Such were the opinions captain Willoughby entertained of his native land; a land he had not seen in thirty years, and one in which he had so recently inherited unexpected honours, without awakening a desire to return and enjoy them.  His opinions were right in part, certainly; for they depended on a law of nature, while it is not improbable they were wrong in all that was connected with the notions of any peculiarly manly quality, in any particular part of christendom.  No maxim is truer than that which teaches us “like causes produce like effects;” and as human beings are governed by very similar laws all over the face of this round world of ours, nothing is more certain than the similarity of their propensities.

Maud had no smiles, beyond those extracted by her naturally sweet disposition, and a very prevalent desire to oblige, for any of the young soldiers, or young civilians, who crowded about her chair, during the Albany winter mentioned.  Two or three of colonel Beekman’s military friends, in particular, would very gladly have become connected with an officer so much respected, through means so exceedingly agreeable; but no encouragement emboldened either to go beyond the attention and assiduities of a marked politeness.

“I know not how it is,” observed Mrs. Willoughby, one day, in a tete-a-tete with her husband; “Maud seems to take less pleasure than is usual with girls of her years, in the attentions of your sex.  That her heart is affectionate—­warm—­even tender, I am very certain; and yet no sign of preference, partiality, or weakness, in favour of any of these fine young men, of whom we see so many, can I discover in the child.  They all seem alike to her!”

“Her time will come, as it happened to her mother before her,” answered the captain.  “Whooping-cough and measles are not more certain to befall children, than love to befall a young woman.  You were all made for it, my dear Willy, and no fear but the girl will catch the disease, one of these days; and that, too, without any inoculation.”

“I am sure, I have no wish to separate from my child”—­so Mrs. Willoughby always spoke of, and so she always felt towards Maud—­“I am sure, I have no wish to separate from my child; but as we cannot always remain, it is perhaps better this one should marry, like the other.  There is young Verplanck much devoted to her; he is everyway a suitable match; and then he is in Evert’s own regiment.”

“Ay, he would do; though to my fancy Luke Herring is the far better match.”

“That is because he is richer and more powerful, Hugh—­you men cannot think of a daughter’s establishment, without immediately dragging in houses and lands, as part of the ceremony.”

“By George, wife of mine, houses and lands in moderation, are very good sweeteners of matrimony!”

“And yet, Hugh, I have been very happy as a wife, nor have you been very miserable as a husband, without any excess of riches to sweeten the state!” answered Mrs. Willoughby, reproachfully.  “Had you been a full general, I could not have loved you more than I have done as a mere captain.”