This is an unpleasant subject to me.  I could gladly have passed it over, for it proves that the political association of this country failed in one of the greatest ends of all such associations;—­but nothing is ever gained by suppressing truth, on such a matter.  Let those who read reflect on the past:  it may possibly have a tendency to render the future more secure, giving to the American citizen in reality, some of those rights which it so much accords with our habits to boast of his possessing.  If concealment did any good, I would gladly be silent; but diseases in the body politic require a bold and manly treatment, even more than those in the physical system.  I remember the tone of the presses of the trading towns of this country on the subject of the late French treaty,—­one of the most flagitious instances of contempt, added to wrong, of which history supplies an instance, and will own I do not feel much encouraged to hope for any great improvement.

After we got rid of Colonel No. 2, Marble and I continued our walk.  We passed several persons of my acquaintance, but not one of them recognised me in my present attire.  I was not sorry to see this, as I was wearied of my story, and could gladly remain in a species of incognito, for a few days.  But, New York was comparatively a small town in 1804, and everybody knew almost everybody’s face who was anybody.  There was little real hope, therefore, of my escaping recognition for any great length of time.

We strolled up above St. Paul’s, then a high quarter of the town, and where a few houses had been erected in what was then a new and enlarged style.  On the stoop of one of these patrician residences—­to use a word that has since come much into use—­I saw a fashionably pressed man, standing, picking his teeth, with the air of its master.  I had nearly passed this person, when an exclamation from him, and his calling my mate by name, caused me to stop.  It was Rupert!

“Marble, my dear fellow, why, how fare you?” said our old ship-mate, descending the steps, with an indolent, half-cordial, half-condescending manner; extending his hand at the same time, which Moses received and shook heartily.—­“The sight of you reminds me of old times, and salt water!”

“Mr. Hardinge,” answered my mate, who knew nothing of Rupert’s defects, beyond his want of aptitude for the sea, “I’m heartily glad to fall in with you.  Do your father and handsome sister live here?”

“Not they, old Moses;” answered Rupert, still without casting his eyes on me.  “This is my own house, in which I shall be very happy to see you, and to make you acquainted with my wife, who is also an old acquaintance of yours—­Miss Emily Merton that was—­the daughter of Gen. Merton, of the British army.”

“Blast the British army! and blast the British navy, too!” cried Marble, with more feeling than manners.  “But for the last, our old friend Miles, here, would now be a rich man.”