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diff --git a/old/69235-0.txt b/old/69235-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ad28c4d..0000000 --- a/old/69235-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8925 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Children's book of patriotic stories, -by Asa Don Dickinson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Children's book of patriotic stories - The spirit of '76 - -Editors: Asa Don Dickinson - Helen Winslow Dickinson - -Release Date: October 25, 2022 [eBook #69235] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN'S BOOK OF PATRIOTIC -STORIES *** - - - - - - CHILDREN’S BOOK OF - PATRIOTIC STORIES - - - - - _In the Same Series_ - - [Illustration] - - - CHILDREN’S BOOK OF CHRISTMAS STORIES - Edited by ASA DON DICKINSON and ADA M. SKINNER - - CHILDREN’S BOOK OF THANKSGIVING STORIES - Edited by ASA DON DICKINSON - - - [Illustration: THE SPIRIT OF ’76] - - - - - CHILDREN’S BOOK OF - PATRIOTIC STORIES - - _The Spirit of ’76_ - - EDITED BY - ASA DON DICKINSON - AND - HELEN WINSLOW DICKINSON - - [Illustration] - - _Frontispiece_ - - GARDEN CITY NEW YORK - DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY - 1918 - - - - - _Copyright, 1917, by_ - DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY - - _All rights reserved, including that of - translation into foreign languages, - including the Scandinavian_ - - - - -ACKNOWLEDGMENT - - -The Publishers desire to acknowledge the kindness of G. P. Putnam’s -Sons, the Houghton Mifflin Company, Harper & Brothers, the Perry Mason -Company, the Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company, Little, Brown & Company, -George W. Jacobs & Company, Silver, Burdett & Company, and others, -who have granted permission to reproduce herein selections from works -bearing their copyright. - - - - -PREFACE - - -Here is a book of Patriotic Stories for children, to stand beside the -similar collections of Christmas Stories and Thanksgiving Stories, -which have already been welcomed by many parents, librarians, and -teachers. Those seeking material appropriate to Washington’s Birthday -and the Fourth of July will find here a goodly store, ready to their -hands. The brief descriptive note at the head of each story will help -the reader to choose one well suited to his audience. And the Table of -Contents, as in the previous collections, indicates which tales will -best please older, and which younger children. - -The Editors hope that a book of stirring tales like these--not history, -but stories such as children love, that yet ring true in spirit--will -serve to help, though ever so little, the Cause of Liberty and will aid -in keeping aglow in the hearts of our young people the ardent spark -which inspired our forefathers--the Spirit of ’76. - - - - - _Napoleon was great, I know, - And Julius Cæsar, and all the rest, - But they didn’t belong to us, and so - I like George Washington the best._ - - --ANONYMOUS. - - - - -CONTENTS - -(_Note._--The stories marked with a star (*) will be most enjoyed by -younger children; those marked with a dagger(†) are better suited to -older children.) - - PAGE - - Jabez Rockwell’s Powder-horn. _By Ralph D. Paine_ 3 - - The Little Lord of the Manor. _By Elbridge S. Brooks_ 19 - - †Old Esther Dudley. _By Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 40 - - *Betty’s Ride. _By Henry S. Canby_ 55 - - The First Blow for American Liberty. _By Emma W. Demeritt_ 64 - - †The Battle of Bunker’s Hill. _By Washington Irving_ 79 - - *Her Punishment. _By Elizabeth Gibson_ 91 - - Famous Words at Great Moments 95 - - *The Little Fifer. _By Helen M. Winslow_ 102 - - †Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys. _By Washington Irving_ 111 - - The Capture of the Hennepin Gun. _By Margaret Emma Ditto_ 117 - - Paul Revere’s Ride. _By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 132 - - *Tony’s Birthday and George Washington’s. _By Agnes Repplier_ 138 - - A Venture in 1777. _By S. Weir Mitchell_ 145 - - A Tempest in a Big Tea-pot. _By Samuel Adams Drake_ 189 - - †How the Warning Was Given. _By Mabel Nelson Thurston_ 192 - - †Susan Tongs. _By Ethel Parton_ 206 - - *The Little Minute-man. _By H. G. Paine_ 217 - - *General Gage and the Boston Boys. _By Samuel Adams Drake_ 225 - - †Washington and the Spy. _By James Fenimore Cooper_ 227 - - *Three Washington Anecdotes. _Adapted from M. L. Weems_ 236 - - “When George the Third Was King.” _By Elbridge S. Brooks_ 241 - - *Their Flag Day. _By Herbert O. McCrillis_ 256 - - A True Story of the Revolution. _By Everett T. Tomlinson_ 260 - - †Polly Callendar: Tory. _By Margaret Fenderson_ 270 - - Neil Davidson in Disguise. _By Mary Tracy Earle_ 279 - - †John Paul Jones. _By Rupert S. Holland_ 295 - - - - - CHILDREN’S BOOK OF - PATRIOTIC STORIES - - - - -CHILDREN’S BOOK OF PATRIOTIC STORIES - - - - -JABEZ ROCKWELL’S POWDER-HORN[A] - -By RALPH D. PAINE - -A story of the “Powder-horn rebellion” at Valley Forge, and of how -gallant young Jabez Rockwell rallied a retreating regiment at the -battle of Monmouth. - - -“Pooh, you are not tall enough to carry a musket. Go with the drums, -and tootle on that fife you blew at the Battle of Saratoga. Away with -you, little Jabez, crying for a powder-horn, when grown men like me -have not a pouch amongst them for a single charge of powder!” - -A tall, gaunt Vermonter, whose uniform was a woolen bedcover draped to -his knees, laughed loudly from the doorway of his log hut as he flung -these taunts at the stripling soldier. - -A little way down the snowy street of these rude cabins a group of -ragged comrades was crowding at the heels of a man who hugged a leather -apron to his chest with both arms. Jabez Rockwell was in hot haste to -join the chase; nevertheless he halted to cry back at his critic: - -“It’s a lie! I put my fife in my pocket at Saratoga, and I fought with -a musket as long and ugly as yourself. And a redcoat shot me through -the arm. If the camp butcher has powder-horns to give away, I deserve -one more than those raw militia recruits, so wait until you are a -veteran of the Connecticut line before you laugh at us old soldiers.” - -The youngster stooped to tighten the clumsy wrappings of rags which -served him for shoes, and hurried on after the little shouting mob -which had followed the butcher down to the steep hillside of Valley -Forge, where he stood at bay with his back to the cliff. - -“There are thirty of you desperate villains,” puffed the fat fugitive, -“and I have only ten horns, which have been saved from the choicest of -all the cattle I’ve killed these two months gone. I would I had my maul -and skinning-knife here to defend myself. Take me to headquarters, if -there is no other way to end this riot. I want no pay for the horns. -They are my gift to the troops, but, Heaven help me! who is to decide -how to divide them amongst so many!” - -“Stand him on his bald head, and loose the horns from the apron. As -they fall, he who finds keeps!” roared one of the boisterous party. - -“Toss them all in the air and let us fight for them,” was another -suggestion. - -The hapless butcher glared round him with growing dismay. At this rate -half the American army would soon be clamoring round him, drawn by the -chance to add to their poor equipment. - -By this time Jabez Rockwell had wriggled under the arms of the shouting -soldiers, twisting like an uncommonly active eel, until he was close to -the red-faced butcher. With ready wit the youngster piped up a plan for -breaking the deadlock: - -“There are thirty of us, you say, that put you to rout, Master Ritter. -Let us divide the ten horns by lot. Then you can return to your -cow-pens with a whole skin and a clear conscience.” - -“There is more sense in that little carcass of yours than in all those -big, hulking troopers that could spit you on a bayonet like a sparrow!” -rumbled Master Ritter. “How shall the lots be drawn?” - -“Away with your lottery!” cried a burly rifleman, whose long -hunting-shirt whipped in the bitter wind. “The road up the valley is -well beaten down. The old forge is half a mile away. Do you mark a -line, old beef-killing Jack, and we will run for our lives. The first -ten to touch the stone wall of the smithy will take the ten prizes.” - -Some yelled approval, others fiercely opposed, and the wrangling was -louder than before. Master Ritter, who had plucked up heart, began to -steal warily from the hillside, hoping to escape in the confusion. -A dozen hands clutched his collar and leather apron, and jerked him -headlong back into the argument. - -Young Jabez scrambled to the top of the nearest boulder, and ruffled -with importance like a turkey-cock as he waved his arms to command -attention. - -“The guard will be turned out and we shall end this fray by cooling -our heels in the prison huts on the hill,” he declaimed. “If we run -a foot-race, who is to say which of us first reaches the forge? -Again--and I say I never served with such thick-witted troops, when I -fought under General Arnold at Saratoga--those with shoes to their feet -have the advantage over those that are bound up in bits of cloth and -clumsy patches of hide. Draw lots, I say, before the picket is down -upon us!” - -The good-natured crowd cheered the boy orator, and hauled him from his -perch with such hearty thumps that he feared they would break him in -two. - -Suddenly the noise was hushed as if the wranglers had been stricken -dumb. Fur-capped heads turned to face down the winding valley, and -without need of an order the company spread itself along the roadside -in a rude, uneven line. Every man stood at attention, his head up, his -shoulders thrown back, hands at his sides. Thus they stood while they -watched a little group of horsemen trot toward them. - -In front rode a commanding figure in buff and blue. The tall, lithe -frame sat the saddle with the graceful ease of the hard-riding Virginia -fox-hunter. The stern, smooth-shaven face, reddened and roughened by -exposure to all weathers, lighted with an amiable curiosity at sight -of this motley and expectant party, the central figure of which was the -butcher, Master Ritter, who had dropped to his knees as if praying for -his life. - -General Washington turned to a sprightly looking, red-haired youth who -rode at his side, as if calling his attention to this singular tableau. -The Marquis de Lafayette shrugged his shoulders after the French -manner, and said, laughingly: - -“It ees vat you t’ink? Vill they make ready to kill ’im? Vat they do?” - -Just behind them pounded General Mühlenberg, the clergyman who had -doffed his gown for the uniform of a brigadier, stalwart, swarthy, -laughter in his piercing eyes as he commented: - -“To the rescue! The victim is a worthy member of my old Pennsylvania -flock. This doth savor of a soldier’s court-martial for honest Jacob -Ritter.” - -The cavalcade halted, and the soldiers saluted, tongue-tied and -embarrassed, scuffling, and prodding one another’s ribs in an attempt -to urge a spokesman forward, while General Washington gazed down at -them as if demanding an explanation. - -The butcher was about to make a stammering attempt when the string of -his apron parted, and the ten cow-horns were scattered in the snow. He -dived in pursuit of them, and his speech was never made. - -Because Jabez Rockwell was too light and slender to make much -resistance, he was first to be pushed into the foreground, and found -himself nearest the commander-in-chief. He made the best of a bad -matter, and his frank young face flushed hotly as he doffed his -battered cap and bowed low. - -“May it please the general, we were in a good-natured dispute touching -the matter of those ten cow-horns which the butcher brought amongst us -to his peril. There are more muskets than pouches in our street, and we -are debating a fair way to divide them. It is--it is exceedingly bold, -sir, but dare we ask you to suggest a way out of the trouble which -preys sorely on the butcher’s mind and body?” - -A fleeting frown troubled the noble face of the chief, and his mouth -twitched, not with anger but in pain, for the incident brought home -to him anew that his soldiers, these brave, cheerful, half-clothed, -freezing followers, were without even the simplest tools of warfare. - -The cloud cleared and he smiled, such a proud, affectionate smile as -a father shows to sons of his who have deemed no sacrifice too great -for duty’s sake. His eyes softened as he looked down at the straight -stripling at his bridle-rein, and replied: - -“You have asked my advice as a third party, and it is meet that I share -in the distribution. Follow me to the nearest hut.” - -His officers wheeled and rode after him, while the bewildered soldiers -trailed behind, two and two, down the narrow road, greatly wondering -whether reward or punishment was to be their lot. - -As for Jabez Rockwell, he strode proudly in the van as guide to the -log cabin, and felt his heart flutter as he jumped to the head of the -charger, while the general dismounted with the agility of a boy. - -Turning to the soldiers, who hung abashed in the road, Washington -called: - -“Come in, as many of you as can find room!” - -The company filled the hut, and made room for those behind by climbing -into the tiers of bunks filled with boughs to soften the rough-hewn -planks. - -In one corner a wood-fire smoldered in a rough stone fireplace, whose -smoke made even the general cough and sneeze. He stood behind a bench -of barked logs, and took from his pocket a folded document. Then he -picked up from the hearth a bit of charcoal, and announced: - -“I will write down a number between fifteen hundred and two thousand, -and the ten that guess nearest this number shall be declared the -winners of the ten horns.” - -He carefully tore the document into strips, and then into small -squares, which were passed among the delighted audience. There was a -busy whispering and scratching of heads. Over in one corner, jammed -against the wall until he gasped for breath, Jabez Rockwell said to -himself: - -“I must guess shrewdly. Methinks he will choose a number halfway -between fifteen hundred and two thousand. I will write down seventeen -hundred and fifty. But, stay! Seventeen seventy-six may come first into -his mind, the glorious year when the independence of the colonies was -declared. But he will surely take it that we, too, are thinking of that -number, wherefore I will pass it by.” - -As if reading his thoughts, a comrade curled up in a bunk at Rockwell’s -elbow muttered: - -“Seventeen seventy-six, I haven’t a doubt of it!” - -Alas for the cunning surmise of Jabez, the chief did write down -Independence year, “1776,” and when this verdict was read aloud, the -boy felt deep disappointment. This was turned to joy, however, when -his guess of “1750” was found to be among the ten nearest the fateful -choice, and one of the powder-horns fell to him. - -The soldiers pressed back to make way for General Washington as he went -out of the hut, stooping low that his head might escape the roof-beams. -Before the party mounted, the boyish Lafayette swung his hat round his -head and shouted: - -“A huzza for ze wise general!” - -The soldiers cheered lustily, and General Mühlenberg followed with: - -“Now a cheer for the Declaration of Independence and for the soldier -who wrote down ‘Seventeen seventy-six.’” - -General Washington bowed in his saddle, and the shouting followed his -clattering train up the valley on his daily tour of inspection. He left -behind him a new-fledged hero in the person of Jabez Rockwell whose -bold tactics had won him a powder-horn and given his comrades the -rarest hour of the dreary winter at Valley Forge. - -In his leisure time he scraped and polished the horn, fitted it with -a wooden stopper and cord, and with greatest care and labor scratched -upon its gleaming surface these words: - - _Jabez Rockwell, Ridgeway, Conn.--His Horn. - Made in Camp at Valley Forge_ - -Thin and pale, but with unbroken spirit, this sixteen-year-old veteran -drilled and marched and braved picket duty in zero weather, often -without a scrap of meat to brace his ration for a week on end; but -he survived with no worse damage than sundry frostbites. In early -spring he was assigned to duty as a sentinel of the company which -guarded the path that led up the hill to the headquarters of the -commander-in-chief. Here he learned much to make the condition of his -comrades seem more hopeless and forlorn than ever. - -Hard-riding scouting parties came into camp with reports of forays as -far as the suburbs of Philadelphia, twenty miles away. Spies disguised -as farmers returned with stories of visits into the heart of the -capital city held by the enemy. This gossip and information, which -the young sentinel picked up bit by bit, he pieced together to make a -picture of an invincible, veteran British army, waiting to fall upon -the huddled mob of “rebels” at Valley Forge, and sweep them away like -chaff. He heard it over and over again, that the Hessians, with their -tall and gleaming brass hats and fierce moustaches, “were dreadful to -look upon,” that the British Grenadiers, who tramped the Philadelphia -streets in legions, “were like moving ranks of stone wall.” - -Then Jabez would look out across the valley, and perhaps see an -American regiment at drill, without uniforms, ranks half-filled, -looking like an array of scarecrows. His heart would sink, despite -his memories of Saratoga; and in such dark hours he could not believe -it possible even for General Washington to win a battle in the coming -summer campaign. - -It was on a bright day of June that Capt. Allan McLane, the leader of -scouts, galloped past the huts of the sentinels, and shouted as he rode: - -“The British have marched out of Philadelphia! I have just cut my way -through their skirmishers over in New Jersey!” - -A little later orderlies were buzzing out of the old stone house at -headquarters like bees from a hive, with orders for the troops to be -ready to march. As Jabez Rockwell hurried to rejoin his regiment, men -were shouting the glad news along the green valley, with songs and -cheers and laughter. They fell in as a fighting army, and left behind -them the tragic story of their winter at Valley Forge, as the trailing -columns swept beyond the Schuylkill into the wide and smiling farm -lands of Pennsylvania. - -Summer heat now blistered the dusty faces that had been for so long -blue and pinched with hunger and cold. A week of glad marching and -full rations carried Washington’s awakened army into New Jersey, by -which time the troops knew their chief was leading them to block the -British retreat from Philadelphia. - -Jabez Rockwell, marching with the Connecticut Brigade, had forgotten -his fears of the brass-capped Hessians and the stone-wall Grenadiers. -One night they camped near Monmouth village, and scouts brought in the -tidings that the British were within sight. In the long summer twilight -Jabez climbed a little knoll hard by, and caught a glimpse of the white -tents of the Queen’s Rangers, hardly beyond musketshot. Before daybreak -a rattle of firing woke him and he scrambled out, to find that the -pickets were already exchanging shots. - -He picked up his old musket, and chewing a hunk of dry bread for -breakfast, joined his company drawn up in a pasture. Knapsacks were -piled near Freehold Meeting-house, and the troops marched ahead, not -knowing where they were sent. - -Across the wooded fields Jabez saw the lines of red splotches which -gleamed in the early sunlight and he knew these were British troops. -The rattling musket-fire became a grinding roar, and the deeper note -of artillery boomed into the tumult. A battle had begun, yet the -Connecticut Brigade was stewing in the heat hour after hour, impatient, -troubled, wondering why they had no part to play. As the forenoon -dragged along the men became sullen and weary. - -When at last an order came it was not to advance, but to retreat. -Falling back, they found themselves near their camping-place. Valley -Forge had not quenched the faith of Jabez Rockwell in General -Washington’s power to conquer any odds, but now he felt such dismay as -brought hot tears to his eyes. On both sides of his regiment American -troops were streaming to the rear, their columns broken and straggling. -It seemed as if the whole army was fleeing from the veterans of Clinton -and Cornwallis. - -Jabez flung himself into a cornfield, and hid his face in his arms. -Round him his comrades were muttering their anger and despair. He -fumbled for his canteen, and his fingers closed round his powder-horn. -“General Washington did not give you to me to run away with,” he -whispered; and then his parched lips moved in a little prayer: - -“Dear Lord, help us to beat the British this day, and give me a chance -to empty my powder-horn before night. Thou hast been with General -Washington and me ever since last year. Please don’t desert us now.” - -Nor was he surprised when, as if in direct answer to his petition, -he rose to see the chief riding through the troop lines, but such a -chief as he had never before known. The kindly face was aflame with -anger, and streaked with dust and sweat. The powerful horse he rode was -lathered, and its heaving flanks were scarred from hard-driven spurs. - -As the commander passed the regiment, his staff in a whirlwind at his -heels, Jabez heard him shout in a great voice vibrant with rage and -grief: - -“I cannot believe the army is retreating. I ordered a general advance. -Who dared to give such an order! Advance those lines----” - -“It was General Lee’s order to retreat,” Jabez heard an officer stammer -in reply. - -Washington vanished in a moment, with a storm of cheers in his wake. -Jabez was content to wait for orders now. He believed the Battle of -Monmouth as good as won. - -His recollection of the next few hours was jumbled and hazy. He knew -that the regiment went forward, and then the white smoke of musket-fire -closed down before him. Now and then the summer breeze made rifts in -this stifling cloud, and he saw it streaked with spouting fire. He -aimed his old musket at that other foggy line beyond the rail fence, -whose top was lined with men in coats of red and green and black. - -Suddenly his officers began running to and fro, and a shout ran down -the thin line: - -“Stand steady, Connecticut! Save your fire! Aim low! Here comes a -charge!” - -A tidal wave of red and brass broke through the gaps in the rail fence, -and the sunlight rippled along a wavering line of British bayonets. -They crept nearer, nearer, until Jabez could see the grim ferocity, the -bared teeth, the staring eyes of the dreaded Grenadiers. - -At the command to fire he pulled trigger, and the kick of his musket -made him grunt with pain. Pulling the stopper from his powder-horn with -his teeth, Jabez poured in a charge, and was ramming the bullet home -when he felt his right leg double under him and burn as if red-hot iron -had seared it. - -Then the charging tide of Grenadiers swept over him. He felt their -hobnailed heels bite into his back; then his head felt queer, and he -closed his eyes. When he found himself trying to rise, he saw, as -through a mist, his regiment falling back, driven from their ground -by the first shock of the charge. He groaned in agony of spirit. What -would General Washington say? - -Jabez was now behind the headlong British column, which heeded him -not. He was in a little part of the field cleared of fighting, for the -moment, except for the wounded, who dotted the trampled grass. The -smoke had drifted away, for the swaying lines in front of him were -locked in the frightful embrace of cold steel. - -The boy staggered to his feet, with his musket as a crutch, and his -wound was forgotten. He was given strength to his need by the spirit of -a great purpose. - -Alone he stood and reeled, while he beckoned, passionately, -imploringly, his arm outstretched toward his broken regiment. The -lull in the firing made a moment of strange quiet, broken only by -groans, and the hard, gasping curses of men locked in the death-grip. -Therefore, the shrill young voice carried far, as he shouted: - -“Come back, Connecticut! I’m waiting for you!” - -His captain heard the boy, and waved his sword with hoarse cries to his -men. They caught sight of the lonely little figure in the background, -and his cry went to their hearts, and a great wave of rage and shame -swept the line like a prairie fire. Like a landslide the men of -Connecticut swept forward to recapture the ground they had yielded. -Back fell the British before a countercharge they could not withstand, -back beyond the rail fence. Nor was there refuge even there, for, -shattered and spent, they were smashed to fragments in a flank attack -driven home in the nick of time by the American reserves. - -From a low hill to the right of this action General Washington had -paused to view the charge just when his line gave way. He sent an -officer in hot haste for reserves, and waited for them where he was. - -Thus it happened that his eye swept the littered field from which Jabez -Rockwell rose, as one from the dead, to rally his comrades, alone, -undaunted, pathetic beyond words. A little later two privates were -carrying to the rear the wounded lad, who had been picked up alive and -conscious. They halted to salute their commander-in-chief, and laid -their burden down as the general drew rein and said: - -“Take this man to my quarters, and see to it that he has every possible -attention. I saw him save a regiment and retake a position.” - -The limp figure on the litter of boughs raised itself on an elbow, and -said very feebly: - -“I didn’t want to see that powder-horn disgraced, sir.” - -With a smile of recognition General Washington responded: - -“The powder-horn? I remember. _You_ are the lad who led the powder-horn -rebellion at Valley Forge. And I wrote down ‘Seventeen seventy-six.’ -You have used it well, my boy. I will not forget.” - -When Jabez Rockwell was able to rejoin his company, he scratched upon -the powder-horn this addition to the legend he had carved at Valley -Forge: - - _First used at Monmouth, June 28, 1778._ - -A hundred years later the grandson of Jabez Rockwell hung the -powder-horn in the old stone house at Valley Forge which had been -General Washington’s headquarters. And if you should chance to see it -there you will find that the young soldier added one more line to the -rough inscription: - - _Last used at Yorktown, 1781._ - - - - -THE LITTLE LORD OF THE MANOR[B] - -By E. S. BROOKS - - A picture of Evacuation Day in New York, in 1783, when the British - troops hauled down their flag and sailed away from free America. - A little lost lord, his distracted Tory grandfather, and some - kind-hearted American children are the principal characters. And we - are told how little Mistress Dolly Duane “won the distinguished honor - of being kissed by both Commanders-in-Chief on the same eventful day.” - - -It was the 25th of November, 1783--a brilliant day, clear, crisp, and -invigorating, with just enough of frosty air to flush the eager cheeks -and nip the inquisitive noses of every boy and girl in the excited -crowd that filled the Bowery lane from Harlem to the barriers, and -pressed fast upon the heels of General Knox’s advance detachment of -Continental troops marching to the position assigned them, near the -“tea-water pump.” In the Duane mansion a fire was blazing brightly and -Mistress Dolly’s pet cat was purring comfortably in the cheerful light. -But Mistress Dolly herself cared just now for neither cat nor comfort. -She, too, was on the highway watching for the exciting events that were -to make this Evacuation Day in New York one of the most memorable -occasions in the history of the chief American city. - -At some points the crowd was especially pushing and persistent, and -Mistress Dolly Duane was decidedly uncomfortable. For little Dolly -detested crowds, as, in fact, she detested everything that interfered -with the comfort of a certain dainty little maiden of thirteen. And -she was just on the point of expressing to her cousin, young Edward -Livingston, her regret that they had not stayed to witness the -procession from the tumbledown gateway of the Duane country-house, near -the King’s Bridge road, when, out from the crowd, came the sound of a -child’s voice, shrill and complaining. - -“Keep off, you big, bad man!” it said; “keep off and let me pass! How -dare you crowd me so, you wicked rebels?” - -“Rebels, hey?” a harsh and mocking voice exclaimed. “Rebels! Heard ye -that, mates? Well crowed, my little cockerel. Let’s have a look at -you,” and a burly arm rudely parted the pushing crowd and dragged out -of the press a slight, dark-haired little fellow of seven or eight, -clad in velvet and ruffles. - -“Put me down! Put me down, I say!” screamed the boy, his small face -flushed with passion. “Put me down, I tell you, or I’ll bid Angevine -horsewhip you!” - -“Hark to the little Tory,” growled his captor. “A rare young bird, now, -isn’t he? Horsewhip _us_, d’ye say--us, free American citizens? And who -may you be, my little beggar?” - -“I am no beggar, you bad man,” cried the child angrily. “I am the -little lord of the manor.” - -“Lord of the manor! Ho, ho, ho!” laughed the big fellow. “Give us -grace, your worship,” he said, with mock humility. “Lord of the manor! -Look at him, mates,” and he held the struggling little lad toward -the laughing crowd. “Why, there are no lords nor manors now in free -America, my bantam.” - -“But I am, I tell you!” protested the boy. “That’s what my grandfather -calls me--oh, where is he? Take me to him, please: he calls me the -little lord of the manor.” - -“Who’s your grandfather?” demanded the man. - -“Who? Why, don’t you know?” the “little lord” asked incredulously. -“Everybody knows my grandfather, I thought. He is Colonel Phillipse, -Baron of Phillipsbourg, and lord of the manor; and he’ll kill you if -you hurt me,” he added defiantly. - -“Phillipse, the king of Yonckers! Phillipse, the fat old Tory of West -Chester! A prize, a prize, mates!” shouted the bully. “What say you? -Shall we hold this young bantling hostage for the tainted Tory, his -grandfather, and when once we get the old fellow serve him as we did -the refugee at Wall-kill t’ other day?” - -“What did you do?” the crowd asked. - -“Faith, we tarred and feathered him well, put a hog-yoke on his neck -and a cow-bell, too, and then rode him on a rail till he cheered for -the Congress.” - -“Treat my grandfather like that--my good grandfather? You shall not! -you dare not!” cried the small Phillipse, with a flood of angry tears, -as he struggled and fought in his captor’s clutch. - -Dolly Duane’s kindly heart was filled with pity at the rough usage of -the “little lord.” - -“Oh, sir,” she said, as she pushed through the crowd and laid her hand -on the big bully’s arm, “let the child go. ’Tis unmannerly to treat him -as you do, and you’re very, very cruel.” - -The fellow turned roughly around and looked down into Dolly’s disturbed -and protesting face. - -“What, another of ’em?” he said surlily. “Why, the place is full of -little Tories.” - -“No, no; no Tory I!” said indignant Dolly. “My father is Mr. Duane, and -he is no Tory.” - -“Mr. Duane, of the Congress?” “Give up the lad to the maid.” “Why harm -the child?” came mingled voices from the crowd. - -“What care I for Duane!” said the bully contemptuously. “One man’s as -good as another now in free America--isn’t he? Bah! you’re all cowards; -but I know when I’ve got a good thing. You don’t bag a Phillipse every -day, I’ll warrant you.” - -“No; but we bag other game once in a while,” said Dolly’s cousin, young -Edward Livingston, pushing his way to her side. “We bag turncoats, and -thieves, and murthering runagates sometimes, even in ‘free America’; -and we know what to do with them when we do bag them. Friends,” he -cried, turning to the crowd, “do you know this fellow? He’s a greater -prize than the little Phillipse. ’Tis Big Jake of the Saw-mill--a -‘skinner’ one day and a ‘cow-boy’ next, as it suits his fancy and as -it brings him booty. I know him, and so does the water-guard. I am -Livingston, of Clermont Manor. Let down the lad, man, or we’ll turn you -over to the town-major. He’d like rarely to have a chance at you.” - -The crowd uttered a cry of rage as it closed excitedly around the burly -member of the lawless gang that had preyed upon the defenceless people -of the lower Hudson during the years of war and raid. The bully paled -at the sound, and loosed his hold upon the little Phillipse. Without -waiting to see the issue, young Livingston dragged the “little lord” -from the throng, while his companion, Master Clinton, hurried Dolly -along, and they were soon free from the crowd that was dealing roughly -enough with Big Jake of the Saw-mill. - -“Now, Dolly, let us go back to the farm before we get into further -trouble,” said Cousin Ned, a pleasant young fellow of eighteen, who -looked upon himself as the lawful protector of “the children.” - -“But what shall we do with our little lord of the manor, Cousin Ned?” -asked Dolly. - -“The safest plan is to take him with us,” he replied. - -“Oh, no, sir; no,” pleaded the little boy. “We sail to-day with Sir -Guy Carleton, and what will grandfather do without me?” And then he -told them how, early that morning, he had slipped away from Angevine, -Colonel Phillipse’s body-servant, passed through the barriers and -strolled up the Bowery lane to see the “rebel soldiers”; how he had -lost his way in the crowd, and was in sore distress and danger until -Dolly interfered; and how he thanked them “over and over again” for -protecting him. But “Oh, please, I must go back to my grandfather,” he -added. - -Little Mistress Dolly had a mind of her own, and she warmly championed -the cause of the “lost little lord,” as she called him. - -“Cousin Ned,” she said, “of course he must go to his grandfather, and -of course we must take him. Think how I should feel if they tried to -keep me from my father!” and Dolly’s sympathetic eyes filled at the -dreadful thought. - -“But how can we take him?” asked Cousin Ned. “How can we get past the -barriers?” - -A hundred years ago New York City proper extended northward only as -far as the present post-office, and during the Revolution a line of -earthworks was thrown across the island at that point to defend it -against assault from the north. The British sentinels at these barriers -were not to give up their posts to the Americans until one o’clock on -this eventful Evacuation Day, and Cousin Ned, therefore, could not well -see how they could pass the sentries. - -But young Master Clinton, a bright, curly-haired boy of thirteen, said -confidently: “Oh, that’s easily done.” And then, with a knowledge of -the highways and byways which many rambles through the dear old town -had given him, he unfolded his plan. “See here,” he said; “we’ll turn -down the Monument lane, just below us, cut across through General -Mortier’s woods to Mr. Nicholas Bayard’s, and so on to the Ranelagh -Gardens. From there we can easily get over to the Broad Way and the -Murray Street barrier before General Knox gets to the Fresh Water, -where he has been ordered to halt until one o’clock. When the guard at -the barrier knows that we have the little Baron of Phillipsbourg with -us, and has handled the two York sixpences you will give him, of course -he’ll let us pass. So, don’t you see, we can fix this little boy all -right, and, better yet, can see King George’s men go out and our troops -come in, and make just a splendid day of it.” - -Dolly, fully alive to these glorious possibilities, clapped her hands -delightedly. - -“What a brain the boy has!” said young Livingston. “Keep on, my son,” -he said patronizingly, “and you’ll make a great man yet.” - -“So I mean to be,” said De Witt Clinton cheerily, and then, heading the -little group, he followed out the route he had proposed. Ere long the -barriers were safely passed, Cousin Ned was two York sixpences out of -pocket, and the young people stood within the British lines. - -“And now, where may we find your grandfather, little one?” Cousin Ned -inquired, as they halted on the Broad Way beneath one of the tall -poplars that lined that old-time street. - -The little Phillipse could not well reply. The noise and confusion -that filled the city had well-nigh turned his head. For what with the -departing English troops, the disconsolate loyalist refugees hurrying -for transportation to distant English ports, and the zealous citizens -who were making great preparations to welcome the incoming soldiers -of the Congress, the streets of the little city were full of bustle -and excitement. The boy said his grandfather might be at the fort; he -might be at the King’s Arms Tavern, near Stone Street; he might be--he -_would_ be--hunting for him. - -So Master Clinton suggested: “Let’s go down to Mr. Day’s tavern here in -Murray Street. He knows me, and, if he can, will find Colonel Phillipse -for us.” Down into Murray Street therefore they turned, and, near the -road to Greenwich, saw the tavern--a long, low-roofed house, gable end -to the street--around which an excited crowd surged and shouted. - -“Why, look there,” Master Clinton cried; “look there; and the king’s -men not yet gone!” and, following the direction of his finger, they -saw with surprise the stars and stripes, the flag of the new republic, -floating from the pole before the tavern. - -“Huzza!” they shouted with the rest, but the “little lord” said, -somewhat contemptuously, “Why, ’tis the rebel flag--or so my -grandfather calls it.” - -“Rebel no longer, little one,” said Cousin Ned, “as even your good -grandfather must now admit. But surely,” he added anxiously, “Mr. Day -will get himself in trouble by raising his flag before our troops come -in.” - -An angry shout now rose from the throng around the flag-staff, and as -the fringe of small boys scattered and ran in haste, young Livingston -caught one of them by the arm. “What’s the trouble, lad?” he asked. - -“Let go!” said the boy, struggling to free himself. “You’d better -scatter, too, or Cunningham will catch you. He’s ordered down Day’s -flag and says he’ll clear the crowd.” - -They all knew who Cunningham was--the cruel and vindictive British -provost-marshal; the starver of American prisoners and the terror of -American children. “Come away, quick,” said Cousin Ned. But though they -drew off at first, curiosity was too strong, and they were soon in the -crowd again. - -Cunningham, the marshal, stood at the foot of the flag-pole. “Come, -you rebel cur,” he said to Mr. Day. “I give you two minutes to haul -down that rag--two minutes, d’ye hear, or into the Provost you go. Your -beggarly troops are not in possession here yet, and I’ll have no such -striped rag as that flying in the faces of His Majesty’s forces!” - -“There it is, and there it shall stay,” said Day, quietly but firmly. - -Cunningham turned to his guard. - -“Arrest that man,” he ordered. “And as for this thing here, I’ll haul -it down myself,” and seizing the halyards, he began to lower the flag. -The crowd broke out into fierce murmurs, uncertain what to do. But in -the midst of the tumult the door of the tavern flew open, and forth -sallied Mrs. Day, “fair, fat, and forty,” armed with her trusty broom. - -“Hands off that flag, you villain, and drop my husband!” she cried, -and before the astonished Cunningham could realize the situation, the -broom came down thwack! thwack! upon his powdered wig. Old men still -lived, not thirty years ago, who were boys in that excited crowd, and -remembered how the powder flew from the stiff white wig and how, amidst -jeers and laughter, the defeated provost-marshal withdrew from the -unequal contest, and fled before the resistless sweep of Mrs. Day’s -all-conquering broom. And the flag did not come down. - -From the vantage-ground of a projecting “stoop” our young friends had -indulged in irreverent laughter, and the marshal’s quick ears caught -the sound. - -Fuming with rage and seeking some one to vent his anger on, he rushed -up the “stoop” and bade his guard drag down the culprits. - -“What pestilent young rebels have we here?” he growled. “Who are you?” -He started as they gave their names. “Livingston? Clinton? Duane?” he -repeated. “Well, well--a rare lot this of the rebel brood! And who is -yon young bantling in velvet and ruffles?” - -“You must not stop us, sir,” said the boy, facing the angry marshal. -“I am the little lord of the manor, and my grandfather is Colonel -Phillipse. Sir Guy Carleton is waiting for me.” - -“Well, well,” exclaimed the surprised marshal; “here’s a fine to-do! -A Phillipse in this rebel lot! What does it mean? Have ye kidnapped -the lad? Here may be some treachery. Bring them along!” and with as -much importance as if he had captured a whole corps of Washington’s -dragoons, instead of a few harmless children, the young prisoners were -hurried off, followed by an indignant crowd. Dolly was considerably -frightened, and dark visions of the stocks, the whipping-post, and the -ducking-stool by the Collect pond rose before her eyes. But Cousin Ned -whispered: “Don’t be afraid, Dolly--’twill all be right”; and Master -Clinton even sought to argue with the marshal. - -“There are no rebels now, sir,” he said, “since your king has given up -the fight. You yourselves are rebels, rather, if you restrain us of our -freedom. I know your king’s proclamation word for word. It says: ‘We do -hereby strictly charge and command all our officers, both at sea and -land, and all other our subjects whatsoever, to forbear all acts of -hostility, either by sea or land, against the United States of America, -their vassals or subjects, under the penalty of incurring our highest -displeasure.’ Wherefore, Sir,” concluded this wise young pleader, “if -you keep us in unlawful custody, you do brave your king’s displeasure.” - -“You impudent young rebel----” began Cunningham; but the “little lord” -interrupted him with: “You shall not take us to jail, sir, I will tell -my grandfather, and he will make Sir Guy punish you.” And upon this the -provost-marshal, whose wrath had somewhat cooled, began to fear that he -might, perhaps, have exceeded his authority, and ere long, with a sour -look and a surly word, he set the young people free. - - * * * * * - -Sir Guy Carleton, K. C. B., commander-in-chief of all His Majesty’s -forces in the colonies, stood at the foot of the flag-staff on the -northern bastion of Fort George. Before him filed the departing troops -of his king, evacuating the pleasant little city they had occupied -for more than seven years. “There might be seen,” says one of the -old records, “the Hessian, with his towering, brass-fronted cap, -moustache colored with the same blacking which colored his shoes, his -hair plastered with tallow and flour, and reaching in whip-form to -his waist. His uniform was a blue coat, yellow vest and breeches, and -black gaiters. The Highlander, with his low checked bonnet, his tartan -or plaid, short red coat, his kilt above his knees, and they exposed, -his hose short and parti-colored. There were also the grenadiers -of Anspach, with towering yellow caps; the gaudy Waldeckers, with -their cocked hats edged with yellow scallops; the German yägers, and -the various corps of English in glittering and gallant pomp.” The -white-capped waves of the beautiful bay sparkled in the sunlight, -while the whale-boats, barges, gigs, and launches sped over the water, -bearing troops and refugees to the transports, or to the temporary -camp on Staten Island. The last act of the evacuation was almost -completed. But Sir Guy Carleton looked troubled. His eye wandered from -the departing troops at Whitehall slip to the gate at Bowling Green, -and then across the parade to the Governor’s gardens and the town -beyond. - -“Well, sir, what word from Colonel Phillipse?” he inquired, as an aide -hurried to his side. - -“He bids you go without him, General,” the aide reported. “The boy is -not yet found, but the Colonel says he will risk seizure rather than -leave the lad behind.” - -“It cannot well be helped,” said the British commander. “I will myself -dispatch a line to General Washington, requesting due courtesy and safe -conduct for Colonel Phillipse and his missing heir. But see--whom have -we here?” he asked, as across the parade came a rumbling coach, while -behind it a covered cariole came tearing through the gateway. Ere the -bastion on which the General stood was reached the cariole drew up with -sudden stop. Angevine, the black body-servant, sprang to the horses’ -heads, and a very large man hatless, though richly dressed, descended -hastily and flung open the door of the coach just as Mistress Dolly was -preparing to descend, and as he helped her out he caught in his ample -arms the little fellow who followed close at her heels. - -“Good; the lost is found!” exclaimed Sir Guy, who had been an -interested spectator of the pantomime. - -“All is well, General,” Colonel Phillipse cried joyfully, as the -commander came down from the bastion and welcomed the new-comers. “My -little lord of the manor is found; and, faith, his loss troubled me -more than all the attainder and forfeiture the rebel Congress can crowd -upon me.” - -“But how got he here?” Sir Guy asked. - -“This fair little lady is both his rescuer and protector,” replied the -grandfather. - -“And who may you be, little mistress?” asked the commander-in-chief. - -Dolly made a neat little curtsy, for those were the days of good -manners, and she was a proper little damsel. “I am Dolly Duane, your -Excellency,” she said, “daughter of Mr. James Duane of the Congress.” - -“Duane!” exclaimed the Colonel; “Well, well, little one, I did not -think a Phillipse would ever acknowledge himself debtor to a Duane, -but now do I gladly do it. Bear my compliments to your father, -sweet Mistress Dolly, and tell him that his old enemy, Phillipse, -of Phillipsbourg, will never forget the kindly aid of his gentle -little daughter, who has this day restored a lost lad to a sorrowing -grandfather. And let me thus show my gratitude for your love and -service,” and the very large man, stooping in all courtesy before the -little girl, laid his hand in blessing on her head, and kissed her fair -young face. - -“A rare little maiden, truly,” said gallant Sir Guy: “and though I -have small cause to favor so hot an enemy of the king as is Mr. James -Duane, I admire his dutiful little daughter; and thus would I, too, -render her love and service,” and the gleaming scarlet and gold-laced -arms of the courtly old commander encircled fair Mistress Dolly, and -a hearty kiss fell upon her blushing cheeks. But she was equal to the -occasion. Raising herself on tiptoe, she dropped a dainty kiss upon the -General’s smiling face, and said, “Let this, sir, be America’s good-bye -kiss to your Excellency.” - -“A right royal salute,” said Sir Guy. “Mr. De Lancy, bid the -band-master give us the farewell march,” and to the strains of -appropriate music the commander-in-chief and his staff passed down to -the boats and the little lord of Phillipse Manor waved Mistress Dolly a -last farewell. - -Then the Red Cross of St. George, England’s royal flag, came -fluttering down from its high staff on the north bastion, and the -last of the rear-guard wheeled toward the slip. But Cunningham, the -provost-marshal, still angered by the thought of his discomfiture -at Day’s tavern, declared roundly that no rebel flag should go up -that staff in sight of King George’s men. “Come lively now, you -blue jackets,” he shouted, turning to some of the sailors from the -fleet. “Unreeve the halyards, quick; slush down the pole; knock off -the stepping-cleats! Then let them run their rag up if they can.” -His orders were quickly obeyed. The halyards were speedily cut, the -stepping-cleats knocked from the staff, and the tall pole covered -with grease, so that none might climb it. And with this final act -of unsoldierly discourtesy, the memory of which has lived through a -hundred busy years, the provost-marshal left the now liberated city. - -Even Sir Guy’s gallant kiss could not rid Dolly of her fear of -Cunningham’s frown; but as she scampered off she heard his final order, -and, hot with indignation, told the news to Cousin Ned and Master -Clinton, who were in waiting for her on the Bowling Green. The younger -lad was for stirring up the people to instant action, but just then -they heard the roll of drums, and, standing near the ruins of King -George’s statue, watched the advance-guard of the Continental troops as -they filed in to take possession of the fort. Beneath the high gateway -and straight toward the north bastion marched the detachment--a troop -of horse, a regiment of infantry, and a company of artillery. The -batteries, the parapets, and the ramparts were thronged with cheering -people, and Colonel Jackson, halting before the flag-staff, ordered up -the stars and stripes. - -“The halyards are cut, Colonel,” reported the color-sergeant; “the -cleats are gone, and the pole is slushed.” - -“A mean trick, indeed,” exclaimed the indignant Colonel. “Hallo there, -lads, will you be outwitted by such a scurvy trick! Look where they -wait in their boats to give us the laugh. Will you let tainted Tories -and buttermilk Whigs thus shame us? A gold jacobus to him who will -climb the staff and reeve the halyards for the stars and stripes.” - -Dolly’s quick ear caught the ringing words. “Oh, Cousin Ned,” she -cried, “I saw Jacky Van Arsdale on the Bowling Green. Don’t you -remember how he climbed the greased pole at Clermont, in the May -merrying?” and with that she sped across the parade and through the -gateway, returning soon with a stout sailor-boy of fifteen. “Now tell -the Colonel you’ll try it, Jacky.” - -“Go it, Jack!” shouted Cousin Ned. “I’ll make the gold jacobus two if -you but reeve the halyards.” - -“I want no money for the job, Master Livingston,” said the sailor-lad. -“I’ll do it if I can for Mistress Dolly’s sake.” - -Jack was an expert climber, but if any of my boy readers think it -a simple thing to “shin up” a greased pole, just let them try it -once--and fail. - -Jack Van Arsdale tried it manfully once, twice, thrice, and each time -came slipping down covered with slush and shame. And all the watchers -in the boats off-shore joined in a chorus of laughs and jeers. Jack -shook his fist at them angrily. “I’ll fix ’em yet,” he said. “If ye’ll -but saw me up some cleats, and give me hammer and nails, I’ll run that -flag to the top in spite of all the Tories from ’Sopus to Sandy Hook!” - -Ready hands and willing feet came to the assistance of the plucky -lad. Some ran swiftly to Mr. Goelet’s, “the iron-monger’s” in Hanover -Square, and brought quickly