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

The scene of our story changes to the vicinity of the Hudson,
to which the eyes of millions were now turned as the theatre
of approaching events, on which hung, perhaps, the great issue
of the American revolution. Although both parties seemed to
look upon the matter at stake as one of immense magnitude, yet
far different were the views and feelings which, at this time, pervaded
the two opposing armies. The British, flushed by their
successes, and confident in that strength before which every opposing
obstacle had thus far given way, were looking down with
little other than absolute contempt on the American forces in
their front, believing them wholly incapable, either from numbers
or courage, of opposing any serious resistance to their march,
when they chose to move forward. And here thus lay their
proud and infatuated chief for weeks, dreaming of coronets,
frittering away the time in feasting with his officers, and indulging
himself and them in all the follies which characterized their
gay and licentious camp. On the other hand, the Americans,
deeply sensible of the consequence of suffering their enemies to
effect their contemplated junction at Albany, were vigilant, active,
and determined. Though firmly resolved to dispute the way of
the invader to the death when they must, they yet preferred, for
a while, the policy of embarrassing and impeding him, rather
than openly exposing themselves to his attacks. Whole brigades
were therefore employed in the work of destroying the bridges,
blocking up the roads with fallen trees, and putting every possible
obstruction in the way of his advance, so that his delay, where he
now lay at Fort Ann, might be protracted till a sufficient force
could be gathered to meet him with a more reasonable hope of
success.

And every hour that hope waxed stronger and stronger. Every
day brought fresh accessions of strength to their self-devoted
bands, and every gale wafted to their gladdened ears the sounds
of the warlike preparations of an aroused and indignant people

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

gathering from afar to the rescue; and they began to breathe
more freely while they thought, as with trembling solicitude
they still did, of the fearful meeting that must now soon follow.

At the time which we have selected for opening the scene
that forms the next connecting link in the chain of our tale,
although the road had been at length opened, and a few detachments
thrown forward to the Hudson, the main part of the British
army still lay at Fort Ann; where their long lines of tents,
marked, at intervals, by the colors of the different regiments
flying from their slender flagstaffs, were now seen stretching,
a city of canvas, over the plain. A little apart from this imposing
array stood a small number of dwelling-houses of different
sizes, irregularly scattered along on both sides of the road
towards the south, over the largest of which floated the broad
British flag, proclaiming it the head-quarters of the commanderin-chief.
The next, in size and commodiousness, among these
various structures, — all now occupied by the general officers and
other favored personages of the army, — was a large, low farmhouse,
which the intermingling devices of the British and Hanoverian
flags, conspicuously displayed from the roof, denoted to
be the quarters of General Reidesel, suite, and well-known family.
This last building seemed now to be the principal point of attraction.
Gayly dressed officers and ladies were seen entering the doors, or
standing inside at the open windows; while the sounds of the
familiar greetings, lively sallies, and merry laughter of the assembled
and assembling company, sufficiently indicated the convivial
character of the scene about to be enacted within. Let us
enter. Around a long and richly-furnished table, in the principal
apartment, were just seated those who deemed themselves the
élite of that boastful army. Its notorious chief, the weak and
wise, vain-glorious and energetic Burgoyne, occupied the post
of honor, at the head, and the fair hostess, the amiable, learned,
and vivacious Countess of Reidesel, the foot of the table; while,
at the sides, were ranged, according to the prevailing notions
of precedence, the variously-ranked individuals composing the
rest of the company, among whom, with other officers of less
note, were Generals Reidesel and Frazier, Major Ackland and
his devoted wife, together with several Americans, including the
elated Esquire Haviland and his beautiful daughter. The latter,
who, sorely against her inclinations, had been prevailed on, or
rather constrained, by her father to attend him to the entertainment,
was seated by the side of Lady Ackland, to whom she

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

seemed shrinkingly to cling as a sort of shield against the free
glances she was compelled to encounter from the eyes of those
whom it was there counted treason to repulse.

