“And so must I; but I wish from my heart the boy
was safe home again from his trip to Kingsbridge,”
exclaimed the good soul, with her apron to her eyes.

They then retired to their humble bed, and Providence,
for that night, blessed them with a repose undisturbed
by Cow Boys, Skinners, or red coats.

CHAPTER II.

A LOVE SCENE SPOILED BY AN OLD CONTINENTAL.

[figure description] Page 018.[end figure description]

John and his gentle companion pursued their way
lazily towards the home of the damsel, by a path which
wound through the green meadows along the joyous
stream that twittered blithely as it slipped over the
white pebbles, and was so narrow in some places that
their arms intertwined with each other in spite of
themselves. It is true, they might have walked Indian
file, that is, one before the other, but this never occurred
to either. The long twilight of a summer day
was now gradually subsiding into the deeper shades
of approaching night; the bright star, consecrated to
the queen of love and beauty, hovered low over the
dark outlines of the adjacent hills, and had, for its
companion, the graceful new moon, which, in the form
of a silver Indian bow, hung suspended in the heavens.
Like John and his darling maiden, they seemed alone
in the skies, as the others were on the earth, for the
crowd of lagging stars had not yet made their appearance.
All nature seemed sunk on a bed of down, in
soft, luxurious repose, and the enervating warmth of
the weather, while it deprived the body of its elastic
vigour, made ample amends, by quickening the finer
feelings of the soul to sweeter and brighter

[figure description] Page 019.[end figure description]

aspirations. It was a dangerous hour for the wicked, and
those whose passions tyrannize over all the ties of
faith and duty; but it offered to pure and virtuous affection
only a gentle excitement, which, while adding
to love additional fervour, detracted nothing from its
purity.

They walked for a while without either uttering a
word, for silence is twin sister to love. The young
man was thinking over those dim visions of the future,
which, ever since the commencement of the struggle
for freedom, had shared with Jane the empire of his
heart. The two were, indeed, inseparably associated;
he loved his country and his mistress, and all his hopes
of possessing the one, were founded on serving the
other. The young girl was occupied with her fears
and anticipations. She, indeed, possessed, in common
with the noble race of our revolutionary matrons, that
holy spirit of patriotism which inspired the men of that
memorable era, whose consequences have confounded
the calculations of philosophers who draw their
theories from the past history of mankind. It was
this spirit which animated their resistance, nerved
their arms, inspired their souls, and finally enabled
the peaceful cultivators of the earth to wrest from
boundless wealth, disciplined armies, and almost irresistible
power, the most glorious prize for which nations
ever contended.

But there is in the heart of a true woman, a gentle,
we may say, a happy inclination to yield to the softer
impulses of the heart. They love the brave, and
worship at the shrine of glory; but when the period
arrives for them to choose between the danger of one

[figure description] Page 020.[end figure description]

they love, and the chance of acquiring rank or fame,
amid the perils of war, the sacrifice, if made at all,
is made with fear and anguish, and the penalty of disappointment
paid by a broken heart. Such were the
feelings which checked the tongue of Jane, and repressed
every expression, except what might be augured
from a long and heavy sigh, which ever and anon
heaved in her throbbing bosom. The struggle was
more painful than obstinate, for she had made up her
mind, for sometime, never, let what might come, to
dissuade him from the performance of his duty to his
country.

They were now in sight of the mansion of her
father, which was the best in twenty miles round, and
its owner the greatest man, in his own opinion, in the
county. He had fought in the old French war under
Putnam, and had his leg broken at the scaling of Ticonderoga;
in proof of which honourable achievement,
he limped all the rest of his life, and told the story
every day. Colonel Hammond was a passionate old
gentleman; but this was excusable, since it was observed
by his neighbours, that whenever the colonel
got angry, and swore by “Thunder and Mars,” it was
always a prelude to some act of kindness or generosity.
He was somewhat wilful, as well as way-ward,
having long since lost his wife, who by her
good temper, good sense, and steadiness of purpose
governed both his will and actions, without his having
the slightest suspicion of being, what he scorned
beyond every other species of disgrace, namely,
an obedient husband. He was, withal, somewhat of
a humourist, and being rather addicted to expletives,

[figure description] Page 021.[end figure description]

had adopted a system of swearing, by the aid of which,
he communicated great energy to his conversation,
without breaking a single commandment. We are of
opinion it was altogether original with the good gentleman,
seeing he died before Bob Acres came into the
world. It is only necessary to add, that he was exceedingly
addicted to projects and inventions, none of
which ever proved of the least service to himself or
the world. He admired John, who was a frank, bold,
vivacious fellow; but like many wise men, he liked
him not as a son-in-law, and forgot that his daughter
did not see through his spectacles. John had lately
laughed at a pet invention of the colonel's, for catching
moles, and had been, in consequence, under the ban
of the old gentleman. It was, therefore, prudent for
the young couple to part at the entrance of the little
grove, that screened them from observation. This necessity
unlocked their tongues, and Jane was the first
to speak.

“Let us part, now,” said she, “you know you are in
disgrace, and my father will be angry at seeing us
together.”

“I know it, Jane. He looks down on me now. It
shall not be my fault, if he don't look up to me before
many years are past, if the war continues.”

“You are much given to boasting, lately, John.
Have you dreamed a dream, or seen a vision, or had
your fortune told by Hagar Raven?” asked she, with
a glistening eye.

“No, Jane, I rest my hopes on a fixed determination
to gain your father's consent at all risks, and I know
that to a brave old soldier, like him, there is no

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

recommendation like courage. Night and day, so help
me heaven, I will never rest contented, till I have
done something to deserve your love, and his approbation.
I will never ask you of him, until I feel I deserve
you, and will win my way to your arms or those
of death.

“Oh! don't talk so! You could not bear to think
of death if you loved me. Since—since—what has
passed between us, I never think of death without
shuddering. Before that, I loved none but my father,
but that love did not make me fear death; go now—
and I charge you, as you love me, to take care of yourself.
Do you indeed love me?”

“Love you? ah! dearest Jane, I love you better than
liberty, for I would be your slave. I love you better
than selfish beings love themselves—better than brave
men love danger, or cowards safety. But I must now
leave you. One kiss—but one. I know it is wrong,
but it may be our last.

The parting was sealed by a modest kiss, a parting
embrace. Just at the moment, the colonel, who had
been setting his mole-trap in an adjacent field, having
heard their voices, approached in somewhat of a
towering passion.

“Thunder and Mars!” thought he, “a turtle dove
in white dimity cooing to a mate in gray homespun.
I have told that puppy fifty times he shan't have Jane,
though he never asked me the question, and only the
other day forbid him my house. The young rascal!
to laugh at my mole-trap—and I've told Jane fifty
times a-day, for months past, she shan't marry that
beggarly stripling, so she couldn't possibly forget it.

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

Not but that the puppy's a clever lad, too; the best
rider, the best shot, the best runner and wrestler,
aye, and the best scholar, too, in the county. I believe
he knows more than I do; and as for courage, he'd eat
fire for breakfast, dinner and supper before he'd turn
his back on friend or foe. Confound me, if I don't
sometimes think I like the fellow—but then he's poor—
he wants the one thing needful, without which a man
is no better than an empty purse, or a pocket turned
inside out. What will become of all my improvements
if I am obliged to maintain him and all his brats; for
the poorer a man is, the more is he blessed with
mouths to eat out what little he has? What will become
of my canal from Sawmill to Byram river, which I
mean to make navigable if I can only get water enough?
and what will become of my patent cider press, my
horizontal wheel, and my perpendicular axle-tree? It
wont do—it wont do—I can't spare anything from my
improvements. Hey—what—thunder and fire!”

As the worthy colonel thus communed with the inward
man, the young puppy and the young damsel
were standing still as mice; for though they had gone
through all the preliminaries of a long farewell, they
seemed inclined to begin again. Just at this moment
John wound his trembling arm around the slender
waist of Jane, which, though innocent of whalebone,
was but a span, and drawing her to his bosom,
compressed one more last memento on her rosy lips.
A blush and a tear mingled together on her glowing
cheek, and she reproached him for his freedom, with a
quivering lip. The choleric colonel could endure this
no longer—he came upon them as fast as his lame leg

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

would permit, and was just in time to interrupt the
ceremony of another last farewell.

“Thunder and Mars!” roared he, “what is all this?
I'll send one of you to perdition, and disinherit the
other. So madam—so sir—I say what does all this
mean. Do you take this puppy for a young sapling
that you cling about him like a grape vine? Hey—
confound your pictures, what does all this mean, I
say?”

It would be a subject worthy the deepest investigation
of a philosopher, who had nothing else to employ
him, why it is that the bravest spirit, when detected
in the act of saluting a woman, though ever so
innocently, at night, or what is still more embarrassing,
by the light of the moon—except it be his great-aunt or
his grandmother—looks and feels just for all the world
as if he had been caught robbing a hen-roost. John
could look danger in the face, as an eagle does the
sun; he was as brave as a game chicken, but at this
moment, he could neither flap his wings or crow. He
looked very much like a rooster, who, in country
phrase, “runs under,” when detected by the master
spirit of the farm yard, paying his devoirs to a young
pullet. He was not dead, but he was certainly speechless.
Jane, however, who was accustomed to the
colonel's explosion of wrath, and a woman, besides, retained
more self-possession, and with something like
modest artlessness, replied to his question, of what all
this meant.

“It is only our last parting, dear father.”

“Only our last parting dear father,” reiterated the
colonel—“It looks more like your last meeting, for

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

you seemed as if you never meant to part again. But
where is the puppy going? To join the red coats, I
suppose, or plunder some of the farmers down below—
hey, blood and fire!”

“No, father, he is going to fight for his country.”

“What, between the lines, I suppose—to rob both
sides, hey!—I've a great mind to carry him before that
obstinate old blockhead, Squire Day, and have him
hanged for a Cow Boy.”

“Take care what you say, colonel,” said John,
brushing up at this opprobrious charge.

“Take care what I say? I'll say what I please, and
do what I please on my own ground. I'll seize you
for a trespasser, and lock you up in the cellar, sir, and
then what would you do, hey?”

“Why, colonel, my present impression is, that I
would run away myself, and if possible, persuade Jane
to go with me.”

“You would, would you? Thunder and Mars! I
only wish I was the man I was before the old French
war, when I summoned old Ti, and surrounded a corporal's
guard, that surrendered at discretion. By the
Lord, I'd make you measure land by the yard faster
than you ever did before. Hey! John, did you ever
hear that story of old Ti?”

“Never, that I recollect—at least since you last told
it,” added he, in a low tone—for he knew that nothing
in this world tickled the old continental so much as
telling the story to one who never heard it before.

“Nor read it in history?” asked the colonel.

“Never, sir.”

“What an ignoramus—and what a sieve is history;

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

only it lets out the grain, and retains the chaff. But,
what am I talking about here, when the dew is falling
in showers, and the fog rising like smoke in a battle.
Look you, Jane, do you love this young puppy? Why
don't you answer instead of standing as dumb and as
deaf as a copper-head? Do you love this great scholar,
who never heard of my taking Ticonderoga? Tell
me the honest truth, if a woman can possibly be honest
on such an occasion. Out with it, and don't pretend
to be too modest after what I have just seen.”

It was now Jane's turn to be silent; and in this unnatural,
unfeminine state, she continued, her head
hanging down, and her forehead red with blushes,
though she had answered that question scores of
times to a certain person. The colonel then turned to
John, and proposed the same interrogatory.

“With all my soul, sir—I would die for her if necessary.”

“You would? A bargain—get a halter out of the
stable yonder, and hang yourself only for fifteen minutes,
and on the honour of an old continental, you shall
marry Jane the next hour if you can only make the
responses, and we can find a parson or justice of
peace, who is not a rank tory. Mind, I except Squire
Day, who is such an obstinate old fool, that ten to one,
he will contradict the whole ceremony. What say
you, John?—hey, boy!”

“I say, colonel, that if it were not for Jane, your
lame leg, and your gray hairs, I would answer you not
with a word, but a blow.”

“A blow! Do I live to hear, and does the man live
that threatens me a blow? Thunder and fire! But

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

if you survive the other business, you shall give me
satisfaction. Jane, I'm sorry for you—you'll be a widow
before sunset to-morrow. I say, Jane, how would
you like to lose your sweetheart—hey?”

“How would you like to lose your daughter, sir,”
replied Jane.

“What—hey—is it come to that? Drowning or
poisoning, or pining away to a shadow! Very well—
very exceeding well, my dutiful daughter. You'd
rather he'd shoot your poor old father, I suppose. You'd
prefer being an orphan to a widow—hey? Faith, he's
no beauty, I must confess—he is not as tall and as
straight `as a poplar tree,' nor are `his cheeks as red
as a rose.' He can't jump over a seven rail fence
without touching it with his hand, nor talk sentiment
like a ballad monger, nor lie like an almanac maker.
He's past say, as the French used to call it at Old Ti.
But to the point. Do you love this most respectful
puppy, who threatens to knock your father on the
head, except for two or three substantial reasons? Out
with it—tell the truth, which I know before hand.
Remember, there never has been a lie told in my family
since the declaration of independence. Do you
love him, I say?”

“I can't deny it, father, with the same lips that have
often uttered the confession.”

“Upon my word! Signed, sealed, and delivered, as
that obstinate old blockhead, Squire Day, says. But
it won't do, I tell you, it won't do. The conveyance
is not legal; and you, sir,” turning short on John, “you
will accept the conveyance of this dutiful daughter,
hey?”

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

“When I have made myself worthy of her, and not
before,” replied John. “I mean to gain a reputation
equal to that of the brave officer, her father, before I
ask him to give me his daughter.”

“Hum—brave officer—that's sensibly said, but it
won't do, John—you must make yourself rich, and
then you will be worthy in my sight.”

“Rich, sir! I never thought of that. I mean to
serve my country—that will make me worthy of any
man's daughter.”

“Ha! ha! hum—well, John, I can't but say I like
your idea. I am a cool, calculating man, as all the
world allows, except that obstinate old blockhead,
Squire Day, who, by-the-bye, I suspect is a rank tory
in his heart. I shouldn't be surprised if he had a
British protection in his pocket at this moment. And,
John—Thunder and Mars! what are you gaping at
that girl for, instead of listening to what I am saying?”

“I was only reading her thoughts, sir.”

“Well, and what may she be thinking about?”

“She was thinking how you could be so cruel as to
bring tears in the eyes, and sorrow to the heart, of one
who has been your solace in health, your nurse in sickness,
and, to the utmost extent of her duty and affection,
has supplied to you the loss of her dear mother.”

