No one may read the annals of these men, who were at once brave and courtly, and of these women, who were ladies by nature as well as by birth, and not love them.  The fascination of that free and hospitable life has been so strong on the writer of this novel that he closes it with a genuine regret and the hope that its perusal may lead others to the pleasure he has derived from the history of Maryland.

As few liberties as possible have been taken with the lives of Charles James Fox and of John Paul Jones.  The latter hero actually made a voyage in the brigantine ‘John’ about the time he picked up Richard Carvel from the Black Moll, after the episode with Mungo Maxwell at Tobago.  The Scotch scene, of course, is purely imaginary.  Accuracy has been aimed at in the account of the fight between the ‘Bonhomme Richard’ and the ‘Serapis’, while a little different arrangement might have been better for the medium of the narrative.  To be sure, it was Mr. Mease, the purser, instead of Richard Carvel, who so bravely fought the quarter-deck guns; and in reality Midshipman Mayrant, Commodore Jones’s aide, was wounded by a pike in the thigh after the surrender.  No injustice is done to the second and third lieutenants, who were absent from the ship during the action.

The author must acknowledge that the only good anecdote in the book and the only verse worth printing are stolen.  The story on page concerning Mr. Garrick and the Archbishop of York may be found in Fitzgerald’s life of the actor, much better told.  The verse (in Chapter X) is by an unknown author in the Annapolis Gazette, and is republished in Mr. Elihu Riley’s excellent “History of Annapolis.”

PG EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: 

A bold front is half the battle
A man ought never to be frightened by appearances
Affections warm despite absence, and years, and interest
Ever been my nature to turn forward instead of back
Genius honored but never encouraged
God bless their backs, which is the only part I ever care to see
He was our macaroni of Annapolis
Human multitude with its infinity of despairs and joys
It is sorrow which lifts us nearest to heaven
No real prosperity comes out of double-dealing
Shaped his politics according to the company he was in
Sight of happiness is often a pleasure for those who are sad
Sir, I have not yet begun to fight
The worse the disease, the more remarkable the cure
Their lines belonged rather to the landscape (cottages)
Thy politics are not over politic
Tis no so bad it micht-na be waur
Within every man’s province to make himself what he will
Ya maun ken th’ incentive’s the maist o’ the battle
Youth is in truth a mystery