back “a hand-saw, hatchet, hammer, gimlets, -and nails”; others drew a long board to the bastion, and while one -sawed the board into lengths, another split the strips into cleats, -others bored the nail-holes, and soon young Jack had material enough. - -Then, tying the halyards around his waist, and filling his jacket -pockets with cleats and nails, he worked his way up the flag-pole, -nailing and climbing as he went. And now he reaches the top, now the -halyards are reeved, and as the beautiful flag goes fluttering up the -staff a mighty cheer is heard, and a round of thirteen guns salutes the -stars and stripes and the brave sailor-boy who did the gallant deed! - -From the city streets came the roll and rumble of distant drums, and -Dolly and her two companions, following the excited crowd, hastened -across Hanover Square, and from an excellent outlook in the Fly Market -watched the whole grand procession as it wound down Queen (now Pearl) -Street, making its triumphal entry into the welcoming city. First came -a corps of dragoons, then followed the advance-guard of light infantry -and a corps of artillery, then more light infantry, a battalion of -Massachusetts troops, and the rear-guard. As the veterans, with their -soiled and faded uniforms, filed past, Dolly could not help contrasting -them with the brilliant appearance of the British troops she had seen -in the fort. “Their clothes _do_ look worn and rusty,” she said. “But -then,” she added, with beaming eyes, “they are _our_ soldiers, and that -is everything.” - -And now she hears “a great hozaing all down the Fly,” as one record -queerly puts it, and as the shouts increase, she sees a throng of -horsemen, where, escorted by Captain Delavan’s “West Chester Light -Horse,” ride the heroes of that happy hour, General George Washington -and Governor George Clinton. Dolly added her clear little treble to -the loud huzzas as the famous commander-in-chief rode down the echoing -street. Behind their excellencies came other officials, dignitaries, -army officers, and files of citizens, on horseback and afoot, many of -the latter returning to dismantled and ruined homes after nearly eight -years of exile. - -But Dolly did not wait to see the whole procession. She had spied her -father in the line of mounted citizens and flying across Queen Street, -and around by Golden Hill (near Maiden Lane), where the first blood of -the Revolution was spilled, she hurried down the Broad Way, so as to -reach Mr. Cape’s tavern before their excellencies arrived. - -Soon she was in her father’s arms relating her adventures, and as she -received his chidings for mingling in such “unseemly crowds,” and his -praise for her championship and protection of the little Phillipse, -a kindly hand was laid upon her fair young head, and a voice whose -tones she could never forget said: “So may our children be angels of -peace, Mr. Duane. Few have suffered more, or deserved better from their -country, sir, than you; but the possession of so rare a little daughter -is a fairer recompense than aught your country can bestow. Heaven has -given me no children, sir; but had I thus been blessed, I could have -wished for no gentler or truer-hearted little daughter than this maid -of yours.” And with the stately courtesy that marked the time, General -Washington bent down and kissed little Dolly as she sat on her father’s -knee. Touched by his kindly words, Dolly forgot all her awe of the -great man. Flinging two winsome arms about his neck, she kissed him in -return, and said softly: “If Mr. Duane were not my father, sir, I would -rather it should be you than any one else.” - -In all her after-life, though she retained pleasant memories of Sir -Guy Carleton, and thought him a grand and gallant gentleman, Dolly -Duane held still more firmly to her reverence and affection for General -Washington, whom she described as “looking more grand and noble than -any human being she had ever seen.” - -Next to General Washington, I think she held the fireworks that were -set off in the Bowling Green in honor of the Peace to have been the -grandest thing she had ever seen. The rockets, and the wheels, and the -tourbillions, and the batteries, and the stars were all so wonderful to -her, that General Knox said Dolly’s “ohs” and “ahs” were “as good as a -play”; and staid Master Clinton and jolly Cousin Ned threatened to send -to the Ferry stairs for an anchor to hold her down. Both these young -gentlemen grew to be famous Americans in after years, and witnessed -many anniversaries of this glorious Evacuation Day. But they never -enjoyed any of them quite as much as they did the exciting original, -nor could they ever forget, amidst all the throng of memories, how -sweet Mistress Dolly Duane championed and protected the lost “little -lord of the manor,” and won the distinguished honor of being kissed by -both the commanders-in-chief on the same eventful day. - - - - -OLD ESTHER DUDLEY[C] - -BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE - - The Province House in Boston was the home of the Royal Governors of - Massachusetts. This is the story of how the stately, spectre-haunted - old Housekeeper, even after the departure of the last Royal Governor - and the triumph of the Colonies, remained “faithful unto death” to - her Sovereign Lord King George. - - -The hour had come--the hour of defeat and humiliation--when Sir William -Howe was to pass over the threshold of the Province House, and embark, -with no such triumphal ceremonies as he once promised himself, on board -the British fleet. He bade his servants and military attendants go -before him, and lingered a moment in the loneliness of the mansion, -to quell the fierce emotions that struggled in his bosom as with a -death-throb. Preferable, then, would he have deemed his fate had a -warrior’s death left him a claim to the narrow territory of a grave -within the soil which the king had given him to defend. With an ominous -perception that, as his departing footsteps echoed adown the staircase, -the sway of Britain was passing forever from New England, he smote his -clinched hand on his brow, and cursed the destiny that had flung the -shame of a dismembered empire upon him. - -“Would to God,” cried he, hardly repressing his tears of rage, “that -the rebels were even now at the doorstep! A bloodstain upon the floor -should then bear testimony that the last British ruler was faithful to -his trust.” - -The tremulous voice of a woman replied to his exclamation. - -“Heaven’s cause and the King’s are one,” it said. “Go forth, Sir -William Howe, and trust in Heaven to bring back a royal governor in -triumph.” - -Subduing at once the passion to which he had yielded only in the faith -that it was unwitnessed, Sir William Howe became conscious that an aged -woman, leaning on a gold-headed staff, was standing betwixt him and the -door. It was old Esther Dudley, who had dwelt almost immemorial years -in this mansion, until her presence seemed as inseparable from it as -the recollections of its history. She was the daughter of an ancient -and once eminent family, which had fallen into poverty and decay, and -left its last descendant no resource save the bounty of the king, nor -any shelter except within the walls of the Province House. An office -in the household, with merely nominal duties, had been assigned to her -as a pretext for the payment of a small pension, the greater part of -which she expended in adorning herself with an antique magnificence of -attire. The claims of Esther Dudley’s gentle blood were acknowledged -by all the successive governors; and they treated her with the -punctilious courtesy which it was her foible to demand, not always -with success, from a neglectful world. The only actual share which -she assumed in the business of the mansion was to glide through its -passages and public chambers, late at night, to see that the servants -had dropped no fire from their flaring torches, nor left embers -crackling and blazing on the hearths. Perhaps it was this invariable -custom of walking her rounds in the hush of midnight that caused the -superstition of the times to invest the old woman with attributes -of awe and mystery; fabling that she had entered the portal of the -Province House, none knew whence, in the train of the first royal -governor, and that it was her fate to dwell there till the last should -have departed. But Sir William Howe, if he ever heard this legend, had -forgotten it. - -“Mistress Dudley, why are you loitering here?” asked he, with some -severity of tone. “It is my pleasure to be the last in this mansion of -the king.” - -“Not so, if it please your Excellency,” answered the time-stricken -woman. “This roof has sheltered me long. I will not pass from it until -they bear me to the tomb of my forefathers. What other shelter is there -for old Esther Dudley save the Province House or the grave?” - -“Now Heaven forgive me!” said Sir William Howe to himself. “I was -about to leave this wretched old creature to starve or beg. Take this, -good Mistress Dudley,” he added, putting a purse into her hands. -“King George’s head on these golden guineas is sterling yet, and will -continue so, I warrant you, even should the rebels crown John Hancock -their king. That purse will buy a better shelter than the Province -House can now afford.” - -“While the burden of life remains upon me, I will have no other shelter -than this roof,” persisted Esther Dudley, striking her staff upon the -floor with a gesture that expressed immovable resolve. “And when your -Excellency returns in triumph, I will totter into the porch to welcome -you.” - -“My poor old friend!” answered the British General; and all his manly -and martial pride could no longer restrain a gush of bitter tears. -“This is an evil hour for you and me. The province which the king -intrusted to my charge is lost. I go hence in misfortune--perchance -in disgrace--to return no more. And you, whose present being is -incorporated with the past--who have seen governor after governor, in -stately pageantry, ascend these steps--whose whole life has been an -observance of majestic ceremonies, and a worship of the king--how will -you endure the change? Come with us! Bid farewell to a land that has -shaken off its allegiance, and live still under a royal government, at -Halifax.” - -“Never, never!” said the pertinacious old dame. “Here will I abide; -and King George shall still have one true subject in his disloyal -province.” - -“Beshrew the old fool!” muttered Sir William Howe, growing impatient -of her obstinacy, and ashamed of the emotion into which he had been -betrayed. “She is the very moral of old-fashioned prejudice, and could -exist nowhere but in this musty edifice. Well, then, Mistress Dudley, -since you will needs tarry, I give the Province House in charge to -you. Take this key, and keep it safe until myself, or some other royal -governor, shall demand it of you.” - -Smiling bitterly at himself and her, he took the heavy key of the -Province House, and, delivering it into the old lady’s hands, drew his -cloak around him for departure. As the General glanced back at Esther -Dudley’s antique figure, he deemed her well fitted for such a charge, -as being so perfect a representative of the decayed past--of an age -gone by, with its manners, opinions, faith, and feelings all fallen -into oblivion or scorn--of what had once been a reality, but was now -merely a vision of faded magnificence. Then Sir William Howe strode -forth, smiting his clenched hands together in the fierce anguish of -his spirit; and old Esther Dudley was left to keep watch in the lonely -Province House, dwelling there with memory; and if Hope ever seemed to -flit around her, still it was Memory in disguise. - -The total change of affairs that ensued on the departure of the British -troops did not drive the venerable lady from her stronghold. There was -not, for many years afterward, a governor of Massachusetts; and the -magistrates, who had charge of such matters, saw no objection to Esther -Dudley’s residence in the Province House, especially as they must -otherwise have paid a hireling for taking care of the premises, which -with her was a labor of love. And so they left her, the undisturbed -mistress of the old historic edifice. Many and strange were the fables -which the gossips whispered about her, in all the chimney-corners of -the town. Among the time-worn articles of furniture that had been left -in the mansion there was a tall, antique mirror, which was well worthy -of a tale by itself, and perhaps may hereafter be the theme of one. -The gold of its heavily wrought frame was tarnished, and its surface -so blurred that the old woman’s figure, whenever she paused before -it, looked indistinct and ghostlike. But it was the general belief -that Esther could cause the governors of the overthrown dynasty, with -the beautiful ladies who had once adorned their festivals, the Indian -chiefs who had come up to the Province House to hold council or swear -allegiance, the grim, provincial warriors, the severe clergymen--in -short, all the pageantry of gone days--all the figures that ever -swept across the broad plate of glass in former times--she could -cause the whole to reappear, and people the inner world of the mirror -with shadows of old life. Such legends as these, together with the -singularity of her isolated existence, her age, and the infirmity -that each added winter flung upon her, made Mistress Dudley the -object both of fear and pity; and it was partly the result of either -sentiment that, amid all the angry license of the times, neither wrong -nor insult ever fell upon her unprotected head. Indeed, there was so -much haughtiness in her demeanor toward intruders, among whom she -reckoned all persons acting under the new authorities, that it was -really an affair of no small nerve to look her in the face. And to do -the people justice, stern republicans as they had now become, they -were well content that the old gentlewoman, in her hoop petticoat and -faded embroidery, should still haunt the palace of ruined pride and -overthrown power, the symbol of a departed system, embodying a history -in her person. So Esther Dudley dwelt, year after year, in the Province -House, still reverencing all that others had flung aside, still -faithful to her king, who, so long as the venerable dame yet held her -post, might be said to retain one true subject in New England, and one -spot of the empire that had been wrested from him. - -And did she dwell there in utter loneliness? Rumor said, not so. -Whenever her chill and withered heart desired warmth, she was wont to -summon a black slave of Governor Shirley’s from the blurred mirror, and -send him in search of guests who had long ago been familiar in those -deserted chambers. Forth went the sable messenger, with the starlight -or the moonshine gleaming through him, and did his errand in the -burial-ground, knocking at the iron doors of tombs, or upon the marble -slabs that covered them, and whispering to those within, “My mistress, -old Esther Dudley, bids you to the Province House at midnight.” And -punctually as the clock of the Old South told twelve came the shadows -of the Olivers, the Hutchinsons, the Dudleys, all the grandees of a -bygone generation, gliding beneath the portal into the well-known -mansion, where Esther mingled with them as if she likewise were a -shade. Without vouching for the truth of such traditions, it is certain -that Mistress Dudley sometimes assembled a few of the stanch though -crestfallen old Tories who had lingered in the rebel town during those -days of wrath and tribulation. Out of a cobwebbed bottle, containing -liquor that a royal governor might have smacked his lips over, they -quaffed healths to the king, and babbled treason to the Republic, -feeling as if the protecting shadow of the throne were still flung -around them. But, draining the last drops of their liquor, they stole -timorously homeward, and answered not again if the rude mob reviled -them in the street. - -Yet Esther Dudley’s most frequent and favored guests were the children -of the town. Toward them she was never stern. A kindly and loving -nature, hindered elsewhere from its free course by a thousand rocky -prejudices, lavished itself upon these little ones. By bribes of -gingerbread of her own making, stamped with a royal crown, she tempted -their sunny sportiveness beneath the gloomy portal of the Province -House, and would often beguile them to spend a whole play-day there, -sitting in a circle round the verge of her hoop petticoat, greedily -attentive to her stories of a dead world. And when these little boys -and girls stole forth again from the dark, mysterious mansion, they -went bewildered, full of old feelings that graver people had long ago -forgotten, rubbing their eyes at the world around them as if they had -gone astray into ancient times, and become children of the past. At -home, when their parents asked where they had loitered such a weary -while, and with whom they had been at play, the children would talk -of all the departed worthies of the province, as far back as Governor -Belcher, and the haughty dame of Sir William Phipps. It would seem as -though they had been sitting on the knees of these famous personages, -whom the grave had hidden for half a century, and had toyed with the -embroidery of their rich waistcoats, or roguishly pulled the long -curls of their flowing wigs. “But Governor Belcher has been dead this -many a year,” would the mother say to her little boy. “And did you -really see him at the Province House?” “Oh, yes, dear mother! Yes!” -the half-dreaming child would answer. “But when old Esther had done -speaking about him he faded away out of his chair.” Thus, without -affrighting her little guests, she led them by the hand into the -chambers of her own desolate heart, and made childhood’s fancy discern -the ghosts that haunted there. - -Living so continually in her own circle of ideas, and never regulating -her mind by a proper reference to present things, Esther Dudley -appears to have grown partially crazed. It was found that she had no -right sense of the progress and true state of the Revolutionary War, -but held a constant faith that the armies of Britain were victorious -on every field, and destined to be ultimately triumphant. Whenever the -town rejoiced for a battle won by Washington, or Gates, or Morgan, or -Greene, the news, in passing through the door of the Province House, as -through the ivory gate of dreams, became metamorphosed into a strange -tale of the prowess of Howe, Clinton, or Cornwallis. Sooner or later, -it was her invincible belief, the colonies would be prostrate at the -footstool of the king. Sometimes she seemed to take for granted that -such was already the case. On one occasion she startled the townspeople -by a brilliant illumination of the Province House, with candles at -every pane of glass, and a transparency of the king’s initials and a -crown of light in the great balcony window. The figure of the aged -woman, in the most gorgeous of her mildewed velvets and brocades, was -seen passing from casement to casement, until she paused before the -balcony, and flourished a huge key above her head. Her wrinkled visage -actually gleamed with triumph, as if the soul within her were a festal -lamp. - -“What means this blaze of light? What does old Esther’s joy portend?” -whispered a spectator. “It is frightful to see her gliding about the -chambers, and rejoicing there without a soul to bear her company.” - -“It is as if she were making merry in a tomb,” said another. - -“Pshaw! It is no such mystery,” observed an old man, after some brief -exercise of memory. “Mistress Dudley is keeping jubilee for the King -of England’s birthday.” Then the people laughed aloud, and would -have thrown mud against the blazing transparency of the king’s crown -and initials, only that they pitied the poor old dame, who was so -dismally triumphant amid the wreck and ruin of the system to which she -appertained. - -Oftentimes it was her custom to climb the weary staircase that wound -upward to the cupola, and thence strain her dimmed eyesight seaward -and countryward, watching for a British fleet, or for the march of -a grand procession, with the king’s banner floating over it. The -passengers in the street below would discern her anxious visage, and -send up a shout, “When the golden Indian on the Province House shall -shoot his arrow, and when the cock on the Old South spire shall crow, -then look for a royal governor again!”--for this had grown a byword -through the town. And at last, after long, long years, old Esther -Dudley knew, or perchance she only dreamed, that a royal governor was -on the eve of returning to the Province House, to receive the heavy -key which Sir William Howe had committed to her charge. Now it was the -fact that intelligence bearing some faint analogy to Esther’s version -of it was current among the townspeople. She set the mansion in the -best order that her means allowed, and, arraying herself in silks and -tarnished gold, stood long before the blurred mirror to admire her own -magnificence. As she gazed, the gray and withered lady moved her ashen -lips, murmuring half aloud, talking to shapes that she saw within the -mirror, to shadows of her own fantasies, to the household friends of -memory, and bidding them rejoice with her, and come forth to meet the -governor. And, while absorbed in this communion, Mistress Dudley heard -the tramp of many footsteps in the street, and, looking out at the -window, beheld what she construed as the royal governor’s arrival. - -“O happy day! O blessed, blessed hour!” she exclaimed. “Let me but bid -him welcome within the portal, and my task in the Province House, and -on earth, is done!” - -Then with tottering feet, which age and tremulous joy caused to tread -amiss, she hurried down the grand staircase, her silks sweeping and -rustling as she went, so that the sound was as if a train of spectral -courtiers were thronging from the dim mirror. And Esther Dudley fancied -that, as soon as the wide door should be flung open, all the pomp and -splendor of bygone times would pace majestically into the Province -House, and the gilded tapestry of the past would be brightened by the -sunshine of the present. She turned the key, withdrew it from the -lock, unclosed the door, and stepped across the threshold. Advancing -up the courtyard appeared a person of most dignified mien, with -tokens, as Esther interpreted them, of gentle blood, high rank, and -long-accustomed authority, even in his walk and every gesture. He was -richly dressed, but wore a gouty shoe, which, however, did not lessen -the stateliness of his gait. Around and behind him were people in -plain civic dresses, and two or three war-worn veterans, evidently -officers of rank, arrayed in a uniform of blue and buff. But Esther -Dudley, firm in the belief that had fastened its roots about her heart, -beheld only the principal personage, and never doubted that this was -the long-looked-for governor, to whom she was to surrender up her -charge. As he approached, she involuntarily sank down on her knees, and -tremblingly held forth the heavy key. - -“Receive my trust! take it quickly!” cried she; “for methinks Death is -striving to snatch away my triumph. But he comes too late. Thank Heaven -for this blessed hour! God save King George!” - -“That, madam, is a strange prayer to be offered up at such a moment,” -replied the unknown guest of the Province House, and, courteously -removing his hat, he offered his arm to raise the aged woman. “Yet, in -reverence for your gray hairs and long-kept faith, Heaven forbid that -any here should say you nay. Over the realms which still acknowledge -his sceptre, God save King George!” - -Esther Dudley started to her feet, and, hastily clutching back the -key, gazed with fearful earnestness at the stranger; and dimly and -doubtfully, as if suddenly awakened from a dream, her bewildered eyes -half recognized his face. Years ago she had known him among the gentry -of the province. But the ban of the king had fallen upon him! How, -then, came the doomed victim here? Proscribed, excluded from mercy, the -monarch’s most dreaded and hated foe, this New England merchant had -stood triumphantly against a kingdom’s strength; and his foot now trod -upon humbled royalty as he ascended the steps of the Province House, -the people’s chosen governor of Massachusetts. - -“Wretch, wretch that I am!” muttered the old woman, with such a -heart-broken expression that the tears gushed from the stranger’s eyes. -“Have I bidden a traitor welcome? Come, Death! come quickly!” - -“Alas, venerable lady!” said Governor Hancock, lending her his support -with all the reverence that a courtier would have shown to a queen. -“Your life has been prolonged until the world has changed around -you. You have treasured up all that time has rendered worthless--the -principles, feelings, manners, modes of being and acting, which another -generation has flung aside--and you are a symbol of the past. And I, -and these around me--we represent a new race of men--living no longer -in the past, scarcely in the present--but projecting our lives forward -into the future. Ceasing to model ourselves on ancestral superstitions, -it is our faith and principle to press onward, onward! Yet,” continued -he, turning to his attendants, “let us reverence, for the last time, -the stately and gorgeous prejudices of the tottering Past!” - -While the republican governor spoke he had continued to support the -helpless form of Esther Dudley; her weight grew heavier against his -arm; but at last, with a sudden effort to free herself, the ancient -woman sank down beside one of the pillars of the portal. The key of the -Province House fell from her grasp, and clanked against the stone. - -“I have been faithful unto death,” murmured she. “God save the king!” - -“She hath done her office!” said Hancock solemnly. “We will follow her -reverently to the tomb of her ancestors; and then, my fellow-citizens, -onward, onward! We are no longer children of the Past!” - - - - -BETTY’S RIDE: A TALE OF THE REVOLUTION[D] - -By HENRY S. CANBY - - The story of a brave little Quaker girl’s perilous ride. How she - saved the lives of many hard-pressed patriots, and won praise from - the lips of General Washington, himself. - - -The sun was just rising and showering his first rays on the gambrel -roof and solid stone walls of a house surrounded by a magnificent grove -of walnuts, and overlooking one of the beautiful valleys so common -in southeastern Pennsylvania. Close by the house, and shaded by the -same great trees, stood a low building of the most severe type, whose -time-stained bricks and timbers green with moss told its age without -the aid of the half-obliterated inscription over the door, which read, -“Built A. D. 1720.” One familiar with the country would have pronounced -it without hesitation a Quaker meeting-house, dating back almost to the -time of William Penn. - -When Ezra Dale had become the leader of the little band of Quakers -which gathered here every First Day, he had built the house under the -walnut trees, and had taken his wife Ann and his little daughter Betty -to live there. That was in 1770, seven years earlier, and before war -had wrought sorrow and desolation throughout the country. - -The sun rose higher, and just as his beams touched the broad stone step -in front of the house, the door opened, and Ann Dale, a sweet-faced -woman in the plain Quaker garb, came out, followed by Betty, a little -blue-eyed Quakeress of twelve years, with a gleam of spirit in her face -which ill became her plain dress. - -“Betty,” said her mother, as they walked out toward the great horse -block by the roadside, “thee must keep house to-day. Friend Robert -has just sent thy father word that the redcoats have not crossed the -Brandywine since Third Day last, and thy father and I will ride to -Chester to-day, that there may be other than corn-cakes and bacon for -the friends who come to us after monthly meeting. Mind thee keeps near -the house and finishes thy sampler.” - -“Yes, mother,” said Betty; “but will thee not come home early? I shall -miss thee sadly.” - -Just then Ezra appeared, wearing his collarless Quaker coat, and -leading a horse saddled with a great pillion, into which Ann -laboriously climbed after her husband, and with a final warning and -“farewell” to Betty, clasped him tightly around the waist lest she -should be jolted off as they jogged down the rough and winding lane -into the broad Chester highway. - -Friend Ann had many reasons for fearing to leave Betty alone for a -whole day, and she looked back anxiously at her waving “farewell” with -her little bonnet. - -It was a troublous time. - -The Revolution was at its height, and the British, who had a short time -before disembarked their army near Elkton, Maryland, were now encamped -near White Clay Creek, while Washington occupied the country bordering -on the Brandywine. His force, however, was small compared to the extent -of the country to be guarded, and bands of the British sometimes -crossed the Brandywine and foraged in the fertile counties of Delaware -and Chester. As Betty’s father, although a Quaker and a non-combatant, -was known to be a patriot, he had to suffer the fortunes of war with -his neighbors. - -Thus it was with many forebodings that Betty’s mother watched the -slight figure under the spreading branches of a great chestnut, which -seemed to rustle its innumerable leaves as if to promise protection to -the little maid. However, the sun shone brightly, the swallows chirped -as they circled overhead, and nothing seemed farther off than battle -and bloodshed. - -Betty skipped merrily into the house, and snatching up some broken -corn-cake left from the morning meal, ran lightly out to the paddock -where Daisy was kept, her own horse, which she had helped to raise from -a colt. - -“Come thee here, Daisy,” she said, as she seated herself on the top -rail of the mossy snake fence. “Come thee here, and thee shall have -some of thy mistress’s corn-cake. Ah! I thought thee would like it. Now -go and eat all thee can of this good grass, for if the wicked redcoats -come again, thee will not have another chance, I can tell thee.” - -Daisy whinnied and trotted off, while Betty, feeding the few chickens -(sadly reduced in numbers by numerous raids), returned to the house, -and getting her sampler, sat down under a walnut tree to sew on the -stint which her mother had given her. - -All was quiet save the chattering of the squirrels overhead and the -drowsy hum of the bees, when from around the curve in the road she -heard a shot; then another nearer, and then a voice shouting commands, -and the thud of hoof-beats farther down the valley. She jumped up with -a startled cry: “The redcoats! The redcoats! Oh, what shall I do!” - -Just then the foremost of a scattered band of soldiers, their -buff and blue uniforms and ill-assorted arms showing them to be -Americans, appeared in full flight around the curve in the road, and -springing over the fence, dashed across the pasture straight for the -meeting-house. Through the broad gateway they poured, and forcing open -the door of the meeting-house, rushed within and began to barricade the -windows. - -Their leader paused while his men passed in, and seeing Betty, came -quickly toward her. - -“What do you here, child?” he said hurriedly. “Go quickly, before the -British reach us, and tell your father, that, Quaker or no Quaker, -he shall ride to Washington, on the Brandywine, and tell him that we, -but one hundred men, are besieged by three hundred British cavalry in -Chichester meeting-house, with but little powder left. Tell him to make -all haste to us.” - -Turning, he hastened into the meeting-house, now converted into a fort, -and as the doors closed behind him Betty saw a black muzzle protruding -from every window. - -With trembling fingers the little maid picked up her sampler, and as -the thud of horses’ hoofs grew louder and louder, she ran fearfully -into the house, locked and bolted the massive door, and then flying up -the broad stairs, she seated herself in a little window overlooking the -meeting-house yard. She had gone into the house none too soon. Up the -road, with their red coats gleaming and their harness jangling, was -sweeping a detachment of British cavalry, never stopping until they -reached the meeting-house--and then it was too late. - -A sheet of flame shot out from the wall before them, and half a dozen -troopers fell lifeless to the ground, and half a dozen riderless horses -galloped wildly down the road. The leader shouted a sharp command, and -the whole troop retreated in confusion. - -Betty drew back shuddering, and when she brought herself to look again -the troopers had dismounted, had surrounded the meeting-house, and were -pouring volley after volley at its doors and windows. Then for the -first time Betty thought of the officer’s message, and remembered that -the safety of the Americans depended upon her alone, for her father was -away, no neighbor within reach, and without powder she knew they could -not resist long. - -Could she save them? All her stern Quaker blood rose at the thought, -and stealing softly to the paddock behind the barn, she saddled Daisy -and led her through the bars into the wood road, which opened into the -highway just around the bend. Could she but pass the pickets without -discovery there would be little danger of pursuit; then there would be -only the long ride of eight miles ahead of her. - -Just before the narrow wood road joined the broader highway Betty -mounted Daisy by means of a convenient stump, and starting off at a -gallop, had just turned the corner when a voice shouted “Halt” and a -shot whistled past her head. Betty screamed with terror, and bending -over, brought down her riding whip with all her strength upon Daisy, -then, turning for a moment, saw three troopers hurriedly mounting. - -Her heart sank within her, but, beginning to feel the excitement of the -chase, she leaned over and patting Daisy on the neck, encouraged her to -do her best. Onward they sped. Betty, her curly hair streaming in the -wind, the color now mounting to, now retreating from, her cheeks, led -by five hundred yards. - -But Daisy had not been used for weeks, and already felt the unusual -strain. Now they thundered over Naaman’s Creek, now over Concord, with -the nearest pursuer only four hundred yards behind; and now they raced -beside the clear waters of Beaver Brook, and as Betty dashed through -its shallow ford, the thud of horses’ hoofs seemed just over her -shoulder. - -Betty, at first sure of success, now knew that unless in some way she -could throw her pursuers off her track she was surely lost. Just then -she saw ahead of her a fork in the road, the lower branch leading to -the Brandywine, the upper to the Birmingham Meeting-house. Could she -but get the troopers on the upper road while she took the lower, she -would be safe; and, as if in answer to her wish, there flashed across -her mind the remembrance of the old cross-road which, long disused, and -with its entrance hidden by drooping boughs, led from a point in the -upper road just out of sight of the fork down across the lower, and -through the valley of the Brandywine. Could she gain this road unseen -she still might reach Washington. - -Urging Daisy forward, she broke just in time through the dense growth -which hid the entrance, and sat trembling, hidden behind a dense growth -of tangled vines, while she heard the troopers thunder by. Then, riding -through the rustling woods, she came at last into the open, and saw -spread out beneath her the beautiful valley of the Brandywine dotted -with the white tents of the Continental army. - -Starting off at a gallop, she dashed around a bend in the road into the -midst of a group of officers riding slowly up from the valley. - -“Stop, little maiden, before you run us down,” said one, who seemed to -be in command. “Where are you going in such hot haste?” - -“Oh, sir,” said Betty, reining in Daisy, “can thee tell me where I can -find General Washington?” - -“Yes, little Quakeress,” said the officer, who had first spoken to her, -“I am he. What do you wish?” - -Betty, too exhausted to be surprised, poured forth her story in a few -broken sentences, and (hearing as if in a dream the hasty commands for -the rescue of the soldiers in Chichester Meeting-house) fell forward in -her saddle, and, for the first time in her life, fainted, worn out by -her noble ride. - -A few days later, when recovering from the shock of her long and -eventful ride, Betty, waking from a deep sleep, found her mother -kneeling beside her little bed, while her father talked with General -Washington himself beside the fireplace; and it was the proudest and -happiest moment of her life when Washington, coming forward and taking -her by the hand, said, “You are the bravest little maid in America, and -an honor to your country.” - -Still the peaceful meeting-house and the gambrel-roofed home stand -unchanged, save that their time-beaten timbers and crumbling bricks -have taken on a more sombre tinge, and under the broad walnut tree -another little Betty sits and sews. - -If you ask it, she will take down the great key from its nail, and -swinging back the new doors of the meeting-house, will show you -the old worm-eaten ones inside, which, pierced through and through -with bullet-holes, once served as a rampart against the enemy. -And she will tell you, in the quaint Friends’ language, how her -great-great-grandmother carried, more than a hundred years ago, the -news of the danger of her countrymen to Washington, on the Brandywine, -and at the risk of her own life, saved theirs. - - - - -THE FIRST BLOW FOR AMERICAN LIBERTY[E] - -(A STORY OF THE BUNKER HILL POWDER) - -By EMMA W. DEMERITT - - Two little New Hampshire boys play a part in the patriots’ capture - of a quantity of King George’s powder, and this very same powder was - afterward used to fight the redcoats at the Battle of Bunker Hill. - - -Tony sat on a bench in the corner of the great stone fireplace watching -the big logs as they sang and crackled and the flames leaped upward -filling the room with a cheerful glow. Now and then he turned his head -and glanced at a tall woman who was bustling about, getting supper -ready. - -“Aunt Mercy?” - -No answer. - -“Aunt Mercy,” he said, a little louder. - -But his aunt did not reply. She probably did not hear the boy so -occupied was she with her thoughts. Her usually pleasant face wore an -anxious look and several times Tony fancied from the movements of her -lips that she was speaking to herself. - -“Oh, dear!” he thought. “I wonder what it is that has made Aunt Mercy -so sober for the last day or two! She doesn’t answer me when I speak. -She hardly notices Larry and me, and it’s just the same with Uncle -Eben. They whisper together, and some of the neighbors have been here, -and they have all been shut up in a room together, and they all look -so solemn! I only hope that dreadful war isn’t going to come that they -talk about.” - -“Tony,” said his aunt, as she took two shining pewter platters from the -dresser and placed them on the table, “have you or Larry come across my -spectacles anywhere?” - -“No, ma’am.” - -“Well, perhaps I left them at meeting last Sunday. Never mind. I want -you to go up garret and bring me that big bunch of herbs hanging by the -east window.” - -Tony glanced toward the kitchen window and was relieved to find it -was still quite light. He was always shy of the old, open garret even -in the daytime. He never liked to play there as well as his brother -Larry and the other boys. The long rows of cloaks and coats and gowns -swinging from their pegs in the dimly lighted space under the rafters -had a look that made him feel as if they might spring out at him as he -passed. - -And there were certain other things there which helped to increase -Tony’s dread of the garret. There were an old chest in the corner -containing the uniform of Tony’s great uncle who had served as captain -in the early French and Indian wars, and a rusty sword and tomahawk -hanging from a nail in the huge beam overhead. The sword had two or -three suggestive notches in the long blade, and on the wooden handle of -the tomahawk which had once belonged to a ferocious Indian chief were -several suspicious-looking brown stains. Larry liked to handle these -relics, but the mere sight of them always sent shivers creeping down -Tony’s back. - -“Make haste, Tony, and bring the herbs before it grows any darker,” -continued his aunt. “I never like to go up garret with a light; it’s -dangerous business. I am worried and nervous, and I want a bowl of hot -herb tea.” - -Tony stopped, his thumb on the latch. “What is it that worries you so?” -he asked in his sweet, sympathetic voice. - -“A thousand things, child, you wouldn’t understand if I told you--the -dread of what’s coming--the loss of property and friends--life itself -perhaps. But we’ll hope for the best. The king may yet repent and try -to do what is right by us. But we don’t know--we don’t know.” - -It was the December of 1774, five months before Lexington, the first -battle of the American Revolution. Throughout the colonies there was -a growing feeling of uneasiness and indignation. The colonists were -too much attached to the mother country to wish for war. Morning and -night they prayed that God would show them some peaceful way out of -the trouble. But the king had taken away so many of their rights and -laid taxes so heavy and unjust upon them that it began to look as if -the only thing to do was to fight him. The people of New Hampshire, -where Larry and Tony lived, were especially excited and alarmed, for -they were so near Boston that they sympathized heartily with that -much-wronged city which seemed to have been singled out as a mark for -special spite. - -Tony passed through the cold hall and upstairs, and opening the garret -door stumbled hastily to the top step. As he reached the landing his -heart gave a sudden thump. He fancied he heard a noise. He stood -listening, but there was not a sound. “I guess it was the branches -of the big elm scraping against the roof,” he thought. Mustering his -courage he darted by the row of clothes and was just reaching up for -the herbs when a figure suddenly stepped from behind the chimney. - -“Oh!” gasped the frightened boy, stumbling back over the big chest and -bumping his head with a clatter against the dreaded sword and tomahawk. -Larry’s arm raised him to his feet and Larry’s bright face bent over -him. - -“Why, Tony! how little it takes to scare you! I was up here and heard -some one coming and thought it one of the men and that I’d have some -fun with him. See!” and Larry took down the rusty tomahawk and gave a -whoop that made the rafters ring, and flourished the old relic in a -way that caused Tony’s curly hair to stand on end. “This isn’t such a -terrible thing, after all--it can’t hurt you.” - -He got the herbs for his young brother and as he did so, happened to -look out of the window. “Whew!” he whistled softly, “there are two men -going into the meeting-house. And how queerly they act, looking all -around as if they were afraid some one would see them.” - -“Oh, Larry! can’t you run up and see if Aunt Mercy’s spectacles are in -the pew? She thinks she left them there last Sunday.” - -“All right! you take the herbs downstairs and I will.” - -On his return to the kitchen Tony found that his aunt had left the -room, and he sat down in the chimney corner to wait for supper. In -a few moments the door opened, and Larry stood before him, his eyes -flashing, his cheeks flushed. - -“Did you get the spectacles, Larry?” - -“Spectacles! I haven’t even thought of them. Listen, Tony! I have -a secret--a _great_ secret. After I left you I hurried up to the -meeting-house and as I stepped inside the entry I thought I heard a -queer noise, as if some one were digging. So I opened the door softly -and peeped in--and there--_as sure as you are alive, I saw two men -digging a great, deep hole under the pulpit_. They were talking so low -I couldn’t hear more than half they said. But I made out that uncle and -Captain Sullivan and some others are going to meet there to-night and -go off in boats on some wonderful expedition. And, Tony, I am going -to find out what it is. We’ll go to our room as usual after supper, -but instead of going to bed, we’ll creep downstairs and go up to the -meeting-house and hide inside, and wait there.” - -“But will it be right to listen, Larry?” asked Tony gravely. “You know -Aunt Mercy says ‘Eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves.’” - -“But this isn’t eavesdropping, Tony. Listening is a mean trick. But -this is different. Uncle is going into danger of some sort and I -_ought_ to learn what it is. I can’t believe _that_ is wrong.” - -Tony finally consented, thinking he would rather watch with Larry in -the church than stay in his room at home alone in the dark. - -When Aunt Mercy returned, she filled the big iron pot with water, hung -it on the crane and swung it over the blazing logs. “We are going to -have pudding and milk for supper,” she said, “and we won’t wait for -your uncle; he’s away, and may not be back until late into the night.” - -At these words Larry glanced significantly at Tony and gave a wise -little nod. - - * * * * * - -With the going down of the sun the cold rapidly increased. The night -was clear and frosty. In front of the little wooden meeting-house on -Durham Hill stood the two brothers shivering with cold and excitement. -“Whew!” exclaimed Larry, pulling his cap down over his ears, “it’s a -sharp night, Tony. Come farther this way; the meeting-house will keep -off the wind.” - -“Shall we have to wait long, Larry?” asked Tony. - -Larry glanced at the moon just rising above the treetops. “I think it’s -past the time now. Oh, I wonder what it is they are going to do.” - -“P’raps they are going to cross the ocean and take the king prisoner. I -don’t think he treats us very well nowadays,” said Tony plaintively. - -Larry laughed. “I guess they won’t go quite as far as that. Oh, Tony! -if I were a man, they would take me. It’s so provoking to be only a -boy. I’m just big enough to want to be of some use, but not old enough -to be trusted.” He drew Tony back in the shelter of the church and -waited with his eyes fixed on the flowing Piscataqua which swept around -the base of the hill on which they stood, and at the next turn widened -into the broad expanse known as “The Great Bay.” - -It was upon the banks of this river that some of the bloodiest scenes -of the early Indian wars had been enacted. Again and again had its -shores resounded with warwhoops as the red men under cover of night -rowed their canoes up to the infant settlements of New Hampshire and -spared neither man, woman, nor child in the slaughter which followed. -Across the river, in full view of the meeting-house, was a log fort -known as the “Old Block House” which had served on many occasions as -a refuge for the early settlers and enabled them to keep their savage -foes at bay. - -“It’s cold--and--lonesome out here,” said Tony with a shiver, glancing -involuntarily at the “Block House.” - -“You don’t mean to say you’re afraid of the Block House, Tony! Why, you -are always glad of a chance to play there, afternoons.” - -“Yes--but that was in the daytime. Out here in the dark I don’t like to -think of the people who have been killed there.” - -“Tony! If we come to blows with England you won’t make a very good -soldier. Now I’d like no better fun than to be in the Block House with -a lot of screeching Indians outside. But we mustn’t talk so loud--and -remember--if we hear the least noise we are to scamper into the -meeting-house and hide.” - -The moon climbed higher and higher in the heavens, and soon there came -to the ears of the watchers by the church the plash of oars. Larry bent -forward, and his keen eyes detected a small black speck on the surface -of the river. At the same time the sound of rapid footsteps was heard, -and the two boys hastily entered the church and stumbling through the -dark entry felt their way along the aisle and crouched down in one of -the pews. - -Meantime, a man closely wrapped in a military cloak had taken their -place in front of the church and stood looking out on the water. He, -too, saw the dark object. Raising his fingers to his lips he gave a -shrill whistle, which was promptly answered from the river, and in a -short time eleven men, armed with muskets, came creeping stealthily up -the hill, single file. - -“We are late, Captain Sullivan,” called out a gay voice, “but His -Majesty has several devoted subjects hereabouts, and we did not dare -venture within range of their prying eyes until after dark.” - -“Peace, Scammel, or that merry voice of yours will be starting some -of these same good folks from their firesides,” returned Sullivan. -“My trusty men!” there was a triumphant ring in his voice as he -greeted them each by name--“Captain Winborn Adams, Eleazer Bennett, -Ebenezer Thompson, John Demeritt, Alpheus Chesley, Jonathan Chesley, -John Spenser, Micah Davis, Isaac Small, Benjamin Small, Alexander -Scammel--thank God! not one of you is missing. And now, is everything -ready yonder?” He pointed to the church. - -“See for yourself, Captain,” answered one of the men; and opening the -door he paused to light a lantern which stood in the little entry. -The eleven men followed him, their heavy boots clattering on the bare -floor--down the aisle, to the pulpit. Here he stopped, and held the -lantern high above his head. By the dim light they saw the deep pit, -the loosened boards, and the pile of earth standing ready for filling -in again. - -“’Tis well planned,” said the Captain, nodding approvingly. “It is the -last place the British will think of searching for their lost powder. -When Paul Revere came riding in hot haste into Portsmouth town last -night, bearing despatches from the Massachusetts Committee of Safety -saying the king had ordered the seizure of all the powder and arms -in the provinces, and that two of Gage’s regiments were on their way -to garrison Portsmouth and Fort William and Mary here in Piscataqua -harbor, I made up my mind that what was done must be done quickly. For -if England forces us to fight--and it looks that way now--’twere well -to have something to fight with.” - -“In good sooth, Captain Sullivan,” returned Scammel, “we should have to -fight with the butt-end of our muskets, for powder and bullets are as -scarce as roses at Christmas.” - -Sullivan continued: “I made up my mind that if I could get a few -trusty men to join me I would make a dash for the fort on my own -responsibility, for the possession