This touched the old continental to the quick. He
cherished the memory of his wife, who had been a
kind and gentle mate, and was accustomed to tell Jane
how much she resembled her mother.

“Well, Johnny,” said the colonel, after a pause, “I
am a reasonable man, only a little too easy tempered.

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

Now, you puppy, listen to me, and don't dare to turn
even the corner of your eye on that girl until I have
done. You know, John, I am rich and you are poor,
and that I shall be ten times richer when I have finished
my canal and other great improvements—you
young rascal, I see you peeping! I say, when I have
finished my canal and other improvements, I shall be
as rich as old Fred Phillips before his property was all
confiscated.”

“That will be some time after the last trumpet
sounds,” quoth Master John.

“What's that you are mumbling, you puppy?”

“Something about a trumpet, sir.”

“Well, as I was saying, John, I am rich. I don't
wish to hurt your feelings, but you are what I should
call, as it were, comparatively a beggar.”

“Beggar!” cried John, indignantly. “Do you think
that with arms like mine, and a heart to use them, a
man can be called a beggar? Sir, I shall never beg
anything of you but your daughter.”

“Be quiet—confound that red-pepper temper of
yours; I wonder Jane ever ventures to come near
you. As I was saying, Jane will have a fine time
with you—you're always taking people up before they
are down. I tell you I don't mean the least offence,
and yet you will fly out upon me. But as I was saying,
your grandfather is a beggar, without a shilling
to help himself with; your father is a beggar, and
will be as long as continental money lasts; you are a
beggar, and your children's children, to the fourteenth
generation, for aught appears to the contrary, will be
beggars, if you marry without my consent. I'll

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

disinherit Jane, by the Lord Harry! Do you hear me,
John?”

“I do, sir. I have listened with the deepest attention,
and, if you wish it, will answer you.”

“Go on—let me hear some of your school logic, you
blockhead.”

“This is my answer, colonel. You say you are rich,
and so you are. But by what tenure do you hold
your wealth? Every day and every night, you are
exposed to the inroads of a set of unprincipled plunderers,
sparing neither friend or foe. Before to-morrow
morning, your fields may be laid waste, your cattle
driven away, your barns and house set on fire, and
your life, as well as that of your daughter and your
dependants, sacrificed without mercy. If you escape
these midnight ruffians, it rests alone with such men
as my father is, and I intend to be, to save you from
being hanged as a traitor, and your property becoming
the spoil of some recreant tory. Will you boast of
possessions you hold by such a flimsy tenure as this?
Let me tell you, Colonel Hammond, that in times like
these, the man who possesses the hand and the heart
to defend his native land, is of more worth than hoarded
wealth, rich harvest-fields, herds of defenceless
sheep and cows, or a splendid palace, which he cannot
defend himself, and must rely on poor beggars,
like me, to protect from violation. Sir, I am a man—
and men are worth their weight in gold when an
enemy is lording it over the land, and only brave
hearts and determined hands can expel him. I own
my family is become poor, but we are not beggars,

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

for we have land, and the power to make it productive.”

There was so much truth, urged with such a manly
spirit, in this harangue, that the colonel was deeply
affected by the picture thus presented to his contemplation.
He fell into a train of brief reflection, at the
end of which, he said with frank good-humour—

“Well, John, on one condition, I give my consent.”

“Name it sir—shall I eat fire?”

“Eat a bull-frog, you blockhead, as the Frenchmen
used to do at old Ti—at least, so the English said—as
I observed before, John, you have neither money, rank
or reputation, except just among the girls and boys of
the neighbourhood. The husband of the only daughter
of Colonel Hammond, an old continental officer,
with money in his pocket, and lands at his back, ought
to be somebody. Now, John, you say you are going
to fight for your country, that makes every man a
gentleman. Go and offer yourself to Washington, and
do something to merit an honourable place in history,
and Thunder and Mars! my daughter, my money, my
lands and improvements, shall be yours. What say
you, you puppy?”

“I say, colonel, your hand to the bargain. If I don't
stake life, limb and liberty—heart and soul on this
game, call me not only beggar, but coward, if you will.
Your word and your hand, Colonel Hammond.”

“There—take it if you dare. Come to me with the
voice of your country in your favour, and the approbation
of the great Washington, and by the Lord Harry,
if I had a dozen girls, you should marry them all—
shouldn't he, Jane?”

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

“Not with my consent, father. I would forbid the
bans.”

“What, hey!—you'd have him all to yourself, would
you?”

“Even so, sir. I shall give all, and expect all in
return.”

“Quite a reasonable young woman,” said the colonel.
“But come, John, there is no time to be lost; the
fate of our country hangs by a hair, and she wants
every true heart, every strong arm, to sustain her.
Lose not a day. Life is short, my boy, and the hours
of a soldier are numbered.”

“Too true,” answered Jane; “and his will be briefer
than the common lot, I fear. Father, you have
put him on the track of death,” and the tears gushed
from her eyes.

“Track of a fiddlestick! Why, girl, I once had six
and thirty muskets pointed at me at once, and they all
missed fire, owing to the dampness of the priming.
They hissed, and fizzled, and funked like fury, but I
escaped as it were by a miracle. If they had all gone
off, you might have converted my skin into a cullender.
Never fear, Jane—never fear; a man can't die but
once, and then not before his time comes. Think of
the muffled drum—the funeral march to the tune of
Roslin Castle; the long lines of soldiers, with their
arms reversed—their eyes bent on the ground—the
minute guns at a distance—the cocked hat and sword
on the coffin, and the six rounds fired over the grave
of the gallant soldier. Thunder and Mars! but it's a
glorious thing to die for our country.”

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

“Glorious to him, but death to those that love him,”
sighed poor Jane.

“Now, John, go and prepare yourself, and don't let
me see that face of yours again till you have fulfilled
your part of the contract, and won the good word of
Washington. I served with him in Braddock's war,
and dare say, he will recollect me. But once more
away, boy, and remember while you are doing your
duty to your country, you are at the same time winning
your way to the arms of love and beauty. Is'nt
she a jewel—a rose-bud—John.”

“To my eye the fairest, to my heart the dearest of
all created beings, sir. But, I must leave you now. I
have an engagement to go out on a sky-larking party
to-night, with some of our lads. We mean to scour
the country as far as Kingsbridge. Perhaps we may
pick up some straggler, or gather some information
that may be useful at head quarters.”

“Right, John, I wish this timber leg of mine would
let me go with you, as my experience might be useful.
But, John, don't forget that this reasonable young
lady must have all or nothing. None of your sparking,
by the way—hey!”

“Let this be my answer, sir,” saying which, he approached
Jane, and folding her in his arms, gave her
a farewell kiss.”

“Why, Thunder and Mars!” exclaimed the old continental;
“what do you mean, you puppy? you are
reckoning your chickens before they are hatched.
What! before my face—how dare you presume, sir.
If the young rascal had not done it, I'd have kicked
him.” added the colonel, aside.

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

“Despair and hope, are no cowards, sir. One fears
nothing, the other expects every thing. If I return, as
I trust I shall with credit, you will forgive this freedom;
if I return no more, let the offences of the dead
rest in the grave. Once more, farewell, my dearest
Jane.”

“I cannot say what I wish,” sobbed Jane. “But,
oh! do not forget that in your resolution to gain me,
you may lose yourself.”

“Not another word—ah! that confounded twinge!
I knew I should be the worse for standing in the damp
here. Enough said, you young fools. John, an old
continental gives you his blessing, and here's my hand,
boy, that I will keep my word; see that you keep
yours. Good bye, my lad,”—and the colonel led his
sorrowing daughter home.

John watched till they were lost in the shadows of
evening, and then burst into an extempore of love and
enthusiasm, as was his custom, from having no one to
talk with the greater portion of his time.

“Now,” cried he, “now my good heart, and good
right hand, be true as steel this once. And you, my
twin darlings, equally dear, liberty and my Jane, inspire
me. If I halt or falter, or turn my back, may
my country disown, and my mistress desert me!”

These, and such like animating thoughts occupied
his mind, as he hastened towards home to fit himself
for the night adventure. His step assumed new firmness;
his heart swelled with a bright train of anticipation,
and his character at once became strengthened
and exalted by the inspiring influence of a fixed and
noble purpose. He was now a man and a hero.

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

Returning to the old stone-house, he quietly procured his
equipments, without disturbing the old couple, who,
with their little handmaid, went to roost with the
fowls, and rose with the sun.

CHAPTER III.

A SKY-LARKING.

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

The rendezvous of the sky-larking party, was at a
house standing apart from the post road, in a retired
valley, commonly called Hungry Hollow, and sometimes
Hard Scramble Hole, a name aptly indicative
of the place and its inhabitants. In almost every district
of country, and every town, of any considerable
magnitude, there will be found some peculiar spot,
where the idle, the dissipated and the worthless, as it
were instinctively, or by some irresistible sympathy,
congregate together, to prey upon the neighbourhood
and each other. This was the case with Hungry Hollow,
into whose sheltering bosom had crept some
dozen families of children of the night, who, as was
said of them, slept while others worked, and worked
while others slept. All day, they might be found
lounging in bed, or sunning themselves in summer,
and in winter crouching in the chimney corner, by a
fire of such decayed wood as they could procure without
the labour of cutting down trees. But to make up
for thus killing time in the day, report said that they
laboured hard at night, when, like animals of prey, they
sallied forth to the infinite annoyance of the surrounding
country, committing various petty depredations,

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

hardly aspiring to the dignity of crimes. Whether
they deserved all that was said of them, is doubtful.
But, certain it is, they had a bad name, which is enough
to bring both dog and man into perpetual trouble.

Hungry Hollow, was, moreover, infamous for its
ghosts, goblins, and all the dire array of rural superstition,
partly, in all probability, from its situation, and
partly from a disposition in the occupants to discourage
interlopers from coming among them, to spy out the
nakedness of the land. It was a lonely place, and
solitude is the nurse of terror. A ruined church, with
broken windows, decayed doors, without hinges,
weather-beaten sides, and moss-grown roof, stood nodding
to its fall, in the midst of a few old gray-beard
hemlocks, under whose melancholy shade was the
burial place, designated here and there by a rough
unsculptured stone, most ingenously diverging from
the perpendicular. Not one of these bore letter or
epitaph; for, such was the character of most of those
buried in this unconsecrated spot, that Zoroaster Fisk,
the stone-cutter, could never bring himself to prostitute
his muse to the celebration of their virtues. We
mention this, as a fact honourable to his integrity,
and deserving the imitation of all those whose vocation
it is to immortalize the dead. A lie on a tomb-stone,
is the worst of lies. It endures for a century,
and furnishes perpetual encouragement to rogues,
by affording ocular demonstration that he who has
lived a life of worthlessness and crime, may yet leave
behind him a good name. The grave, and those who
speak in its name, should tell nothing but the honest
truth, or else be silent. The upper extremity of

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

Hungry Hollow, that is, the part most distant from the
high road, was especially infested with the airy creations
of fear and fancy, and avoided by all honest
people. Once in a great while, you might persuade
a couple of strapping country lads, of the strongest
nerves, to venture through it by night, but then you
may be sure they always carried a great piece of
fox-fire, to light them on their way, and, instead of
talking, sung or whistled with all their might, “my
name was Captain Kyd,” or “in Scarlet Town, where
I was born,” or some other equally inspiring ditty, to
keep up their courage.

It was indeed a gloomy vale, through which a lazy
brook, of dark brown water, meandered silent and slow.
Shaded with tangled foliage, and bordered beyond by
precipices of mouldering rocks, that seemed to have got
the start of the rest of the world, in the race of swift
decay. A score of awful legends, which we may one
day collect for the edification of this story-loving age,
were about the only product of this barren spot, where
neither squirrel, fox, weazel, or pole-cat, was ever
known to abide. No cricket, it was said, ever chirped
there; no honey-bee ever gathered its tribute from the
coarse, unfragrant flowers; nor did the capricious
butterfly, in all its vagrant excursions, ever tarry a
moment there. At that time, the interior of this valley
was as little known, as that of New Holland or
Japan.

The house where our sky-larkers were to meet, being
just at the entrance of Hungry Hollow, was presumed
to be out of the sphere of diabolical influence.
It was erewhile the abode of one Case—or Cornelius

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

Boshin, who, some few years before, had decamped,
no one knew whither, with some half a dozen strapping
night-walkers, leaving only his wife and youngest
boy in possession of the premises. The widow,
as she called herself, and the son, now full grown,
lived after the manner of their forefathers; young
Case, being religiously brought up to “nothing,” according
to country phrase, and his mother still despising
labour, from the bottom of her heart. Tradition
has preserved an anecdote, highly illustrative
of their character. A neighbour, passing one
day, and seeing Mrs. Boshin sitting in all her glory,
sunning herself under an old tottering piazza, shaped
like a cocked hat, cried out, “well widow, as usual,
nothing to do, I see.” To which she replied—“no, the
Lord be praised, we have nothing to eat, and no fire
to cook it with.” On another occasion, a strnager had
been driven to take shelter there for the night, and rising
early in the morning, indulged in a ramble about the
house before breakfast. On his return, he took the
liberty of expressing his wonder how people could live
in such a place as Hungry Hollow. “Why,” replied the
widow, “when we have nothing else to live on, we live
upon each other—and when we can't live upon each
other, we live on strangers, like you.” To make good
her words, she charged a hundred dollars, continental
money, for his night's lodging and breakfast. Events
hereafter to be detailed, render it proper to state, that
John had once given young Case a most exemplary
drubbing, for affirming that Jane Hammond was no
beauty, and the old continental a tory. Case never
forgave him.

