Philadelphia, 23 April, 1777.
My barber has just left the chamber. The following curious dialogue was
the amusement during the gay moments of shaving.
"Well, Burne, what is the lie of the day?"
"Sir, Mr. ---- told me that a privateer from Baltimore has taken two
valuable prizes with sixteen guns each. I can scarcely believe it."
"Have you heard of the success of the _Rattlesnake_, of Philadelphia,
and the _Sturdy Beggar_, of Maryland, Mr. Burne? These two privateers
have taken eleven prizes, and sent them into the West India Islands;
nine transports and two Guinea-men."
"Confound the ill luck, sir; I was going to sea myself on board the
_Rattlesnake_, and my wife fell a-yelping. These wives are queer things.
I told her I wondered she had no more ambition. 'Now,' says I, 'when you
walk the streets and anybody asks who that is, the answer is, "_Burne
the barber's wife_." Should you not be better pleased to hear it said,
"_That is Captain Burne's lady_, the captain of marines on board the
Rattlesnake"?' 'Oh,' says she, 'I would rather be called Burne the
barber's wife, than Captain Burne's widow. I don't desire to live better
than you maintain me, my dear.' So it is, sir, by this sweet, honey
language, I am choused out of my prizes, and must go on with my soap and
razors and pincers and combs. I with she had my ambition."
If this letter should be intercepted by the Tories, they will get a
booty. Let them enjoy it. If some of their wives had been as tender and
discreet as the barber's, their husbands' ambition would not have led
them into so many salt ponds. What an _ignis fatuus_ this ambition is?
How few of either sex have arrived at Mrs. Burne's pitch of moderation,
and are able to say, "I don't desire to live better, and had rather be
the Barber's wife than the Captain's widow!" Quite smart, I think, as
well as philosophical.