be home to-day?

MRS. BLAND.

I said, perhaps.

2nd CHILD [_disappointed_].

Perhaps!

1st CHILD.

I don't like perhaps's.

2nd CHILD.

No, nor I neither; nor "may be so's."

MRS. BLAND.

We make not certainties, my pretty loves;
I do not like "perhaps's" more than you do.

2nd CHILD.

Oh! don't say so, Mama! for I'm sure I hardly ever ask you anything but
you answer me with "may be so," "perhaps,"--or "very likely." "Mama, shall
I go to the camp to-morrow, and see the General?" "May be so, my dear."
Hang "may be so," say I.

MRS. BLAND.

Well said, Sir Pertness.

1st CHILD.

But I am sure, Mama, you said, that, to-day, Papa would have his liberty.

MRS. BLAND.

So, your dear father, by his letters, told me.

2nd CHILD.

Why, then, I _am sure_ he will be here to-day. When he can come _to us_,
I'm sure he will not stay among those strange Englishmen and Hessians. I
often wish'd that I had wings to fly, for then I would soon be with him.

MRS. BLAND.

Dear boy!

_Enter SERVANT and gives a letter to MRS. BLAND._

SERVANT.

An express, madam, from New-York to Headquarters, in passing, delivered
this.

2nd CHILD.

Papa's coming home to-day, John.

[_Exeunt SERVANT and CHILDREN._

MRS. BLAND.

What fears assail me! Oh! I did not want
A letter now! [_She reads in great agitation, exclaiming, while her eyes
are fixed on the paper._]
My husband! doom'd to die! Retaliation!
[_She looks forward with wildness, consternation and horror._
To die, if Andre dies! He dies to-day!--
My husband to be murdered! And to-day!
To-day, if Andre dies! Retaliation!
O curst contrivance!--Madness relieve me!
Burst, burst, my brain!--Yet--Andre is not dead:
My husband lives. [_Looks at the letter._] "One man has power."
I fly to save the father of my children!

[_Rushes out._

_End of the Second Act._

ACT III.

SCENE, _the GENERAL'S Quarters._

_The GENERAL and BLAND come forward._

GENERAL [_papers in his hand_].

Captain, you are noted here with honourable
Praises. Depend upon that countenance
From me, which you have prov'd yourself so richly
Meriting. Both for your father's virtues,
And your own, your country owes you honour--
The sole return the poor can make for service.

BLAND.

If from my country ought I've merited,
Or gain'd the approbation of her champion,
At any oth