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

The path which led from Hungry Hollow, towards
the south, passed down a long sloping descent to the
high road, which here ran close to the Hudson. The
retired situation of the house, rendered it a safe place
for the party to arrange their operations, and there was
a high peaked hill close by, which commanded the
country round, a distance of several miles. By the time
it grew dark, a party of some eight or ten, all belonging
to the neighbourhood, and all well known to
each other, was collected, waiting the arrival of John.
There was Brom Vanderlip, who had once outrun a
party of Yagers, though they were mounted, and he on
foot. There was Barnabas Pudney, of Buttermilk Hill,
who had been a prisoner in the old sugar-house, Liberty-street,
now so called, whence he escaped, by becoming
so thin, through a process, well understood by
old Cunningham, the provost, that as he affirmed, he
had escaped through a rat hole. There was Billy Sniffen,
who could find his way, blindfold, as he often boasted,
from Peekskill to Kingsbridge. There was Ira
Root, commonly called Bitter Root, from being somewhat
quick on the trigger. There was a tough gray
headed farmer, whose nickname was Nighthawk, which
originated from a famous exploit performed during a
dark night against a band of Skinners. And lastly,
there was Zoroaster Fisk, A. M., a composer and
cutter of inscriptions, and various affecting devices, with
which the pride or affection of the living loves to
decorate the memorials of the dead. He excelled all
men of his time, in Dutch cherubs, with narrow foreheads
and chubby cheeks; his weeping willows often
brought tears to the eyes of sentimental explorers of

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

church yards; and for an urn, or a monumental pillar,
he was reckoned inimitable. It was credibly, moreover,
reported by his surviving cotemporaries, that he
composed epitaphs in prose and rhyme, one of which
is still extant in the burial ground of the little church
erected by the ancient family of the Phillipses, and
reads as follows:

We are aware that this has been claimed as the
joint production of the mayor and corporation of some
city, whose name we have forgotten, but there is positive
evidence that it belongs to our friend, Zoroaster.
But, alas! what now availed his skill in Dutch cherubs,
weeping willows, urns and pillars, or monumental
inscriptions! Othello's occupation was gone. At the
time of which we are speaking, people died or were
killed by the red coats, the Yagers, the Tories, the
Skinners and the Cow Boys, but it was lucky if they
found a grave, much less an epitaph.

Others of lesser name and note, completed the party
which had thus volunteered to serve their country
without the prospect of fame or reward. There were
many, very many such men in these times; and it is to
the sentiment by which they were inspired, that all
succeeding generations will be indebted for the freedom
they enjoy. The armies of the United States
would have little availed in the struggle, had the
yeomanry been disaffected. These rustic adventurers
had neither commander, nor any distinctions of rank
other than personal qualities; each man fought his
own fight, and was his own master on all ordinary

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

occasions; but in times of great peril, instinct pointed
out a leader, and the master spirit was always found to
be the man. The party was anxiously waiting for John,
whose long interview with the old continental, had
delayed him somewhat beyond the hour appointed.

“What can have become of John?” at length exclaimed
Billy Sniffen; “he is not commonly always
Jack-come-last.”

“Why,” replied, Barnabas Pudney, who spoke most
particularly through his nose, and with great deliberation:
“Why, I rather calculate I saw him just about
sundown—or it might be—yes, I calculate it might be,
if I don't mistake, somewhere thereabouts, more or
less—I wont be quite positive, though, but I believe—I
rather calculate it might have been him.”

“Barnabas, my son,” quoth old Nighthawk, with
much gravity, “where did you larn to talk? I reckon
it must have been of a snail, for you speak for all the
world as if you were on a snail's gallop. You should
never go for a soldier, for you'd have your head cut off
before you could cry quarter.”

“No—no,” said Brom Vanderlip, “his speech came
with a dead march, or a slow-match; I don't know
which. He was seven years old before he could say
mammy.”

“I'll swear he must have larned of a conch shell,”
cried Joe Satchell.

“Pooh!” rejoined Dick Widgery, “he would out-talk
a rifle bullet, if he could only git his words to come out
of his mouth stead of his nose. It's got such a darnation
way to go round, its a great while a coming.”

Barnabas cut short the joke, by offering to wager a

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

drink, that he could repeat the first lines of the declaration
of independence in less time than any man in company.
The wager was taken, and Barnabas distanced,
the first round, amid a shower of dry jokes. Accordingly,
Mrs. or Miss Boshin, as they called her—was
roused from her usual inactivity, to give an account of
the contents of her cellar, which proved to be nothing
but the remains of a barrel of hard cider, a liquor
since become classical. It was first handed to old
Nighthawk, who tasted it, smacked his lips, and pronounced
it emphatically, “man's cider, real red
streak.”

“Come—come,” exclaimed Barnabas—“no preaching
over your liquor, daddy—pass round the mug, will
you?” Barnabas took a pull, whereupon his eyes nearly
started out of his head, and the liquor spirted out of
his nostrils incontinently.

“Red streak!” cried he—“I swan, a feller might
jist as well try to swallow a sword with two edges
It must be real crab-apple, it bites so. Is this the best
youv'e got, Miss Boshin?”

“The very best—I bought it of old Squire Day, and
gin him two hundred continental dollars for it. But
the money is not worth much more than half what it
was then, and that's some little comfort for being
cheated.”

“Consarn continental money,” rejoined Barnabas:
“Its going down hill like a run-away wagon, and
the farther it goes the faster it runs. I don't believe
Nighthawk could have overtaken it the time he ran
away from the Yagers.

“You got ahead of me, for all that, though,” replied

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

the other; “and as for Brom Vanderlip, he ran me out
of sight in less than no time.”

“I'll swear pine blank to that,” quoth Bitter Root—
“I'll bet ten to one on Brom when the Yagers are behind,
stead of before. He's jist like your full-blooded
colt, that always wins the race if she can only once
git ahead.

“Well, well,” replied Brom, “see who goes ahead tonight.
If I don't put my nose in the enemy's lines before
the cock crows, you may tell me on't when I'm
dead, that's all.”

“You'll never get your nose anywhere but where it
is now, right in the middle of your face, only a little
on one side;” which joke, though on the whole rather
an indifferent one, turned the tide against Brom, who
was fated to endure a tempest of horse-laughter, reinforced
by half a dozen curs without, who began barking
furiously. The merriment of the party ceased in
a moment, for in these times the barking of the watch-dogs
was too often the signal of plunder, outrage, and
murder. Each man seized his gun, and stood on the
defensive with grim and silent determination, for they
were inured to dangers, and feared nothing but ghosts
and hobgoblins. After a pause of a few moments,
footsteps were heard approaching; the barking of the
dogs gradually lapsed into a growl of doubtful recognition,
and the latch was slowly lifted. The door had,
however, been fastened inside, and the attempt was
followed up by a loud, quick knocking with the butt
end of a gun.

“Who are you?” cried old Nighthawk.

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

“I'll tell you directly, if you don't open the door,”
answered a hoarse voice with a foreign accent.

“It's the bloody infernal Yagers,” whispered old
Nighthawk. “Now, my boys, stand to your arms.
Let them break in, if they dare, and I'll be blamed if
we don't give them a grist.” All followed his directions,
and an anxious pause ensued, during which, the
landlady, who was not unused to such scenes, occupied
herself very deliberately in hiding a paper of pins,
a few pewter spoons, and other valuables, under a
loose plank of the floor.

The knocking now became louder, and the rough
demand for entrance was repeated more vociferously
in broken English. Whereupon, little Barnabas Pudney,
who came originally from down east, and was
what is called “a curious cretur,” crept slily to a front
window, through a crack in the shutters of which he
saw, by the light of the stars, something which caused
him to burst into a laugh exceedingly sonorous and
exhilarating.

“I'm a nigger,” cried he, “if it an't John.”

The whole party within set up a great shout, with
the exception of old Nighthawk, who, on opening the
door, welcomed him as follows:

“I'll tell you what, youngster, you'd best take keer
how you play these tricks upon travellers in these
times. A little more of your fun, and you'd have bin
a dead man, laughing on the wrong side of your mouth.
This is no time for playing Yager. Blame me if I
wa'nt going to set old Maple-Sugar on trigger,” so he
called his old musket, the stock of which was of maple;
“you played the Yager pretty well, and had like

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

to have got a Yager's bitters. It's all wrong, Johnny,
my son.”

“I know it,” replied John, but I wanted to try your
spunk.”

“Spunk! hasn't it been pretty well tried already?”
said the other.

“Only hear how the young chicken crows,” said
Bitter Root; “I'll bet a gallon of Miss Boshin's red
streak, his sneakers are up as high as the top of the
big white-wood-tree before the cock crows to-morrow
morning.”

“You will—will you?” retorted John, and his eye
kindled. But he thought of the necessity of preserving
good-fellowship, and contented himself with adding—
“The proof of game, is when the gaff sticks—
we shall see who cackles first.”

The party being now complete, sallied forth about
the hour of ten of a still, starry night, at which time
all the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, except the
watchful wights of Hungry Hollow, had gone to rest.
Their course led them past the old grave-yard of the
decayed church we have noted, and as they drew nigh,
they might be seen to close their ranks and huddle together,
each essaying to get on the outer side. “I wish
you wouldn't push a fellow so,” said Billy Sniffen to
Zoroaster Fisk, in an impatient whisper, as Zoe pushed
him against a rock by the roadside. At any other
time, there would have been some joking at the expense
of the stone-cutter, but now the scene, and the
impressions to which it gave rise, impressed on all the
silence of superstitious awe. In the dim twilight of
the starry night, they could distinguish the rustic

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

tomb-stones, and rough-hewn slabs of mouldering wood,
which told their errand there without the aid of epitaphs,
and the sight cowed the vivacity of the gallant
sky-larkers, who, though they had often looked death
in the face, were sorely afraid of dead men, and especially
their ghosts.

“W—w—w—at in the name of goody gracious, is
that there?” suddenly exclaimed Barnabas Pudney.

“What—where?” answered half a dozen voices.

“There! just there, by the old church—don't you
see something as white as a sheet, standing, as I calculate,
right on the very spot where Sampson Mussey,
who was killed by the Skinners, is intarred?” and
thereupon Barnabas blew his nose with a sonorous
twang, in the true conch-shell style, which signal was
answered by a white cow standing right on the spot
where Sampson Mussey was interred. This discovery
drew a laugh upon Barnabas, and was followed by a
dispute about who was most frightened. It served to
raise the spirits of the party, by relieving them from
some exceeding solemn impressions which such scenes
are eminently calculated to inspire, and they gaily
pursued their way towards Kingsbridge, bantering
Barnabas about his ghost.

The night was still as death. No lights burnt in
the desolate, abandoned houses, that here and there
dotted the scene, and the surface of the expanding
river, which here presented all the features of lake
scenery, was as smooth as a glassy mirror reflecting
all the glories of the skies above. No vessel lay at
anchor, or floated lazily along with the tide, on the
surface of the melancholy wave: not a sail whitened

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

the dead, monotonous scene, and life and all the business
of life seemed to have reached a pause that
looked like extinction itself. The lofty outlines of
the opposite shore, waned beneath the twinkling sentinels
of night, but their sides were clothed in deep obscurity.
The peaceful Dutchmen were fast asleep,
for they could sleep in peace, since the broad river interposed
between them and their enemies, who were
carrying their devastations in other directions.

Our sky-larkers passed on briskly, without pausing
to admire the sober, solemn beauties of the scene, for
they had other thoughts in their heads, and other purposes
in their hearts. Anon they came opposite to
those glorious walls, bordering the western margin of
the river, and presenting an everlasting barrier to its
expansion. At this moment, a bright light shot
athwart the clear expanse of the heavens, and startled
the night-adventurers, who halted to ascertain
whence it proceeded. They saw the entire firmament
towards the north streaked with sheets of living fire,
that leaped up, and danced among the winking stars,
which seemed to grow pale at their superior brilliancy.
It could not be the lightning, for there was not a cloud
in the sky. It was an awful sight, and the whole
party stood gazing in something more than silent
wonder.

Ever and anon streams and rolling waves of living
light flashed across the starry vault of heaven, succeeded
by the gambols of what are called the Merry
Dancers, flourishing and skirring about in a thousand
fantastic vagaries, and with a speed as swift as thought
or fancy. For a while, the earth shone as if at

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

noon-day, or rather beneath the silver radiance of the moon;
but by degrees a rich and ruddy pink, succeeded by a
deep crimson hue, stole over the sky, tinging the
heavens and the earth with a rosy tint, which, however
rich and beautiful, smote the hearts of all but
John with awful apprehensions. They began to fancy
they could detect, in this fantastic frolic of the spheres,
various forms of terror and dismay flitting about among
the stars; and embodied in their affrighted imagination
a scene somewhat allied to the state of the country,
as well as the dangers by which they were surrounded.
They distinguished through the mists of
fearful visions, armies fighting in the air; steeds encountering
with resistless fury; columns of soldiers,
in red coats, charging like lightning athwart the fiery
heavens; and fancied all the dread array of bloody
war raging among the stars and planets, as though the
host of heaven were engaged in hot contention disputing
the empire of the upper world.

“The Highlands must be on fire!” said old Nighthawk,
at length recovering his speech.

“The sky is in a blaze,” muttered Barnabas Pudney.

“The world is coming to an end!” exclaimed Billy
Sniffen.

“It is a token and a warning,” rejoined Zoroaster
Fisk, solemnly.

“Pooh!” said John, “it is only the aurora borealis.”

“The what?” cried all at once.

“The light in the north.”

“You may call it what you will,” responded Zoroaster,
“but I say it is a token and a warning.”

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

“Pooh!” quoth Bitter Root, “he begins to smell
Spuyten Duyvel.”

“I reckon it's a worse devil than that. It's jist for
all the world what granny seen the year before the
war, when the sky all turned to blood, one night, and
armies were seen fighting, helter-skelter, some in red
coats and some in blue.”

“Which beat, Zoe?” asked John, jeeringly.

“I tell you it's no laughing matter, Johnny. I seed—
no, granny did—more than a hundred thousand men,
cutting and slashing at one another in the sky in a
most awful manner, till it all run with blood. You
could see the smoke of the great guns, and some people
conceited they could smell gunpowder. After the
battle was over, a voice cried out from the clouds—
`War, bloody war!' and then—”

“Did you see all this, yourself?”

“No, but granny did, for she has often told me so,
and she was as pious a woman as any man's mother,
for that matter. So I'm for going right straight hum
agin, for it stands to reason it's a token and a warning.
It's flying in the face of Scripture to go down to
Kingsbridge agin such a sky as that. There! there!
I swear—I mean, I swan—I'm a nigger if I don't think
I seed some letters there, as plain as on a head-stone.
There's a great W, as long as from here to New
York.”

“Zoe, did you ever hear of the old cow on Long
Island, that told the woman who was milking her,
we should have war soon?”

“Yes, granny told me that, too, and how an old hen

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

laid an egg, with W—A—R on the shell, in capital
letters three inches long.”

“It must have been a goose-egg, Zoe,” said John.
“But come, boys, this is wasting precious time. The
light in the north has no more to do with what we are
about, than the light of the stars. You that are frightened,
may run home if you please, but I am for going
on let who will follow.”

