I thanked him, and went my way, making, however, no sign of grace, so that, on July 4 of this 1776, late in the evening, I received in my aunt’s presence a letter from Isaac Freeman, clerk of the Meeting, inclosing a formal minute of the final action of Friends in my case.
“What is that?” said Aunt Gainor, very cheerful over a letter of thanks to her for having sold at cost to the Committee of Safety the cloth of Holland and the blankets she had induced my father to buy for her. She had stored them away for this hour of need, and was now full of satisfaction because of having made my father the means of clothing the continental troops.
“Read it aloud. What is it, sir?” I was smiling over what a few years before would have cost me many a bitter thought.
“Give it me! What is it?” Then she put on a pair of the new spectacles with wire supports to rest on the ears. “Dr. Franklin gave me these new inventions, and a great comfort too. I cannot endure bridge glasses; they leave dents in one’s nose. You have not seen him lately. He was here to-day. You should see him, Hugh. He was dressed very fine in a velvet coat with new, shilling buttons, and bless me! but he has got manners as fine as his ruffles, and that is saying a good deal—Mechlin of the best. You would not know the man.”
With this she began to look at my letter. “Hoity-toity, sir! this is a fine setting down for a naughty Quaker.” And she read it aloud in a strong voice, her head back, and the great promontory of her nose twitching at the nostrils now and then with supreme contempt:
“‘To HUGH WYNNE: A minute, this Tenth-day of Sixth-month, 1776, from the
monthly Meeting of Friends held at Philadelphia.
“‘Whereas Hugh Wynne hath had his birth and education among Friends,
and, as we believe, hath been convinced of that divine principle which
preserves the followers thereof from a disposition to contend for the
asserting of civil rights in a manner contrary to our peaceful
profession, yet doth not manifest a disposition to make the Meeting a
proper acknowledgment of his outgoings, and hath further declared his
intention to continue his wrong-doing;
“‘Therefore, for the clearing of truth and our society, we give forth our
testimony against such breaches, and can have no unity with him, the said
Hugh Wynne, as a member of our society until he become sensible of his
deviations, and come to a sense of his error, and condemn the same to the
satisfaction of Friends; which is that we, as Christian men, desire.
“‘Signed in, and on behalf of, the Meeting by
“‘ISAAC FREEMAN,
“‘Clerk.’
“What insolent nonsense!” cried Miss Wynne. “I hope your father is satisfied. I assure you I am. You are free at last. Here was James Warder to-day with a like document to the address of my dear Jack. I was assured that it was a terrible disgrace. I bade him take snuff and not be any greater fool than nature had made him. He took my snuff and sneezed for ten minutes. I think it helped him. One can neither grieve nor reason when one is sneezing. It is what Dr. Rush calls a moral alterative. Whenever the man fell to lamenting, I gave him more snuff. I think it helped him. And so the baa-lambs of Meeting have disowned their two black sheep. Well, well! I have better news for you. Mr. Carroll was here just now, with his charming ways. One would think when he is talking that one is the only woman alive. If I thought the priests taught him the trick, I would turn papist. You should observe his bow, Hugh. I thought Mr. Chew’s bow not to be surpassed; but Mr. Carroll—oh, where was I?”
“Some good news,” I said.
“Yes, yes. He tells me the Congress this evening voted for a Declaration of Independence.”
“Indeed!” I cried. “So it has come at last. I, too, am free, and it is time I went away, Aunt Gainor.”