"One of the best things Wayne ever did," said Smith, "was that manoeuvre of his in Virginia, where the British thought they had him surely in a net."

"What manoeuvre was that?" inquired Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"Why, you see, General Lafayette was endeavoring to avoid a general action with Cornwallis, and yet to harass him. Early in July, 1781, the British army marched from Williamsburg, and encamped on the banks of the James River, so as to cover a ford leading to the island of Jamestown. Soon after, the baggage and some of the troops passed the ford, but the main army kept its ground. Lafayette then moved from his encampment, crossed the Chichahominy, pushed his light troops near the British position, and advanced with the continentals to make an attempt on the British rear, after the main body had passed the river. The next day, the Marquis was told that the main body of the British had crossed the ford, and that a rear-guard only remained behind. This was what the British general wanted him to believe, and he posted his troops ready to receive our men. Well, General Wayne, with eight hundred men, chiefly of the Pennsylvania line, (including Mr. Harmar, Mr. Higgins, Mr. Wilson, and myself,) was ordered to advance against the enemy. Now, Wayne thought he had to fight a rear-guard only, and so he moved forward boldly and rapidly; but, in a short time, he found himself directly in front of the whole British army, drawn up to receive him. Retreat was impracticable, as the enemy then might have had a fair chance to kill or capture the whole detachment. Wayne thought that the best plan was to put on a bold face, and so he commenced the attack at once. A fierce and bloody struggle followed, and I'm not sure but we were gaining the advantage, when General Lafayette discovered the mistake and ordered a retreat, and we were compelled to fall back, leaving two cannon in the hands of the enemy. By General Wayne's presence of mind and courage, you see, we got off with but the loss of one hundred men. The British lost the same number."

"The Marquis was, of course, right in ordering a retreat," remarked young Harmar.

"I suppose so," replied Smith. "Our detachment might have made considerable havoc among the British, and, perhaps, if promptly supported, have maintained a long and doubtful battle. But General Lafayette wanted to save his men until a more certain contest could be brought about. He was a very young general—younger than Napoleon when he took command of the army of Italy; but all his movements about that time indicated that he was as skilful and vigilant as he was brave."

"Americans should ever be grateful to the memory of such a man as Lafayette," said old Harmar. "He was a true lover of liberty, and a staunch friend to this land when it most needed friends."

"And that reminds me," added young Harmar, "that I've a song here, which I wrote for one of the papers, in relation to Lafayette. It is arranged in the measure of the feeling melody of 'Auld Lang Syne.'"

"Sing it," said Mr. Smith; and the request was echoed by the rest. Mr. Jackson Harmar, therefore, after sundry excuses in the usual routine—that he had a cold, &c.—sang the following words in a very emphatic manner, with an occasional break in the high notes, and huskiness in the low ones.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot And never brought to mind? The friend that's true, remember'd not, And days of auld lang syne? For auld lang syne, my dear, We never can forget; When dangers press'd, and foes drew near, Our friend was Lafayette.

When first our fathers bravely drew 'Gainst tyrants and their laws, On wings of generous zeal he flew To aid the holy cause. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c.

He stemm'd the broad Atlantic wave; He vow'd they should be free; He led the bravest of the brave To death or victory. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c. Let Brandywine his glory tell, And Monmouth loud proclaim; Let York in triumph proudly swell The measure of his fame. For auld lang syne, my dear, &c.

Shall sons of freedom e'er forget, Till time shall cease to move, The debt they owe to Lafayette Of gratitude and love? For auld lang syne, my dear, &c.

The song was listened to with considerable pleasure by the company, and there was an occasional attempt, on the part of the veterans, to join in the chorus, which, however, ended in a slight cough and shaking of the head, as if the attempt was hopeless.

"There's good sentiment in that song," remarked Smith. "It stirs the heart."

"Mr. Harmar, did you say the piece was your own composition?" inquired Morton.

"It is one of my humble efforts," modestly replied Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"I'm very glad there are some young men left who can write something else besides the love trash that's so popular," said Mr. Higgins. Old men generally have a strong aversion or lofty contempt for everything relating to the love matters of youth.

"Everything has its time," was the sage remark of Mr. Jackson Harmar; "or, in the more popular phrase of Mr. Shakespeare, 'Every dog will have his day!'"

"I should like to see patriotic songs more popular," remarked Morton; and it is highly probable the conversation would have continued on this subject, but Mrs. Harmar and the children kept up a constant clamor for more stories, and old Harmar consented to amuse them and the rest of the company with a story which, he said, he had seen in several papers, and told in several different ways, none of which were correct. The true circumstances he would then relate in order that his son might make a story of it for his forthcoming work,—"Legends of the Times that tried Men's Souls."

STORY OF THE OUTLAW OF THE PINES.

"In the fall and winter of 1776," began Mr. Harmar, "the people of New Jersey experienced their full share of the miseries of civil war. During no period of the Revolutionary contest did the enemy's troops act more cruelly or more unlike civilized men. As they marched through the Jerseys, driving our poor 'rebel' army before them, they committed all kinds of outrages on helpless women and old men; but this conduct was destined to recoil upon the heads of the foe. The people were roused to resist the invaders, and the militia was organised throughout the State—silently but surely. Our victories at Trenton and Princeton were received as the signals for action. As the enemy retired on Brunswick, they were followed by the exasperated farmers, and harassed terribly. But, at the time when my story commences, the red-coats were in quiet possession of New Jersey, from Burlington to New York. General Washington had come over on this side of the Delaware.

"It was late in December. The weather was bitter cold, and the enemy seldom stirred from their quarters to visit the interior of the State. This respite would have been refreshing to the harassed farmer, if the withdrawal of the regular troops had not left free play for the more desperate servants of King George, or others who pretended to be such. One of these pretenders was named Fagan. He was the leader of about twenty ruffians as free from any particle of human feeling as himself. There was no romance about the black character of Fagan; he was a perfect wretch; he robbed for gain, and murdered to conceal the robbery. The hiding-place of the band was in the pine barrens of New Jersey, and they thence received the name of 'the pine robbers' from the people of the country. Their violence and cruelty towards women and even children had made them the terror of all classes. The whigs charged their doings on the tories and refugees; but the robbers were against both parties. They plundered a tory in the name of the continentals, and were true to the Crown when a whig chanced to be in their power.