The feast proceeded. With the constant bandying of compliment,
joke, and repartee, among the merry and self-satisfied lordlings
who assumed the right of engrossing the conversation,
course after course came and passed in rapid succession, till a
sufficient variety of viands and other substantial esculents had
been served to warrant the introduction of the lighter delicacies
of the dessert. But still there seemed to be a saving of appetite,
a looking for some expected dish that had not yet made its appearance,
on the part of several of the guests, and especially
on that of the pompous votary of Mars, who had been installed
master of the ceremonies, and who at length ventured to say, —

“I had looked, my lady hostess, to have seen, ere this, among
your many other delectables, the fulfilment of your ladyship's
promise gracing the table, in the shape of the blackbird pie,
wherewith we were to be regaled, at your entertainment, if your
polite note of invitation was rightly read and interpreted.”

“O, the blackbird pie!” replied the countess, with a sprightly
air and a charming touch of the German brogue. “I was waiting
to be reminded of that; for there is a condition, which I wish
to propose to your excellency, before the promised extra can make
its appearance.”

“Ah! What is that, my incomparable cateress?” asked the
former.

“Why, only that you carve and serve the pie to the company
yourself, mon general,” archly replied the countess.

“A challenge to your chivalry, general, which no true knight
can refuse to accept,” cried Frazier and others.

“I yield me, and accede to the condition,” said Burgoyne,
gracefully waving his jewelled hand, and joining in the general
laugh.

“It is well,” said the countess, with a finely-assumed air of
mock gravity, as she raised her exquisite little table bell, which
now, under her rapidly-plied fingers, sent its sharp jingle through
the house.

The next moment, a liveried servant, whose countenance
seemed slyly gleaming with some suppressed merriment, was
seen advancing with a broad, deep dish, tastefully crowned by
the swelling crust of snow-white pastry, which tightly enclosed
the supposed contents beneath.

At a motion of the indicating finger of the hostess, the

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

tempting dish was brought forward, and carefully placed on the table
before the many-titled carver, amid a shower of compliments to
the distinguished artificer of so fine an edible structure, from him
and many others of the admiring company. The general now
rose, and, intent only on a dexterous performance of the duties
of his new vocation, gave a preliminary flourish of knife and
fork, and dashed into the middle of the pie; when lo! through
the rent thus made in the imprisoning crust, out flew half a scoro
of live blackbirds, which, fluttering up and scattering over the
dodging heads of the astonished guests, made for the open windows,
and escaped, with loud chirping cries, to their native
meadows! At first, a slight exclamation from the gentlemen, a
half shriek from the ladies, then a momentary pause, and then
one universal burst of uproarious laughter, followed this strange
dénouement of the little plot of the playful countess. She, it
appeared, had engaged a fowler to bring her a couple of dozens
of blackbirds, which, by a net, he had taken, and brought to her
alive; when, keeping part as they were, she contrived up the
scheme to amuse and surprise her guests here described, and,
slaying the rest, made of them a veritable pie, that was now
brought forward, and partaken, with great gusto, by the delighted
company.

At length the cloth was removed, and the table replenished
with bottles and glasses. Then followed the usual round of
toasts — “the health of the king,” — “the invincibility of British
arms,” — “success to the present expedition,” — and, with many
a deriding epithet, “confusion to the rebels and their ragged army.”

“Fill, gentlemen,” said Burgoyne, after the subjects above
named had been sufficiently exhausted — “fill up your glasses
once more; for, in descanting on the public responsibilities and
glory of the soldier, let us not be unmindful of those private felicities
which are to reward his prowess. I give you,” he added,
with a significant glance at our heroine — “I give you, ladies and
gentlemen, the health and happiness of our two loyal American
officers, Colonel Peters and Captain Jones, the prospective bridegrooms
of the double wedding of to-morrow, extremely regretting
that both of the fair participants of the happy occasion, instead of
one, are not here to give the beautiful response of their blushes to
the sentiment.”

