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armies met each other with marks of the greatest reciprocal satisfaction.

The council in France had directed, that if the enemy should evacuate New York and Charleston, or either of those places, General Rochambeau should embark his army for Saint Domingo, under the orders of a general officer, to be delivered over to M. de Galves, a Spanish lieutenant-general, who commanded the troops of the two nations, intended for a combined operation. All our information stated the immediate evacuation of Charlestown; and the march of the French army from Virginia to the North River rendered it easy to execute the orders of the council. I communicated my instructions to M. de Vaudreuil, and informed him that I was ready to lead the army to Boston, whenever he should be ready to take it on board, M. de Vaudreuil answered, that his squadron could not be prepared before the end of November, and that he could not transport more than four thousand men, comprising the officers and their suite. I proposed to the Baron de Viomenil, and his brother, to take charge of the two brigades of infantry, and a part of the artillery, and conduct them to their destination. I left the corps of Lauzun, with the heavy artillery which was still at Baltimore, and I confided to the Duke de Lauzun the command of that part of the French troops which remained in America, subject to the orders of General Washington.

At the period of the march of the French troops from Crampond, there happened between me and an American captain of militia, whose habitation I occupied as quarters, an affair, pleasantly characteristic of republican freedom. He came to ask from me, on the evening before the departure of the troops, a sum of fifteen thousand francs, (three thousand dollars) for wood which the brigade of Soissonnois

had burnt on his property. I found
the demand exorbitant, and referred
him to the commissary Villemanzy,
who was charged with the settlement
of all accounts for articles consumed
by the army throughout the camp. At
the moment of beginning the march,
the next day, when the roll had been
beaten, and the troops were under arms,
a man approached me with a very
complaisant air, and told me that he
was not ignorant of the services which
I had rendered his country, that he
respected me greatly, but that he was
obliged to do his duty. He then served
me with a paper, and afterwards laid
his hand gently on my shoulder, tell-
ing me at the same time, that I was his
prisoner. "Well, sir," said I, laugh-
ing, "take me away if you can." "Not
so, your excellency," answered the
sheriff; "but I beg of you, now that I
have performed my duty, to let me go
off

unmolested." I sent the commissary
Villemanzy to the house of the Ameri-
can captain, and he found him in a
crowd of his countrymen, who were
all upbraiding him, in the sharpest
terms, for his proceeding. The com-
missary agreed with him to submit the
matter to arbitration; and the result
was, that the captain had to pay the costs,
and to content himself with two thou-
sand,instead of fifteen thousand francs.

Thearmy on its march passed through the whole of Connecticut. Governor Trumbull, and his council, issued a proclamation, requesting their fellowcitizens not to raise the price of provisions during our passage, and the inhabitants seconded his views with se much generosity, that every mess of soldiers obtained at a very low price, in addition to their ordinary rations, all kinds of provisions. The army arrived at Providence, where it was detained by some new accident happening to the squadron of M. de Vaudreuil, and remained in barracks during the rest of November.

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AMERICAN HISTORY.

I have not mentioned the multitude of addresses from all the towns and general assemblies of the states of America, presented to me, containing uniformly, the warmest acknowledgment of their obligations to France. I will cite but one of these addresses. A deputation from the Quakers of Philadelphia waited on me, in all the sim"General," plicity of their costume.

said the oldest of them to me, "it is not on account of thy military qualities that we make thee this visit those we hold in little esteem; but thou art the friend of mankind, and thy army conducts itself with the utmost order and discipline. It is this which induces us to tender thee our respects."

At length the army embarked at Boston, early in December, with the universal benedictions of our allies throughout the Thirteen States. I may mention as a proof of the wonderful discipline of this army, that

during the course of three campaigns, there was not a blow nor a quarrel between a French and an American soldier.

I was obliged to return with the Chevalier de Chatelus, M. de Belleville, M. de Choisy, all the staff, and our respective aides-de-camp, to meet the frigate which I had selected to convey us to France. It was in the Chesapeake bay, as I had not chosen to deprive M. de Vaudreuil of any of his vessels, in which he was obliged to crowd all that he could embark of the army.

In returning to Virginia, we passed It was there that by New Windsor, where General Washington was. we took an affectionate farewell, and that I received from the Americanarmy, as did all the officers who accompanied me, the sincerest assurances of perpetual remembrance.

THE DISCARDED PRODIGAL;

OR,

A CURE FOR COQUETTES,,

A TALE.

"COME along, mine ancient, come along," cried a slight, handsome, pale young man, dragging an old, florid, grey headed servant into the coffeeroom of a country inn, "this is the life I love, sixty miles in eight hours, horses smoking, post-boys smacking their thongs, and your-honouring' us for an odd shilling, and then a bustling, clattering, bell-ringing inn." "But zooks, Master Wildwood," said the venerable domestic, "my bones are jolted almost out of joint." "What signifies," cried Wildwood, clapping the other down on a chair, "since they are snugly landed in an inn again? Oh, the sign-post beyond the portico for ever! No formalities of a regular family here: No praising the dinner till it has grown cold, or the daughter while she is spoiling the piano. Here the host himself takes the trouble of praising off my hands'; and when I damn the waiter, he thanks me. Then quick steps, smiling faces, smoking dishes, and coming, sir.' What more can I want, old gravity?"

66 Money, Master Wildwood, money," replied the old man; “you ha'nt even enough to pay the waiter, after damning him."

"Ay, Verity," retorted the youth, "and you generally take care to let him know it too. If I but order a chicken instead of a chop, you feel no more compunction in exposing my poverty, than if I had bespoken an anniversary dinner to the memory of twenty dead aldermen."

