house. When 
 he saw Hugh, he said it was time all the young men 
 were out. Miss Wynne disliked this, and it is re 
 ported that Mrs. Ferguson and she, meeting after 
 church, had nearly come to blows, because Mrs. Fer 
 guson had said the people who made the war should 
 be in the war, and on this the old lady desired to 
 know if this arrow was meant for her or for her 
 nephew. Mrs. F., not lacking courage, said she 
 might choose. 
 
 " So Madam Wynne is pulled this way and that, 
 and I must go alone ; and I shall have a lieutenant s 
 
238 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 commission, and a pretty fellow am I to order other 
 men about. I like best the continental line." 
 
 I saw Jack the day after my ride with Miss Pen- 
 iston. I said sadly that he was right, and we talked 
 it all over that week, running down the river at early 
 morning after ducks, and through the wide channel 
 between League Island and the Neck; or else we 
 were away to Red Bank, or to the Jersey coast, if 
 the ice permitted, as it often did. It was a wonder 
 ful, open winter, as it chanced, and we had more 
 than our usual share of the ducks, which were very 
 abundant. As we lay in the gray weeds below the 
 bluff at Red Bank, we little thought of what it was 
 to see. Our gallant Mercer, who fell at Princeton, 
 was to give a name to the fort we built long after 
 and there, too, was to die Count Donop, as brave a 
 man, far from home, sold by his own prince to be 
 the hireling of a shameful king. 
 
 The ducks flew over thick, and between times, as 
 we waited, we talked at intervals of the war, of 
 Montgomery s failure to capture Quebec, and of the 
 lingering siege of Boston ; of how the brutal de 
 struction of Norfolk in December had stirred the Vir 
 ginians, and indeed every true heart in the colonies. 
 Jack would write when occasion served. 
 
 That last day (it was now February, as I have said) 
 we supped with my aunt, Jack and I. After the meal 
 was over, she went out of the room, and, coming back, 
 gave Jack a handsome, serviceable sword, with a 
 proper sash and tie. Then she must make him take 
 a hundred pounds in a purse she had netted} and 
 
HUGH WYNNE 239 
 
 when he would not she said he was going to school, 
 and must have a tip, and would hear no more, and 
 kissed him, at which he got very red. Indeed, she 
 was deeply moved, as was plain to see from the way 
 she talked, speaking fast, and saying all manner of 
 foolish things. 
 
 This business of the sword troubled me more than 
 it ought to have done, and I resolved that nothing 
 should long keep me out of the field ; but alas ! it was 
 many a day before my going became possible. And 
 so my Jack went away, and Miss Peniston. 
 
 The war was dull for a time, as the armies got 
 ready for a spring at each other s throats. At last, 
 in March, his Excellency seized Dorchester Heights, 
 and Boston became no longer tenable. Howe left 
 it on March 14, and, what was as desirable, some two 
 hundred cannon and vast stores of ammunition. 
 Then, on Cambridge Common, our chief threw to the 
 free winds our flag, with its thirteen stripes, and still 
 in the corner the blood-red cross of St. George. 
 
 Late in this winter of 75- 76, an event took place, 
 or rather the sequel of an event, which made me feel 
 deeply the embarrassment in which the condition of 
 my aunt and father placed me. He who reads may 
 remember my speaking of a young fellow whom I 
 saw at the Woodlands, John Macpherson. I took 
 a great fancy to him later, and we fished and shot 
 together until he went away, in August of 75, to 
 join Arnold for his wild march into Canada. 
 
 His father, broken and sad, now brought to my 
 aunt the news of his son s death in the assault on 
 
240 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Quebec, and, speechless with grief, showed her the 
 young fellow s letter, writ the night before he fell. 
 He wrote, with other matter : " I cannot resist the 
 inclination I feel to assure you that I experience no 
 reluctance in this cause to venture a life I consider 
 as only lent, and to be used when my country de 
 mands it." He went on to say that, if he died, he 
 could wish his brother William, an adjutant in the 
 king s army, would not continue in the service of 
 our enemies. I saw, too, General Schuyler s letter 
 of condolence, but this was later. 
 
 Nothing had moved me like this. I went away, 
 leaving the father and my aunt. People came to this 
 strong woman, sure of her tenderest help, and I trust 
 she comforted her friend in his loss. This was the 
 first officer of our own set our city lost in war, and 
 the news, I think, affected me more than any. How, 
 indeed, could I dare to stay when the best manhood 
 of the land was facing death in a cause as dear to 
 me as to any ? 
 
 In June a new calamity fell on me, or I should say 
 on my father ; for I felt it but little, or only as in 
 some degree a release from bonds which I hesitated 
 to sever by my own act. On the morning of June 25, 
 my father called me into his counting-room, and, 
 closing the door, sat down, I, as was thought fit, 
 standing until told to be seated. Since he made no 
 sign of any such desire on his part, I knew at once 
 that this was not to be a talk about our affairs, in 
 which, I may say, I had no interest except as to a 
 very moderate salary. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 241 
 
 " Thou wilt have to-day a call from Friend Pem- 
 berton. The overseers are moved, at last, to call thee 
 to an account. I have lost hope that thou wilt for 
 sake and condemn thy error. I have worked with 
 the overseers to give thee and thy friend, John War 
 der, time, and this has been with tenderness accorded. 
 No good is yet come of it. If this private admoni 
 tion be of no effect, thy case will come before over 
 seers again, and thou wilt be dealt with as a disorderly 
 person, recommended to be disowned, when thy mis 
 deeds come to be laid before the Quarterly Meeting 
 for discipline. Already the Yearly Meeting hath 
 found fault with us for lax dealing with such as 
 thou art. Thou hast ceased to obey either thy 
 father or thy God, and now my shame for thee is 
 opened to all men." 
 
 Not greatly moved I listened to this summary of 
 what was to happen. "It is too late," I said, "to 
 argue this matter, my dear father. I cannot sin 
 against my conscience. I will receive Mr. Pemberton 
 as thy friend. He is a man whom all men respect 
 and many love, but his ways are no longer my ways. 
 Is that all ? " I added. I feared any long talk with 
 my father. We were as sure to fall out at last as 
 were he and my Aunt Gainor. 
 
 " Yes," he said ; " that is all. And tell Wilson to 
 bring me the invoice of the l Saucy Sally. 7 " 
 
 This time neither of us had lost temper. He had 
 transacted a piece of business which concerned my 
 soul, and I had listened. It had left me sore, but 
 that was an old and too familiar story. Reflecting 
 
 16 
 
242 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 on what had passed in the counting-house, and my 
 conclusion now shows me how fast I was growing 
 older, I put on my hat at once, and set out to find 
 the overseer deputed to make a private remonstrance 
 with my father s son. I suppose that my action was 
 also hastened by a disinclination to lie still, awaiting 
 an unpleasant and unavoidable business. 
 
 Finding James Pemberton in his office, I told him 
 that my errand was out of respect to relieve him of 
 the need to call upon a younger man. He seemed 
 pleased, and opened the matter in a way so gentle 
 and considerate that I am sure no man could have 
 bettered the manner of doing it. My attention to 
 business and quieter life had for a time reassured 
 the overseers. He would not speak of blood-guilti 
 ness now, for out of kindness to my distressed parent 
 they had seen fit to wait, and for a time to set it 
 aside. My father had been in much affliction, and 
 Friends had taken note of this. Now he had to call 
 to my mind the testimony of Friends as to war, and 
 even how many had been reported to the Yearly 
 Meeting for Sufferings on account of righteous un 
 willingness to resist constituted authority, and how 
 men of my views had oppressed and abused them. 
 Had I read the letter of the Yearly Meeting of 1774, 
 warning members not to depart from their peaceful 
 principles by taking part in any of the political mat 
 ters then being stirred up, reminding all Friends that 
 under the king s government they had been favoured 
 with a peaceful and prosperous enjoyment of their 
 rights, and the like ? 
 
HUGH WYNNE 243 
 
 I listened quietly, and said it was too late to discuss 
 these questions, which were many j that my mind 
 was fully made up, and that as soon as possible I 
 meant to enter the army. He had the good sense 
 to see that I was of no inclination to change ; and 
 so, after some words of the most tender remonstrance, 
 he bade me to prayerfully consider the business fur 
 ther, since overseers would not meet at once, and 
 even when they did there would be time to manifest 
 to Friends a just sense of my errors. 
 
 I thanked him, and went my way, making, however, 
 no sign of grace, so that, on July 4 of this 1776, 
 late in the evening, I received in my aunt s presence 
 a letter from Isaac Freeman, clerk of the Meeting, 
 inclosing a formal minute of the final action of 
 Friends in my case. 
 
 " What is that ? " said Aunt Gainor, very cheerful 
 over a letter of thanks to her for having sold at cost 
 to the Committee of Safety the cloth of Holland and 
 the blankets she had induced my father to buy for 
 her. She had stored them away for this hour of 
 need, and was now full of satisfaction because of 
 having made my father the means of clothing the 
 continental troops. 
 
 " Read it aloud. What is it, sir ? " I was smiling 
 over what a few years before would have cost me 
 many a bitter thought. 
 
 " Give it me ! What is it ? " Then she put on a 
 pair of the new spectacles with wire supports to rest 
 on the ears. " Dr. Franklin gave me these new in 
 ventions, and a great comfort too. I cannot endure 
 
244 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 bridge glasses ; they leave dents in one s nose. You 
 have not seen him lately. He was here to-day. You 
 should see him, Hugh. He was dressed very fine in 
 a velvet coat with new, shilling buttons, and bless 
 me ! but he has got manners as fine as his ruffles, 
 and that is saying a good deal Mechlin of the best. 
 You would not know the man." 
 
 With this she began to look at my letter. " Hoity- 
 toity, sir ! this is a fine setting down for a naughty 
 Quaker." And she read it aloud in a strong voice, 
 her head back, and the great promontory of her nose 
 twitching at the nostrils now and then with supreme 
 contempt : 
 
 " l To HUGH WYNNE : A minute, this Tenth-day of 
 Sixth-month, 1776, from the monthly Meeting of 
 Friends held at Philadelphia. 
 
 " < Whereas Hugh Wynne hath had his birth and 
 education among Friends, and, as we believe, hath 
 been convinced of that divine principle which pre 
 serves the followers thereof from^a disposition to 
 contend for the asserting of civil rights in a manner 
 contrary to our peaceful profession, yet doth not 
 manifest a disposition to make the Meeting a proper 
 acknowledgment of his outgoings, and hath further 
 declared his intention to continue his wrong-doing ; 
 
 111 Therefore, for the clearing of truth and our 
 society, we give forth our testimony against such 
 breaches, and can have no unity with him, the said 
 Hugh Wynne, as a member of our society until he 
 become sensible of his deviations, and come to a sense 
 
HUGH WYNNE 245 
 
 of his error, and condemn the same to the satisfac 
 tion of Friends ; which is that we, as Christian men, 
 desire. 
 
 " l Signed in, and on behalf of, the Meeting by 
 
 " l ISAAC FREEMAN, 
 " Clerk: 
 
 "What insolent nonsense ! n cried Miss Wynne. " I 
 hope your father is satisfied. I assure you I am. 
 You are free at last. Here was James Warder to-day 
 with a like document to the address of my dear Jack. 
 I was assured that it was a terrible disgrace. I bade 
 him take snuff and not be any greater fool than, na 
 ture had made him. He took my snuff and sneezed 
 for ten minutes. I think it helped him. One can 
 neither grieve nor reason when one is sneezing. It 
 is what Dr. Rush calls a moral alterative. Whenever 
 the man fell to lamenting, I gave him more snuff. 
 I think it helped him. And so the baa-lambs of Meet 
 ing have disowned their two black sheep. Well, well ! 
 I have better news for you. Mr. Carroll was here 
 just now, with his charming ways. One would think 
 when he is talking that one is the only woman alive. 
 If I thought the priests taught him the trick, I would 
 turn papist. You should observe his bow, Hugh. I 
 thought Mr. Chew s bow not to be surpassed; but 
 Mr. Carroll oh, where was II" 
 
 " Some good news," I said. 
 
 " Yes, yes. He tells me the Congress this evening 
 voted for a Declaration of Independence." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I cried. " So it has come at last. I, 
 
246 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 too, am free, and it is time I went away, Aunt 
 Gainor." 
 
 " We will see," she said. "How can I do without 
 you? and there is your father too. He is not the 
 man he was, and I do not see, Hugh, how you can 
 leave him yet." 
 