As the lively applause with which this toast was received and
drank was subsiding, the ladies, to the great relief of the astonished
and confused Miss Haviland, now rose and retired to
another apartment. Here, pleading some excuse for an

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

immediate departure, Sabrey hurried out through a back way, and
escaped unperceived to her father's quarters, a small adjoining
cottage, where she had lodged since his arrival in camp, and
where she now secluded herself, to endeavor to fathom the plot
which the unexpected and unwarranted announcement just indirectly
made, together with some other circumstances of recent
occurrence, plainly told was in progress to insnare her.

But it may here be necessary, for a clear understanding of
some things which have preceded and others which may follow,
to revert briefly to the experience of the luckless maiden since
placed in her present uncongenial and embarrassing position.

When Miss Haviland, on the termination of her compulsory
journey, arrived at the outposts of the British army, she was conducted,
by the order of some one evidently apprised of her coming,
immediately to her father's quarters. The old gentleman, at the
somewhat awkward meeting that now took place between them,
seemed both surprised and gratified at seeing her there; and
though his manner betrayed a sort of guilty embarrassment,
arising, perhaps, from the consciousness of his former harshness
to her, he yet at once, and pointedly, disclaimed having had any
agency in her abduction, which he laid to the chances of war; to
which, he contended, her perverse and unadvised conduct had
been the means of exposing her. Peters, also, who soon made
his appearance, joined in the disclaimer; and tendering some
empty apologies for what had happened, which, he said, grew
out of the mistake of a subordinate officer in construing an order
in relation to taking hostages from the enemy, in certain cases,
offered to convey her back, if she chose it, as soon as found consistent
with her safety. The offer, however, was never repeated;
and his own conduct very soon belied his assertions, and convinced
her of the truth of her suspicions from the first, that he
was the sole instigator of the outrage she had received, and that
it was still his purpose to detain her and keep her in a position
which would enable him the more effectually to prosecute his
designs; for although in the few formal calls he continued to
make at the house, he never pressed his suit, but seemed rather
to avoid the subject, as if determined to afford her no opportunity
to repeat her former refusals, she yet quickly perceived that he
was busy at his intrigues to bring about, by the agency of others,
and by secret management, what by himself, or by any open
and honorable means, he despaired of accomplishing. All this,
from day to day, unfolded itself in the renewed importunities
and reproaches of her father, the added entreaties of Jones, the

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

lover of Miss McRea, then soon expected in the British camp to
be married, in the reports which had been put in circulation to
place her in a false light, — that of a perverse and coquettish
girl, — in the efforts made to force her into social parties, where
the opinions of all were obviously forestalled, and especially in
the contrived introductions she was compelled to undergo to those
who had evidently been enlisted as intercessors, among whom
were some whose ambiguous conduct often greatly annoyed, and,
at times, even filled her bosom with perplexity and alarm.

Such was the position of the unhappy girl at the time of her
reluctant attendance as one of the guests of the merry party we
have described. Although annoyed, sickened, and disgusted at
what she had daily witnessed, and vexed and indignant at the contemptible
artifices and intrigues of Peters, which, however intended,
were beginning to be the means of exposing her to new
trials, yet, till what took place at that party, she had entertained no
serious apprehension that any attempt would be made to coerce
her into a marriage which she had so decidedly repudiated.

But the announcement which had just been so strangely made,
coming as it did from so powerful a personage, and one, at the
same time, whose equivocal behavior, when she had casually met
him, had excited her deepest aversion, now gave her to understand
that such an attempt was indeed about to be made by the
assumed arbiters of her fate, and that her resistance to the contemplated
scheme, should she be able to make one against the
overawing influence that was about to be brought to bear upon
her, and even her acquiescence, she feared, was to be followed by
persecutions, from the thought of which she shrunk with dismay.
She might have taken that announcement, perhaps, as a mere
ruse, as in part it really was, got up to place her in a predicament
in which most females would yield rather than become the principal
actor in the scene that would follow further resistance; or
she might have viewed the whole as a contemptible fabrication,
but for a circumstance of that morning's occurrence. Captain
Jones had called and apprised her that he was about sending an
escort to Fort Edward for his betrothed, informed her that the
next morning was appointed for his wedding, and concluded by
making his last appeal to induce her to consent to be united to
Peters at the same time.

