“Hardly so,” replied the Governor, “or he would probably acknowledge him openly as his son, without all this mystery. I have several times hinted at the subject to Mr. Hutchinson, but it seems to produce so much real sorrow, that I have never pushed my inquiries farther. All that I know is what I tell you, that my brother, in whose parish this Mr. Hutchinson long officiated as rector, recommended him to me—and the young man, who has been thoroughly educated by his patron, or guardian, by the same recommendation, has been made my private secretary.” “He is surely worthy to fill some higher post,” said Temple. “And he will not want my aid in building up his fortunes,” returned Berkeley; “but they have only been in the colony about six months as yet—and the young man has entwined himself about my heart like a son. My own bed, alas! is barren, as you know, and it seems that a kind providence had sent this young man here as a substitute for the offspring which has been denied to me. See Temple,” he added, in a whisper, “with what admiring eyes he regards your fair daughter. And if an old man may judge of such matters, it is with maiden modesty returned.” “I think that you are at fault,” said Temple, with a sigh; “my daughter's affections are entirely disengaged at present.” “Well, time will develope which of us is right. It would be a source of pride and pleasure, Harry, if I could live to see a union between this, my adopted boy, and the daughter of my early friend,” said the old Governor, as a tear glistened in his eye; “but come, Presley, the dancing has ceased for a time,” he added aloud, “favour the company with a song.” “Oh, damn it, Governor,” replied the old burgess, “my songs won't suit a lady's ear. They are intended for the rougher sex.” “Well, never fear,” said the Governor, “I will check you if I find you are overleaping the bounds of propriety.” “Very well, here goes then—a loyal ditty that I heard in old England, about five years agone, while I was there on a visit. Proclaim order, and join in the chorus as many as please.” And with a loud, clear, merry voice, the old burgess gave vent to the following, which he sung to the tune of the “Old and Young Courtier;” an air which has survived even to our own times, though adapted to the more modernized words, and somewhat altered measure of the “Old English Gentleman:”— “Young Charley is a merry prince; he's come unto his own, And long and merrily may he fill his martyred father's throne; With merry laughter may he drown old Nolly's whining groan, And when he dies bequeath his crown to royal flesh and bone. Like a merry King of England, And England's merry King.