Rawlings talk of Frank Leslie.
morning was overcast and damp; the sun
would have improved the prospect amazingly. We
rode through the trees, admired the little village
lying whitely below, in the dull Sunday morning,
the distant Catskills and the view down the river.
Returning and dismounting, Rawlings still led
me hither and thither, discoursing of what improve-
ments he had md made and what he intended to
make in the property, of Frank Leslie�s rascality
and ungratitude, of Before Yorktown, and much
more. Of F. L. I learnt a few particulars,
bad enough to be true. His wife is now separated
from him, living on an income paid weekly. She
was going to cowhide him once, in consequence of
his fornication with one Martha Haines Butt,
the �poetess,� whom Leslie wanted to esquire to
the Prince of Wales� Ball in New York, which
proceeding Mrs L. and Rawlings stopped; F.L.
getting a private intimation from the managers that
he�d better not show on that occasion. (Mrs L.
is an adultress: she went off on a long western
journey with a man and her husband knew,
perhaps abetted it; I recollect Hart telling me
the particulars. It occurred ten or twelve years
ago.) Leslie lives now with the Squiers; going
to Saratoga and elsewhere with Mrs S, the
filthy little blower her husband being a wittol
cuckold. Leslie, really Henry Carter, was