"Well, I'm going to tell you about one of their exploits. Not many miles from Trenton, on the road to Bordentown, was the farm-house of Nathaniel Collins, a Quaker, but who was not strict enough for his sect. He was disowned by them on account of encouraging his two sons to join the continental army, and for showing a disposition to do the same himself. He was about sixty years old at the time of which I speak, but still a large, powerful man, with the glow of health on his cheek and intelligence in his eye. Though disowned by the Quaker sect, Nathaniel Collins retained their dress, manners, and habits, and always defended them from the attacks of their enemies.

"One night, the old Quaker, his wife Hannah, cousin Rachel, and daughter Amy, were sitting up till a very late hour. They expected Nathan's sons home from the Continental army. These sons had chosen the night to cross the river, to avoid the notice of the Hessians at Trenton. Well, the family waited till the clock struck one, but the sons did not appear, and Nathan was getting impatient. At last footsteps were heard on the road.

"'There they are at last!' eagerly exclaimed Amy.

"'Let me see,' said Nathan, as, with the placid manner characteristic of a Friend, he moved to a window which commanded a view of the kitchen door, at which a knocking had commenced. He could distinguish six men, armed and equipped like militia, and another, whose pinioned arms proclaimed him a prisoner. His sons were not of the party; and as the persons of the strangers were unknown, and the guise of a militia-man was often assumed by Fagan, our friend was not 'easy in his mind how to act.' His first idea was to feign deafness; but a second knock, loud enough to wake all but the dead, changed his intention—he raised the window and hailed the men:

"'Friends, what's your will?'

'A little refreshment of fire and food, if you please; we have been far on duty, and are half frozen and quite starved.' 'We don't entertain them who go to war.'

'Yes; but you will not refuse a little refreshment to poor fellows like us, this cold night; that would be as much against the principles of your society as war.'

'Thee's from Trenton?'

'No, I thank you; Nathaniel Collins is too well known as a friend to the country, and an honest man, to aid a refugee—we know that.'

'Soap the old fox well,' whispered one of the band.

'Come, friend, make haste and let us in, we are almost perished, and have far to go before sunrise, or we may change places with our prisoner here before sunset.'

'But what does the party here, this side of the river, right under the Hessians' nose, if—'

'Oh, we are minute-men, sent from within by Captain Smallcross, to seize this deserter—don't you mean to let us in?'

"Nathaniel closed the window and said, 'I don't know what to make of these men. Amy, call the boys; tell them to make haste and bring their guns, but keep them out of sight, where they will be handy.'

"As the command was obeyed, and the three young men, laborers on the farm, appeared and placed their guns behind the inner, their master unbolted the outer door and admitted five of the armed men—the prisoner and one of his captors remaining without. Nathaniel thought this unnecessary of so cold a night, and a little suspicious—'Will not thy companions enter also?'

"'No, thank you; he guards the prisoner.'

'But why may not the prisoner, too?' 'Pshaw! he's nothing but a deserter. The cold will be good for him.'

"'I must say,' quote Nathan, 'exercised,' as he afterwards owned, past endurance, 'thy conduct neither becomes thy nature as a man, or thy calling, which should teach thee more feeling—I'll take the poor fellow something to eat myself.'

"The old man had reached the door on his merciful errand, meaning it is true, to satisfy his curiosity at the same time, when he who had acted as leader of the party sprang from his chair, and, placing his hand on his host's breast, pushed him rudely back. 'Stand back—back, I say, and mind your own business, if you are a Quaker.'

"There was a momentary struggle in Nathan's mind, whether to knock the fellow down, as from appearances he easily might, or to yield, in obedience to his principles. 'It was strongly on his mind,' he confessed, to pursue the former course, but prudence conquered, and he quietly withdrew to the upper end of the apartment, where his men lounged on a bench, apparently half asleep, and indistinctly visible in the light of the fire and one small candle, which burned near the strangers. In the interim, the old cook had been summoned, and had arranged some cold provisions on the table. 'Old Annie,' the cook, was the child of Indian and mulatto parents, but possessed none of the features of her darker relation, except a capacious mouth and lips to match. She refused to associate with either negroes or Indians, considering herself as belonging to neither, and indulging a sovereign contempt for both. Her favorite term of reproach was 'Injin' and 'nigger,' and when they failed separately to express her feelings, she put the two together, a compliment always paid the Hessians, when she had occasion to mention them. A party of these marauders had, on a visit to her master's house, stolen her fall's store of sausages; thenceforth she vowed eternal hatred to the race—a vow she never forgot to the day of her death.

"The strangers ate their repast, showing anything but confidence in their entertainer, and ate, each man with his gun resting on his shoulder. During the whole meal, he who called himself their captain was uneasy and restless. For some time, he appeared to be engaged in a very close scrutiny of the household, who occupied the other end of the kitchen—a scrutiny which, owing to the darkness, could not yield him much satisfaction. He then whispered anxiously and angrily with his men, who answered in a dogged, obstinate fashion, that evidently displeased him; till, finally, rising from his seat, he bade them follow, and scarcely taking time to thank Nathan for his food and fire, passed out of the door and made from the house.

"'Well, now, that beats me!' said Elnathan, as he and his comrades looked at each other in astonishment at the abrupt departure and singular conduct of their guests.

"'That are a queer lark, any how!' responded John; 'it beats all natur'.'

''The Injins,' said Ann. 'If that is not Fagan or some of his gang, never trust me!—why did you not give them a shot, the 'tarnal thieves?'

"But our household troop were too glad to get rid of their visitors to interrupt their retreat. The house was secured again, the men had thrown themselves down, and some of them were already asleep, when another knock at the same door brought them as one man to their feet. On opening the door, a laborer attached to a neighboring farm presented himself, breathless from haste, and almost dead with fear. When he so far recovered his speech as to be able to tell his story, he proved to be the man whom the pretended militia-men had brought with them as a prisoner, and his captors were found to be no less than Fagan and a portion of his band. They had that night robbed five different houses before they attempted our Friend's. Aware that his sons were from home, they expected to find the old man unsupported, but having gained admission into the house, they were surprised at the appearance of three additional men. Fagan, however, was bent upon completing his enterprise in spite of all opposition; but his followers obstinately refused. At the foot of the avenue a bitter quarrel ensued, Fagan taxing his men with cowardice; but the fear of pursuit silenced them at length. The next question was, how to dispose of their prisoner, whom they had seized in one of their 'affairs,' and, for want of some means of securing him, brought with them. Fagan, as the shortest way, proposed, as he had before, to cut his throat; but the proposal was overruled as unnecessary. He was unbound, and, upon his solemn promise to return without giving the alarm, one of the band returned him his silver and a little money they had abstracted from his chest. In consideration whereof he made to the nearest house and gave the alarm, impelled by instinct more than anything else.

"Suddenly, the man's narrative was interrupted by an explosion of fire-arms, which broke upon the clear, frosty night, and startled even Nathan. Another and another followed before a word was uttered.

"'What can that be? It must be at Trenton.'

"'By jingo,' exclaimed Elnathan, forgetting, in his excitement, that his master was present, 'if I don't believe our men ain't giving the Hessians a salute this morning with ball cartridges—there it goes again!—I say, John, it's a piert scrimmage.'

"In his own anxiety, Nathan forgot to correct his servant's profanity. 'It must be—but how they got over through the ice without wings—'

"'No matter 'zackly how, marster, it's them. I'll warrant them's hard plums for a Christmas pudding. Ha! ha! they get it this morning,—them tarnation Hessian niggers!'

"'Ann, thee'll never forgive the Hessians thy sausages and pork.'

"'Forgive—not I. All my nice sausages and buckwheat cakes, ready buttered—and all for them 'are yaller varments.'

"The firing having continued some minutes, though less in volleys than at first, gradually ceased, and all was quiet, as if nothing had happened to disturb the deathlike stillness of the night. Yet, in that brief hall hour, the fate of a continent was decided—the almost desperate cause of the colonies had been retrieved. The victory of Trenton had been achieved.

"The attention of Nathan was diverted, by this first incident, from the other events of the night, but was soon recalled to the pursuit of the robbers, and the relief of their victims, who, from their late prisoner's account, had been left in an unpleasant condition. His men being dispatched to collect aid, Nathan now remained with old Anne; the sole efficient defender of the house. He was not doomed to wait their return undisturbed—the indistinct sound, as of many feet, was heard advancing along the road to Bordentown.

"'It's them Hessians,' said Anne. But Nathan thought not—it was not the tread of regular troops, but the confused rush of a multitude. He hastened to an upper window to reconnoitre. The day had begun to break, and he easily distinguished a large body of men in Hessian uniform, hurrying along the road in broken ranks. As they came nearer, he perceived many individuals half clad and imperfectly equipped. The whole consisted of about six hundred men. Before their rear was lost behind a turn in the road another body appeared in rapid pursuit. They marched in closer order and more regular array. In the stillness of the morning the voice of an officer could be distinctly heard urging on the men. They bore the well-known standard of the colonies. It all flashed on Nathan's mind—Washington had crossed the river, and was in pursuit of the routed foe. The excited old man forgot his years, as he almost sprang down stairs to the open air, proclaiming the tidings as he went. Even the correct Hannah, who had preserved her faith unbroken, in spite of her husband's and sons' contumacy, and the, if possible, still more particular Rachel, were startled from their usual composure, and gave vent to their joy.

"'Well, now, does thee say so?' said the latter, eagerly following the others to the door. 'I hope it is not unfriendly to rejoice for such a cause.'

"'I hope not, cousin Rachel,' said Amy; 'nor to be proud that our boys had a share in the glorious deed.'

"Amy was left to herself, and broke loose upon this occasion from the bonds of Quaker propriety; but no one observed the transgression—except old Anne.

"'That's right, Amy Collins; I like to hear you say so. How them Hessians can run—the 'tarnal niggers; they steal sausages better than they stand bullets. I told 'em it would be so, when they was here beguzzlen my buckwheat cakes, in plain English; only the outlandish Injins couldn't understand their mother tongue. They're got enough swallowen without chawen, this morning. I wish them nothen but Jineral Maxwell at their tails, tickling 'em with continental bagonets.'

"'That friend speaks my mind,' said Elnathan, with a half-sanctimonious, half-waggish look, and slight nasal twang.

"'Mine too,' as devoutly responded a companion, whom he had just brought to assist in the pursuit of the robbers.

"The whole family had assembled at the door to watch the motions of the troops. The front ranks had already passed down the road, when a horseman, at full speed, galloped along the line of march to the extreme right, and commanded a halt. After a few minutes delay, two or three officers, followed by a party carrying a wounded man, emerged from the ranks and approached the house. This was too much for the composure of our late overjoyed family; all hastened to meet their wounded or dead relation, but were disappointed agreeably—the brothers were indeed of the party, but unhurt.

"'Charles—boys—what means—'

'Nothing, father, except that we paid the Hessians a friendly visit this morning. You saw them?'

'A part—where are the rest?'

'Oh, we could not consent to turn them out of their comfortable quarters this cold night, so we insisted on their remaining, having first gone through the trifling ceremony of grounding their arms.'

"The greeting between the young soldiers and their more peaceful relations could not have been more cordial if their hands had been unstained with blood. Nathaniel proffered refreshments to the whole detachment; old Anne trembled for her diminished stock of sausages, and remarked to Elnathan, that it would take a ''tarnal griddle' to bake cakes for 'all that posse cotatus.' But the offer was declined by the officer in command, who only desired our friends to take charge of the wounded Hessian, whom his own men had deserted in the road.



"In the meanwhile, about forty men had assembled at Nathan's summons to pursue the robbers, some of them having first visited those who had suffered from the previous night's depredations. In one instance, they found a farmer tied in his own stable, with his horse gear, and his wife, with the bed-cord, to some of the furniture in her own apartment. In another place, the whole household was quietly disposed down a shallow well, up to their knees in water, and half frozen. In a third, a solitary man, who was the only inmate at the time, having fled, in his fright, to the house-top, was left there by the unfeeling thieves, who secured the trap-door within. But the last party who arrived had a bloody tale to tell: they had been to the house of Joseph Farr, the sexton to a neighboring Baptist church; a reputation for the possession of concealed gold proved fatal to him. On entering his house, the door of which stood open, the party sent to his relief stumbled over his body. After having most cruelly beaten him, in the hope of extorting the gold he was said to possess, the murderers, upon his positive denial, pierced him in twenty places with their bayonets. The old bedridden wife was still alive in her bed, though the blood had soaked through the miserable pallet and run in a stream into the fire-place. Their daughter, a woman of fifty years, fled from the house as the murderers entered, and was pursued by one of them, nearly overtaken, and even wounded in the arm by his bayonet; but his foot slipped in making the thrust, and she escaped slightly hurt.