And it was this occurrence, in connection with the former, that
had so thoroughly alarmed her.

While pondering on the means and chances of escaping the
threatened destiny, she perceived from her window that the

[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]

company at Reidesel's had broken up, and were scattering to their
respective quarters. And presently her father entered her room,
and after announcing that he had been honored by the commander-in-chief
with a mission to Skenesboro', from which he
should not be able to return till late at night, presented her a
sealed billet, and immediately departed. With a trembling hand
she opened the suspected missive and read, —

“Miss Haviland will pardon the mistake involved in the sentiment
delivered at Lady Reidesel's table. Its author, however,
cannot but think that the full arrangement which he had supposed
to have been already settled may still be effected in season. And
he therefore proposes, if Miss H. will permit, a call for friendly
intercession, at twilight this evening.”

With a flushed and flashing countenance the offended maiden
instantly sprang to her feet, and paced the room several minutes
in silent agitation. Her naturally mild spirit was at length evidently
aroused for some decided action; and the manner in which
it was to be commenced appeared soon to be determined in her
mind.

“Ay, and the step, as bold as it may be, shall first be taken,” she
said, as, preparing to leave the house, her burning thoughts began
to press for utterance. “Ay, if it will not avail me, in bringing
aid to escape from this den of iniquity, or protection to remain,
it shall, at least, serve as a proclamation of villany, which shall
yet be heard in every house and hamlet of the American people!”

The next moment she was in the street; and, with hurried step,
making her way to General Reidesel's quarters. Instantly seeking
a private interview with the readily assenting countess, she
frankly and without reserve told the whole story of her wrongs,
and implored assistance in escaping the toils that had been spread
for her, or, at least, the protecting shield of an influence which
should enable her to withstand them. And the effect of her
forceful recital soon showed her that she had not over-estimated
the discernment and magnanimity of the noble lady she was addressing.

“Well, that is right, my bonny rebel, as they call you!” said
the countess, encouragingly. “And it is the spirit in a woman
which I like, and which I will have no hand in repressing. Yes,
I see clearly, now, what I half suspected before — the man who had
you brought here, where he could more surely noose you, is repugnant
even to the misery; and some of those he has been fool
enough to enlist as intercessors, are still more dreaded. Ah!

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

wicked, wicked Briton! But, do you know, he is king here;
and that it is treason to talk, and worse treason to try to thwart
him?”

“I have greatly feared so, my lady.”

“What, then, do you propose to do, wherein I could befriend
you?”

“Leave the army before night.”

“Have you a carriage at command, and a protector?”

“I have, strictly speaking, neither, madam.”

“Then how can you go?”

“On foot, and alone, unless I chance to engage one to attend
me in the character of a servant.”

“You are a brave one, my young lady. But they will be likely
to detain you at the outposts.”

“I had supposed so, and therefore came here with the hope
that, after you had heard my story, you might be moved to prevail
on your husband to give me a pass.”

“O girl, girl! No, no, he would not dare to do it, after finding
out the cause, which he must first know,” exclaimed the lady, in
a tone of kindly remonstrance. “He would dare do no such thing.
But I would, in such a case; indeed I would! And, stay, let
me see!” she continued, rising and opening the general's desk.
“Here are several passes which he keeps for occasions of hurry,
all signed off and ready, except inserting the name of the bearer.
O, what shall I do? I am tempted to write your name in one,
and trust to your honor and shrewdness to shield me, in case of
your failure, from exposure and blame.”

“Will your hand-writing be acknowledged, madam?”

“O, yes, I don't hesitate on that account; for I often fill up
the general's passes under his direction.”

