To my surprise, I saw among the guests an English lieutenant. I say “to my surprise,” for the other officers had gone of their own accord, or had been ordered to leave by the Committee of Safety. This one, and another, were, as I learned afterward, on their way through the town to join General Gage. There was evidently some dispute as to the cards. I heard high-pitched voices, and “spadille,” “basto,” “matador”--all the queer words of quadrille, their favoured game. The lieutenant was bending over Mrs. Perguson’s chair. He was a fellow I had seen before and never liked, a vulgar-featured man, too fat for his years, which may have been some twenty-eight. He played the best hand of all of them, and, as my aunt declared, that was quite enough; for the rest she could keep any man in order. I held back in the gloom of the hall, looking at their busy gaiety, and wondering what they would say to my news. As I went in I heard Woodville, the lieutenant, say, “The king--play the king, Mrs. Ferguson.” “No advice!” cried Mrs. Galloway. “But I am betting,” said he. “The king forever! We have won, madam. The king is always in luck.” I could not resist saying, “The king has lost, ladies.” My aunt turned, and knew I meant something. I suppose my face may have been more grave than my words. “What is it, Hugh?” “I have strange news, Aunt Gainor.” “News? and what?” As she spoke the talk ceased, and every one looked up. “There has been a fight at Lexington. Major Pitcairn is beat, and my Lord Percy. The farmers were all up to hinder them as they were on their way to seize our powder, and to take Mr. Hancock. The king has lost some three hundred men, and we under a hundred.” “Good heavens!” said Mr. Galloway. “But it cannot be true.” A pause came after, as I said there was no doubt of it. Dr. Franklin asked if I was sure. I said, “Yes; I have it of James Wilson, and the town is already in an uproar over it.” The great philosopher remained deep in thought a moment, while the women sat or stood in fear, or whispering excitement. At last he said he must go, and that it was the beginning of war, and welcome too. Then he bowed gravely and went out. As he left, the stillness which had prevailed for a time was broken. A dozen questions fell on me from all sides. I could only repeat my story, as Jack went by me to go out and hear, if possible, more of the news than I had to tell. At last Mr. Chew said thoughtfully, “If it be true, it is a sad business; but, really, how can it be, Hugh? How could a lot of farmers, without good arms and discipline, put to rout a body of trained men, well armed?” “I think,” said Galloway, “we shall have quite another version to-morrow. How does it strike you, Mr. Woodville?” “Oh, quite absurd,” said the officer. “You may reassure yourselves, ladies; such a loss, too, would be incredible, even in regular war. I think we may go on with our game, Mrs. Ferguson.” He was very pompous, but none seemed inclined to take his advice.