Philip Winwood: A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces.Stephens, Robert Neilson
History
Philip Winwood: A Sketch of the Domestic History of an American Captain in the War of Independence; Embracing Events that Occurred between and during the Years 1763 and 1786, in New York and London: written by His Enemy in War, Herbert Russell, Lieutenant in the Loyalist Forces.
Stephens, Robert Neilson
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
"You must, Bert," put in Fanny, "or else you can't have me. 'Tis one
of papa's conditions."
"But," Phil went on, "in order that this unhappy child may become used
to the horrible idea of this marriage by degrees, she is to live with
your mother a few months while I carry you off on a trip for my
benefit and pleasure: and that's one of my conditions: for it wouldn't
do for you to go travelling about the country after you were married,
leaving your wife at home, and Fanny abominates travelling. But as
soon as you and I have seen a very little of this part of the world,
you're to be married and live happy ever after."
We had a memorable evening in our little parlour that night. 'Twas
like being home again, my mother said--thereby admitting inferentially
the homesickness she had refused to confess directly. The chief piece
of personal news the visitors brought was that the Rev. Mr. Cornelius
had taken a wife, and moved into our old house, which 'twas pleasant
to know was in such friendly hands; and that the couple considered it
their particular mission to enliven the hours of Mr. and Mrs.
Faringfield, with whom they spent half their time.
Philip's first month in England was spent in exploring London,
sometimes with me, sometimes alone, for 'tis needless to say in whose
society I chose to pass much of my time. What sights he saw; what
unlikely corners he sought out because some poet had been born, or
died, or drunk wine there; what streets he roamed: I am sure I never
could tell. I know that all the time he kept eyes alert for a certain
face, ears keen for a certain name; but neither in the streets, nor at
the shops, nor in the parks, nor at the play, did he catch a glimpse
of Margaret; nor in the coffee-house, or tavern, or gaming-place, or
in the region of the clubs, did he hear a chance mention of the name
of Falconer. And so, presently, we set about making the tour he had
spoken of.
There was a poor family of Long Island loyalists named Doughty, that
had settled in the seacoast town of Hastings in Sussex, in order that
they might follow the fisheries, which had been their means of
livelihood at home. Considering that a short residence in the more
mild and sunny climate of the Channel might be a pleasant change for
my mother, and not disagreeable to Fanny, we arranged that, during the
absence of Phil and me, we should close our cottage, and the ladies
should board with these worthy though humble people, who would afford
them all needful masculine protection. Having seen them comfortably
established, we set forth upon our travels.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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