“I pity the boy! from my soul I pity him!” exclaimed the veteran, “he is a child, and has followed the current that is sweeping our unhappy colonies down the tide of destruction. There are others in that vessel who have no excuse of ignorance to offer. There is a son of my old acquaintance, and the bosom friend of my brother Harry, Cecilia's father, dashing Hugh Griffith, as we called him. The urchins left home together and were rated on board one of his majesty's vessels on the same day. Poor Harry lived to carry a broad pennant in the service, and Hugh died in command of a frigate. This boy, too! He was a nurtured on board his father's vessel, and learned, from his majesty's discipline, how to turn his arms against his king. There is something shockingly unnatural in that circumstance. Miss Alice, 'tis the child inflicting a blow on the parent. 'Tis such men as these, with Washington at their heads, who maintain the bold front this rebellion wears.” “There are men, who have never won the servile livery of Britain, sir, whose names are as fondly cherished in America as any that she boasts of,” said Katherine, proudly; “ay, sir, and those who would gladly oppose the bravest officers in the British fleet.” “I contend not against your misguided reason,” said Colonel Howard, rising with cool respect. “A young lady who ventures to compare rebels with gallant gentlemen engaged in their duty to their prince, cannot escape the imputation of possessing a misguided reason. No man--I speak not of women, who cannot be supposed so well versed in human nature--but no man who has reached the time of life that entitles him to be called by that name, can consort with these disorganizers, who would destroy everything that is sacred--these levellers, who would pull down the great, to exalt the little--these jacobins, who--who----” “Nay, sir, if you are at a loss for opprobrious epithets,” said Katherine, with provoking coolness, “call on Mr. Christopher Dillon for assistance; he waits your pleasure at the door.” Colonel Howard turned in amazement, forgetting his angry declamations at this unexpected intelligence, and beheld, in reality, the sombre visage of his kinsman, who stood holding the door in his hand, apparently as much surprised at finding himself in the presence of the ladies, as they themselves could be at his unusual visit. CHAPTER XI. “Prithee, Kate, let's stand aside, and see the end of this controversy.” _Shakspeare_. During the warm discussions of the preceding chapter, Miss Howard had bowed her pale face to the arm of the couch, and sat an unwilling and distressed listener to the controversy; but now that another, and one whom she thought an unauthorized, intruder on her privacy was announced, she asserted the dignity of her sex as proudly, though with something more of discretion, than her cousin could possibly have done. Rising from her seat, she inquired: