I approach the termination of that part of my memoirs,
which I intend for the public.

It has been seen, that we reached the American camp
on the evening of the fifth of October.

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I was happy that my wounds were sufficiently healed
to allow me, at the head of my corps, to participate in the
memorable action of the seventh.

It is hardly necessary to observe, that I at once compelled
Mayflower to abandon her masquerade, and to
refrain from any participation in the action.

Our meeting and our betrothal had revived the woman
within her. Moreover as her sex was now generally
known, she shrank from the publicity, to which her successful
disguise had previously rendered her indifferent.

It was natural that she should endeavour by force of
entreaties to induce me to abandon the army; but her
entreaties made no impression upon my mind.

I had the good fortune to render essential services in
the second and conclusive action at Stillwater.

On the nineteenth I had the satisfaction of seeing the
grand denouement of the whole plot.

I was present at the surrender of Burgoyne. The
whole history of this campaign, and of the subsequent
events is too well known, to afford me the slightest excuse
for lingering any longer upon their history.

The re-appearance of one important, and by the reader
I hope not unforgotten, personage is the principal circumstance
which I wish now to record.

Two days after the surrender of the British army, I
was turning over the list of their officers. I had taken
temporary lodgings in the village of Saratoga.

We were, however, on the point of leaving our present
situation, for a more southern theatre.

I was informed that a British officer was below, and
wished to speak with me. He had mentioned to the attendant
that he was an old acquaintance of Colonel
Morton's.

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While I was wondering what acquaintance I could
possibly have in the British army, the door opened.

I turned my eyes to my visitor, and beheld Sansterre
Lackland!

Our greeting was almost rapturous. After the first
surprise was over, we sat down and entertained each
other with our adventures.

His appearance upon the stage was perhaps not very
surprising. It was even singular that I had never before
contemplated the possibility of beholding him.

His, was in fact, exactly the sort of nature which feels
at last the necessity of a powerful stimulant, and which
cannot remain long quiescent, without rushing at last
into action for relief.

I reminded him that I had often told him how much
he mistook his own nature, and how wrong a moral he
had deduced from a contemplation of his career.

“You were right, my dear fellow, after all,” said he.
“But to think of my being captured in my old age by a
parcel of d—d Yankees! However, you have the laugh
upon me after all, Morton, and hang me if I have not a
great mind to turn rebel myself. Here are you, a Colonel
in the victorious army, and I am nothing but Captain
Lackland of his majesty's surrendered 33d. Promotion
is certainly more rapid in your undisciplined
ranks. How is pay?”

“The less we say about the pay, the better,” was my
reply.

“It seems then that it is an expensive amusement, to
serve in a rebellious army,” said Lackland.

“I shouldn't wonder,” said Mr. Dodge, who had just
then entered the apartment, and unceremoniously joined
in the conversation.