Before we introduce our readers into this drawing room, let us pause at
that old fashioned hall door, and read the inscription over the coat of arms,
(the plate on which it was inscribed was in existence within the memory of
many now living,) we think it reads thus: “Patior et Portior;” the most
appropriate that could be conceived for its possessor, it was his life, both previous
and subsequent, in an epigraph. Through this large old dining hall we
pass into a parlor well lighted up, and furnished with much taste and elegance.
The room was nearly full of company; and we shall proceed to introduce
such of them as we take a fancy to.

But, before we do so, let us premise, that that drawing-room contained at
that moment the future fathers and mothers of some of the most celebrated
characters of our country. First, of course, we shall present the lady of the
mansion; she was seated with some half dozen others of her own sex at a
small table, around which they were working at the needle, busily chatting
all the while, sometimes with the gentlemen standing around, and sometimes
with other ladies similarly seated and occupied in other parts of the room.
Lady Spotswood, notwithstanding the stiff fashion of the female costume and
head dress at that time, was the very bean ideal of a rich farmer's wife. She
looked quite young in comparison with her husband, and possessed the remains
of a beauty that must have been formidable among courtiers of the royal
household, from which atmosphere the General had plucked her. How many
ladies thus transplanted, would not have carried with them the faded pomps
and ceremonies of their former sphere? Not so, however, with lady Spotswood.
No one could ever have imagined, that she had figured in her younger
days within the cold formalities of a courtly circle, for there was a whole
heartedness, a bon hommie of expression, a freedom of conversation in the
highest degree enthusiastic sometimes, which we, simple hearted republicans,
believe dies within the purlieus of the royal household. She seemed to enjoy
her company with the highest relish, and, of course, she entertained them with
ease.

At an opposite table sat her two daughters; Ann Catherine, the elder, by
the General called Kate, and Dorothea, the younger. The eldest of these
was about seventeen, and the other about two years younger. However much
we might lament the unromantic sound of their names, we cannot help it,
having previously pledged ourselves to adhere to the real ones. Sure we are,
that if we cannot interest our readers in them under their real, we could not
under fictitious ones. Being familiar with these, (aye, and with their characters,)
almost from our youth, we shall use the Governor's privilege, and
abbreviate them whenever we please.

[figure description] Page 004.[end figure description]

Kate, then, was a fair girl in every sense of the word, or, in other words,
she was a blonde. Light hair, dress, and every thing light; even her voice
and laughter seemed to indicate a light heart, and that is a very important
point upon which to assure our readers. But in all this field of white, there
were shades of most delicate tints; her eyes, though not white, were light
blue, and the lashes over them, fell down so low sometimes as to form a fine
shading for those laughing and rather mischievous, we should rather say
merry, looking eyes.

It is a dangerous thing, looking too deep into the color and texture of a
lady's eyes; they become very unfathomable, very, and have an aspect of
wounderful profundity; and the longer one looks, the deeper they get, until,
like looking down into the deep, deep sea, or the high blue arch above, we
begin to wonder at the heighth and depth. It is a kind of star gazing, which
may bewilder the brain as well as another.

Occasionally she would drop her needle and work, and clap her hands with
the most heartfelt delight at the sallies of the youth standing over her chair.
She was dressed with much simplicity, and her hair seemed to follow the
pyramidical fashion of the day with great reluctance, for here and there a
stray curl wandered down her pure white neck. The expression of her countenance
was rather arch, produced by a slight contraction of the outer angle
of the eye, and a constant dubiousness about her pouting lips, as if they did
not know their own intention, whether to laugh or not. On one side of her,
stood Bernard Moore; and on the other, sat the Rev. Commissary, Blair, who
will be described presently. Her changing countenance, as she turned to one
or the other, no doubt formed a pleasing study to the youth at least. One
while, all quivering with archness and pent up mischief, and the next moment
exhibiting the simplicity of childhood, as she caught the words that fell
from the lips of the excellent prelate. She was a fine, tall girl, and one who
performed whatever was in hand gracefully, it was impossible for her to be
awkward; all this did not seem the result of education, but appeared like
nature itself.

Dorothea was a full, round, plump little figure, not so tall as her sister, and
of a beauty not quite so spiritual, and differing from her in many essentials,
both of appearance and manners as well as character. Her hair was brown,
her eyes hazel, her cheeks red. She wore an apron with a bunch of keys
dangling at her side, giving one an idea of domestic operations, for which
she seemed to have a peculiar turn. She was slightly inclined to embonpoint,
yet a neat, tidy, trim, little figure.