So saying, he dashed forward in a quick step, and
the whole party, not excepting Zoroaster Fisk, followed,
ever and anon looking back over their shoulders
to see how matters were going on in the sky. By degrees,
the leaping columns of light grew dimmer and
dimmer; the bloody tints faded away; the sky assumed
its ethereal hue; and the stars twinkled their
sleepy lustre alone in the heavens, leaving the party
of sky-larkers to pursue their way by their glimmering
light.

They were now ascending the high hills which command
a view of both the Hudson and East rivers, and
on arriving at the summit, halted to reconnoitre the
country round, as far as the obscurity of night would
permit.

“Look there! another Rory Bolus!” exclaimed Billy
Sniffen, pointing to a great light towards the east.

“No, no,” rejoined old Nighthawk, “that's another
guess sort of a light than what we saw just now. It's
a house or barn a-fire, I reckon.”

“Then the red coats, or the Yagers, or tories, or
some of the rascally Skinners are out to-night,” said
John. “Now, boys, is the time to do something for
liberty. Let us make for the spot. It is not far off,

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

and I know the house. It is poor old Ira Tebow's, if
I'm not mistaken. Come, follow on; follow on, boys,
and be still as mice, for ten to one we meet the rascals
on the way.”

“I told you something would happen; but howsomever,
here goes. I'm for one of you,” cried Zoroaster.

They now proceeded forward briskly, and in dead
silence, or only communed in whispers. There was
no occasion for a commander, or word of command;
each was expert in this mode of partisan warfare, and
all were left to their own discretion and experience.
A walk of some half an hour brought them to the
brow of a lesser hill, overlooking the little vale of
Sawmill river, which gave them full view of the light
proceeding from a barn, now nearly consumed to ashes.
The house was beyond the reach of conflagration, being
at some distance, and was built of red-stone, such
as is found on the western shore of Tappan bay.
They saw a light through the window, paused to consult
as to their best course of action, and the conversation
ended in deciding to dispatch one of the party
to reconnoitre the ground. John volunteered his services,
and his offer was accepted.

With the cautious silence of a cat, he approached,
and the first objects he descried were six or eight horses
tied to a fence in front of the house, which indicated
the number of visiters within. Having ascertained
that no one was on the watch without, he crept softly
to the window, and peeping in, a scene was disclosed
that set his blood on fire. A party of Yagers were
carousing at a table on the plunder of the peaceable
old man, who, with his gray-haired wife, sat looking

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

on in the silent acquiescence of despair, while two
grown up daughters were waiting on the plunderers,
now half-drunk with cider. One of them, at length,
on a sudden rose from the table, and seizing the elder
of the girls about the waist, rudely kissed her pallid
cheek, which in an instant reddened with the indignant
flush of maiden modesty. The old couple groaned,
and John ground his teeth and grasped his sword, as
the girl, outraged by still more unmanly indecorums,
no longer able to repress her feelings, pushed the ruffian
from her with such good-will, that he fell against
the table, overset it, and extinguished the lights. A
torrent of imprecations, in a foreign tongue, now broke
forth from the insolent intruders; they started up, and
groping about for their swords, threatened murder in
every breath, while the weak voices of the aged couple
were heard begging for mercy amid the furious
uproar. John could bear it no longer. All thought
of his comrades, himself, or his danger, evaporated in
a moment, in the heat of his rage, and leaping through
the window, in an instant he was cutting and slashing
among the ruffian crew. There was no danger of
hitting a friend, for the occupants of the house would
no doubt flee, and all the rest were fair game. Though
alone, the advantage was on his side, for he was armed;
while the Yagers, having laid aside their swords,
were groping about for them in the dark, sputtering
unintelligible imprecations.

The party of sky-larkers, who began to wonder
what had become of John, now distinguished the uproar
of voices, accompanied by the clashing of swords,
mingled with groans and imprecations, as the invisible

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

enemy smote one after another the stupified plunderers,
now rushed forward to the scene of action. Here
they discovered two of the Yagers just on the point
of mounting their horses, but horse they never mounted
more. They were cloven down without mercy, for
they deserved none. They warred against the helplessness
of age, the innocence of youth, the property
of men, the chastity of women, and could claim none
of the courtesies of honourable warfare. This done,
they made their way into the house, where old Nighthawk
ran plump against John, who was still seeking
his enemies, and made a blow at him which cut a
deep gash in the door-post.

“What the d—I are you hacking at?” exclaimed the
old man, “don't you see it's me?”

“See! How the plague should I? It's as dark as
pitch, and besides, my eyes are filled with blood. But
I think I have done for the rascals, for I could find no
more enemies.”

“And so you fell foul of a friend?” replied the other.
“But let us get a light and see how the land lies.
Here, Billy Sniffen, run to the barn and bring us a
Yager candle.”

Billy returned in a minute or two with a burning
brand, the candles were found, and the whole scene
disclosed to view. On the floor, floating in their recreant
blood, lay five lusty fellows, in whiskers, three
with their heads split open, and two only disabled with
their wounds. These, Bitter Root insinuated, had better
be put out of their misery, as he expressed it; but
John claimed them as his prisoners, and insisted their
lives should be spared, though they richly deserved

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

hanging. It was now proposed to search for the poor
fugitives, who had been driven from their home by the
lawless brutality of these hireling ruffians, and accordingly
the party dispersed around, calling upon
them in friendly tones, and inviting their return.
They heard with fearful tremblings, but at length distinguishing
their native tongue in its native accent,
ventured cautiously to obey the summons, and being
told what had happened, expressed their gratitude
in homely phrase, but heartfelt language.

“I wish,” said John, “some one would tie a handkerchief
over my forehead, for this blood almost blinds
me.”

“You are wounded!”—exclaimed the pretty girl,
whose lips had been profaned by the brutal soldier,
and with trembling steps sought her Sunday silk
handkerchief, which, with hasty hands, she bound over
his wound. John was a fine, manly looking fellow,
with deep blue eyes, and dark brown hair curling
about his ears; and the daughter of old Ira Tebow
often in her solitary rambles recalled to mind the
bloody brow, and thankful look of the deliverer of
herself and parents, while her gratitude sometimes
partook of a softer feeling.

After demolishing the remainder of the feast of the
barbarous Cyclops, a consultation took place as to their
future proceedings, and it was unanimously agreed that
it was now too late to procced on their original destination,
since a couple of hours would bring the dawn.
They decided, therefore, to bury the dead, mount
their horses, and carry the two wounded caitiffs to the
quarters of Colonel Courtlandt, who commanded the

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

nearest post, and under whose authority they acted.
Accordingly, their bodies were borne forth in silence,
and buried in one grave, without coffin, shroud, funeral
prayer, or dirge; save that of a screech-owl, which,
attracted by the light of the burning barn, sat on a
neighbouring tree quavering their parting knell. No
memorial marks the spot, for they deserved none
at the hands of those they had come so far to molest;
and there they rested, in common with thousands of
more deserving victims to the hopeless attempt to subjugate
a nation of freemen.

Their horses and military equipments were lawful
spoil of war, and divided among the sky-larkers.
A few guineas found in their pockets, were given to
the old man to pay for their supper.

“God forever bless you, my son,” said old Ira Tebow
to John, at parting. “Let us give one hurrah for liberty.
I can't fight, but my heart is for the good cause.”
And the silent night was startled by a shout that echoed
far and wide, to liberty.

“You have paid dear for it to-night,” said John, “and
I fear have yet much to pay.”

“Well, may be so, my son. But all will come right
at last. I may not live to see it, but my children, and
their children's children, will reap the harvest of the
seed of fire and blood, sown here this night. So long
as we have God and Washington on our side, none but
cowards will despair of our cause. That our country
is destined to be free and independent, I am as sure
as that I am alive at this moment, and in that belief I
shall die contented. God bless you, my son, may your

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

good old grandfather and grandmother, whom I know,
escape the wrongs of me and mine.”

Each man now mounted one of the good horses of
the conquered foe, and there being one to spare, it was
bestowed on the old man, with strict injunctions to
sell it, as soon as possible, somewhere out of the neighbourhood,
least it might be hereafter recognised.

“But what shall I do with your handkerchief, when
my wound is done bleeding?” said John, to the pretty
daughter, who stood looking out at the window.

“Keep it to remember me by,” answered she, with
a blush, and a smile of touching sadness. And he did
keep it, in spite of the affected poutings of Jane Hammond,
who took, on all occasions, in and out of season,
to criticise both the texture and the pattern.

The party then pursued their way homewards, first
stopping at the quarters of Colonel Courtlandt, where
they delivered up the two prisoners, and gave an account
of their expedition. After receiving the praises
of the colonel, they separated, each for his proper destination.
John lingered behind a few moments, to ask
the brave colonel for a testimonial of his good conduct,
which he gave with all his heart; complimenting him,
at the same time, on his gallantry, and assuring him
of his future friendship. He then spurred on his steed
towards the old stone house, it being yet too early in
the morning to pay his respects to Colonel Hammond.
And thus ended the pleasant sky-larking of the venturesome
boys of Westchester, who, in old times, were
the theme of more than one rustic ballad, now forgotten.

CHAPTER IV.

A TOUCH AT A PICTURE—THE AUTHOR SHOWS HIMSELF A
HUNDRED YEARS BEHIND THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE—JOHN
SUSPECTED OF STEALING A HORSE—SILLY BEHAVIOUR OF
JANE—THE OLD CONTINENTAL FLASHES A SPARK OF MAGNANIMITY,
BUT IT GOES OUT WITHOUT PRODUCING A FLAME—
A LONG WALK, AND A LONG TALK, WHICH IT IS BELIEVED
WILL RESTORE JANE TO THE GOOD GRACES OF THE READER—
TOGETHER WITH A VAST DEAL OF OTHER ENTERTAINING
AVD INSTRUCTIVE MATTERS.

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

If a heroine is worth anything, she is worth a description;
and it just now occurs to us that we have
not as yet intimated even the colour of Jane Hammond's
eyes, for which omission we beg pardon of that
fair young maiden, and all our readers. After the departure
of John, she returned home with her father,
filled with sad forebodings. The colonel lighted his
pipe, and, soothed by that unequalled teacher of philosophy,
fell into a glorious reverie, in which he conceived
the abstract idea of a great improvement in
ploughshares. The daughter also fell into a reverie,
but it was not about ploughshares. She sat so perfectly
still, in such a careless, yet becoming attitude,
that we shall take the opportunity to sketch her
likeness.

Her seat was at the low window of an old fashioned

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

house, built by the colonel's father, of whom, were we
inclined to make the most of a small capital of invention,
we could say enough to tire the patience of any
reasonable reader. We might, moreover, fill up a page
or two with a description of the house, together with
the chairs, tables, chests of drawers, andirons, bedding,
and bedposts; but will spare our readers for the present,
promising them faithfully, that if, in the course of
this work, we are hard pushed for something to say,
they shall have such an inventory as would suffice for
an auctioneer's sale. At present, however, there is
metal more attractive before us.

The window where Jane sat, looked out on the windings
of the little stream through its paradise of green
meadows, in the distance of which might be caught a
glimpse of the old stone house, with its moss covered roof
and rugged chimneys, where now dwelt, in lonely solitude,
the aged grandparents of her adventurous lover.
A dark spot in the grey obscurity of evening alone indicated
its precise position, and fancy supplied the rest.
Her arms were crossed on the window-seat, and being
somewhat raised, discovered a waist fashioned by nature
beyond all the art of the most expert Parisian
artiste. Above this taper miricle, one might detect,
beneath her folded arms, the swelling graceful outline
of a gently heaving bosom, which insinuated, not disclosed,
the hidden snows, and gave rise to dim, yet
glowing visions of things unseen, the secret shrines of
lowly adoration. Her head bent gracefully forward,
and somewhat depressed, indicated something like a
latent enthusiasm, mingled with hope and apprehension,
and this attitude brought the silken tresses of her

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

chestnut hair partly over her forehead and eyes. No
one could ever tell the colour of those eyes; for as the
tints of a summer landscape are perpetually varying in
the shade and sunshine, so did the various emotions of
her heart, and the inspirations of her mind, forever vary
the seeming colour of her eyes. Whether black, or
brown, or gray, remains a question to this day undecided,
and those few who remembered her in the days
of her youth, often disputed on the subject, without
ever agreeing. No one was, however, so disputatious
as to question the hue of her long eye-lashes, as everybody
agreed they looked for all the world like changeable
silk.

For the rest, her figure was the exact counterpart
of that of the lady the reader most admires, and her
features seemed to have come together by accident.
But it was one of the happiest accidents in the world;
for it produced, somehow or other, a face so irregular,
yet so charming, as to distance the happiest conceptions
of painting or poetry. Its beauty, or rather its
loveliness—for she could not be called beautiful—consisted
in that indescribable, inimitable mystery, called
expression, and never failed to attract the sympathies
of all who knew her, from its various parts to the delightful
whole. The face of Jane was, however, composed
of legitimate materials; a pair of cherry lips,
inlaid with two rows of polished ivory, whence issued
the balmy breath of spring; a dimpled cheek that rivalled
the aforesaid cherries; a delicate, lady-like nose
and chin, and a general contour divested of the slightest
traces of commonplace vulgarity. But I forbear
to say more, lest, peradventure, I should fall in love

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

with the picture I am drawing. Suffice to say, that
her voice, both in speaking and singing, was so soft,
so exquisitely musically melancholy, when serious, so
inspiring, when gay, that when she spoke or sung, no
echoes ever replied, for they all died away in listening.

But the less we say of her education and accomplishments,
the better, perhaps, for our heroine. She
possessed neither piano, harp, or lute, nor could she
have played honest men to sleep with them, had they
been in her possession. Yet still she possessed the
very soul of harmony, and an ear so nice and delicate,
that an old German musician once said of her, that
had not Apollo got the start of her, she would have
certainly become the goddess of music. Tradition
says, that she used to sing some old Scottish ballads
with such pathos and expression, as often brought iron
tears from the eyes of the old continental, who was
fond of hearing her of a calm summer evening. One
of these, which she used to sing about the time she
believed John was a deserter, has been preserved, and
ran as follows:

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

The mother of Jane was a clever, sensible woman,
and the example of a mother is of more consequence
to a daughter, than all the boarding-school discipline
in the world. Jane had also occasionally spent some
time in the city, before it became the head-quarters of
the British army, and her manners, though partaking
of rural simplicity, were not altogether rustic. There
was nothing vulgar about her, but she was not at all
fashionable, nor had she acquired any fashionable accomplishments.
But in all that becomes a woman—a
gentle and reasonable woman—in all the little arts
and acquirements that contribute to the happiness of
the domestic fireside, and make women ministering
angels, she was by no means wanting.