“O, then, dear madam, as I know you would do by a daughter,
do by me — trust to my discretion, and hesitate no longer.”

The good-hearted countess soon yielded, and our heroine, with
tears of gratitude, mutely imprinted a farewell kiss on her cheek,
and departed with the coveted pass in her pocket.

When Miss Haviland reached her chamber, she seated herself
by an open, but partially curtained window, where, unseen herself,
she could easily note what was passing in the street below,
to which her attention seemed somewhat anxiously directed. She
had been but a few minutes at her post of observation, before she
was apprised, by the hooting of boys, and the gibes and laughter
of the idling soldiers, with whom the street, at this hour, was
commonly thronged, that some unusual spectacle was

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

approaching. And peering forward through the folds of the curtains, she
beheld, amidst a slowly-advancing crowd, a meanly-clad, simplelooking
country youth, wearing a ragged broad-brim, and mounted
on an unsightly, donkey-like beast, whose long tail and mane
were stuck full of briers, and whose hair, lying in every direction,
seemed besmeared with mange and dirt; all combining
to give both horse and rider a most ungainly and poverty-struck
appearance. The fellow was trying to peddle apples, which he
carried in an old pair of panniers swung across his pony's back,
and which seemed to be bought mostly by the boys, who with
them were pelting him and his cringing pony, to the great mirth
of the bystanders. While the crowd, and the object of their attention,
were thus engaged, at a little distance, an officer, who was
passing, paused near the house, and, calling a couple of soldiers
to his side, said to them, —

“Keep your eyes on that fellow with the scurvy pony yonder,
and if you notice any thing suspicious in his movements, arrest
him. It appears to me I have seen him in almost too many
places to-day.”

An expression of concern passed over Sabrey's countenance,
as she heard these words, and she gave an involuntary glance to
the object thus pointed out, who, as she thought from his appearance,
had also heard the order himself, or at least guessed its
import. But instead of making off, as she expected, he spurred
up his pony, and, coming directly up to the officer, asked him,
with an air of confiding simplicity, to buy some of his apples,
which he said were “eny most ripe, and grand for pies.”

“Who are you, fellow?” said the officer, without heeding the
other's request.

“Who I be? I am Jo Wilkins. But aint you going to buy
some of the apples?” persisted the former.

“Blast your apples!” impatiently replied the officer; “that
is not what I want of you. Where do you live?”

“Up in the edge of Arlington, when I'm tu hum — next house
to uncle Jake's great burnt piece there, you know,” answered
the other; “but these ap —”

“Whom are you for? King or Congress?” interrupted the
officer.

“Who be Congus? I don't know him,” said the former, with
a doubtful stare.

“Well, then, whom do you fight for?” resumed the somewhat
mollified officer.

“Don't fight for nobody tu our house, — cause dad's a
Quaker — but then if you'd buy —”

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

“Yes, yes; but you must tell me, honestly, what you came
here for to-day, and who sent you, my lad.”

“Why, dad sent me to sell the apples, cause he wants the
money to buy some rye with. But I've been all round, and aint
sell'd half, they kept bothering me so. And now its time to go
hum, and nobody won't buy 'em!” said the speaker, with a
doleful tone, and evident signs of snivelling.

“Well, well, my honest lad,” responded the commiserating
and now satisfied officer; “don't mind it — nobody wants to
harm you. There is half a crown to pay you for my part of the
bothering.”

“Why, you going to buy 'em all?” eagerly asked the other,
as, with a grin of delight, he clutched the precious metal.

“No, no,” said the former, kindly. “I don't wish for any of
your apples — they are too green, though they may do for
cooking. You would be most likely to sell them in some of these
houses.”

“Well, now, I vown! I never thought of that! jest's likely's
not I mought, you!” exclaimed the fellow, brightening up.
“Good mind to go right straight into this ere house and try it —
will, by golly!” he added, leaping nimbly from his pony, swinging
his panniers on his arm, and hurrying off round for the back
door.

