Madame did not find the winter pass comfortably. That road, now that matters were regularly settled, was no longer the constant resort of her military friends. Her favourite nieces were too engaging, and too much admired, to leave room to expect they should remain with her. She found her house comparatively cold and inconvenient, and the winter long and comfortless. She could not now easily go the distance to church. Pedrom, that affectionate and respected brother, was now, by increasing deafness, disqualified from being a companion; and sister Susan, infirm and cheerless, was now, for the most part, confined to her chamber. Under these circumstances, she was at length prevailed on to remove to Albany. The Flats she gave in lease to Pedrom’s son Stephen. The house and surrounding grounds were let to an Irish gentleman, who came over to America to begin a new course of life, after spending his fortune in fashionable dissipation. On coming to America, he found that there was an intermediate state of hardship and self-denial to be encountered, before he could enter on that fancied Arcadia which he thought was to be found in every wood. He settled his family in this temporary dwelling, while he went to traverse the provinces in search of some unforfeited Eden, where the rose had no thorn, and the course of ceaseless labour had not begun to operate. Madame found reason to be highly satisfied with the change. She had mills which supplied her with bread; her slaves cut and brought home fire-wood; she had a good garden and fruit, and every other rural dainty came to her in the greatest abundance. All her former protégés and friends, in different quarters, delighted to send their tribute; and this was merely an interchange of kindness.