ahogany and soiled cloth.

Captain McDonald rose, lifted the steaming kettle from the hob, and set
it on a great, blue tile, and the gentlemen mixed their spirits
thoughtfully, or lighted long, clay pipes.

The patroon, wreathed in smoke, lay back in his great chair and rattled
his toddy-stick for attention--an unnecessary noise, for all were
watching him, and even Walter Butler's gloomy gaze constantly reverted
to that gross, red face, almost buried in thick tobacco-smoke, like the
head of some intemperate and grotesquely swollen Jupiter crowned
with clouds.

The plea of the patroon for neutrality in the war now sweeping towards
the Mohawk Valley I had heard before. So, doubtless, had those present.

He waxed pathetic over the danger to his vast estate; he pointed out the
conservative attitude of the great patroons and lords of the manors of
Livingston, Cosby, Phillipse, Van Rensselaer, and Van Cortlandt.

"What about Schuyler?" I asked.

"Schuyler's a fool!" he retorted, angrily. "Any landed proprietor here
can become a rebel general in exchange for his estate! A fine bargain! A
thrifty dicker! Let Philip Schuyler enjoy his brief reign in Albany.
What's the market value of the glory he exchanged for his broad acres?
Can you appraise it, Sir John?"

Then Sir John Johnson arose, and, for the only moment in his career, he
stood upon a principle--a fallacious one, but still a principle; and for
that I respected him, and have never quite forgotten it, even through
the terrible years when he razed and burned and murdered among a people
who can never forget the red atrocities of his devastations.

Glancing slowly around the table, with his pale, cold eyes contracting
in the candle's glare, he spoke in a voice absolutely passionless, yet
which carried the conviction to all that what he uttered was
hopelessly final:

"Sir Lupus complains that he hazards all, should he cast his fortunes
with his King. Yet I have done that thing. I am to-day a man with a
price set on my head by these rebels of my own country. My lands, if not
already confiscated by rebel commissioners, are occupied by rebels; my
manor-houses, my forts, my mills, my tenants' farms are held by the
rebels and my revenues denied me. I was confined on parole within the
limits of Johnson Hall. They say I broke my parole, but they lie. It was
only when I had certain news that the Boston rebels were coming to seize
my person and violate a sacred convention tha