"This bloody business aroused the whole country; a persevering and active pursuit was commenced. The murderers had many miles to traverse before they could reach a safe retreat, and were obliged to lighten themselves of their heavier plunder in the chase. Four were shot down in the pursuit; the knapsack of a fifth was found partly concealed in a thicket, and pierced with a ball, which had also penetrated a large mass of continental money in sheets, and, by the blood on the inner covering, had done good service on the wearer. It was believed that he contrived to conceal himself in a thicket, and died there; as he was never heard of after. Fagan alone escaped unhurt to the pines, and for days defied all the exertions of the whig farmers. By this time, the pursuing party had increased to nearly two hundred men. The part of the wood in which he was known to be concealed, was surrounded and fired, till the wretch was literally burnt from his den, and, in an attempt to escape from one flaming thicket to another, taken alive, although not unwounded. One of the gang, who had not participated in the deeds I have mentioned, was secured at the same time.

"There appeared to be no difference of opinion about the mode of disposing of the prisoners—indeed, an opinion was scarcely asked or given. It seemed taken for granted—a thing of course; and the culprits were led in silence to the selected place of execution. There was neither judge nor jury—no delay—no prayer for mercy; a large oak then stood at the forks of two roads, one of which leads to Freehold; from the body of the tree a horizontal branch extended over the latter road, to which two ropes were attached. One of them having been fixed to the minor villain's neck, his sufferings were soon over; but a horrible and lingering death was reserved for Fagan. The iron hoops were taken off a meat cask, and by a blacksmith in the company fitted round his ankles, knees, and arms, pinioning the latter to his body, so that, excepting his head, which was 'left free to enjoy the prospect,' he could not move a muscle. In this condition he hung for days beside his stiffened companion; dying by inches of famine and cold, which had moderated so as, without ending, to aggravate his misery. Before he died, he had gnawed his shoulder from very hunger. On the fifth night, as it approached twelve o'clock, having been motionless for hours, his guards believed him to be dead, and, tired of their horrid duty, proposed to return home. In order, however, to be sure, they sent one of the party up the ladder to feel if his heart still beat. He had ascended into the tree, when a shriek, unlike anything human, broke upon the stillness of the night, and echoed from the neighboring wood with redoubled power. The poor fellow dropped from the tree like a dead man, and his companions fled in terror from the spot. When day encouraged them to return, their victim was swinging stiffly in the north wind—now lifeless as the companion of his crime and its punishment. It is believed, to this day, that no mortal power, operating upon the lungs of the dead murderer, produced that awful, unearthly, and startling scream; but that it was the voice of the Evil One, warning the intrusive guard not to disturb the fiend in the possession of his lawful victim; a belief materially strengthened by a fact that could not be disputed—the limb upon which the robbers hung, after suffering double pollution from them and their master's touch, never budded again; it died from that hour; the poison gradually communicated to the remaining branches, till, from a flourishing tree, it became a sapless and blasted trunk, and so stood for years, at once an emblem and a monument of the murderers' fate.

"Fagan was never buried; his body hung upon its gibbet till the winds picked the flesh from off his bones, and they fell asunder by their own weight. A friend of mine has seen his horrid countenance, as it hung festering and blackening in the wind, and remembers, by way of amusement, between schools, pelting the body with stones. The old trunk has disappeared, but the spot is still haunted in the belief of the people of the neighborhood, and he is a bold man who dare risk a nocturnal encounter with the bloody Fagan, instead of avoiding the direct road, at the expense of half a mile's additional walk. No persuasion or force will induce a horse raised in the neighborhood to pass the fated spot at night, although he will express no uneasiness by daylight. The inference is, that the animals, as we know animals do, and Balaam's certainly did, see more than their masters. A skeptical gentleman, near, thinks this only the force of habit, and that the innocent creatures have been so taught by the cowards who drive them, and would saddle the horses with their own folly.

"I am at the close of my story, and not a lover or a tender scene in the whole tedious relation—alas! what a defect, but it is too late to mind it now; it only remains to take leave of our friends. Nathan and Hannah have mingled with dust, and their spirits with that society whose only business is love, and where sighing and contention can never intrude. Nathan was permitted, on his expressing his sorrow that he had 'disobliged Friends,' to rejoin his society, and he died an elder. Rachel departed at a great age, as she had lived, a spotless maiden. The blooming, the warm-hearted, mischievous Amy lives, a still comely old lady, the mother of ten sons, and the grandparent of three times as many more. She adheres strictly to all the rules of her society, and bears her testimony in the capacity of a public Friend. Still, she is evidently not a little proud of her father's and brothers' share in the perils and honors of the revolutionary contest, though she affects to condemn their contumacy and unfriendly conformity to the world's ways, and their violation of 'Friends' testimony concerning war.' Old Annie died four years since, at an almost incredible age, though she was not able to name the exact number of the days of her pilgrimage. From the deep furrows on her cheeks, and the strong lines of her naturally striking countenance, which, as she advanced in years, assumed more and more the character of her Indian parentage, and the leather-like appearance of her skin, she might have passed for an antediluvian. While other less important matters lost their impression on her memory, the Hessian inroads upon her sausages and buckwheat cakes were neither forgotten nor entirely forgiven to the last. She sent for a friend when on her death-bed, to make arrangement of her little affairs. He found her strength of body exhausted, but her powers of mind unimpaired. After disposing her stock of personalities among some of her friends, she turned to him. 'That's all, Mr. Charles, except the old sash you used to play with, which I sp'iled from the Hessian officer, the Injin—keep that to mind old Anne by,'

"'Thank you, Anne—I'll keep it carefully. But you must not bear malice now, Anne; you must forgive even the Hessians,' said Charles.

"'What, them Hessians, the bloody thieves?' and the old woman's eyes lighted up, and she almost arose in her bed with astonishment, as she asked the question.

'Yes; even them: you are about to need forgiveness as much as they—they were your enemies and persecutors, whom you are especially enjoined to pardon, as you would expect to be pardoned.'

'So it is, Mr. Charles; you say the truth,—poor ignorant, sinful mortal that I am! Well, then, I do—I hope I do—forgive 'em; I'll try—the bloody creeters.'

