"Ay, ay, they'll do, won't they?--we'll have some fine fun--give the girls a party at George's Island--haymaking--green gowns--ha, ha, ha. I say, your captain shall give us a party at Turtle Cove. We are going to give the old commissioner a feed at the Rockingham--blow the roof of his skull off with champagne do you dine at Birch Cove to-day? No, I suppose you are engaged to Miss Maria, or Miss Susan, or Miss Isabella--ha, sad dog, sad dog--done a great deal of mischief," surveying me from head to foot. I took the liberty of returning him the same compliment; he was a tall raw-boned man, with strongly marked features, and a smile on his countenance that no modest woman could endure. In his person he gave me the idea of a discharged life-guardsman; but from his face you might have supposed that he had sat for one of Rubens' Satyrs. He was one of those people with whom you become immediately acquainted; and before I had been an hour in his company, I laughed very heartily at his jokes--not very delicate, I own, and for which he lost a considerable portion of my respect; but he was a source of constant amusement to me, living as we did in the same house. I was just going out of the room when he stopped me--"I say, how should you like to be introduced to some devilish nice Yankee girls, relations of mine, from Philadelphia? and I should be obliged to you to show them attention; very pretty girls, I can tell you, and will have good fortunes--you may go farther and fare worse. The old dad is as rich as a Jew--got the gout in both legs--can't hold out much longer--nice pickings at his money bags, while the devil is picking his bones." There was no withstanding such inducements, and I agreed that he should present me the next day. Our dialogue was interrupted by the master of the house and his son, who gave me a hearty welcome; the father had been a widower for some years, and his only son Ned resided with him, and was intended to succeed to his business as a merchant. We adjourned to dress for dinner; our bed-rooms were contiguous, and we began to talk of Sir Hurricane. "He is a strange mixture," said Ned. "I love him for his good temper; but I owe him a grudge for making mischief between me and Maria; besides, he talks balderdash before the ladies, and annoys them very much." "I owe him a grudge too," said I, "for sending me to sea in a gale of wind." "We shall both be quits with him before long," said Ned; "but let us now go and meet him at dinner. To-morrow I will set the housekeeper at him for his cruelty to her cat; and if I am not much mistaken, she will pay him off for it."