since, Sir.” The stage drove to the door, and after hoping to see us at Mrs. Carter’s he took his leave, and this morning—(he was out all day yesterday)—I found him waiting in the breakfast room to see me. He introduced me to General Pinckney[44] and his family from Carolina,—Gen’l Pinckney, they say, is to be our next President. “_Mr. Bowne_,” said Gen’l Knox to Gen. P., “has done us the honor to come to the District of Maine for a bud to transplant in New York.” He was very polite and said “he must find us out in New York.” Only think, I never thought of the _wedding-cake_ when I was at Salem. You would laugh to hear “_Mrs. Bowne_” and “Miss Southgate” all in a breath—“How do you do, Miss Southgate?”—“I beg pardon, _Mrs. Bowne_,” and do it on purpose I believe; when I hear an old acquaintance call me “Mrs. Bowne” it really makes me stare at first, it sounds so very odd. Mr. B. will be in, in a moment—and if I don’t seal my letter, he will insist on seeing it, so love to all. I depend on finding letters at New Haven. I have a thousand things to say,—(some ladies enquire for Mrs. Bowne, so says the servant,—I’ll tell you who they are when I come up,)—Mrs. Bartlett and Alicia; they insist on our taking tea and spending the evening; we promised if we did not leave town after dinner that we would. Adieu, adieu. Mr. Bowne sends a great deal of love. Your affectionate sister, ELIZA BOWNE. [Illustration: THE LYMAN PLACE—WALTHAM ] New Haven, June 1, 1803.