Her mind was pure and simple, her understanding
excellent. Nature had done much for her, by bestowing,
in great perfection, the faculty of deriving knowledge
from everything she saw or heard. All wisdom
is not locked up in books. There is wisdom to be derived
from the works of the Creator; from exhibitions
of human character, the daily routine of human actions;
and all that we see in nature or the social state,
contributes to awaken the mind and expand the intellect.
Imagination, thought, reflection, and comparison,
are all rich sources, from whence is derived the

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

nurture of the mind; and thus it not unfrequently
happens, that the brightest specimens of genius seem
to leap into life full formed, like Minerva from the
brain of Jove. They are not so, however. They
have studied in the fruitful region of their minds, and,
as certain animals are said to do, grown fat on their
own nutriment. Those who derive their materials
from books, suffer others to think for them; while
those who have no other volume to consult, but that
of nature and experience, generally decide with a sagacity
which often makes the learned stare, and sets
philosophy to inventing new theories. Our heroine
had been principally educated in this school, and the
result will be best tested by the standard of her future
conduct.

On arriving at home, John found the old farmer
hard at work in his garden, and now and then pausing
to admire his currant-bushes, which were his choicest
favourites; the young handmaid was milking the cows
to the tune of Barbara Allen; and the old dame preparing
breakfast, which consisted entirely of the products
of their own labour. They were all too patriotic
to drink tea, even if it could have been procured;
and as for coffee and sugar, they had become traditionary
in the family. Such was the scarcity of the
most ordinary conveniences of life, that, in many
places, thorns were substituted for pins by the women
of the interior country. Had it not been for Mangham,
the pedlar and tinker, who sometimes paid a visit to
this quarter, there would have been no stitching for
lack of needles.

“Well, for the landsake!” exclaimed the little maid,

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

as John rode up on his gallant charger, “where did
you get that fine horse?”

“Oh! I found a mare's nest with eight fine colts in
it, and took this one for my share.”

“You be fiddled,” retorted the little maid, “I don't
believe a word on't. You've turned Cow Boy, and
been robbing some of the poor people down below.”

“Ah! John, John!” said the old dame, shaking her
head. At the same time, the grandfather coming up,
demanded rather harshly, where he got that animal?
whether he came honestly by him, or had plundered
some poor farmer like himself? and declaring, if such
were the case, he should carry him back if it cost him
his life. This imputation called out the lad, and he
at once vindicated himself by detailing the adventure
of the preceding night, drawing the attention of his
auditors to the gash in his forehead, which caused the
good woman to exclaim—“Thank heaven, it is no
worse! You might just as well have been killed as
not;” meaning, that the one was just as likely as the
other.

“And so you won the nag in fair fight, John?” said
the old man.

“Yes, sir; I paid for him with my blood, and that's
better than continental money any day.”

“Well, go and turn him out in the long meadow;
there is grass up to his eyes.”

“Not yet, sir; I must first carry a message to the
colonel.”

“A message—ah! I reckon you have made a mistake,
John. You mean the colonel's daughter.” But
John heard him not; he was cantering away towards

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

the portly mansion of the old continental. It was rather
an early hour for a visit, but country people don't
know the extreme impropriety of disturbing young ladies
in their morning dress.

Jane, who had passed the first part of the night in
thinking, the last, in dreaming, was up betimes in the
morning, looking as fresh and blooming as a rose-bud,
in spite of her anxieties, for she had a clear conscience,
and that is a great consolation in all troubles.
She happened, for some mysterious purpose, to be
looking towards a certain old stone house, which was,
indeed, rather a picturesque object in the gray morning
hour, with its sharp, mossy roof, and the blue smoke
ascending to the skies, from the rugged chimney, and
while thus occupied, saw a horseman ride briskly up
the little knoll, dismount at the door, and, after a brief
parley, disappear within. The distance was too great
to distinguish who it was, in the obscurity of the dawn,
and the sight threw her into a trepidation which caused
her heart to flutter strangely. It could hardly be John,
for he, she knew, had gone forth on foot, and suddenly
the thought shot across her mind that it was some
messenger of ill news either from John or his father.
Gradually, however, as is usual in such cases, all her
apprehensions at length centered on the object nearest
her heart; and in this painful state she remained, gazing
wistfully in that direction, when suddenly she saw
the stranger come forth, mount his horse, and dash
along the road that ran beside the stream leading to
the residence of the old continental. Her throbbing
heart whispered that something strange had happened,
and she retired from the window into her chamber,

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

afraid of hearing it too soon. Here, in a few minutes,
she could distinguish the clattering of horses hoofs,
and—she could not help it—her curiosity led her to
the window again, where all doubts and fears were
at once dispelled by a discovery which we leave to
the sagacity of the world.

It happened, unluckily for our hero, that at the precise
moment of his riding up to the house, the old continental
was in a very bad humour, owing to the failure
of one of his pet inventions. In going the rounds,
as was his daily custom, he discovered that a valuable
pup, with a pedigree equal to that of a blood-horse, or
a noble lord, standing at the head of the list in the
royal calendar, had been caught in one of his infallible
mole-traps, whereby one of his legs was so much
injured that the poor animal could scarcely drag himself
along. The colonel partly consoled himself by
calling the puppy a great blockhead, but his afforded
him only partial relief, and he continued sorely disturbed
in mind.

“Thunder and Mars! what brought you here this
time in the morning?” asked he, gruffly, of John.
“Didn't I tell you not to show your face here again
till— But, hey! Why, blood and fire! what have
you got that rag tied about your pate for? and how
did you come by that fine horse, hey?”

“How is my dear Jane, sir?”

“What's that to you, puppy? Get out, you stupid
cur!” and here the colonel turned upon the wounded
dog, who was howling most dolorously, and, lifting up
his lame leg, was just on the point of giving him a
benediction, when the poor dumb thing gave him such

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

a piteous look, that his heart smote him, and he turned
his wrath once more on friend John, exclaiming—

“I say, what's that to you, sir? and how dare you
call my only daughter your dear Jane? But why
don't you answer me? What is the matter with that
fool's pate of yours, and where did you get that
horse?”

“I purchased him in fair fight, and at his full value,
sir. He cost me this cut across the forehead.”

“What—what—hey! Johnny! Come, dismount,
and tell us all about it; but mind, none of your bragging,
you young dog.”

John dismounted, accordingly, and entered the house,
expecting to meet Jane; but that discreet damsel still
remained ensconced in her chamber, where, in our
opinion, she heard and saw all that was passing below.
Our hero was mortified and disappointed at
finding the room empty. Nay, he ventured to insinuate
to the colonel, that, as he could not afford to tell
the story twice over, he should await the appearance
of the young lady, who might very naturally feel
some little curiosity. The old continental called him
a conceited puppy, but finally surrendered, yielded to
his desire to hear the adventures of the sky-larkers,
and forthwith commanded the attendance of his
daughter. She came, clad in all the bloom of a
spring morning, adorned in woman's choicest livery—
blushes and smiles; she gave her soft hand to John,
and returned his pressure with something, which the
vanity of the youth interpreted into a contraction of
her rosy fingers; something neither passive nor yet

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

active, but which thrilled his heart, and caused him
to look down on all creation.

“There, now, confound your impudence!” cried the
colonel; “give us a full and true account of your last
night's frolic. Sit down, Jane, where he can't see you,
or the puppy won't know what he is saying.”

Jane obeyed, by getting partly behind the open door,
whence she ever and anon looked out, like the sun
from behind a cloud, and as often as this happened,
John forgot what he was saying. As he proceeded,
her feelings became deeply interested; and when he
came to relate the particulars of the midnight contest,
she left her retreat, placed herself close by his side,
clasped his hand, and listened, with dewy eyelids,
while her bosom swelled with deep emotion. When
he had finished, she rose, rapidly quitted the room,
and when a few minutes after, she returned, her eyes
were inflamed with weeping. She brought a cambric
handkerchief, which, we regret to say, was not fringed
with Brussels lace, and gently removing that of the
daughter of Ira Tebow, bound it about his forehead.
It was some time before John could get this handkerchief
again; and when, at last, he requested its return,
as a keepsake from that poor girl, Jane exclaimed, as
she gave it him—“Lord! what a fuss you make about
an old bandana handkerchief, John!”

“Is all this true, John?” said the colonel, “real matter
of fact, like my exploit at old Ti?”

“Did I ever tell you a falsehood, colonel?”

“No, John, I'll say that for you. You are always
impudent enough, to speak out fairly, when you might
sometimes better hold your tongue. I believe every

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

word you've said; and now, Thunder and Mars! I'll—
faith, I've a great mind—hem—hum—ha—no, not so
cheaply as that, either,” quoth the colonel, muttering
to himself.

“What were you saying, sir?” asked John.

“Nothing—at least, nothing that concerns you to
hear—that is to say— But, John, what did Colonel
Phil say to you when he heard the story?”

John handed him the testimonial of that gallant officer,
which the colonel read, occasionally exclaiming
at intervals, “Good! good!” with particular satisfaction.
When he had finished, he returned the paper,
and spoke as follows:

“Well, John—but, Jane, what the deuce are you
doing with papers belonging to other people, hey?
But as I was going to say, John, this is a pretty good
beginning, but it don't come up to old Ti yet, by a
great deal, my boy. However, as I said, it is a pretty
good beginning. Six Yagers killed, two wounded
prisoners, and a fine horse, all at the expense of a cut
over the eye. Dog cheap, John—cheap as dirt—a
good beginning, certainly, as I said before, but it must
not be the end. Hold your tongue, sir!”

“I was not speaking, colonel,” said John, smiling.

“Yes—but you were just opening your mouth to
speak; and you, young madam, don't be looking at
me as if you'd eat me. Young man,” and the old continental
drew himself up with ineffable dignity, “this
is a mere flea-bite; such things as these happen every
day in war-time, and are never recorded in history.
You must be in the chronicles, sir. Thunder and
Mars! you must place yourself on a par with me,

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

before I give you my daughter, my money, my lands, and
improvements. You must get a timber leg, have one
arm sliced off, or lose an eye, or you must have a few
bullet-holes through you—”

“Oh! father!” cried Jane.

“Be dumb, madam, and listen to what I am saying.
You must figure in broad daylight, and in sight of
armies; you must win the gratitude of your country;
you must descend to posterity; and, more than all
this, you must receive the approbation of the great
Washington. When you have done this, all I have
shall be yours, and not before, on the honour of an old
continental.”

Ah! father!” cried Jane, “you will never be satisfied
till you send him to his grave. Last night he escaped
by miracle. A little more, and that cut would
have been fatal. John—dear John!” exclaimed she,
passionately, “give me up—I am not worth the price
of such a purchase.”

“No, dearest Jane! The contract is made, and
shall be fulfilled, if heaven spares me life and opportunity.
I mean to strive for you and my country, and
if I fall, I shall die for love and liberty!”

“What a cruel situation is mine!” the tears trickling
down her cheeks. “I can only look for happiness
through the perpetual risk of losing it forever. But
I will not discourage you with my fears. The women,
like the men of my country are ready to sacrifice
everything to its freedom.”

“There spoke the daughter of an old continental,”
cried the colonel. “Kiss me, my girl—and you too,
John, talk like a brave fellow. Thunder and Mars!

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

I've a great mind to put an end to all this. But no—
not yet—not yet. But I tell you what—you may go
and take a walk together, if you will promise not to
runaway. I give you an hour to say all you have to
say, while I go and visit that infernal mole-trap, and
mend this ridiculous puppy's leg, who makes more
rout, by half, than if he'd lost his head. Away with
you—remember, only one hour.”

The walk lasted more than an hour. They rambled
under the stately elms, and plane trees, that overshadowed
the clear murmuring stream, and now began to
exhibit the many coloured tints of autumn. The maples
and sumach, already displayed their scarlet foliage,
most beautiful in decay; the hardy brood of autum
nal flowers were on the wane, and the blue-birds, the
meadow-larks, and the robins, were collecting in flocks,
preparing for the sunny regions of the south. There
was a sober, calm serenity, almost bordering on melancholy,
in the aspect of the earth and skies; a soothing
gentleness in the murmurs of the stream, and the
soft whisperings of the dying leaves, which ever and
anon, smitten by the frost, fell in spiral eddies to the
ground, or dropt into the brook, apt emblems of some
dear and well remembered companion, on his way to
the home of all the living, the region of eternal suffering
or eternal rest.

Every object around them was calculated to awaken
and foster the purest and tenderest emotions of the
heart, and the impression that their parting now, might
be to meet no more, imparted a deep solemnity to the
feelings by which they were inspired. Love, engrossing,
overpowering love, filled all their hearts—

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

prompting a thousand innocent endearments, such as at a
time like this, may be claimed without assurance, and
granted without indelicacy. The silent solitudes of
nature are not the promoters of the guilty passions; it
is where the human race herd together in crowds, amid
all those luxurious seductions, appealing to the senses
and the imagination, through every avenue of the heart,
that the passions become epidemical, spreading like
contagion from one to another, until the entire mass
becomes diseased and corrupted. There is no incitement
to sensuality in the charms of nature; no seduction
in her music; no mischief in her smiles; no luxurious
facination in the rich bounties she pours out
with such a lavish hand; and they who would secure
to themselves the cheapest, the purest, and the most
enduring source of innocent enjoyment, should cherish
in their inmost heart a feeling of admiration for that
stupendous and beautiful fabric, which more than any
other work of his hand, displays the wisdom, the goodness,
and the omnipotence of the great Architect of the
universe.

At length, after rambling a considerable way, their
tongues often silent, but their eyes and hearts discoursing
in the silent language of mutual love, Jane asked
with a hesitation exquisitely feminine, “is it not time
to return?”

“Not yet, dearest. Remember it may be long before
we meet again. I do not wish to work on your apprehensions,
or alarm your tenderness, in order to tempt
you to exceed your father's permission. But when I
go away now, it is with a determination to be absent
a long while. I will not deceive you, dearest Jane.

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

I am going to offer my services to Washington; to
fight by the side of my father, and if necessary, to die
with him in defence of my country. It is only in this
way I can make myself worthy of your heart and
hand.”