"Because," said Verity, "you feel no more compunction in bragging, and calling consequentially about you, than if you were owner of a fee-simple estate that could not be galloped round in a month."

The waiter now entered with a small portmanteau, and begged to know whether that was all the luggage belonging to the chaise."

"Harkee, friend," said Wildwood, "the moment the coach comes in, be sure to enquire for my trunks."

"Never heed him, waiter," interrupted Verity. "That portmanteau contains his all in this world."

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Young gentleman," answered the old man dryly, "'tis you who expose yourself."

"And who are you, sirrah, that you should presume to meddle with my affairs? Are you my friend?" "I am."

"'Tis false! You are my servant." "I am not; but I, was servant to your father, sir, and to your grandfather, sir; and my favourite daughter nursed you, sir; and when old Mr Wildwood discarded you, I forgot that I was eighty years of age, and followed you through the world, with affection and fidelity. Now, sir, am 1 your servant?”

"No, but my friend, my benefactor," exclaimed Wildwood, grasping his hand," and my all but father."

"Ay, father," said Verity, "'tis time to talk about him, methinks, now that we are within half a mile of his house."

"Well, and what will you say to him of me?" asked the other; "for you know I can say nothing to him myself, since his last letter forbade me ever entering his house.",

"Lookee, master, I will say to him, sir, you remember your old butler, Verity, who never told a lie in his life. I have come down here with your son, Harry, to solicit your reconciliation with him."

"A good beginning, old boy," said Wildwood; "what next?"

"You left him after you in Eng, land, says I, when he was but five years old, went out to India, married a widow there, and brought home a step-son."

66 Excellent," "cried Wildwood; "a step-son, that is a home-thrust. But go on."

"Now, sir, continues I, that stepson, I suspect, has poisoned your mind against Master Wildwood, and so effectually too, that though you and all your family have now been two years in England, you have never suffered him inside your doors; and if you met him in the street to-mor row, you would no more know his face than the off-side face of the man in the moon."

"An admirable preface, upon my soul," cried Wildwood.

"Therefore, sir, says I, you are an unnatural father."

"Confound me, if you shall say that, though!" exclaimed Wildwood. "Confound me if I don't, though," replied Verity. "The truth is the truth"

"At least," said Wildwood, "you wont tell him that I am an unnatural son."

Verity coughed. "Master Harry," said he, "I never told but one lie in my life, and that was the day my wife died, my poor wife, as the saying is." "Then the falsehood was about her, I suppose," said Wildwood.

"It was," answered Verity. "A meddling neighbour asked me if I felt grieved at her death, and so I bragged about my sorrow consumedly."

"Pray then, dear Verity," said the other, "brag consumedly for me." "The truth is the truth," replied the old man, "and the truth will tell."

"What," cried Wildwood," tell that I am a drinking, gambling, squandering profligate, with nothing on

earth but a portmanteau and a few cravats ?"

"Even that a'nt the whole truth," replied Verity, with the most austere composure.

"'Sdeath, what more can you tell him?" cried the youth, starting into a blaze of passion,-" What more can you tell him, you vile, precise, hardhearted old blockhead?"

"I can tell him," said the other, in a determined tone," that though dissipated, you are not depraved; that though boastful, you are not dishonourable; that the beggar shares your purse, when you have any thing in it, as well as the gambler, and that your vices are the result of your never have ing lived under the guardianship of a parent, while your virtues are the genuine offspring of your own heart. This, sir, is the whole truth, and this I will tell him, though I die by it." "Die!" cried Wildwood, hugging him with an Herculean grasp. "Die! Zounds, you shall live these thousand years; and you are enough to make any one in love with truth. Oh, I I shall get such a trick of truth-telling some time or other!"

"And then, indeed, you will reward me," replied Verity, disenga ging himself.

Then? I will reward you now," exclaimed the other. "Waiter,-ay, ay, I will reward you. Waiter, I say, -ay, ay, I can be grateful, old boy; -why, waiter, waiter!"

The waiter entered. "Two bottles of claret, waiter; two bottles of the best claret."

"Yes, sir," said the waiter. "No, sir," said Verity. "This young gentleman may order claret, and drink it too; but I'm a young gentleman myself if he can pay for it." The waiter giggled, and was retiring.

66

Bring the claret, you grinning jackanapes," exclaimed the youth.

"We-we have none, sir," said Corkscrew, and left the room.

"Quit my presence this instant, and for ever!" exclaimed Wildwood. "This instant I will, sir," said Verity, "or you would certainly break my head; but not for ever, sir, because you would certainly call me back again before I was half way down the street." And the old man hobbled away.

"But for that dotard's cursed conscientious proclamation of my poverty every where," mused Wildwood, pacing the room, "I should, by this time, either have retrieved my affairs altogether; or, at least, have involved myself in debt to something of a decent and fashionable amount. But only fifty pounds due here, and only twenty pounds due there; and only

how I hate only !—and only a thousand pounds due in all,-'tis a dastardly sum, and if I went to the King's Bench for it, would ruin my credit completely. A man who cannot afford to run at least twenty thousand pounds in debt, is fit for nothing bet ter than living within bis means."

This reverie was interrupted by the entrance of a lean sallow-faced young man, dressed in the last extremity of fashion, and enquiring of the waiter if any parcel had come down for him in the coach? The waiter answered in the negative.

"Then you are a decided block. head," said the other.

"I, sir?" cried the waiter. "Why, what have I to do with the business?"

"How should I know?" retorted the youth; "'tis quite sufficient that I have taken an aversion to your face; so begone-carry it out."

"Gad, with great pleasure, sir," replied Corkscrew; " of two bad things, one should always leave the worst behind;" and off he went.

"Now, that fellow," thought Wildwood, examining the new comer,

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