Brunswick, June 13th, 1782.
“SIR,—After three months’ test, I can assure your Excellency that it is possible to very materially if not entirely check the illicit trade with New York, but only by the constant employment of a considerable force of men in a service at once fatiguing to them and irritating to the neighbourhood. I would therefore suggest, in place of these purely repressive measures, that others which will at once bring to justice those most deeply concerned in the trade, and terrify by example those who are only occasionally guilty, be employed, and therefore beg to submit for your consideration the following plan of action.
Shoving the paper to one side, Brereton took a fresh sheet, and wrote a hurried letter, which, when sealed, he addressed to “Lady Washington, Headquarters at Greenwood Manor.” This done, he finished his official letter, and going to the rows of tents on the green, he delivered the two into the hands of an officer, with an order to ride with them at once.
On the following day a coach drew up in front of the Continental Tavern, and with much dignity a negro in livery alighted from the seat beside the driver.
“You will deliber Lady Washington’s an’ my deferential complimen’s to Miss Janice Meredith; likewise dis letter from his Excellency,” he said grandly to the tavern-keeper.
“Waal, of all airs fer a nigger!” snorted mine host. “Duz his Excellency run yer jobs fer yer ter hum? Guess yer ain’t so fat, be yer, that yer keant carry that inter the settin’-room yerself.”
With a glance of outraged dignity that should have annihilated the publican, the man went across the hall, and after a knock, entered.
“Why, Billy!” exclaimed Janice, starting up from her chair, her arm outstretched.
The intense dignity melted away in a breath, and the darky chuckled and slapped himself with delight as he took the hand. “Der, now!” he cried, “I dun assure her Ladyship dat Missy would remember Billy. Here am a letter from his Excellency, Miss.”
Opening it, Janice read it out to her father:—