of that powder means _everything_ -to us. But I do not want one of you to stir a foot unless you have -counted the cost. This is a deliberate assault on a royal fortress, and -it exposes every one of us to the penalty for high treason. If any man -shrinks, let him turn back now before it is too late.” - -“We have counted the cost,” answered John Demeritt, “and we are ready.” - -“Follow me, then,” cried Sullivan, “and may God speed the right!” - -At that instant Tony, who was doubled up under the seat like a -jackknife, had a cramp in his leg, and in trying to move his foot hit a -wooden stool--and over it went with a loud crash, causing the utmost -confusion. The men began searching the church while Larry’s uncle -rushed around shouting savagely: “A spy! A spy! Seize him! Take him, -dead or alive!” - -“It’s only us--Larry and me,” piped Tony, frightened almost out of his -wits by his uncle’s fury. “We wanted to find out what was going on. And -won’t you please take Larry with you? He is so brave and wants to fight -so much.” - -“Go home, boys, and to bed, both of you!” ordered Larry’s uncle. “I’ll -settle with you for this to-morrow. Do not look so disturbed, Captain -Sullivan--I’ll answer for their secrecy.” - -“Oh, uncle! Oh, Captain Sullivan!” begged Larry in an eager, excited -tone, “do let me go. I know I can help in some way. I want to be of -some use, and I’m not afraid any more than you are.” - -Sullivan was touched by the boy’s earnestness. “We cannot take you, -my boy. It would not be prudent--but you can help if you really wish -it--there _is_ a way.” He turned and whispered with some of the men. -“We may need a pair of oxen to cart the powder. We ought not to bury it -all in one place.” - -“If the lad will have the oxen and some straw ready for us in yonder -barn, I’ll cart the powder wherever you say,” said John Demeritt. “I’ll -bury it in my own cellar if you can think of no better place.” - -Sullivan noted the disappointment in Larry’s answer. “We are trusting -much to you, my boy,” he said gravely; “and remember, Larry, if you -want to be a soldier you must first learn to _obey_. Now go take your -little brother home, and then have the team ready for us by the time -yonder bright star reaches that line of woods by the Block House.” - -When the boys left, the men quickened their pace almost to a run -in order to keep up with the Captain as he strode down-hill to the -“gondola.” - -“Gondola” was the name given by the colonists to the broad, -flat-bottomed scows used on the Piscataqua in the transportation of -stone and other heavy material. - -The members of the little party quietly took the places assigned them, -and the scow swung off into the middle of the river and moved slowly -down-stream. The only sounds to be heard were the moaning of the wind -through the bare forests and the measured dip of oars. The trip was -made for the most part in silence, the men bending eagerly over the -oars too much engrossed with their thoughts to indulge in idle chat. As -the scow approached Portsmouth and the lights of the town glimmered in -the distance, Sullivan ordered the men to row slowly. - -“If discovered now,” said he, “all is lost.” - -In a few moments they rounded a little headland and found awaiting them -in the cove beyond two gondolas and a small boat containing in all some -eighteen men. These were under the leadership of Captain Pickering. - -“Let us be off!” exclaimed Sullivan impatiently. “We must cross -Portsmouth harbor before the moon shows her face again.” - -They pulled out into the middle of the stream in the momentary -darkness, and by the time the clouds had drifted away from the moon the -little fleet was within a rod of the island on which stood Fort William -and Mary. All was dark and still within, and the only sound outside -was the wash of the waves on the narrow beach. After a whispered -consultation the men disembarked at a signal from Sullivan. Wading -through the icy water they arranged themselves in line at the rear of -the fort, while Pickering with three others crept cautiously in the -shadow of the wall and disappeared behind one of the bastions. In a -moment more a sentinel’s challenge rang out sharp and clear: “Who goes -there? Stand, and give the countersign!” - -Pickering seized the soldier’s gun and grasped him by the throat. “Not -a word more or you are a dead man,” he whispered. - -The men then made their way to the commandant’s room. He looked up as -Sullivan and Pickering entered, but his smile of recognition changed to -a blank stare as the former said with much agitation: “Captain Cochran, -you are our prisoner. Your little garrison has surrendered. You had -better follow its example!” - -Cochran glanced at the resolute faces of his captors, then tendered his -sword. He was left in charge of two of the men while the rest of the -party proceeded to break open the magazine. In the course of an hour -and a half the powder was safe in the gondolas and the little band -left the fort and began the hard task of rowing up-stream. Absolute -silence was maintained, and when they finally landed at the foot of -meeting-house hill and found Larry with the oxen awaiting them, they -took off their heavy, nailed shoes lest a spark from them should set -fire to the powder. - -By dawn Larry was back in his room telling the wonderful story to Tony. -One half of the king’s powder was buried deep beneath the pulpit of the -meeting-house, and John Demeritt, with the other half snugly hidden -under a load of straw, was on the road to Madbury driving along his -oxen as unconcernedly as if nothing had happened. - -The next day Governor Wentworth issued a proclamation, declaring all -those who took part in the capture of Fort William and Mary guilty of -high treason. Four months later the news from Lexington and Concord -spread from the White Hills of New Hampshire to the pine forests of the -Carolinas arousing the people to a renewed determination to defend with -their lives--their rights and liberties. - -Major Sullivan, accompanied by his faithful little band, started at -once for the scene of action. Indeed the New Hampshire troops were -among the earliest at the front, for Bancroft tells us “the ferries on -the Merrimack were crowded with the men of New Hampshire,” and that -“they finally paraded on Cambridge Common having _run_ rather than -walked the entire distance.” - -Captain John Demeritt, after reserving a portion of the powder for the -use of his own company, brought out the remainder from his cellar and -once more concealing it beneath a load of straw carted it with his ox -team all the way to the headquarters of the American Army at Cambridge. -He arrived in time to have it sent out to the troops at Bunker -Hill, and a local historian tells us that it was stated on the best -authority, that had not the powder arrived at so opportune a moment the -fate of the day would have been far different. It was with this powder -that the New Hampshire troops with two regiments from Connecticut -guarded the flank at Bunker Hill, twice driving back the British. And -it was with the same powder that they held the enemy at bay until -Prescott’s little band had left the redoubt and then they retreated in -good order through a galling fire. - - - - -THE BATTLE OF BUNKER’S HILL[F] - -By WASHINGTON IRVING - - “Don’t fire till you see the whites of their eyes” were the orders of - “Old Put” to the Yankee farmers who first taught the enemy that they - could and would stand and fight British regulars. - - -The sound of drum and trumpet, the clatter of hoofs, the rattling of -gun-carriages, and all the other military din and bustle in the streets -of Boston, soon apprised the Americans on their rudely fortified -height of an impending attack. They were ill-fitted to withstand -it, being jaded by the night’s labor and want of sleep; hungry and -thirsty, having brought but scanty supplies, and oppressed by the -heat of the weather. Prescott sent repeated messages to General Ward, -asking reinforcements and provisions. Putnam seconded the request in -person, urging the exigencies of the case. Ward hesitated. He feared -to weaken his main body at Cambridge, as his military stores were -deposited there, and it might have to sustain the principal attack. At -length, having taken advice of the council of safety, he issued orders -for Colonels Stark and Read, then at Medford, to march to the relief -of Prescott with their New Hampshire regiments. The orders reached -Medford about eleven o’clock. Ammunition was distributed in all haste; -two flints, a gill of powder, and fifteen balls to each man. The balls -had to be suited to the different calibres of the guns; the powder to -be carried in powder-horns, or loose in the pocket, for there were -no cartridges prepared. It was the rude turn-out of yeoman soldiery -destitute of regular accoutrements. - -In the meanwhile, the Americans on Breed’s Hill were sustaining the -fire from the ships, and from the battery on Copp’s Hill, which opened -upon them about ten o’clock. They returned an occasional shot from one -corner of the redoubt, without much harm to the enemy, and continued -strengthening their position until about eleven o’clock, when they -ceased to work, piled their intrenching tools in the rear, and looked -out anxiously and impatiently for the anticipated reinforcements and -supplies. - -About this time General Putnam, who had been to headquarters, arrived -at the redoubt on horseback. Some words passed between him and Prescott -with regard to the intrenching tools, which have been variously -reported. The most probable version is, that he urged to have them -taken from their present place, where they might fall into the hands of -the enemy, and carried to Bunker’s Hill, to be employed in throwing up -a redoubt, which was part of the original plan, and which would be very -important should the troops be obliged to retreat from Breed’s Hill. -To this Prescott demurred that those employed to convey them, and -who were already jaded with toil, might not return to his redoubt. A -large part of the tools were ultimately carried to Bunker’s Hill, and a -breastwork commenced by order of General Putnam. The importance of such -a work was afterward made apparent. - -About noon the Americans descried twenty-eight barges crossing from -Boston in parallel lines. They contained a large detachment of -grenadiers, rangers, and light infantry, admirably equipped, and -commanded by Major-general Howe. They made a splendid and formidable -appearance with their scarlet uniforms, and the sun flashing upon -muskets and bayonets, and brass fieldpieces. A heavy fire from the -ships and batteries covered their advance, but no attempt was made to -oppose them, and they landed about one o’clock at Moulton’s Point, a -little to the north of Breed’s Hill. - -Here General Howe made a pause. On reconnoitering the works from -this point, the Americans appeared to be much more strongly posted -than he had imagined. He descried troops also hastening to their -assistance. These were the New Hampshire troops, led on by Stark. -Howe immediately sent over to General Gage for more forces, and a -supply of cannon-balls; those brought by him being found, through -some egregious oversight, too large for the ordnance. While awaiting -their arrival, refreshments were served out to the troops, with “grog” -by the bucketful; and tantalizing it was, to the hungry and thirsty -provincials, to look down from their ramparts of earth, and see their -invaders seated in groups upon the grass eating and drinking, and -preparing themselves by a hearty meal for the coming encounter. Their -only consolation was to take advantage of the delay, while the enemy -were carousing, to strengthen their position. The breastwork on the -left of the redoubt extended to what was called the Slough, but beyond -this, the ridge of the hill, and the slope toward Mystic River, were -undefended, leaving a pass by which the enemy might turn the left flank -of the position and seize upon Bunker’s Hill. Putnam ordered his chosen -officer, Captain Knowlton, to cover this pass with the Connecticut -troops under his command. A novel kind of rampart, savoring of rural -device, was suggested by the rustic general. About six hundred feet in -the rear of the redoubt, and about one hundred feet to the left of the -breastwork, was a post-and-rail fence, set in a low footwall of stone, -and extending down to Mystic River. The posts and rails of another -fence were hastily pulled up and set a few feet in behind this, and the -intermediate space was filled up with new-mown hay from the adjacent -meadows. This double fence, it will be found, proved an important -protection to the redoubt, although there still remained an unprotected -interval of about seven hundred feet. - -While Knowlton and his men were putting up this fence, Putnam proceeded -with other of his troops to throw up the work on Bunker’s Hill, -despatching his son, Captain Putnam, on horseback, to hurry up the -remainder of his men from Cambridge. By this time his compeer in French -and Indian warfare, the veteran Stark, made his appearance with the -New Hampshire troops, five hundred strong. He had grown cool and wary -with age, and his march from Medford, a distance of five or six miles, -had been in character. He led his men at a moderate pace, to bring -them into action fresh and vigorous. In crossing the Neck, which was -enfiladed by the enemy’s ships and batteries, Captain Dearborn, who was -by his side, suggested a quick step. The veteran shook his head: “One -fresh man in action is worth ten tired ones,” replied he, and marched -steadily on. - -Putnam detained some of Stark’s men to aid in throwing up the work on -Bunker’s Hill, and directed him to reinforce Knowlton with the rest. -Stark made a short speech to his men, now that they were likely to have -warm work. He then pushed on, and did good service that day at the -rustic bulwark. - -About two o’clock Warren arrived on the heights, ready to engage in -their perilous defence, although he had opposed the scheme of their -occupation. He had recently been elected a major-general, but had not -received his commission; like Pomeroy, he came to serve in the ranks -with a musket on his shoulder. Putnam offered him the command at the -fence; he declined it, and merely asked where he could be of most -service as a volunteer. Putnam pointed to the redoubt, observing that -there he would be under cover. “Don’t think I seek a place of safety,” -replied Warren quickly; “where will the attack be the hottest?” Putnam -still pointed to the redoubt. “That is the enemy’s object; if that can -be maintained, the day is ours.” - -Warren was cheered by the troops as he entered the redoubt. Colonel -Prescott tendered him the command. He again declined. “I have come to -serve only as a volunteer, and shall be happy to learn from a soldier -of your experience.” Such were the noble spirits assembled on these -perilous heights. - -The British now prepared for a general assault. An easy victory was -anticipated; the main thought was, how to make it most effectual. -The left wing, commanded by General Pigot, was to mount the hill and -force the redoubt; while General Howe, with the right wing, was to -push on between the fort and Mystic River, turn the left flank of the -Americans, and cut off their retreat. - -General Pigot, accordingly, advanced up the hill under cover of a fire -from fieldpieces and howitzers planted on a small height near the -landing-place on Moulton’s Point. His troops commenced a discharge of -musketry while yet at a long distance from the redoubts. The Americans -within the works, obedient to strict command, retained their fire -until the enemy were within thirty or forty paces, when they opened -upon them with a tremendous volley. Being all marksmen, accustomed to -take deliberate aim, the slaughter was immense, and especially fatal -to officers. The assailants fell back in some confusion; but rallied -on by their officers, advanced within pistol shot. Another volley, -more effective than the first, made them again recoil. To add to their -confusion, they were galled by a flanking fire from the handful of -provincials posted in Charlestown. Shocked at the carnage, and seeing -the confusion of his troops, General Pigot was urged to give the word -for a retreat. - -In the meantime, General Howe, with the right wing, advanced along -Mystic River toward the fence where Stark, Read, and Knowlton were -stationed, thinking to carry this slight breastwork with ease, and so -get in the rear of the fortress. His artillery proved of little avail, -being stopped by a swampy piece of ground, while his columns suffered -from two or three fieldpieces with which Putnam had fortified the -fence. Howe’s men kept up a fire of musketry as they advanced; but, -not taking aim, their shots passed over the heads of the Americans. -The latter had received the same orders with those in the redoubt, -not to fire until the enemy should be within thirty paces. Some few -transgressed the command. Putnam rode up and swore he would cut down -the next man that fired contrary to orders. When the British arrived -within the stated distance a sheeted fire opened upon them from rifles, -muskets, and fowling-pieces, all leveled with deadly aim. The carnage, -as in the other instance, was horrible. The British were thrown into -confusion and fell back; some even retreated to the boats. - -There was a general pause on the part of the British. The American -officers availed themselves of it to prepare for another attack, which -must soon be made. Prescott mingled among his men in the redoubt, -who were all in high spirits at the severe check they had given “the -regulars.” He praised them for their steadfastness in maintaining their -post, and their good conduct in reserving their fire until the word of -command, and exhorted them to do the same in the next attack. - -Putnam rode about Bunker’s Hill and its skirts, to rally and bring -on reinforcements which had been checked or scattered in crossing -Charlestown Neck by the raking fire from the ships and batteries. -Before many could be brought to the scene of action the British had -commenced their second attack. They again ascended the hill to storm -the redoubt; their advance was covered as before by discharges of -artillery. Charlestown, which had annoyed them on their first attack -by a flanking fire, was in flames, by shells thrown from Copp’s Hill, -and by marines from the ships. Being built of wood, the place was soon -wrapped in a general conflagration. The thunder of artillery from -batteries and ships; the bursting of bomb-shells; the sharp discharges -of musketry; the shouts and yells of the combatants; the crash of -burning buildings, and the dense volumes of smoke, which obscured -the summer sun, all formed a tremendous spectacle. “Sure I am,” said -Burgoyne in one of his letters--“Sure I am nothing ever has or ever -can be more dreadfully terrible than what was to be seen or heard at -this time. The most incessant discharge of guns that ever was heard by -mortal ears.” - -The American troops, although unused to war, stood undismayed amidst a -scene where it was bursting upon them with all its horrors. Reserving -their fire, as before, until the enemy was close at hand, they again -poured forth repeated volleys with the fatal aim of sharpshooters. -The British stood the first shock, and continued to advance; but the -incessant stream of fire staggered them. Their officers remonstrated, -threatened, and even attempted to goad them on with their swords, but -the havoc was too deadly; whole ranks were mowed down; many of the -officers were either slain or wounded, and among them several of the -staff of General Howe. The troops again gave way and retreated down the -hill. - -All this passed under the eye of thousands of spectators of both sexes -and all ages, watching from afar every turn of a battle in which the -lives of those most dear to them were at hazard. The British soldiery -in Boston gazed with astonishment and almost incredulity at the -resolute and protracted stand of raw militia whom they had been taught -to despise, and at the havoc made among their own veteran troops. -Every convoy of wounded brought over to the town increased their -consternation; and General Clinton, who had watched the action from -Copp’s Hill, embarking in a boat, hurried over as a volunteer, taking -with him reinforcements. - -A third attack was now determined on, though some of Howe’s officers -remonstrated, declaring it would be downright butchery. A different -plan was adopted. Instead of advancing in front of the redoubt, it was -to be taken in flank on the left, where the open space between the -breastwork and the fortified fence presented a weak point. It having -been accidentally discovered that the ammunition of the Americans was -nearly expended, preparations were made to carry the works at the point -of the bayonet; and the soldiery threw off their knapsacks, and some -even their coats, to be more light for action. - -General Howe, with the main body, now made a feint of attacking the -fortified fence; but, while a part of his force was thus engaged, the -rest brought some of the fieldpieces to enfilade the breastwork on the -left of the redoubt. A raking fire soon drove the Americans out of this -exposed place into the enclosure. Much damage, too, was done in the -latter by balls which entered the sally-port. - -The troops were now led on to assail the works; those who flinched -were, as before, goaded on by the swords of the officers. The Americans -again reserved their fire until their assailants were close at hand, -and then made a murderous volley, by which several officers were laid -low, and General Howe himself was wounded in the foot. The British -soldiery this time likewise reserved their fire and rushed on with -fixed bayonet. Clinton and Pigot had reached the southern and eastern -sides of the redoubt, and it was now assailed on three sides at once. -Prescott ordered those who had no bayonets to retire to the back part -of the redoubt and fire on the enemy as they showed themselves above -the parapet. The first who mounted exclaimed in triumph, “The day is -ours!” He was instantly shot down, and so were several others who -mounted at the same time. The Americans, however, had fired their last -round, their ammunition was exhausted; and now succeeded a desperate -and deadly struggle, hand to hand, with bayonets, stones, and the -stocks of their muskets. At length, as the British continued to pour -in, Prescott gave the order to retreat. His men had to cut their way -through two divisions of the enemy who were getting in rear of the -redoubt, and they received a destructive volley from those who had -formed on the captured works. By that volley fell the patriot Warren, -who had distinguished himself throughout the action. He was among the -last to leave the redoubt, and had scarce done so when he was shot -through the head with a musket-ball, and fell dead on the spot. - -While the Americans were thus slowly dislodged from the redoubt, Stark, -Read, and Knowlton maintained their ground at the fortified fence; -which, indeed, had been nobly defended throughout the action. Pomeroy -distinguished himself here by his sharp-shooting until his musket was -shattered by a ball. The resistance at this hastily constructed work -was kept up after the troops in the redoubt had given way, and until -Colonel Prescott had left the hill; thus defeating General Howe’s -design of cutting off the retreat of the main body, which would have -produced a scene of direful confusion and slaughter. Having effected -their purpose, the brave associates at the fence abandoned their weak -outpost, retiring slowly, and disputing the ground inch by inch, with a -regularity remarkable in troops many of whom had never before been in -action. - -The main retreat was across Bunker’s Hill, where Putnam had endeavored -to throw up a breastwork. The veteran, sword in hand, rode to the rear -of the retreating troops, regardless of the balls whistling about him. -His only thought was to rally them at the unfinished works. “Halt! make -a stand here!” cried he, “we can check them yet. In God’s name form and -give them one shot more.” - -Pomeroy, wielding his shattered musket as a truncheon, seconded him in -his efforts to stay the torrent. It was impossible, however, to bring -the troops to a stand. They continued on down the hill to the Neck, -and across it to Cambridge, exposed to a raking fire from the ships -and batteries, and only protected by a single piece of ordnance. The -British were too exhausted to pursue them; they contented themselves -with taking possession of Bunker’s Hill, were reinforced from Boston, -and threw up additional works during the night. - - - - -HER PUNISHMENT[G] - -By ELIZABETH GIBSON - - How a certain little girl prepared for General Washington the “best - breakfast he had had in a month.” - - -Long, long ago, when my mother was a little girl, there lived in her -neighborhood an old lady whom all the children called “Aunt Prissy.” - -She was a quaint, funny little old lady, with her bobbing white curls, -and always wore a small black lace cap, a black silk gown, a soft white -kerchief, and fringed silk apron. - -The children loved to pay a visit to Aunt Prissy. After they were all -carefully seated, each child with a small seed-cake, the eager little -faces would turn toward her, and one of the children would say, “Now, -Aunt Prissy, we won’t drop crumbs on the floor, and we are sitting up -straight, and we haven’t got our knees crossed, so won’t you please -tell us about the time you saw General Washington with your own eyes?” - -Aunt Prissy would count the stitches in her knitting, look up over her -“specs,” and begin, “Well, well, children, it does seem to me you ought -to know _that_ story by heart. But never mind; I s’pose you know which -you like best. - -“Now let me see. It must have been in ’81, and I was nine years old, -that our folks went to Salisbury to see General Washington. - -“I had been in disgrace for a whole day, and for punishment it was -decided that I must stay at home. - -“My poor little heart almost broke, and I cried and made myself -altogether disagreeable while the great lunch-baskets were being -strapped behind the carriage, the huge bunches of roses to hurl at -the general wrapped in wet cotton, and the family bundled into the -carriages. - -“After they had gone I wandered disconsolately about house and garden. -As I was swinging on the gate and wondering what I would do next, I -heard a great clatter of horses’ feet up the road, and in a few minutes -a party of men in uniform came in sight. I had seen enough soldiers to -know that these were Continental officers, so I was not frightened, but -waited until they came up. - -“A tall man on a white horse, with a cocked hat and plain uniform, rode -forward, and with the kindest smile in the world, asked, ‘My little -girl, can you give us a cup of coffee?’ - -“Now I was very proud of being able to make coffee and batter-cakes, so -I said I would try. The gentlemen rode into the yard, their servants -came forward to take the horses, and I showed the party into the -house. Mammy Dilsie had gone to the quarters on an errand, so I had -things my own way. - -“A fire was blazing in the huge kitchen fireplace. We didn’t have -cooking-stoves in those days, but did our baking in great round iron -ovens, with lids to heap coals on, and our boiling in pots swung -over the coals on cranes. I raked out a nice bed of coals, filled -the big coffee-pot, and soon had it simmering, then put the pan for -the batter-cakes on to heat, made them up, had them nicely browned -in a trice, set out a cold ham, and then invited the gentlemen in to -breakfast. - -“They came, laughing and talking, said the coffee was the best they -had ever tasted, the cakes delicious. I poured the coffee, and the -gentlemen laughed and joked me, and one of them asked how I happened to -be at home all alone. - -“My eyes filled with tears and I could hardly speak, but managed -to tell him that everybody had gone to Salisbury to see General -Washington; and that I wanted to see him worst of all because in the -picture of him in my red book one of his eyes was blue and the other -brown, and I wanted to see if it was really true. The officers all -laughed at this, but the leader raised his hand, and they did not say -anything. - -“‘But why did you not go, little maid?’ he asked. - -“Then I hung my head, but at last blurted out, ‘Because I tried to bury -John’s ten little biddies in the sand.’ - -“The men roared again at this; but the tall one said, ‘Did you not -know that it was very wrong to hurt the little chicks?’ - -“I began to cry then, but the kind officer took me on his knee and -kissed me. - -“‘And now, my little maid,’ he said, ‘you may tell your mother that you -did see General Washington and gave him the best breakfast he has had -in a month. And you see, his eyes are neither brown nor blue, but gray.’ - -“And I looked into his kind face and saw that the red book was not even -half right. Then Mammy Dilsie came in and courtesied to the floor when -I told her who it was. - -“The gentlemen patted me on the head, General Washington kissed me -again, and they rode away.” - - - - -FAMOUS WORDS AT GREAT MOMENTS - -PATRICK HENRY - - -Ten years and more before the Declaration of Independence there was -great excitement in the Colonies over the new Stamp Act. Patrick Henry, -a young member of the General Assembly of Virginia, had the temerity to -offer a resolution which declared that in the General Assembly lay the -sole right and power to lay taxes upon the Colony. An excited debate -followed this resolution, in the course of which Patrick Henry arose -and addressed the assembly. His speech closed with the words which have -made him famous: _Cæsar had his Brutus, Charles the First his Cromwell, -and George the Third_--The hall rang with cries of _Treason! Treason!_ -The patriot orator paused for an impressive moment, and then continued -calmly;--_may profit by their example. If this be treason make the most -of it!_ - -(His resolution was carried.) - -A decade passed before the actual outbreak of the War in New England -inspired Patrick Henry to the oration which concluded thus: _It is -in vain, Sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry peace, -peace--but there is no peace. The war has actually begun! The next -gale that sweeps from the North will bring to our ears the clash of -resounding arms. Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we -here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is -life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of -chains or slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course -others may take; but as for me, give me liberty, or give me death!_ - - -BATTLE OF LEXINGTON - -Very early on the morning of April 19, 1775, Paul Revere, by his famous -ride, had warned the men of Lexington of the coming of the redcoats. -About half-past four the patriots’ drum beat to arms and the minute-men -came hurrying from all directions, to receive the instructions of their -stalwart Captain, John Parker. His orders were: _Stand your ground, -don’t fire unless fired upon, but if they mean to have a war, let it -begin here._ Then came Major Pitcairn’s insolent order, _Disperse, -ye rebels, disperse!_ Actually, the first trigger was pulled by a -hot-headed young American. His gun, however, failed to go off. A -British soldier then discharged his piece--and the War began. - - -BUNKER HILL - -Dr. Joseph Warren, who was slain at Bunker Hill, when urged by Elbridge -Gerry not to go into the fight, replied quietly, and we know sincerely: -_Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori_ (To die for one’s country is -both agreeable and fitting). He had that very day been appointed a -Major-General by Congress, but had not yet received his Commission. -When he presented himself before Colonel Prescott, the latter naturally -tendered him the command. But Warren replied with the modesty which so -often characterizes the bravest of men, _I come as a volunteer with my -musket to serve under you_. - -When the British General Gage heard of Warren’s death he is said to -have remarked, _It is well; that one man was equal to five hundred -ordinary soldiers_. It was probably General Israel Putnam--“Old -Put”--commanding at the rail fence at Bunker Hill, who gave the famous -order, _Don’t fire until you can see the whites of their eyes_. This -was because the patriots’ powder was so pitifully short. Colonel -Prescott’s injunction was, _Don’t waste a grain; make every shot tell_. - - * * * * * - -Washington was journeying to New England to take command of the army -when the Battle of Bunker Hill was fought. On hearing of it he inquired -anxiously, _Did they stand the fire of the regulars?_ _That they did_, -was the response, and _held their own fire in reserve until the enemy -was within eight rods_. _Then_, said Washington, _the liberties of the -country are safe_. - -The Bunker Hill Monument, it will be remembered, inspired one of Daniel -Webster’s greatest orations. This is its peroration: _When honored and -decrepit age shall lean against the base of this monument, and troops -of vigorous youths shall be gathered around it, and when the one shall -speak to the other of its objects, the purposes of its construction, -and the great and glorious events with which it was connected--then -shall come from every youthful breast the ejaculation--Thank God!--I -also--am an American!_ - - -NATHAN HALE - -After Washington’s retreat, following the battle of Long Island, he was -most anxious to discover the intentions of the British in New York. -Nathan Hale, a young Captain from Connecticut--he had formerly been a -schoolmaster--volunteered to try and secure this information. He was -detected, arrested, and summarily condemned by the British, however, -and as he stood under the fatal noose awaiting the ignominious death of -a spy, the brutal British officer, Cunningham, who was in charge of the -execution shouted at him, _Give us your dying speech, you young rebel._ -And Hale replied in a calm, clear voice, _I only regret that I have but -one life to lose for my country_. - - -WILLIAM PITT - -Young people sometimes forget that the patriots’ cause had many friends -among the wiser statesmen of England. William Pitt was brave enough to -say: _We are told that the Americans are obstinate, that they are in -almost open rebellion against us. I rejoice that America has resisted. -I rejoice that they are not so dead to all feelings of liberty as to be -willing to submit like slaves!_ - - -GEORGE WASHINGTON - -The winter at Valley Forge was a time of bitter discouragement for -Washington and his cause. Tradition has preserved a touching picture of -the great man in his lonely hour of trial. - -A Quaker farmer, Isaac Potts, one day returned home joyful and -confident in the ultimate success of the Americans: _George Washington -will succeed! George Washington will succeed!_ he told his wife. _What -makes thee think so, Isaac?_ was her reply. _I have heard him pray, -Hannah, alone out in the woods to-day. The Generals horse was tied -to a sapling in a thicket. He himself was on his knees, praying most -fervently. The Lord will surely hear his prayer. He will, Hannah; thee -may rest assured, he will._ - - * * * * * - -Washington’s soldiers were often exasperated by the pettiness and -tedious delays of Congress. On one occasion a group of them proposed -to improve matters by making their leader King. His downright reply to -the man who finally summoned sufficient courage to broach the matter -to him is too little known: _I am at a loss to conceive what part of -my conduct could have given encouragement to an address which seems to -me big with the greatest mischief that can befall any country.... Let -me conjure you, if you have any regard for your country, concern for -yourself or posterity, or respect for me, to banish these thoughts from -your mind, and never communicate, as from yourself or any one else, a -sentiment of the like nature!_ - - -ETHAN ALLEN - -When Ethan Allen, the Green Mountain Boy, broke into Fort Ticonderoga -at the head of a handful of followers and demanded its surrender, its -bewildered and still sleepy Commandant began to stutter out a very -natural inquiry as to the authority in whose name Allen acted. History -has recorded Allen’s grandiloquent reply: _In the name of the Great -Jehovah and the Continental Congress!_ (But certain old Vermonters will -have it that his actual words were, _Here, come out of that, you old -rascal and give us the fort, quick, or we’ll smoke you out like rats!_) - - -ANTHONY WAYNE - -Mad Anthony Wayne was wounded in the head by a musket-ball during -his famous assault on Stony Point. He fell to the ground with blood -streaming over his face, and for a moment supposed himself to be -mortally wounded. His order to his aids was eminently characteristic, -_Carry me into the fort and let me die at the head of the column_. - - -JOHN STARK - -It was before the Battle of Bennington, fought and won in defiance of -the orders of the too cautious Congress, that bold John Stark uttered -his famous invocation to his men: _There they are, boys_, he shouted, -waving his sword toward the enemy; _we’ll get ’em, or to-night Molly -Stark’ll be a widow_. - - -BENEDICT ARNOLD - -A pitiful story is told of the death in London, twenty years after the -War, of Benedict Arnold, the traitor. His last request was for the old -epaulettes and sword-knot given him by Washington. _Let me die_, said -he, _in the old American uniform, in which I fought my battles. God -forgive me for ever having put on any other!_ - - -GEORGE THE THIRD - -It is well to remember, in these days, that George Washington was in -reality an Englishman who fought a German king whom chance had seated -on the throne of England. And it is well to recall also that George the -Third, though obstinate and wrong-headed enough, gave in at last with -a better grace than might have been expected. To John Adams, our first -minister to England, he said: _Sir, I will be very free with you. I was -the last to consent to the separation, but the separation having been -made ... I have always said and I say now, that I would be the first to -meet the friendship of the United States as an independent power._ - - - - -THE LITTLE FIFER[H] - -By HELEN M. WINSLOW - - John Holden was lost. His mother’s faith that God would take care of - her boy was rewarded, however, when it was discovered that John with - his little fife was helping to drill the soldiers in Washington’s - army. - - -More than a hundred years ago there lived, in the town of Shirley, -Mass., a bright, well-grown lad named John Holden. His father was a -farmer, and the little fellow trudged about the farm, clad in home-spun -and home-made clothing, feeding calves, driving cows, and doing -whatever his hands found to do “with all his might.” - -One Saturday night John was early at the gate waiting for his father’s -homecoming; for Saturday was the day when John Holden went to the -village, and returned laden with packages and news from Boston--which -to them was the centre of the world. A present was an unheard-of thing -in little John’s life. What was his surprise, then, as his father rode -up to the gate, to see him hand out a long black case, saying: - -“Here, my boy, see what I’ve brought you for a birthday present.” - -And imagine his greater astonishment, on opening the case, to see a -beautiful fife of dark wood with silver trimmings! - -The boy could hardly believe his own eyes; and as he was passionately -fond of music he lost no time in beginning to learn the use of his -newly acquired instrument. He carried the fife with him everywhere and -practised on it in every spare moment, and before many months he was -able to greatly astonish the villagers and won many a compliment by his -skillful playing. - -Just before the Revolutionary War the whole country, as every boy and -girl ought to know, was in a state of ferment and dread. War seemed -inevitable, and the oppressive rule of the English was the theme of -conversation everywhere. - -Little John heard much of it, and longed to be a man that he might join -the “rebellious colonists.” And one day he received a compliment which -set him thinking of matters in a way the older members of his family -never mistrusted. - -A visitor from Boston was at the farmhouse, and the talk, as usual, -ran on the prospect of war in the colonies. During a pause in the -conversation, Mr. Holden asked John to play something on the fife. When -he had played a stirring march or two, the stranger exclaimed, “Upon my -word! But the boy has the soul of music in him! He will be ready for -the British bulls and lions when it is necessary.” - -John sat quite still for some time. But before he went to bed he went -to his father and said, “Father, if the British do come, shall I go to -war with my fife?” - -“To be sure,” answered his father laughingly. “They could not get along -without you.” - -Long after his father had forgotten this incident, John Holden took his -dog Zip, and his darling fife, and went to a favorite hill on the place -to practise. At night the dog came back alone and going straight up to -the boy’s chamber began to moan and cry, and would not leave John’s bed. - -The family were greatly alarmed, and instantly divined that something -had happened to John. - -Soon the whole town was in commotion; for the news that John Holden was -lost flew like wildfire. Bands of men were organized and went searching -the woods in every direction. - -Indians had been traveling through the town recently. Had they carried -off the boy or had they stolen the valuable fife and thrown the boy -into the river? The woods were hunted through and through; the river -was dragged; notices of the lost boy were sent in every direction; but -weeks lengthened into months and no clew was obtained that threw the -faintest glimmer of light on the strange disappearance. - -Everybody believed him to be dead, or with the cruel Indians. Everybody -but one. The boy’s mother never lost faith in his being safe somewhere. - -“My boy is in God’s hands,” she would say. “In his good time John will -come home.” - -And nothing could move her from this belief while two anxious years -slipped by. - -In the meantime war had broken out, and Shirley had sent her full quota -of men to fight for the country’s independence. It was through one -of these that a rumor reached Mr. Holden that a boy of twelve was in -General Washington’s army as fifer. - -Jonas Holden was impressed with the certainty that the boy in -Washington’s army and his lost son were the same. He went home and -told his wife the story, and she was certain of it. Accordingly Mr. -Holden started for New York, where General Washington and his army were -then stationed. There were no railroads or telegraphs then, remember; -nothing but horses and stagecoaches. Mr. Holden chose the former, and -the best he could do, by traveling on horseback, was to reach General -Washington’s headquarters in seven days. - -When he finally drew rein at the outposts of the Continental Army, he -made known his desire to see General Knox, who was with Washington at -that time. - -General Knox received the Massachusetts farmer with a cordiality that -put him at his ease in a moment; and Mr. Holden found no difficulty in -stating his errand. - -“There is your boy, sir!” exclaimed the interested General, pointing -to a young fellow in a soldier’s suit, gay with brass buttons, who -was playing on a fife. “He is drilling some raw recruits. That boy is -Captain-general of us all, sir. I have never known him to whimper or -say ‘I can’t,’ although he is the youngest of us.” - -The fifer was sent for in the Colonel’s name. As he drew near, and -lifting his cap, asked, “Did you send for me, sir?” his eye fell on his -father sitting in a corner of the tent. - -In a moment the boy was in his father’s arms and sobbing like a baby. -The father’s tears were mingled with the long-lost son’s and the -redoubtable General was obliged to resort to his handkerchief as he -withdrew, leaving father and son alone, with the remark: - -“I will see our Commander-in-chief.” - -“When did you come?” said John, when he could speak. “And how did you -find me?” - -“Old Captain brought me,” was the reply, “and he can take us both home.” - -“And how is mother?” pursued the boy. “Oh! I have been so sorry for -dear mother. I tell you, father, not a night have I camped down to -sleep but I have thought of mother; and every time I thought of her the -tears came. I thought perhaps she might die and I should never see her -again.” - -“Your mother is well,” was the father’s answer. “And she has never -for one moment lost faith in your being well and happy, and finally -restored to us.” - -“Yes, I shall return, father,” said John. “But I want this war ended -first.” - -After the boy had inquired for all the family, he said: - -“But why didn’t you bring Zip along, too?” - -“Poor Zip!” was the reply. “He mourned himself to death before you had -been gone a week. He never touched another mouthful of food, and would -only lie on your bed and moan.” - -General Knox soon returned with orders from the Commander-in-chief to -conduct Mr. Holden and John to his headquarters--a summons that must be -obeyed at once. - -General Washington received Mr. Holden very kindly and said smilingly: - -“I hear a story that sounds like a romance in the midst of war. Tell -me, my little fifer, how you came to leave your parents without their -knowledge, and to join my army at such a tender age?” - -John was somewhat abashed by this direct question from so dignified and -august a personage; but the General added kindly: - -“You have the name of being one of my bravest boys. Tell me how it -happened. You never ran away, did you?” - -“No, sir, never,” answered John with spirit. “I was playing with my -dog Zip, on Sorrel Hill, when a big wagon, full of men, came along. -They stopped when they saw me, and one of them called out, ‘Halloo, my -little fifer! We are looking for you. Jump in.’ I asked them if the -British bulls and lions were here, and they said ‘Yes, hurry up!’ I -jumped in, sir, and that was the way it happened.” - -Mr. Holden then remembered, for the first time, what he had said long -ago, when John asked him if he would be needed when the British bulls -and lions appeared. - -John’s story was met by a burst of laughter quite unusual with -Washington. Then patting the boy’s rosy cheeks, the General said, -“After this you must give us some music, my lad.” - -And John, quite elated, rendered a stirring march. - -“I don’t see how we can part with this brave boy of yours,” said -General Washington to Mr. Holden when the boy had finished playing; -“but parents have the first claim.” - -John was just then ordered to go and dismiss the men he had been -drilling, and he departed with a martial salute to his superiors, and -“I will be back in five minutes,” to his father. - -Mr. Holden, left alone, told the story of the mother’s deep faith, and -added, “John seems to be in his element here.” - -Then General Washington told the gratified parent an incident, showing -the spirit of the lad. - -“When I, with a number of my suite, approached the vicinity of Monmouth -Court House,” said he, “I was met by a little musician, who archly -cried out, ‘They are all coming this way, your Honor!’” - -“‘Who are coming this way?’” said I. - -“‘Why, our boys, your Honor! Our boys! and the British are right after -them!’” - -“‘Impossible!’ I cried; but spurring my horse, I found the boy’s words -only too true.” - -“He is a good boy,” added General Knox, “and invaluable in training raw -recruits. If they are homesick he talks kindly with them and cheers -them wonderfully with his ardent patriotism.” - -The boy just then returned and General Knox added, “Well, what did your -men say when you told them you were going home?” - -John blushed and answered, “I could not tell them that, your Honor. -Father, let me stay another year. Then I shall be thirteen and able to -help you more on the farm. You know mother is well, and the war will -soon be over.” - -What father in Revolutionary times could resist such an appeal? - -Washington smiled, and Mr. Holden consented. And after a kind farewell -from the Father of his Country, and a loving one from the young fifer, -Jonas Holden rode away, saying to himself: - -“My boy could not hold a more honored position. I leave him safe in the -hands of General Washington--and of God.” - -When, after seven more days of horseback riding, Jonas Golden arrived -at his own door in Shirley, he was met by his maiden sister with the -words: - -“Disappointed again! So it wasn’t our John at all? I tell you, you’ll -never see that boy again.” - -But Mr. Holden held out his hand to the boy’s mother. - -“My dear,” he said, “John is the happiest boy in the Continental Army.” - -It took a long time to tell the story of the journey; of his reception -at Washington’s headquarters; of his finding the boy; of his growth, -improvement, and popularity; of his close adherence to the principles -of right and truth which they had taught him; and of the great -Commander’s praise of their son. But at last the father said: - -“Have I done right in leaving him there?” - -“Just right,” said the mother. - - * * * * * - -John Holden returned to his parents when the war was over and lived to -a good old age. And his name may be seen, for the searching, even now, -on the books at Washington, as a pensioner of 1776. - - - - -ETHAN ALLEN AND THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS[I] - -By WASHINGTON IRVING - - The story of the capture of Fort Ticonderoga by the Robin Hood of the - New Hampshire Grants. - - -As affairs were now drawing to a crisis, and war was considered -inevitable, some bold spirits in Connecticut conceived a project for -the outset. This was the surprisal of the old forts of Ticonderoga and -Crown Point, already famous in the French war. Their situation on Lake -Champlain gave them the command of the main route to Canada; so that -the possession of them would be all-important in case of hostilities. -They were feebly garrisoned and negligently guarded, and abundantly -furnished with, artillery and military stores so much needed by the -patriot army. - -This scheme was set on foot in the purlieus, as it were, of the -provincial Legislature of Connecticut, then in session. It was not -openly sanctioned by that body, but secretly favored, and money lent -from the treasury to those engaged in it. A committee was appointed, -also, to accompany them to the frontier, aid them in raising troops, -and exercise over them a degree of superintendence and control. - -Sixteen men were thus enlisted in Connecticut, a greater number in -Massachusetts, but the greatest accession of force was from what -was called the “New Hampshire Grants.” This was a region having the -Connecticut River on one side and Lake Champlain and the Hudson River -on the other--being, in fact, the country forming the present State -of Vermont. It had long been a disputed territory claimed by New York -and New Hampshire. George II had decided in favor of New York; but -the Governor of New Hampshire had made grants of between one and two -hundred townships in it, whence it had acquired the name of the New -Hampshire Grants. The settlers on those grants resisted the attempts -of New York to eject them, and formed themselves into an association -called “The Green Mountain Boys.” Resolute, strong-handed fellows -they were, with Ethan Allen at their head, a native of Connecticut, -but brought up among the Green Mountains. He and his lieutenants, -Seth Warner and Remember Baker, were outlawed by the Legislature of -New York, and rewards offered for their apprehension. They and their -associates armed themselves, set New York at defiance, and swore they -would be the death of any one who should attempt their arrest. - -Thus Ethan Allen was becoming a kind of Robin Hood among the mountains, -when the present crisis changed the relative position of things as -if by magic. Boundary feuds were forgotten amid the great questions -of colonial rights. Ethan Allen at once stepped forward, a patriot, -and volunteered with his Green Mountain Boys to serve in the popular -cause. He was well fitted for the enterprise in question, by his -experience as a frontier champion, his robustness of mind and body, and -his fearless spirit. He had a kind of rough eloquence, also, that was -very effective with his followers. “His style,” says one, who knew him -personally, “was a singular compound of local barbarisms, Scriptural -phrases, and oriental wildness; and though unclassic, and sometimes -ungrammatical, was highly animated and forcible.” Washington, in one -of his letters, says there was “an original something in him which -commanded admiration.” - -Thus reinforced, the party, now two hundred and seventy strong, pushed -forward to Castleton, a place within a few miles of the head of Lake -Champlain. Here a council of war was held on the 2d of May. Ethan -Allen was placed at the head of the expedition, with James Easton and -Seth Warner as second and third in command. Detachments were sent -off to Skenesborough (now Whitehall), and another place on the lake, -with orders to seize all the boats they could find and bring them to -Shoreham, opposite Ticonderoga, whither Allen prepared to proceed with -the main body. - -At this juncture another adventurous spirit arrived at Castleton. This -was Benedict Arnold, since so sadly renowned. He, too, had conceived -the project of surprising Ticonderoga and Crown Point; or, perhaps, had -caught the idea from its first agitators in Connecticut--in the militia -of which province he held a captain’s commission. He had proposed the -scheme to the Massachusetts committee of safety. It had met their -approbation. They had given him a colonel’s commission, authorized him -to raise a force in western Massachusetts not exceeding four hundred -men, and furnished him with money and means. Arnold had enlisted but a -few officers and men when he heard of the expedition from Connecticut -being on the march. He instantly hurried on with one attendant to -overtake it, leaving his few recruits to follow as best they could; in -this way he reached Castleton just after the council of war. - -Producing the colonel’s commission received from the Massachusetts -committee of safety, he now aspired to the supreme command. His claims -were disregarded by the Green Mountain Boys; they would follow no -leader but Ethan Allen. As they formed the majority of the party, -Arnold was fain to acquiesce, and serve as a volunteer, with the rank, -but not the command, of colonel. - -The party arrived at Shoreham, opposite Ticonderoga, on the night of -the 9th of May. The detachment sent in quest of boats had failed to -arrive. There were a few boats at hand, with which the transportation -was commenced. It was slow work; the night wore away; day was about to -break, and but eighty-three men, with Allen and Arnold, had crossed. -Should they wait for the residue, day would dawn, the garrison wake, -and their enterprise might fail. Allen drew up his men, addressed -them in his own emphatic style, and announced his intention to make a -dash at the fort without waiting for more force. “It is a desperate -attempt,” said he, “and I ask no man to go against his will. I will -take the lead, and be the first to advance. You that are willing to -follow, poise your firelocks.” Not a firelock but was poised. - -They mounted the hill briskly but in silence, guided by a boy from the -neighborhood. The day dawned as Allen arrived at a sally-port. A sentry -pulled trigger on him, but his piece missed fire. He retreated through -a covered way. Allen and his men followed. Another sentry thrust at -Easton with his bayonet, but was struck down by Allen and begged for -quarter. It was granted on condition of his leading the way instantly -to the quarters of the commandant, Captain Delaplace, who was yet in -bed. Being arrived there, Allen thundered at the door, and demanded -a surrender of the fort. By this time his followers had formed into -two lines on the parade-ground, and given three hearty cheers. The -commandant appeared at his door half dressed, “the frightened face -of his pretty wife peering over his shoulder.” He gazed at Allen in -bewildered astonishment. “By whose authority do you act?” exclaimed -he. “In the name of the great Jehovah and the Continental Congress,” -replied Allen, with a flourish of his sword, and an oath which we do -not care to subjoin. - -There was no disputing the point. The garrison, like the commander, had -been startled from sleep, and made prisoners as they rushed forth in -their confusion. A surrender accordingly took place. - - - - -THE CAPTURE OF THE HENNEPIN GUN[J] - -By MARGARET EMMA DITTO - - The Fourth of July pranks of a young Ethan Allen and his - friends--descendants of the Green Mountain Boys of Revolutionary days. - - -On the evening of the third of July, somewhat more than fifty years -ago, a number of boys were gathered in secret council at a deserted -house on Otter Creek. The boys had come one by one in the gathering -gloom of the early darkness, creeping along from bush to copse or -hugging the shady side of the stone fences. They had come silently--no -lilt of merry whistle or song, no wanton hoot or random stone-fling, -had betrayed their presence on the road. - -“There are nine of us already,” whispered a tall boy of fifteen as -he shoved aside the hingeless door and peered out. “That is Seneca -Goodyear coming across the meadow. He is strong if he does limp. Come -in, Senk, and shut the door quick, hang your coat over the crack, -and I’ll stand against the lower part. Now, Martin, let out your -lantern--just a narrow slit of light and throw it on the floor--not in -our faces. Go on, Ethan, and tell them about it.” - -A heavy-shouldered boy with Saxon hair and eyes straightened himself -up from the cobwebby wall against which he had been leaning and settled -himself stolidly on his feet. This boy’s name was Ethan Allen and he -was a descendant of the Revolutionary hero of the same name. - -“There isn’t much to tell,” he began. “The Ogden County boys have -stolen our cannon--old ‘Ticonderoga’ that belongs to Hennepin County, -that we have fired off every Fourth of July, or our folks have, ever -since there was a Fourth of July. It has been stolen and carried across -the county line, and in less than four hours they will be banging it -in our faces from the top of Horncliffe. And we’ve got to get that gun -between this and midnight.” - -“How are we going to do it?” asked Seneca Goodyear. - -“That is what we have got to find out,” said Ethan. - -“Why don’t the men do something about it?” asked a conservative boy. -“I should think it ought to be settled by law; the gun was given to -the county by Eth’s grandfather, and it is county property the same as -everything else on the court-house grounds.” - -“Yes, it is county property,” said Seneca Goodyear. “And that is where -the point lies. I’ve heard father talk about it. It is some kind of -claim they set up on account of the new boundary line that has sliced -off miles and miles of our county, and now they have got the ground -they want everything that ever stood on the ground--their proportion of -county property they call it, and they have begun by helping themselves -to that gun. But there’s no right in their claim.” - -“Of course there’s not!” said one indignantly. - -“Ogden County is the meanest lot that live on top of the State of -Vermont anyway!” said another. - -“Well, the Ogden boys were smart enough to steal that gun,” said Ethan -Allen, “and if Hennepin boys are any smarter we’d better show our stuff -by getting it away from them.” - -“I don’t take it to be any question of smartness,” answered the -conservative boy. “It is quite as smart to keep out of a hornet’s nest -as it is to get into it, and then fight out stung half to death. The -question is, what are our chances for doing it? I’m not going on a -fool’s errand. To begin with, who took the gun? Where did they take it -to? Where is it now? And how do you know anything about it, anyway?” - -“We have got all that straight enough, and here is the boy that will -speak for himself. Come up here, Eph,” said Allen. - -Thus conjured, a boy arose from a dark corner and with a quick cat-like -motion came to the front. He looked to be an artless little fellow -of ten years, with his quiet eyes and his limp white locks hanging -about his small face. But in truth he was fourteen years old, and the -discipline of his life had made him shrewd and courageous. He showed -very thin and imp-like as the ray of the lantern fell upon him. It -seemed as if that sliver of light would go through him like a bayonet -and come out on the other side. - -There was a murmur of voices. “Oh, him!” - -“Eph Stearns--much he knows about it.” - -“Dodge down, you little white top, nobody wants to hear you!” - -But burly Ethan Allen shouldered up to the little fellow. “Go ahead, -Eph,” he said, “tell it to ’em just as you told it to me. Don’t be -scared.” - -“I wa’n’t scared last night, and I ain’t likely to be now,” said Eph -with a grin up at Ethan’s broad face. - -“That’s so. Shake hands. After all there is nothing little about you, -Eph--except yourself.” - -The little fellow looked bigger after this grip of good fellowship and -he piped up and began his story. - -“I was out last night,” he said. “It was near midnight I reckon. Most -all the lights was out in the village and everything was quiet. I was -out--out looking for something----” - -“He was out looking for his drunken old father,” whispered one of the -boys, nudging his neighbor. “That’s Eph’s regular beat nights. He is -afraid the old man will get run over, or get sunstruck by moonlight.” - -“Hush up, you,” said the boy addressed. “Eph isn’t to blame.” - -“I had been down by the cross-roads,” Eph went on. “You know where that -is.” - -“I think it’s likely we do--there is where General Stark buried a -traitor and staked him down with a crowbar,” said one. - -“For some time I didn’t hear anything,” Eph went on. “Then I heard -something coming along slow and still on the old turnpike. It didn’t -seem like a wagon at first, nothing about it rattled and squeaked -natural-like for a wagon. There must have been lots of axle grease onto -them wheels and that harness was oiled up and strapped up, I tell you, -and if them horses had a had smart-weed drafts onto their hoofs they -couldn’t have set ’em down more soft and quiet-like. When I saw that -it was a wagon and that there wa’n’t no signs of a driver to it--for -whatever was driving of it was flat on the bottom--then it came over me -that they was a-bringing home somebody dead in that wagon----” - -“And the Remains was driving itself home, quiet and respectable-like, -and conducting its own funeral--that’s accommodating now--I like that, -go on,” interrupted Martin. - -“Of course,” Eph admitted, looking a little “sheepish.” “Of course -there wa’n’t no sense in that--not by daylight. But that’s what I -thought of then, and I was hot and cold all to onct, I tell you, and -I streaked after that wagon, for I meant to get home to mother ahead -of it. I got up to the court house and lay down flat in that clump of -pines by the horse block, ’cause all the roads branch off from there -and I could see which way it went next. There wa’n’t no moon last -night, and precious few stars. - -“On come the wagon, slow and steady--just as if a chunk of the dark -had got loose from the rest of the dark and was moving on by itself. -It come close to the horse block and I could see it wa’n’t going down -any of the roads. Then I heard a clattering sound, and I knew they were -going over the round stones of the gutter, and the off horse struck -out a spark with his hoof. When I saw ’em a-following me up so close I -thought certain it was me they was after. But I had a good place for -dodging--out by the meeting-house sheds, or down the court-house steps -into the cellar, or round the wood pile--good places all of them, and -I thought I would chance it. But there wa’n’t no call for dodging. The -wagon just rolled quietly on a few steps and then stood stockstill and -six black shadows rose up one by one and got out on to the ground, and -when I saw that, why I could have squealed right out a-laughing. - -“I meant to see what they were after, so I dragged myself along like -a worm in the shadow of that bad-smelling green stuff that edges the -driveway, and I found out they were boys from over the line and they -had come for our gun. Phil Basset was bossing around--same as he -tried to when he came to the academy before Ethan settled him. He was -wheezing away like the croup, talking in big whispers full of wind, -telling everybody else to keep still, and where to put the crowbars -and how to lift all together when he give the word, one, two, three! -But just as he got to ‘three,’ there was a pin pointing toward the -calf of his leg, and I braced myself against that pin and it naturally -sent me off down the knoll, quiet-like and out of the way, and it left -him hollering and kicking. Then everybody dropped flat till they see -whether any one in the village heard the noise. When they went to work -again Phil said he’d been taken with cramp and couldn’t lift. But they -got the gun onto the wagon and started for home. Phil drove ’cause his -leg was lame and they was his father’s horses. The other five boys had -gone on ahead. - -“Well, when I saw that gun moving off, and I thought how that was ours -for sure, and we’d got it from the English and how we’d got ourselves -from the English--Fourth of July and all, so that they couldn’t -ever boss us again, and so that everybody was his own boss in this -country--why something rose up in my throat and choked me. Then I -thought about Eth, ’cause he’d had charge of the gun, and he’d been -awful good and let me help clean her up, and how we’d dug the rust -out of her and greased her and polished her, and he’d showed me the -powder and things for to-morrow and said I might touch her off the -first bang--then I nearly busted, only I saw that it wasn’t any time -for busting. I just got myself together pretty quick and jumped for the -tailboard of that wagon. I hung on--I thought I’d stick to that gun, -and if I died a sticking there, well then I’d die. - -“The boys had told Phil to take the new road to Tadman’s Ferry, ’cause -the hills were so steep on the old one, and the fellows were to go -cross-lots and meet him on the other side, and then they were going to -set the gun up as high as they could get it on Horncliffe. But Phil -said he reckoned he knew what the horses could haul, and as soon as he -was left to himself he struck off onto the old road. He was up high -on the seat and I’d crawled in and was laying on the bottom, flatter -than flat--froze on to the gun. We buzzed along lively at first. The -down-hills were rather shaky work you guess, but the up-hills were -worse, and they kept getting more so till we got to that awful steep -pitch near the top of Smith’s hill. You know where that is?” - -“Oh, yes,” said Martin. “There is where you have to lean backward to -keep from bumping your forehead when you go up. I suppose you rose to -the occasion, Eph--it must have stood you and the gun right up on end.” - -“I got out,” Eph went on, “for the horses stood stockstill and couldn’t -go an inch farther and then the wagon began to slip back, and Phil put -stones back of the wheels. Then he went at his horses again, whipping -and coaxing them. But it was no use. The road is slaty along there and -the horses had no grip for their feet. He had to give it up at last and -he left everything standing and went for the boys to get them to boost. -As soon as I knew I was alone I hid the crowbars in a hollow tree, and -I cut the traces and let the horses loose, and I took the linchpin out -of one of the wheels--it wasn’t in very tight, and I took the ramrod -of the gun, and I wrapped them traces around it and I dropped ’em into -the brook at the foot of the hill. Then I put for home, and I waked up -Ethan Allen and went to bed myself.” - -“I reckon you were in bed all the time, and saw all this with your eyes -shut in the dark,” said a derisive voice. - -“Sure you didn’t dream it, Eph?” asked Seneca kindly. - -“It is a good yarn, anyway,” said Martin who had a taste for fancy -sketches. “And it hangs together as well as most. I believe it is as -true as any of us could make up unless we had facts or some little -conveniences of that kind to go upon.” - -The little boy straightened up and leveled a look of indignant protest -at the scoffers. Then, turning to Ethan Allen, he said, “You go on--you -know about the rest of it.” - -“No chaffing about this not being true,” said Ethan, “we haven’t the -time for it. Eph wakened me up at two o’clock this morning with a -handful of gravel on my window, and I was over at Smith’s hill before -daylight, and I found the crowbars rammed up a hollow tree just as he -told me, and the gun is there by the roadside, tipped over in a kind -of gully, and there is some gravel on top of it, and a pile of dry -brushwood, so that any one driving along the road would not notice it, -and I fished the ramrod and old Basset’s traces out of the brook. I -reckon the Ogden boys are coming over for the gun to-night, and we want -to get in ahead of them. I can go, for one. Who else?” - -“Me, too,” piped in little Eph. - -“Oh, of course,” said Ethan. - -“Me, three--that makes six,” said Martin. - -“I will go,” said Seneca Goodyear in his slow, heavy way, “and I reckon -that father will let me have a team--our horses won’t have to work -to-morrow.” - -“Will your father make you tell what you are going to do with it?” -asked the conservative boy. - -“Well, no--not if I had rather not,” said Seneca. “He’ll trust me--and -that is the tightest tether I want to be fastened with. Sometimes -I wish he didn’t. I wouldn’t like to get home minus the traces and -linchpin and crowbars as Phil Basset did.” - -“Well, if Seneca goes, that takes me,” said Mark Hemingway, the tall -doorkeeper. “My folks said I might stay all night with Seneca and I -shall stick like a tick.” - -“I’ll go, and I, and I,” chorused the rest--conservative boy and all. - -Then Seneca Goodyear moved that Ethan Allan be captain of the -expedition. This was carried by acclaim. - -“All right,” said Ethan in terse acceptance of the appointment. “Now -we’ve got to be quicker than lightning and darker than thunder. We -don’t want the Ogden boys to get there ahead of us, and have to fight -them. No more we don’t want our folks stopping us nor helping us out -as if we were babies. We want the glory of this ourselves. Quick and -quiet is the word. All scatter and get ready and we’ll meet at the -cross-roads and start when the town clock strikes nine.” - -The company at the cross-roads organized as follows: - -Ethan Allen, captain. - -Eph Stearns, with the court-house mule, mounted scout. - -Martin Fox, with a dark lantern, spy and light skirmisher. - -Mark Hemingway, with an old triggerless flintlock of 1812, high private. - -The rank and file consisted of two boys with pistols and no cartridges, -and three boys with doughnuts and sweet apples, while the conservative -boy with a pocket-compass, a lead pencil, some string, and a chunk -of shoemaker’s wax, put in a bid as topographer, correspondent, and -surgeon. But Seneca Goodyear, with his stout team and wagon, well -equipped with ropes, crowbars, skids, and other lifting apparatus, was -the mainstay of the expedition. - -Little Eph Stearns was, for the nonce, a glorified being. Hitherto the -heroisms of his life had been of the obscure and pathetic kind. Angels -had inspired them, and a cloud of witnesses beheld them, but here the -chance had come for a heroism brilliant and jubilant. Ethan Allen told -him to go ahead and the big boys would see him do it. No wonder that -he wrought marvels. Besides lassoing the mule, he had got a bag of -shavings larger than himself, and a stout clothes line; the last two -were for some secret service of his own suggestion, though approved -by the captain. But the mule seemed to be a purely ornamental feature -of the occasion. He had been half-shoved, half-carried to the place of -rendezvous; here he seemed unwilling to go any farther. He was hitched -ignominiously to the tailboard of the wagon, and being pulled in front, -and poked in the rear by his doughty rider who walked behind for this -purpose, he moved off in spite of himself. - -Away into the darkness of that quiet summer night the expedition passed -on. The sleepy lights twinkled in the distant farmhouses, the dewy -winds came over the meadows and grain fields, and the stars looked -down from their solemn depths. The boys were rather quiet, for boys. -The secrecy of the affair, the chances for a fight which might prove -dangerous, the honorable and important character of the undertaking -all conspired to give a sombre coloring to the occasion. These were -veritable Green Mountain Boys, too, with the legends of heroic ancestry -all aglow in their young hearts and the strength of their own hills in -their sturdy purpose. - -After a half-hour’s ride the boys reached the place and found -everything all quiet. The gun was in bad shape, dislodged from the -carriage and pitched into the gully. Nobody knew how to go at it and -the darkness of the night added confusion to the situation. Now the -Secret Service blazoned itself splendidly forth. Eph emptied his -shavings on the ground in two piles, one or each side of the gun; upon -these he heaped the brushwood and in less than two minutes he had two -grand bonfires for the boys to work by. Then the little scout, with -mule and clothes line, disappeared over the brow of the hill. A few -rods below this point of vantage he stretched the clothes line across -the road; it was about a foot from the ground and fastened on either -side to the trunk of a tree. He then reported to his chief and received -reinforcements: one boy and munitions of war--an empty bag, in which he -gathered stones. - -Meanwhile at the gun the skids had been well adjusted by the firelight, -and the lifting went sturdily on. Upon the height of the hill Eph -awaited the onslaught of the enemy. The deploying force made a brave -line of battle: Eph on the right flank with a pile of stones, his aide -on the left, and the mule in the centre. They had not long to wait. -A heavy team was heard laboring up. Moving shadows soon were seen in -advance of it. - -“Now don’t waste your stones,” Eph orders his command. “Don’t fire -one of them till you see them Ogdens keel over the rope and hear them -holler. Then pelt away like Jehu, and whoop like an Indian, and they’ll -think it’s the regular army.” - -The enemy came on _en masse_, they tripped over the rope so beautifully -that Eph Stearns, boy and man, has laughed at the thought of it ever -since, they fell kicking and struggling and tangled up as to legs -and arms. Rattle and whiz came the stones in showers upon them, and, -to crown all, the mule cavorted right down into the thickest of the -scrimmage as if he had been Job’s war-horse smelling the battle afar. - -It was full ten minutes before the Ogden boys got themselves together -again, and during that ten minutes the last long pull and strong pull -had been given to the cannon and the iron giant was rolling comfortably -homeward in Seneca’s wagon. - -Then the boys hot, exultant, shouting, made a wild break for the enemy -as they came pelting over the brow of the hill. - -“Sneaks!” calls one, with a stone. - -“Thieves!” yells another. - -“At ’em--fight ’em!” shouts another, brandishing a big stick. - -“Let’s lay ’em out! thrash ’em!” - -“Hold on! Halt!” cries Captain Ethan with the voice of a trumpet and he -springs to the front of his little troop and faces them, his arms aloft -with a kind of impassioned dominance of voice and mien that hustles -back the pell-mell advance. - -“Halt! Form in line!” he calls, and the wild crowd sway into a kind of -half-circle about their captain. - -“Three cheers for Hennepin County and the Gun!” orders the captain. - -Shout, shout, shout. Oh, how they shouted! That wild hurrah rifted the -clouds and shook the mountains. Then as the echoes died away, in the -sharp interval of silence that followed, Captain Ethan faced around to -the enemy: - -“Now, gentlemen, what will you have?” - -“Three cheers for Ogden County!” returned the leader. - -“Ogden County--without the Gun, amen!” piped up Eph like a fife. - -But the three cheers were lustily given. The old Vermont hills echoed -and re-echoed again, and a vast deal of spleen spent itself in those -six cheers. - -“Now, all hands!” commanded Captain Ethan Allen in ringing tones. “Now, -both sides and everybody, give three cheers for the Green Mountain Boys -and the Fourth of July!” - -Again, and doubly loud, roared out the great shouts. Again the -mountains heard and the echoes reverberated around the sky. The stars -listened, in their far heights, and knew that America was a stronger -nation for the throb of patriotic feeling that pulsed through those hot -young hearts and voiced itself in those fine huzzas. - - - - -PAUL REVERE’S RIDE[K] - -By HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW - - Every American boy and girl ought to know by heart the story of how - Paul Revere on his famous ride called the minute-men to arms on the - eve of the Battle of Lexington. - - - Listen, my children, and you shall hear - Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, - On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; - Hardly a man is now alive - Who remembers that famous day and year. - - He said to his friend, “If the British march - By land or sea from the town to-night, - Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch - Of the North Church tower as a signal light-- - One if by land, and two if by sea; - And I on the opposite shore will be - Ready to ride and spread the alarm - Through every Middlesex village and farm, - For the country folk to be up and to arm.” - - Then he said, “Good-night!” and with muffled oar - Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, - Just as the moon rose over the bay, - Where swinging wide at her moorings lay - The _Somerset_, British man-of-war; - A phantom ship, with each mast and spar - Across the moon like a prison bar, - And a huge black hulk, that was magnified - By its own reflection in the tide. - - Meanwhile his friend, through alley and street, - Wanders and watches with eager ears, - Till in the silence around him he hears - The muster of men at the barrack door, - The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, - And the measured tread of the grenadiers - Marching down to their boats on the shore. - - Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, - By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, - To the belfry chamber overhead, - And startled the pigeons from their perch - On the sombre rafters, that round him made - Masses and moving shapes of shade-- - By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, - To the highest window in the wall, - Where he paused to listen and look down - A moment on the roofs of the town, - And the moonlight flowing over all. - - Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, - In their night encampment on the hill, - Wrapped in silence so deep and still - That he could hear, like a sentinel’s tread, - The watchful night-wind, as it went - Creeping along from tent to tent, - And seeming to whisper, “All is well!” - A moment only he feels the spell - Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread - Of the lonely belfry and the dead; - For suddenly all his thoughts are bent - On a shadowy something far away, - Where the river widens to meet the bay-- - A line of black that bends and floats - On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. - - Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, - Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride - On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. - Now he patted his horse’s side, - Now gazed at the landscape far and near, - Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, - And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; - But mostly he watched with eager search - The belfry tower of the Old North Church, - As it rose above the graves on the hill, - Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. - And lo! as he looks, on the belfry’s height - A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! - He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, - But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight - A second lamp in the belfry burns! - - A hurry of hoofs in a village street, - A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, - And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark - Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet: - That was all! And yet through the gloom and the light - The fate of a nation was riding that night; - And the spark struck out by that steed in his flight - Kindled the land into flame with its heat. - - He has left the village and mounted the steep, - And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, - Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; - And under the alders that skirt its edge, - Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, - Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. - - It was twelve by the village clock - When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. - He heard the crowing of the cock, - And the barking of the farmer’s dog, - And felt the damp of the river fog - That rises after the sun goes down. - It was one by the village clock - When he galloped into Lexington. - He saw the gilded weathercock - Swim in the moonlight as he passed, - And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, - Gaze at him with a spectral glare, - As if they already stood aghast - At the bloody work they would look upon. - - It was two by the village clock - When he came to the bridge in Concord town. - He heard the bleating of the flock, - And the twitter of birds among the trees, - And felt the breath of the morning breeze - Blowing over the meadows brown. - And one was safe and asleep in his bed - Who at the bridge would be first to fall, - Who that day would be lying dead, - Pierced by a British musket-ball. - - You know the rest. In the books you have read - How the British Regulars fired and fled-- - How the farmers gave them ball for ball - From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, - Chasing the redcoats down the lane, - Then crossing the fields to emerge again - Under the trees at the turn of the road, - And only pausing to fire and load. - - So through the night rode Paul Revere; - And so through the night went his cry of alarm - To every Middlesex village and farm-- - A cry of defiance and not of fear, - A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, - And a word that shall echo forevermore! - For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, - Through all our history, to the last, - In the hour of darkness and peril and need, - The people will waken and listen to hear - The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, - And the midnight message of Paul Revere. - - - - -TONY’S BIRTHDAY AND GEORGE WASHINGTON’S[L] - -By AGNES REPPLIER - - Washington’s Birthday--boys skating--and how one timid little boy - called after the Father of his Country lived up to his illustrious - name. - - -It was the great misfortune of Tony Butler’s life to have been born on -the twenty-second of February. - -There was no comfort in reflecting that there were doubtless plenty of -other boys in the country who labored under the same disadvantage. The -other boys might perhaps be better fitted for the honor, but for poor -Tony the distinction was a crushing one. - -In the first place, he had an older brother, and that older brother’s -name was George. Now it is generally conceded that one of a name is -enough for any family; but when Tony was born on the twenty-second of -February, how was poor Mrs. Butler to act? - -Not to have called him after the Father of his Country would have been, -in that good woman’s opinion, a positive slight to the illustrious -dead. As long as her boy was fortunate enough to have the same -birthday as our great President, it became her plain duty to give him -one other point of resemblance, and then trust to time to complete the -likeness. - -It was a pity that they had a George already, but that difficulty could -be done away with by calling her second son Washington. Washington -Butler sounded well, and seemed all that was desirable; only there was -just a little too much of it for every-day use. Sometimes the boy was -called Washie, and sometimes Wash, and sometimes Wah, and sometimes -Tony, until, as he grew older, and able to talk, he evinced a decided -preference for the last title, and would answer to no other. - -But although this lessened his troubles it by no means ended them; for -when a child has so many nicknames to choose from, everybody is apt to -select a different one; and to confess the truth, he was not at all the -right sort of a boy to be called George Washington. - -There was nothing of the soldier, nothing of the patriot, nothing at -all remarkable, about poor Tony in any way. He was a shy, homely little -boy, who would have passed well enough as plain Sam, which, being -his father’s name, would also have been his had it not been for his -unfortunate birthday. But as George Washington, even his doting mother -was forced to realize he was not a complete success. - -The first day he went to school the master sonorously read out his name -as Antony Butler, whereat his brother giggled, and Tony, blushing fiery -red, stammered out that he was not an Antony at all. - -“Not Antony?” said the teacher, in natural surprise. “Why, then, are -you called Tony?” - -“Because my name is George Washington, and we had a George already,” -was the embarrassed answer. - -After this the boys with one accord dubbed him Washing Tony, as if he -were a Chinese laundryman, and Washing Tony he continued to be called. - -Under these circumstances, perhaps he was excusable in wishing he had -been born on some less illustrious day, and when the Twenty-second came -duly around it required all the delights of a new pair of skates and a -fur cap to reconcile him entirely to his fate. - -It being a general holiday, all the boys proposed spending it on the -ice, and Tony could skate a great deal better than he could write or -cipher; although even here he was never what boys consider brave, and -what their parents are apt to more accurately define as foolhardy. - -The truth is, there was not in the child a spice of that boyish daring -which seems so attractive in its possessor, and which is in reality so -wanton and useless. - -Tony never wanted to climb high trees, or jump from steep places, or -pat a restive horse, or throw an apple at a cross old farmer. All these -things, which were dear to the hearts of his companions, were totally -unattractive to him. He could never be dared to any deed that had a -touch of danger in it, and the contrast between his prudent conduct -and his illustrious title was, in the eyes of all the other boys, the -crowning absurdity of the case. - -On this particular birthday the weather, though clear, was mild for -the season, and some apprehension had been felt as to the complete -soundness of the ice. A careful investigation, however, showed it to be -all firm and solid except in one corner, where the lake was deepest, -and where the ice, though unbroken, looked thin and semi-transparent, -with the restless water underneath. Around this uncertain quarter -a line was drawn, and soon some thirty or forty boys were skimming -rapidly over the frozen surface. - -Fred Hazlit and Eddy Barrows were the champion skaters of the district, -and their evolutions were regarded with wonder and delight by a host of -smaller boys, who vainly tried to rival their achievements. - -Not so Tony. Although perfectly at home on the ice, he seemed to have -no more desire to excel here than elsewhere, but skated gravely up and -down, enjoying himself in his sober fashion, his cap drawn over his -eyes, his little red hands thrust in his overcoat pockets. - -George, who did not think this at all amusing, was off with the older -boys, trying to write his name on the ice, and going over and over it -with a patient persistency that, practised at school, would have made -him the first writer in his class. - -Gradually the forbidden ground began to be encroached on, some of the -older boys skimming lightly over it, and finding it quite hard enough -to bear their weight. Soon the line was obliterated by a dozen pairs -of skates, and the children, never heeding it, spread themselves over -every inch of ice on the lake. - -All but Tony. With characteristic prudence he had marked the dangerous -corner well, and never once ventured upon it. As he stopped to tighten -his skates, four of the younger boys, hand in hand, came bearing down -upon him. - -“Catch hold,” shouted Willie Marston, “and we’ll make a line. Hurrah! -Here goes!” and Tony with the rest shot across the smooth sheet of ice -until they came to the inclosed quarter. The others were keeping right -on, but Tony stopped short. - -“It is not safe,” he said, “and I am not going on it.” - -“Nonsense!” cried Dick Treves. “What a coward you are, Tony! We have -been over it a dozen times already this morning, and it is just as safe -as the rest.” - -“Of course it is,” said Willie. “Come ahead.” - -But Tony did not go ahead. Neither did he discuss the matter, for -argument of any kind was not at all in his way. He merely stopped and -let go of Willie’s hand. “It isn’t safe,” he persisted. “You can do as -you like, but I am not going on it.” - -“Well, stay there,” said Ned Marston, giving him a little shove--“stay -where you are, General Washington, and cross the Delaware on dry land -if you can.” - -“Three cheers for General Washington!” shouted Dick derisively. “Hurrah -for the bravest of the brave!” and then the three boys skated on, -leaving Tony standing there upon the ice. - -His face flushed crimson with shame, but he never stirred. He hated to -be laughed at and called a coward, but he was afraid to venture, and no -amount of ridicule could urge him on. - -Slowly he turned to go when at that instant an ominous sound struck his -ear. The treacherous ice was cracking in all directions, a dozen jagged -seams spreading like magic over the smooth surface. There was a sharp -snap, a cry of terror, a splash, and three boys, white with fright, -started back from the yawning hole barely in time to save themselves -from falling. - -In the excitement and fear of that moment no one of them thought of -his companion; but Tony, who stood beside, had seen poor Willie’s -despairing blue eyes fixed on him with a mute appeal for help as he -staggered and fell into the dark water. - -Somehow all his habitual caution, which was so falsely termed -cowardice, had disappeared; he never even thought of being afraid, with -that pitiful glance still before his eyes, but, urged on by some great -impulse, cleared the space between them in an instant, and plunged down -after his drowning friend. - -Another minute and both boys re-appeared, Willie clutching fiercely at -his preserver, and Tony holding him off as well as he could with one -arm while he struck out bravely with the other. - -It was but the work of a moment before help reached them, but that -moment had saved poor Willie’s life, and changed forever the opinions -of the school. - -They had learned what true courage was. Tony Butler might be timid and -insignificant, but he had proved himself beyond a doubt worthy of his -illustrious name, and a fit hero for the Twenty-second. - - - - -A VENTURE IN 1777[M] - -By S. WEIR MITCHELL - - A good, long boy’s story of how three Philadelphia lads spent an - exciting Christmas at Valley Forge, after performing a service of - great value to the patriots’ cause. - - -I - -This is a story of a boy and two other boys. - -Tom Markham was fifteen and over, and was careful when asked his age to -say he was in his sixteenth year. His brothers were two years younger. -When Harry was asked how old he was he said he was as old as Bill, and -when any one inquired his age of Bill he replied that he was as old as -Harry. This was because being twins they got somehow mixed up when they -were born, and no one knew which was ten minutes the older. - -Between themselves the twins considered the matter of precedence based -on age as important, and now and then endeavored to adjust matters by -wager of battle. It was settled at last by the elder brother, Tom, who -decided that they should be elder year about. Thus, in 1777 Bill was -the older, and was sadly regarding the lapse into youth which was -about to come in 1778, when Harry would be in turn the senior. - -While Tom, who was to be sixteen in February, looked older, his -brothers appeared younger than their years, and were two saucy, -clever, reckless lads. A look of child-like innocence was part of the -protective capital the twins invested in mischief. They fought one -another, made common cause against the world, and had, as concerned -Tom, a certain amount of respect founded on physical conditions. At the -close of this year 1777, Sir William Howe held the city of Penn with -some eighteen thousand men. Twenty miles away George Washington waited -in his lines at Valley Forge with three or four thousand half-starved -soldiers. - -Between the two armies Nature had established a nearly neutral ground, -for on it lay the deepest snow the land had known for many a year. It -was both foe and friend to the Continental soldiers, whom starvation -and cold were daily tempting to desertion, and among whom disease in -many forms was busily recruiting for the army of the dead. - -The well-fed British regulars in and near the city found in the snow -an obstacle which forbade Sir William Howe to move, discouraged -enterprise, and gave excuses for inertness, since no general at that -time ventured to think of a winter campaign, until in ’78 the Virginia -general read his enemy a novel lesson in the art of war. - -The land between the city of Philadelphia and Valley Forge on both -sides of the Schuylkill was in ’77 a fertile country of large farms to -which narrow wood roads led from the main highways. On to this region -of winter, scouting or foraging parties of both armies ventured at -times, and from it in good weather the farmers, despite the efforts -of our scant cavalry, took supplies to the snow-beleaguered city, and -sometimes, if Tories, information of value. - -In the best houses of the city there were quartered, to the disgust of -the Whig dames, a great number of British officers. They were to be fed -without charge and were unpleasant or not personally disagreeable, as -chanced to be the case. - -Mrs. Markham’s ample house on Third Street, near Spruce, had its share -of boarders thus comfortably billeted, to the satisfaction of her Tory -neighbors who were not thus burdened or who gladly entertained officers -of distinction. - -The owner of the house, Colonel Markham, of the Continental line, lay a -prisoner in New York, when on Christmas Eve, in this year of 1777, Mrs. -Markham and three unwelcome guests sat down to supper. - -Tom, the elder son, stood at the window watching the big white -snowflakes flitting across the black squares of the night-darkened -panes. - -“Come, my son,” said Mrs. Markham, and he took the vacant seat, his -mind on the joys to which the weather was contributing in the way of -coasting, skating, and snowball wars. - -This terrible winter was one thing to Sir William Howe, another to -George Washington, and a quite delightful other to Tom Markham. “I -suppose, Tom,” said the mother, as he took his seat, “this sort of -Christmas weather is much to your liking.” - -“Why, any fellow would like it, mother.” - -“There is everything in the point of view,” she returned, smiling. “I -have no recollection of a winter like this.” - -In truth, the weather was keeping Christmas with a bountiful gift of -fresh snow to the earth which was already heavily burdened. - -Within the house a cheerful wood-fire blazed on the hearth. Two -branched silver candelabra lighted the table, and the furniture, -portraits, and round mirrors all told of ease and luxury. - -“I have to thank you for the turkey, Captain Verney,” said Mrs. -Markham. “My supplies are running low and soon you will be no better -fed than the Continentals.” - -“Rebels, madam,” said Colonel Grimstone, a rough, red-faced soldier, -who had risen from the ranks. “I think we shall have to be fed and well -fed, too. I have asked five officers to dine here next week, on New -Year’s Day.” - -Tom looked straight at the fat Colonel and wished he were himself a man. - -“By that time,” said Mrs. Markham, laughing, “you will have little -besides pork and potatoes; Heaven knows what else.” - -“Oh, you will find us enough. All you rebel ladies tell the same story. -A bit tough, this mutton.” - -For the first time she broke into angry reply. “Then, sir, it is like -your manners--hard to digest.” - -What with care and anxiety, she had come to the place where open wrath -is the only escape from the shame of tears. - -To her surprise the Colonel made no rejoinder. The younger officer at -his side caught his eye as he was about to make some insolent reply. - -Captain, the Honorable John Verney, to be some day in the peerage if -spared by war, was a person whom the Colonel did not care to offend, -and who, as Mrs. Markham spoke, said, “You had better get another -billet, Grimstone. No doubt André would exchange with you.” - -The Colonel growled but held his tongue, knowing very well that few -officers were as well cared for as Mrs. Markham’s guests. - -Verney, a gentleman of the best, smiled at her and nodded reassuringly. -He meant, as often before, to set her at ease as to her difficulty in -suiting the Colonel. - -The third guest, a Hessian officer, Count Von Einstein, annoyed by the -Colonel’s rudeness, turned the talk aside as he said, in fair English: -“The letter you gave me for your husband in New York I was able to -forward but I had first to go through the form of reading it: I think I -did say so; else it could not have gone.” - -“Of course,” returned Mrs. Markham, coloring. “Is there any chance of -exchange of prisoners?” - -“I fear not,” said Verney, “unless the Continentals should capture the -Count or Colonel Grimstone.” - -“There isn’t much chance of that, mother,” whispered Tom. “They like -town too well.” - -“Hush!” she said, but smiled at him affectionately. Amid the stress -of war, the talk at table, and his mother’s anxiety, the lad had -become thoughtful beyond his years. “What a terrible night!” said Mrs. -Markham, as the wind roared around the house and the casements rattled. -Her mind was on the camp at Valley Forge, whence came, from the Quaker -farmers, now and then, tales of starvation, misery, and desertion very -encouraging to Sir William Howe, who felt that there was small need to -assist the weather in fighting his battles. - -Some such thought was in the mind of the Colonel, for he remarked, “The -rebels must be enjoying it.” - -“There are two sides to that question,” replied Verney. - -“How two, sir?” asked Grimstone. - -“Oh, we cannot move,” said the Count. “Not even the great Frederick -ever made a campaign in winter.” - -“Who wants to move? I do not,” growled the Colonel. - -“I would try it, if I were Sir William.” - -“And how?” asked the Colonel. - -“Well, this way,” said Verney. - -He rose, and taking a sheet of paper from a desk near by sat down again -and rapidly drew the course of the river Schuylkill. “This way. March -five thousand men up each side of the river, cross on the ice from this -side, and attack on both sides at once.” - -The Count looked up. “That is just what Major Montresor is urging Sir -William to do, and at once. He hesitates----” - -“But the snow,” said the Colonel. - -“He won’t try it,” returned Verney. - -“No, thank Heaven,” said the Colonel, and the sketch was crumpled up -and cast aside to fall on the floor under the table. - -Supper was over, the table cleared, and the men sat talking together. -At this time broke in the twins, beating off the snow and pounding with -their cold feet on the floor. - -“I have a sword,” and “I have a drum,” cried the twins. - -“Goodness, you little rebels! I shall run,” laughed Verney. - -“And I,” cried the Count. - -“You are late, boys,” said Mrs. Markham. - -“Aunt Mary kept us.” - -“Did you put away the lantern?” - -“No, mother,” said Bill. - -“Why not? I told you to be careful of it. What mischief have you -been up to? I shall be easier when the holidays are over and the -schoolmaster is busy with his ferrule.” - -The twins looked at each other and were silent. - -“Come,” said Verney, “out with it, boys.” - -“You’re the oldest, Harry,” said Bill. - -“Out with it, Gemini,” said Verney. - -Harry was silent, and it was Bill who replied. - -“Well, Sambo--that’s Aunt Mary’s man, sir--he wouldn’t let us carry the -lantern.” - -Verney, the sympathetic lover of all their mischief, asked, “What then, -Bill?” - -“We kicked his shins and he dropped the lantern and it went out, and a -soldier came along and he said we had no lantern and he must take Sambo -to the Guardhouse.” - -Verney, much amused, said: “You young rebels are always in mischief. -The orders of Mr. Galloway are that every one after dark must carry a -lantern.” - -“Well, we wanted to carry it.” - -“What did Sambo say?” - -“He ran away when the soldier said he had no light. Then we ran, too, -like everything.” - -“And was that all?” The twins hesitated. “Oh, don’t be afraid,” cried -Verney. “What next?” - -“We hurrahed for Washington and snowballed him.” - -“What, Washington?” - -“No, sir, the soldier; and he ran after us and we ran down Willings -Alley and got over the wall and then over our own wall, and that -soldier-man he is asking questions of Mr. Willing’s cook.” - -Tom grinned approval, the Count looked serious, and Verney laughed -while the Colonel said, “I have a mind to spank both of you.” - -Mrs. Markham turned on him. “I can attend to those ceremonies myself, -sir”--a fact of which the twins were well aware. - -The Colonel made no reply, but Verney said: “In the interest of -patriotism, madam, you cannot possibly court-martial them.” - -“And it is Christmas Eve, mother,” said Tom. - -“Well, it is largely your fault, Mr. Verney. You spoil them too much.” - -“I shall reform, madam. We shall reform, Gemini.” - -“To bed with you, lads,” she said. - -“Couldn’t we sit up a little?” said Verney. - -“Please, madam,” urged the Count. - -“Then half an hour. Come to the fire. Lie down on the rug, boys. Why, -your hands are half frozen.” The Count and Verney drew to the hearth -and the Colonel sat at the table. He was quite outside of the group -around the fire. - -“You have been so good,” said Verney, “that I shall have some little -presents for you to-morrow.” The twins wished to hear of them. “No,” -he said, “you must wait.” But in the morning he and the Colonel had to -go out to inspect the works Major Montresor had thrown up at Chestnut -Hill. They would use their own horses and Mrs. Markham’s sleigh, and -would their mother let the boys go? - -“They are so good,” said Verney. - -“Oh, do, mother!” cried the twins. - -The Colonel at the table growled that children were in the way, -nuisances; but Verney took his assent for granted, and somewhat -reluctantly the mother yielded, her friend Verney promising to take -care of them. - -Tom liked very well this chance to see the soldiers, but showed the -growing boy’s usual appearance of being unenthusiastic. Moreover, he -hated the Colonel as much as he liked Verney. - -Assured of the frolic, the twins frankly opened the question of -Christmas presents with their friendly German guest, Mrs. Markham -protesting in vain. - -The Count laughed. “_Guter himmel_, children. I have no presents. Ask -the Colonel; he might dream you each a pony.” The Colonel by this time -was sound asleep. - -“It’s no use,” said Harry. - -“Not even if he was awake,” said Bill. “If you haven’t got any -presents, tell us a story.” - -This he had done many times, liking the lads. Now at this Christmas -season he was thinking of his distant home and his wife and children, -away in the Fatherland. - -“Come, come, Count,” said Verney; “I like stories.” - -The Count sat still, reflecting. - -“He’s getting ready,” said Harry. - -“It will be a Christmas story, boys.” - -“By all means,” said Verney, seeing as he spoke the old Devonshire -hall--his home, the holly and the mistletoe, and hearing the merriment -that seemed to sail to him on fairy ships over three thousand miles of -sea. They would drink his health this night. - -He was recalled to a sense of his alien surroundings as the Count said: -“This is a story, boys, my father used to tell when I was a little -fellow, but it was never told except on Christmas Eve when we sat in -the great hall of my own home.” - -“What made you come away to fight us?” This was Bill’s contribution. -Harry punched him to emphasize his wish that there should be no -interruptions. - -Mrs. Markham did not, as usual, reprove the twin whose ingenious -capacity to unite impertinence and curiosity was in great need of -check. She merely looked up at the Hessian gentleman, who gravely made -reply to Bill: “I am a soldier and go where I am ordered, even though -it take me to death.” - -The twins discussed this later, but Tom was old enough to note the -suddenly serious look of the officer as Mrs. Markham, who knew his -history, said: “Be quiet, boys. I want to hear the story, even if you -do not.” - -“But we do,” cried the twins. - -“When I tell this story I think of the great hall of the castle, with -no light but what the big logs gave, and how it flashed red on the -armor and on the lances and swords on the walls.” - -“Why must there be no lights?” asked Harry. - -“Because we think in Hesse that at midnight when the blessed day is -just born the Christ comes to the door and blesses the home. As He is -the light of the world there must be no other light but the fire for -warmth, like the comforting of His love for all, all of us. But now I -must not be interrupted.” - -“If Bill does it again,” said the other twin, “I will----” - -“Just you try,” returned Bill. - -“I shall thrash you both,” said Tom. - -“You can’t!” - -On this the mother said they should all three go to bed if they spoke -a word in the next half-hour. Upon this there was silence and only the -occasional interchange of such warlike signals as are well known to -boys. - -The Count went on, the three lads now eagerly attentive, while Verney -sat by giving at need a faint whistle to check or lower the fine -snoring of the Colonel. - -“Once upon a time in old days there was a King, and the time it was -once upon was Christmas Eve. Then, as was the custom, Rathumus, the -maker of stories for the King, came to him and said, ‘Come with me that -under the stars I tell you the Christmas tale.’ The King went with him -into the garden. - -“‘This,’ said the teller of tales, ‘O King, is the night of all nights -that brings to men wise counsel for their own birthdays, when kings who -are merciful set free many who are in prison for debt.’ - -“‘But now in this kingdom on the birthday of the Christ, the King of -Kings, a hundred couriers sit on their horses at the gate waiting for a -message of pardon and release to all who are in prisons for wrong-doing -or for having displeased my lord the King. This is the law of the land. -But if the King in his wrath has one he will not set free, then none -are released, and the couriers ride sad to the homes of those who bide -in sorrow.’ - -“On this the maker of stories went away and the King stayed alone in -the garden. It was very quiet and the stars watched him to see what -would come, for now it was near to midnight, and over all the land -many who knew of the custom stood at their doors longing to see the -white-robed couriers arrive with news of pardon on that Christmas Day. - -“Now there is always for every man some woman of whom he is afraid, -and so it was with the King. It was not the Queen, because she was -dead, but it was the King’s daughter, who wanted to marry a brave young -Prince, and was angry because the King saw no way to prevent it except -to keep him shut up in a high tower. - -“The stars all felt sorry when the King cried out, ‘Never will I let -him out--never!’ - -“Then a little wind sobbed through the trees and was still and the -roses in the shadows prayed and the nightingales ceased to sing. There -was a great quietness. - -“The King sat down on a seat and was angry with the custom and with -himself, and shut his eyes and thought, for now he must decide. If he -would not set free the Prince there would be no Christmas prayers for -him in all the wide land. But no, he would not free the Prince. - -“Of a sudden he heard a voice say softly: ‘If, O King, you move you -will surely die. Listen!’ Then he looked and saw in the darkness a dim -figure with great white wings and was afraid, and as he listened he -heard: ‘O King, around the throne of God a million courier angels are -waiting in prayer. And at the noon of night the Christ will speak, and -they will fly to set loose from chains of sin those who have this year -offended a greater King than you. Hark, the clock strikes! They are -on their way to open for you and many the prison doors of cruelty and -wrong-doing.’ - -“Of a sudden the angel was gone and the nightingales sang again, while -the King went to the gate and cried to the couriers, ‘Go, with my -pardon.’ - -“Then in the palace the Princess said to her ladies: ‘Quick, take off -my swan wings and never tell what I have done, or none of you shall -ever be married.’ - -“Very soon came the King, and said, ‘I have seen an angel!’ - -“And so the Prince was set free and married that clever Princess and -was ever after good and happy.” - - * * * * * - -“What a pretty tale!” said Mrs. Markham; “and now to bed, to bed, boys.” - -“Thank you, sir,” said Tom. - -Bill was silent. - -“Then it wasn’t a real angel,” said Harry. - -“Yes, it was,” laughed Verney. “It was a woman.” - -On this Harry, who had the gift of imagination, got up and kissed his -mother, who, comprehending him, smiled. - -Just as they were going noisily to bed a servant came in and said -an orderly was without. He gave a paper to Verney, who awakened the -Colonel and gave him a letter. - -The Colonel rubbed his eyes and looked at it. “I hoped they had -forgotten. Here are our orders to inspect the lines to-morrow on Mount -Airy and Chestnut Hill.” - -“And here,” said Verney, “is Montresor’s map of the forts in and about -the city. He promised me to send it as a guide to the outlying works.” -The twins having gone, Tom lingered, unnoticed. - -“Let me see that map,” said the Colonel. They spread it on the table -and began to consider it. - -“May I look?” asked Tom, as usual curious. - -“Certainly,” said Verney. “I will explain it to you. See, here are -bastions and these dots the cannon. Here is the _tête du pont_, a work -to defend the upper ferry.” - -“It is rather droll to me,” said Count Einstein. “Eighteen thousand men -ought to be bastions enough.” - -“Not for Sir William,” laughed Verney. - -“It is Montresor’s own copy,” said Grimstone. “It is signed.” - -“I should be pretty careful of it,” said the Count, a brave and -well-trained soldier. - -This readiness to explain the plans to Mrs. Markham and her interested -boy seemed to him unwise. More than once full knowledge of contemplated -army movements had in some mysterious way reached the snowbound enemy. - -Mrs. Markham stood by looking over Tom’s shoulder, and presently said, -“It is quite incomprehensible to me. Do you understand it, Tom?” - -“I think so. See, mother, in one place he marks a weak point.” - -“Have you, Mr. Verney, any such plans of the lines at Valley Forge?” -she asked gaily. - -“You had better inquire of Major Montresor,” said the Count, not -fancying the too-free talk. - -“To exchange plans would simplify matters,” said Mrs. Markham, from -whom it is to be feared the twins inherited their capacity for mischief. - -The Count, much the ablest of the three officers, looked up at her of -a sudden grave. Tom, always on easy terms with Verney, went on eagerly -asking intelligent questions. - -“It is time, my son, you went to bed,” said the mother. “If George -Washington, Count, could make no more of that tangle of lines than I, -you might safely make him a Christmas gift of it.” - -“Let him come and get it,” laughed Verney. - -“They are pretty poor with their Continental rag money,” growled -Grimstone, “but I suppose that map would easily fetch----” - -“Fetch!” broke in the Count, still less relishing the talk. “It -wouldn’t fetch five shillings.” There was an unusually sharp note in -his voice. “Roll it up, Verney.” - -He was the senior officer present, and Verney, at once recognizing the -implied rebuke as something like an order, took the hint, saying, as he -rolled the map, “I wanted to ask you if you thought----” - -The Count put a hand on his shoulder with the slight pressure which -gave force to his words as he said: “We will talk of it, sir, another -time. Permit me to say that if I were you I should be careful of that -map.” This was in an aside to Verney as the boy left them. - -Among them they had set the adventurous mind of a fearless young rebel -to thinking in a fashion of which they little dreamed. - -“I shall be careful, sir,” and then with his gay manner and the -self-confidence of youth, he added: “What with the Gemini and Tom -and the Colonel, it ought to be safe enough. What time should we go -to-morrow, Colonel?” - -“Nine will be early enough.” - -“Will you lend me your sable coat?” asked Verney of the Count. - -“With pleasure.” - -“I like best my sealskin,” said Grimstone. “It is not so heavy. Do you -really mean to take the boys?” - -“Of course I do. We want Tom to hold the horses while we tramp about, -and the Gemini must have the frolic. I promised.” - -Tom listened, well pleased. He paused on his way to bed, and while the -officers were studying Major Montresor’s elaborate map, he pocketed the -rough sketch of attack Verney had crumpled up and cast under the table. - -The boy was by this time more than merely curious. Being intelligent -and thoughtful, all this war talk interested him, and now for two years -his father’s letters while in service and the constant discussion -he heard had rendered familiar the movements of the two armies and -the changing fortunes of the war. The great value of the map of Sir -William’s chief engineer had been made plain to him, and his mother’s -gay suggestion that it would be a nice Christmas gift to Washington -set the lad to planning all manner of wild schemes as he lay abed. He -finally gave it up in despair. How could a boy manage to steal a map -from a man like Verney and then get to Valley Forge? It was no use to -bother about it, and he went to sleep. - - -II - -The boys were up early, overjoyed to see a brilliant, sunshiny day. -Mrs. Markham provided an ample luncheon, and with Verney and the -Colonel in front of the sleigh, and the twins and Tom well muffled up -on the back seat, the party sped away, the snow creaking under the -runners. The twins talked, laughed, and sang, while Tom sat still, -thinking. - -They paused again and again in Germantown and beyond it to inspect -positions or to talk to officers. At Chestnut Hill they drove down the -westward slope and finally came upon the farther picket line below the -hill. Verney, an engineer officer, thought a field work was needed at -this point. Accordingly, the two officers got out, leaving their fur -overcoats in the sleigh, as the air was now warmer and they had to -tramp some distance through the heavy drifts of snow. - -The Colonel put Montresor’s map in the pocket of his fur coat, which he -folded and laid in the sleigh. Verney also left the Count’s rich sable -at the feet of the twins. - -“We shall be gone half an hour, boys,” said Verney. “Had we not better -call a corporal from the fire yonder to stand by the horses?” - -“Lord, man,” said Grimstone, “they would stand till night. They are -dead tired. Won’t you want the map?” - -“No,” said Verney; “I know it by heart.” - -About a hundred yards distant was a great campfire and just ahead of -them an outlying picket of two soldiers, one on each side above the -road. Tom sat on the front seat, the reins in his hand. Of a sudden a -mad idea came into his mind. - -The map was in the sleigh. The two officers were far away, tramping -through the drifts. Before him lay the lonely highway. He would take -the map to Washington. He forgot the peril of the mad venture now -tempting him, or gave it but a boy’s passing thought. His summers had -been spent at a farm near White Marsh. He knew the country well. The -temptation was too much for him. - -A man would have realized the difficulties and the danger for the -smaller boys. He did not. A boy’s mind is more simple. The risks for -himself were merely additional temptations. - -He stood up, the reins in his hand, and gazed anxiously after the -retreating forms of the two officers. Then he turned to his brothers. - -“Get over in front, Bill; quick, and don’t make a noise.” - -There was mischief in the air as Bill at once knew. He climbed over the -seat and waited. - -“Hold fast, Harry,” said Tom. “These horses are going to run away.” - -“Oh, let me out,” cried Harry. - -“No, hold on, and keep quiet.” - -“What fun!” cried Bill. “We are to have a ride all to ourselves.” - -“Do you whack the horses, Bill. They’ll go. Wait a moment.” He gave one -last look around him and ahead. - -Beyond the picket the road ran straight for a mile. He had his moment -of final hesitation, but it was soon over. No one was in sight near -by, and his eyes roamed over the trackless vacancy of snow-clad spaces -into which the highway disappeared. - -“Are you ready, Bill?” he said, handing him the whip. - -“All right,” said Bill, seeing desirable mischief ahead and enjoying -the prospect. - -Harry was less eager, but, ashamed to confess his fears, said bravely, -“Well, Tom, hurry up.” - -“Now,” said Tom, “do you, Bill, hit the horses with the whip, not too -hard. They’ll go.” - -They did go, for Bill, enchanted, had to be stopped. In an instant they -were off and away at a mad gallop over a much-used road. - -“By George!” roared the Colonel. “The horses have run away!” - -The soldiers shouted, the picket ran down to the road, too late, and -furious at this unwonted treatment the horses ran. A mile or more went -by before the heavy snowdrifts of a less-used road lessened their -speed. On a hillcrest Tom stood up and looked back. - -“Guess we are safe, boys,” he said. “It’s good there were no horses -about.” - -As the sleigh moved more slowly at a trot, Bill said, “It was a -first-class runaway!” and Harry, reassured, asked if it wasn’t time for -lunch. - -Tom said no, and kept his eye on the road, which by one o’clock became -hard for the horses, as the drifts were heavier. - -At last he pulled up for luncheon and to rest the team. As the twins -were now pretty cold Tom got out the fur coats. - -“There are only two,” said Harry. - -“Oh, I’ll fix that,” said Tom. And this was his way: he threw the heavy -sable coat over the boys’ shoulders, and while Harry put his right hand -into the right sleeve Bill put his left hand into the left sleeve. When -Tom had them buttoned up, the two red faces being close together in the -middle, he called them a double-headed bear and roared with laughter as -he himself put on the Colonel’s coat. - -“Won’t he say things!” said Bill, and they went on, but now only at a -walk. Harry did not like it, but, ashamed to confess his fears, kept -quiet. - -They met no one. The distant farms were hidden by the snow-laden -forests. The drifts became heavier. Now they were off the road and now -on. There were no marks of recent travel. It was Christmas; the farmers -at home. Both the twins had become silent, Tom more and more anxious -as he missed his well-known landmarks. At last a dead tree on the road -let him know that he was about six miles from the Forge. The horses had -come quite nine miles or more through tiring drifts. Now and then their -feet balled and Tom had to get down and beat out the packed snow. - -Finally the horses could do no more than walk. It was well on to four -o’clock, but at this he could only guess. He began to be troubled about -the twins and a little to regret having made his venture. If they came -to a stop with no house in sight, what could he do? To walk to the -camp would be even for him hard and for the twins impossible. Again -he stopped the horses for a rest, a formidable drift lying ahead and -filling the road. - -By this time Bill had lost much of the joy of mischievous adventure. -He began to think it was time for them to return home, and Harry had -asked over and over how soon they would go back. Tom at length ceased -to answer him as it drew toward evening. - -There was a new sharpness in the air, a warning to Tom of what night -would bring. He stood upon the seat and searched the white-clad land -for a house or the wood opening which might lead to one. He saw no sign -of habitation to which he could go in person for help. And how could he -leave his brothers? Even to turn homeward in the narrow road among the -drifts would have been, as he saw, quite out of the question. What else -was there but to go on? - -Even at this worst minute of his daring adventure the boy could have -cried at the thought of failure. He felt the map and Verney’s sketch -under his waistcoat, thought of his father, a prisoner, and then -cheering up the twins, used the whip on the weary horses, who plunged -into the great mound of snow. - -A trace snapped, the sleigh turned over on its side, the horses kicked, -broke loose, and fled away down the road and were soon lost to view. - -Tom got on his feet and looked for the twins. For a moment they were -out of sight. Then the huge drift began to shake and their four legs -were seen kicking above the snow, whence Tom pulled out the two-headed -bear. Bill laughed. Tom did not. Harry looked his alarm. - -All three working hard were able to right the sleigh after beating away -a part of the drift. After that they climbed in and ate what was left -of the food, but were not quite so merry as before, while Tom, made -savage by failure, would neither eat nor talk. - -At last he stood up on the seat. - -“Shut up, Gemini,” he said, “I hear something. Now,” he said, turning, -“mind you, if these I hear are British we were run away with. Hush!” He -heard in the sharp, frosty air the clink of sabres and soon the thud of -horses’ hoofs in the snow. - - -III - -A moment after the runaway boys had heard the sound of horses in the -snow, a dozen troopers of the Continental army were around them and a -young officer rode up, while Harry whimpered and said, “Now we’ll be -killed.” - -“Great George!” cried the officer, “but here’s a queer capture. Who the -deuce are you?” - -“I am Tom Markham, sir. My father is Colonel Markham, and these are my -brothers.” - -When Allan McLane saw the two-headed bear he rocked with laughter as he -sat in his saddle. - -“And how did you get here?” - -“We ran away with the horses of Colonel Grimstone and Captain Verney, -and, sir, this was why we ran away.” As he spoke he pulled out -Montresor’s map and the sketch. - -McLane opened the paper. “By George, it’s Montresor’s own map. How did -you get it?” - -“They left it in the sleigh while they went to look at something this -side of Chestnut Hill. Is it any use, sir?” added Tom anxiously. - -“Any use, man! If General Washington doesn’t make you a Colonel for -this there is no use in man or boy trying to serve an ungrateful -country.” - -Then the twins, feeling neglected, said, “We helped, too.” - -“I licked the horses,” cried Bill - -“Aren’t you cold, boys?” - -“Yes, sir, but we never told Tom.” - -“By George, but you are a plucky lad. Take this two-headed animal, -Sergeant. Mount one of them, coat and all, in front of you, and be -quick, or we shall have them frozen.” - -“The other may have my coat,” said Tom. - -“Good,” said the Captain. “You shall wear my own cloak, my lad.” - -Seeing Harry’s look of fright and the ready tears, he said: “It’s all -right, youngsters. Don’t you be afraid. We are all your friends and I -know your father well.” - -Turning to Tom, he said: “This way, my lad. Now, then, give him a knee, -Sergeant; so, a foot in my stirrup and up you go behind me. Now, then, -right about by twos, march.” - -He went off at a sharp trot with Tom’s arms around his waist. - -“Hold on to the belt,” he said. - -“May I some day have a boy like you! I enlist you in my troop. You are -one of Allan McLane’s rangers. Hold hard. The road is better. I am -going to gallop.” - -If ever there was a proud boy it was Tom Markham, for who did not know -Allan McLane, the terror of outlying pickets, the hero of a dozen -gallant adventures? - -“How are you, Gemini?” cried Tom, looking back. - -“Oh, we’re fine!” roared Bill, his teeth chattering with cold. - -At the river they were stopped a minute. McLane gave the password, -“Washington,” and at dusk they tramped over the bridge and were at once -among General Varney’s brigades. - -Bill had ceased to ask questions. Harry, again uneasy at the sight of -soldiers, wept unseen, and even Tom felt a certain awe at thus facing -the unknown. He was more at ease as he saw hundreds of ill-clad men -making merry in a wild snowball fight, shouting and laughing. - -They rode in the gloom through dimly seen rows of log huts, and at one -of them McLane dismounted. - -“Take your men in,” he said to a lieutenant. “Report at headquarters -and say I shall be there in an hour.” He lifted the twins from their -perches and bade the three enter his hut. “This is my home, boys. Come -in.” - -It was a tiny log cabin with a stone-built chimney and a big fire; -wood alone was to be had--in plenty. The twins felt better after he -gave them in turn a teaspoonful or two of whiskey in water, laughed at -their wry faces as they drank, set Harry on his knee, patted him on the -back, and bade them make free of his stale biscuit and the potatoes he -roasted in the hot ashes. - -The twins, as they got warm in this pleasant company, talked of their -adventures. Tom sat in silence. - -“What’s the matter?” asked McLane, getting only “Yes” and “no” to his -queries. - -“I am thinking, sir, of my mother. Oh, but she will be troubled. I -never thought of that when----” - -“Be easy, my lad. To-morrow I am going into the city. I shall see her. -When you can get back, I do not know, but you will see the camp and the -troops and get your share of a trooper’s fare. When you are warm I want -you to come with me, Tom.” - -“Yes, sir. I am ready now.” - -With a word to the twins he followed the Captain through the darkness. - -The men were huddled around campfires and were cooking their scanty -rations of pork and potatoes. Presently McLane paused at the door of a -small stone house, the only one in the lines. A sentry walked to and -fro before it. - -McLane went in and said to an officer: “Mr. Tilghman, ask the General -to see me. It is important.” - -In a few minutes the officer returned. “This way,” he said. - -Tom saw seated before the fire a large man in buff-and-blue uniform. He -rose, saying, “What news have you, Captain?” - -“This lad, sir, brought from the town at some peril this map and -sketch. It seems to be some one’s notion of an attack.” - -The tall officer put the sketch aside, but as he considered the map he -said, looking up: “This is Major Montresor’s own map and is invaluable. -What is your name, my boy?” - -“I’m a son of Colonel Markham, sir.” - -“A most gallant officer. And how, my lad, did you happen to get this -map?” - -Tom was a little disturbed by this authoritative gentleman. Being a -boy, he had, of course, been left standing, while McLane and the tall -man were seated. He understood that he must stand until requested to -sit, but it did add a little to a certain embarrassment, rare for Tom. - -“Tell your story, Tom,” said McLane. - -“Well, sir, the horses ran away, and the map was in the sleigh.” Tom -stopped. Action, not speech, was his gift, then and later. - -“It is not very clear, but the lad is tired.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Tom, without the least boy desire to describe what was -a bold and dangerous adventure. - -“Never mind your story now. Captain McLane will tell me later. You are -a brave lad, and if God had given me one like you I should have been -glad.” - -Tom felt somehow that he was well rewarded. - -“But,” added the tall man, setting kind, blue eyes on the lad, “this -will make a great stir, and you will, I fear, suffer for it when you -reach home.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Tom. “And the twins?” - -“Twins? What’s this, McLane?” - -“There were three in the business,” said the Captain. - -“Indeed. I wish there were as much spirit in the army.” - -“After all, sir,” said McLane, “what can they do to a mere boy whose -horses ran away?” - -“But how are they to get to the city?” - -“I will see to that, sir, and let Mrs. Markham know.” - -“Yes, yes, quite right. Now I must be excused.” He rose and shook hands -with Tom, and bowed to the officer. - -“Come, Tom,” said McLane. - -Tom made his best bow and they went out into the cold December night. -Then Tom asked: “Who was that general?” - -“Good gracious, my boy, I thought you knew. That was General -Washington. He might have thanked you more. But that’s his way.” - -“I think he said enough, sir.” - -McLane looked at the young face, now elate and smiling and then quiet -in thought. - -The Lieutenant was waiting in the hut when Tom and the Captain returned. - -McLane said: “I shall be away for a day or more. Their mother must hear -news of these lads. I leave them in your care, Lieutenant.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -The Captain said good-bye and was gone for two days. - -Meanwhile the story was told by the troopers and soon repeated at the -campfires, where the men amused themselves mightily with the twins and -their narratives. - -Tom held his tongue, and wandering saw the earthworks, and the ragged -soldiers making shoes out of old blankets and plaited straw, or cooking -frozen potatoes and decayed pickled herring, and growling over their -diet. - -He saw the army wagons come in with wood, the worn-out traces replaced -by grapevines. He saw men on guard relieved every hour for fear of -frozen feet, which were shoeless, and more than once a sentry standing -on his hat for relief, with feet double wrapped in bits of blanket. He -ate of horse beef at their fires or rode proudly at the head of McLane -troops down the hill and into the lines of General Greene’s brigades. - -The twins, too, kept him busy. They climbed with him the slope of Mount -Misery and saw the bridge over the Schuylkill, and on the posts which -supported it burned in the names of favorite generals--Washington, -Putnam, Greene, and Lafayette. Once Harry, in delicious fear, was -allowed to touch off the evening gun. - -At dusk on December twenty-eighth the lads found McLane again in his -hut. - -“Hurrah, boys,” he cried, “I have a bag of flour, four sausages, and an -aged hen. Let’s make slapjacks. After we have fed I have a story.” - -They had been better fed than their soldier hosts, for, if it was not -much at a time, there was something to be had at every hut or campfire, -and by this accumulation of forage they kept themselves fairly -supplied. But sausage and slapjacks and fried chicken! The boys had -their fill for the first time since they left home. Then they lay on -the floor before the fire. The twins looked expectant. - -“You promised us a story,” said Bill, “when you came back.” - -“I shall be as good as my word.” - -“I don’t want it to begin with ‘Once on a time,’” said Harry, now quite -at home. “They always begin that way. The Count told us a story on -Christmas Eve about an angel and it turned out that it wasn’t a real -one after all.” - -“That was terrible,” said the Captain. “My story is true. Now and then -I go into Philadelphia to see the troops and where they are.” - -“But isn’t that dangerous?” asked Tom, who knew well what was the fate -of a spy. - -“Well, rather. I should be hanged if I were caught, but you see they -don’t catch me. Two days ago I rode with a trooper to a deserted barn, -and there I put on a Quaker bonnet, and old woman’s clothes and shoes -and horn spectacles and with a crutch and a basket of eggs I got of -a farmer, I walked down Lancaster Pike and hobbled over the floating -bridge. - -“Any one with provisions can get in and have a pass to get out and I -have been in town several times and am pretty well known as Mrs. Price. -I sold my eggs, some of them to Sir William Howe’s cook. Then I went to -your house.” - -“Oh, and you saw mother?” cried Harry. - -“Shut up,” said Bill; “I want to hear.” - -“When I came to your house, I went to the back gate and was let in by a -black cook----” - -“That’s Nancy,” said Bill. - -“I said I had eggs for sale. Then she took me to the hall and I sat -down. There I saw that red-nosed Colonel come in. I was knitting a -stocking and was pretty busy, with my spectacles on. Your mother asked -the price of my eggs and where I lived. When the Colonel heard I lived -near Valley Forge and had had a lift on a farmer’s cart to get to town, -he asked about the troops here. I told him some fine yarns, and with -this he went away. I should like to catch him and swap him off for your -father.” - -“Did you see Captain Verney?” asked Tom. - -“Yes. I am a bit afraid of him. When he came through the hall I had to -turn my back because my garter was coming down. - -“Your mother and I bargained for my eggs and at last the maid took -them. Then I whispered, ‘Could I see thee alone?’ She said ‘Yes’ and -took me into the parlor. - -“I said: ‘Mrs. Markham, thou hast no need to be troubled. The boys are -safe at Valley Forge. The horses ran away.’ - -“When I said this she cried, and just sat down and said: ‘I have been -so distressed, but--I knew--Tom--was to be trusted.’” - -“Oh!” exclaimed Tom, “did my mother say that?” - -“Yes, she said that. I think the less you fellows say at home of the -runaway the better for you and your friend, Captain Verney. You see, -the lost map will make a heap of trouble for him--and for you, too, if -you are not careful. - -“Then your mother began to ask questions, but I said I was in a hurry, -and that on New Year’s Eve she must get a pass for a chaise and man to -meet you on the west side of the middle ferry about nine at night. I -said, too, ‘Thy boys may have difficulty about a map. Best to see them -alone before Brimstone can question them. It was very foolish for them -to run away with that map.’ - -“When I spoke of the map she laughed and said: ‘Was that why the horses -ran away? Oh, Tom, Tom!’ - -“Then I said: ‘They can’t do anything to your boys.’ - -“‘No, but Mr. Verney and the Colonel were much blamed and are very -cross. However, that night I can see the boys alone. The officers--I -mean the Colonel and Captain Verney--are to take supper with Mr. Penn -at his house over the river.’ - -“I asked if it was the place in the woods above the Schuylkill, the -place he calls The Solitude. I wanted to be sure. Your mother said: -‘Yes. It is there, I believe.’ It set me to thinking. - -“Of a sudden she turned on me and said: ‘You are no Quaker.’ - -“I laughed and said: ‘No, madam, I am Captain Allan McLane, at your -service.’ - -“This did scare her for the risk I ran, but I said there was none. She -sent you her love. That’s all my story. We found the horses, Tom. I -shall take one and my Lieutenant the other.” - -“I don’t like that,” said Tom. - -“Spoils of war, sir; and now get to bed.” - -“And the fur coats?” asked Tom, anxiously honest. - -“We shall return the Count’s. I shall keep the Colonel’s. Now to bed, -boys.” - -“Thank you, sir,” said Tom. - -“That was a fine story,” said Bill. “I like real true stories.” - -“And it ends just right,” said Harry. - -“Oh, that is not the end,” laughed McLane. - -Then the boys were curious and questioned their friend, but he would -tell them no more. - -“To bed,” he cried, and rolled them up in blankets on the cabin floor. - - -IV - -The days went by, and on the afternoon of December thirtieth the boys -rode out of camp, the twins well wrapped up in front of troopers and -Tom mounted on a troop-horse. The day was pleasant and warm for the -season, and McLane pushed on at speed down the west side of the river. - -It was a long and hard ride and the twins were tired when, nine miles -from the city, at a friendly farmer’s, pickets were put out and they -spent the night and were well fed. - -They stayed all of that day at the farm, and at seven on New Year’s -Eve the Sergeant went back to camp, leaving but six men. Presently, to -Tom’s amazement, McLane came out of the barn with his Lieutenant, both -dressed as British officers and the men as King’s soldiers. Then they -mounted as before and rode slowly toward town. Tom, very curious, asked -questions. McLane laughed: “Only a little fancy ball, Tom, and don’t -talk. I want to think. Later I hope to send you a dispatch.” Tom was -puzzled, but rode on in silence. - -About nine at night they were just outside of the English pickets, not -far from the Schuylkill. Here they rode into a wood and dismounted. -Then McLane on foot led the boys down the Lancaster Road. - -“Yonder,” he said, “is a guard. As it is very dark you may get by -unseen. If not, you must say you are boys from town and have lost your -way. Not a word of me. Be careful. At the middle ferry bridge you will -find a chaise and your man-servant. Now be silent and careful and -good-bye, Colonel Markham.” - -Full of the boy delight in an adventure so real, Tom went on in the -darkness with the twins. He saw against the sky a guard on a little -hillock above the road. A thicket of briers lined the wayside. - -Tom halted and whispered: “We have got to creep, Gemini, and play -bears. No noise, and go slow.” - -With this the three went down on their hands and knees in the snow, -and, Tom leading, crept by the sentry on the bank, who was stamping and -beating his breast to keep warm. - -“Now,” said Tom, “for a run to get warmed up”; and, unseen, they ran -through the darkness on the well-trodden snow of the mid-pike. - -They soon found the chaise and their servant. He had a pass so that -they easily went by the guard and after a short drive were at home and -in their mother’s arms. - -When the boys left him, McLane, a little anxious, looked after them for -a time and returned to his men. They tied their horses in the wood -and, leaving a man to care for them, one by one crawled through the -thin line of pickets, who were much occupied in keeping themselves warm. - -It was very dark, and again the snow was falling and a fierce wind -blowing. At last the men came together at a low whistle from McLane. - -They were now close to the house where, in the wood above the -Schuylkill, Mr. Penn was pleased to entertain his friends. It was a -quaint little house and still stands to-day in the Zoological Gardens. -There is a small entrance hall, a winding stair, and on the left a -descent to a long underground passage ending in two large, cool-storage -rooms. One large chamber on the first floor looks eastward over the -river. - -McLane knew it all well. It was now long after nine and very dark. The -partisan officer was safe between the pickets he had passed and those -along the west shore far below the house. - -Leaving his men near the door he went around the house. Then, -approaching a window, he cautiously looked into the room. A dozen -candles were on the table, and many more in sconces on the wall. - -At the table sat Mr. Galloway, the British superintendent of police, a -staunch Tory, Mr. Penn, Colonel Grimstone, and Captain Verney. There -were several empty chairs. Supper was over. There were empty bottles on -the table and a big bowl of punch. - -The Colonel had removed his stiff regulation stock. Galloway had -unbuttoned his embroidered waistcoat. Verney was looking at his watch. - -“A nice party,” said McLane. “Will it incline to be hospitable?” - -Then he returned to the front. - -The Lieutenant said: “Their horses are in the stable, the grooms asleep -beside a fireplace.” - -A man was put at each window, two left at the door, and, it being -now near to ten, McLane quietly entered the hall, and then, with his -Lieutenant, appeared in the supper-room. Mr. Penn arose. - -“Good-evening, sir,” said McLane. “Lieutenant Hand and I have had a -long ride, and seeing your lights took the liberty----” - -“Oh, most welcome--as are all gentleman of His Majesty’s service. Sit -down, sir. Colonel Grimstone, you may know these officers.” - -“Never saw them in all my life,” said the Colonel gruffly. - -Captain Verney rose and bowed. - -“I beg pardon,” he said, “I did not catch your name.” - -“Captain Head, at your service.” - -“That’s queer,” said Grimstone; “Head and Hand.” - -“Sit down,” said the host. “Oh, by George, the servants have gone -and--Verney, you are the youngest and you know the way, would you fetch -some wine for us from the cellar?” - -McLane said a word to his Lieutenant, who rose, apologizing. “I want -to see to the horses. Be back in a moment.” - -In the hall he saw Verney take a lantern and go down to the cellar. The -Lieutenant waited a moment, shot bolt and lock behind the Captain, and, -returning, sat down by Galloway. - -“Pray throw off your cloaks, gentlemen,” said Penn. “Will you drink, -Captain Head?” - -McLane cast his cloak back from his left shoulder and set a hand on his -pistols. - -“I never drink while on duty, Mr. Penn. You must hold me excused.” - -“As you please, sir,” answered Penn. - -“What’s your regiment?” inquired Grimstone in a thick voice. - -“McLane’s Horse! And if a man moves there will be two dead.” For a -pistol was at the forehead of both the Colonel and Galloway. - -They were startled, but had wit enough to understand a very unpleasant -situation. - -“Don’t do that!” cried Grimstone. Galloway sat as still and as pale as -a statue. - -“I am sorry, Mr. Penn, to disturb you,” said McLane; “but as I have -neither eaten of your salt nor drunk at your board, you will pardon me. -Neither do I want you or Mr. Galloway,” he continued, “if you will say, -on your honor, that you will not leave this room nor give the alarm for -half an hour.” - -Penn said: “Needs must. You know the proverb, Captain McLane.” - -Galloway said: “Oh, I swear.” - -“Kindly put your watch on the table, Mr. Penn. Ten, I see. Captain -Verney is locked in the cellar. My regards to him. Come, Colonel, and -on the honor of a gentleman if you speak or resist I shall kill you. -Good-night, Mr. Penn.” - -The Colonel rose with his captor and went out. - -“Sergeant, put this gentleman between two men and call in the rest. If -he ventures to give the alarm shoot him.” - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Good Heavens!” said Penn to Galloway. “A nice ending for a supper. -That fellow missed Sir William Howe by only ten minutes.” - -“Hark! What was that?” said Galloway. Distant shots rang sharp through -the cold night air. - -“They have had trouble with the pickets.” - -“Hope they caught them,” said Galloway. - -Penn returned: “He is one of the kind that catches and is never -caught.” Then, as the noise of a great thumping and pounding fell on -his ears, he added: “Just listen to Verney!” And he fell back in his -chair, convulsed with laughter. “No, don’t move, Galloway. It wants -fourteen minutes of the half-hour. Sir William was in luck.” - -A little later the amazed and disgusted Verney heard the story. “He -did not want me, I suppose.” He knew later that, because of being a -gentleman and courteously kind to Tom’s mother, McLane was pleased to -forget him. - -The Colonel failed to appear at home that night. Verney was late in -returning, and only at breakfast did Mrs. Markham and the boys, to -their relief, and greatly to Tom’s delight, learn of the capture of -their unmannerly guest. - -Then the Captain, still a little cross, turned on Tom. - -“Now, sir,” he asked, “did you run away with the sleigh or the sleigh -with you?” - -The Count, much amused, listened. - -Tom was cornered. Very red in the face, he replied: “The horses ran -away with both, sir.” - -“I may assure Sir William that the horses ran away?” - -Tom felt that he was well within the boundary of truth as he said, -“Yes. They ran like everything. We upset, and Captain McLane found us -and took us to Valley Forge.” - -“And what, sir, became of the map we left in the sleigh?” - -Tom wriggled. - -“I want an answer.” - -“General Washington has it.” - -“Did you give it to him?” - -“No, sir. Captain McLane gave it to him.” - -“I think,” remarked the Count, “that you had better stop here.” - -That was also Tom’s opinion. - -“The map was in the coat-pocket, I remember.” - -“Yes, sir. I was to tell Count Einstein, with Captain McLane’s -compliments, that his coat is at Farmer Nixon’s, near the Cross Keys -Tavern. He said you could easily get it.” - -The Count expressed his pleasure, and Verney asked no further questions. - -A few days later, just before supper, Tom burst into the room with the -twins after him. - -“He’s got a letter!” cried Bill. - -“He won’t let us see it!” cried Harry. - -They fell on Tom and rolled in wild laughter on the floor. - -“This is too much,” said Mrs. Markham. - -Verney rose, and with two or three mild kicks separated the fighting, -laughing tangle of legs and arms. - -Then he caught the elder boy by the collar and said: “Stand up on your -hind legs, Tom, and tell me what this row is about.” - -“He’s got a letter,” said Bill, “a Quaker man, a farmer, left it; and -he won’t let us see it till mother reads it.” - -“Where is it?” said Verney. - -“Here, sir. You’re choking me. You may read it. There’s a message for -you.” - -Captain Verney looked at the address and read, laughing, “This with -haste.” - -“With your permission, madam,” he said; then he read aloud: - -“Valley Forge, January 7, 1778. - -“To Colonel Thomas Markham, Jr., late of Captain Allan McLane’s -Company, Continental Line----” - -“That’s me!” said Tom. - -“Indeed!” He turned to the contents. - - DEAR COLONEL: I beg to report that after leaving you on the road with - Gemini I had the pleasure of Capturing Colonel Gravestone, now here - on parole and a low diet. He says his name is Grimstone, but what can - be grimmer than Gravestone, and grim he is and grave. We shall swap - him off for Colonel Markham. - - My compliments to Captain the Honorable John Verney. Having been a - kind and courteous guest I forgot him. It was against the rules of - the service, but I trust, sir, you will not have me court-martialed. - The map found in the coat proves useful. My thanks to Major Montresor. - - Remember me to your mother. - - I have the honor to be your very obedient humble servant and - brother-officer. - - ALLAN McLANE. - - Postscript--I promised you an ending to my story, and here it is. - -“Well, of all the impertinent things!” cried Verney; “but, my dear -Count, I should like to see ‘Gravestone’ among these gentlemen, and, on -my word, I should like to meet this brave and merry officer.” - -The Colonel spent two months and more on parole at Valley Forge. He -lost four stone and became meek. - -In the spring he was exchanged for a better man, Colonel Markham, but -no amount of food, as he swore, ever enabled him to make up for the -scant fare he had had in the camp of the Continentals. - -The twins and Tom lived to enjoy many Christmas Days, but none like -that they spent with the army at Valley Forge in the hard winter of -1777-8. - - - - -A TEMPEST IN A BIG TEA-POT[N] - -By SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE - - About the Boston Tea-party and the Indians who brewed the tea. - - -Chance has led us to the spot on which the house of Governor Winthrop -stands. But by the side of it, in a crowded neighborhood, is a brick -church with a fine and lofty steeple pricking the frosty air of a -December afternoon. There is a dense crowd of men, with a sprinkling of -women, arguing and gesticulating about the door, but the interior is so -choked up with people that we can scarcely elbow our way in. The men’s -faces, we notice, are flushed and excited, and here is an angry buzz -of half-suppressed voices. Evidently something out of the common has -brought these people here. What can it be? - -Ah! they are all talking about tea. - -“You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink,” one says, -very significantly, to his neighbor. - -“Aye, and they can send us tea but can’t make us drink,” responds his -neighbor. - -“Let them take it back to England, then, and peddle it out there,” -ejaculates a third. “We will not have it forced down our throats,” he -adds. - -“What sort of a drink would tea and salt water make?” suggests a man -who is evidently losing patience; for it has grown dark, and the lamps -shed a dim light throughout the unquiet crowd. - -“Good for John Rowe!” shout the bystanders approvingly, and as his -words pass from mouth to mouth, the people laugh and clap. - -Presently a man of middle age speaks. At his first words every voice -is hushed. Every eye is turned upon him. In a grave and steady voice -he tells the people that their purpose to send the tea-ships home to -England, with their cargoes untouched, has been thwarted by Governor -Hutchinson, who refuses to give the vessels the pass, without which -they cannot sail. “And now,” concludes this same grave and earnest -voice, to which all eagerly listen, “_this meeting_ can do nothing more -to save the country.” - -There is a moment’s silence--a moment of keen disappointment, an -ominous silence. - -Then some one in the gallery cries out, in a ringing voice, “Boston -Harbor a tea-pot to-night! Hurrah for Griffin’s Wharf!” - -Instantly, before the people are aware what is intended, an Indian -war-whoop pierces the air; and, starting at the signal, no one seems -to know whence or how, half a hundred men, having their faces smeared -with soot, and disguised as Indian warriors, brandishing hatchets and -shouting as they run, pour through Milk Street, followed by the crowd, -turn down to Griffin’s Wharf, where the tea-ships lie, clamber on -board, take off the hatches in a hurry, and while some pass up the -chests from the hold others smash and pitch them overboard. Crash go -the hatchets, splash goes the tea. Splash! splash! Every one works for -dear life, earnest and determined. - -Never were ships more quickly unloaded. The frightened captains and -crews were told to go below and stay there if they would not be harmed. -They obeyed. No one but the fishes drank that tea. - -After finishing their work the lads who had been making a tea-pot of -Boston Harbor marched gaily back to town to the music of a fife. While -on their way they passed by the residence of Mad Montagu, the British -admiral who commanded all the fleet of war-ships then lying at anchor -within gunshot of the town. The admiral threw up his window, thrust out -his head, and halloed: - -“Well, boys, you have had a fine, pleasant evening for your Indian -caper, haven’t you? But mind, you’ve got to pay the fiddler yet!” - -“Oh, never mind, Squire!” shouted Pitts, the leader. “Just come out -here, if you please, and we’ll settle the bill in two minutes.” - -The admiral shut his window in a hurry, and the tea-party, with a laugh -for the admiral, marched on. He was fond of a fight, but thought it -best to decline this invitation. - - - - -HOW THE WARNING WAS GIVEN[O] - -By MABEL NELSON THURSTON - - In this story an old-fashioned “courting-stick” in the hands of a - quick-witted girl is the means of saving patriot lives and ammunition. - - -The time was the year of Lexington and Concord, and the place, a little -village not many miles away. Already men’s faces were stern and women’s -eyes dim with sorrow; only the little children played on and knew no -difference. - -Dolly Pearson scorned the name of child, yet the thought of war brought -to her only a sense of exhilaration. She had no father or brother to -lose; but neither had Elizabeth who had not smiled these three months. -Why? John Thurlow had said no word of enlisting. A shame it was, -too--thought Dolly--and he a strong man with naught to bind him! - -“Betty,” said Dolly, who was helping her sister to tidy the best room, -“why does not John enlist? There, ’tis said now--I just had to! I’ve -been waiting and waiting because I feared to hurt you by the question!” - -Elizabeth turned her quiet face to the saucy one, and smiled a little -sadly down at the girl. “John will go soon,” she said. “He is but -tarrying till the time be ripe.” - -“Well, right glad am I to know it!” cried Dolly. “I always liked -John Thurlow, but had he been a coward----” She stopped, amazed at -Elizabeth’s look. - -“Never name coward and John Thurlow in the same breath again!” she -said, vehemently, with wrathful face. - -Dolly ran over to her sister repentantly. “Betty, I meant nothing. I -could not understand his tarrying, that was all. It is because he is -going that you have looked so sober lately.” - -“Yes,” said Elizabeth, burying her face in her blue apron. Dolly -stared. She never cried herself, and never had she seen her sister cry, -save when their father died. Something of the solemn feeling she had -then had now silenced her, and she stood smoothing Elizabeth’s hand -until the girl looked up. - -“There, Dolly, get to work,” she said, “and be glad you are not old -enough to understand.” - -Dolly went pouting to her work--at fourteen she didn’t like being -thought young! Presently something diverted her thoughts. It was a -hollow rod, eight feet long and an inch in diameter, with a queer -mouth and ear-piece at each end--an old-time courting-stick that had -belonged to her grandmother. Dolly held it across to Elizabeth, her -face dimpling with mischief. - -“Try it, Betty!” she pleaded. “I want to see if it sounds as well as -ever.” - -Elizabeth held it to her ear, while Dolly’s saucy lips touched the -other end. “Betty,” she whispered, “are you not glad that you and John -don’t have to use this stick?” Elizabeth dropped it impatiently. - -“You heard,” Dolly said innocently. “That was what I desired to know. -But you might have said something to me!” - -When Elizabeth’s color came and went, as now, there was no girl -like her in the village. Indeed, at all times she was prettiest, -thought loyal Dolly, studying her next day, as they all walked to -meeting--Elizabeth in a sprigged muslin and a bonnet with rose-colored -ribbons. How beautiful she looked as she went to the singers’ seats! -John Thurlow sat there, too. - -By turning a little in the pew, Dolly could see the singers’ seats, and -half the congregation as well. So of course she saw Eunice Winter come -in, and with her a strange young man, who soon perceived the pretty -face under the rose-colored ribbons, and glanced at it frequently. - -Sometimes Dolly changed her position and studied the queer old pulpit, -with its winding stairs and the roofing overhead. There was a loft in -the roof, and squirrels and birds came in there. Suddenly Dolly gave a -start, and a look of delight shone in her eyes. After that she heard -not even the Parson’s “Finally,” and only came to herself when the -people rose to depart. Then she pulled her sister’s dress. - -“Betty, do hasten!” she pleaded. “I have something to tell you.” - -Elizabeth glanced down at the excited face. - -“What is it, Dolly?” she asked, anxiety sharpening her quiet voice. - -“Come,” urged Dolly, “away from the others! I _must_ tell you!” - -Elizabeth followed her sister to a corner of the meeting-house yard, -where they were alone. - -“What is it, Dolly?” Betty asked again, shaken out of her usual calm. - -Dolly leaned forward. “Tell John Thurlow I know where his muskets are,” -she said, “and if they be not careful, others will know it, too!” - -Elizabeth caught the girl’s hand tightly. - -“How knew you that, Dolly?” she asked, a great fear choking her. Dolly -could be trusted, but many Royalists in the neighborhood were seeking -just this knowledge! - -“Oh,” said Dolly, delighted at the importance of her discovery, “I saw -something gleaming through a crack in the roofing. I thought at first -’twas the sunlight, but presently I noted some dust in the pew. I put -my hand down and picked some up and tasted it, and although I be ‘so -young,’ I know powder. Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have died sooner -than betray it!” Her eyes were flashing through tears. - -“I know it, little sister,” said Elizabeth. “I would trust you as soon -as myself. But do you not see it would be foolish to take more than -were necessary into the secret?” - -“Ye-es,” admitted Dolly reluctantly, and then with the old mischievous -smile, she added: “Betty, was it necessary for you to know it?” - -“You have a sadly undisciplined tongue, Dolly,” said Betty, coloring. - -“But you do not fear to trust me,” said Dolly as they walked slowly -back across the yard. Then the undisciplined tongue reasserted itself. - -“Did you note the fine gallant Eunice Winter had to-day?” she asked. - -“I saw there was a stranger.” - -“He scarce took his eyes from a bonnet with rose-colored ribbons. And -he is much finer-seeming than John Thurlow, Betty!” - -“Now, Dolly, you’re going too far,” said Elizabeth sternly. “What would -mother say? It is downright wicked to have such thoughts in the house -of God.” - -“Don’t get cross,” pleaded Dolly coaxingly. “I paid heed to the parson, -and I can tell you the text. And for the other matter, time will show -if I be wrong,” and with a saucy nod she broke away and joined her -mother. - -Time did show. Whatever might be the fault of Mistress Dolly’s tongue, -her eyes were seldom mistaken. Before a week was over the strange -gentleman had met Elizabeth and he soon fell into the habit of calling -almost daily. His name was Henry Robbins, and he was Eunice Winter’s -cousin, visiting there for a month, he said. - -All Dolly’s admiration for him vanished on the day she suspected he was -a Royalist. He had never avowed it, but the girl detected a look in his -eyes when she spoke of Lexington that brought her to her feet in great -excitement. - -“I believe you’re a Royalist!” she exclaimed, with flashing eyes. “If -not, why are you tarrying here when the need is so sore? I think a man -who tarries unconcerned is a coward!” - -“Dolly!” remonstrated Elizabeth. - -“I do,” answered Dolly angrily. “And I hate cowards! You can excuse me -if you will, Betty, but I would say it all over again to the king’s -face!” and she ran out of the room. - -The young man looked a little disturbed. - -“I pray you overlook the child’s quick tongue,” Elizabeth said. “She is -an eager little rebel, and loses control of herself.” - -“Oh, I am not troubled by a child’s idle talk,” he said. “I admire her -spirit. Yet I feel I scarce deserve the lash of her words.” - -“I judge no man who follows his conscience. God will direct the right,” -said Elizabeth gently. - -With that he had to be content. Yet as he walked down the road he -switched impatiently at the daisies beside it, and felt ill-satisfied -with the part he was playing. To live among these people solely to -discover their preparations for war revolted him, and he did so only at -the positive order of his general. - -But as days went on, he began to despair. No slightest clue could he -get of the whereabouts of the stores he knew were being collected. Then -one day, as he was about to return to Boston, a scrap of paper was -slipped into his hand by a boy, who immediately scampered away. Captain -Robbins was standing with a group of men at the tavern waiting for the -mail-coach, and he carelessly untwisted and read the note: - - Search the loft of the meeting-house. A servant of his majesty. - -A quick glow came into the young man’s face. John Thurlow was standing -near and looked at him a little curiously. “Good news, judging from -your face,” said John. - -“Aye, the best,” the Royalist said slowly. And never did John Thurlow -forget the curious tone and look of the Tory. - -It was no difficult matter to examine the loft, which was found -nearly full of arms and powder. But Robbins did not choose to seize -the munitions; he hoped to convict Thurlow, at least, if none of the -others. He set spies on the church, meaning to capture any of the -king’s enemies who might attempt to take away arms. - -Then another note came to him: - - On Monday next there will be a midnight meeting in the loft. It might - interest the captain to attend. - -It was Saturday afternoon then. One of the Royalists happened to be -passing the house; the captain called him, and the two young men swung -into step down the road to the meeting-house. Dolly Pearson stood -watching the two as they walked quickly away; then some suspicion came -to her from their gestures. She tried to dismiss it as foolish, but -tried in vain. - -Suddenly she started off on a run across the fields. When she reached -the meeting-house her breath was coming in heavy gasps. The building -was open for one of its rare sweepings, but no one was in sight just -then. The girl ran in and up the winding stairs and crouched down -behind the pulpit, and lay there listening and trying to still the -noisy beating of her heart. - -It seemed ages that she crouched there; perhaps she had been -mistaken--they might not have been coming here--then she started at the -sound of voices. She dared not peer out. She held herself rigid and -listened--listened for the life of John Thurlow whom Elizabeth loved. - -“Forty muskets and seven kegs of powder,” said one voice. - -“Aye, and Thurlow and his recruits to take all on Monday night?” - -“Hist!” said the captain, looking round uneasily. “Walls have ears. -Monday at midnight you will have a strong band ready. We will surround -the meeting-house, and then----” - -“Down with the rebels! And the pay, captain?” - -“Trust His Majesty for that. You can have my own share, too. Success is -enough for me.” - -“That and a fair field to Betty Pearson’s favor,” laughed the other. -“You are not the only one that would like to see John Thurlow out of -the way!” - -“Then shall I earn their gratitude,” answered Robbins. - -Dolly was trembling, and it did not seem as if she could control -herself much longer; but soon they went away. Then she had to rest long -in one of the pews to quiet her nerves. - -“What ails you, Dolly?” her mother exclaimed, when she saw her. “You -look too ill to stand! You ought to go straight to bed while I brew -some herbs for you.” - -“Oh, mother, I can’t go to bed,” said Dolly. “I must see John!” - -“Would I were John!” said a mocking voice. - -Dolly’s heart sank within her. She had not noticed the captain as she -entered. With an effort she summoned one of her saucy smiles. - -“Good-even, Mr. Robbins--this is an unexpected pleasure! You have not -been here for so long--why, not since yesterday!” - -“Come and entertain me, since I please you so much,” laughed the -captain. - -“No,” said Dolly, “it would not be proper to show it. I prefer to talk -to Betty.” - -“And I prefer you should talk to me,” said the captain, and there was -a note in his voice that startled Dolly. She imagined that she was -suspected. The color had come back to her face now, and her eyes were -blazing. Somehow--how, she had not the least idea--she must warn John -to-night. To-morrow would be too late, for the captain was on his guard. - -She leaned back in a corner of the big settle, with a saucy laugh -answered his teasing, and gradually regained control of herself. Yet -all her will could not keep the color from flying to her face when she -heard John’s step. She bent down and played with the kitten at her feet. - -“Miss Dolly was desiring your presence, Mr. Thurlow,” said the captain. - -“Oh,” said Dolly carelessly, “never mind, John. That was an hour ago.” - -Thurlow smiled good-humoredly at her, knowing her to be whimsical. She -sat wondering how she could get the message to him. Write it? Even -could she do so unobserved she would have no opportunity to give it to -him; of that she was certain. Equally sure was she that she would not -be allowed to leave the room alone. - -Suddenly a thought came to her and filled her with glee. “Oh, Mr. -Robbins!” she cried. “Have you ever seen our courting-stick?” - -“Courting-stick? What might that be?” - -“I’ll show you,” she answered, starting up. “’Tis in the best room.” - -“Nay, let me get it for you,” he said, rising. - -“How can you, if you know it not when you see it?” she retorted. “But -you may come, too.” She felt a wicked delight in hearing the captain’s -muttered exclamations as he followed her into the dim best room, -stumbling over table and chairs on the way. - -“Did you hurt yourself, Mr. Robbins?” she exclaimed, in a tone of -commiseration. “Trouble yourself no more; I have the rod. Here, John,” -she added, when they had returned, “take the other end while I show Mr. -Robbins how our grandfathers courted.” - -John took the rod and Dolly put her lips to her own end. “John,” she -whispered, “betray no surprise for your life! Mr. Robbins knows about -the meeting-house loft, and is to lead a band of men to take you Monday -night. Pretend you cannot hear this well.” - -John looked up in apparent perplexity. “The old rod is out of use,” he -said. “Speak louder, Dolly.” - -The captain, with a suspicious look, pressed nearer. - -“John,” she called, “are you sorry courting-sticks are out of fashion?” - -“A chilly custom, truly,” said the captain. “Don’t you think, Miss -Dolly, it was rather hard on the happy pair?” - -“Why, no,” said Dolly. “Take the other end, Mr. Robbins, and see the -convenience of it.” - -The captain took John’s place, but he could not catch the faint whisper. - -“I could not hear the words,” he said. - -“Oh, I’ll try again,” said Dolly obligingly. - -This time the captain turned away with an amused laugh. “Cool heart -that could carry on love-making at such a length,” he said. “It is a -rare curiosity, though. Shall I carry it back, Miss Dolly?” - -“It needs not to be put away now,” Elizabeth said, and Dolly had to -give up the pleasure of making the captain stumble again in the dark. - -As the clock struck nine John rose, and the captain with him. Dolly -laughed as away through the darkness strode the two men whose fortunes -had changed strangely since they trod the same road a couple of hours -before. - -Three hours later a strange party in the meeting-house silently lowered -the powder casks and muskets and carried them to carts outside. When -morning broke the munitions were stored again five miles away. The men -were in their usual places when the Sabbath service began. - -John gave one quick look at Dolly, and she was satisfied. He did not -go near her after the service, but one and another of the men came and -spoke to her. They said no word of why they spoke, but she knew, and -her heart swelled with pride as she counted the bravest of the place -among the number. They were true patriots, then! She never would doubt -them again, never! - -The next night Captain Robbins met his men near the church. Nothing was -stirring. The captain began to look black. - -One of the men entered through a window and flung the door open. They -strode into the empty room. The noise of their footsteps seemed to -echo and re-echo. All was solemnity of silence. In spite of themselves, -they were awed by the time and the place. - -“At least,” said Captain Robbins hoarsely, “we will take the stores.” -He climbed eagerly to the loft ahead of the others. “Your light, -Wilson,” he called. - -The man handed it up and Robbins held it high above his head. A few -startled swallows whirred around him and a mouse ran out of some straw -on the floor. But that was all. - -There were two visitors at the Pearsons’ the next day. One was the -captain who called to say farewell. His holiday was up, he said, and -he must go back to Boston. Dolly watched him as he rode away. Once he -turned and waved to her. “Good-bye, my little enemy,” he called. - -The next one was John Thurlow. He caught Dolly’s hands in his strong -grip and looked down at her so that she colored and tried to get away. - -“Why, Dolly!” said Elizabeth, in surprise. - -“Has she not told you?” asked John. “She is the bravest little maid I -ever saw. I know not, even now, how much her quick wit has saved.” - -“No,” said Dolly, looking up, her mischief as usual conquering her -confusion. “I am naught but a little rebel firebrand--Mr. Robbins said -so. And Mr. Robbins knows everything except the use of courting-sticks!” - -She broke away and ran quickly down the lane. The air was full of soft -summer noises, and the leaves and blossoms were stirring and flashing -and playing in the sunlight, and the day was golden--golden! She drew a -long breath of content. She was so happy to be alive and to have helped -a little. - -“For I always shall be a rebel as long as I live,” she declared. - - - - -SUSAN TONGS[P] - -By ETHEL PARTON - - The author says of Susan that she “was a sociable soul, if - occasionally a bit difficult”--and we welcome her to our gathering of - patriotic heroes and heroines. - - -The lower half-door of the Thurrell house side porch was closed because -Susan Tong’s ball of yarn, which was always slipping from her vast and -rotund knees, had a way of hopping down the steps if the door were left -open. Because the garden-path sloped, the ball, if once started, would -roll far beyond even the longest reach of the odd implement with twin -handles at one end, flat nippers at the other, and a middle length of -extensible iron latticework, which had earned Susan, properly the Widow -Thurrell, the name by which she was commonly known. But the upper half -of the broad, green-painted door was set wide to the streaming sunshine -of a mild October afternoon of 1776. - -Just within the door showed the chintz back, gay with red-patterned -palm-leaves, of the huge armchair in which sat Susan Tongs herself, her -smooth bands of red hair just showing beneath her cap, her small, light -eyes lifted from her work to the golden autumnal landscape, her triple -chin descending upon a snowy amplitude of kerchief, and a pair of long -steel needles clicking in her two fat hands. - -Susan possessed two distinctions: she was the fattest person in -the village, and she was the only fat person in it who had not an -easy-going disposition. Too unwieldy for many years past to move about -upon her little feet and weak ankles without the assistance of her -crutch-handled staff, her utmost exertion was to cross the road to the -meeting-house on Sundays; week-days she spent in her chair, directing -the household tasks of her pretty niece, Tamsine, who did not have a -very easy life of it. - -Susan Thurrell, everybody said, had been notably brisk and light of -foot in her youth, and the burden of flesh which had come upon her in -later life was particularly unwelcome, and far from being accompanied -by a corresponding increase in mental grace. She was certainly very -exacting. - -Just what her weight was no one knew; her own guess was “nigh about two -hundred and fifty,” but there were many who vowed it was three hundred -if it was a pound. - -A mottled hen which had somehow got into the garden patch caught -Susan’s eye, and a shadow of anger overcast her wide face. The creature -was clucking its way, followed by a lone chicken, directly toward her -favorite bed of sweet herbs. She shouted a husky “Shoo,” but without -effect; then she caught up her “lazy man’s tongs,” which lay near. - -Quickly compressing the handles, she shot the tip out to its farthest -extent and picked up with it a crust of bread fallen from the -dinner-table and overlooked, for Tamsey, the orderly caretaker, had -been called away in haste that day to a sick neighbor. This crust she -flung at the invader. The hen squawked and ran, but presently returned -to peck cheerfully at the missile. - -Still wheezing from the exertion of a rapid movement, Susan uttered a -grunt of disgust, and with lazy-tongs still in hand glanced about for -something else to throw. As she turned to look behind her chair she -saw, at the far end of the room, leaning against the mantelpiece to -which he seemed to cling for support, a young man, scarcely more than a -boy, very pale and breathing heavily, and with a queerly mingled look -of courage and terror in his eyes. - -“Othniel Purdie!” she cried. “What are you doing in my kitchen?” - -He only panted, and she stared at him in amazement fast deepening to -suspicion. - -“Why ain’t you with General Washington?” she demanded. “What are you -back here in Norley for? Folks said you’d run away to join the army. -Don’t you know there’s a British camp at the other end of the town, and -British officers quartered at Parson Hackett’s and Marchant Cole’s? -What are you here for?--and looking scared as a hunted rabbit! I never -liked you, and I won’t have you hanging around my niece, Tamsey; but I -do hope to Providence you’ve not deserted. I couldn’t bear to think -any Norley boy would do that. Speak up, can’t you? What are you here -for?” - -“I haven’t deserted,” the young fellow managed to say, “and I know well -enough the place is full of redcoats. They want me, and I’m afraid -they’ll get me, and it’s all up if they do.” - -“Want you? What for?” She looked at him again, and between her heavy -cheeks and the overhanging roll of her eyebrows a gleam of fiery -intelligence came into her two little gray-blue eyes, small and hard -and wise, like an elephant’s. - -“Where’s your uniform? What are you holding to the front of your shirt -for? Have you papers there? Despatches? Are you trying to steal through -the lines? That’s the same as spying, isn’t it? Good mercy, you’ll be -hanged; of course you will!” - -He had not needed to answer any of her quick questions in words; she -took the answer from his eyes without waiting, and scolded on: “And I -suppose you stopped here for a sight of Tamsey, but she’s away and you -won’t see her, and glad I am of that. The zanies boys are! You’d better -slip away quick and hide till dark; there’s a place in the shed loft -where nobody----” - -He interrupted her. “I can’t get there. I can’t go any farther. I’ve -sprained my ankle and I fainted twice getting here the back way from -Royd’s wood-lot, where I dodged them and they lost me. But they haven’t -given it up, and I heard them say they’d search every house in the -village. But this was the only place I could get away to, and so I -came. I can’t go any farther; I’ll faint again if I try. I thought -maybe Tamsey’d hide me. I know you don’t like me, Mrs. Thurrell, but I -thought you’d let her, when it was life and death--and there are the -papers----” - -“Give them to me,” said Susan. - -“Here--I know you’ll take good care of them, at any rate, and you’ll -send them on by a safe hand if I’m taken, won’t you, Mrs. Thurrell?” - -“Mmm!” grunted Susan. “Twist them up and toss them in the woodbox there -with the kindlings--it’s in plain sight and won’t be thought of. Now -we’ve got to hurry--hurry--hurry, if we’re going to save that neck of -yours; and, land, what a poor pair we are for hurrying!” - -Laughing fiercely, and gripping the arms of her seat, Susan had risen -painfully as she talked, and now, supporting herself on her staff, -stood up and shoved the great chair a little to one side. A trap-door -showed in the floor where it had stood, and she explained quickly that -the kitchen had been a later addition to the house; that the main -cellar did not extend beneath it, but that there was below a small, -square pit for storage, large enough to conceal a man at need. - -Then, crying to Othniel to catch, she tossed him her crutch-stick, and -leaning heavily upon it, he crossed the room to her side. Directing him -to lean on the chair, she resumed her staff, and, reversing it, hooked -open the trap-door with the crutch end, and signed to him to descend. - -He hesitated. “They’ll find it,” he said; “it’s in plain sight as soon -as your chair is moved. If I must be caught, I’d rather be caught above -ground than hauled out of a hole, like a woodchuck.” - -“You go down,” said Susan grimly, “I’m going to put that chair back and -sit in it; and move it they don’t neither, not if they’re the whole -British army!” - -He lowered himself to the edge and slipped down, wincing and biting his -lips as he curled up in the little square space, adjusting his injured -ankle in his hand. For a moment his clear eyes looked up to Susan’s -with gratitude and appeal; then the lid closed. He heard shoving and -shuffling and the settling of a heavy weight in place overhead, and -after that the swift and steady click of knitting-needles. - -A young English officer, accompanied by a sergeant and four soldiers, -coming briskly up the garden-path not ten minutes later, found Susan -Tongs knitting as usual, just within her doorway. She scarcely glanced -up while the officer, a youngster hardly older than Othniel, briefly -stated his errand and demanded admittance; but when he had concluded, -she shot him an indignant look. - -“Search my house!” she cried. “Do you suppose I want your soldiers’ -dirty fingers poking in my linen-chest and overhauling my gowns and -petticoats, all to find a good-for-nothing lad that’s been forbid -the place this two years? Ask any of the neighbors what were the -last words I had with Othniel Purdie, and whether he’s likely to be -hiding here or not--ask ’em! I don’t believe you even think he’s -here. I believe it’s an excuse to steal my property and drink my -cider. How should he be here? Last folks heard, he was off to General -Washington--God bless him----” - -“What! What!” cried the young officer, lifting his eyebrows and -laughing. Susan set her teeth and clicked her needles hard. “We hear -there’s a pretty niece of yours, who’s not so hard on the young man,” -he went on; “and since you’re so frankly a rebel yourself, Mrs. Tongs, -you’ll admit it’s not a bad guess that she may have coaxed you into -protecting even a lover you don’t like, when he’s doing spy’s work for -your admired General Washington. I shall certainly search the house.” - -“My name is Mrs. Thurrell, young man; it’s only old friends and -neighbors who may call me ‘Susan Tongs,’” answered Susan dryly. “And -no coaxing of my silly niece, Tamsey--not if she coaxed from now till -judgment--should drive me to harboring any lad against my will. I do as -I please in my own house. But she’s a soft thing, and young, and it’s -possible she might have slyed him in by the back way, if he’s really in -town and hiding; you see I sit here all day, and could little tell what -went on in the rest of the house. - -“The notion of Othniel Purdie stowed away in secret in cupboard or -closet of mine pleases me no more than it does you,” she scolded -on; “so on second thoughts you may search and welcome, provided only -you look well after your men and see there’s no mauling of my quilts -and calicoes--manners, sir, manners! Would you shove by a woman, hat -cocked, on her own threshold, when she has bidden you to come in? -Keep back, or come properly!” for the young lieutenant, impatient of -further talk, had started to push past Susan, whose great chair and -person almost blocked the way, and had made a sign to a soldier as if -commanding him to assist in removing the obstacle. - -But before the soldier could mount the steps, and quick as the -officer’s hand touched her chair, Susan had snatched up her -lazy-tongs--there was a snap, a glint of shining dark metal, and the -nippers clicked together within an inch of his ear. He uttered a -dismayed oath and leaped backward down the low steps, where he would -have fallen had not the grinning soldier caught him in his arms. - -Recovering himself, he cried, furiously, “Put down that pistol!” - -Susan smiled a grandmotherly smile and gently shook her head. - -The soldier’s grin broadened. “’Twa’n’t a pistol, sir,” he explained -respectfully. “I don’t know what it was; but ’twa’n’t a pistol.” - -“Let me pass!” said the officer, reassured but mortified, and springing -again up the steps. “Move aside and let me pass, woman!” - -“Woman, and an old woman,” answered Susan serenely, “and surely you may -pass, for I told you so. But a woman of my weight moves slowly, and it -behooves a young gentleman to show patience. I will be treated civilly -under my own roof; and I won’t budge an inch for a swaggering boy with -his hat on--there!” she continued, as he thrust roughly by, squeezed -nearly flat between the armchair and the door-jamb, “there’s for your -impudence!” - -This time her aim was better, and the tongs snicked sharply together -with the tip of his queue between them, with the result that, as he -pushed on and Susan held fast, his head was sharply jerked, and his -gilt-laced hat fell off at her feet. With a leisurely closing of the -nippers, Susan picked it up and put it on the table. - -“You can have it again when you go,” she said soothingly, as if -speaking to a fretful child. “And will you ask your man there to go -round to the other door? As you have just found, young sir, this door’s -scarcely wide enough for two, when I am one of them, and he is stouter -than you.” - -For a moment, red and angry, the young fellow glared upon her fiercely; -but she met his look with one so steady, placid, and grandmotherly, yet -with a glimmer of humor in it, too, that his wrath suddenly vanished -in a burst of boyish laughter. He signed to the soldier to go round to -the back door, as the others had already done, and held out his hand -for Susan’s lazy-tongs, which he played with curiously, snapping and -nipping with them at the air, while he directed the elaborate search -of the lower rooms. Then they all went upstairs together, and heavy -feet were heard clumping through the bedrooms for a long time. At last -the stairs creaked, and they descended. - -“Did your soldiers handle my linen?” asked Susan eagerly, with a face -of deep, housewifely anxiety. “I suppose they have tumbled the whole -chestful out in a heap.” - -“No, indeed--we’ve scarcely shaken out the lavender,” the lieutenant -answered, smiling pleasantly; adding, with a glance of mock terror at -the tongs, “May I have my hat?” - -“Let your sergeant go to the pantry first, if you please. I can’t wait -on you myself, but there are doughnuts and a jug of sweet cider on the -shelf, at your service,” she replied hospitably, and as it was the last -house of the village, and they had no further searching to do, they -accepted the modest treat gratefully, and the four soldiers gathered, -munching and sipping, around the kitchen fire in most friendly fashion. - -No shadow of suspicion remained, but the mischievous young commander -lifted his mug, and saying, “This is for the pull you gave my hair, -Mrs. Thurrell, and no punishment at that if you were a properly loyal -subject,” he drank to the king’s health. - -“Pour out a mug for me, too, sergeant,” demanded Susan, with sparkling -eyes; but as the man tipped the pitcher to obey, his officer stopped -him. - -“No, no!” he cried, laughing and waving it aside. “She will drink to -General Washington!” - -“Yes, that she would, young sir!” said Susan Tongs. - - * * * * * - -Next day, with his precious despatches rescued from the woodbox and -his ankle much better, Othniel escaped in a patriotic neighbor’s load -of hay. After the war ended he married Tamsey, with no opposition from -Susan, whose temper softened with time, and who, ever after having -saved him, lavished upon him an affection as great as her former -dislike. - -Indeed, it was a joke in the household--for they shared one home--that -Aunt Susan was never cross now unless Tamsey forgot to give her husband -his favorite kind of cake for supper, or left a rent in his coat -unmended longer then five minutes after he took it off! Then there was -a tempest. But Tamsey was so fond both of Othniel and Susan Tongs that -she could let it rage about her quite untroubled, duteously veiling her -amusement, and listening with an air of meek respect until it spent -itself, and peace returned. - - - - -THE LITTLE MINUTE-MAN[Q] - -By H. G. PAINE - - We have all heard of the “minute-men,” but do you know about the - little boy who played minute-man inside of a big grandfather’s clock, - while the redcoats were waiting to capture his father? - - -All during the winter Brinton had been saying what he would do if the -redcoats came, and grieving because his age, which was eight, prevented -him from going with his father to fight under General Washington. - -Every night, when his mother tucked him in his bed and kissed him -good-night, he told her not to be afraid, that he had promised his -father to protect her, and he proposed to do it. - -His plan of action, in event of the sudden appearance of the enemy, -varied somewhat from day to day, but in general outline it consisted -of a bold show of force at the front gate and a flank attack by -Towser, the dog. Should these tactics fail to discourage the British, -he intended to retire behind a stone fort he had built on the lawn, -between the two tall elms, and to fire stones at the invaders until -they fell back in confusion, while his mother would look on and -encourage him from the front porch. - -When the redcoats unexpectedly appeared in the distance, one afternoon -in May, what Brinton really did was to run helter-skelter down the -road, up the broad path to the house, through the front hall into the -library, close the door, and then peep out of the window to watch them -go by. - -When he first caught sight of the soldiers Brinton was sure that there -was at least a regiment of them, but when they were opposite the front -gate all that he could see were a corporal and three privates. Instead -of keeping on their way, however, they turned up the path toward the -house, and then it seemed to Brinton that they were the most gigantic -human beings that he had ever seen. - -His mother was away for the day, and had taken Towser with her. This, -together with the fact that the enemy were now between him and his -fort, entirely spoiled Brinton’s plan of campaign, and he decided to -seek at once some more secluded spot, and there to devise something -to meet the changed conditions. But when he started to run out of the -room, he found that in his hurry he had left the front door open, so -that any one in the hall would be in plain sight of the soldiers, who -were now very near. - -Unfortunately there was no other door by which Brinton could leave the -room. What was worse, there was no closet in which he could hide. The -soldiers were now so close at hand that he could hear their voices, and -a glance through the window showed him that two of them were going -around to the back of the house, as if to cut off any possible escape -in that direction. - -And his mother would not be back until six o’clock. Instinctively his -eyes sought the face of the tall time-piece in the corner. It was just -three; and he could hear the soldiers’ steps on the front porch! - -The clock! - -Surely there was room within its generous case for a very small boy. In -less time than it takes to write it Brinton was inside, and had turned -the button with which the door was fastened. As he pressed himself -close against the door, so that there should be room for the pendulum -to swing behind him, he heard the corporal enter the room. He knew it -must be the corporal, because he ordered the other man to go upstairs -and look around there, while he searched the room on the other side of -the hall. - -Brinton could hear the footsteps of the men as they walked about the -house, and their voices as they talked to each other. Then all was -quiet for a long while. He was just on the point of peeping out when -all four men entered the room. - -“Well,” said a voice that he recognized as the corporal’s, “it is plain -there is no one at ’ome. Me own himpression is that the bird’s flown. -’E’s probably started back for camp, and the wife and the kid with -’im. I don’t believe in payink no hattention to w’at them Tories says, -nohow, goink back on their own neighbors--and kin, too, like as not. -It’s just to curry favor with the hofficers, it’s me own hopinion. ’Ow -did ’e know the Major was comink ’ome to-day, anyhow?” - -Nobody answered him. Perhaps he didn’t expect any one to. - -The Major! Brinton’s own father! He was coming home! This, then, was -the surprise that his mother had said she would bring him when she -went off with Towser in the morning to go to Colonel Shepard’s. And -now those redcoats were going to sit there and wait until he came, and -then--Brinton did not know what would happen, whether he would be shot -on the spot, or merely put in prison for the rest of his life. - -Oh, if he could only get out and run to meet his father and warn him! -But the men seemed to give no signs of leaving the room. - -“Perhaps he hasn’t come at all yet,” suggested one of the privates. - -“Perhaps ’e hasn’t,” answered the voice of the corporal; “but w’y, -then, wouldn’t his folks be ’ere a-waitink for ’im? ’Owever, I’ll give -’im hevery chance. It’s now five-and-twenty minutes after three. I’ll -give ’im huntil six, but if ’e doesn’t turn hup by then, we’ll start -away for the shore without ’im.” - -“Six o’clock!” thought the boy in the clock. The very time his mother -had told him she was going to be home again “with something very nice -for him.” And now she and his brave papa would walk right into the -arms of these dreadful English soldiers, and he could not stop them! - -_Whang!_ - -What a noise! It startled Brinton so much that he nearly knocked the -clock over; and then he realized that it was only the clock striking -half-past three. - -Half-past three! He had been in there only half an hour, and already -he was so tired he could hardly stand up. How could he ever endure it -until four, until half-past four, five, six? - -“If only something, some accident even, will happen to detain papa and -mamma!” he thought. But how much more likely, it occurred to him, that -his father, having but a short leave of absence, would hasten, and -arrive before six. - -“Tick-tock,” went the clock. - -“How slow, how very slow!” thought Brinton, and he wished there were -only some way of hurrying up the time, so that the soldiers would go -away. - -Still the soldiers stayed in the room, all but one, who had gone into -the kitchen to watch from there. - -“Tick-tock,” went the clock, and “whang--whang--whang--whang!” Only -four o’clock. Brinton began to fear that he could not hold out much -longer. - -“Tick-tock,” went the clock. Each swing of the pendulum marked one -second, Brinton’s mother had told him. If he could only make it swing -quicker, so that the seconds would fly a little faster! - -“Why not try to?” Brinton was on the point of breaking down. He was -desperate. He felt that he must do something. He took hold of the -pendulum and gave it a little push. It yielded readily to his pressure. -None of the soldiers seemed to notice it. He gave it another push. The -result was the same. Brinton began to pick up courage, and he pushed -the pendulum to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. - -He tried to keep it swinging at a perfectly even rate, and apparently -he succeeded. At any rate, the soldiers appeared to notice nothing -different. Yet Brinton was sure that he was causing the old clock -to tick off its seconds at a considerably livelier gait than usual. -Half-past four came almost before he knew it, but by five o’clock -Brinton began to realize that he was very, very tired. He had been -standing two hours already in that cramped, dark, close case, and he -had pushed the pendulum first with one hand and then with the other -in that narrow space until both felt sore and lame. Yet now that he -had once begun, he did not dare leave off, and still it did not seem -possible that he could keep it up. - -The soldiers had kept very quiet for a long time. Brinton thought that -two of them must be napping. - -At five o’clock the soldier who was awake aroused the corporal and the -other private, whom the corporal sent to relieve the man on guard in -the kitchen. - -“I must ’ave slept mighty sound,” remarked the corporal. “I’d never -believe I’d been asleep an hour, if I didn’t see it hon the clock.” - -“No soigns av any wan yit,” reported the man who had been in the -kitchen, whom Brinton judged to be an Irishman. “Be’s ye going to wait -till six?” - -“Yes,” answered the corporal. “But no longer.” - -Then they began talking about the British fleet that was cruising in -Long Island Sound, and about the ship on which they were temporarily -quartered until they could join the main body of the army, and how -a neighbor of Brinton’s father’s and mother’s had been down at the -store when a ship’s boat had put in for water, and how he had told the -officer in charge that Major Hall, Brinton’s father, was expected home -for a few hours that day, and what a fine opportunity it would be to -make an important capture. - -The clock struck half-past five. - -“H’m!” grunted the corporal. “It doesn’t seem that late; but, you know, -you can’t tell anythink about anythink in this blarsted country.” - -Brinton now began to be very much afraid that his father would come -before the soldiers left. He wanted to move the pendulum faster and -faster, but after what the corporal had said he did not dare to. Then, -when the men lapsed into silence, it suddenly came over Brinton how -dreadfully weary he was, how all his bones ached, and how much, how -very much, he wanted to cry. But he felt that his father’s only chance -of safety lay in his keeping the pendulum swinging to and fro, to and -fro. - -At last, however, came the welcome sound of the corporal’s voice -bidding the men get ready to start. - -Whang--whang--whang--whang--whang--whang! - -“Fall in!” ordered the corporal. “Forward, march!” - -As the sound of their footsteps died away, Brinton, all of a tremble, -opened the door of the clock and stumbled out. He knelt at the window -and watched the retreating forms of the redcoats. As they disappeared -down the road he heard a noise behind him, and jumped up with a start. - -There stood his father! - -The next instant Brinton was sobbing in his arms. - -Brinton’s mother came into the room. “Dear me!” she said; “what ever -can be the matter with the clock? It’s half an hour fast.” - - - - -GENERAL GAGE AND THE BOSTON BOYS[R] - -By SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE - - A very short story, showing a British general’s admiration for - American boys who were not afraid to stand up for their rights. - - -Perhaps you have heard that even in these old times the Boston boys -were in the habit of coasting on the Common. They would build hills -of snow and slide swiftly down to the Frog Pond. Well, the English -soldiers had their camps on the Common, and from mere love of mischief -would, when the boys had gone to school, destroy their coasting-ground. -Incensed at having their sport thus meanly prevented, a delegation of -boys went to General Gage about it. When shown into his presence he -asked, with surprise, why so many children had come to see him. - -“We come, sir,” said the young spokesman, with a flushed face, “to ask -a redress of our grievances.” - -“What!” said the general, “have your fathers been teaching you -rebellion, and sent you here to utter it?” - -“Nobody sent us, sir,” replied the brave little fellow. “We have never -injured or insulted your soldiers, but they have trodden down our -snow-hills, and broken the ice on our skating-ground. We complained, -and they called us young rebels, and told us to help ourselves if we -could. Yesterday our works were destroyed for the third time, and now,” -said the lad, with flashing eyes, “we will bear it no longer.” - -General Gage looked at the boys with undisguised admiration. Then, -turning to an officer who stood near, he exclaimed: - -“Good heavens, the very children draw in a love of liberty with the air -they breathe.” To the lads he then said: - -“You may go, my brave boys; and be assured that if any of my troops -hereafter molest you, they shall be severely punished.” - - - - -WASHINGTON AND THE SPY[S] - -By JAMES FENIMORE COOPER - - In this Revolutionary story of Cooper’s, the Spy was one of - Washington’s most faithful helpers. The following pages tell of their - last meeting, shortly before the close of the war. - - -The commencement of the year was passed, on the part of the Americans, -in making great preparations, in conjunction with their allies, to -bring the war to a close. In the south, Greene and Rawdon made a bloody -campaign that was highly honorable to the troops of the latter, but -which, by terminating entirely to the advantage of the former, proved -him to be the better general of the two. - -New York was the point that was threatened by the allied armies; and -Washington, by exciting a constant apprehension for the safety of that -city, prevented such reënforcements from being sent to Cornwallis as -would have enabled him to improve his success. - -At length, as autumn approached, every indication was given that the -final moment had arrived. - -The French forces drew near to the royal lines, passing through -the Neutral Ground, and threatened an attack in the direction of -Kingsbridge, while large bodies of Americans were acting in concert. -By hovering around the British posts, and drawing nigh in the Jerseys, -they seemed to threaten the royal forces from that quarter also. -The preparations partook of the nature of both a siege and a storm. -But Sir Henry Clinton, in the possession of intercepted letters -from Washington, rested securely within his lines, and cautiously -disregarded the solicitations of Cornwallis for succor. - -It was at the close of a stormy day in the month of September that a -large assemblage of officers was collected near the door of a building -that was situated in the heart of the American troops, who held the -Jerseys. The age, the dress, and the dignity of deportment of most -of these warriors indicated them to be of high rank; but to one in -particular was paid a deference and obedience that announced him to be -of the highest. His dress was plain, but it bore the usual military -distinctions of command. He was mounted on a noble animal, of a deep -bay, and a group of young men, in gayer attire, evidently awaited his -pleasure, and did his bidding. Many a hat was lifted as its owner -addressed this officer; and when he spoke, a profound attention, -exceeding the respect of mere professional etiquette, was exhibited -on every countenance. At length the General raised his own hat, and -bowed gravely to all around him. The salute was returned, and the party -dispersed, leaving the officer without a single attendant, except his -body-servants and one aide-de-camp. Dismounting, he stepped back a few -paces, and for a moment viewed the condition of his horse with the eye -of one who well understood the animal, and then, casting a brief but -expressive glance at his aide, he retired into the building, followed -by that gentleman. - -On entering an apartment that was apparently fitted for his reception, -he took a seat, and continued for a long time in a thoughtful attitude, -like one in the habit of communing much with himself. During this -silence the aide-de-camp stood in expectation of his orders. At length -the General raised his eyes, and spoke in those low, placid tones that -seemed natural to him: - -“Has the man whom I wished to see arrived, sir?” - -“He waits the pleasure of your Excellency.” - -“I will receive him here, and alone, if you please.” - -The aide bowed and withdrew. In a few minutes the door again opened, -and a figure, gliding into the apartment, stood modestly at a distance -from the General, without speaking. His entrance was unheard by -the officer, who sat gazing at the fire, still absorbed in his own -meditations. Several minutes passed, when he spoke to himself in an -undertone: - -“To-morrow we must raise the curtain, and expose our plans. May heaven -prosper them!” - -A slight movement made by the stranger caught his ear, and he turned -his head, and saw that he was not alone. He pointed silently to the -fire, toward which the figure advanced, although the multitude of his -garments, which seemed more calculated for disguise than comfort, -rendered its warmth unnecessary. A second mild and courteous gesture -motioned to a vacant chair, but the stranger refused it with a modest -acknowledgment. Another pause followed, and continued for some time. -At length the officer arose, and opening a desk that was laid upon the -table near which he sat, took from it a small but apparently heavy bag. - -“Harvey Birch,” he said, turning to the stranger, “the time has arrived -when our connection must cease; henceforth and forever we must be -strangers.” - -The peddler dropped the folds of the greatcoat that concealed his -features, and gazed for a moment earnestly at the face of the speaker; -then dropping his head upon his bosom, he said meekly: - -“If it be your Excellency’s pleasure.” - -“It is necessary. Since I have filled the station which I now hold, it -has become my duty to know many men, who, like yourself, have been my -instruments in procuring intelligence. You have I trusted more than -all; I early saw in you a regard to truth and principle, that, I am -pleased to say, has never deceived me--you alone know my secret agents -in the city, and on your fidelity depend, not only their fortunes, but -their lives.” - -He paused, as if to reflect, in order that full justice might be done -to the peddler, and then continued: - -“I believe you are one of the very few that I have employed who have -acted faithfully to our cause; and, while you have passed as a spy of -the enemy, have never given intelligence that you were not permitted -to divulge. To me and to me only of all the world, you seem to have -acted with a strong attachment to the liberties of America.” - -During this address Harvey gradually raised his head from his bosom, -until it reached the highest point of elevation; a faint tinge gathered -in his cheeks, and, as the officer concluded, it was diffused over -his whole countenance in a deep glow, while he stood proudly swelling -with his emotions, but with eyes that modestly sought the feet of the -speaker. - -“It is now my duty to pay you for these services; hitherto