"There; will that do for a story, Thomas Jefferson?" asked the old grandfather, when he had concluded. The old man had a straight-forward, natural way of telling a story that showed he had practised it frequently. The boy seemed much gratified by the horrible narration. Mrs. Harmar said she was interested, but didn't like it much; her husband remarked, however, that it would make a thrilling sketch.

"I suppose that Nathaniel Collins was very much the same sort of a Quaker as General Green," said Morton. "They were peaceable men, as long as peace and quiet were not inconsistent with self-defence. To be peaceable when a foe is wasting your fields and slaughtering your brethren, is cowardly and against nature."

"That's truth," replied Higgins. "We must look upon a merciless invader in the same light as upon a cruel beast, whom it is saving life to slay."

"Fagan was well punished for his outrages," remarked Wilson.

"It was the only way for the inhabitants to ensure their safety," said Smith.

THE TORY'S CONVERSION.

"By the bye," said Mr. Morton, "some events have just recurred to my mind, which interested me very much when I first heard of them, and which I think may strike you as being wonderful. I knew of many strange and unaccountable things that happened during the Revolution, but the conversion of Gil Lester from toryism capped the climax."

"Enlighten us upon the subject, by all means," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"Yes, that was a strange affair, Morton; tell 'em about it," added Higgins.

"There's a little love stuff mixed up with the story," said Morton, "but you will have to excuse that. I obtained the incidents from Lester himself, and I know he was always true to his word, whether that was right or wrong. Gilbert Lester, Vincent Murray, and their ladye-loves, lived up here in Pennsylvania, in the neighborhood of the Lehigh. One night a harvest ball was given at the house of farmer Williams. Vincent Murray and Mary Williams, the farmer's daughter, joined in the festivities, and, becoming tired of dancing in a hot room, they went out to walk along the banks of the Lehigh, and, of course, to talk over love matters.

"They had seated themselves on a fallen tree, and continued for a few moments to gaze in the mirrored Lehigh, as if their very thoughts might be reflected on its glassy surface. Visions of war and bloodshed were passing before the fancy of the excited girl, and she breathed an inward prayer to heaven to protect her lover; when, casting her eyes upward, she suddenly exclaimed with startling energy:

"'Vincent, look at the sky!' Murray raised his head, and sprang instantly on his feet. 'Tell me,' continued Mary, 'am I dreaming, or am I mad! or do I actually see armies marching through the clouds?'

"Murray gazed steadfastly for a moment, and then exclaimed, 'It is the British, Mary—I see the red coats as plainly as I see you.'

"The young girl seemed transfixed to the spot, without the power of moving. 'Look there,' said she, pointing her finger upward—'there are horses, with officers on them, and a whole regiment of dragoons! Oh, are you not frightened?'

"'No,' replied her companion—but before he had time to proceed, she again exclaimed:

'There, there, Vincent! See the colors flying, and the drums, and trumpets, and cannon, I can almost hear them! What can it mean?'

'Don't be so terrified, Mary. It is my belief, that what we see is an intimation from God of the approaching war. The 'Lord of Hosts' has set his sign in the heavens. But come, let us run to the house. This is no time to dance—and they will not believe us, unless their own eyes behold the vision!'

"Before he had finished speaking, they were hastily retracing their steps to the scene of merriment; and in another moment the sound of the violin was hushed, and the feet of the dancers were still. With one accord, they all stood in the open air, and gazed with straining glances at the pageant in the heavens; and marked it with awe and wonder. A broad streak of light spread itself gradually over the sky, till the whole wide expanse was in one brilliant blaze of splendor. The clouds, decked in the richest and most gorgeous colors, presented a spectacle of grandeur and glory, as they continued to shape themselves into various forms of men, and horses, and armor, till a warlike and supernatural host was distinctly presented to the view. The dragoons, on their prancing horses; the riflemen and artillery, with their military ensigns and accoutrements; the infantry, and even the baggage-wagons in the rear, were all there to complete the imposing array. It is no fiction; many were eye-witnesses of that remarkable vision, which passed on from the east, and disappeared in the west—and, from that evening, the sound of the violin was heard no more in those places, until the end of the Revolution.

"Mary Tracy hung upon the arm of her lover, and listened anxiously to his words, as he spoke to her in a low but decided tone." "That's very strange; but you have not told us how the young tory was converted," interrupted Mrs. Harmar.

"I am coming to that," replied Morton. "Vincent Murray and Mary Williams conversed together for some time. He told her he was going to leave his friends and join the American army. He said he thought the signs in the clouds were warning to all the friends of liberty to rush to the aid of our little struggling band; and that he intended to go to New York, and then seek out the best plan for enlistment. Before he bade his sweetheart farewell, he also told her he was resolved to do his best to convert Gilbert Lester from his tory principles. Now this was no easy task, as the two young men had often argued the question of rights, and Lester had shown that he was as firmly fixed to his creed as Murray was to his. Mary told him that she thought that the frowns or the smiles of Jane Hatfield alone could change his way of thinking. But, nevertheless, Murray resolved to try what he could do.

"The little group of dancers were all scattered in different directions. Murray sought among the number for Gilbert Lester, and found him, at length, leaning in a thoughtful attitude against the trunk of a huge sycamore tree, whose broad shadow fell upon the waters of the Lehigh. So profound was his reverie, that Murray touched his arm before he stirred from his position, or was aware of approaching footsteps.

"'Gilbert, shall I divine your thoughts?'

"'You, perhaps, think you could do so, but I doubt whether you would guess right.' "'Why, there can be but one subject, I should suppose, which could occupy the mind of any one who has seen what we have seen this evening.'

"'True; but there may be different interpretations put upon what is equally a mystery to us all.'

"'Well, I will not dispute that point with you,—but there is a right and a wrong, notwithstanding. Now, tell me, what is your opinion?'

"'It will hardly coincide with yours, Vincent; for I fear we shall never agree in our ideas of the propriety and expediency of taking up arms against our sovereign. As to this pantomime of the clouds, I must confess it is beyond my comprehension; so, if your understanding has been enlightened by the exhibition, I beg you will have charity to extend the benefit.'

"'You are always for ridiculing my impressions, Gilbert; but you cannot change my belief that our cause is a rightful one, and that it will, with the help of the Almighty, ultimately prevail.'