“I was going to entreat you to stay with us, but I
will not. No, dear John! whatever I may suffer, or
whatever may happen to you—you shall go. It must
never be said of an American woman, that there lived
one who loved herself so well, that she forgot her
country in times like these. At least, it shall never
be said of me. Are not the peaceful farmers and
their sons fighting for liberty, almost without clothing,
or food, or shelter of any kind, and with nothing to
sustain them but the love of freedom, their confidence
in a good cause, and in the wisdom and virtue of
Washington? and shall their mothers, wives, and
daughters, be wanting to their glorious duty? No,
John! no, dear—dearest John! Go—fight and die, if
more martyrs are required. You may fall, and be
buried no one will know where, without any to tell
of your courage and devotion—without any memorial
to mark the spot where a nameless man died for his
country. But you will live in my heart while I live;
and, whatever sorrows may fall to my lot, will be
soothed by the pride of having been dear to the heart
of one who loved his country better than his mistress.
Go—and may heaven protect you!”

The effort was too much for the gentleness of woman,
and at the conclusion of this heart-stirring appeal,
her whole spirit dissolved in tenderness. She
cast herself on his bosom, sobbed with convulsive

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

heavings, and looking him in the face, with a mixture
of contending emotions, she exclaimed, “Go—serve
your country—her claim is greater than mine!”

They walked rapidly towards home, without exchanging
another word. John took leave of the old
continental, mounted his horse, and their farewell
was conveyed in a silent look which was never forgotten.

CHAPTER V.

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

The dark days of the infant republic of America
had now come. The enemy, everywhere victorious,
had overrun, though he could not subdue, a large portion
of the land, and lorded it over some of our capitals.
The paper currency, that last and most fatal of
all the expedients of despair, was fast depreciating
into a mere nominal value; the resources of the
country were either exhausted, or could not be procured
for such a worthless equivalent; the little
waning army, suffering under the privation of almost
every necessary of life, and every means of warfare,
was struggling without hope, and the cradle of the
infant Liberty seemed on the eve of becoming its
grave.

But amid all these discouragements and disasters,
the great mass of the people, the sturdy yeomanry of
the country, remained true to the cause of independence;
and the destitute soldiers, though raw and undisciplined
in the main, continued to display a spirit

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

of hardy endurance, of unconquerable patience, of
manly submission, never on any occasion exhibited by
standing armies of hirelings. So little did their rulers
doubt the patriotism of the people, that when the parliament
of England sent commissioners to the United
States with offers of forgiveness at the mere price of
returning to their allegiance, Congress directed the
terms to be published throughout the land, that every
man might see and judge for himself. This confidence
was not misplaced. The people scorned to accept
of pardon, for what they considered no crime;
and the attempt to subdue them by an amnesty for the
past, only animated their greater exertions in the future.
Both men and women, with few exceptions, remained
true to the cause, and resolved to drain the
cup of suffering to the dregs, rather than turn aside
the draught by abject submission. They never despaired,
even in the gloomiest times; but, with a generous
confidence in an oft defeated leader, resolved to
dare all, suffer all, rather than lose the glorious prize
for which they had already paid so dearly. It was
this noble confidence, this invincible ardour, this unconquerable
perseverance, which, aided by the blessing
of heaven, and heaven's best gift, a Washington,
at length baffled the efforts of one of the most powerful
nations of the earth, and gave liberty to a new
world.

The little army of Washington, after performing
wonders in New Jersey, and winning laurels in the
depths of the snows, with bare, bleeding feet, and
half-naked bodies, was now in winter-quarters at the
Highlands of the Hudson, secure, for a brief period,

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

from the efforts of a far superior enemy. They were,
in a great measure, destitute of tents; and if this had
not been the case, the rough, inclement winter of
these northern regions would have rendered these an
inadequate defence against the driving snows and
boisterous winds, that drifted and howled along the
narrow valley, through which the majestic river pursues
its way to the Atlantic.

Bidding farewell to home, as he believed for a long
while, and receiving divers cautions to take care of
himself from the old folks, John had, the morning
after parting with Jane, pursued his way to the
quarters of General Alexander McDougal, one of the
earliest and worthiest patriots of New York, with
whom his family had been acquainted during their residence
in the city, and in whose brigade his father
served as a captain of dragoons. The general was
of Scottish descent, of a cool determined character,
and undoubted courage. Like Napoleon, he was an
egregious snuff-taker, and to save the trouble of opening
a box, or, because no box of reasonable dimensions
would contain his daily supply, usually carried
his snuff in his waistcoat pocket, as we have often
heard from one of his old companions in arms. From
the same authority, we learn that the general's ruffles
and buff-jerkin, generally exhibited a plentiful sprinkling
of his favourite debauch. Our adventurer first
sought his father, and the meeting was affectionately
solemn. But after the parent had welcomed his son,
he began a long lecture on the impropriety of leaving
home, where his presence was required for the

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

protection of the old people, and the cultivation of the
farm.

“Besides,” added the captain, “you would have seen
me soon without coming here. I was about asking
leave for a few days, as early as next week—however,
John, I should not find fault with you for taking all
this trouble to see me. So give me your hand, you
are heartily welcome.”

“But, sir,” replied John, “I did not come to see you:
that is, I did not come on purpose.”

“No? what then brought you here?”

“I came to fight for my country, sir!”

“You? why, you're but a boy—a chicken, what will
you do amongst our old cocks?”

“Crow, and fight like the rest, father.”

“Pooh, John! go home and take care of the farm,
and the old people. I'm sure you've run away without
permission.”

“No, on my word, sir, they consented.”

“What! mother too?”

“Yes sir. She opposed it at first, but at last said
to me, “well go, John, fight for your country, and take
care of your father.”

“Did she, the dear old soul?” exclaimed the captain,
drawing his hand across his brow; “but why should I
doubt it, when I have seen so many of our women
with the hearts of men in their bosoms? John, you
can hardly remember your mother, you were so young
when you lost her. Though brought up tenderly in a
quiet city, I verily believe she never knew what it
was to fear for herself. I have seen her twice in situations
that made old soldiers turn pale, without a

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

change in her countenance. If you ever turn coward,
John, you will disgrace both your parents. But you
are too young for a soldier of freedom. Can you live
without eating; sleep without covering; fight without
shirt to your back, or shoe to your foot; without pay,
and without the hope of victory? If you cannot, you'd
better go home. Look at me, John.”

John ran his eye over the poor soldier of freedom,
and though he had been absent little more than a year,
was struck with the change in his face and person.
He had grown very thin; his brow was seamed with
deep furrows; his hair, which was only a little grizzly
when he left home, was now almost white, and a
deep scar on his cheek, gave token of his having been
within arm's reach of an enemy. Cap he had none,
but its place was supplied by a coarse wool hat, of a
grim, weather beaten hue, ornamented with a little
faded plume, now of a most questionable colour. His
epaulette was of the tint of rusty copper; his garments
not only worn threadbare, but rent in more than
one place; he wore a common leather stock, and his
clumsy cowhide boots, the soles of which were gradually
departing from each other, were innocent of oil
or blacking. His sword was cased in a scabbard of
cartridge paper, made by his own hands, and his entire
appearance presented no bad emblem of the fortunes
of his country.

“Well, John, what do you think of me?”

John made no answer. His heart was too full for
words, but he thought to himself, “Such is ever the
price of liberty!”

“But don't be discouraged, boy. Though I seem

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

rather the worse for wear, I have plenty of money.
Look here—” and the captain drew from his pocket
a handful of paper money, with a smile that partook
of bitter irony. “See how rich I am, if I could only
persuade people to take these rags for money. I offered
Mangham, the pedlar—you know him, I believe,
a wary rascal—a hundred dollars for a pair of stockings,
a luxury I have not enjoyed for some time, but
the fellow answered, `No, captain, if I want to be
charitable, I give things away; but when I trade, I
expect something of equal value for my goods.' He
offered to give me a pair for old acquaintance sake,
but I could not bring myself to that. So you see me
barefoot, with a pocketful of money.”

“If I were in your place, sir, I would resign and go
home. Let me take your place, while you get a little
rest and clothe yourself. I can't bear to see you look
like a beggar.”

“No, my son,” replied the captain, with a firm determination,
unalloyed by a single spark of enthusiasm,
“no, John; when I first put on this old rusty
sword, I swore never to lay it down till my country
was free, or all hope of freedom was at an end. I
mean, if God spares my life, to keep my oath, let what
else may happen. If my country cannot give me
shoes, I will fight barefoot; if she cannot afford me a
hat, I will fight bareheaded; and if she can't pay me
for my services in money, I will live in the hope of
being repaid hereafter by her gratitude. I know she
gives us the best she has to give—that she shares in
our sufferings—and may God forsake me, when I desert
her!”

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

Such were the men who bore the country on their
shoulders, through peril, doubt, and despair: such the
unknown, nameless heroes, who live only in the blessings
they bestowed on posterity. And here lies the
mystery which has puzzled the world, namely, the
achievement of independence in the face of apparently
insuperable obstacles, presenting themselves at
every step and every moment, which cannot be explained
but by the virtuous firmness, the unwavering
patriotism, not more of the high than of the low; not
more of those whose names will forever remain objects
of national gratitude, than of those whose names
were never remembered. The soul that animated and
inspired the revolution, spoke from the lips of this
nameless soldier.

A somewhat animated discussion took place between
father and son, on the subject of the latter volunteering
his services in the cause of his country.

“You'll be half-starved, John.”

“I can bear what thousands suffer here.”

“You'll be half-naked.”

“So are they, sir.”

“You'll be ragged and dirty.”

“So are you, sir,” said John, rather irreverently.

“You'll never be able to go through with it.”

“Why not, as well as my father?”

“You never smelt powder, or drew blood in the
course of your life. You could never find in your
heart to cut a man down, even to save your own life.”

“Couldn't I?” quoth John—and he drew from his
pocket the testimonial of Colonel Courtlandt, giving
the particulars of the affair at old Ira Tebow's. The

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

father read it with a feeling of conscious pride, and
clapped his hand approvingly on his shoulder.

“John,” cried he, after hesitating a few moments,
“you were born for a soldier of freedom. Come along,
and, like the old patriarch, I will offer up my only son
to God and my country.”

Accordingly, they proceeded to the quarters of General
McDougal, to wit, a hut of rough stone walls,
covered with moss-grown shingles, and containing a
single apartment, destitute of the most ordinary accommodations.
They found the rusty old soldier in a
weather-beaten suit of regimentals, solacing himself
with his favourite luxury, which he administered with
his thumb and two fingers.

“Well, captain, what news?”

“Nothing, general, except that the tories are up in
Monmouth county.”

“Ah! so I hear;” and the general took a pinch extraordinary.

“General,” said the captain, “I have brought you a
young lad, who wishes to share the pleasures of a soldier's
life. I have just been giving him some account
of them, and he has fallen in love with the profession.”

“Aye—and how old may he be, captain?”

“Between eighteen and nineteen, sir.”

“Too young—too young, captain, by a great deal.
He'll be on the sick list, the first campaign, and be
sick of the service besides. Young man, can you live
upon nothing, and sleep on the ground of a frosty
night, without any blanket but the sky?”

“I don't know, sir, till I try.”

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

“Eh?—well, that is a more sensible answer than I
expected. But do you think you can manage to go
half the time without a shirt to your back, or shoe to
your foot, in short, without meat, drink, clothing, or
lodging—serve without any other pay than what will
not pay for anything, fight without the prospect of victory,
and look a red coat in the face without turning
your back?”

“General, I can only answer for one thing—a heart,
and I hope an arm, to serve my country. I have other
motives than patriotism, which I will not trouble you
with. Allow me to say, I believe I can look any man
in the face, when I have done nothing that makes me
ashamed of myself.”

The general thrust his hand into his waistcoatpocket,
and regaling himself with a pinch, half of
which, as usual, he spilled on his ruffles and buff-jerkin,
ran his eye over the young candidate.

“Faith and troth, young man, you're a likely lad,
and promise fair. God knows we want men, and
must take boys when we can get them. Do you
come of a good whig stock, for hang me, if I don't
believe whig and tory run in the blood, just like game
in fighting-cocks.”

“This is my father, sir.”

“Ho! ho!—what, captain, have you brought him
here?”

“He is my only son, general, but I did not bring
him here. He came from home by himself, of his
own accord, and I confess, I did all I could to make
him go back again. But nothing would do, and here
he is at your disposal.”

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

“Well, if he is your chicken, he comes of the right
breed. Lad, would you like to serve on horseback, or
on foot? But for the matter of that, there are not
half enough horses to mount the dragoons already enlisted,
captain.”

“I have brought a horse with me, general,” said
John.

“Faith, you are a provident lad, and you and your
horse shall be welcome. You wish to serve as a volunteer,
I believe?”

“If you please, general, under my father.”

“What—I suppose you would like to go home when
you get tired?”

“No, sir. I wish to enter as a volunteer, because
there is some little merit in serving my country without
being obliged to do it.”

“Well, lad, I like that answer, and shall probably
have occasion for the services of one who acts from
such motives. Can you read, write, and cipher, upon
occasion? I ask, because in these times schoolmasters
are as scarce as guineas.”

“He is something of a scholar, general,” replied the
captain, “and was educated in New York, under old
Macdonald, till the age of fourteen.”

“Macdonald, hey? then I am perfectly satisfied.
He has had learning instilled into him with the oil of
birch. How many times did he flog you, lad?”

“I don't know exactly, general. I kept count till
fifty, and then lost my reckoning.”

The general now dismissed John, with instructions
to join his father's company of dragoons, and be sure
to return upon the red coats the flogging he had

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

received from master Macdonald. The father and son
then took their way to quarters.

The young volunteer forthwith entered on his career
with an ardour and enthusiasm inspired by patriotism
and love. He had two mistresses, his country and
Jane, who, so far from dividing, concentrated his heart
on one and the same object. His father placed him
under an old subaltern of his company, to be drilled,
and being already an expert rider, he, in a very short
period, became equally distinguished for the steadiness
and precision of his movements, as well as skill in the
management of his weapons. In short, he practiced
unweariedly, in order to accomplish himself in all the
arduous duties of a soldier, and disciplined both mind
and body to meet all the exigencies of those times
which tried the souls of men, and the firmness of
women.

The American forces being on one occasion drawn
out for review on the plain between the foot of the
mountains and the river, John had, for the first time,
a full opportunity of contemplating the man, who, by
his virtues and services, has deserved the highest of
all titles, that of father of his country. As he rode
along with that graceful dignity for which he was so
eminently distinguished, John gazed at him till he almost
forgot his soldierly duties; while all that the
great and good man had done, and was still doing for
his country rushed on his mind. He contemplated
him with affectionate reverence, unlimited confidence,
and profound gratitude; and, in the delirium of his soul,
wished to heaven, that like him, though at humble
distance, he might some day be able to do or suffer

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

what might entitle him to the gratitude of his country,
and the remembrance of posterity. He felt, what
thousands every day experienced, in the presence of
Washington, while they all but despaired everywhere
else, a degree of confidence in the good cause which
inspired him with hope, and animated him to exertion.
Men, clothed in rags, suffering hunger and cold, and
dispirited by a long succession of disasterous fortunes,
awakened from the depths of despondency, and gazed
on the blameless hero with reviving hope of the future.
Such is the unflinching reliance of mankind on
that virtue which has been long tried and never failed.