you have -postponed receiving your reward, and the debt has become a heavy one--I -wish not to undervalue your dangers: here are a hundred doubloons; -you will remember the poverty of our country, and attribute to it the -smallness of your pay.” - -The peddler raised his eyes to the countenance of the speaker, but, as -the other held forth the money, he moved back, as if refusing the bag. - -“It is not much for your services and risks, I acknowledge,” continued -the General, “but it is all that I have to offer; at the end of the -campaign it may be in my power to increase it.” - -“Does your Excellency think that I have exposed my life, and blasted my -character, for money?” - -“If not for money, what then?” - -“What has brought your Excellency into the field? For what do you daily -and hourly expose your precious life to battle and the halter? What -is there about me to mourn, when such men as you risk their all for -our country? No, no, no, not a dollar of your gold will I touch; poor -America has need of it all!” - -The bag dropped from the hand of the officer, and fell at the feet -of the peddler, where it lay neglected during the remainder of the -interview. The officer looked steadily at the face of his companion, -and continued: - -“There are many motives which might govern me that to you are unknown. -Our situations are different; I am known as the leader of armies--but -you must descend into the grave with the reputation of a foe to your -native land. Remember that the veil which conceals your true character -cannot be raised in years--perhaps never.” - -Birch again lowered his face, but there was no yielding of the soul in -the movement. - -“You will soon be old; the prime of your days is already past; what -have you to subsist on?” - -“These!” said the peddler, stretching forth his hands that were already -embrowned with toil. - -“But those may fail you; take enough to secure a support to your age. -Remember your risks and cares. I have told you that the characters of -men who are much esteemed in life depend on your secrecy; what pledge -can I give them of your fidelity?” - -“Tell them,” said Birch, advancing, and unconsciously resting one foot -on the bag, “tell them that I would not take the gold!” - -The composed features of the officer relaxed into a smile of -benevolence, and he grasped the hand of the peddler firmly. - -“Now, indeed, I know you; and although the same reasons which have -hitherto compelled me to expose your valuable life will still exist, -and prevent my openly asserting your character, in private I can always -be your friend; fail not to apply to me when in want or suffering, and -so long as God giveth to me, so long will I freely share with a man -who feels so nobly and acts so well. If sickness or want should ever -assail you, and peace once more smile upon our efforts, seek the gate -of him whom you have so often met as Harper, and he will not blush to -acknowledge you in his true character.” - -“It is little that I need in this life,” said Harvey; “so long as God -gives me health and honest industry, I can never want in this country; -but to know that your Excellency is my friend is a blessing that I -prize more than all the gold of England’s treasury.” - -The officer stood for a few moments in the attitude of intense thought. -He then drew to him the desk, and wrote a few lines on a piece of -paper, and gave it to the peddler. - -“That Providence destines this country to some great and glorious fate -I must believe, while I witness the patriotism that pervades the bosoms -of her lowest citizens,” he said. “It must be dreadful to a mind like -yours to descend into the grave, branded as a foe to liberty; but -you already know the lives that would be sacrificed, should your real -character be revealed. It is impossible to do you justice now, but I -fearlessly intrust you with this certificate, should we never meet -again, it may be serviceable to your children.” - -“Children!” exclaimed the peddler; “can I give to a family the infamy -of my name!” - -The officer gazed with pain at the strong emotion he exhibited and he -made a slight movement toward the gold; but it was arrested by the -expression of his companion’s face. Harvey saw the intention, and shook -his head, as he continued more mildly: - -“It is, indeed, a treasure that your Excellency gives me; it is safe, -too. There are men living who could say that my life was nothing to -me, compared to your secrets. The paper that I told you was lost I -swallowed when taken last by the Virginians. It was the only time I -ever deceived your Excellency, and it shall be the last; yes, this is, -indeed, a treasure to me; perhaps,” he continued, with a melancholy -smile, “it may be known after my death who was my friend; but if it -should not, there are none to grieve for me.” - -“Remember,” said the officer, with strong emotion, “that in me you will -always have a secret friend; but openly I cannot know you.” - -“I know it, I know it,” said Birch; “I knew it when I took the service. -’Tis probably the last time I shall ever see your Excellency. May God -pour down His choicest blessings on your head!” He paused, and moved -toward the door. The officer followed him with eyes that expressed -deep interest. Once more the peddler turned, and seemed to gaze on -the placid but commanding features of the General with regret and -reverence, and then, bowing low, he withdrew. - -The armies of America and France were led by their illustrious -commander against the enemy under Cornwallis, and terminated a campaign -in triumph that had commenced in difficulties. Great Britain soon after -became disgusted with the war; and the independence of the States was -acknowledged. - - - - -THREE WASHINGTON ANECDOTES - -Adapted from M. L. WEEMS - - The original story of little George Washington and his hatchet, - together with two other doubtful anecdotes not so well known. - - -On a fine morning in the fall of 1737 Mr. Washington, taking little -George by the hand, went to walk with him in the orchard, promising -to show him a fine sight. On arriving at the orchard, a fine sight -indeed was presented. The whole earth, as far as could be seen, was -strewed with fruit, and yet the trees were bending under the weight of -apples which hung in clusters like grapes, and vainly strove to hide -their blushing cheeks behind the green leaves. “Now, George,” said -his father, “look here, my son! Don’t you remember when a good cousin -of yours brought you that fine large apple last spring, how hardly I -could prevail on you to divide with your brothers and sisters; though -I promised you that if you would but do it God Almighty would give you -plenty of apples this fall?” - -Poor George could not say a word, but hanging down his head, looked -quite confused, while with his little naked toes he scratched in the -soft ground. “Now look up, my son,” continued his father, “look up, -George, and see there how richly the blessed God has made good my -promise to you. Wherever you turn your eyes you see the trees loaded -with fine fruit, many of them indeed breaking down; while the ground -is covered with mellow apples, more than you could eat, my son, in all -your lifetime.” - -George looked in silence on the wide wilderness of fruit. He marked -the busy humming bees, and heard the gay notes of birds; then, lifting -his eyes filled with shining moisture, to his father, he softly said, -“Well, Pa, only forgive me this time, and see if I ever be so stingy -any more.” - - * * * * * - -When George was about six years old he was made the wealthy master -of a _hatchet_, of which, like most little boys, he was immoderately -fond; and was constantly going about chopping everything that came in -his way. One day, in the garden, where he often amused himself hacking -his mother’s pea-sticks, he unluckily tried the edge of his hatchet -on the body of a beautiful young English cherry tree, which he barked -so terribly that I don’t believe the tree ever got the better of it. -The next morning, the old gentleman, finding out what had befallen his -tree, which, by the by, was a great favorite, came into the house; -and with much warmth asked for the mischievous author, declaring -at the same time that he would not have taken five guineas for his -tree. Nobody could tell him anything about it. Presently George and -his hatchet made their appearance. “George,” said his father, “do -you know who killed that beautiful little cherry tree yonder in the -garden?” This was a tough question, and George staggered under it for -a moment; but quickly recovered himself, and looking at his father, -with the sweet face of youth brightened with the inexpressible charm of -all-conquering truth, he bravely cried out, “I can’t tell a lie, Pa, -you know I can’t tell a lie. I did cut it with my hatchet.” - -“Run to my arms, you dearest boy,” cried his father; “such an act in my -son is worth more than a thousand trees, though blossomed with silver, -and their fruits of purest gold.” - - * * * * * - -To startle George into a lively sense of his Maker, his father fell -upon the following very curious but impressive expedient: - -One day he went into the garden and prepared a little bed of finely -pulverized earth, on which he wrote George’s name at full, in large -letters, then strewing in plenty of cabbage seed, he covered them up, -and smoothed all over nicely with the roller. This bed he purposely -prepared close alongside a gooseberry walk, which happening at this -time to be well hung with ripe fruit, he knew would be honored with -George’s visits pretty regularly every day. Not many mornings had -passed away before in came George, with eyes wild rolling and his -little cheeks ready to burst with great news. - -“Oh, Pa! come here, come here!” - -“What’s the matter, my son? What’s the matter?” - -“Oh, come here, I tell you, Pa: come here, and I’ll show you such a -sight as you never saw in all your lifetime!” - -The old gentleman, suspecting what George would be at, gave him his -hand, which he seized with great eagerness, and tugging him along -through the garden, led him point blank to the bed whereon was -inscribed, in large letters, and in all the freshness of newly sprung -plants, the full name of - - GEORGE WASHINGTON - -“There, Pa!” said George, quite in an ecstasy of astonishment, “did you -ever see such a sight in all your lifetime?” - -“Why, it seems like a curious affair, sure enough, George!” - -“But, Pa, who did make it there? Who did make it there?” - -“It grew there by chance, I suppose, my son.” - -“By chance, Pa! Oh, no! no! It never did grow there by chance, Pa. -Indeed that it never did!” - -“Why not, my son?” - -“Why, Pa, did you ever see anybody’s name in a plant bed before?” - -“Well, but George, such a thing might happen, though you never saw it -before.” - -“Yes, Pa; but I did never see the little plants grow up so as to make -one single letter of my name before. Now, how could they grow up so -as to make _all_ the letters of my name, and then standing one after -another, to spell _my_ name so exactly, and all so neat and even, -too, at top and bottom! Oh, Pa, you must not say chance did all this. -Indeed, _somebody_ did it; and I dare say now, Pa, _you_ did it just to -scare me, because I am your little boy.” - -His father smiled, and said, “Well, George, you have guessed right. I -indeed did it; but not to scare you, my son, but to teach you a great -thing which I wish you to understand. I want, my son, to introduce you -to your true Father.” - -“Aye! I know well enough whom you mean, Pa. You mean God Almighty, -don’t you?” - -“Yes, my son, I mean Him indeed. He is your true Father, George, and -as my son could not believe that chance had made and put together so -exactly the letters of his name (though only sixteen) then how can he -believe that chance could have made and put together all those millions -and millions of things that are now so exactly fitted to his good.” - - - - -WHEN GEORGE THE THIRD WAS KING[T] - -By ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS - - How a Philadelphia boy watched the Declaration of Independence in the - making and celebrated the first Fourth of July on the Eighth. - - -Philadelphia in July! Not even the most loyal boy or girl of that good -old Quaker town but must admit that Philadelphia in July _is_ a hot -place. - -“Warm and sunshiny,” were the words that Mr. John Nixon, in his daily -journal for the year 1776, placed against the early days of July, but I -am inclined to think that young Joe Nixon was nearer the fact when he -called it “broiling hot.” - -Very possibly, however, this slight exaggeration on the part of young -Joe was due to the fact that he was very busy and therefore very warm. -Not that he had anything of especial importance to do. Not always those -who are busiest have the most to do; but you see there was a great deal -to hear and see in Philadelphia town in the early days of July in the -year 1776 and young Joe Nixon, like a true American boy, felt it his -duty to be on hand when anything of importance was on foot. - -And so he was continually on the go between his uncle’s big house on -the Water Street, the room of the Committee of Inspection on Second -Street, the parade-ground of the “Quaker Blues” on the city common, and -the big brick State House on Chestnut Street. - -For young Joe Nixon was a privileged character and duly felt his -importance. His uncle, Mr. John Nixon, was a member of the Committee -of Safety, and better still, young Joe was a particular favorite of -Mr. David Rittenhouse who “had charge of the public clock in the State -House Square.” This put him on good terms with a still more influential -acquaintance--the doorkeeper of the Continental Congress, then in daily -session in the Assembly chamber of the State House. - -Young Joe was a quick-witted lad and like all the rest of the race -of boys dearly loved to watch and listen even though he could not -always understand. Seated by the side of his friend the doorkeeper, he -found it very interesting and sometimes highly exciting to follow the -proceedings of the bewigged and earnest gentlemen who were talking, -discussing, and sometimes getting quite angry with one another on the -floor of the Congress. Joe only knew in a general sort of way what all -this talk and discussion meant. But one thing he was certain of, as -were all the boys and girls in the colonies--and that was that there -was a “jolly row” on hand between the colonies and the King. He knew, -too, that, away off toward Boston-town there had been two or three -fights with the King’s soldiers, in which the troops of the colonies -by no means had the worst of it. And he knew, most of all, that it was -mightily hard just now for a boy to get hold of anything new or nice -to eat or to wear or to play with and that, somehow, this was all the -fault of King George the Third, and that the colonies did not propose -to stand this sort of thing any longer. - -So he had made the most of his acquaintance with the doorkeeper of the -Congress and had witnessed most of the important events that had taken -place during that lovely Philadelphia June. - -He had looked with all the awe of a small boy of twelve upon the fifty -or more gentlemen--the delegates to the Congress--who, representing the -thirteen colonies, were ranged in a half-circle on either side of Mr. -Hancock, the President. But I think he admired, even more, the “elegant -standard, suspended in the Congress Room,” over the door of entrance at -which he sat with his friend the doorkeeper, and which was “a yellow -flag with a lively representation of a rattlesnake in the middle in the -attitude of going to strike, and these words underneath: ‘Don’t tread -on me!’” - -He had been in the Congress Room so often that he knew most of the -delegates by sight and name: that gentleman in the big chair behind -the heavy mahogany table and the great silver inkstand--the gentleman -with the scarlet coat and the black velvet breeches--was Mr. John -Hancock, the President of the Congress--“Rosy John,” the Tory boys -called him, much to young Joe’s ireful indignation; that gentleman -in the long-waisted white cloth coat, scarlet vest and breeches, and -white silk hose, was Mr. Jefferson of Virginia; that gentleman in -the long buff coat and embroidered silk vest was, as of course every -Philadelphia boy knew, the great Doctor Franklin; and there, too, were -Mr. Adams and Mr. Gerry of Massachusetts, Mr. Sherman of Connecticut, -Mr. Clinton of New York, Mr. Stockton of New Jersey, Mr. Carroll of -Maryland, Mr. Lee of Virginia, Mr. Rutledge of South Carolina, and -many others whose faces and whose voices had now grown familiar. Even -his boyish mind, thoughtless of the present and careless of the future -though it was, had felt the excitement of the moment when on Friday, -June 7th, Mr. Richard Henry Lee of the Virginia colony had risen in his -place and, “amidst breathless silence,” had read to the Congress this -notable resolution: - -“_Resolved_, that these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, -free and independent States, that they are absolved from all allegiance -to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them -and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved.” - -Then Mr. John Adams of Massachusetts seconded the resolution, Mr. -Thomson, the secretary, made the official entry in the Journal, the -Congress, with but few words, postponed its consideration until the -next day, and young Joe Nixon adjourned with the delegates, like them, -half-dazed and half-jubilant. - -So, through the long June days, the Congress argued and debated and -hesitated while young Joe Nixon--a true type of the restless Young -America that is ever in a hurry for action and results--watched and -wished and wondered, not thinking of what might be in the future save -that King George was to be thrown overboard and the colonies were to -set up for a Nation. - -At last, on June 28th, a committee, consisting of Mr. Jefferson of -Virginia, Mr. Adams of Massachusetts, Doctor Franklin of Pennsylvania, -Mr. Sherman of Connecticut, and Mr. Livingston of New York, presented -to the Congress a long paper which young Joe understood was called a -Declaration of Independence. And although he thought it was splendid -and full of the most mightily strong blows against King George, much to -the lad’s disgust the Congress did not seem to go into ecstasies over -it, but hummed and hawed and deliberated until July 2d, when Mr. Lee’s -original resolution was put to vote, carried by the voice of every -colony except New York, and the United Colonies were declared to be -Free and Independent States. - -Young Joe Nixon, had he dared, would have tossed his little -three-cornered hat in the air with a loud hurrah, but the gentlemen of -the Congress he thought seemed strangely quiet about it all. He did not -see what their wiser heads comprehended, that the vote of the Congress -on that second of July meant years of struggle against a mighty -power--sorrow and privation and, perhaps, after all, only defeat and, -to the leaders, the disgraceful death of traitors. He saw only the -glowing colors of victory and excitement as young folks are apt to, and -as it is right they should. - -And yet that very night, as the Congress adjourned, portly Mr. -John Adams, with whom the lad was quite a favorite, noticed the -ill-concealed exultation of the boy and laying a hand upon his head -said to him: “A great day this, my young friend; a great day, is it -not?” - -“Oh, yes, sir,” replied young Joe with energy, “I’m so glad it passed, -sir.” - -“And so am I, my lad,” said Mr. Adams, with almost equal enthusiasm; -“you are a bright and seemly little lad and will not soon forget this -day, I’ll be bound. So mark my words, my lad. The second of July, -1776, will be the most memorable day in all the history of America. -It will be celebrated ere you grow to manhood, and by succeeding -generations, as the great anniversary festival, commemorated as the day -of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty, from one -end of the continent to the other, from this time forward for evermore.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Joe most respectfully. He did not comprehend all the -meaning of Mr. Adams’s solemn words, but he was quite as confident as -was that gentleman that it was a day the anniversaries of which would -mean in future plenty of fun and jubilee. - -Good Mother Nixon could get but little work from her Joe on the -following morning. And though, in her peaceful Quaker way, she bade -him beware of too much glorying in all the strife and warfare that -seemed afoot, I rather suspect that even her placid face flushed -with quiet enthusiasm as she besought her boy to remember that right -was always right, and that it was nobler and manlier to boldly face -whatever might betide than to be as were some men in their Quaker town -who, so she said, “loved too much their money and their ease, and did -but make conscience a convenience, instead of being sincerely and -religiously scrupulous of bearing arms.” All of which meant that there -were some craven folk in that day of manly protest against tyranny -who, to save themselves from annoyance, pretended to be Quakers and -“non-combatants,” when they were only skulking cowards. And all such -every honest Quaker utterly detested. - -But young Joe Nixon, too full of the excitement of the moment, paid -but little regard to his good mother’s words, inasmuch as they did not -apply to his case; and, hot and panting, fearful lest he should miss -something new, dashed up to the State House and slipped in beside his -friend the doorkeeper. - -The Congress was already in session. Mr. Jefferson’s paper called the -“Declaration respecting Independence” had been again taken up for -consideration, and was being soberly debated, paragraph by paragraph. - -Frequent repetitions had made Joe familiar with some of the phrases -in this remarkable paper. Even his young heart beat high as he heard -some of those ringing sentences--about all men being created equal -and being “endowed with the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and -the pursuit of happiness”; how that “whenever any form of government -becomes destructive to these ends it is the right of the people to -alter or abolish it”; that “the history of the present King of Great -Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations,” that “a -prince whose character is thus marked by every act which may define -a tyrant is unfit to be the ruler of a free people”; that “we must, -therefore, hold the British people, as we hold the rest of mankind, -enemies in war, in peace friends”; that “we, the representatives of the -United States of America in general Congress assembled, appealing to -the Supreme Judge of the world for the rectitude of our intentions, do, -in the name and by the authority of the good people of these colonies, -solemnly publish and declare that these united colonies are and of -right ought to be free and independent States”; and, lastly, that “for -the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection -of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our -fortunes, and our sacred honor.” - -Joe, as I have said, had felt his young heart glow and his young -pulse beat under the enthusiasm of these ringing declarations and all -this debating and questioning appeared to him as fearfully slow and -faint-hearted; he wondered why, since the Congress had already passed -Mr. Lee’s resolution of Independence, they should so hesitate over Mr. -Jefferson’s Declaration of Independence; and, quite frequently, he felt -compelled to dash out into the hot and sunny street and work off his -impatience in a wild and purposeless “go-as-you-please” around what was -called “Mr. Rittenhouse’s Observatory” in the centre of the square. - -The day dragged on and so did the debate. Even Mr. Jefferson lost -patience and, confessing that he was “writhing under” all this talk, -needed all of Doctor Franklin’s philosophy and example to calm him down -again. So it is not to be wondered at that, late in the afternoon, -Joe Nixon, enthusiastic young patriot though he was, grew wearied -with the talk and the delay and determined to go home. But just as -he was leaving the building there dashed into the State House yard -a big chestnut horse covered with foam and dust. Its rider, a fine, -well-built man in dust-stained travelling cloak, sprang from the saddle -and, dropping the bridle-rein into Joe’s ready hand with a quick, -“Here, my lad, take my nag to the City Tavern stables, will you?” -hurried without further words into the Congress room. - -Joe’s impatience changed to burning curiosity again and, transferring -his panting charge to another ready lad for attention, he, too, hurried -into the hall and asked his friend the doorkeeper who this newcomer -might be. - -“Why, lad, ’tis Mr. Cæsar Rodney, don’t you know,” replied the -doorkeeper. “The delegate from the Counties upon Delaware whom they -sent for by special post only yesterday, since his colony is divided in -action and his vote is needful to carry the Declaration through.” - -“And did he ride from home to-day?” inquired Joe. - -“Surely, boy,” said the doorkeeper, “clean from the County of Kent, -eighty miles away. ’Twas a gallant day’s ride and a fair day’s work, -for by it is independence won.” - -It was even as he said. Rodney’s glorious ride secured the vote of -Delaware for the Declaration and late that very night of Wednesday, the -third of July, by a majority vote of the States--as the colonies now -called themselves--the immortal paper that we know as the Declaration -of Independence passed the Congress. - -But before it was handed to the secretary to be engrossed, or copied so -that it might be signed by all the delegates, Mr. Hancock, as president -of the Congress, affixed to it his bold signature that we all now know -so well. And young Joe Nixon had, actually, to stuff his hat into his -mouth to stifle the hurrah that did so want to burst out when Mr. -Hancock, rising from his seat, said in his most decided tones: - -“There! John Bull can read my name without spectacles. Now let him -double the price on my head, for _this_ is my defiance.” - -Then the Congress adjourned and young Joe went home, completely tired -out with the day’s anxiety and excitement. And though on that notable -night of the third of July a nation had been born, Philadelphia lay -quietly asleep knowing little or nothing of the great happening. - -Next day--the first Fourth of July ever specially known to -Americans--Joe was about the only privileged character who, slipping -into the secret session heard, from his seat by the side of his -friend the doorkeeper, the order given by Mr. Hancock as president of -the Congress that “copies of the Declaration be sent to the several -assemblies, conventions, and committees or Councils of Safety, and to -the several commanding officers of the Continental troops; that it be -proclaimed in each of the United States and at the head of the army.” - -This was all that was done on the Fourth of July, 1776, as young Joe -Nixon could testify. But the printed copies of the Declaration prepared -for transmission to the several States and to the army and signed by -Mr. Hancock, the president of the Congress, and by Mr. Thomson, the -secretary, all bore the heading: “In Congress, July 4, 1776,” and thus -that date has come down to us as the one to be especially remembered. - -That very night Joe heard, at his uncle’s big house on the Water -Street, that the Committee of Safety in Philadelphia--of which, as I -have said, Mr. John Nixon was a member--had ordered that “the Sheriff -of Philadelphia read or cause to be read and proclaimed at the State -House, in the city of Philadelphia, on Monday the 8th day of July -instant, at 12 o’clock at noon of this same day, the Declaration of the -Representatives of the United States of America, and that he cause -all his officers and the constables of the said city to attend to the -reading thereof.” - -Here was a new treat in store for young Joe; and when he learned that -the Worshipful Sheriff had designated his uncle, Mr. John Nixon, as -the reader, Joe knew that this meant a front seat for him and was -appropriately jubilant. - -The day came. Monday, the eighth of July, 1776. “A warm and sunshiny -morning” again reads the truthful journal, and twelve o’clock, noon, -must have been hot indeed. But not all the heat of a Philadelphia July -could wither the ardor of such patriots as young Joe Nixon. He was -therefore a very “live” portion of the procession which, forming at -the hall of the Committee of Inspection in Second Street, joined the -Committee of Safety at their lodge, and, to the stirring sounds of fife -and drum, marched into the State House square. Out from the rear door -of the State House came the Congress and other dignitaries and then, -standing upon the balcony of Mr. Rittenhouse’s astronomical observatory -just south of the State House, Mr. John Nixon in a voice both loud and -clear read to the assembled throng the paper which declared the United -States of America “Free and Independent.” - -The reader concluded with the glorious words: “We mutually pledge to -each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor,” and, as his -voice ceased, the listening throng, so the record says, “broke out -into cheers and repeated huzzas.” Then the Royal arms were torn down -from above the seats of the King’s Judges in the State House, and Joe, -like a wild young Indian, danced frantically around the bonfire which -destroyed these “insignia of Royalty.” - -Again, at five o’clock, the Declaration was read to the troops then -present in the town, and the evening was given up to bonfires and -fireworks which you may be certain young Joe enjoyed to his full -content. - -And peal upon peal, sounding above all the shouts and the hurrahing, -rang out loud and clear, at both the noon reading and the night’s -celebration, the joyous clang of the big bell of the State House -telling the glad tidings of freedom, as well befitted a bell on whose -brazen rim men had read for twenty-four years the almost prophetic -motto: - -“_Proclaim liberty through all the land to all the inhabitants -thereof._” - -To his dying day Joe Nixon never forgot the glory and exultation of -that jubilant first Independence Day--the eighth of July, 1776. - -One other notable scene also lived long in his memory--a day and a date -new to many of us who have always supposed that the Declaration of -Independence was passed, signed, and proclaimed on the Fourth of July. -It was the morning of Tuesday, the second of August, that same historic -summer of 1776. From his customary seat by the doorkeeper Joe saw Mr. -Thomson, the secretary of the Congress, lay upon the president’s -table a great sheet of parchment. And on this sheet carefully and -beautifully copied was the Declaration of Independence. Then, one by -one, beginning with Mr. Hancock the president, the delegates to the -Congress signed the great paper and by that act sent their names down -to posterity--famous and honored forever. - -Of the fifty-six signers of the Declaration not all affixed their -names to the document on that notable second of August. Absentees and -new-comers added their names as they joined the Congress, and not until -the fourth day of November, 1776, was the last signature affixed. - -Names and dates go for but little when a great deed is done. The -deed itself is of more importance than either names or dates. But -to us of this second century of the Republic there is both interest -and pleasure in re-telling the story of liberty and following out by -dates, altogether new to most of us, the real progress of the historic -document that made us a nation. - -Instead of one “Fourth of July,” you see, we have really four--The -Second of July, upon which Mr. Lee’s Resolution of Independence was -passed by the Congress; the Third of July, upon which the Declaration -itself was passed; the Fourth of July which witnessed the order for -its proclamation, and the Second of August upon which it was actually -signed by the members of the Congress. - -The original document to which these names were signed still exists, -grown worn and yellow with age; the Liberty Bell that rang out the -joyous news of freedom on the sunny noon and the starlit night of the -eventful eighth of July is now cracked and voiceless; the signers -themselves are now only names and memories; but their work lives in -the power and glory of the great nation which they founded, and every -true American girl and boy honors the memory and applauds the courage -of those devoted men. And upon each recurring Fourth of July every girl -and boy in the land is as joyous and jubilant a young patriot as was -even young Joe Nixon when, with bonfire and rude, old-time fireworks, -with hurrah and shout and song he celebrated, in the days when George -the Third was king, the first Fourth of July on the Eighth. - - - - -THEIR FLAG DAY[U] - -By HERBERT O. MCCRILLIS - - A grandfather tells a group of patriotic little Americans how _his_ - grandfather was a redcoat at Lexington. - - -Toot! Toot! Rub-a-dub-dub! came from down the street, and it made -Grandpa Sturdy, who sat dozing in the sun, start up suddenly and look -to see what gallant soldiers were coming. - -First came Captain Tommy Rankin, acting as drum-major, with his -sister’s muff worn for a fur hat, and an umbrella for a baton. -Behind him came a troop of children wearing all sorts of military -decorations--helmets, epaulets, and paper caps. One boy carried a large -flag, and one of the girls was singing through a comb. - -Grandpa rose and went out to the gate as they came near. Then, just -as they came close, he took off his hat and gave them a military -salute--for grandpa was a soldier once--and held up his hand for them -to stop just a moment. - -“Company, halt!” commanded Tommy, in a loud tone. “Parade, rest! -Salute! Attention!” And they obeyed. - -“What company is this?” said grandpa smilingly. - -“We are the minute-men, grandpa,” said Tommy. “We are going out to -Concord to keep Flag Day. Our teacher was going to have a celebration -to-day, but she is sick, so we have made a procession, and are going to -march by her house to show her how we can remember the flag.” - -“That’s right,” said grandpa, saluting the flag. “I can do that if my -grandfather was what we call a redcoat.” - -“Your grandfather a redcoat?” cried all the boys in a breath. “Did he -ever tell you anything about it?” - -“Oh, yes, he told us about going to America to fight the rebels, and -what a lot of British soldiers there were in Boston, who all laughed at -the idea of the plain country farmers and workmen being able to fight -the king’s own fine troops; and granddad thought so with all the rest, -he said. Well, they found out that day that the rebels could fight, -after all. Let me see, what day was that, boys?” - -“April 19, 1775,” said Tommy, echoed by the others. - -“Yes, yes. You have got that learned, haven’t you? Grandfather said -that all through that long, hard march from Concord back to Boston they -were fighting. They were ashamed to be beaten by those they had made -fun of. - -“Every stone wall, every large rock or tree seemed to have an American -behind it. He said it was wonderful how those farmers could shoot. -Dozens of the Englishmen fell and died there in the road. Granddad -told us how they struggled on, tired, wounded, thirsty, and almost -ready to give up. Finally most of them got back to Charlestown, and -were safe. But all day long, and most of the night before, they had had -to march. - -“And they didn’t do what they went out for, either, for the Americans -had carried off the guns and powder they went to destroy. The night -before they marched out gaily enough, expecting to have no trouble, and -only a trip into the country in the fine spring air. - -“But the trip became a terrible battle, and began a great war. And ever -since America and England have been two separate nations. - -“Grandfather went back to England very soon, and as he couldn’t march -and fight any more, he got a pension from the king and stayed in -England all his life. - -“He liked America, and always said that now there was peace, and the -new country promised so much, he would like to go there to live; but he -never did. My father brought us over, though, when I was sixteen. So I -am an American, if my grandfather was one of the redcoats who fought at -Lexington in America.” - -“I’d rather have a grandfather that was a minute-man,” said one of the -boys. - -“Perhaps the great-grandfathers of some of you fought the redcoats,” -said Grandpa Sturdy. “But I am not ashamed to tell you that my -grandfather wore one of the king’s red-and-white uniforms and carried -a British gun. The soldiers were doing their duty bravely enough. It -was the king and the men with him who were to blame for the battle. -Well, boys, march on again, march along. Stand up for your flag. It is -my flag, too, and I love it. Always be ready to be minute-men for the -flag.” - -“Attention, company! Carry arms! Forward, march!” shouted the captain. - -Away went the procession to the teacher’s house, their flags waving -gaily and the flowers they were carrying nodding their heads, while -Grandpa Sturdy settled back in his easy chair. - - - - -A TRUE STORY OF THE REVOLUTION[V] - -By EVERETT T. TOMLINSON - - A boy’s story by a boy’s author, telling of a thrilling escape from - “Tarleton’s men.” - - -“Father’s escaped! Moses has just brought me word,” said John Russell, -as he ran to the steps of the broad veranda. His mother quickly rose -from her chair and looked down at the eager boy on the steps below her. -Her slight figure was trembling, and a bright red spot had appeared on -each cheek. - -“Are you sure, John?” she asked, in a low tone. - -“Yes, sure! It seems that the British escort had gone but halfway to -Charleston when a band of five Whigs met them. They had a bit of an -argument, and the upshot of it was that father made off. Strange about -these Whigs happening to meet them, wasn’t it?” - -John, unable to restrain his feelings longer, threw his hat high in the -air, and rushing up the steps, seized his “little mother” in his arms -and began to dance with her about the porch. - -“What’s that you say? Your father’s escaped?” - -John quickly released his mother and turned to face the gruff-voiced -Captain Heald of the British service, who had just come out of the open -door. The boy’s manner instantly changed, although he could not conceal -his exultation as he replied: “Yes, sir; he’s escaped! He had no fancy -to spend any more time in the ‘provost’ at Charleston. It isn’t a fit -place for vermin, to say nothing of human beings.” - -“I ought to have hanged him, and you, too!” replied the captain. “It’s -the only way to deal with such rebels!” - -“Hanging, sir,” said John, “seems the thing your party do best; unless -you have a still stronger fancy for quartering yourselves on your -betters.” - -“Fine parole you’ve kept!” sneered the captain. “I’ll warrant, if the -truth were known, you yourself had a share in this escape of your -father.” - -“I’m under no parole not to help my father to freedom,” said John. - -The captain looked at him angrily a moment, and then, without making -any further reply, turned and went down the steps and across the lawn -to join some of the soldiers who were quartered on the plantation. - -“I beg you to be careful, John,” said his mother anxiously, when they -were alone again. “You know that man can do whatever he pleases here.” - -“No,” replied John, “he cannot frighten me with his bluster and his red -coat.” - -“But you must not provoke him. Tarleton has given him full command in -this district, and he has already committed outrages that no British -regular officer would venture on.” - -In fact, the war in that region was largely a conflict of partisans -native to the soil, and Tory Americans often committed against Whig -Americans high-handed acts from which officers accustomed to the -procedure of military law would have shrunk. - -“Very well,” said John, laughing to reassure his mother. “He hasn’t any -great cause for liking me, that’s a fact. I’ve let the pigs out of the -pens and scared away the chickens, and told the negroes where to hide -some of the stuff in the barns. But this last work is the worst--this -sending word, as I did, by Moses to Dick Eddy to look out for father -when he passed. Heald will never forgive me for that. I’m not afraid, -though,” he added, as he left his mother and followed the captain -across the lawn. - -Even in his excitement the beautiful summer day had an influence to -soothe him. All about him lay the fertile lands of Ridgefield, his -father’s plantation, one of the most beautiful in all the South. Behind -him was the great house in which he had been born, flanked by the -quarters of the negroes and the spacious barns. Off on the left was a -grove, and below the hill was the slow stream. John would have felt the -sweet influences of the hour more but for the presence of thirty men in -scarlet, who now were the virtual masters of the place. - -Only a week earlier Captain Heald had somehow gained information that -Major Russell and his son had left Sumter’s army for a brief visit -home, so the Tory band had at once swooped down and captured both. John -had been left on parole, and his father had escaped; but Ridgefield was -now occupied by “Tarleton’s men,” and all its beauty for John was gone. - -He stopped and watched the guards doing “sentry go” in the road and out -by the grove beyond the house, and the longer he watched them the more -helpless and angry he felt. “Great liberty this!” he muttered. “Shut up -here like a pig in a pen! Not that there are many pigs left here now,” -he added, smiling grimly. “Oh, well, I hope father’ll do something, now -that he’s got away.” - -“John,” said his mother, when he returned to the house, “Captain Heald -is going to leave.” - -“Good for Captain Heald! When is he going?” - -“To-night. Lieutenant Mott is to be left in charge here.” - -“He’s not as bad as the other. Where’s the captain going?” - -“I think over to Fort Granby.” - -“Humph! Probably to set some one on father’s tracks. He’ll never get -him, though. Hello! Here comes the captain now, and he’s all dressed to -leave!” - -A colored man soon brought the captain’s horse, and as the officer -swung himself lightly into the saddle, John, taking off his hat and -bowing low, called out: “Good-bye, captain! We’ll speed the parting -guest, although we can’t welcome the coming!” - -Captain Heald made no reply, but turned on John a threatening look, at -which the boy laughed. - -That day went by and on the following morning John was wandering about -the place, idly watching the soldiers, longing to be with his father, -and wishing he had not given his parole to stay on the plantation. A -black servant came to him and said that his mother wished to speak -with him at the house. He went, and found his mother at the door. An -expression of agony was on her face. - -“What is it mother?” he asked. - -“Go up to your room, John, and I’ll tell you.” - -The boy ran swiftly up the stairs, and held the door of his room open -for his mother to enter. She closed and locked the door behind her, -and then, handing him a letter, said: “I found this in the dining-room -after Lieutenant Mott left the breakfast-table.” - -John took the letter from his mother’s hand and read: - - Fort Granby, August 6, 1780. - - LIEUTENANT MOTT. Upon receipt of this, you will at once take and - hang that young rebel, John Russell. He has violated his parole - and is entitled neither to a further hearing nor a trial. Hang him - before sunset to-night. I shall expect to receive word by to-morrow - morning.--HEALD. - -John’s face turned deadly pale, then red with anger. “I have not broken -my parole!” he cried. “I never gave a promise that I would not help -father to escape. This is murder, and----” - -“I think Lieutenant Mott dropped that letter in the dining-room -intentionally,” broke in his mother. “He’s not as bad as Captain Heald. -He won’t carry out the order.” - -With a great effort John controlled his voice. “We’ll see, mother. If -it is really an order, I suppose he’ll have to carry it out--unless I -escape.” - -“He might let you escape.” - -“No, little mother. But don’t give up. I’ll find a way out.” - -He kissed his mother, unlocked the door and walked slowly down the -stairs and out upon the veranda. Lieutenant Mott was coming up the -steps, and as he met John he gave him a keen glance of sympathy. But -that was all. Not a word or sign to show that he would not carry out -his order. - -_Hanged!