"'What, against such a host as we have just seen imaged out in the sky?'

"'The Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save,' replied Murray.

"'But,' continued his friend, 'if a real army, coming over the sea to do battle for the king, has been represented by that ghostly multitude which passed before our view, you will find the number too strong for this fanciful faith of yours, in the help of an invisible arm.'

"'It is a faith, however, which I am not yet disposed to yield,—the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.' "'I will acknowledge,' said Lester, interrupting him, 'that you have the advantage of me in quoting Scripture—but depend upon it, the practical advantages of the British over the rebel army will soon overturn your theory.'

"'No such thing, Gilbert. I tell you that the zeal, fortitude, undaunted courage, and invincible resolution, which encompass our little band of patriots, will prove a shield of strength that will make every single man of them equal to at least a dozen British soldiers. And having once risen up in defence of their rights, they will persevere to the last extremity before they will submit to the disgraceful terms of a despotic government. It grieves me that you should be among the tories. Come, I entreat you, and share in the glory of the triumph which I am persuaded will eventually be ours.'

"'Then you really do believe, Murray, that God will work a modern miracle in favor of America! My dear friend, I wish you would abandon this vain chimera of your imagination, and let common sense and reason convince you of the folly of this mad rebellion.'

"'And what then? Should I sit down in cowardly inaction, while others are sacrificing their lives in the struggle? No—that shall never be said of Vincent Murray! My resolution is taken; I will rise or fall with my country!'

"'And perhaps the next time we meet,' said Lester, 'it may be on the field of battle.'

"'God forbid! But should it even be the case, Gilbert, I should know no friend among my country's enemies. Farewell—you will think better of this subject; and remember, that no one but a Republican will ever win Jane Hatfield,' said Murray.

"The young men wrung each other's hands, and each went his way."

"Murray thought he would put in the last remark by way of strengthening the effect of the vision in the clouds, I suppose," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"Yes; the promise of the hand of a lovely girl has a great influence on the opinions of a young man," replied Morton. "But in this case, if you will wait till my story is through, you will see that Jane Hatfield had but little to do with Lester's conversion. The next morning after the occurrence of the wonderful phantom in the clouds, Murray left his home, and soon after enlisted in the army under General Montgomery. He was in the unlucky expedition against Quebec.

"After the death of Montgomery, and the uniting of the different detachments under Arnold, as their head, Murray, to his marvellous astonishment, encountered his friend Gilbert Lester among the Pennsylvania riflemen, under Captain Morgan. By some strange accident, and each being ignorant of the proximity of the other, they had not met before the attack on Quebec. Great, therefore, was Murray's surprise and pleasure; for, since the evening of their last conversation on the banks of the Lehigh, he had no opportunity of learning whether there had been any change in the political sentiments of his friend. With the utmost fervor of delight he grasped his hand as he exclaimed: "'I rejoice to see you,—but, my dear friend, what is the meaning of this meeting? And how, in the name of wonder, came you here?'

"'Why, it is truly a wonder to myself, Murray,' replied Lester, 'that I ever got here; or that any of us, who passed through that frightful wilderness, are now alive to tell the story.'

"'The wilderness! I should like to know how you contrived to get into the wilderness from the place where I last saw you?' said Murray.

"'I remember,' said Gilbert, laughing; 'you left me looking at the clouds on the banks of the Lehigh; and, perhaps, you imagine that I was taken up into them, and dropped down in that horrible place as a punishment for my toryism!'

"'And if that was not the case, pray throw a little light on the mystery.'

"'Have patience, then, and let me tell my story my own way. The getting into the labyrinth was a trifle in comparison to the getting out. Believe me, the tales of romance are nothing to the tremendous horrors of that march. Why do you look incredulous?'

"'You know your love of the marvellous, Gilbert—but go on; only don't out-Herod Herod in your description.'

"'There is no danger of that—no description can come up to the truth. I looked upon that whole army in the desert as destined to make their next general parade in the heavens—and fancied you would see our poor, unhappy apparitions gliding through the sky; and, perhaps, exclaim, 'Poor Gilbert; he died in the good cause at last. It seems, however, that the necessity is spared of my making so pathetic an apostrophe. You had the good fortune to escape.'

'It was little less than a miracle that we did so, I assure you,' replied Gilbert.

'Your preservation, then, should be a more convincing proof to your mind, that the Lord is on our side, and will not forsake us in this unequal strife.'

'Ah,' replied Lester, 'you may beat me in faith, Vincent, but I will contend that I have beaten you in works. Had you waded, as we did, through those hideous bogs, which a poor Irishman, whose bones we left on the way, declared, 'bate all the bogs of Ireland!' you would have said the Israelites in the wilderness had a happy time of it, compared to us. Why, we were drowned, and starved, and frozen, till we had nearly given up all hope of the honor of being shot.'

'But you forget that I am still in ignorance of the preceding causes, which produced the revolution in your sentiments, and consequently influenced your actions after I left the farm,' said Murray, interrupting him.

"'You are right,' replied Gilbert; 'I am before my story. My head was so completely filled with the images on the way, that I was obliged to dispose of them first, ere I could clear a passage in my memory to relate what came before. It would, however, require too much time, at this moment, to enter into all the detail of argument and persuasion that gradually undermined my first principles. My imagination was a little excited by the whole scene at our last harvest festival. The sudden interruption in the dancing by the singular phenomena in the heavens, and the termination, from that evening, of all our accustomed mirth and gaiety, made a strong impression, which led me to inquire and reflect on passing events, connected with the disturbances in the country, much more closely and anxiously than I had done before. The result was a determination, in my own mind, to follow you. Knowing your admiration of General Washington, I instantly jumped at the conclusion that you had proceeded to Cambridge, in order to be guided in your future movements by the commander-in-chief; and so, without the least hesitation, I straightway decided on pursuing the same course. You are well aware, Vincent, that I am a creature of impulse. My arrival at head-quarters happened to be at the moment when Colonel Arnold was fitting out his troops for this unhappy expedition; and meeting accidentally with an acquaintance among the Pennsylvania riflemen, I enlisted in the same regiment, under Captain Morgan. A spice of romance, which I believe nature infused into my disposition, and which was increased among the mountain passes and wild fastnesses of our native scenery, induced me to look forward with a kind of adventurous pleasure, to the projected passage through the unexplored wilderness. The probable hazard and difficulty of the exploit presented only a spur to my newly awakened ardor; and thus, with my usual impetuosity of feeling, I pushed on among the most enthusiastic followers of Colonel Arnold. The concluding part of the history is written in the blood of our brave and gallant general; and now, in the closing scene of the drama, I find myself, by a singular freak of fortune, thrown again in your company, in a place where I had little dreamed of such a meeting.'

