air, though fresh, was heavily saturated with perfume.
Between each window, and higher up, small, square loop-holes pierced the
solid walls. The wooden flap-hoods of these were open; through them
poured the fresh night air, stirring the clustered flowers and the
jewelled aigrets in the ladies' hair.

The spectacle was pretty, even beautiful; at every lady's cover lay a
gift from the patroon, a crystal bosom-glass, mounted in silver
filigree, filled with roses in scented water; and, at the sight, a gust
of hand-clapping swept around the table, like the rattle of December
winds through dry palmettos.

In a distant corner, slaves, dressed fancifully and turbaned like
Barbary blackamoors, played on fiddles and guitars, and the music was
such as I should have enjoyed, loving all melody as I do, yet could
scarcely hear it in the flutter and chatter rising around me as the
ladies placed the bosom-bottles in their stomachers and opened their
Marlborough fans to set them waving all like restless wings.

Yet, under this surface elegance and display, one could scarcely choose
but note how everywhere an amazing shiftlessness reigned in the
patroon's house. Cobwebs canopied the ceiling-beams with their silvery,
ragged banners afloat in the candle's heat; dust, like a velvet mantle,
lay over the Dutch plates and teapots, ranged on shelves against the
panelled wall midway 'twixt ceiling and unwaxed floor; the gaudy yellow
liveries of the black servants were soiled and tarnished and ill
fitting, and all wore slovenly rolls, tied to imitate scratch-wigs, the
effect of which was amazing. The passion for cleanliness in the Dutch
lies not in their men folk; a Dutch mistress of this manor house had
died o' shame long since--or died o' scrubbing.

I felt mean and ungracious to sit there spying at my host's table, and
strove to forget it, yet was forced to wipe furtively spoon and fork
upon the napkin on my knees ere I durst acquaint them with my mouth; and
so did others, as I saw; but they did it openly and without pretence of
concealment, and nobody took offence.

Sir Lupus cared nothing for precedence at table, and said so when he
seated us, which brought a sneer to Sir John Johnson's mouth and a scowl
to Walter Butler's brow; but this provincial boorishness appeared to be
forgotten ere the decanters had slopped the cloth twice, and fair faces
flushed, and voices grew gayer, and the rattle of silver assaulting
china and the mellow ri