 It was too true, as my last interview had shown 
 me. He was no longer the strong, steadily obstinate 
 John Wynne of a year or two back. He was less 
 decisive, made occasional errors in his accounts, and 
 would sometimes commit himself to risky ventures. 
 Then Thomas Mason, our clerk, or my aunt would 
 interfere, and he would protest and yield, having now 
 by habit a great respect for my aunt s sagacity, which 
 in fact was remarkable. 
 
 I went back to my work discontented, and pulled 
 this way and that, not clearly seeing what I ought 
 to do ; for how could I leave him as he now was ? 
 My aunt was right. 
 
 Next day I heard Captain John Nixon read in the 
 state-house yard the noble words of the declara 
 tion. Only a few hundred were there to hear it, and 
 its vast consequences few men as yet could apprehend. 4 
 Miss Norris told me not long after that she climbed 
 on a barrow and looked over their garden wall at 
 Fifth street and Chestnut ; " and really, Mr. Wynne, 
 there were not ten decent coats in the crowd." But 
 this Miss Norris was a hot Tory, and thought us all 
 an underbred mob, as, I fear, did most of the pro 
 prietary set the men lacking civil courage to fight 
 on either side, and amazed that Mr. Wilson, and 
 
HUGH WYNNE 247 
 
 Mr. Reed, and Mr. Robert Morris, and the Virginia 
 gentry, should side with demagogues like Adams 
 and .Roger Sherman. 
 
 And so time ran on. I fenced, drilled, saw my 
 companions drift away into war, and knew not how 
 to escape. I can now look back on my dismissal 
 from Meeting with more regret than it gave my youth. 
 I have never seen my way to a return to Friends ; 
 yet I am still apt to be spoken of as one of the small 
 number who constitute, with Wetherill and Owen 
 and Clement Biddle, the society of Friends known 
 as Free Quakers. To discuss why later I did not 
 claim my place as one of these would lead me to 
 .speaking of spiritual affairs, and this, as I have else 
 where said, I never do willingly, nor with comfort to 
 myself. 
 
 One afternoon in September of this year I was 
 balancing an account when my father came in and 
 told me that Mason, our clerk, had just had a fall in 
 the hold of one of our ships. The day after I saw 
 him, and although his hurts were painful they hardly 
 seemed to justify my father in his desire that now 
 at last he should take a long rest from work. 
 
 This threw all the detail of our affairs as largely 
 into my hands as was possible with a man like my 
 father. I think he guessed my intention to leave 
 him for the army, and gladly improved this chance 
 to load me with needless affairs, and all manner of 
 small perplexities. My aunt w r as better in fact, 
 well ; but here was this new trouble. What could I 
 do? My father declared that the old clerk would 
 
248 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 soon be able to resume his place, and meanwhile, 
 he should have no one to help him but me. Now 
 and then, to my surprise, he made some absurd busi 
 ness venture, and was impatient if I said a word of 
 remonstrance. Twice I was sent to Maryland to see 
 after our tobacco plantations. I was in despair, and 
 became depressed and querulous, seeing no present 
 way, nor any future likelihood, of escape. My father 
 was well pleased, and even my aunt seemed to me 
 too well satisfied with the ill turn which fate had 
 done me. My father was clearly using the poor old 
 clerk s calamity as an excuse to keep me busy j nor 
 was it at all like him to employ such subterfuges. 
 All his life long he had been direct, positive, and 
 dictatorial ; a few years back he would have ordered 
 me to give up all idea of the army, and would as like 
 as not have punished resistance with cold-blooded 
 disinheritance. He was visibly and but too clearly 
 changing from the resolute, uncompromising man 
 he had once been. Was he cunning enough to know 
 that his weakness was for me a bondage far stronger 
 than his more vigorous rule had ever been ? 
 
XV 
 
 Y personal difficulties were not made more 
 easy to bear by the course of public 
 events. Howe had taken New York. 
 In November Fort Washington fell. 
 Jack, who was within its walls, got 
 away, but was slightly wounded. Our English gen 
 eral, Lee, had begun already to intrigue against 
 Mr. Washington, writing, as Dr. Rush confided to my 
 aunt, that he, Lee, ought to be made dictator. My 
 aunt received the impression that the doctor, who 
 loved his country well, was becoming discontented 
 with our chief ; but neither then nor later did she 
 change her own opinion of the reserved and cour 
 teous Virginian. 
 
 He soon justified her views of his capacity. On 
 December 1 he broke down the bridges in his rear 
 over the Raritan, and marched through Jersey with 
 a dwindling army. At Princeton he had but three 
 thousand men ; destroying every boat, he wisely put 
 the broad Delaware between his army and the enemy. 
 Lord Cornwallis halted at the river, waiting for it 
 to freeze that he might cross, and until this should 
 happen went back with Howe to New York. About 
 December 15 of 76, General Lee was captured, and, 
 
 249 
 
250 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 strange as it may now seem, no calamity yet come 
 upon us created more consternation. Meanwhile 
 our own alarmed citizens began to bury their silver 
 plate. While the feeble were flying, and the doubtful 
 were ready to renew their oath to the king, the wary 
 and resolute commander-in-chief saw his chance. 
 
 To aid his courageous resolve came Sullivan and 
 Gates from Lee s late command. " At sunset on 
 Christmas day we crossed the Delaware/ writes Jack. 
 " My general was in a small boat, with Knox, and 
 two boatmen. We were ten hours in the ice, and 
 marched nine miles, after crossing, in a blinding storm 
 of sleet. By God s grace we took one thousand of 
 those blackguard Hessians, and, but for Cadwalader s 
 ill luck with the ice, would have got Doiiop also. I 
 had a finger froze, but no worse accident. 
 
 " I dare say you know we fell back beyond Assun- 
 pink Creek, below Trenton. There we fought my 
 lord marquis again with good fortune. Meanwhile 
 he weakened his force at Princeton, and, I fancy, 
 thought we were in a trap ; but our general left fires 
 burning, passed round the enemy s left, and, as we 
 came near Princeton at sunrise, fell upon Colonel 
 Mawhood on his way to join Cornwallis. I was close 
 to General Mercer when we saw them, and had as 
 usual a fit of the shakes, hang them ! Luckily there 
 was small leisure to think. 
 
 "In the first onset, which was fierce, our brave 
 general was mortally wounded ; and then, his Excel 
 lency coming up, we routed them finely. So away 
 went Cornwallis, with the trapped hot after the trap- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 251 
 
 pers. We have the Jerseys and two thousand pris 
 oners. I do not think even Miss Wynne can imagine 
 what courage it took for our general to turn as he 
 did on an army like that of Cornwallis . Are you 
 never coming ? 
 
 " It is sad that the Southern officers look upon us 
 and those of New England as tradesfolk, and this 
 makes constant trouble, especially among the militia, 
 who come and go much as they please. I have had 
 no personal difficulty, but there have been several 
 duels, of which little is said. 
 
 "It is to be hoped that Congress will now order 
 all enlistments to be for the war, else we shall soon be 
 in a mortal bad way. Hast heard of Miss Peniston ? " 
 
 This letter came soon after the smart little winter 
 campaign in Jersey had made us all so happy. 
 
 " It will last a good while yet," said James Wilson. 
 " And when are you going, Hugh ? " Indeed, I began 
 at last to see a way opened, as we of Friends say ; 
 for now, in the spring, our old clerk hobbled back to 
 his desk, and I knew that my father would no longer 
 be left without friendly and familiar help. But be 
 fore he could assume his full duties August was upon 
 us August of 77, a year for me most eventful. 
 Darthea s letters to my aunt grew less and less fre 
 quent, and, as I thought, had an air of sadness un 
 usual in this gladsome creature. Once she spoke of 
 Captain Wynne as absent, and once that he, like Jack, 
 had had a slight wound in the storm of Fort Wash 
 ington. Of politics she could say nothing, as her 
 letters had usually to pass our lines. 
 
252 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 On July 31 Washington knew that Howe s fleet 
 was off the Delaware capes. Meanwhile he had 
 crossed that river into Pennsylvania, and hurried his 
 army across country, finally encamping on a Satur 
 day at Nicetown, some five miles from Philadelphia. 
 I rode out that evening to meet Jack, whose troop 
 camped even nearer to town, and close to the tents 
 of the headquarters staff. The general lay for this 
 night at Stenton, where our Quaker friends, the 
 Logans, lived. He was shown, I was told, the secret 
 stairway and the underground passage to the stable 
 and beyond, and was disposed to think it curious. 
 
 Jack, now a captain, in a new suit of blue and buff, 
 looked brown and hardy, and his figure had spread, 
 but the locks were as yellow and the cheeks as rosy 
 as ever I knew them. 
 
 Dear Aunt Gainor made much of him that evening, 
 and we talked late into the night of battles and 
 generals and what had gone with Lord Howe. I 
 went to bed discontented, feeling myself to be a very 
 inconsiderable person, and Jack rode away to camp. 
 The next day being Sunday, the 24th of August, 
 his Excellency marched into town by Front street at 
 the head of the flower of his army, in all about eleven 
 thousand. Fine men they were, but many half clad 
 and ill shod ; fairly drilled too, but not as they were 
 later in the war. The town was wild with delight, 
 and every one glad save the Tories and the Quakers, 
 many of whom remained all day in their houses. 
 
 This march being made only to exhibit the army 
 to friend and foe, the troops moved out High street 
 
HUGH WYNNE 253 
 
 and by the middle ferry across the Schuylkill, on 
 their way toward the Delaware to meet Mr. Howe, 
 who, having landed at the head of Elk River, was 
 now on his way toward Philadelphia. His troops 
 were slow, the roads bad and few, the ague in great 
 force and severe or so we heard. I rode sadly with 
 onr people as far as Darby, and then turned home 
 ward a vexed and dispirited man. It was, I think, 
 on the 4th of August that our general, who had rid 
 den on in advance of his army, first met Marquis 
 Lafayette. 
 
 My aunt, who spoke French with remarkable flu 
 ency and a calm disregard of accent and inflections, 
 was well pleased to entertain the French gentleman, 
 and at her house I had the happiness to make his 
 acquaintance, greatly, as it proved, to my future ad 
 vantage. He was glad to find any who spoke his 
 own tongue well, and discussed our affairs with me, 
 horrified at the lack of decent uniforms and discipline, 
 but, like me, pleased with the tall, strong men he saw 
 in our ranks. Later my acquaintance with French 
 was of much use to me ; so little can a man tell what 
 value an accomplishment will have for him. 
 
 The marquis was very young, and somewhat free 
 in stating his opinions. At this time he thought 
 Mr. Howe intended Charleston, and, like others, was 
 amazed at his folly in not going up the Delaware 
 Bay to land his troops. His strange strategy left 
 Burgoyne to the fate in store for him at Saratoga, 
 where the latter general was to act a first part in a 
 tragic drama much finer than those he wrote, which 
 
254 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 were so greatly praised by the fine ladies in London, 
 and indeed by some better critics. 
 
 A letter of Jack s came to hand during this week. 
 In it he said my aunt must leave, as he was sure we 
 had not force enough to keep General Howe out 
 of Philadelphia. But the old lady said, " Not I, in 
 deed ! " and I think no mortal power could have in 
 duced her to go away. She even declined to bury 
 her silver, as many had done. Not so the rest of 
 the Whigs. Every one fled who knew where to go, 
 or who feared to be called to account; and none 
 weuld hear of defending the town, as should have 
 been attempted. 
 
 Jack s letter went on to say that in Delaware the 
 general had a narrow escape. " He rode out," says 
 Jack, " with Marquis Lafayette on a reconnaissance, 
 attended by but two officers and an orderly. General 
 Sullivan had an officer follow with a half -troop j but 
 the general, fearing such numbers might attract 
 attention, ordered them to wait behind a thicket. 
 Looking thence, they saw the general ride direct 
 toward a picket of the enemy, which from their 
 vantage they could see, but he could not. An Eng 
 lish officer, perceiving him, seemed to give an order 
 to fire ; but as the men raised their pieces he struck 
 them up. As he was about to give the order to fire, 
 the general, being satisfied, had turned his back to 
 ride away. It is a curious tale, is it not ? and none 
 can explain it." 
 
 Long years after I myself met an English officer, 
 a General Henderson, in Canada, and on my telling 
 
HUGH WYNNE 255 
 
 him the incident, he said at once it was he who was 
 concerned, and that when the general turned to ride 
 away he could not make up his mind to shoot down 
 a man who had turned his back. He was amazed 
 and pleased to know who it was he thus spared. 
 
