in Philadelphia, for Mrs. Hopkinson was a lady of much cultivation and knowledge of the world. At their table I met one day a brilliant party of eleven or twelve gentlemen. Amongst them were Mr. Randolph, the Abbe Correa, Dr. Chapman, and Mr. Parish. It was an elegant dinner, and the conversation was no doubt worthy of such guests; but one incident has overshadowed the rest of the scene. The Abbe Correa——who was one of the most remarkable men of the time, for various learning, acuteness, and wit, and for elegant suave manners1—had just returned from a visit to Mr. Jefferson, whom he much liked, and, in giving some account of his journey, which on the whole had been agreeable, he mentioned that he had been surprised at not finding more gentlemen living on their plantations in elegant luxury, as he had expected. It was quietly said, but Randolph could never endure the slightest disparagement of Virginia, if ever so just, and immediately said, with some sharpness, ‘Perhaps, Mr. Correa, your acquaintance was not so much with that class of persons.’ Correa, who was as amiable as he was polite, answered very quietly,—‘Perhaps not; the next time I will go down upon the Roanoke, and I will visit Mr. Randolph and his friends.’ Mr. Randolph, who was one of the bitterest of men, was not appeased by this intended compliment, and said, in the sharpest tones of his high-pitched, disagreeable voice, ‘In my part of the country, gentlemen commonly wait to be invited before they make visits.’ Correa's equanimity was a little disturbed; his face flushed. He looked slowly round the table till every eye was upon him, and then replied, in a quiet, level tone of voice,—‘Said I not well of the gentlemen of Virginia?’ There was a pause, for every one felt embarrassed; and then a new subject was started. Many years afterwards Mr. Walsh told me that Randolph never forgot or forgave the retort. Correa and Mr. Walsh were very intimate. Walsh lived for some years in Washington, and Correa, who was a single man, lived with him. One day Mr. Randolph called on Mr. Walsh. Mr. Walsh was not at home, but Mr. Randolph's penetrating voice was heard in the parlor by Mrs. Walsh. ‘Mind,’ said he to the servant, ‘that card is for Mr. Walsh,—I do not call on Ministers who board out.’ This was told me by Mr. Walsh.
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