For more than four years had the country been
overrun in various directions by an unscrupulous enemy,
who stigmatized as rebels a whole nation that
had risen in defence of its rights; and who, instead of
looking on the Americans as fellow-countrymen, manfully
struggling in behalf of every subject of England,
viewed them as turbulent mutineers, rising against
their lawful commander, and treated them as without
claim to the courtesies of civilized warfare. More
than four years had the country bled at every pore,
and bled almost without the hope its blood would not
be shed in vain. During this long period of suffering,
seldom were the soldiers of freedom, or the people
struggling to be free, cheered forward by success, or
animated by victory; and, while every day paying the
price of liberty, the boon seemed only every day receding
farther and farther from their grasp. Yet,
during this trying period, both leaders and people, soldiers
and citizens, rejected with unconquerable decision,
and wonderful unanimity, every offer of peace

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

without independence. They refused pardon for the
past, although almost without hope of the future;
they rested with a generous reliance on a leader whose
destiny it was to be ever on the defensive without the
means of defence; and, amid all their sufferings, disappointments,
disasters and defeats, clung, with all
the ardour of devoted faith, to their virtuous, courageous,
indefatigable leader. Even despondency could
not weaken their reliance, and when a victorious general
was presented as a successor to Washington, fleeing
before a superior enemy, they decided with one
heart, one voice, that they would have no other leader.
Never did people display a more noble confidence, and
never was such confidence more richly repaid.

CHAPTER VI.

WINTER-QUARTERS IN THE HIGHLANDS—CHEAP MONEY—TRAITORS
IN THE CAMP—A NIGHT-SCENE, WHICH ENDS IN OUR
HERO BEING ARRESTED, TRIED, CONDEMNED, AND SHOT—
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN SWEARING AWAY A MAN'S LIFE, AND
SHOOTING HIM OUTRIGHT.

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

The trials of Washington and his little army, were
not alone confined to resisting a superior foreign enemy.
His cares never slept, and their sufferings never
ceased. Two-thirds of the year they had to cope
with a force, from which to escape was a triumph;
and during the remainder, they had to wrestle with
foes still more difficult to resist. Hunger, cold, nakedness,
and all their sad consequences, assailed them
from day to day. The wicked never ceased to trouble
them, and the weary were never at rest. While in
winter-quarters, Washington was incessantly employed
in advising, exhorting, and stimulating Congress
and the states, to more vigorous exertions:
devising and recommending new plans of defence
or conquest, and using every effort of argument
and persuasion, to infuse into their hearts a portion of
his own unconquerable energy. It were too much to
assert, that Washington alone saved his country; but

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

it may be said with truth, that without him, it would
not have been saved.

During the winter of which we are speaking, the
sufferings of the army were more than usually severe,
owing to the want of many comforts essential during
a hard winter among the mountains of the north.
They had borne all patiently, at Valley Forge and
elsewhere; but there is a limit to human patience, as
well as endurance, and the jests, with which they occasionally
strove to keep up their spirits, at length
began to give place to effusions of bitter spleen, or
murmurs of deep dissatisfaction. The rapid depreciation
of continental money, as it was called, bore
heavily on the soldiers; for such was its daily, nay,
hourly decrease in value, that ere they could exchange
it for necessaries or indulgences, it had fallen still
lower. It was like a wagon trundling down hill, the
nearer it got to the bottom, the faster it went. The
soldiers, at length, would light their pipes with it in
disdain. As they sat idle in their huts of evenings,
they would talk of home, and contrast their situation
with that of former times, when their labours were
light, their food wholesome, and their nights refreshed
by undisturbed repose. In short, some of them began
to form little cabals, one of which was incited, as well
as led, by the old corporal who had drilled John, and
who was a foreigner.

Pay-day came round, and there was nothing to pay
with but continental money, the depreciation of which,
no increased quantity could keep pace with. One
bitter night, a party of some half dozen were gathered
together in one of the huts. They had just

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

received a few thousand dollars, that scarce sufficed to
purchase a small pittance of tobacco and other homely
luxuries, which the old corporal had invited John
to come and share with them. He had complied,
though he neither smoked nor drank, being willing to
be on good terms with his fellow-soldiers, who, in
truth, had no special kind feelings towards him as a
volunteer.

It was now the dead of winter, savage, gloomy, and
severe. The mountains were bare of foliage, save
that of the melancholy evergreen, which, when the
earth is covered with snow, only increases the desolation
of nature by its black hues. The grim, gray
rocks, contrasted with savage grandeur the white
winding-sheet, which was thrown as a pall over the
inanimate corpse of nature. The river was bound in
thick-ribbed chains of ice, and the northeast wind swept
along through the openings of the high hills, howling
mournfully a requiem over the grave of the year.
The only comfort within reach of the poor soldiers,
was plenty of fuel growing at their very doors; and
the party, consisting, besides John, of Corporal Crawley,
Aaron Cronk, Pilgrim Pugsley, Hachaliah, commonly
Hack Foster, and Case Boshin, the younger,
were now gathered about a roaring fire, which would
have been much more agreeable, had not the wind
dashed down from the mountain-tops into the chimney,
occasionally enveloping them in a mystification
of smoke that brought tears to their eyes.

“Boys,” said the corporal, “I've got a treat for you
to-night. I bought a jug of spirits, some pipes, and

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

three papers of tobacco, to-day, at Peekskill. What
do you think they cost me?”

“More than you're worth, I reckon,” said Case
Boshin.”

“Eight hundred dollars. It swept my pocket from
top to bottom, clear as a whistle. I'm a ruined man;
but come let's enjoy ourselves while they last. Who's
got a piece of something to light my pipe with, for I
see our wooden tongs is on the invalid list.”

Case, hereupon pulled out a continental bill, and
twisting it between his fingers, handed it to the corporal,
who very coolly lighted his pipe with it. The
jug was then uncorked, and the party, with the exception
of John, proceeded to make large libations.

“It's a pretty use for money,” at length observed
the corporal, “to be lighting one's pipe with it.”

“Yes,” replied Case, “and it's a pretty service this,
we've got into; all summer running away from the
red coats, and all winter roosting like crows here in
the mountains, half clothed, and a little more than
half-starved. For my part, my time is out in the
course of next spring, and if I don't make tracks home
on a hand-gallop, you may call me a horse, and ride
me bare-backed, if you like.”

“Ah! you're a lucky fellow, Case,” said Hack Foster,
“I've got more than a year yet to serve, the d—I
take me for listing so long, I say. Liberty is a fine
thing, but like gold, it may be bought too dear, I reckon.”

They now began to compare notes, and the result
was by no means satisfactory, most of them having a
considerable time to serve. In the meanwhile, the jug
went round briskly, and by degrees they began to be

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

somewhat flustered with the mischievous inspiration.
The corporal talked “big,” as the phrase is, and threatened
a mutiny; while the others swore they would go
home in spite of all the articles of war, and the conversation
became equally dangerous to the listeners
as to the speakers. John, who had been absent on a
visit to a certain lady, in other words, thinking of the
last parting, when Jane cast herself on his bosom, and
bade him go and serve his country, was at length
roused to a cognizance of what was passing, just as
Hack was swearing he would give them leg bail before
long.

“You will—will you?” cried he, coming forward.
“you'll desert in spite of the articles of war? You
had better try it, if you want to be shot before the
whole army, and branded as traitors to your country.”

“Booh!” cried the old corporal, puffing out a cloud
of smoke—“you're a gentleman volunteer, John. You
can go when you please, and come when you like,
whenever you want to see your mammy. But you'd
better be quiet and mind your own business. We
listed for pay and rations, and as we get neither one
or the other, I say the bargain is broke, and we have
a right to do as we please with ourselves.”

“To be sure,” echoed Hack Foster, “to be sure we
did. It stands to reason, if one party breaks an agreement,
the other has a right to break it too, and for
that matter, it's broke already. Supposin, now, I
make a bargain with the corporal for a jug of sperrits,
and the jug turns out to be empty, do you think
I'm obliged to pay him for it? Not I; I'm ex—ex—

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

ex—I can't get out that consarned word; but I know
I'm clear as a whistle off the bargain.”

“That's law,” quoth Pilgrim Pugsley, “'cause I was
onsuited once on a trial afore Justice Day on that
very account. It's jist as much as to say, every
man must do as he would be done by; and so, if anybody
cheats me, I have a good right to cheat him, I
guess.”

“As clear as preaching,” rejoined the corporal, “and
so, my boys, as we get no pay but continental money,
that is, no money at all, we have an incombustible
right to curse and quit just when we like, in spite of
all you can say, mister gentleman volunteer.”

“A pretty conclusion, really,” replied the other,
“and so you only fight for pay and rations. You have
no heart for the cause or the country. As for you,
corporal, you have no country, at least, none you
choose to fight for; for my own countrymen here, I
should think they would be ashamed to desert a cause
which is that of all mankind.”

“Pooh! mister gentleman volunteer, what's liberty
without food, pay, or clothing? You may talk as you
please, but d—n my old shoes, if a man can live upon
liberty. Here's to you boys, take one more pull, and
then the jug will be as empty as my pocket.”

The last drop causes the cup to overflow, and this
last appeal to the jug, brought the party, our hero excepted,
who had declined to partake in the debauch,
to the very confines of rational self-possession; for, being
the last, each one had taken his full share. They
became noisy, and riotous; blurted out disaffection,
mutiny, and treason, and were proceeding to organize,

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

as well as their disordered brains would permit, a system
of proceeding of the most aggravated and dangerous
nature. They swaggered, swore and blustered,
in tones so loud and boisterous, that they might
have been overheard by their neighbours in the adjacent
huts, had not the uproar of the scene without,
confounded that within. A violent snow-storm had
commenced; the wind shrieked and moaned among
the bare branches of the trees, the snow beat through
the chinks of the door and windows, almost covering
the earthen floor, and gradually extinguishing the fire,
which was fast expiring. John had vainly attempted
to stay the irritated, intoxicated soldiers; but every
attempt only brought on him new taunts and reproaches,
until, at length, losing all patience, he leapt in the
midst of them, and cried out in a loud, firm voice:

“Soldiers! do you know what you are saying?
Do you know it is my bounden duty to report every
word of it, and that I will do it, as sure as you live,
unless you promise to give up this rascally plot of
yours? Shame on such cowards, I say, that serve
their country as a dog follows his master, because he
gives him a bone!”

“What! you'll betray us—you'll turn spy and telltale,
will you, you chicken-hearted puppy? I never
knew a fellow that refused to drink with his companions,
but would betray them the first chance that came.
But we'll soon stop your wind-pipe for you, if you don't
swear pine blank never to say a word about what
you've just seen and heared. Tell tales of your messmates—
a pretty fellow! come, give us your 'davy that
you won't 'peach to-morrow,” replied the old corporal.

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

“Not unless you will all swear to abandon your
project, and never allow your tongues such liberty
again. If not, I'll have you all up to-morrow, as sure
as I stand here.”

“You've made up your mind to blab, then,” cried
the other, rising, and staggering towards the corner
where their arms were deposited. “I'll tell you what—
damme what was I saying? before you shall bring us
to the bull-ring—we—will lay you as flat as a flounder—
where you—you shall never get up again except—
ex—at the sound of the last trumpet. Swear—
I say mister gentleman volunteer, or you're as good
as ten dead men. Hip, boys! every man to his arms—
lay hold of the spying rascal, we'll carry him to the
rock just by, push him off, and nobody will be the
wiser for it to-morrow—he'll be snowed under before
that time—lay hold, and gag him!”

The whole party obeyed the order, and were about
to seize their weapons in the corner, when John, placing
himself on guard over that important position,
brandished his sword, exclaiming:

“The first that approaches is a dead man! mind, I
don't wish to hurt you, for you don't know what you
are doing, and I'd as soon eat carrion, as fight with
such staggering bullies. Stand off, I say, I'll not use
my sword against you, but if you come within reach
of my fist, I'll strike fire out of your eyes, brighter
than they ever flashed before.”

This threat, joined to the menacing attitude of the
young volunteer, brought the others to a momentary
pause. But it is the instinct of drunkenness to thrust
its head into the fire; and, accordingly, with threats

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

and bitter imprecations, the whole party staggered
forward, pell-mell, the consequence of which was,
that one by one they were laid sprawling on the
ground, leaving John unhurt, and master of the field.
A dead silence now prevailed for a moment, except
that the wind howled, the door shook, and the chimney
roared like distant thunder. Presently, however,
voices were heard without, and a push was made at
the door, which opened to a patrol, that entered without
ceremony. They were going the rounds, and had
been attracted to the spot by the confused hum of
voices, all at once succeeded by death-like silence.

John was seen standing guard over the arms, while
the rest of the party lay some on the ground, perfectly
quiet, and others stood see-sawing fore and aft, the
blood streaming down their faces. The officer demanded
an explanation, but received no reply. John
could not find in his heart to become the accuser of
his companions in arms, and the others had nothing
to say. At length, the demand being repeated, the
old corporal, who had been pretty well sobered by the
tremendous thumps he received, aided by the apprehension
of probable consequences if the truth came
out, gathered himself together, and told the story with
great accuracy, only making a single mistake, by putting
himself and his companions in the place of John,
and John in the position of the mutineers. By this
simple arrangement, it appeared that the young volunteer
had invited the party, seduced them into a debauch,
incited them to desert, and finally beaten them
almost to death for rejecting his proposal. “May I
never live to see my country free,” concluded the

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

corporal, “if I ever saw such a fury as that young chap
is in his liquor!”

John, though gifted with strong nerves, and great
presence of mind, stood confounded by the audacity
of the corporal, whose story was straightway endorsed
by the rest of the party, with the exception of honest
Hack Foster, who was lying on the ground fast asleep,
or only pretending to be so, snoring like a brave fellow.
The officer perceiving some incongruity in the
story, arising from the fact that John appeared to be
the only sober man in the company, decided on taking
the whole party into custody, and accordingly gallanted
them to the guard-house for further examination
next morning, when an inquiry was had before a
commission of officers, over which General McDougal
presided. The old corporal persisted in his story, and
was sustained by all his companions, with the exception
of Hack Foster, who had become so ill that
he was sent to the hospital, and his testimony dispensed
with. John was then called on for his defence,
which he made with great clearness and precision,
and with an air of truth that failed not to make a
favourable impression. But the odds were too much
against him; and, besides, the accuser, on such occasions,
has always eleven points of the law in his favour.
He was finally placed in custody to await his
trial for offences made capital by the articles of war.