"In the meanwhile, an interesting event happened on the banks of the Lehigh. The usual business in that part of the country was suspended. The men congregated to talk over the causes and events of the war, and the signs of the times. The appearance of the army in the heavens was still fresh in the minds of all; and it was but a few weeks after the departure of Murray and Lester that another spectacle was seen, even more astonishing than the first.

"It was on a September evening that the Aurora Borealis was discovered in the sky. It grew brighter and brighter, and soon drew together a large number of the inhabitants of the neighborhood. The distance was short to the highest ground on the ridge of the Lehigh Mountains, and the whole party ascended to the summit, near the old road between Easton and Philadelphia. There they paused, to view the surrounding scenery in the broad, clear light. The Kittating Mountain, enveloped in its blue shade of mist, lay far away to the north and west; while, on the Jersey side, to the east, the high Musconetcong rose darkly in the distance. Suddenly, a cloud appeared on the blue sky above, and immediately, quick, successive sounds, as of the firing of cannon, broke on the ear. The cloud dispersed with the noise, and flying troops were seen rushing on from the west. Men and horses were mingled in one indiscriminate mass of confusion. The soldiers wore the uniform of the British; but there was no order, as in the former vision. Ranks were cut up and destroyed—plumes were bent down and broken—horses fled without riders—and the fallen were trampled on by their companions. Terror seemed to move in their midst, as they hurried onward. The pillar of a cloud rose again behind them. It was like a thick smoke from the fire of the enemy. It curled and wreathed itself away in the heavens, and disappeared, as with another sound of guns. Then came the Continental Army. Soldiers marching in triumph—officers mounted, and flags of victory streaming on the sky. On and on, they followed in the pursuit, till the singular phantasm melted away in the east.

"The sight was hailed with joy, as an omen of success to the American cause. Numerous were the spectators to that second vision—and some are yet alive in the part of the country where it was seen.

"An account of this phenomenon was sent to Murray and Lester, and the latter became confirmed, heart and soul, in the cause to which he had attached himself. Now, I know, you may look upon these things with a smile of credulity, and say it was all the result of imagination; but a mere fancy cannot mislead hundreds of people, and make them believe that their eyes are traitors. I have told you nothing but what is well attested. I don't pretend to know anything of the causes of such events, but I do know that these visions changed many a heart from toryism to patriotism." "I am very much obliged to you for your interesting story, Mr. Morton," said Mr. Jackson Harmar. "I like your plain, straight-forward style, and your matter excites my wonder. It is a fact, that General Washington was known to observe and mention the remarkable apparitions in the heavens, at many different periods of the Revolution. They were not without their influence on his mind. I firmly believe that such things occurred; and can look for no cause but that of God's providence, to explain them."

Of course Mrs. Harmar believed the story of the apparitions to be perfectly true, and did not look for any other cause except the direct order of the Almighty; but Wilson said he was always suspicious of such stories. He even ventured to offer an explanation of the phenomenon, which amounted to this:—A thunder-storm came up while the people were gathered together, very much excited upon the subject of the war, and feeling very anxious for the success of the cause of the colonies; one man thought he saw an army in the clouds driven before the winds, and heard the roar of the artillery; this he communicated in an excited manner to the others, and they, disposed to believe, also thought the clouds looked "very like a whale." But Morton, old Harmar, Mr. Jackson Harmar, Smith, and Higgins, brought their argumentative batteries to bear upon the explanation and incredulity of Wilson, and silenced, if they did not convince him. He admitted that a man of General Washington's strength of mind could not easily be deceived, and said, that if it was a fact that he had seen and mentioned the phenomenon, he could think it true; but no one was prepared to prove what had been asserted. Mr. Morton was again thanked for the manner in which he had told the story, and Mr. Jackson Harmar said that some of the writers of the day might learn from him.

"Of course, Murray and Lester lived through the war, went home to the banks of the Lehigh, and married the girls they loved," remarked Wilson.

"They did; and two very happy couples they made. Jane Hatfield had always been a republican in sentiment, and she loved Lester more than ever when she heard he had dropped toryism as something that would have burnt his fingers if he had held on to it," replied Morton.

THE TIMELY RESCUE.

"When Mr. Morton commenced his story," said old Harmar, "he said there was considerable love-stuff mixed up with it, as if that was an objection to his telling it. Now I can tell you a story of which love and fighting are the elements. The events occurred up here in New Jersey, and are true to the time and the people that acted in it."

"No matter if it was all made up of love, if it illustrated the character of the time, I should like to hear it," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"And so should I," added his wife.

"Is it that story about Captain Edwards and Miss Williams, that Bill Moore used to tell?" inquired Higgins.

"That's the affair; and, supposing you folks will wish to hear about it, I shall proceed. Shortly after the surrender of Burgoyne, two horsemen were riding along the road which leads to the town of Ridgefield. One was Captain Edwards, and the other Lieutenant Brown. Their conversation partook of the spirit of the period. They were discussing the relative merits of General Gates and General Washington. Brown thought that Washington was deficient in energy, while Edwards thought him a model general, and Gates deficient in both energy and skill. They could not agree, and so they dropped the subject.

"As the colloquy ended, the horsemen spurred onward, and soon arrived in view of the residence of Mrs. Williams, which was situated on a gentle acclivity, accessible by a long avenue, skirted on either side with tall poplars, and entered at the extremity by a slight wooden gate. On entering this avenue, old Pompey came running towards them with a brow darkened a number of shades by his agitation, and grasping the bridle of Captain Edward's horse, exclaimed:

"'Oh! for Heaven's sake, good master Edwards, don't go to the house!'

"'What the devil's the matter?' ejaculated the captain, as he endeavored to disengage the hold of the negro.

"'Mistress has gone clean 'stracted,' began the African, 'because young Miss Caroline—'

"'What of her?—speak out, in the fiend's name!' exclaimed Captain Edwards, evincing much greater emotion than he had hitherto betrayed.

