man who had shown that the Prince of Wales was lacking in filial reverence.

Lord George read :

I have received, with sentiments of the deepest concern, the communication which Lord George Germain has made me, of the unfortunate results of the operations in Virginia. I particularly lament it on account of the consequences connected with it and the difficulties which it may produce in carrying on the public business, or in repairing such a misfortune. But I trust that neither Lord George Germain, nor any member of the cabinet, will suppose that it makes the smallest alteration in those principles of my conduct, which have directed me in past time, and which will always continue to animate me under every event, in the prosecution of the present contest."

As Lord George laid down the letter, he remarked: "You will note, gentlemen, that there is not a sentiment of despondency or of despair to be found in the letter; the very handwriting indicates composure of mind."

He passed the letter to Mr. Wraxall, and it went from hand to hand.

The next day, as Lord Germain had predicted, all London heard the news, unwelcome to many, but welcomed by others.

Parliament met on the twenty-seventh. Fox, Burke, Sheridan, Thomas Pitt, the youthful William Pitt, and the other speakers on the Liberal side, assailed the ministry and the war in the most vehement manner. To make a military simile, the Tory infantry formed a hollow square and, with extended bayonets, met the charge of the Liberal cavalry. The Liberal weapons were not of shining steel, but eloquent tongues inspired by a love of liberty. The only result of the first day's battle of words was to reduce Lord North's majority to fifty-four. The battle was waged from day to day until, upon a question, the House divided and the ministry was saved by a single vote.

Lord North and his colleagues were obdurate and defiant, for they were supported by the most obstinate of kings, and the end did not come until after twenty days had been spent in wrangling discussions and hot debates. Then Gen. Conway, who, seventeen years before, had moved the repeal of the Stamp Act, introduced a resolve: "That it is inexpedient to further attempt to reduce the rebellious American Colonies by force of arms.”

Cries of "Question! Question!" came from the benches. The House divided, and the motion was declared to be carried by a majority of nineteen. By this vote the American Rebellion became a Revolution and "rebels" were transformed into "patriots."

When the result was announced, the vaulted roof rang with plaudits of the members, and the echoes must have been heard at Westminster. Notwithstanding the lateness of the hour-it was after one o'clock in the morning -news of the decision was at once sent to his majesty at the Queen's House.

Conway followed up his first victory by another which was even more pronounced. He moved an address to the throne, soliciting the sovereign to stop the prosecution of any further hostilities against the revolted Colonies for the purpose of reducing them to obedience by force. The motion was carried without a division, the address being presented by the whole House.

The next day, Burke sent a full account of the proceedings to Dr. Franklin at Paris. He wrote:

The result is a harbinger of peace. The motion was the declaration of two hundred and thirty-four members, but it was the opinion, I think, of the whole House.

"W1

CHAPTER XXVIII

A POSTPONED WEDDING

ILFRID!"

"Frances!"

The gentle closing of a door denoted the quick exit of the marquise who, with true womanly delicacy, left the happy pair to their own little world.

It is entirely unnecessary to intrude upon the privacy of these lovers who had been parted so long by circumstances over which they had no control. Suffice it to say that time did not hang heavily upon their hands and a recapitulation by both, of the many vicissitudes through which they had passed consumed most of the time for the next two days, and it was with reluctance that they even spared time for their meals.

The marquise, in the interim, had been presented to Wilfrid, and was very favorably impressed. In a brief opportunity, having Frances alone, she said:

"My dear, you should be a happy girl. I think Mr. Shelby is lovely, in every way, and I heartily congratulate you in your choice of a husband."

Frances threw her arms about her friend and kissed her affectionately. "I am so glad you like him," she said. "He deserves all the good you can say of him."

The reuniting of this strangely separated pair had taken place at the residence of the marquise in Paris, to which place they had come from Normandy on receipt

of a letter by Frances, from Wilfrid, who stated that during the fitting out of a fleet to be commanded by Com. John Paul Jones, he should have two weeks' leisure and wished that they might meet him in Paris.

"The time is short," said Wilfrid, "for by the middle of August our repairs will be completed, and I have given my word to Commodore Jones that I will be on hand to sail with him.”

Their marriage, of course, was the theme uppermost in their minds, and Wilfrid pressed its immediate consummation with his whole heart.

"Your uncle is dead," he said, “and I wish the right to protect you."

There was only one thing which to Frances seemed a great obstacle. She desired her parents' consent, as she hoped sincerely that their marriage would end the terrible Kentucky feud existing between the families of Fentress and Shelby.

"But you are all alone in a strange country, my dear," said Wilfrid, "and now that I have you, I mean to keep you. Much as I desire to aid my country in its fight for liberty, I will even give up that ambition to be with you and shield you."

There was much to be said on both sides, and Frances was in a great quandary at this crisis in her life.

"I'll tell you," cried Wilfrid. "Let us ask our good friend Doctor Franklin who, I am sure, will settle it to our satisfaction."

They immediately sought the doctor at the Little House.

"We have come, uncle," said Frances, "to get your advice on a matter of great moment to us."

"It is yours for the asking," said Dr. Franklin, and

the two young people gave their views in regard to the matter.

“I want to attain the object of my life," said Wilfrid, "and make Frances my wife. I also want to give my services to my country, but as I cannot do both at this time, what would you advise?"

"Here is one instance," said the good doctor, as he looked smilingly at the two youthful people before him, "where it is impossible for me to do as you wish. I am sorry. As you say, it is a great question, but you alone must decide it."

Wilfrid went towards Frances, and taking both her hands in his said: "Dear, which shall it be? You must decide."

Frances looked into his face, hoping to read therein his wishes. Then she looked at the doctor, but from neither did she get any satisfaction to aid her in her decision. She glanced at the floor for a moment, then said: "Wilfrid, you must rejoin your vessel and fight for your country," and then fell sobbing into Wilfrid's

arms.

Thus it was decided, and they each sent letters to their homes in Kentucky, giving full particulars as to their situation and desires.

Frances wrote to her father the good fortune that had befallen her through her acquaintance with the Marquise de Ferdieu. "Wilfrid and I," she concluded her letter, "should like to return home to Kentucky and be married. Wilfrid wishes to see his father before he dies, and I wish to see you and mother. But we shall not come home unless Wilfrid's father and you give us a solemn promise that the Shelby-Fentress feud will be ended by our marriage.'

The happy days fled too quickly. When the time