Hope Plant'n did ask for Emily's Hand. Alas,
'Tis even as my Fears foretold! Shee loves me Not. 'Tis Richard
alone hath her Heart.

"I do Fear Shee will sup Sorrow & drink Tears that setts her
Affection upon the Unstable. Shee's too Mild, too Tender, hath not a
Firm enough Hand to restrain him. He should een have ta'en Madame
Jezebel. Hath a Grand Passion for him. Will not lightly wear the
Willow."

* * * * *

"This Day did Richard my Brother Wed Emily Hope," he records, after
a six-months' silence. "All say 'tis a most Noble Mating. My Mother
in a Gown from London Town, & our Finest Gems, enow to make a
Dutchess envious of a Carolina Lady. My Father in high Spiritts.

"I danc'd with the Bridesmaids, but Salut'd not the Bride, the Which
noted Madame Jezebel. Was Handsomer than ever I did See her, many
thinking her Handsomer than the Bride. Had a great Following, the
which the Hussy treat'd with Disdain.

"'Have you Kiss'd the Bride, Sir?' says shee, a-mocking of me after
her Wont. 'What a Fine Thing is a Love-Match, Master Freeman!'

"'Have you Wish'd the Bridegroom Joy?' says I. The woman anger'd me.

"'May Heaven send him all the Happiness he Deserves!' cries shee.
'Sure, you'll echo that yourself, Master Freeman!' 'Tis a jibing
Wench. Would to God Richard had Wedded her!"

Then came dry notes of a visit to Kinsfolk in Virginia. Freeman
seems to have been away from home for some time. When he returns, it
is to chronicle in brief his brother's downward course. "They have
sold Hope Plantation and Most of the Slaves. 'Tis an evil Chance."

"I shall be Twenty-one next month, though I feel a Thousand. We
shall have a Ball, after the Custom of our House. 'Tis to be a Grand
Affair. I do think my Parents are somewhat Tender of Conscience to
meward. Though my Father Loves me not as he Loves my Brother, yet he
begins to Lean upon me more & More Heavily. My poor Mother is a
Little Envious of these Dry Virtues of mine, seeing her Darling is
like to come to Shipwreck for Lack of them. Yet had he Fortune &
Beauty & Emily!"

The next entry records the loss of the Hynds jewels. "'Tis a great
Mystery!" One is sorely puzzled here. There is no getting at what
Freeman really thinks. Coldly, tritely, he sets down the bald, bare
facts of the tragedies that wrecked the Hyndses.

With a strange lack of emotion he chronicles Richard's death, and
adds: "At the Pleasure of God his Birth fell upon a