 On the llth of September, at evening, came the 
 disaster of Brandy wine, and on the 26th Lord Corn-, 
 wallis marched into our city, with two batteries and 
 the Sixteenth Dragoons and Grenadiers. They were 
 received quietly, and that evening my Cousin Arthur 
 appeared at our house. My father, who had been 
 very inert of late, seemed to arouse himself, and ex 
 pressed quite forcibly his joy and relief at the coming 
 of the troops. He recounted his griefs, too : how 
 that, refusing the militia tax, the Committee of Safety 
 had taken away his great tankard, and later two 
 tables, which was true enough. Then, to my amaze 
 ment, my father declared Arthur must stay with us, 
 which he was nothing loath to do. 
 
 I was cool, as you may suppose, but it was difficult 
 for man or woman to resist Arthur Wynne when 
 he meant to be pleasant ; and so, putting my dislike 
 aside, I found myself chatting with him about the 
 Avar and what not. In fact, he was a guest, and what 
 else could I do ? 
 
 My aunt kept herself indoors and would none of 
 the Galloways and Aliens, who had come back in 
 swarms, nor even the neutrals, like Mr. Penn, whom 
 she much liked. The day after the town was occu 
 pied, Captain Wynne appeared early in the morning, 
 as we were discussing a matter of business. He 
 
256 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 took it for granted, I presume, that my aunt would 
 see him, and went past the turbaned black boy 
 despite his small remonstrances. My aunt rose to 
 the full of her great height, her nose in the air, and 
 letting fall a lapful of papers. 
 
 " To what," she said, " have I the honour to owe 
 a visit from Mr. Wynne ? Is my house an inn, that 
 any officer of the king may enter whether I will or 
 not?" 
 
 Although he must have been surprised, he was 
 perfectly at his ease. Indeed, I envied him his self- 
 possession. 
 
 "Madam," he said, "I am charged with a letter 
 from Miss Peniston." 
 
 "You may put it on the table," says Mistress 
 Wynne. "My brother may choose his society. I 
 ask the same privilege. It will not consist of gentle 
 men of your profession." 
 
 Mr. Wynne s face grew black under its dark skin. 
 " Madam," he said, " I stay nowhere as an unwelcome 
 guest. I thank you for past kindness, and I humbly 
 take my leave. I could have done you a service as 
 to this business of the quartering of officers, and you 
 shall still have my good offices for the sake of the 
 many pleasant hours I have passed in your house. 
 As my Cousin Hugh says nothing, I am glad to think 
 that he is of a different opinion from that which you 
 have put in words so agreeably." With this he went 
 away, leaving my aunt red in the face, and speechless 
 with wrath. 
 
 I thought he had the best of it j but I merely said, 
 
HUGH WYNNE 257 
 
 u My dear aunt, you should not have been so hard 
 with him." I did, indeed, think it both unwise and 
 needless. 
 
 " Stuff and nonsense ! n says Miss Wynne, walking 
 about as my father used to do. "I do not trust him, 
 and he has got that girl in his toils, poor child ! I 
 wonder w r hat lies he has told her. How does he hold 
 her! I did think that was past any man s power; 
 and she is unhappy too. When a woman like Dar- 
 thea begins to find a man out, she can t help showing 
 it, and some are more frank on paper than in talk j 
 that is her way. I am afraid I made mischief once, 
 for I told him long ago that I meant her to marry 
 you ; and then I saw he did not like it, and I knew 
 I had been a goose. Whatever is the reason he hates 
 you, Hugh? Oh yes, he does he does. Is it the 
 woman! I will have no redcoats in my house." 
 
 I got a chance to say what I was sorry to have 
 to say how little need there was for him to fear 
 poor me, whom Darthea wished to have nothing to 
 do with, I thought. 
 
 "Her loves are like her moods, my dear Hugh; 
 who knowshow long they will last ? Until a woman 
 is married she is not to be despaired of." 
 
 I shook mj head sadly and went out. 
 
 I returned late in the evening, to order my horse 
 to be saddled and sent to me before breakfast next 
 morning ; for I kept it at no cost in my aunt s ample 
 stable. To my horror, I found a sentinel at the door, 
 and the hall full of army baggage. In the parlour 
 was a tall Hessian, General von Kiiyphausen, and 
 
 17 
 
258 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Count Donop and others, smoking, much at their ease. 
 They were fairly civil, but did not concern themselves 
 greatly if I liked it or not. I found my aunt in bed, 
 in a fever of vain anger. 
 
 She had the bed-curtains drawn, and when I was 
 bid to enter, put aside the chintz so as to make room 
 for her head, which appeared in a tall nightcap. I 
 am unfit, I fear, to describe this gear ; but it brought 
 out all her large features very strongly, and to have 
 seen her would have terrified a Hessian regiment. 
 
 " My house is full of Dutch dogs/ she cried. " As 
 soon as they came they ordered bones." In fact, they 
 had asked quite civilly if they might have supper. 
 
 " I saw them at their feed," says my aunt, " and 
 the big beast, General Knyphausen, spread my best 
 butter on his bread with his thumb, sir his thumb ! 
 Count Donop is better; but Von Heiser! and the 
 pipes ! heavens ! " Here she retreated within her 
 curtains, and I heard her say, " Bessy Ferguson saw 
 them come in, and must sail across the street and tell 
 Job the page with the turban to congratulate me 
 for her, and to advise me to get a keg of sauerkraut." 
 
 I assured my aunt that fortunately these were gen 
 tlemen, but she was inconsolable, declaring herself 
 ill, and that Dr. Rush must come at once. 
 
 " But," I said, " he is gone with all the Congress 
 to York." 
 
 " Then I shall die," moaned my aunt. 
 
 At last, knowing her well, I said, "Is it not too 
 sad?" 
 
 "What s that? What?" 
 
HUGH WYNNE 259 
 
 "Mr. Howe has taken Mrs. Pemberton s carriage 
 and the pair of sorrels for his own use." 
 
 At this my Aimt Gainor s large face reappeared, 
 not as melancholic as before, and I added, " Friend 
 Wain has six to care for, and Thomas Scattergood 
 has the Hessian chaplain and a drunken major. The 
 rest of Friends are no better off." 
 
 " Thank the Lord for all His mercies ! " said Miss 
 Wynne. 
 
 " And Mr. Cadwalader s house on Little Dock street 
 Sir William has." 
 
 " A pity that, Hngh. The fine furniture will pay 
 for it, I fear. I think, Hugh, I am better, or I shall 
 be soon." 
 
 " They talk of the Meeting over the way for a bar 
 rack, Aunt Gain or." Now this was idly rumoured, 
 but how could one resist to feed an occasion so 
 comic ? 
 
 " I think I should die contented," said Miss Wynne. 
 " Now go away, Hugh. I have had my medicine, and 
 I like it." She was quick at self-analysis, and was 
 laughing low, really happier for the miseries of her 
 Tory acquaintances. 
 
 After the bedroom comedy, which much amused 
 me and out of which my aunt got great comfort, she 
 was inclined to be on better terms with the officers 
 so abruptly thrust upon her. For a while, however, 
 she declined to eat her meals with them, and when 
 told that they had had Colonel Montresor to dine, and 
 had drunk the king s health, she sent all the glasses 
 they had used down to the blacks in the kitchen, 
 
260 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 and bade them never to dare set them on her table 
 again. This much delighted Count Donop, who 
 loved George of Hanover no better than did she, and 
 I learned that she declared the bread-and-butter busi 
 ness was the worst of Von Knyphausen, and was 
 no doubt a court custom. As to Count Donop, she 
 learned to like him. He spoke queer French, and 
 did not smoke. " Je nefoume pas chamais, madame" 
 he said; "metis le Cheneral, ilfoume touchours, et Von 
 Reiser le meme" which was true. The count knew 
 her London friends, and grieved that he was sent on 
 a service he did not relish, and in which later he was 
 to lose his life. 
 
 My aunt fed them well, and won at piquet, and 
 declared they were much to be pitied, although Von 
 Heiser was a horror. When he had knocked down 
 her red-and-gold Delft vase, the gods and the other 
 china were put away, and then the rugs, because of 
 the holes his pipe ashes burned, and still she vowed 
 it was a comfort they were not redcoats. Them she 
 would have poisoned. 
 
 Captain Andre alone was an exception. When, in 
 1776, he was made a prisoner by Montgomery in 
 Canada, and after that was on parole at Lancaster, I 
 met him j and as he much attracted me, my aunt sent 
 him money, and I was able to ease his captivity by 
 making him known to our friends, Mr. Justice Yeates 
 and the good Cope people, who, being sound Tories, 
 did him such good turns as he never forgot, and 
 kindly credited to us. Indeed, he made for my aunt 
 some pretty sketches of the fall woods, and, as I 
 
HUGH WYNNE 261 
 
 have said, was welcome where no other redcoat could 
 enter. 
 
 My aunt was soon easier in mind, but my own 
 condition was not to be envied. Here was Arthur 
 Wynne at my father s, the Hessians at my aunt s, the 
 Tories happy, seven or eight thousand folks gone 
 away, every inn and house full, and on the street 
 crowds of unmannerly officers. It was not easy to 
 avoid quarrels. Already the Hessian soldiers began 
 to steal all manner of eatables from the farms this 
 side of Schuylkill. More to my own inconvenience, 
 I found that Major von Heiser had taken the priv 
 ilege of riding my mare Lucy so hard that she was 
 unfit to use for two days. At last my aunt s chicken- 
 coops suffered, and the voice of her pet rooster was 
 no more heard in the land. I did hear that, as this 
 raid of some privates interfered with the Dutch gen 
 eral s diet, one of the offenders got the strappado. 
 But no one could stop these fellows, and they were 
 so bold as to enter houses and steal what they wanted, 
 until severe measures were taken by Mr. Howe. They 
 robbed my father boldly, before his eyes, of two fat 
 Virginia peach-fed hams, and all his special tobacco. 
 He stood by, and said they ought not to do it. This, 
 as they knew no tongue but their own, and as he 
 acted up to his honest belief in the righteousness of 
 non-resistance, and uttered no complaint, only served 
 to bring them again. But this time I was at home, 
 and nearly killed a corporal with the Quaker staff 
 Thomas Scattergood gave my father. The adven 
 ture seemed to compensate Miss Wynne for her own 
 
262 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 losses. The corporal made a lying complaint, and 
 but for Mr. Andre I should have been put to serious 
 annoyance. Our boys used to say that the Hessian 
 drum-beat said, " Plunder, plunder, plun, plun, plun 
 der. 7 And so for the sad remnant of Whig gentles 
 the town was made in all ways unbearable. 
 
 There are times when the life sands seem to run 
 slowly, and others when they flow swiftly, as dur 
 ing this bewildering week. All manner of things 
 happened, mostly perplexing or sad, and none quite 
 agreeable. On the 28th, coming in about nine at 
 night, I saw that there were persons in the great 
 front sitting-room, which overlooked Dock Creek. 
 As I came into the light which fell through the open 
 doorway, I stood unnoticed. The room was full of 
 pipe smoke, and rum and Hollands were on the table, 
 as was common in the days when Friends Meeting 
 made a minute that Friends be vigilant to see that 
 those who work in the harvest-fields have portions of 
 rum. My father and my cousin sat on one side, op 
 posite a short, stout man almost as swarthy as Ar 
 thur, and with very small piercing eyes, so dark as 
 to seem black, which eyes never are. 
 
 I heard this gentleman say, " Wynne, I hear that 
 your brother is worse. These elder brothers are un 
 natural animals, and vastly tenacious of life." On 
 this I noticed my cousin frown at him and slightly 
 shake his head. The officer did not take the hint, 
 if it were one, but added, smiling, " He will live to 
 bury you; unfeeling brutes these elder brothers. 
 Damn em ! " 
 
HUGH WYNNE 263 
 
 I was shocked to notice how inertly my father 
 listened to the oath, and I recalled, with a sudden 
 sense of distress, what my aunt had said of my 
 father s state of mind. The young are accustomed 
 to take for granted the permanency of health in their 
 elders, and to look upon them as unchanging insti 
 tutions, until, in some sad way, reminded of the frailty 
 of all living things. 
 
 As I went in, Arthur rose, looked sharply at me, 
 and said, "Let me present my cousin, Mr. Hugh 
 Wynne, Colonel Tarleton." 
 
