of her mind, which, after all, I myself knew little of save that it was sweet and generous.
But she seemed in no manner perturbed, waiting smilingly for the noise to quiet. Then she said:
“This is a toast that our poor tyrant-ridden countrymen may dare to offer at any banquet under any flag, and under the very cannon of New York.”
She stood still, absent-eyed, thinking for a moment; then, looking up at us:
“It is really two poems in one. If you read it straight across the page as it is written, then does it seem to be a boastful, hateful Tory verse, vilifying all patriots, even His Excellency — God forgive the thought!
“But in the middle of every line