_ The very crickets seemed to be chirping it. Over and over the -word kept repeating itself in John’s mind as he walked slowly on over -the lawn. He saw that now he was no longer bound by his parole. His -word of honor had held him, but the order to hang him released him from -the bond. He would escape if he could, but wherever he went red-coated -soldiers were lounging lazily about, and up and down the road marched -the sentries with their muskets over their shoulders. - -If it were only night! In the darkness he might escape, but it was not -yet noon. The very words of the letter came back to him. “Hang him -before sunset to-night!” - -And this was to be the end of it all! To be hanged! It was too -horrible to think of. Every avenue of escape was blocked, and in sheer -desperation he returned to the house and made his way noiselessly up -the stairs to his room. His mother was not there, and relieved by the -thought that she was not present to look upon him in his weakness, -he bolted the door and seated himself by the table on which stood a -miniature of her. He looked at it, and dropping his head upon his arms -on the table before him, he sobbed in an agony of despair. - -He was roused by the sound of the dinner-bell. He must go down and -somehow conceal his feelings. He bathed his face and, somewhat relieved -by his tears, arose to join the family in the room below. - -Only his sisters were there when he entered, and he knew at once by the -expression upon their faces that his mother had not shown the letter -to them. He choked down a few mouthfuls of food, but he could not eat. -Excusing himself from the table on the plea that he wished to find his -mother, he ran swiftly up to her room and rapped upon the door. - -He had to repeat his summons before it was opened, and then it was only -far enough to enable his mother to see who the visitor was. Then she -drew him inside, and quickly closed and bolted the door again. - -John almost broke down when he looked at her, so woful and desperate -was her expression. He must cheer her with some hope, and his own -courage revived at the cheerful tone which he assumed: - -“Little mother, none of the Russells were ever hanged, and I shall not -be the first.” - -“What will you do, my son?” Her voice sounded as if it were far away, -and John looked up quickly as he replied: “I shall make a break for it, -if I must. I’d rather be shot in trying to get away than be hanged.” - -“You are my own brave laddie,” said his mother, rising. “Do your best, -John; but if you have to----” - -“I know, I know,” he murmured, as for one moment he returned her -frantic embrace; and then, not daring to look back, he left the room. - -After crossing the lawn he seated himself beneath a spreading tree -to collect his thoughts and survey the place. Everything was as it -had been. The guards were marching up and down in the road; the idle -soldiers were lounging about the tents; the locusts were calling in the -trees, and peace apparently was over all. - -“I’ll have to try it. They may come for me any time now,” he thought, -suddenly rising and starting toward the guard in the upper road. He -could feel that his mother was watching him, but he dared not look -toward her windows. The testing time had come and now it was to be a -struggle for life. - -He walked leisurely up the road, although his heart was beating -furiously. He would try not to attract attention, and it was no unusual -thing for him to join the men on guard. They all knew he was on parole, -and besides, there were the guns if he should try to get away. - -“It’s hot to-day, Tom,” he said, as he approached. - -“You’d think it was if you had to carry a gun up and down this dusty -road.” - -“I’d be glad to relieve you, Tom. You rest a bit, while I take your -place.” - -“That’s kind of you,” laughed the guard, “but I fear it won’t do, sir,” -and he passed on, while John seated himself to await his return. - -He glanced at the soldiers in the tents near by. How easily they could -reach him, and only one word would bring them all after him! But he -must take his chances. There was no other way, and when the guard -turned his back again he would try it. - -Just then a little, lean, half-starved pig came out of the woods and -stood for a moment stupidly staring at the boy before him. “Poor -fellow!” thought John. “You’re in the same box with me. Tarleton’s men -will treat us alike.” - -He looked up and saw the returning guard. The pig saw him, too, and -as if inspired by a sudden fear, he gave a startled grunt and darted -swiftly up the road. - -“Here, sir, help me catch the pig!” shouted the guard, starting swiftly -in pursuit of the runaway. “He’s the last on the place.” - -John needed no second invitation, and in a moment he and the guard were -following the pig, which was running as if he knew his life was in -danger. The soldiers rushed from their tents, and stood laughing and -cheering the pursuers. To them it was a comedy to see the sentry and -the prisoner striving to catch one poor, little half-starved pig; but -to John the pursuit had all the elements of a tragedy. Life or death -lay in the outcome for him. - -He flung aside his hat and coat, and put forth all his strength. -Dripping with perspiration, streaked with dust, almost breathless he -sped on and on. Once he came close upon the frightened pig, but he took -good care to fall upon him in such a manner that the little “porker” -only emitted a terrified squeal and redoubled his speed. - -“Hold! hold!” shouted the guard, who was behind now. “Let him go. We -can’t catch him!” - -John glanced quickly back, and saw that he was out of the range of the -soldiers’ muskets. His speed increased as he realized that the supreme -moment had come at last. Only the gun of the guard was to be feared now. - -“Halt!” shouted the guard again. “Stop, or I shoot!” - -John only drew his head down between his shoulders. His heart almost -ceased to beat. The report of the gun rang out, and he almost fell to -the ground as he heard the bullet whistle over his head. - - * * * * * - -A few days afterward, when he was with his father in Sumter’s army near -Camden, just before the terrible battle, and for the second time had -been relating the story of his escape, he added, “That little porker -did a double duty. He saved his bacon, and he saved mine, too.” - - - - -POLLY CALLENDAR: TORY[W] - -By MARGARET FENDERSON - - The tale of a Tory maid, a Patriot youth, and a kettle of scarlet dye. - - -In 1774-5, previous to the outbreak of the Revolution, the Callendars -were Royalists, and General Gage’s young British officers, one of whom -was related to the Callendars, frequently rode out from Boston to call -at the hospitable country-house. It was Polly Callendar whom they went -to see; her beauty and vivacious wit were the theme of many toasts. -And up to the evening of this story Polly was as disdainful of the -“minute-men” as was her mother. - -At about noon of that day Madam Callendar was summoned to the bedside -of Elizabeth Ballard, a kinswoman living near Natick. She had left her -brick oven full of the week’s baking, and had set a large brass kettle, -filled with redwood dye, on the crane in the great fireplace. Madam -Callendar’s parting directions to Polly had been not only to watch the -oven, but to stir the boiling redwood. - -Numerous skeins and hanks of woolen yarn, spun during the previous -winter, were immersed in it, and the last warning from Polly’s mother -was: “Redwood must never be hurried, Polly. Stir often, lass. Press -the hanks down hard with your clothes-stick, and then drop in a little -of this powdered alum to set the scarlet.” - -So through the long, foggy afternoon it was Polly Callendar’s homely -task to watch the oven and tend the “scarlet kettle.” But with evening -came an unexpected diversion. A knock was heard at the outer door; and -when old Rastus, the negro servant, had opened it, a tall young man, -in provincial garb, inquired how far it was to Boston and what was the -road. Learning that the distance was still considerable, he entreated -hospitality, saying that having ridden since dawn, he was both tired -and wet. Polly at first demurred, but in the end, moved by his plight -and persuaded somewhat by his respectful manners and handsome face, she -sent Rastus to stable the horse. - -She spread a plentiful supper before the wayfarer; and then, because -his appearance pleased her, she brewed for him some of her mother’s -cherished tea, and poured it into one of the delicate china teacups -that had come from England. - -But the young man ate in silence, notwithstanding these attentions. -Truth to say, he was ill at ease. He was on his way to join the -minute-men, and he was bringing with him a hundred pounds that had been -contributed by the “patriot committee” of his native town. He feared -that in some way the redcoats had been given a hint of his mission. -Mounted men had stared hard at him that day, and he had thought it -wise to avoid a troop patrolling the roads. And now, despite the -quality of his supper, he paused to listen anxiously whenever horses’ -hoofs or voices were heard without. Polly, noticing his uneasiness and -marking his blue colonial home-spun, drew her own inferences. - -Of a sudden the young man took note of the kettle and its scarlet -contents. - -“That is a bright dye which you have there, mistress,” he remarked. -“Are you fond of so high a color?” - -“In good truth, sir, and why not?” replied Polly. “Have you fault to -find with it?” - -“I would be but a churl, an I did,” answered the guest gallantly, -“since it is scarcely more pink than the cheeks of my fair hostess. - -“The redcoats must feel flattered at your preference,” he added. - -“And is it not the hue that all loyal subjects should prefer?” queried -Polly demurely. - -“Nay, but I will not gainsay you, mistress,” replied the young man. -“And yet,” he added, “it is a color soon to fade under our American -sun.” - -“But not from the hearts of the king’s loyal subjects,” retorted -Polly. “This is no rebel household, sir. My kinsmen, who were here but -yesterday, wear the scarlet and are the king’s loyal servants.” And -saying this she observed her guest closely and saw that he winced. - -“Beyond doubt he is one of the patriots,” she thought. “But such a -handsome youth! Moreover, he is most courteous, and his voice and ways -are more gentle and respectful than those of Cousin Charles.” - -As for the stranger, his heart sank afresh. “I will pay for my supper -and get on,” he thought. “I shall be safer abroad in the darkness than -here.” And he rose to take leave as gently as he might, but at that -moment the tramp of horses was again heard; and this time they did not -pass, but pulled up before the house door. - -“My kinsmen, it is very like,” said Polly, smiling. “They wear sharp -swords, sir.” Then, as she noted the hunted look which the young man -cast about the room, her light and taunting manner changed. “Is it that -you would not like to meet them, sir?” she asked, in a low tone. - -As she spoke there came an imperative rap at the outer door, and a cry -of “Open in the king’s name!” - -“For heaven’s sake, mistress, show me some way out,” cried the -stranger. “It is less that I fear their swords, but I am on a mission -of importance.” - -“Open, madam! Open, Polly! It is I, your Cousin Charles; and they say -there is a rascally rebel here!” cried the voice outside. “But we have -the house surrounded.” - -Polly had turned toward a rear door, but hearing these last words, -darted to the centre of the room again. For an instant she was at -a loss. Then her eyes fell on the door of her mother’s storeroom, -a closet beside the large chimney, which it was Madam Callendar’s -practice always to keep locked; but in the haste of departing that day -she had forgotten to take the key. - -“Here, sir,” Polly whispered. “Quick, be quick!” and she unlocked the -door, half pushed the man within and hastily turning the key again, put -it in her pocket. - -“Open! Open!” cried the voices outside. “Open in the king’s name!” and -the raps were repeated. - -“Coming, good sirs, coming,” cried Polly. Then her eye fell on the -young patriot’s greatcoat lying across the back of a chair. If seen, -that would betray all. She snatched it up and plunged it into the great -kettle of scarlet dye. Then throwing the door open and courtesying -low, as was the custom of those days, she cried: “Good-evening, Cousin -Charles. Welcome, good gentlemen. My mother has gone to Natick for the -day. Ne’theless you are right welcome.” - -“Ay!” grumbled the young officer. “After my knuckles are skinned with -knocking. But prithee, Polly, have you seen naught of this insolent -knave?” - -“Indeed, Cousin Charles, this is but a sorry jest!” exclaimed Polly -Callendar. “Since when has my family been aught but loyal to the king?” - -“True,” assented the Briton. “Yet the rascal may be lurking about.” - -“Enter, then, and see for yourselves,” cried Polly. “My mother would -earnestly desire you to purge her house of rebels!” - -They came noisily in--while the young patriot’s heart beat fast--they -peered into nooks and corners, and presently ascended to the attic. - -“Do not forget the cellar!” cried Polly gaily, opening the door and -handing her cousin a lighted candle. “Perchance the knave is hiding in -some bin or box.” - -The quest there proved as fruitless as in the chambers; but on emerging -one of the party noted the closed door by the chimney and tried it. -“Why locked?” he exclaimed. “The key, fair mistress.” - -“For that you will do well to ask my mother,” replied Polly carelessly. -“The closet is my mother’s keeping-room; and it is ever her custom to -carry the key in her pocket.” - -“True,” remarked her cousin, who knew the ways of the household. “The -rogue will hardly have got into madam’s keeping-room. Doubtless he has -slipped away.” - -“If ever he were here,” flashed back Polly. “But beyond doubt, good -cousin and gentlemen, you must be hungry after your hard ride. Will you -not partake of our cheer?” - -Nothing loath, the young redcoats gathered about the supper-table, -where for an hour or more Polly maintained the reputation of the house -for loyalty and good entertainment. In truth, the soldiers were slow -to depart, and would hardly have gone by nine o’clock had not Polly -adroitly reminded her kinsmen that the “Knave” they were pursuing would -surely get clear away. Thereupon they took leave and rode off with -much laughter. - -But fearful lest they might return, Polly waited long listening, and -not until old Rastus had come in to bar the outer door for the night -and close the shutters would she release her prisoner. - -“Come forth, sir,” she at last commanded, with assumed austerity. “What -have we here? A rebel, I fear me, from all I am told.” - -“But one profoundly grateful to his preserver,” replied the young man; -and to old Rastus’s great astonishment he took Mistress Polly’s hand -and gallantly kissed the tips of her fingers, albeit they were tinged -with scarlet from her dye. - -“Methinks, sir, it but ill becomes me to accept such thanks from one -who confesses his disloyalty to King George,” Polly replied, still with -seeming severity, “and whose name I do not even know. But since you are -here, prithee take seat before the fire. For of necessity, sir, I have -made a good Royalist of you, so far as your greatcoat covers you. See!” -And with the clothes-stick she lifted the coat out of the kettle. “Not -Cousin Charles’s own is a brighter scarlet!” - -The stranger burst into a hearty laugh. - -“Good faith, I had not thought to wear a scarlet coat!” he exclaimed. - -“Yet, sir, it may stand you in good stead as you ride into Boston -to-morrow,” replied Polly. “It was of that I thought as I dipped it. -And now let us powder a little alum in the mortar to set the hue. I -would not have thy loyalty wash out, sir, in the first shower that -falls on you.” - -As a consequence, one young patriot found himself powdering alum to dye -his own coat scarlet. And midnight came and passed as he and Polly sat -in front of the great brass kettle, and old Rastus nodded in the corner. - -Beyond doubt they became better acquainted in this time; and Polly -certainly learned the stranger’s name, for as the tall old clock in the -corner struck one, she said, “It is now time to wring thy coat, John -Fenderson.” - -When wrung, it had still to be dried; and Polly put it for an hour into -the warm brick oven. - -Somewhat puckered from the dye, the garment still required pressing -out; and to heat a sad-iron and accomplish this occupied yet another -hour. The old clock struck three. - -“Truly, John Fenderson, making a king’s man of thee has been a long -task!” exclaimed Polly, as at last she held up the scarlet coat for -inspection. “Don it, sir! I would even desire to mark the effect.” -And what John Fenderson would not have done at the king’s command -he appears now to have done without hesitation at Polly Callendar’s -request. For between these two young people the grievous differences of -Tory and Patriot had already been dispelled--in the dyeing of a coat -before a fireplace. - -“Good luck, John Fenderson, in thy brave coat,” said Polly at four -o’clock, as the young man took leave, after she had given him -breakfast. “May the color hold,” she added. “But if it fades----” - -“I shall come back to you,” said John. - -“Ah, but it will grieve me when I hear that thou art to be hanged for a -rebel!” cried Polly from the door. - -“Nay, Mistress Polly, I should have but to send for thee to teach me -how to dye!” replied John Fenderson. - -So he rode away, and had cause to be thankful for the disguise the coat -offered him; for while riding through Newton a little before noon, he -was hailed by three redcoats, two of whom raised their muskets; but the -third held them back, saying, “Nay, by his coat he must be one of our -men.” - -There is much reason to believe that Mistress Polly’s loyalty to King -George was ever afterward open to question. At any rate, the records of -John Fenderson’s native town show that he married in 1779, and that the -bride’s name was Polly Callendar. - - - - -NEIL DAVIDSON IN DISGUISE[X] - -By MARY TRACY EARLE - - A boy in General Greene’s army sets out to capture a famous Tory - marauder and finds him to be his own brother. What does he do? - - -In the early days of March, 1781, Neil Davidson was thirteen years -old and had been five months in the patriot army. He had taken part -in several skirmishes and had lived in camps where food was scarce -and clothing scarcer, where a blanket for four men was a prize, and -companies were sometimes obliged to stay away from review because their -uniform had been worn through to that of mother nature. He had shared -the hard marches by which Greene and Morgan kept the prisoners taken -at Cowpens from recapture by Cornwallis, and during which Greene had -reported that the naked feet of his men marked their way with blood. - -It was a strange experience for a boy, and Neil had become such a queer -combination of outspoken child and shrewd veteran as can be matched -in these days only by the gamins who fight their battles in the city -streets. Without losing his boyishness he had acquired a military -swagger which he knew enough to suppress when there was any advantage -to be gained by acting like a child, and underneath swagger and -boyishness there burned the revengeful, deep-seated hatred of Tories -which marked all but a few of the patriots of those days. In Neil -it was an unchildlike passion, giving him strength on long marches, -putting a keen barb to his wit, making him trusted in the army beyond -his years. - -Before the real beginning of the Revolution his father had been hanged -by the Tory government for taking part in a popular outbreak, and his -mother had been crazed by grief. From the shadow of such an early -childhood Neil had emerged almost a man in purpose at thirteen and very -fierce at heart. - -Yet, in spite of a bronzed face, he was still exceedingly coltish -and immature in appearance, with round, wide-open blue eyes, a shock -of long, sunburned hair, and legs that also were long and sunburned, -having seldom been covered by a substantial, untorn garment. There was -a great amount of speed available in the bare legs, and under the shock -of hair there was plenty of boyish logic and common sense. - -Altogether, he was handy to have about, and he was sent on so many -errands from officer to officer that he was known around all the -cheerless campfires in Greene’s army. Even the general kept him in -mind, and at times permitted him to undertake important missions. He -had carried more than one of the appeals for reënforcements which -Greene kept sending to the governors of North and South Carolina and -Virginia, and to the military leaders of the three states. His way had -lain through a country swarming with enemies, and he had come safely -through encounters in which a man’s errand would have been investigated. - -One night, during the anxious two weeks before the Battle of Guilford -Court House, Greene sent for him again. The army was moving stealthily -along muddy roads through the dusk of starlight, for the general -thought his force still too weak to risk an engagement and evaded -Cornwallis by shifting his camp every twenty-four hours, in the dark. -The footsore men plodded forward silently. Loss of sleep was wearing -them out. Greene himself had hardly slept for a week, and physical -exhaustion united with his judgment in declaring that the strain could -not last much longer. If sufficient reënforcements did not arrive -soon, he would have to fight without them, and disaster would result. -He sighed and settled himself wearily in the saddle. For a moment his -overburdening anxiety slipped from him, and he dozed as he rode. Then -he straightened himself with a start. A small lanky figure had bobbed -up beside his horse out of the obscurity of the night, and he caught -the motion of a salute. - -“Ah, Neil,” he said, “I sent for you to see if you are ready to -undertake another dangerous errand. I fear my last message to Colonel -William Campbell has been intercepted. I want some one to go out, try -to meet him, and hurry him forward. If he has not heard of our recent -movements, he may be marching toward the Dan River.” - -He hesitated a moment, as if he had more to say, but Neil did not wait -for it. “I’m your man, sir!” he declared. - -The general smiled at the boy’s confidence. “That was my impression, -too,” he admitted. “Yet there is one strong argument against your -going. Gillespie, one of the scouts, has just come in. He’s been -hanging around Tarleton’s Legion and he’s heard you spoken of. It seems -that the enemy took notice of you in the affair at the mill the other -day, and that rascal who has your name, Davidson, the bushwhacker, is -with the Legion, and he swears to capture you; so if any of Tarleton’s -men come across a boy of your size and description, he will have hard -work to get away from them.” - -“But even if they are on the lookout for a boy, they’re just as much -on the lookout for every grown man in your army,” Neil urged. “Anybody -that the Tories get hold of will have to give a good account of -himself.” - -“So I reasoned,” the general said, “and at the same time I am unwilling -to have you undertake this without some safeguard. You are about the -height of an ordinary young woman, and when we reach Mrs. Bynum’s -plantation, where we shall make our next camp, I shall have her furnish -you with clothing and a side-saddle, and you will go disguised as a -girl. That is all for the present. Report to me at the Bynum house as -soon as you reach the plantation, and keep this to yourself in the -meantime.” - -Neil saluted and dropped back. As soon as he was at a safe distance he -gave a long whistle of surprise. Then he began to laugh. The dismay -with which he first thought of concealing his military identity in -petticoats gave way to excitement. He began softly to hum the air and -words of a rude ballad which celebrated the victory of King’s Mountain, -five months before, and was passing from mouth to mouth through the -patriot army. - -“Stop that singing!” a gruff voice said in his ear. “Are you signalling -to Cornwallis?” - -In the darkness it was impossible to see if the speaker were officer or -man from the ranks. Neil took the risk and answered like an equal: “Who -are you that are giving me orders? I left General Greene ahead there, -and just now I’m taking orders direct from him.” - -“Oh!” the voice returned ironically, but without apparent offense, -“then I reckon you’re the great Neil Davidson. I’m merely Joe -Gillespie, scout.” - -“I have heard of you,” Neil said good-naturedly. “The general was -speaking of you just now.” - -“Do you know who was speaking of you lately?” Gillespie asked. He took -the boy by the arm and walked along with him through the dark. “That -namesake of yours, Sandy Davidson. He’s taken a notion to capture you, -and you want to be as wary as you know how. He’s the worst of the Tory -bushwhackers, and the most daredevil. If he’s decided to capture you -because your name’s the same as his, he’s likely to walk right into -Greene’s camp and do it. It’s nothing to him that there’s a reward out -for his life.” - -“I reckon he’ll not find it as easy to catch me as he thinks,” Neil -said. A tremor of fierceness came into his voice. He threw back his -shoulders, and his companion could feel his arm grow tense. “But if -I live long enough I’ll capture him and see him hanged. He has my -brother’s name.” - -“The name is common.” - -“It shan’t be common among Tories!” the boy declared. “They killed my -brother. They shan’t have his name.” - -“How did they kill him?” Gillespie’s voice was stirred. It was an old -story, the loss of life on either side in the bitter Civil War that -tore the Carolinas, but it was a story that never found dull ears. - -“I don’t know,” Neil said. “I was a very little boy and the Indians had -carried me off. When I was exchanged and brought home my mother told me -that the Tories had killed Sandy. She didn’t say how--she never would -tell me how. She’d had so much trouble that she was--well, queer, and -she never would tell anything very much. I was so scared and lonesome -that I ran away to the Indians, and stayed with them again a long time. -Mother was just the same when I came back. She didn’t need me and I -couldn’t do anything for her, and that’s why I followed the army to -fight the Tories in Sandy’s place. And I don’t intend to let any Tory -live with his name.” - -Gillespie had been seasoned in border warfare, yet he felt -uncomfortable at hearing a mere child use the fierce language of the -war. “Pshaw, now,” he said, “it’s an ugly business to plan to kill men -one at a time! When a whole army gets up before you and you shoot at -it, that’s a different matter. And you want to be careful; besides, -he’s a good deal more likely to get hold of you and do what he pleases -with you than you are with him.” - -“I’ll be careful,” Neil agreed--“careful to capture him.” - -There were so many things to occupy the general’s attention that it -was nearly daybreak before the messenger was despatched; but at last, -with his length and thinness encased in linsey-woolsey petticoats and a -sunbonnet on his head, the boy rode off through the cold morning chill. - -Before Neil started the sunbonnet had been ripped open, and Greene had -slipped a letter to Colonel Campbell in between the lining and one of -the slats which stiffened its brim. Neil was as conscious of the letter -as he was of the rattling of the bonnet round his ears and of the -imprisoned feeling which it gave him to wear it. The general had told -him to treat the bonnet carelessly if he fell into trouble; to swing -it by the strings as a girl might, and to swing it into a fire if -possible; but for the first hour Neil was in no trouble except from the -bonnet and the petticoats and the necessity of sitting sidewise on his -horse. - -He was riding through woodland; day began to sift slowly down among -the dark tree-trunks. The branches above him grew astir with wakening -birds; the cold air was sweet from unseen jasmine flowers. - -The world seemed so quiet, and there was such a sense of peace abroad, -that Neil did one of the few imprudent things of his service. His -side-saddle continually troubled him; he felt insecurely perched on it, -and his back was twisted in an unfamiliar way. If he rode astride for -a while, during this secure, peaceful time, he reasoned that the rest -of the journey would be easier for him when in full daylight he was -obliged to play the girl decorously and be constantly on his guard. - -One leg swung over. He pressed his knees into the horse’s sides, and -gave a suppressed whoop of joy. The horse sped forward, and just for -practice, he jerked off his sunbonnet and swung it round and round his -head by the strings; the blood danced in him; he leaned forward and -gave a hissing chirrup to the horse; his petticoats flapped in the -wind, and the trees fled hastily to the rear. Now was his chance for -making time. To feel himself firmly and naturally seated on the horse -was glorious. He swung the bonnet round his head again. One of the -strings slipped from his hand and the other tore from the bonnet. The -bonnet flew to the roadside, and before Neil could check his horse it -was rods behind. - -As he rode back for it, a man stepped out of the woods and picked it -from the bush where it had lodged. At sight of him Neil flung his stray -leg back where it belonged, and blushed to a depth of embarrassment -which would have done credit to any girl. - -“If you please, sir,” he said, “I just lost that bonnet.” - -The stranger held the bonnet behind him and laughed. He was a tall, -broad-shouldered fellow with a face which made Neil sure that he was a -man to be reckoned with. The features were large, yet mobile, and his -pale, greenish eyes had a spark of mischief in them which looked as if -it might turn to fire. Neil felt sorely perturbed, and he had no need -to play a part in order to show timidity. Sandy Davidson came back -into his mind; but if this were Sandy, there would be small chance to -capture him in such a meeting, and the most Neil could hope was to get -away. - -Whoever the stranger might be, his first object was to tease. “What’ll -you give me for it, Miss Tomboy?” he asked. - -“I--I don’t have anything to give you,” Neil stammered. - -“Then you’ll not get it,” the other said, slipping the bonnet inside -his blouse. “You don’t really want it you know. Anybody can see from -your brown face that you’re not used to wearing a bonnet.” - -“But I do want it!” Neil declared. He was wild with anxiety and had no -idea what to do. If the man had not slipped it into his tunic, he might -have ridden closer, snatched it, and galloped off. - -The man stood laughing at him. “I’ll swap it for a kiss,” he offered. - -Neil drew back. “No, you’ll not!” he cried angrily. His indignation was -for himself rather than for the girl he pretended to be. As far as he -could remember, neither his mother nor the Indians nor the soldiers had -ever offered him a bargain of this kind. He had never been kissed since -his babyhood. His face set, his blue eyes turned fierce, and he lifted -the switch which he used as a riding whip. - -The stranger fell back a pace and stared with a look which was first -startled and then keen. “You’re not a girl; you’re Neil Davidson!” he -said abruptly. - -Neil’s hand dropped. He stared back at the stranger. Something far away -and dimly remembered, something which had made the boy tremble from -the first, was in the man’s features. There was no question now. This -was Sandy Davidson, and he had not only borrowed a name from Neil’s -brother, he had borrowed a face. - -As they stood bewildered a faint sound reached them. Although distant, -there was no mistaking the murmurous trample of many feet. - -The man took Neil’s horse by the bridle. “You don’t deny that you’re -Neil Davidson, and you’re my prisoner,” he said. “That’s Tarleton’s -Legion. I was waiting here till it came by.” - -“Why do you think I’m Neil Davidson?” - -“Can’t you guess?” For the first time the man’s voice had a troubled -sound. “It was when you got so mad. Your eyes blazed just as _hers_ -always did, and then all at once I could see your baby face--changed a -lot, but looking right out at me. You always looked like mother.” - -Neil’s hand closed on the horn of the side-saddle. The name “Sandy -Davidson” had not prepared him; the resemblance had seemed only an -added insult. - -“You needn’t be afraid,” the other said, noticing how pale he had grown -under his tan. “Since I heard of you in Greene’s army I’ve vowed I’d -catch you, and now I have. Our family has done enough against the king. -But I’ll see that nobody hurts you.” - -Neil straightened himself with a jerk. His timidity was gone and his -bewilderment was yielding to an understanding of what his mother had -meant when she said that the Tories had killed Sandy. “And since I’ve -heard of a Tory with my brother’s name, I’ve vowed to capture _him_!” -he cried. “I’ve vowed that no Tory named Sandy Davidson should live, -for mother said they’d killed you.” - -The other gave an impatient laugh. “Why don’t you capture me, then?” he -asked. “Here I am. I told mother I was on the king’s side, and she said -I was dead to her. She was growing crazy and driving me crazy begging -me to revenge father’s death, when father was a rebel and deserved -what he got. She drove me out of the house when I said I was a king’s -man.” He shrugged his shoulders as if to put an end to accounting -for himself. “Of course you’ve got messages on you, or you’d not be -disguised. Hand them over and it will save you trouble. I’m your very -affectionate brother, though you would like to collect that reward -for me, but I can tell you Tarleton’s a very affectionate brother to -nobody!” - -The sunbonnet with the letter in it was still in the front of Sandy’s -hunting-shirt. “You can search me,” Neil said. “You’ll find no letters.” - -“Then what were you sent for?” - -“To practise riding on a side-saddle. You noticed that I don’t take -very kindly to sitting this way.” - -“You’re pretty cool for a prisoner,” Sandy said approvingly. “I’ll -search you fast enough, but I reckon we’ll be as good friends as when -you wore dresses all the time.” - -“Don’t think it!” Neil cried out. “Don’t think I’ll ever----” He -checked himself, remembering that he was absolutely powerless in -the hands of a man whose name stood for that all was unmerciful. If -there was any kindly feeling left in such a man, Neil would need it. -The trample of feet grew louder, and the brothers waited in silence, -half-concealed by the clump of bushes on which the bonnet had caught. - -Neil was busy with the possibilities of getting away. He looked at his -brother critically, trying to judge what might be expected of him. Hard -living, hard fighting, and cruelty had left strangely slight marks upon -Sandy. His face was almost noble, suggesting possibilities which he was -fast outliving. - -The boy’s head began to whirl with remembrance of the days when he had -toddled at Sandy’s heels; the two had shunned the house where their -mother’s half-crazed talk of revenge left them no peace; they had -stayed in the fields together; sometimes the big boy had teased the -little one, but sometimes he had snatched Neil up and tossed and played -with him, making him blissfully certain that they were of one age and -stature--rough, loving mates. - -Neil’s only bright memories of home were of Sandy. It was because they -were so bright that he had hated the Tory Sandy so much more than any -other Tory; and yet this man, this bushwhacker and marauder, had spoken -of the old days. - -Once Neil leaned forward to ask him if he recalled some trifling -circumstance which stood out with special plainness in his own -recollection, but he could not form the words. Relive the past with a -Tory? He shook his head savagely and looked in the direction of the -approaching troops. - -The soldiers were coming into view round a curve in the road--not -Tarleton’s Legion, but a body of plainly dressed militia such as might -be found in either army, such as might have reinforced Tarleton. For -the space of a breath Sandy and Neil watched them. Then an officer -galloped forward. The brightening daylight struck across his red hair -and large, high-boned face. It was Col. William Campbell leading his -riflemen to Greene. - -Before Sandy could stir Neil caught him by the arm. In their partial -shelter they had not yet been seen. “If you run, I’ll call out your -name and you’ll be a dead man!” he whispered. “That’s Campbell’s -regiment, and you’re my prisoner! Give me back that bonnet. There’s a -message in it to Colonel Campbell from General Greene!” His words grew -swifter with triumph. “Oh, you laughed when I said I’d vowed to capture -you. You were sure it was Tarleton’s regiment----” - -Sandy nodded. For once a surprise had dazed him and he stood quiescent, -realizing that if Neil gave the alarm those grim-faced men would scour -the woods and hunt him down. “Oh, I’m caught!” he acknowledged grimly. -“You’ll have the pleasure of seeing me shot or hanged.” - -“I said I’d capture you,” Neil repeated. “I said no Tory should -live----” Something unexpected choked his words. The vision of deaths -he had seen in the army passed before him, and then of two boys romping -together in a field. It was only an instant, but the love and the hate -of his life struggled together. He began to tremble. - -“The bonnet!” he begged. “If I have the bonnet I can hold their -notice.” - -“You mean you’ll help me off?” Sandy’s voice broke huskily. “Little -Neil--I’ll remember this, I’ll----” But there was no time for words. -He pulled the bonnet from his tunic, turned and walked coolly into the -woods, just as the soldiers caught sight of Neil’s higher figure on the -horse. - -Neil rode to meet the regiment, holding his bonnet in his hands. He -forgot his disguise and saluted like a soldier. - -“Colonel Campbell, I’m not a girl. I’m Neil Davidson, and I’ve brought -you a message from General Greene,” he said. “It’s sewed inside the -bonnet.” - -But the colonel had caught a motion between the trees. “Who’s that -moving off there?” he asked sharply. - -“A man I was talking to,” Neil said. “I was riding fast and my bonnet -flew off. A stranger stepped out of the woods and picked it up for me. -He thought I was a girl, of course, and teased me at first. He wanted -me to kiss him before he’d give it back. I was nearly wild on account -of the message. Then we heard you coming. He stopped teasing and waited -with me until I told him you were my friends.” - -“Humph! It’s pretty evident we weren’t his friends; but I reckon he’s -not worth following!” the colonel commented. He tore open the bonnet, -found the message in it, and troubled himself no more about the man in -the woods. - -“Ah, Neil, you brought them in!” the general said, when Neil reported -to him. As it chanced, the regiment would have arrived just as safely -without the message, yet he let his grave, tired eyes rest approvingly -on the boy. - -Neil had on his own tattered clothes again. His head was as shaggy -and bare as usual, and his brown legs nearly as bare, but there was -something unfamiliar in his face. “Yes, sir,” he answered impetuously. -“I brought them in, but I let the worst Tory in the country go free.” - -Greene smiled half-incredulously. “Why was that?” he asked. - -Neil was silent a moment, and the general saw tears rising in the blue -eyes that he had supposed were always shrewd or fierce. - -“He was my brother!” Neil broke out at last, and because his heart was -so full that he had to tell some one, he told the big, considerate -general the whole story. “And you may do what you please with me, -general,” he ended. “I had to let him go free.” - -The general took the boy’s small, shaking hand. “I don’t think you let -him go _free_, exactly, Neil,” he said. “That minute of mercy will make -him more or less your captive all his life.” - - - - -JOHN PAUL JONES: THE BOY OF THE ATLANTIC[Y] - -By RUPERT S. HOLLAND - - A little Scottish lad dreamed of a great sea fight--of a flag with - red and white stripes, and white stars on a blue field. This story - tells how his dream came true. - - -The summer afternoon was fair, and the waves that rolled upon the north -shore of Solway Firth in the western Lowlands of Scotland were calm and -even. But the tide was coming in, and inch by inch was covering the -causeway that led from shore to a high rock some hundred yards away. -The rock was bare of vegetation, and sheer on the landward side, but on -the face toward the sea, were rough jutting points that would give a -climber certain footholds, and near the top smooth ledges. - -On one or two of these ledges sea-gulls had built their nests, tucked -in under projecting points where they would be sheltered from wind and -rain. Now the gulls would sweep in from sea, curving in great circles -until they reached their homes, and then would sit on the ledge calling -to their mates across the water. Except for the cries of the gulls, -however, the rock was very quiet. The lazy, regular beat of the waves -about its base was very soothing. On the longest ledge, below the -sea-gulls’ nests, lay a boy about twelve years old, sound asleep, his -face turned toward the ocean. - -Either the gulls’ cries or the sun, now slanting in the west, disturbed -him. He did not open his eyes, but he clenched his fists, and muttered -incoherently. Presently with a start he awoke. He rubbed his eyes, and -then sat up. “What a queer dream!” he said aloud. - -The ledge where he sat was not a very safe place. There was scarcely -room for him to move, and directly below him was the sea. But this boy -was quite as much at home on high rocks or in the water as he was on -land, and he was very fond of looking out for distant sailing-vessels -and wondering where they might be bound. - -He glanced along the north shore to the little fishing hamlet of -Arbigland where he lived. He saw that the tide had come in rapidly -while he slept, and that the path to the shore was now covered. He -stood up and stretched his bare arms, brown with sunburn, high over -his head. Then he started to climb down from the ledge by the jutting -points of rock. - -He was as sure-footed as any mountaineer. His clothes were old, so -neither rock nor sea could do them much harm; his feet were bare. He -was short but very broad, and his muscles were strong and supple. When -he came to the foot of the rock he stood a moment, hunting for the -deepest pool at its base, then, loosing his hold, he dove into the -water. - -In a few seconds he was up again, floating on his back; and a little -later he struck out, swimming hand over hand, toward a sandy beach to -the south. - -A young man, wearing the uniform of a lieutenant in the British navy, -stood on the beach, watching the boy swim. When the latter had landed -and shaken the water from him much as a dog would, the man approached -him. “Where on earth did you come from, John Paul?” he asked with a -laugh. “The first thing I knew I saw you swimming in from sea.” - -“I was out on the rock asleep,” said the boy. “The tide came up and cut -me off. And oh, Lieutenant Pearson, I had the strangest dream! I dreamt -I was in the middle of a great sea fight. I was captain of a ship, and -her yard-arms were on fire, and we were pouring broadsides into the -enemy, afraid any minute that we’d sink. How we did fight that ship.” - -The young officer’s eyes glowed. “And I hope you may some day, John!” -he exclaimed. - -“But the strangest part was that our ship didn’t fly the English flag,” -said the boy. “At the masthead was a flag I’d never seen, red and white -with a blue field filled with stars in the corner. What country’s flag -is that?” - -Pearson thought for a moment. “There’s no such flag,” he said finally. -“I know them all, and there’s none like that. The rest of your dream -may come true, but not that about the flag. Come, let’s be walking -back to Arbigland.” - -Although John Paul’s father came of peaceful farmer and fisher folk -who lived about Solway Firth, his mother had been a “Highland lassie,” -descended from one of the fighting clans in the Grampian Hills. The -boy had much of the Highlander’s love of wild adventure, and found it -hard to live the simple life of the fishing village. The sea appealed -to him, and he much preferred it to the small Scotch parish school. His -family were poor, and as soon as he was able he was set to steering -fishing yawls and hauling lines. At twelve he was as sturdy and capable -as most boys at twenty. - -Many men in Arbigland had heard John Paul beg his father to let him -cross the Solway to the port of Whitehaven and ship on some vessel -bound for America, where his older brother William had found a new -home. But his father saw no opening for his younger son in such a life. -All the way back to town that afternoon the boy told Lieutenant Pearson -of his great desire, and the young officer said he would try to help -him. - -The boy’s chance, however, came in another way. A few days later -it chanced that Mr. James Younger, a big ship-owner, was on the -landing-place of Arbigland when some of the villagers caught sight of a -small fishing yawl beating up against a stiff northeast squall, trying -to gain the shelter of the little tidal creek that formed the harbor of -the town. - -Mr. Younger looked long at the boat and then shook his head. “I don’t -think she’ll do it,” he said dubiously. - -Yet the boat came on, and he could soon see that the only crew were a -man and a boy. The boy was steering, handling the sheets and giving -orders, while the man simply sat on the gunwale to trim the boat. - -“Who’s the boy?” asked the ship-owner. - -“John Paul,” said a bystander. “That’s his father there.” - -Mr. Younger looked at the man pointed out, who was standing near, -and who did not seem to be in the least alarmed. “Are you the lad’s -father?” he asked. - -The man looked up and nodded. “Yes, that’s my boy John conning the -boat,” said he. “He’ll fetch her in. This isn’t much of a squall for -him!” - -The father spoke with truth. The boy handled his small craft with -such skill that he soon had her alongside the wharf. As soon as John -Paul had landed Mr. Younger stepped up to the father and asked to be -introduced to the son. Then the ship-owner told him how much he had -admired his seamanship, and asked if he would care to sail as master’s -apprentice in a new vessel he owned, which was fitting out for a voyage -to Virginia and the West Indies. The boy’s eyes danced with delight; he -begged his father to let him go, and finally Mr. Paul consented. The -twelve-year-old boy had won his wish to go to sea. - -A few days later the brig _Friendship_ sailed from Whitehaven, -with small John Paul on board, and after a slow voyage which lasted -thirty-two days dropped anchor in the Rappahannock River of Virginia. - -The life of a colonial trader was very pleasant in 1760. The -sailing-vessels usually made a triangular voyage, taking some six -months to go from England to the colonies, then to the West Indies, and -so east again. About three of the six months were spent at the small -settlements on shore, discharging goods from England, taking on board -cotton and tobacco, and bartering with the merchants. - -The Virginians who lived on their great plantations with many servants -were the most hospitable people in the world, always eager to entertain -a stranger, and the English sailors were given the freedom of the -shore. The _Friendship_ anchored a short distance down the river from -where John Paul’s older brother lived, and the boy immediately went to -see him and stayed as his guest for some time. - -This brother William had been adopted by a wealthy planter named Jones, -and the latter was delighted with the young John Paul, and tried to get -him to leave the sailor’s life and settle on the Rappahannock. But much -as John liked the easy life of the plantation, the fine riding horses, -the wide fields and splendid rivers, the call of the sea was dearer to -him, and when the _Friendship_ dropped down the Rappahannock bound for -Tobago and the Barbadoes he was on board of her. - -Those were adventurous days for sailors and merchants. Money was to be -made in many ways, and consciences were not overcareful as to the ways. -The prosperous traders of Virginia did not mind taking an interest in -some ocean rover bound on pirates’ business, or in the more lawful -slave-trade with the west coast of Africa. For a time, however, young -John Paul sailed for Mr. Younger, and was finally paid by being given a -one-sixth interest in a ship called _King George’s Packet_. - -The boy was now first mate, and trade with England being dull, he -and the captain decided to try the slave-trade. They made prosperous -voyages between Jamaica and the coast of Guinea, helping to found the -fortunes of some of the best-known families of America by importing -slaves. - -After a year, however, John Paul tired of the business, and sold his -share of the ship to the captain for about one thousand guineas. He was -not yet twenty-one, but his seafaring life had already made him fairly -well-to-do. He planned to go home and see his family in Scotland, and -took passage in the brig _John o’ Gaunt_. - -Life on shipboard was full of perils then, and very soon after the -brig had cleared the Windward Islands the terrible scourge of yellow -fever was found to be on the vessel. Within a few days the captain, the -mate, and all of the crew but five had died of the disease. John Paul -was fully exposed to it, but he and the five men escaped it. He was -the only one of those left who knew anything about navigation, so he -took command, and after a stormy passage, with a crew much too small -to handle the brig, he managed to bring her safely to Whitehaven with -all her cargo. He handled her as skilfully as he had the small yawl in -Solway Firth. - -The owners of the _John o’ Gaunt_ were delighted and gave John Paul and -his five sailors the ten per cent. share of the cargo which the salvage -laws entitled them to. In addition they offered him the command of a -splendid full-rigged new merchantman which was to sail between England -and America, and a tenth share of all profits. It was a very fine offer -to a man who had barely come of age, but the youth had shown that he -had few equals as a mariner. - -Good fortune shone upon him. He had no sooner sailed up the -Rappahannock again and landed at the plantation where his brother -lived than he learned that the rich old Virginian, William Jones, had -recently died and in his will had named him as one of his heirs. He -had always cherished a fancy for the sturdy, black-haired boy who had -made him that visit. The will provided that John Paul should add the -planter’s name to his own. The young captain did not object to this, -and so henceforth he was known as John Paul Jones. - -Scores of stories are told of the young captain’s adventures. He loved -danger, and it was his nature to enjoy a fight with men or with the -elements. On a voyage to Jamaica he met with serious trouble. Fever -again reduced the crew to six men, and Jones was the only officer able -to be on deck. A huge negro named Maxwell tried to start a mutiny and -capture the ship for his own uses. He rushed at Jones, and the latter -had to seize a belaying-pin and hit him over the head. The man fell, -badly hurt, and soon after reaching Jamaica died. - -Jones gave himself up to the authorities and was tried for murder -on the high seas. He said to the court: “I had two brace of loaded -pistols in my belt, and could easily have shot him. I struck with a -belaying-pin in preference, because I hoped that I might subdue him -without killing him.” He was acquitted, and soon after offered command -of a new ship built to trade with India. - -The charm of life in Virginia appealed more and more strongly to the -sailor. He liked the new country, the society of the young cities along -the Atlantic Coast, and he spent less time on the high seas and more -time fishing and hunting on his own land and in Chesapeake Bay. He -might have settled quietly into such prosperous retirement had not the -minute-men of Concord startled the new world into stirring action. - -John Paul Jones loved America and he loved ships. Consequently he was -one of the very first to offer his services in building a new navy. -Congress was glad to have him; he was known as a man of the greatest -courage and of supreme nautical skill. - -On September 23, 1779, Paul Jones, on board the American ship _Bon -Homme Richard_, met the British frigate _Serapis_ off the English -coast. A battle of giants followed, for both ships were manned by brave -crews and commanded by extraordinarily skilful officers. The short, -black-haired, agile American commander saw his ship catch fire, stood -on his quarter-deck while the blazing spars, sails, and rigging fell -about him, while his men were mowed down by the terrific broadsides of -the _Serapis_, and calmly directed the fire of shot at the enemy. - -Terribly as the _Bon Homme Richard_ suffered, the _Serapis_ was in -still worse plight. Two thirds of her men were killed or wounded when -Paul Jones gave the signal to board her. The Americans swarmed over the -enemy’s bulwarks, and, armed with pistol and cutlass, cleared the deck. - -The captain of the _Serapis_ fought his ship to the last, but when he -saw the Americans sweeping everything before them and already heading -for the quarter-deck, he himself seized the ensign halyards and struck -his flag. Both ships were in flames, and the smoke was so thick that -it was some minutes before the men realized his surrender. There was -little to choose between the two vessels; each was a floating mass of -wreckage. - -A little later the English captain went on board the _Bon Homme -Richard_ and tendered his sword to the young American. The latter -looked hard at the English officer. “Captain Pearson?” he asked -questioningly. The other bowed. - -“Ah, I thought so. I am John Paul Jones, once small John Paul of -Arbigland in the Firth. Do you remember me?” - -Pearson looked at the smoke-grimed face, the keen black eyes, the fine -figure. “I shouldn’t have known you. Yes, I remember now.” - -Paul Jones took the sword that was held out to him, and asked one of -his midshipmen to escort the British captain to his cabin. He could not -help smiling as a curious recollection came to him. He looked up at the -masthead above him. There floated a flag bearing thirteen red and white -stripes and a blue corner filled with stars. It was the very flag of -his dream as a boy. - -Thus it was that the sturdy Scotch boy, full of the daring spirit of -his Highland ancestors, became the great sea-fighter of a new country, -and ultimately wrote his name in history as the Father of the American -Navy. - - -THE END - - - - - [Illustration] - - THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS - GARDEN CITY, N. Y. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - - -[A] From the _Youth’s Companion_, November 1, 1906. - -[B] From “Chivalric Days,” copyright, 1886, G. P. Putnam’s Sons. - -[C] Reprinted from “Twice Told Tales,” by permission of the Houghton -Mifflin Company. - -[D] From _Harper’s Round Table_, June 25, 1895. - -[E] From WIDE AWAKE, July, 1886. - -[F] From the “Life of George Washington.” - -[G] From the _Youth’s Companion_, February 21, 1907. - -[H] From _Wide Awake_, July, 1890. - -[I] From the “Life of George Washington.” - -[J] From _Wide Awake_, July, 1886. - -[K] Reprinted by permission of the Houghton, Mifflin Company. - -[L] From _Harper’s Young People_. February 21, 1882. - -[M] Copyright by George W. Jacobs & Co. - -[N] From “Around the Hub,” copyright, 1881, by Samuel Adams Drake. -Reprinted by permission of Little, Brown & Company. - -[O] From the _Youth’s Companion_, March 23, 1899. - -[P] From the _Youth’s Companion_, April 20, 1899. - -[Q] From _Harper’s Round Table_, July 9, 1895. - -[R] From “Around the Hub,” copyright, 1881, by Samuel Adams Drake. -Reprinted by permission of Little, Brown & Company. - -[S] From “The Spy.” - -[T] From _Wide Awake_, July, 1886. - -[U] From the _Youth’s Companion_, June 11, 1908. - -[V] From “Stories of the War for Independence.” - -[W] From the _Youth’s Companion_, September 6, 1900. - -[X] From the _Youth’s Companion_, November 22, 1900. - -[Y] From “Historic Boyhoods,” copyright, 1900, by George W. Jacobs & -Company. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHILDREN'S BOOK OF PATRIOTIC -STORIES *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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