[2] Macaroni—a dandy.
CHAPTER III—A GLIMPSE OF CLIFFORD
| “They rose in dark and evil days To right their native land; They kindled here a living blaze That nothing shall withstand. * * * * * “Then here’s their memory—may it be For us a guiding light, To cheer our strife for liberty, And teach us to unite.” —John Kells Ingram. |
When at length the two maidens started forth in the early afternoon they found that the news of the victory at the Cowpens was upon every tongue. The streets were filled with an eager, joyous crowd of people, all discussing the intelligence with mingled emotions of incredulity and delight. Slumbering patriotism awoke to new ardor, and despairing hearts thrilled anew with hope. From the depths of discouragement the pendulum swung to the other extreme, and all sorts of brilliant achievements were prophesied for the army in the South under Greene.
“How soberly they take the news,” observed Harriet as they passed a group of men who were quietly discussing the event. “See how gravely, almost sadly, those men are talking. In London we make a great ado when our soldiers win a victory.”
“But those are Friends, Harriet. See, thee can tell by their drab clothes and low, broad-brimmed beavers. And being such are therefore neutral. Neutrals do not rejoice at a Continental victory any more than—than some other people,” she added with roguish insinuation. “Those who are not of the sect are hilarious enough. Of a truth it doth seem as though their gladness verged on the unseemly.”
“That’s just it,” said the other accusingly. “You, and I doubt not many others in this city of Penn, think the least bit of exuberance a sin.”
“It hath not been so of late, Harriet. Indeed it doth seem as though, since thy people held the city, that we would never regain our old peacefulness.”
“I liked New York better than this,” went on the English girl peevishly. “There was so much more gayety.”