 I bowed to the officer, who lacked the politeness 
 to rise, merely saying, "Pleased to see you, Mr. 
 Wynne." 
 
 " We were talking," said Arthur, " when you came 
 of the fight at the river with the queer name Bran 
 dy wine, is n t it ? " 
 
 " No/ 7 said my father ; " thou art mistaken, and I 
 wished to ask thee, Arthur, what was it thou wert 
 saying. We had ceased to speak of the war. Yes j 
 it was of thy brother." 
 
 " What of thy brother ?" said I, glad of this opening. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, except Colonel Tarleton had news 
 he was not so well." He was so shrewd as to think 
 I must have overheard enough to make it useless to 
 lie to me. A lie, he used to say, was a reserve not 
 to be called into service except when all else failed. 
 
 "Oh, was that all I" I returned. "I did hear, 
 Cousin Arthur, that the Wyncote estate was growing 
 to be valuable again ; some coal or iron had been 
 found." 
 
264 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " So my mother writes me/ said Tarleton. " We 
 are old friends of your family." 
 
 "You know/ I said, "we are the elder branch." 
 I was bent on discovering, if possible, the cause of my 
 cousin s annoyance whenever Wyncote was mentioned. 
 
 " I wish it were true about our getting rich/ said 
 Arthur, with the relaxed look about the jaw I had 
 come to know so well j it came as he began to speak. 
 "If it were anything but idle gossip, Tarleton, 
 what would it profit a poor devil of a younger son ? 
 They did find coal, but it came to nothing ; and in 
 deed I learn they lost money in the end." 
 
 " I have so heard," said my father, in a dull way. 
 " Who was it told me u ? I forget. They lost money." 
 
 I looked at him amazed. Who could have told him 
 but Arthur, and why ? Until a year back his mem 
 ory had been unfailing. 
 
 I saw a queer look, part surprise, part puzzle, go 
 over Tarleton s face, a slight frown above, as slight 
 a smile below. I fancy he meant to twit my cousin, 
 for he said to me : 
 
 "And so you are of the elder branch, Mr. Hugh 
 Wynne. How is that, Arthur ? How did the elder 
 branch chance to lose that noble old house ? " 
 
 My cousin sat rapping with his fingers on the table 
 what they used to call the " devil s tattoo," regarding 
 me with steady, half -shut eyes a too frequent and 
 not well-mannered way he had, and one I much dis 
 liked. He said nothing, nor had he a chance, for I 
 instantly answered the colonel : " My father can tell 
 you." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 265 
 
 "About what, Hugh?" 
 
 " About how we lost our Welsh estate." 
 
 My father at this lifted his great bulk upright in 
 the old Penn chair, and seemed more alive. 
 
 " It is Colonel Tarleton who asks, not I." 
 
 " It is an old story." He spoke quite like himself. 
 "Our cousin must know it well. My father suf 
 fered for conscience sake, and, being a Friend, 
 would pay no tithes. For this he was cast into jail 
 in Shrewsbury Gate House, and lay there a year, 
 suffering much in body, but at peace, it may surely 
 be thought, as to his soul. At last he was set free 
 on condition that he should leave the country." 
 
 "And the estate!" asked Tarleton. 
 
 " He thought little of that. It was heavily charged 
 with debt made by his father s wild ways. I believe, 
 too, there was some agreement with the officers of 
 the crown that he should make over the property to 
 his next brother, who had none of his scruples. This 
 was in 1670, or thereabouts. A legal transfer was 
 made to my uncle, who, I think, loved my father, 
 and understood that, being set in his ways, he would 
 defy the king s authority to the end. And so 
 wisely I think the overruling providence of God 
 brought us to a new land, where we have greatly 
 prospered." 
 
 "And that is all!" said the colonel. "What a 
 strange story ! And so you are Wynne of Wyncote, 
 and lost it." 
 
 " For a greater gain," said my father. " My son 
 has a silly fancy for the old place, but it is lost lost 
 
266 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 sold; and if we could have it at a word, it would 
 grieve me to see him cast in his lot among a set of 
 drunken, dicing, hard-riding squires a godless set. 
 It will never be if I can help it. My son has left the 
 creed of his father and of mine, and I am glad that 
 his worldly pride cannot be further tempted. Dost 
 thou hear, Hugh ? " 
 
 There was a moment of awkward silence. My 
 father had spoken with violence, once or twice strik 
 ing the table with his fist until the glasses rang. 
 There was something of his old vehemence in his 
 statement ; but as a rule, however abrupt when we 
 were alone, before strangers he was as civil to me as 
 to others. My cousin, I thought, looked relieved as 
 my father went on; and, ceasing to drum on the 
 table, he quietly filled himself a glass of Hollands. 
 
 I was puzzled. What interest had Arthur to lie 
 about the value of Wyncote if it was irretrievably 
 lost to us ! As my father ended, he glanced at me 
 with more or less of his old keenness of look, smiling 
 a little as he regarded me. The pause which came 
 after was brief, as I have said ; for my reflections, 
 such as they were, passed swiftly through my mind, 
 and were as complete as was under the circumstances 
 possible. 
 
 "I am sorry for you/ 7 said Tarleton. "An old 
 name is much, but one likes to have with it all the 
 memories that go with its ancient home." 
 
 " That is true," said I ; " and, if my father will 
 pardon me, I like still to say that I would have 
 Wyncote to-day if I could." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 267 
 
 " Thou canst not," said my father. " And what we 
 cannot have what God has willed that we shall not 
 have it were wise and well to forget. It is my affair, 
 and none of thine. Wilt thou taste some of my newly 
 come Madeira, Friend Tarleton ? " 
 
 The colonel said "No/ 7 and shortly after left us, 
 my cousin going with him. 
 
 My father sat still for a while, and then said as 
 I rose, "I trust to hear no more of this nonsense. 
 Thy aunt and thy mother have put it in thy foolish 
 head. I will have no more of it no more. Dost 
 thou hear ? " 
 
 I said I would try to satisfy him, and so the thing- 
 came to an end. 
 
 The day after this singular talk, which so much 
 puzzled me, Arthur said at breakfast that he should 
 be pleased to go with me on the river for white perch. 
 I hesitated ; but, my father saying, " Certainly ; he 
 shall go with thee. I do not need him," I returned 
 that I would be ready at eleven. 
 
 We pulled over toward Petty s Island, and when 
 half-way my cousin, who was steering, and had been 
 very silent for him, said : 
 
 " Let her drift a bit ; I want to talk to you." 
 
 I sat still and listened. 
 
 "Why do not you join our army? A commission 
 were easily had." 
 
 I replied that he knew my sentiments well, and 
 that his question was absurd. 
 
 " No," he said ; " I am your friend, although you 
 do not think so. By George ! were I you, I would 
 
268 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 be on one side or the other. I like my friends to do 
 what is manly and decisive." " Holloa ! n thinks I ; 
 " has Darthea been talking ? And why does he, an 
 officer of the king, want me to go ? " 
 
 " I shall go some day," I replied, " but when, I know 
 not yet. It seems to me queer counsel to give a good 
 rebel. When does Miss Peniston return ? " I said. 
 
 " What the deuce has that got to do with it ? Yes, 
 she is coming back, of course, and soon ; but why do 
 not you join your army?" 
 
 "Let us drop that," I said. "There are many 
 reasons ; I prefer not to discuss the matter." 
 
 " Very good," he said ; " and, Hugh, you heard a 
 heap of nonsense last night about Wyncote. Tarle- 
 ton had too much of your father s rum-punch. Your 
 people were lucky to lose the old place, and how these 
 tales of our being rich arose I cannot imagine. Come 
 and see us some day, and you will 110 longer envy the 
 lot of beggared Welsh squires." 
 
 All of this only helped the more to make me dis 
 believe him ; but the key to his lies I had not, and so 
 I merely said it would be many a day before that 
 could happen. 
 
 " Perhaps," he returned ; " but who knows ? The 
 war will soon be over." 
 
 "When will Miss Peniston be in town?" said I. 
 
 He was not sure ; but said I put it in his mind to 
 say something. 
 
 " Well ? " said I, on my guard. 
 
 He went on : " I am a frank man, Cousin Hugh." 
 
 At times he was, and strangely so j then the next 
 
HUGH WYNNE 209 
 
 minute he would be indirect or lie to you. The mix 
 ture made it hard to understand what he was after. 
 
 "I trust/ he went on, "that you will pardon me 
 if I say that in England custom does not sanction 
 certain freedoms which in the colonies seem to be 
 regarded as of no moment. I am not of this opinion. 
 Miss Peniston is, I hope, to be my wife. She is 
 young, impulsive, and well, no matter. Some men 
 take these things coolly; I do not. I am sure you 
 will have the good sense to agree with me. When 
 a woman is pledged to a man, it is fit that she should 
 be most guarded in her relations with other men. 
 I-" 
 
 Here I broke in, "What on earth does all this 
 mean?" 
 
 " I will tell you. Your aunt writes now and then 
 to Miss Peniston." 
 
 " Certainly," said I. 
 
 "Yes; she says, too, things concerning you and 
 that lady which are not to my taste." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 " I have been so honoured as to see some of these 
 famous epistles. I think Darthea is pleased to tor 
 ment me at times ; it is her way, as you may happen 
 to know. Also, and this is more serious, you have 
 yourself written to Darthea." 
 
 "I have, and several times. Why not?" 
 
 " These letters," he went on, " she has refused to 
 show to me. Now I want to say and you will par 
 don me that I permit no man to write to a woman 
 whom I am to marry unless I do not object." 
 
270 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "Well?" I said, beginning to smile, after my 
 unmanageable habit. 
 
 " Here I do object." 
 
 " What if I say that, so long as Miss Peniston does 
 not seem displeased, I care not one farthing who 
 objects?" 
 
 " By George ! " cried he, leaping up in the boat. 
 
 " Take care ; thou wilt upset the skiff." 
 
 " I have half a mind to." 
 
 " Nonsense ! I can swim like a duck." 
 
 " This is no trifle, sir," he returned. " I will allow 
 no man to take the liberty you insist on. It amazes 
 me that you do not see this as I do. I am sorry, but 
 I warn you once for all that I" 
 
 " I am at your service, sir," I broke in. 
 
 " Pshaw ! nonsense ! I am a guest in your father s 
 house. I have thought it my duty, for your sake and 
 my own, to say what I have said. When I know 
 that you have again disobeyed my reasonable and 
 most earnest wish, I shall consider how to deal with 
 the matter. I have been forbearing so far, but I 
 cannot answer for the future." 
 
 " Cousin Arthur," I replied, " this seems to me a 
 silly business, in which we have both lost our tem 
 pers. I have no hope that Miss Peniston will ever 
 change her mind, and I am free to say to you that I 
 think it useless to persist j but nevertheless" 
 
 "Persist!" 
 
 " I said persist. 7 Until Miss Peniston is no longer 
 Miss Peniston, I shall not cease to do all that is in 
 my power to make her change her mind." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 271 
 
 "And you call that honourable the conduct of a 
 gentleman and a kinsman f " 
 
 "Yes; I, too, can be frank. I would rather see 
 her marry any other man than yourself. You have 
 sought to injure me, why I shall tell you at my own 
 time. I think you have been deceiving all of us as 
 to certain matters. Oh, wait ! I must have my say. 
 If you were what I do not think you a straight 
 forward, truthful man, I should think it well, and 
 leave Miss Peniston to what seems to be her choice. 
 You have been frank, and so am I, and now we un 
 derstand each other, and no; I heard you to an 
 end, and I must insist that I too be heard. I am not 
 sorry to have had this talk. If I did not care for her 
 who has promised you her hand, I should be careless 
 as to what you are, or whether you have been an 
 enemy in my home while pretending to be a friend. 
 As it is, I love her too well not to do all I can to 
 make her see you as I see you ; and this, although 
 for me there is no least hope of ever having a place 
 in her heart. I am her friend, and shall be, and, until 
 she forbids, shall claim every privilege which, with 
 our simpler manners, the name of friend carries with 
 it. I trust I am plain." 
 
 " Plain ? By heavens ! yes. I have borne much, 
 but now I have only to add that I never yet forgave 
 an insult. You would be wiser to have a care. A 
 man who never yet forgave has warned you. What 
 I want I get ; and what I get I keep." 
 
 " I think," I said, " that we will go ashore." 
 
