Philadelphia --The aroma of steamed lobster and stuffed duck wafted through the grand hall Saturday night as Philadelphia elite arrived coach by coach to honor Mr. Benjamin Franklin, who may be frugal, but enjoys a good party as much as his fellow 30-somethings. Sporting a freshly-powdered wig, New York Gov. George Clinton was the first to arrive and immediately pulled Mr. Franklin aside. A Clinton aide, who I shall not name but is fooling no one with his yak-hair wig, let it spill that the two dignitaries now are frequent confidants after spending a recent evening discussing King George's War. It seems after they consumed "several degrees of Madeira wine," Mr. Franklin convinced Gov. Clinton to lend more than a dozen cannons to Philadelphia. This battle is getting serious, but back to the party....

Wives, daughters, and mistresses alike proved absolutely slavish to London fashion on this eve, making it impossible to enter the doorway without turning sideways. Like elegant crabs, they entered one by one wearing hoop skirts, lavishly adorned with silver and gold lace. Hair was piled impossibly high, but oh-so-elegant were the mouches -- brightly colored moons, stars, and cupids dotting cheekbones everywhere. Paler than pale is still in vogue, and it was apparent most ladies still won't leave the house without their daily blood-letting....

Less involved in fashion, but more involved in her husband's impossible number of causes was Mrs. Franklin, who was overheard saying more than a few unkind words about a scalawag in England who now is making a fortune off the Franklin stove. She said her husband had refused to patent his invention of the first open stove -- a handsome and useful gadget, I might add, after seeing one this night in the kitchen. The impromptu culinary tour also introduced me to the white potato, something young chef Patrick Flannery assures me will catch on from his homeland. It was a bit bland, but Mr. Flannery said it's better with butter. The buffet, by the way, was fabulous, and Mr. "kill no more pigeons than you can eat" Franklin should rest easy this evening that every morsel was consumed....

But about that stove, Mrs. Franklin said her husband is not likely to get heated over the news of the British patent because he already has invested his time in more important things. In addition to his weekly attendance a the Masons, Junto, Library Company and Union Fire Company, Mr. Franklin has started a new club -- the American Philosophical Society. It seems he and his fellow colony boys have spent the better part of a year getting together this group of thinkers. And to what purpose? According to Mr. Franklin's mission statement, slipped to me by one of his apprentices, the Philadelphia members will include the following disciplines: "physician, botanist, mathematician, chemist, geographer, and general natural philosopher." Mr. Franklin, please consider adding the category of "angry young man" to your list as party guest Mr. Sam Adams, 22, would fill that niche nicely. I don't know what's in the water up there, but Mr. Adams and his Boston buddies are harboring wild notions about living in an America independent from England. Better hold onto those cannons, Mr. Franklin.

It seemed inappropriate for children to be at the party, but there they were. All seemed amused at the stories being told by Mr. Franklin, save 7-year old John Hancock, who was giddy over his ability to write his own name, and sat and practiced it over and over the entire time....

As the party drew to a close, Mr. Franklin was the last to leave the gala, and should he be displeased at any of my observations this eve, I'll just have to say I was following his own advice: "The great secret of suceeding in conversation is to admire little, to hear much..."