An interview in the mock-heroic style between the rebel warriors and the British commander-in-chief was received with immense applause , which came loudest of all from the loyalists of the colony . There was one of the guests , however , who stood apart , eying these antics sternly and scornfully at once with a frown and a bitter smile . It was an old man formerly of high station and great repute in the province , and who had been a very famous soldier in his day . Some surprise had been expressed that a person of Colonel Joliffe 's known Whig principles , though now too old to take an active part in the contest , should have remained in Boston during the siege , and especially that he should consent to show himself in the mansion of Sir William Howe . But thither he had come with a fair granddaughter under his arm , and there , amid all the mirth and buffoonery , stood this stern old figure , the best-sustained character in the masquerade , because so well representing the antique spirit of his native land . The other guests affirmed that Colonel Joliffe 's black puritanical scowl threw a shadow round about him , although , in spite of his sombre influence , their gayety continued to blaze higher , like -- an ominous comparison -- the flickering brilliancy of a lamp which has but a little while to burn . Eleven strokes full half an hour ago had pealed from the clock of the Old South , when a rumor was circulated among the company that some new spectacle or pageant was about to be exhibited which should put a fitting close to the splendid festivities of the night . `` What new jest has Your Excellency in hand ? '' asked the Reverend Mather Byles , whose Presbyterian scruples had not kept him from the entertainment . `` Trust me , sir , I have already laughed more than beseems my cloth at your Homeric confabulation with yonder ragamuffin general of the rebels . One other such fit of merriment , and I must throw off my clerical wig and band . '' `` Not so , good Dr. Byles , '' answered Sir William Howe ; `` if mirth were a crime , you had never gained your doctorate in divinity . As to this new foolery , I know no more about it than yourself -- perhaps not so much . Honestly , now , doctor , have you not stirred up the sober brains of some of your countrymen to enact a scene in our masquerade ? '' `` Perhaps , '' slyly remarked the granddaughter of Colonel Joliffe , whose high spirit had been stung by many taunts against New England -- `` perhaps we are to have a masque of allegorical figures -- Victory with trophies from Lexington and Bunker Hill , Plenty with her overflowing horn to typify the present abundance in this good town , and Glory with a wreath for His Excellency 's brow . '' Sir William Howe smiled at words which he would have answered with one of his darkest frowns had they been uttered by lips that wore a beard . He was spared the necessity of a retort by a singular interruption . A sound of music was heard without the house , as if proceeding from a full band of military instruments stationed in the street , playing , not such a festal strain as was suited to the occasion , but a slow funeral-march . The drums appeared to be muffled , and the trumpets poured forth a wailing breath which at once hushed the merriment of the auditors , filling all with wonder and some with apprehension . The idea occurred to many that either the funeral procession of some great personage had halted in front of the province-house , or that a corpse in a velvet-covered and gorgeously-decorated coffin was about to be borne from the portal .
After listening a moment , Sir William XXXXX called in a stern voice to the leader of the musicians , who had hitherto enlivened the entertainment with gay and lightsome melodies .
Howe Joliffe Lexington Whig beseems brilliancy day foolery funeral-march ragamuffin