Dorothea assigned to herself an humbler position than that allowed to her
more brilliant sister, but the assent to this was by no means universal in the
court circles. She was the favorite with many, and was in the habit of saying
sometimes very pungent things in her demure way. Not with the ease,
grace, and perfect self-possession of her sister, to be sure; but, perhaps, they
told better from popping out as unexpectedly to the hearers as the speaker.
She was a decided pet of the old gentleman, and was mostly to be found in
his wake, when he chose to throw off the cares and toils of official life, for the
more heart cheering enjoyments of the social circle. If no one else laughed at
her observations upon things and men, as they passed in review in such constant
rounds of society, he did; and it was no uncommon thing to see them
sitting quite apart from the company, she chatting away most volubly, and he
bursting every now and then into a laugh.

The two brothers were John and Robert—the former and elder of these
sat apart from the rest of the company dressed in the green uniform of the
Rangers, of which corps he was an officer. His arms were folded and he
did not seem to be at his ease. His face had a general resemblance to that of
the Governor and might once have been handsome, but it now bore the impress

[figure description] Page 005.[end figure description]

of early dissipation, and consequently of care and sorrow. The family
seemed to look upon him with pain and commiseration, if not of smypathy,
though it is questionable whether they understood exactly the cause of his general
moodishness. The Rangers, of which John was a Captain, were composed
of about twenty or thirty men each corps, and stationed at convenient
distances along the then circumscribed frontier, of the colony. He seemed
to consider his present position what it truly was, one of honorable exile;
consequently, he seized every opportunity to visit the capital. His presence
at the fireside circle, was by no means a common circumstance. The sort of
innocent gaiety that prevailed there at all times, had no charms for him. He
was there now in the performance of imperative military duty, which he dared
not disobey; he had ridden express to communicate with the Governor and
wait his orders concerning frontier matters—which indeed he had done some
time, and as it seemed to him without much chance of a speedy gratification
of his impatience, for no Governor appeared. Others in that little party
began to feel some surprise at his long absence, for the evening was now on
the wane.

The Rev. Commissary Blair, as many of our readers know, was then at the
head of William and Mary College, which was at that time as much a school
for christianizing the savages as for general purposes of education. He was
a hale, hearty, red faced old gentleman, dressed entirely in black velvet, with
ruffles at his wrists and broad shining silver buckles at his knees and shoes,
and much addicted to taking snuff, a box for which he carried often in his
hand. He was a lively old gentleman, though grave at times. On the present
occasion, he evidently enjoyed the merry sallies of Kate by whose side he
sat. Bernard Moore, the youth who stood on the opposite side of her
chair, had been but a few years emancipated from his government, consequently
he stood rather in awe of his old master, but still fully amenable to
the more lively impressions of his fair young friend. He will speak for
himself.

The youngest son of the Governor, Robert, was quite a lad, and therefore
to some extent, like all other lads, he was teazing his moodish brother after
the most approved fashion, where we will leave him for the present, while
we introduce some more of that company to our readers.

There was walking along the room a tall grey headed old man, of uncommonly
benevolent countenance and prepossessing appearance. His hair was
combed back from his high polished forehead and fell in long white locks upon
his coat collar. He was dressed very much after the same style as his friend
the Rev. Commissary, and at first sight might readily have been mistaken
for some venerable old father of the church. It was Dr. Evylin, the most
celebrated Physican of his day in the colony, and the bosom friend of his
excellency[3]. He stooped much in the shoulders, so as to give him the appearance
of greater age than he really was. He carried in his hand an ivory
headed cane almost as long as himself. Occasionally he stopped to hear a
few words of her ladyship, not addressed immediately to him, said a word or
two—shook his head perhaps—or smiled assent, and passed on. He was a
man of few words but much thought. No one could converse in the room
without feeling that he was present.

There were many others present at that snug little country fire-side party—
stowed away in one end of that old parlor, but it is needless to bewilder the
reader with them at present. The various parties were grouped as we have
described, when the door was thrown open by a man in livery and the Governor
entered. Nearly every one rose and bowed at his entrance, except his
youngest daughter, who, as usual, ran up and threw herself into his arms.

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He however gently put her away and threw himself abruptly into a vacant
chair, a proceeding so very unusual with him as to attract the particular
attention of every one in the room. It was now observed that his face was of
an ashy paleness, and her ladyship, who had approached and laid her hand upon
his arm, started back in terror as she observed a spot of blood upon his face.

The whole party now gathered around his chair in the utmost surprise, each
one enquiring what was the matter; some to the Governor in person and
others to those nearest him. He told them that it was nothing—a mere
scratch; but there was excitement, subdued it is true, but deep and intense
excitement in the countenance of the veteran, which these words by no means
allayed. He heeded them not however, but taking the arm of Dr. Evylin,
walked away in the direction of his library.