the ladies were present; the most of the talking had been done by
young Van Cortlandt and certain young ladies, assisted by some
very gay young men and the general. Their chatter was funny, but
nothing more. Now a different air was on the group; different
subjects were discussed, and by different men, in a totally
different manner.

"We've stood just about all we can stand," said the governor,
alluding to an incident newly told, of a British frigate boarding
an American merchant vessel by force and carrying off half her
crew, under presence that they were British seamen in disguise.
"That's been going on for three years now. It's either piracy or
war, and, in either case, it's our duty to fight."

"Jersey's dead against war," said a legislator from down the river.

"Jersey always was dead against everything that was for the
national good, sir," said a red-faced, puffy, military man, with
a husky voice, a rolling eye, and a way of ending every sentence
in "sir."

"So is Connecticut," said another; "they say, 'Look at all our
defenceless coasts and harbour towns.'"

"They're not risking as much as New York," answered the
governor," with her harbours all the way up the Hudson and her
back door open to invasion from Canada."

"Fortunately, sir, Pennyslvania, Maryland, and the West have not
forgotten the glories of the past. All I ask -- is a chance to