Friday, April 18, 2014

Greetings from Williamsburg

Greetings from Williamsburg,
Virginia's true capital.
My dear reader,

Here we are at the Commonwealth of Virginia's true capital... Our patriarch is washing in the tin tub, and young master William is playing with choleric birds and here I sit, quill in hand, penning this missive to you. We arrived safely last night without being waylaid by bandits and had a fine repast at Mr Huzzah's tavern. The ale was good and the bread and cheese passing. 

The spy games are engaging, but
yield naught but a coin of dubious worth.
We were fortunate to have a room to ourselves at the Woodlands Inn, although the snoring is still noisome among ourselves. Last night we ventured down to Great Hopes Plantation where we heard a programme of slave singing which heartened us mightily, and gave us pause, as it is clear they make mockery of fairer skinned peoples. As well they should — those who think to own them make of their lives a very hell, and would do well to repent of this grievous sin and release them without delay! 

This morning we engaged in a bit of espionage, which yielded nothing but a coin of dubious worth. Indeed we were of no assistance at all to the patriots' cause, despite our efforts. Following a simple luncheon at The Trellis, I returned to our rooms to practise my art, as most of the people who employ me are not actually aware of my absence. Meanwhile, Thomas and William visited some of the town tradesmen and enjoyed the vexing maze in Governor Dunmore's gardens. We are considering breaking bread this e'en at the pub on the Duke's street. Their array of fine libations is unsurpassed in the capital city, and their viands are most succulent. 

Dog Street Pub – fine libations
and succulent viands.
It has been cold and blustery, but my cloak has been more than sufficient to buffet the winds that assail us as we go about our business up and down the avenue and in and out of the shoppes and peruke maker and cobbler and such. 

I long to see you dear reader, and wish fiercely that you were with us. I hope this epistle finds you well and I will see you anon. Until then, I am

Your most devoted blogger,
Mme. Moore


  1. Moft exfellent, Mme. Moore!

    (sayeth the jellybean)

  2. 20 years since our trip to Williamsburg with Caroline! :)