For her he cut silhouettes of mutual friends, and, on leaving the city, severed one of the buttons of his coat, which he playfully presented to her as a parting keepsake. Miss Rebecca Redman married Colonel Elisha Lawrence in December, 1779. Miss Margaret Chew, in whose honor Major André appeared with the motto “No rival,” was married on the ninth anniversary of the Meschianza to Colonel John Eager Howard, of Maryland. The Howards of Belvidere are a well-known Baltimore family, and this young man filled a prominent place in the war of the Revolution. He was present at the battle of White Plains, distinguished himself at Germantown, where so many of our heroes strove in vain to turn the tide of battle, served under Gates in the South, and at the battle of Cowpens decided the fortunes of the day by a successful bayonet charge. At one time, it is said, he held in his hands the swords of seven British officers of the Seventy-First Regiment. After the war he was Governor of Maryland and filled other public offices of importance. Surely, in this case, “the brave deserved the fair.” One of the most striking figures in this brilliant assemblage was Rebecca Franks, who was as celebrated for her ready wit as was Peggy Shippen for her exquisite beauty and grace. Handsome, witty, and an heiress, combining with these attractions that of being an ardent loyalist, it is not strange that Miss Franks was given a high place at the British revel. She won the affections of Colonel Sir Henry Johnson, who while in Philadelphia was quartered on Edward Penington, a leading Friend, living at the corner of Crown and Race Streets. The marriage took place January 17, 1782, and after the surrender of Yorktown Sir Henry and his bride sailed for England. Colonel Johnson was surprised at Stony Point on the night of July 15, 1779, by Wayne, and made prisoner with all his force. He afterwards distinguished himself in the Irish rebellion, and was created Baronet. Although Cornwallis speaks of Sir Henry as “a wrong-headed blockhead,” and thinks that he has been unduly praised, we are inclined to say that he who was willing to run the gauntlet of Miss Franks’s daring raillery must have been a brave man. She seems to have spared neither friend nor foe and her wit was always telling, whether flashing up in the quick rejoinder, “No; Britons, go home, you mean,” when Sir Henry Clinton ordered the band to play “Britons, Strike Home,” at a New York ball, or in her keen, sharp rebuff when Lieutenant-Colonel Jack Steward, of Maryland, after the evacuation of Philadelphia by the British, appeared before her in a fine suit of scarlet, saying, “I have adopted your colors, my Princess, the better to secure a courteous reception; deign to smile on a true knight.” To this speech Miss Franks made no reply, but, turning to the company who surrounded her, exclaimed, “How the ass glories in the lion’s skin!”