 " With all my heart." And in absolute silence I 
 
272 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 pulled back. At tlie slip lie left me without a word, 
 and I secured the boat and walked away, having 
 found ample subject for reflection. Nor was I alto 
 gether discontented at my cousin s evident jealousy. 
 
 The afternoon of this memorable day I rode out 
 on poor Lucy, whom I had put for safety in our home 
 stables. I went out High to Seventh street, and up 
 to Eace street road, where there was better footing, 
 as it had been kept in order for the sport which made 
 us call it Eace street, and not Sassafras, which is its 
 real name. I was brought to a stand about Twelfth 
 street, then only an ox-path, by the bayonet of a gren 
 adier, the camps lying about this point. I turned to 
 ride back, when I heard a voice I knew crying : 
 
 " Holloa, Mr. Wynne! Are you stopped, and 
 why? 7 
 
 I said I knew no reason, but would go south. I 
 was out for a ride, and had no special errand. 
 
 " Come with me then," he said pleasantly. " I am 
 now the engineer in charge of the defences." This 
 was my Aunt Gainor s old beau, Captain Montresor, 
 now a colonel. 
 
 "I am sorry your aunt will see none of us, 
 Mr. Wynne. If agreeable to you, we will ride 
 through the lines." 
 
 I asked nothing better, and explaining, awkwardly 
 I fear, that my aunt was a red-hot Whig, we rode 
 south to Spruce street, past the Bettering-house at 
 Spruce and Eleventh streets, where the troops which 
 had entered with Lord Cornwallis were mostly sta 
 tioned. The main army lay at Germantown, with de- 
 
HUGH WYNNE 273 
 
 tachments below the city, on the east and west banks 
 of the Schuylkill, to watch our forts at Red Bank and 
 the islands which commanded the Delaware River 
 and kept the British commander from drawing sup 
 plies from the great fleet which lay helpless below. 
 
 As we went by, the Grenadiers were drilling on 
 the open space before the poorhouse. I expressed 
 my admiration of their pointed caps, red, with silver 
 front plates, their spotless white leggings and blue- 
 trimmed scarlet coats. 
 
 " Too much finery, Mr. Wynne. These are a king s 
 puppets, dressed to please the whim of royalty. If 
 all kings took the field, we should have less of this. 
 Those miserable devils of Mr. Morgan s fought as 
 well in their dirty skin shirts, and can kill a man at 
 murderous distance with their long rifles and little 
 bullets. It is like gambling with a beggar. He 
 has all to get, and nothing to lose but a life too 
 wretched to make it worth keeping." 
 
 I made no serious reply, and we rode westward 
 through the governor s woods to the river. As we 
 turned into an open space to escape a deep mud-hole, 
 Mr. Montresor said : 
 
 " It was here, I think, you and Mr. Warder made 
 yourselves agreeable to two of our people." I laughed, 
 and said it was a silly business and quite needless. 
 
 " That, I believe," he cried, laughing, " was their 
 opinion somewhat late. They were the jest of every 
 regimental mess for a month, and we were inclined 
 to think Mr. Washington had better raise a few 
 regiments of Quakers. Are you all as dangerous ? " 
 
 18 
 
274 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " Oh, worse, worse/ I said. " Jack Warder and I 
 are only half -fledged specimens. You should see the 
 old fellows." Thus jesting, we rode as we were able 
 until we reached the banks of the Schuylkill, pick 
 eted on both shores, but on the west side not below 
 the lower ferry, where already my companion was 
 laying a floating bridge which greatly interested 
 me. 
 
 "We have a post on the far hill," he said, "I am 
 afraid to Mr. Hamilton s annoyance. Let us follow 
 the river." 
 
 I was able to guide him along an ox-road, and past 
 garden patches across High street, to the upper ferry 
 at Callowhill street. Here he pointed out to me the 
 advantage of a line of nine forts which he was already 
 building. There was to be one on the hill we call 
 Pairmount to command the upper ferry. Others 
 were to be set along to the north of Callowhill street 
 road at intervals to Cohocsink Creek and the Dela 
 ware. 
 
 The great trees I loved were falling fast under the 
 axes of the pioneers, whom I thought very awkward 
 at the business. Farm-houses were being torn down, 
 and orchards and hedges levelled, while the unhappy 
 owners looked on in mute despair, aiding one an 
 other to remove their furniture. The object was to 
 leave a broad space to north of the forts, that an 
 attacking force might find no shelter. About an 
 hundred feet from the blockhouses was to be an 
 abatis of sharpened logs, and a mass of brush and 
 trees, through which to move would be difficult. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 275 
 
 I took it all in, and greedily. The colonel no doubt 
 thought me an intelligent young fellow, and was kind 
 enough to answer all my questions. He may later 
 have repented his freedom of speech. And now I 
 saw the reason for all this piteous ruin. Compensa 
 tion was promised and given, I heard, but it seemed 
 to me hard to be thus in a day thrust out of homes 
 no doubt dear to these simple folk. We went past 
 gardens and fields, over broken fences, all in the 
 way of destruction. Tape-lines pegged to the earth 
 guided the engineers, and hundreds of negroes were 
 here at work. Near to Cohocsink Creek we met the 
 second Miss Chew, riding with her father. He was 
 handsome in dark velvet, his hair clubbed and pow 
 dered beneath a flat beaver with three rolls, and at 
 his back a queue tied with a red ribbon. He had 
 remained quietly inactive and prudent, and, being 
 liked, had been let alone by our own party. It is to 
 be feared that neither he nor the ribbon was quite 
 as neutral as they had been. Miss Margaret looked 
 her best. I much dislike " Peggy," by which name 
 she was known almost to the loss of that fine, full 
 " Margaret," which suited better her handsome, 
 uptilted head and well-bred look. 
 
 On the right side rode that other Margaret, Miss 
 Shippen, of whom awhile back I spoke, but then 
 only as in pretty bud, at the Woodlands. It was a 
 fair young rose I now saw bowing in the saddle, a 
 woman with both charm and beauty. Long after, 
 in London, and in less merry days, she was described 
 by Colonel Tarleton as past question the handsomest 
 
276 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 woman in all England. I fear, too, she was the 
 saddest. 
 
 " And where have you kept yourself, Mr. Wynne ? " 
 she asked. "You are a favourite of my father s, 
 you know. I had half a mind not to speak to you." 
 
 I bowed, and made some gay answer. I could 
 not well explain that the officers who filled their 
 houses were not to my taste. 
 
 "Let me present you to Mr. Andre," said Mr. 
 Shippen, who brought up the rear. 
 
 " I have the honour to know Mr. Wynne," said the 
 officer. " We met at Lancaster when I was a pris 
 oner in 76 ; in March, was it not ? Mr. Wynne did 
 me a most kind service, Montresor. I owe it to him 
 that I came to know that loyal gentleman, Mr. Cope, 
 and the Yeates people, who at least were loyal to me.. 
 I have not forgotten it, nor ever shall." 
 
 I said it was a very small service, and he was kind 
 to remember it. 
 
 " You may well afford to forget it, sir ; I shall not," 
 he returned. He was in full uniform ; not a tall man, 
 but finely proportioned, with remarkably regular 
 features and a clear complexion which was set oif 
 to advantage by powdered hair drawn back and tied 
 in the usual ribboned queue. 
 
 We rode along in company, happy enough, and 
 chatting as we went, Mr. Andre, as always, the life 
 of the party. He had the gracious frankness of a 
 well-mannered lad, and, as I recall him, seemed far 
 younger than his years. He spoke very feelingly 
 aside to me of young Macpherson, who fell at Quebec. 
 
. 
 
 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 277 
 
 He himself had had the ill luck not to be present 
 when that gallant assault was made. He spoke of us 
 always as colonials, and not as rebels ; and why was I 
 not in the service of the king, or perhaps that was a 
 needless question ? 
 
 I told him frankly that I hoped before long to be 
 in quite other service. At this he cried, "So, so! 
 I would not say it elsewhere. Is that so? T is a 
 pity, Mr. Wynne ; a hopeless cause," adding, with a 
 laugh, that I should not find it very easy to get out 
 of the city, which was far too true. I said there were 
 many ways to go, but how I meant to leave I did not 
 yet know. After I got out I would tell him. We 
 had fallen back a little as we talked, the road just 
 here not allowing three to ride abreast. 
 
 " I shall ask the colonel for a pass to join our army," 
 I said merrily. 
 
 "I would," said he, as gay as 1 5 "but I fear you 
 and Mistress Wynne will have no favours. Pray 
 tell her to be careful. The Tories are talking." 
 
 " Thanks," said I, as we drew aside to let pass a 
 splendid brigade of Hessians, fat and well fed, with 
 shining helmets. 
 
 " We are drawing in a lot of men from German- 
 town," said Andre, "but for what I do not know. 
 Ah, here comes the artillery ! " 
 
 I watched them as we all sat in saddle, while regi 
 ment after regiment passed, the women admiring 
 their precision and soldierly bearing. For my part, 
 I kept thinking of the half -clad, ill-armed men I had 
 seen go down these same streets a little while before. 
 
278 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " I will go," I said to myself j and in a moment I had 
 made one of those decisive resolutions which, once 
 made, seem to control me, and to permit no future 
 change of plan. 
 
 By this time we were come to the bridge over 
 Cohocsink Creek, I having become self-absorbed and 
 silent. The colonel called my attention to his having 
 dammed the creek, and thus flooded the low meadows 
 for more complete defence. I said, " Yes, yes ! n 
 being no longer interested. 
 
 Mr. Shippen said, " We will cross over to the i Rose 
 of Bath 7 and have a little milk-punch before we ride 
 back." This was an inn where, in the garden, was 
 a mineral water much prescribed by Dr. Kearsley. 
 I excused myself, however, and, pleading an engage 
 ment, rode slowly away. 
 
 I put up my inare in my aunt s stable, and went 
 at once into her parlour, full of my purpose. 
 
 I sat down and told her both the talk of two days 
 before with Tarleton and my cousin, and also that I 
 had had in my boat. 
 
 She thought I had been foolishly frank, and said, 
 " You have reason to be careful, Hugh. That man 
 is dangerous. He would not fight you, because that 
 would put an end to his relations with your father. 
 Clerk Mason tells me he has already borrowed two 
 hundred pounds of my brother. So far I can see," 
 she went on ; " the rest is dark that about Wyncote, 
 I mean. Darthea, when once she is away, begins to 
 criticise him. In a word, Hugh, I think he has 
 reason to be jealous." 
 
HUGH WYNNE 279 
 
 O AuntGainor!" 
 
 "Yes. She does not answer your letters, nor 
 should she, but she answers them to me, the minx ! 
 a good sign, sir." 
 
 " That is not all, aunt. I can stand it no longer. 
 I must go ; I am going." 
 
 "The army, Hugh?" 
 
 " Yes ; my mind is made up. My two homes are 
 hardly mine any longer. Every day is a reproach. 
 For my father I can do little. His affairs are almost 
 entirely wound up. He does not need me. The old 
 clerk is better." 
 
 " Will it be hard to leave me, my son ? " 
 
 " You know it will," said I. She had risen, tall and 
 large, her eyes soft with tears. 
 
 "You must go," she said, "and may God protect 
 and keep you. I shall be very lonely, Hugh. But 
 you must go. I have long seen it." 
 
 Upon this, I begged she would see my father often, 
 and give me news of him and of Darthea whenever 
 occasion served. Then she told me Darthea was to 
 return to the city in two days, and she herself would 
 keep in mind all I had wished her to do. After this 
 I told her of the difficulties I should meet with, and 
 we talked them over. Presently she said, "Wait;" 
 then left the room, and, coming back, gave me a 
 sword the counterpart of Jack s. 
 
 " I have had it a year, sir. Let me see," she cried, 
 and would have me put it on, and the sash, and the 
 buff-and-blue sword-knot. After this she put a great 
 hand on each shoulder just as she had done with 
 
280 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 Jack, and, kissing me, said, " War is a sad thing, but 
 there are worse things. Be true to the old name, my 
 son." Nor could she bide it a moment longer, but 
 hurried out with her lace handkerchief to her eyes, 
 saying as she went, " How shall I bear it ! How shall 
 I bear it ! " 
 
 She also had for me a pair of silver-mounted pistols, 
 and an enamelled locket with my mother s ever dear 
 face within, done for her when my mother was 
 in England by the famous painter of miniatures, 
 Mr. Malbone. 
 