“Don't molest the poor simpleton any more, but disperse to
your quarters,” said the officer, now waving his ratan to the
scattering crowd; and resuming his walk up the street.

Waiting no longer than to hear this order, and see that it was
about to be obeyed by the crowd, Sabrey hurried down to the
kitchen, where she encountered the object of her solicitude
standing within the door, holding up the half crown between the
fingers of one hand, and snapping those of the other, with a look
that needed no interpreting.

“Your disguise, Bart,” said the maiden, looking at the other
with a smile — “your disguise is so perfect, or rather, the new
character, in which you this time appear, has been so well acted,
that had it not been the afternoon you set for your third appearance,
I should have never known you. I think you make a better
Quaker boy than you did a crazy man last time, or buffoon and
tumbler the first one. But what have you been able to gather,
to-day?”

“Pretty much all that's afoot, guess. The movement on
Bennington is begun. Peters's corps of tories and Indians have
gone on to Cambridge; and he, who is off to the lake, to-day, to

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

consult with Skene and others about the expedition, is to follow,
some time to-morrow, as is the German regiment picked out for
the service. Got at it all, think?”

“Nearly. It is the plan, however, I understand, that when
the stores are secured at Bennington, the troops are to proceed to
Manchester, make prisoners of all the Council of Safety, and
others of the principal men whom they can find, and return
through Arlington.”

“They've got to get there, first, guess, and then catch 'em
afterwards. But have you fixed out a letter about that and other
things, ready for me to take? I'm aching to be off with the
news.”

“No, Bart. I have just discovered plots to entrap me that have
made me resolve to die before I will remain here any longer.
My old persecutor, and others a thousand times more powerful,
are in league against me.”

“The girl that killed the wolf would stand the racket against
big bugs and all, rather guess, if she tried it. Don't know, though,
being about woman matters so.”

“Ay, sir, to a woman there are human monsters more terrible
than all the wolves of the forest. And I am determined on attempting
to escape from this place without another hour's delay;
with you, if you will permit.”

“Yes, glad to go into it; and by Captain Harry's request, I
was a going to propose the same thing myself, even without your
new reasons. But this getting you off before dark, which you
name, may be rather ticklish, miss. How did you think to
manage it?”

“Look at this, sir!” said Sabrey, exhibiting her permit by
way of reply. “Signed by a man whose authority, I think, will
not be questioned, and allowing me, with my servant, to pass
through the lines to my friends in the country. I engage you
to act as that servant, Bart.”

“I vags, now, if that aint lucky!” exclaimed the former,
with glistening eyes. “Yes, lucky enough, whether it come by
ploughing with heifers or steers. But, let's see a bit, though.
How will my turning servant to a lady, all at once, tally with
the stories I've been telling, — that is, till we get beyond all who
heard 'em? Don't know about that. But look here, miss!” he
added, beckoning the other to the window. “Do you see that
tall old pine, standing alone, nearly in a line with the road, a
mile or so off there, at the south?”

“Yes, very clearly.”

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

“Well, that tree, which is beyond, and out of sight of the last
pickets, stands near a house where a widow woman lives, who
washes fine clothes for some of the officers, but wants to keep in
with all sides, and so asks no questions and tells no stories. My
saddle and fixings are hard by there, in the bushes. Now, suppose
I go on there alone, and be scrubbing up Lightfoot, and
feeding her with these apples, to pay her for playing Quaker so
well. Can you get on to that place by the help of the pass, and
tell straight stories, if questioned, about your servant being at the
wash-woman's, fixing things?”

“If you think it wisest, as it may be, I will try, and be there
within an hour, if not detained. If I am, do not desert me, Bart,
but return to this kitchen at dusk.”

“Agreed! But you'll go it without the ifs, I reckon,” said
Bart, swinging his panniers to his shoulder, and departing with
full confidence in his ability to effect an escape perilous to
them both, but made much more so to him by the new charge he
had so cheerfully undertaken.

Previous section

Next section