Here was likely to be a precious end to all his aspirations
of love and glory, since the same testimony
which proved sufficient for his committal, would suffice
for his condemnation. What would his countrymen,
and what would his mistress say of him, now that he

[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

lay under the imputation of a baseness, the very
thought of which stung him to the quick, and made
him sick at heart. Instead of honour and renown,
such as he had treasured up as the end of all his efforts,
he was now belike, to become a mark for the finger
of scorn, a bye-word to express the lowest grade of
infamy; a disgrace to his name, his cause, and his country;
a thorn in the bosom of the chosen of his heart;
a convicted traitor, who had fallen himself, and attempted
to drag others down with him to the lowest pit
of infamy. “Heaven and earth,” would he exclaim
mentally, as he smote his forehead, “what will Jane
think of me? She will believe I am guilty, and instead
of lamenting my death, abhor my very name,
and thrill with horror at the thought of having plighted
her faith to one who was not only a traitor himself,
but a seducer of others.”

In these, and such like bitter contemplations of the
past and the future, he was occupying his time, when
the entrance of the captain interrupted his reverie.
The latter had been absent some days, for a purpose
not connected with the course of our tale. The
old soldier stood before him sad and stern, for a moment,
after which he abruptly demanded of him to
declare on his honour, and in the sight of his Maker,
as if with his last breath, if he were guilty of the
crime of which he stood accused. With a clear voice,
and a clear eye, John denied the charge, relating, minutely,
every circumstance of the affair, which had
taken such an unlucky turn for him. The detail carried
conviction to the heart of the parent. The good
man grasped his hand with more than usual fervour,

[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

as the thought came over him, that however innocently,
nay, commendably he might have acted, the
unfortunate youth was now, in all probability, to become
a victim to the guilt of others. “Farewell, my
son,” said he, “and keep a good heart, I am going to
do everything that can be done to save your life and
honour; though, if these scoundrels persist in their
story, and do not contradict each other, I have no
hope for you. You must make up your mind for the
worst. If you are to die even a disgraceful death, it
is still some credit to die like a man. This I know
you will do, and though I may not die with you, my
son, I will seek the first opportunity to die for my
country, that at least one of the name may be buried
with honour.”

The captain, whose dress, air, and expression of
face, had something of the pathetic in them, bade the
young volunteer farewell, once more, and then departed
on his melancholy—almost hopeless errand. As he
proceeded with lingering steps, and John gazed on his
mean attire, his almost worn out frame, his gray curls,
which, from long neglect, now clustered carelessly
about his ears and forehead, he was deeply affected
with a mingled emotion of sorrow and pride. The
tears came into his eyes, and he thought to himself,
what honest worth, steady unpretending bravery, and
sterling patriotism, ennobled that ragged, rusty, warworn
old soldier.

The first thought of the captain, was to summon
the accusers of his son, who all belonged to his company,
for the purpose of questioning them closely, and
comparing their testimony, in order to detect some

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

contradiction or inconsistency. But against this, his
sense of honour and propriety revolted. It might seem
as if he was tampering with his soldiers, and using
his authority and influence to induce them to prevaricate,
in order to screen his guilty son from merited
punishment. He accordingly determined patiently to
await the decision of the court-martial, and should
the unfortunate young man be convicted, take the
course which honour and patriotism pointed out. Believing
him innocent, he could conscientiously solicit
his pardon.

The day of trial at length came, and the accusing
witnesses having been well drilled by the old corporal,
repeated their testimony without varying from that
given on the previous occasion, or from each other.
They were aware that their own lives depended on convicting
John, who, if acquitted, would, without doubt,
become their accuser. To their united testimony he
had nothing to oppose, but his own bare word; and,
though his account of the affair was given with a
clearness, condour, and manliness, that made a most
favourable impression, he was finally sentenced to be
shot. It ought to be here mentioned, that the testimony
of Hack Foster was not taken, he being confined
in the hospital with a raging fever, accompanied
by delirium.

During the period between sentence and execution,
the unhappy father was employed incessantly in soliciting
the pardon of his son, but his efforts were unavailing.
It was deemed indispensable to check such
attempts on the inflammable materials of a suffering
army, in the bud. Much dissipation, and many cabals

[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

had already been overlooked, in consideration of the
hardships and privations of the soldiers; but it was
now deemed indispensable that an example should be
made, in order to repress a spirit which threatened
the dissolution of the army, and the ruin of the cause.
The decision of the court-martial was therefore confirmed,
and the youth cautioned to prepare for a fate
which was now inevitable.

Having lost all hope of pardon, the old weather-worn
soldier bent his steps towards the guard-house,
where the son lingered in hopeless resignation, if that
may be so called which consisted in utter recklessness,
whether his father succeeded in his solicitations
or not. If pardoned, he was forever a disgraced man,
who could never afterwards look his country or his
mistress in the face; and if any hope lingered in his
heart, it was, that possibly some one of his accusers
might, in a moment of awakened conscience, be
brought to a confession of his perjuries. Nothing
but this could retrieve his blasted reputation, or restore
him to the station he once occupied among the
defenders of his country. He felt that if he lived, his
life would be divested of all that makes it worth preserving;
that wherever he went, he would carry the
burning brand of disgrace on his forehead, the burden
of dishonour, which bears as heavy on the shoulders
of the son of a farmer, as the offspring of a king; and,
above all, he remembered, that come death, come life,
Jane was lost to him forever. She who loved him
because he loved his country, would never mix her
being with a reprieved traitor; nor would the high-spirited
old colonel, who, with all his foibles was a

[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]

man of honour, ever be brought to give his only child
to one who could confer on her nothing but a disgraced
name. If, at times, he wished to live, it was only in
the latent hope that, at some future period, he might
be permitted to die in the cause of freedom, and thus
entitle himself to the pity, if not the forgiveness of
his country.

When, therefore, the father entered the prison, the
son addressed him in a cheerful tone, for he saw by
his countenance that his fate was determined. He
felt for the old soldier, and wished to comfort him by
showing he was not afraid to die.

“Father,” said he, “I see by your look and your
walk that all is decided, and I rejoice it is so. I do
not wish to live, but on one condition, which is now
all but hopeless. If I could preserve my honour with
my life, I would grasp at it eagerly. But of this,
there is now no prospect. Tell me, my father; do
not be afraid.”

“It is all over, my son. To-morrow you are to be
shot by your countrymen. I had hoped that if shot at
all, it would have been by your enemies in defending
your country. But the will of God be done.”

“Amen—so be it. I have now but one consolation,
I shall die an innocent man; and hope that, by thus
suffering here for an offence I never committed, I may
obtain pardon hereafter for those of which I have
been guilty.”

“Say no more—say no more, John. You only make
it more hard to part with you,” and the old soldier
shed tears.

“Father,” said the young man, after a pause, “I

[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]

have a request to make of you,” and he paused again,
overcome by his feelings. “Father, you are acquainted
with Colonel Hammond and his daughter. I ought
to have told you before, that she was to have been my
wife, on conditions which can now never be fulfilled.
Here is a letter, I wish, I entreat you, to send as directed,
by the first opportunity.”

He then proceeded to relate what the reader is already
acquainted with, and concluded in a tone of
bitter despondency.

“All my hopes are now forever blasted. Instead of
coming home with honour to claim the colonel's promise,
I am going to my grave, where I can claim nothing
but infamy. Had I died in defence of my country,
and its cause, Jane would have cherished my memory
and recollected me with pride; but now, unless
she should believe my last words to her, she will, if
she remembers me at all, only cherish a serpent in her
bosom to sting her to death. Still, I could not make
up my mind to die without one last effort to preserve
an honourable place in her memory, and to implant
in one pure heart, at least, a feeling of pity unaccompanied
by contempt and abhorrence. Will you be
sure that she gets this letter, sir?”

The sorrowing old man received the letter in silence,
for he could not speak; but there was that in
his silence which gave a solemn pledge that it should
be as John wished. That night they passed together,
in sad communion on subjects to which the near approach
of an eternal separation gave a painful and
affecting interest. As daylight dawned, and when the
morning gun announced the rising sun, John begged

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

his father to leave him for an hour, as he wished to
be alone. The good man understood him, and he was
left to prepare for his last great trial. But the captain
did not go far. He remained pacing to and fro
in front of the guard-house, with such an air of deep
and overwhelming sorrow, that the sentinel regretted
he had not proposed to John to escape the night before.
At the expiration of the hour, he returned, and
sat down to breakfast with his son. But neither ate
anything, and they were sitting in mournful silence
chewing the cud of bitter fancies, when the distant
roll of the drum roused them from their deep despondency.

“The hour is come!” exclaimed John, starting upon
his feet, as if the signal was a relief.

“My son,” said the captain, “there is one thing I
must tell you, for you ought to know it. Do not think
hardly of your father when you see the very men who
swore away your life, drafted to execute the sentence,
and learn, as perhaps you may, that it was at my earnest
solicitation. I had my motives for this, but if they
should not be answered, I beseech you to die blessing
me—will you?”

“With my last breath,” cried John, throwing himself
on his bosom.

A guard now appeared to conduct the young volunteer
to the spot, whence his soul was to take its flight
to the region of immortality. To make the example
more impressive and awful, the whole army was
drawn up in a line to witness the spectacle, and take
warning from the example. It was a grand and impressive
scene, in which both nature and art combined

[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

to produce sublimity. The pure, unsullied snow, soon
to be sprinkled with the blood of the victim, not of
his own guilt, but that of others, lay like a winding-sheet
over the dead body of nature, save where the
dark projecting masses of precipitous rocks presented
a gloomy contrast to the whiteness all around; the
sun glistened on the snow-capt peaks of the western
shore; the smoke from a thousand huts curled upwards,
in perpendicular columns, to the skies; the air
was death-like calm, the atmosphere pure and transparent;
the soldiers stood under arms, silent and immovable;
the stern music of war roused the echoes
of the Highlands, as the young volunteer was brought
forth to receive his doom.

He walked with a firm step, escorted by a guard,
towards the place of execution, and preceded by his
coffin borne by two soldiers. His dress was a white
cotton gown, resembling a winding-sheet, and over
the spot where his heart beat, was placed the representation
of a heart painted black to serve as a mark
for his executioners. The procession moved forward
with measured steps to the music of the dead march
of Old Rosin Castle, played by muffled drums and
mournful fifes, to a large, open field, in the centre of
which was a heap of fresh earth, which marked the
spot where the young soldier was to meet his death
and find his grave. Around this, the whole army was
drawn up in a hollow square to witness the ceremony.
The coffin was placed beside the grave. He was
told to kneel down on the former, and the officer, under
whose direction the execution was to take place,
was about to tie a white cap over his head, when he

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

so earnestly entreated that he might be permitted to
look his accusers in the face, that his request was
granted. His kneeling was the signal for the executioners
to advance, and they came forward, taking
their station some twelve or fifteen yards distant,
flinching, like guilty cowards, as John looked them
sternly in the face. The officer raised his sword, the
signal for taking aim. He then struck the drum a
single tap, and the echoes of the guns leaped from hill
to hill till they died in the distance. The smoke cleared
away, and the young volunteer was seen still kneeling
on his coffin, apparently unhurt.

“Scoundrels!” exclaimed the officer, who gave the
command to fire, “load again, and see that you take
better aim, or you may fill the place of yonder soldier.”

Their guns were this time loaded under the immediate
inspection of the officer, and while this was doing,
the captain walked deliberately past, giving a
look of mingled reproach and entreaty, which they
well understood. Again the officer raised his sword,
and paused a moment, to give them time to take aim,
before he struck the drum.

At this instant, Aaron Cronk threw down his gun,
and exclaimed:

“Don't strike! he is as innocent as the general
himself!”

This assertion, of course, arrested the ceremony;
Cronk and his companions were immediately carried
to head-quarters; and, being confronted with Aaron,
finally confessed the whole conspiracy. Hack Foster,
also, who had his conscience awakened by the fear of
death, now came forward to make a disclosure, and

[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]

John was declared not only innocent, but entitled to
the highest praise, by the unanimous voice of the
whole army. “Young soldier, if I don't mistake, you
are just such a man as I have occasion for at times.
We shall be better acquainted, soon,” said the father
of his country, as he condescended to congratulate
him on his providential escape.

We pass over the scene between father and son,
after this strange adventure, in order to explain the
seeming miracle of his escape from the first fire of his
executioners. It is certain, that the great majority of
villains, consists of men, who, though perhaps they
would not shrink from swearing away the life of a
fellow-creature, are brought with difficulty to witness
and still greater, to become the actual instruments of
his execution. Their imaginations, are, indeed, familiarized
with guilt, but their senses shrink from its perpetration.
Of this class, were the accusers of our
hero. They could endure the thought of having caused
his death by wilfully forswearing themselves; nay,
they could endure to hear of his execution, or, even
to become witnesses to the catastrophe, but they could
not bear to inflict the deed with their own hands.
This required a degree of hardened insensibility to
which they had not yet attained.

When, therefore, at the earnest instances of the
captain, they had been selected to put the sentence in
execution, they were horror-stricken; for, such is the
pliability of a seared conscience, that it is prone to
make distinctions in its own favour, where none exist
in the code of moral guilt. There was, however, no
escape; and each one, without communicating with

[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]

his comrade, settled in his own mind to evade the consummation
of his crime, by firing wide of the mark.
Thus, though the young man would undoubtedly be
killed, all imagined they would be innocent of his
actual murder. The result has been just detailed.
When, however, they were ordered to fire a second
time, and with such an ominous intimation of the
consequences of again missing, all but Aaron Cronk,
decided that self-preservation required them to take
good aim this time. Aaron, however, could not go the
length of such atrocity, and, accordingly grounded
his arms, and surrendered at discretion. Thus was
the life of an innocent man preserved as if by miracle;
and thus was triumphant guilt arrested in the final
moment of its consummation. The mutineers were
tried and condemned to be shot, with the exception
of Cronk and Foster, who were drummed out of the
army. The others, however, managed to escape, and
were, without doubt, sooner or later overtaken by the
justice of heaven.