 And now I set about seeing how I was to get away. 
 Out* own forces lay at Pennypacker s Mills, or near 
 by j but this I did not know until later, and neither 
 the British nor I were very sure as to their precise 
 situation. It was clear that I must go afoot. As 
 I walked down Second street with this on my mind, 
 I met Colonel Montresor with a group of officers. 
 He stopped me, and, after civilly presenting me, 
 
 " Harcourt and Johnston this latter was he who 
 later married the saucy Miss Franks and her fortune 
 " want to know if you have duck-shooting here on 
 the Schuylkill." 
 
 Suddenly, as I stood, I saw my chance and how 
 to leave the town. I said, "It is rather early, but 
 there are a few ducks in the river. If I had a boat I 
 would try it to-morrow, and then perhaps, if I find 
 any sport, one of you would join me the day after." 
 
 " Very good," said they, as well pleased as I. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 281 
 
 "And the boat? "I said. 
 
 The colonel had one, a rather light skiff, he told 
 me. He used it to go up and down to look at the 
 bridges he was now busily laying. When I asked 
 for its use the next day, he said Yes, if I would send 
 him some ducks; adding that I should need a pass. 
 He would send it that evening by a sergeant, and an 
 order for the skiff, which lay on this side at the lower 
 ferry. I thanked him, and went away happy in the 
 success of my scheme. 
 
 I came upon Andre just after. "Not gone yet? " 
 he said. 
 
 I replied, " Not yet ; but I shall get away." 
 
 He rejoined that he would not like to bet on that, 
 and then went 011 to say that if my aunt had any 
 trouble as to the officers quartered on her, would she 
 kindly say so. The Hessians were rough people, and 
 an exchange might be arranged. Gentlemen of his 
 own acquaintance could be substituted. He himself 
 was in Dr. Franklin s house. It was full of books, 
 and good ones too. 
 
 I thanked him, but said I fancied she was Whig 
 enough to like the Hessians better. 
 
 On Second street I bought a smock shirt, rough 
 shoes, and coarse knit stockings, as well as a good 
 snapsack, and, rolling them up securely, left them 
 at home in the hay-loft. My sword and other finery I 
 must needs leave behind me. I had no friends to say 
 good-bye to, and quite late in the evening I merely 
 ran in and kissed my aunt, and received eight hun- 
 
282 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 dred pounds in English notes, her offering to the 
 cause, which I was to deliver to the general. Her 
 gift to me was one hundred pounds in gold, just 
 what she gave to my Jack. The larger sum she had 
 put aside by degrees. It embarrassed me, but to 
 refuse it would have hurt her. 
 
 I carefully packed my snapsack, putting the gold 
 in bags at the bottom, and covering it with the flan 
 nel shirts and extra shoes which made up my outfit. 
 I could not resist taking my pistols, as I knew that 
 to provide myself as well in camp would not be pos 
 sible. The bank-bills I concealed in my long stock 
 ings, and would gladly have been without them had 
 I not seen how greatly this would disappoint my aunt. 
 She counted, and wisely, on their insuring me a more 
 than favourable reception. Lastly, I got me a small 
 compass and some tobacco for Jack. 
 
 It must be hard for you, in this happier day, when 
 it is easy to get with speed anywhere on swift and 
 well-horsed coaches, to imagine what even a small 
 journey of a day or two meant for us. Men who 
 rode carried horseshoes and nails. Those who drove 
 had in the carriage ropes and a box of tools for re 
 pairs. I was perhaps better off than some who drove 
 or rode in those days, for afoot one cannot be stalled, 
 nor easily lose a shoe, although between Philadelphia 
 and Darby I have known it to happen. 
 
 I knew the country I was to travel, and up to a 
 point knew it well ; beyond that I must trust to good 
 fortune. Early in the evening came a sergeant with 
 the promised order for the boat, and a pass signed 
 
HUGH WYNNE 283 
 
 by Sir William Howe s adjutant. At ten I bade my 
 father good-night and went upstairs, where I wrote 
 to him, and inclosed the note in one for my aunt. 
 This I gave to Tom, our coachman, with strict orders 
 to deliver it late the next day. I had no wish that 
 by any accident it should too early betray my true 
 purpose. My gun I ostentatiously cleaned in the late 
 afternoon, and set in the hall. 
 
 No one but my aunt had the least suspicion of 
 what I was in act to do. At last I sat down and 
 carefully considered my plan, and my best and most 
 rapid way of reaching the army. To go through 
 Germantown and Chestnut Hill would have been the 
 direct route, for to a surety our army lay somewhere 
 nigh to Worcester, which was in the county of Phil 
 adelphia, although of late years I believe in Mont 
 gomery. To go this plain road would have taken me 
 through the pickets, and where lay on guard the chief 
 of the British army- This would, of course, be full of 
 needless risks. It remained to consider the longer road. 
 This led me down the river to a point where I must 
 leave it, shoulder my snapsack, and trudge down the 
 Darby road, or between it and the river. Somewhere 
 I must cross the highway and strike across-country 
 as I could to the Schuylkill below Conshohocken, and 
 there find means to get over at one of the fords. 
 Once well away from the main road to Darby and 
 Wilmington, I should be, I thought, safe. After 
 crossing the Schuylkill I hoped to get news which 
 would guide me. I hardly thought it likely that the 
 English who lay at Germantown and Mount Airy 
 
284 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 would picket beyond the banks of the Wissahickon. 
 I might have to look out for foraging English west 
 of the Schuylkill, but this I must chance. 
 
 I was about to leave home, perhaps forever, but I 
 never in my life went to bed with a more satisfied 
 heart than I bore that night. 
 
XVI 
 
 break of day I woke, and, stealing down 
 stairs, took gun, powder-horn, and shot, 
 and in the stable loft pnt the ammunition 
 in the top of my snapsack then, quickly 
 changing my clothes, concealed those I 
 had put off under the hay, and so set out. 
 
 The town was all asleep, and I saw no one until I 
 passed the Betteririg-house, and the Grenadiers clean 
 ing their guns, and powdering their queues and hair, 
 and thence pushed on to the river. The lower ferry, 
 known also as Gray s, lay just a little south of where 
 the Woodlands, Mr. James Hamilton s house, stood 
 among trees high above the quiet river. 
 
 A few tents and a squad of sleepy men were at the 
 ferry. I handed my order and pass to the sergeant, 
 who looked me over as if he thought it odd that a 
 man of my class should be so equipped to shoot ducks. 
 However, he read my pass and the order for the boat, 
 pushed the skiff into the water, and proposed, as he 
 lifted my snapsack, to let one of his men row me. I 
 said No ; I must drift or paddle on to the ducks, and 
 would go alone. Thanking him, I pushed out into 
 the stream. He wished me good luck, and pocketed 
 my shilling. 
 
 285 
 
286 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 It was now just sunrise. I paddled swiftly down 
 stream. Not a hundred yards from the ferry I saw 
 ducks on the east shore, and, having loaded, paddled 
 over to Rambo s Rock, and was lucky enough to get 
 two ducks at a shot. Recrossing, I killed two more 
 in succession, and then pushed on, keeping among 
 the reeds of the west bank. As I passed Bartram s 
 famous garden, I saw his son near the river, busy, 
 as usual, with his innocent flowers. 
 
 A half-mile below I perceived, far back of the 
 shore, a few redcoats. Annoyed no little, for here 
 I meant to land, I turned the boat, still hidden by 
 the tall reeds, and soon drew up the skiff at Bartram s, 
 where, taking gun and snapsack, I went up the slope. 
 I found Mr. William Bartram standing under a fine 
 cypress his father had fetched as a slip from Florida 
 in 1731. He was used to see me on the river, but 
 looked at my odd costume with as much curiosity as 
 the sergeant had done. He told me his father had 
 died but ten days before, for which I felt sorry, since, 
 except by Friends, who had disowned the good botan 
 ist, he was held in general esteem. I hastily but 
 frankly told Mr. Bartram my errand. He said : 
 
 " Come to the house. A company or two has just 
 now passed to relieve the lower fort." 
 
 After I had a glass of milk, and good store of 
 bread and butter, I asked him to accept my gun, and 
 that he would do me the kindness to return the skiff, 
 and with it to forward a note, for the writing of 
 which Mrs. Bartram gave me quill and paper. 
 
 I wrote : 
 
HUGH WYNNE 287 
 
 "Mr. Hugh Wynne presents his compliments to 
 Mr. Montresor, and returns his skiff. He desires Mr. 
 Montresor to accept two brace of ducks, and begs to 
 express his sincere thanks for the pass, which enabled 
 Mr. Wynne to make with comfort his way to the army. 
 Mr. Wynne trusts at some time to be able to show 
 his gratitude for this favour, and meanwhile he re 
 mains Mr. Montresor s obedient, humble servant. 
 
 " October 1, 1777. 
 
 " Mr. Wynne s most particular compliments to Mr. 
 Andre. It proved easier to escape than Mr. Andre 
 thought." 
 
 I could not help smiling to think of the good colo 
 nel s face when he should read this letter. I glanced 
 at the arms over the fireplace, thanked the good 
 people warmly, and, as I went out, looked back at 
 the familiar words old John Bartram set over the 
 door in 1770 : 
 
 ; T is God alone, Almighty Lord, 
 
 The Holy One by me adored. 
 
 It seemed the last of home and its associations. I 
 turned away, passed through the grounds, which ex 
 tended up to the Darby road, and, after a careful look 
 about me, moved rapidly southward. Here and there 
 were farm-houses between spurs of the broken forest 
 which, with its many farms, stretched far to west 
 ward. I met no one. 
 
 I knew there was a picket at the Blue Bell Inn, 
 and so, before nearing it, I struck into a woodland, 
 and, avoiding the farms, kept to the northwest until 
 
288 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 I came on to a road which I saw at once to be Gray s 
 Lane. Unused to guiding myself by compass, I had 
 again gotten dangerously near to the river. I pushed 
 up the lane to the west, and after half an hour came 
 upon a small hamlet, where I saw an open forge and 
 a sturdy smith at work. In a moment I recognised 
 my old master, Lowry, the farrier. I asked the way 
 across- country to the Schuylkill. He stood a little, 
 resting on his hammer, not in the least remembering 
 me. He said it was difficult. I must take certain 
 country lanes until I got into the Lancaster road, 
 and so on. 
 
 I did not wish to get into the main highway, where 
 foragers or outlying parties might see fit to be too 
 curious. I said at last, " Dost not thou know thy old 
 prentice, Hugh Wynne ? " 
 
 I felt sure of my man, as he had been one of the 
 Sons of Liberty, and had fallen out with Friends in 
 consequence, so that I did not hesitate to relate my 
 whole story. He was pleased to see me, and bade me 
 enter and see his wife. As we stood consulting, a 
 man cried out at the door : 
 
 "Here are more Hessians." And as he spoke we 
 heard the notes of a bugle. 
 
 " Put me somewhere," I said, " and quick." 
 
 "No," he cried. "Here, set your snapsack back 
 of this forge. Put on this leather apron. Smudge 
 your face and hands." 
 
 It took me but a minute, and here I was, grimy 
 and black, a smith again, with my sack hid under a 
 lot of old iron and a broken bellows. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 289 
 
 As they rode up some two dozen yagers I let 
 fall the bellows handle, at which my master had set 
 me to work, and went out to the doorway. There, 
 not at all to my satisfaction, I saw the small Hessian, 
 Captain von Heiser, our third and least pleasant 
 boarder, the aide of General Knyphausen. Worse 
 still, he was on Lucy. It was long before I knew 
 how this came to pass. They had two waggons, and, 
 amidst the lamentations of the hamlet, took chickens, 
 pigs, and grain, leaving orders on the paymaster, 
 which, I am told, were scrupulously honoured. 
 
 Two horses needed shoeing at once, and then I was 
 told Lucy had a loose shoe, and my master called me 
 a lazy dog, and bid me quit staring or I would get a 
 strapping, and to see to the gentleman s mare, and 
 that in a hurry. It was clear the dear thing knew 
 me ; for she put her nose down to my side to get the 
 apples I liked to keep for her in my side pockets. I 
 really thought she would betray me, so clearly did 
 she seem to me to understand that here was a friend 
 she knew. A wild thought came over me to mount 
 her and ride for my life. No horse there of the heavy 
 Brandenburgers could have kept near her. It would 
 have been madness, of course, and so I took my six 
 pence with a touch of my felt hat, and saw my dear Lucy 
 disappear in a cloud of dust, riding toward the town. 
 
 "That was a big risk for thee," said the smith, 
 wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. 
 "I will mount and ride with thee across-country 
 through the Welsh Barony. There thou wilt not 
 be far from the river. It is a good ten-mile business." 
 
 19 
 
290 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 After a little, when I had had some milk and rum, 
 the horses were saddled, and we crossed by an ox- 
 road through the forest past the settlement of Card- 
 ingtoii, and then forded Cobb s Creek. A cross-road 
 carried us into the Haverford road, and so on by 
 wood- ways to the old Welsh farms beyond Merion. 
 
 We met no one on the way save a farmer or two, 
 and here, being near to the Schuylkill, my old master 
 farrier took leave of me at the farm of Edward Mas 
 ters, which lay in our way, and commended me to 
 the care of this good Free Quaker. 
 
 There I was well fed, and told I need to look out 
 only on this side the river for Tories. They were worse 
 than Hessianers, he said, and robbed like highway 
 men. In fact, already the Tories who came confidently 
 back with the British army had become a terror to all 
 peaceful folk between Sweedsboro and our own city. 
 Their bands acted under royal commissions, some as 
 honest soldiers, but some as the enemies of any who 
 owned a cow or a barrel of flour, or from whom, 
 under torture, could be wrested a guinea. All who 
 were thus organised came at length to be dreaded, 
 and this whether they were bad or better. Friend 
 Masters had suffered within the week, but, once over 
 the Schuylkill, he assured me, there need be no fear, 
 as our own partisans and foragers were so active to 
 the north of the stream as to make it perilous for 
 Tories. 
 
 With this caution, my Quaker friend went with 
 me a mile, and set me on a wood path. I must be 
 put over at Hagy s Ford, he feared, as the river was 
 
HUGH WYNNE 291 
 
 in flood and too high for a horse to wade j nor was 
 it much better at Young s Ford above. Finally he 
 said, " The ferryman is Peter Skinner, and as bad as 
 the Jersey Tories of that name. If thou dost perceive 
 him to talk Friends language in reply to thy own 
 talk, thou wilt do well to doubt what he may tell thee. 
 He is not of our society. He cannot even so speak 
 as that it will deceive. Hereabouts it is thought he 
 is in league with Fitz." I asked who was Fitz. He 
 was one, I was told, who had received some lashes 
 when a private in our army, and had deserted. The 
 British, discovering his capacity, now used him as a 
 forager ; but he did not stop at hen-roosts. 
 
 With this added warning, I went on, keeping north 
 until I came -to the Eock road, by no means mis 
 named, and so through Merion Square to Hagy s Ford 
 Lane and the descent to the river. I saw few people 
 on the way. The stream was in a freshet, and not to 
 be waded. My ferryman was caulking a dory. I said: 
 
 "Wilt thou set me across, friend, and at what 
 charge 1 " 
 
 To this he replied, " Where is thee bound ? " 
 
 I said, " To White Marsh." 
 
 " Thee is not of these parts." 
 
 "No." 
 
 He was speaking the vile tongue which now all 
 but educated Friends speak, and even some of these ; 
 but at that time it was spoken only by the vulgar. 
 
 " It will cost thee two shillings." 
 
 " Too much/ said I ; " but thou hast me caught. 
 I must over, and that soon." 
 
292 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 He was long about getting ready, and now and 
 then looked steadily across the stream but as to this 
 I was not troubled, as I knew that, once beyond it, 
 I was out of danger. 
 
 I paid my fare, and left him looking after me up 
 the deep cut which led to the more level uplands. 
 Whistling gaily, and without suspicion, I won the 
 hilltop by what I think they called Ship Lane. 
 
 Glad to be over Schuylkill and out of the way of 
 risks, I sat down by the roadside at the top of the 
 ascent. The forest was dense with underbrush on 
 either side, and the hickories, and below them the 
 sumachs, were already rich with the red and gold of 
 autumn. Being rather tired, I remained at rest at 
 least for a half-hour in much comfort of body and 
 mind. I had been strongly urged by my love for 
 Darthea to await her coming ; but decisions are and 
 were with me despotic, and, once I was of a mind to 
 go, not even Darthea could keep me. Yet to leave 
 her to my cousin and his wiles I hated. The more 
 I discussed him in the council of my own thoughts, 
 the more I was at a loss. His evident jealousy of 
 one so much younger did seem to me, as it did to my 
 aunt, singular. And why should he wish me to be 
 away, as clearly he did ? and why also malign me to 
 my father ? I smiled to think I was where his malice 
 could do me no harm, and, rising, pulled my snapsack 
 straps up on my shoulders, and set my face to the 
 east. 
 
 Of a sudden I heard to left, " Halt, there ! " I 
 saw a long rifle covering me, and above the brush 
 
HUGH WYNNE 293 
 
 a man s face. Then stepped out to right, as I obeyed 
 the order, a fellow in buckskin shirt and leggings, 
 with a pistol. I cried out, " I surrender ; " for what 
 else could I do ? Instantly a dozen men, all armed, 
 were in the road, and an ill-looking lot they were. 
 The leader, a coarse fellow, was short and red of 
 face, and much pimpled. He had hair half a foot 
 long, and a beard such as none wore in those days. 
 
 I had but time to say meekly, "Why dost thou 
 stop me, friend ? " when he jerked off my sack and, 
 plunging a hand inside, pulled out a pistol. 
 
 " A pretty Quaker ! Here," and he put back the 
 pistol, crying, as the men laughed, " sergeant, strap 
 this on your back. Quick ! fetch out the horses ; we 
 will look him over later. Up with him behind Joe ! 
 Quick a girth ! We have no time to waste. A 
 darned rebel spy ! No doubt Sir William may like 
 to have him." 
 
 In truth, no time was lost nor any ceremony used, 
 and here was I strapped to the waist of a sturdy 
 trooper, behind whom I was set on a big-boned roan 
 horse, and on my way home again. 
 
 "Which way, Captain Fitz?" said the sergeant. 
 " The ford is high." In a moment we were away, in 
 all, as I noted, about a score. 
 
 The famous Tory chief he was no better than a 
 bold thief made no reply, but rode northwest with 
 his following for the ford below Conshohocken, as 
 I fancied. He went at speed through the open pine 
 forest, I, my hands being free, holding on to my man 
 as well as I could, and, as you may suppose, not very 
 
 20 
 
294 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 happy, A mile away we came out on a broad road. 
 Here the captain hesitated, and of a sudden turned 
 to left toward the river, crying loudly, with an oath, 
 " Follow me ! " The cause was plain. 
 
 Some twenty troopers came out into the road not 
 a hundred yards distant, and instantly rode down on 
 us at a run. Before we could get as swift a pace, 
 they were close upon us j and then it was a wild and 
 perilous race downhill for the river, with yell, curses, 
 and pistol-balls flying, I as helpless, meanwhile, as 
 a child. The big roan kept well up to the front 
 near the captain. Looking back, through dust and 
 smoke, I saw our pursuers were better horsed and 
 were gaining. A man near me dropped, and a horse 
 went down. With my left hand I caught hold of the 
 strap which fastened me to the rascal in the saddle. 
 He was riding for life, and too scared to take note of 
 the act. I gave the buckle a quick jerk, and it came 
 loose, and the strap fell. I clutched the man by the 
 throat with my right hand, and squeezed his gullet 
 with a death-grip. He made with his right hand for a 
 holster pistol, losing his stirrups, and kicking as 
 if in a fit. I only tightened my grip, and fetched 
 him a crack under the left ear with my unengaged 
 hand. He was reeling in the saddle when, at this 
 instant, I was aware of a horseman on my right. I 
 saw a sabre gleam in air above us, and, letting go 
 my scamp s throat, I ducked quickly below his left 
 shoulder as I swung him to left, meaning to chance 
 a fall. He had, I fancy, some notion of his peril, for 
 he put up his hand and bent forward. I saw the 
 
HUGH WYNNE 295 
 
 flash of a blade, and, my captor s head falling for 
 ward, a great spoilt of blood shot back into my face, 
 as the pair of us tumbled together headlong from 
 his horse. I was dimly conscious of yells, oaths, a 
 horse leaping over me, and for a few seconds knew 
 no more. Then I sat up, wiped the blood away, and 
 saw what had happened. 
 
 The trooper lay across me dead, his head nearly 
 severed from the trunk, and spouting great jets of 
 blood. A half-dozen dead or wounded were scattered 
 along the road. Not a rod away was the sergeant 
 who had my sack pinned under his horse, and far 
 ahead, in a cloud of dust, that terrible swordsman 
 riding hard after the bandit. Fitz, well mounted, got 
 off, I may add, and, with three or four, swam the 
 river, living to be hanged, as he well deserved. 
 
 By the time I was up and staggering forward, bent 
 on recovering my sack, the leader, who had given up 
 the chase, rode toward me. I must have been a queer 
 and horrid figure. I was literally covered with blood 
 and mud. The blood was everywhere, in my hair, 
 over my face, and down my neck, but I wanted my 
 precious sack. 
 
 " Halt ! " he cried out. " Here, corporal, tie this 
 fellow." 
 
 " Pardon me," said I, now quite myself. " I was 
 the prisoner of these rascals." 
 
 " Indeed ? Your name ! n 
 
 "Hugh Wynne." 
 
 "Where from?" 
 
 "From the city." 
 
296 - HUGH WYNNE 
 
 "Where to!" 
 
 " To join the army." 
 
 " Your business f What are you ? " 
 
 " Gentleman." 
 
 " Good heavens ! you are a queer one ! We shall 
 see. Are you hurt ? No ? Great Cassar ! you are 
 an awful sight ! " 
 
 "I was tied to that fellow you disposed of, and 
 with your permission I will get my snapsack yonder." 
 
 " Good ; get it. Go with him, corporal, and keep 
 an eye on him." 
 
 In a half -hour the dead were stripped and pitched 
 aside, the wounded cared for in haste, and the horses 
 caught. 
 
 " Can you ride ? " said my captor. " By George, 
 you must ! " 
 
 " Yes, I can ride." 
 
 " Then up with you. Give him a leg." 
 
 I wanted none, and was up in a moment on the 
 bare back of a big farm mare ; their errand had been, 
 I learned, the purchase of horses. The captain bade 
 me ride with him, and, turning north, we rode away, 
 while the big brute under me jolted my sore bones. 
 
 "And now," said the captain, "let me hear, Mr. 
 Wynne, what you have to say. Take a pull at my 
 flask." 
 
 I did so, and went on to relate my adventures 
 briefly the duck-shooting, which much amused him, 
 the escape at the forge, and what else seemed to be 
 needed to set myself right. He looked me over again 
 keenly. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 297 
 
 " You had a close thing of it." 
 
 " Yes/ said I ; " you are a terrible swordsman, and 
 a good one, if you will pardon me." 
 
 " I meant to cut him on the head, but he put his 
 neck where his head should have been. There is 
 one rascal the less ; but I missed the leader. Hang 
 him ! " 
 
 " He will take care of that," said I. 
 
 Then my companion said I must join his troop, 
 and would I excuse his rough dealing with me ? 
 
 I declared myself well content, and explained as to 
 his offer that I was much obliged, and would think 
 it over 5 but that I desired first to see the army, and 
 to find my friend, Captain Warder, of the Pennsyl 
 vania line. 
 
 " Yes ; a stout man and dark ? " 
 
 " No } slight, well built, a blond." 
 
 " Good ; I know him. I was testing your tale, Mr. 
 Wynne. One has need to be careful in these times." 
 For a few moments he was silent, and then asked 
 sharply, "Where did you cross?" 
 
 I told him. 
 
 "And are there any outlying pickets above the 
 upper ferry on the west bank?" 
 
 I thought not, and went on to tell of the bridging 
 of the river, of the lines of forts, and of the positions 
 held in the city by the Grenadiers and the High 
 landers. A large part of the army, I said, was being 
 withdrawn from Germantown, I supposed with a 
 view to attack the forts below the city. 
 
 " What you say is valuable, Mr. Wynne." And he 
 
298 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 quickened the pace with an order, and pushed on at 
 speed. 
 
 It seemed to me time to know into whose company 
 I had fallen, and who was the hardy and decisive 
 rider at my side. 
 
 " May I take the liberty to ask with what command 
 lam?" 
 
