"'Tis glorious!" said she, dancing up and down the parlour before Tom and me. "This will be some relief from dulness, some consolation! The town will be full of gallant generals and colonels, handsome majors, dashing captains; there are lords and baronets among 'em; they'll be quartered in all the good houses; there will be fine uniforms, regimental bands, and balls and banquets! Why, I can quite endure this! War has its compensations. We'll have a merry winter of it, young gentlemen! Sure 'twill be like a glimpse of London." "And there'll be much opportunity for vain ladies to have their heads turned!" quoth Tom, half in jest, half in disapproval. "I know nothing of that," says she, "but I do know whose sister will be the toast of the British Army before a month is past!" If the king's troops acquired a toast upon entering New York, the rebels had gained a volunteer upon leaving it. One day, just before Washington's army fled, Tom Faringfield came to me with a face all amusement. "Who do you think is the latest patriot recruit?" cried he. It was our custom to give the rebels ironically their own denomination of patriots. "Not you nor I, at any rate," said I. "But one of the family, nevertheless." "Why, surely--your father has not--" "Oh, no; only my father's eldest." "Ned?" "Nobody else. Fancy Ned taking the losing side! Oh, 'fore God, it's true! He came home in a kind of uniform to-day, and told father what he had done; the two had a long talk together in private after that; and though father never shows his thoughts, I believe he really has some hopes of Ned now. The rebels made a lieutenant of him, on father's account. I wonder what his game is." "I make no doubt, to curry favour with his father." "Maybe. But perhaps to get an excuse for leaving town, and a way of doing so. I've heard some talk--they say poor Sally Roberts's condition is his work." "Very like. Your brother is a terrible Adonis--with ladies of a certain kind." "Not such an Adonis neither--at least the Adonis that Venus courted in Shakespeare's poem. Rather a Jove, I should say." We did not then suspect the depth of Mr. Ned's contrivance or duplicity. He left New York with the rebels, and 'twas some time ere we saw, or heard of, him again.