“And so he thinks he has found a divinity, does:  he?” I overheard her saying:  “I, for one, am heartily sick of Dr. Courtenay’s motions.  Were he, to choose, a wench out of the King’s passengers I’d warrant our macaronies to compose odes to her eyebrows.”  And at that moment perceiving me she added, “Why so disconsolate, my dear nephew?  Miss Dolly is the craze now, and will last about as long as another of the doctor’s whims.  And then you shall have her to yourself.”

“A pretty woman is ever the fashion, Aunt Caroline,” I said.

“Hoity-toity,” returned my aunt, who had by then succeeded in getting her head-gear safe within; “the fashion, yes until a prettier comes along.”

“There is small danger of that for the present,” I said, smiling:  “Surely you can find no fault with this choice!”

“Gadzooks!  If I were blind, sir, I think I might!” she cried unguardedly.

“I will not dispute that, Aunt Caroline,” I answered.

And as I rode off I heard her giving directions in no mild tone to the coachman through Mr. Allen.

Perchance you did not know, my dears, that Annapolis had the first theatre in all the colonies.  And if you care to search through the heap of Maryland Gazettes in the garret, I make no doubt you will come across this announcement for a certain night in the spring of the year 1769: 

By Permission of his Excellency, the Governor,
at the New Theatre in Annapolis,
by the American Company of Comedians, on Monday
next, being the 22nd of this Instant, will be performed

Romeo and Juliet.

(Romeo by a young Gentleman for his Diversion.)
Likewise the Farce called

Miss in her teens.

To begin precisely at Seven of the Clock.  Tickets
to be had at the Printing Office.  Box 10s.  Pit 1s 6d. 
No Person to be admitted behind the Scenes.

The gentleman to perform Romeo was none other than Dr. Courtenay himself.  He had a gentlemanly passion for the stage, as was the fashion in those days, and had organized many private theatricals.  The town was in a ferment over the event, boxes being taken a week ahead.  The doctor himself writ the epilogue, to be recited by the beautiful Mrs. Hallam, who had inspired him the year before to compose that famous poem beginning: 

          “Around her see the Graces play,
          See Venus’ Wanton doves,
          And in her Eye’s Pellucid Ray
          See little Laughing Loves. 
          Ye gods!  ’Tis Cytherea’s Face.”

You may find that likewise in Mr. Green’s newspaper.

The new theatre was finished in West Street that spring, the old one having proven too small for our gay capital.  ’Twas then the best in the New World, the censor having pronounced it far above any provincial playhouse he had seen abroad.  The scenes were very fine, the boxes carved and gilded in excellent good taste, and both pit and gallery commodious.  And we, too, had our “Fops’ Alley,” where our macaronies ogled the fair and passed from box to box.