 " Certainly. I am Allan McLane, at your service. 
 I will talk to you later ; now I want to think over 
 what you have told me. I tried to get into the city 
 last week, dressed as an old woman j they took my 
 eggs Lord, they were aged! but I got no farther 
 than the middle ferry. Are you sure that troops are 
 being withdrawn from Germantown ? " 
 
 I said I was, and in large numbers. After this we 
 rode on in silence through the twilight. I glanced 
 now and then at my companion, the boldest of our 
 partisan leaders, and already a sharp thorn in the 
 side of General Howe s extended line. He was slight, 
 well made, and dark, with some resemblance to 
 Arthur Wynne, but with no weak lines about a 
 mouth which, if less handsome than my cousin s, was 
 far more resolute. 
 
 I was ready to drop from my rough steed when we 
 began, about nine at night, to see the camp-fires of 
 our army on either side of Skippack Creek. A halt 
 at the pickets, and we rode on around the right flank 
 among rude huts, rare tents, rows of spancelled 
 horses, we call it "hobbled" nowadays, and so at 
 last to a group of tents, the headquarters of the small 
 cavalry division. 
 
HUGH WYNNE 299 
 
 " Halt ! " I heard ; and I literally almost tumbled 
 off my horse, pleased to see the last of him. 
 
 " This way, sir/ said McLane. " Here is my tent. 
 There is a flask under the pine-needles. I have no 
 feather-bed to offer. Get an hour s rest ; it is all you 
 can have just now. When I find out the headquar 
 ters, you must ride again." And he was gone. 
 
 I found a jug of water and a towel j but my at 
 tempts to get the blood and mud out of my hair and 
 neck were quite vain. I gave it up at last. Then I 
 nearly emptied the flask which McLane had left me, 
 set my sack under my head, pulled up a blanket, and 
 in a minute was out of the world of war and sound 
 asleep. 
 
 I do not know how long my slumber lasted on nry 
 fragrant bed of pine. I heard a voice say, " Are you 
 dead, man ? " And shaken roughly, I sat up, confused, 
 and for a moment wondering where I was. 
 
 " Come," said McLane. " Oh, leave your sack." 
 
 " No," I said, not caring to explain why. 
 
 In a moment I was in the saddle, as fresh as need 
 be, the cool October night- wind in my face. 
 
 " Where are we bound ? " I asked. 
 
 " Headquarters. I want you to tell your own news. 
 Hang the man ! " We had knocked down a lurching 
 drunkard, but McLane stayed to ask no questions, 
 and in a half -hour we pulled up in the glare of a huge 
 fire, around which lay aides, some asleep and others 
 smoking. A few yards away was a row of tents. 
 
 McLane looked about him. " Holloa, Hamilton ! n 
 he cried to a slight young man lying at the fire. 
 
300 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 " Tell his Excellency I am here. I have news of im 
 portance." 
 
 A moment after, the gentleman, who was to become 
 so well known and to die so needlessly, came back, 
 and we followed him to the larger of the tents. As 
 he lifted the fly he said, "Captain McLane to see 
 your Excellency. 7 
 
 On a plain farm-house table were four candles, 
 dimly lighting piles of neatly folded papers, a simple 
 camp-bed, two or three wooden stools, and a camp- 
 chest. The officer who sat bareheaded at the table 
 pushed aside a map and looked up. I was once more 
 in the presence of Washington. Both McLane and 
 I stood waiting I a little behind. 
 
 " Whom have you here, sir ? " 
 
 "Mr. Wynne, a gentleman who has escaped in 
 disguise to join the army. He has news which may 
 interest your Excellency." As he spoke I came 
 forward. 
 
 " Are you wounded, sir ? " 
 
 " No," said I ; "it is another man s blood, not mine." 
 He showed no further curiosity, nor any sign of the 
 amazement I had seen in the faces of his aides-de 
 camp on my appearance at the camp-fire. 
 
 " Pray be seated, gentlemen. Do me the favour, 
 Captain McLane, to ask Colonel Hamilton to return. 
 Mr. Wynne, you said ? " 
 
 " Yes, your Excellency." 
 
 Then, to set myself right, I told him that I had had 
 the honour to have met him at the house of my aunt, 
 Mistress Wynne. " With permission, sir," I added, 
 
HUGH WYNNE 301 
 
 " I am charged to deliver to your Excellency eight 
 hundred pounds which Mistress Wynne humbly 
 trusts may be of use to the cause of liberty." So 
 saying, I pulled the English notes out of my long 
 stockings and laid them before him. 
 
 " I could desire many recruits like you/ 7 he said. 
 " Mr. Hamilton, I beg to present Mr. Wynne. Have 
 the kindness to make memoranda of what he may 
 tell us." He spoke with deliberation, as one who had 
 learned to weigh his words, not omitting any of the 
 usual courteous forms, more common at that time 
 than in our less formal day. General Knox came in 
 as we sat down. 
 
 He was a sturdy man with a slight stoop, and had 
 left his book-shop in Boston to become the trusted 
 friend and artillery officer of the great Virginian, 
 who chose his men with slight regard to the tongues 
 of the Southern officers, for whom they were too 
 often " shopkeepers " or " mere traders." 
 
 "Report of court martial on Daniel Plympton, 
 deserter," said Knox. The general took the papers, 
 and for ten minutes at least was intently concerned 
 with what he read. Then he took a pen and wrote 
 a line and his name, and, looking up, said, " Approved, 
 of course. Parade his regiment at daybreak for exe 
 cution. Your pardon, gentlemen." And at once he 
 began to put to me a series of questions rather slowly. 
 The absence of hurry surprised me, young as I was, 
 and not yet apt to take in all I might see. Every 
 minute some one appeared. There were papers to 
 sign, aides coming and going, impatient sounds with- 
 
302 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 out, a man s death decreed j but with no sign of haste 
 he went on to finish. 
 
 At last he rose to his feet, we also standing, of 
 conrse. "Are you sure that Sir William has re 
 called any large force from Germantown ? any large 
 forcer 7 
 
 I knew that the Grenadiers and many Hessians had 
 come in, and a considerable part of the artillery, but 
 to what extent or precisely in what numbers I could 
 not be sure. He seemed to me to be intensely con 
 sidering what I told him. 
 
 At last he said, " You must be tired. You have 
 brought much needed help, and also good news." 
 Why good I did not then understand. "And now 
 what do you desire? How can I serve you, Mr. 
 Wynne?" 
 
 I said I wished to be in the ranks for a time, 
 until I learned a little more of the duty. 
 
 He made no comment, but turning to McLane, 
 said, " Captain McLane, you will care for this gen 
 tleman. I trust occasion may serve, Mr. Wynne, to 
 enable me to offer Mistress Wynne my thanks. When 
 you desire a commission, Mr. Hamilton will kindly 
 remind me of the service you have done your coun 
 try to-day. You have acted with your usual discre 
 tion, Captain McLane. Good-night, gentlemen." 
 We bowed and went out. 
 
 On our way back we rode a footpace, while the 
 captain, now ready enough to talk, answered my 
 many questions. " Yes ; the general was a reserved, 
 tranquil man, with a chained-up devil inside of him ; 
 
HUGH WYNNE 303 
 
 could lay a whip over a black fellow s back if a horse 
 were ill groomed, or call a man and he a general 
 
 _ a d drunkard; but that would be in the heat 
 
 of a fight. An archbishop would learn to swear in 
 the army, and the general had no more piety than 
 was good for men who were here to commit murder." 
 
 The next day I set out afoot, as I preferred, to look 
 for Jack, and a nice business I found it. The army 
 was moving down the Skippack road to Worcester 
 township, and the whole march seemed, to me at least, 
 one great bewildering confusion of dust, artillery, 
 or waggons stalled, profane aides going hither and 
 thither, broken fences, women standing at farm-house 
 doors, white and crying, as the long line of our foot 
 passed ; and over all rang sharp the clink and rattle 
 of flanking cavalry as the horse streamed by, tram 
 pling the ruddy buckwheat-fields, and through rav 
 aged orchards and broken gardens. Overhead, in a 
 great cloud high in air, the fine dust was blown down 
 the line by the east wind. It was thick and oppres 
 sive, choking man and horse with an exacting thirst, 
 mocked by empty wells and defiled brooks. No one 
 knew where any one else was, and in all my life, save 
 on one memorable evening, I never heard as great a 
 variety of abominable language. 
 
 I had done my best, by some change of under 
 clothes and the industrious use of soap and water, to 
 make my appearance less noticeable ; but it was still 
 bad enough, because I had no outer garments except 
 those I was wearing. Had I been better dressed, I 
 had fared better : for in those davs clothes were con- 
 
304 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 sidered, and you might easily tell by his costume if a 
 man were a mechanic, a farmer, a small trader, or a 
 gentleman. 
 
 I fell at last upon an officer who was endeavouring 
 to get his horse a share of wayside ditch water. I 
 said to him, seeing my chance, that his horse had 
 picked up a stone; if he would wait a moment I 
 would knock it out. On this, and upon his thank 
 ing me, I asked where I might find Wayne s brigade, 
 for in it, as I knew, was my captain of the Third 
 Pennsylvania Continental foot. He told me it was 
 a mile ahead. Comforted by this news, I walked on, 
 keeping chiefly in the fields, for there alone was it 
 possible to get past the marching columns. 
 
 About eleven there was a halt. I passed a lot of 
 loose women in carts, many canvas-covered commis 
 sary waggons, footsore men fallen out, and some 
 asleep in the fields, all the scum and refuse of an 
 army, with always dust, dust, so that man, beast, 
 waggons, and every green thing were of one dull 
 yellow. Then there was shouting on the road j the 
 stragglers fled left and right, a waggon of swearing 
 women turned over into a great ditch, and with 
 laughter, curses, and crack of whip, two well-horsed 
 cannon and caissons bounded over the field, crashing 
 through a remnant of snake fence, and so down the 
 road at speed. I ran behind them, glad of the gap 
 they left. About a mile farther they pulled up, and 
 going by I saw with joy the red and buff of the 
 Pennsylvania line. Behind them there was an 
 interval, and thus the last files were less dusty. But 
 
HUGH WYNNE 305 
 
 for this I should have gone past them. A soldier 
 told me that this was the regiment I sought, and, 
 searching the ranks eagerly as they stood at ease, I 
 walked swiftly along. 
 
 " Holloa ! " I shouted. I saw Jack look about him. 
 " Jack ! " I cried. He ran to me as I spoke. I think 
 I should have kissed him but for the staring soldiers. 
 In ah 1 my life I never was so glad. There was brief 
 time allowed for greetings. " Fall in ! fall in ! " I 
 heard. " March ! " 
 
 " Come along/ he said. And walking beside him, 
 I poured out news of home, of my Aunt Gainor, and 
 of myself. 
 
 A mile beyond we halted close to the road near to 
 Methacton Hill, where, I may add, we lay that night 
 of October 2. Having no tents, Jack and I slept 
 on the ground rolled up in Holland blankets, and 
 sheltered in part by a wicky-up, which the men con 
 trived cleverly enough. 
 
 I saw on our arrival how automatically, as it 
 seemed to me the regiments found camping-grounds, 
 and how well the ragged men arranged for shelters 
 of boughs, or made tents with two rails and a blanket. 
 The confusion disappeared. Sentries and pickets 
 were posted, fires were lit, and food cooked. The 
 order of it seemed to me as mysterious as the seem 
 ing disorder of the march. 
 
 After some talk with Jack, I concluded to serve as 
 a volunteer, at least for a few weeks, and learn the 
 business better before I should decide to accept the 
 general s kindness. Accordingly I took my place 
 
306 HUGH WYNNE 
 
 in the ranks of Jack s company, and, confiding most 
 of my gold to his care, kept in a belt under my 
 clothes not more than six guineas, as I remember. 
 No uniform was to be had at any price j but I was 
 hardly worse off than half of the men who made up 
 our company. A musket, and what else was wanted, 
 I obtained without trouble, and as to the drill, I knew 
 it well enough, thanks to the Irish sergeant who had 
 trained us at home. 
 
 Our duties, of course, kept us much apart that is, 
 Jack and myself ; but as he made use, or pretended 
 to make use, of me as an orderly, I was able to see 
 more of him that day than otherwise would have 
 been possible. My pistols I asked him to use until I 
 could reclaim them, and I made him happy with the 
 tobacco I brought, and which I soon saw him divid 
 ing among other officers ; for what was Jack s was 
 always everybody s. And, indeed, because of this 
 generosity he has been much imposed upon by the 
 selfish. 
 
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