"'You stop me, sir; I must tell my story in my own way,' replied Pompey.

"'Proceed with it, then, with a murrain to you,' said Lieutenant Brown, impatiently, 'or, by heaven, I'll beat it out of you with the flat of my sword.' "'Well, then,' cried the negro, angrily, 'the tory Captain Lewis came to our house last night with some sodgers, and carried off Miss Caroline.'

"'The unhung villain!' muttered Captain Edwards, from between his clenched teeth; and then, compelling himself to speak more calmly, he said, 'Brown, my dear fellow, return directly to the camp, and meet me at Stophel's tavern, with Sergeant Watkins and a dozen trusty soldiers. The scoundrel cannot escape me—I know every tory haunt between here and the Hudson; I must go to the house, and console the afflicted Mrs. Williams.'

"The subaltern struck his spurs into the flank of his steed, and hastened to execute the orders of his superior. The captain rode up the lane, and having reached the house, threw his bridle to a servant, and entered without ceremony. As he had anticipated, he found Mrs. Williams in an indescribable state of grief; her health was delicate, and this unexpected calamity had prostrated her. After offering a few encouraging words, which produced but a very slight effect, he remounted his horse and rode to the place of rendezvous. Here he met Lieutenant Brown, a sergeant, corporal, and ten privates, all finely armed and equipped, and prepared to brave any danger and incur any hazard, in the service of a commander in whom they had the most unbounded confidence. He instantly placed himself at their head, and proceeded on his expedition.

"It was now dark. Their road lay along the margin of a small stream, bounded on the one side by half cultivated fields, and on the other by a thick gloomy forest, in which the death-like stillness of its dark bosom was only broken by the occasional howl of wild beasts.

"After pursuing their course for some distance along the bank of this rivulet, now traversing the ground on its very margin, and then again carried by the windings of the path miles from the stream, they came to a sharp angle in the road, on turning which, the captain, being a short distance in advance of his troops, discovered a figure slightly defined, but yet bearing some resemblance to the human species, stealing along the side of the path, apparently wishing to avoid observation.

"Striking his spurs into his horse, and drawing his sword at the same time, the captain had the person completely in his power before the other had time to offer either flight or resistance.

"'For whom are you?' was demanded by Captain Edwards, in no gentle accents.

"'I'm nae just free to say,' replied the stranger, thus rudely interrogated, with the true Scotch evasion.

"'Answer me at once,' returned the captain; 'which party do you favor?'

"'Ye might have the civility to give me a gentle hint which side ye belang to,' said Sawney.

"'No circumlocution,' rejoined the soldier, sternly. 'Inform me immediately: Are you a mercenary of the tyrant of England, or a friend to liberty? your life depends on your answer.'

"'Aweel, then,' said the Scotchman firmly, 'sin ye will have it, by my saul, I won't go to heaven with a lie in my mouth—I'm whig to the back-bone, ye carline; now do your warst, and be hanged till ye!'"

"He might still have been a foe," remarked Wilson. "He might have seen, from Edwards' language, that to be a whig was to ensure his safety."

"I cannot say whether the Scotchman was sincere or not," replied old Harmar. "The American captain was well pleased to discover a friend, when he had every reason to expect an enemy; and, after furnishing him with a pistol, and advising him to avoid the scouting parties of the enemy, by keeping in the wood, he again proceeded on his expedition. They soon reached a fork in the road: one branch led into the recesses of the wood, and the other lay still farther along the banks of the stream. On arriving at this spot, the captain, calling Lieutenant Brown a little distance from the troop, said, 'A few miles' ride will carry us to an encampment of a party of these tories. I wish to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, and shall take the road which leads into the wood, for that purpose, while you with the soldiers will ride on the other road, till you will arrive within sight of the enemy, and then return to this point, which shall be our place of rendezvous. In the meantime, I wish you to avoid coming to any engagement with the tories; but, in case you hear me fire two pistol shots, you may believe me to be in danger, and hasten to my relief.'

"To command was to be obeyed with Captain Edwards, and soon no sound was heard save the slow and regular tread of the horses of the soldiers under command of Lieutenant Brown "Captain Lewis, the partisan tory who had carried off Miss Williams, was an officer of some fame. Of English extraction, and bred in the principles of entire acquiescence in the orders of the British ministry, he beheld the struggles of the colonists with contempt. He saw the inhabitants rising about him in various parts of the country, with feelings of bitter hatred, and he determined to crush these evidences of rebellion in the outset. He accepted a captain's commission in the English army, and fought for a time under the banners of General Clinton, with success worthy of a better cause. But taking offence at some imperious order of his commander, he threw up his commission in disgust, and retired to his native village near the river Hudson. Here, collecting about him a few choice spirits like himself, he kept the inhabitants in a continual state of alarm by his plundering and rapacious conduct. Acting, as he pretended, under the orders of the king, the tories durst not oppose him, and the whigs were too few in numbers to resist his foraging excursions with any prospect of success.

"In his youth he had been a school companion of Captain Edwards, but their principles were widely dissimilar, and little intercourse had taken place between them. In after life they embraced different sides, and the tory disliked the whig for his virtues, and envied his good name. In one of his marauding expeditions he became acquainted with Miss Williams, and discovering the interest the republican had in her affections, he determined to get her into his power, for the purpose of holding a check on the whig officer, whom he equally feared and hated. A libertine in principle, and a profligate in practice, he scrupled at no means to attain his object, and a violent attack on the peaceful dwelling of a defenceless woman was as consonant with his views as robbing a hen-roost.

"The dwelling of this renegade was situated on a small hill on the bank of the river Hudson. His peculiar occupation, and the state of affairs in the country, had rendered it necessary for him to fortify and strengthen his house, and, at the time referred to, it resembled, what in fact it was, the rendezvous of a band of lawless desperadoes.

"In the principal room of the building was the villain captain, with three of his officers, seated round a decayed table, playing cards; on one end of the table stood a dirty decanter, partly filled with apple brandy; three or four cracked, dingy tumblers were scattered over the table, and the rest of the furniture of the apartment was in keeping. In one corner of the room sat Miss Williams, apparently in the depth of wretchedness. She occasionally cast furtive glances at the captain, and then toward a small window, which was firmly barricaded; but seeing no prospect of escape, she relapsed again into hopeless sorrow. Groups of blackguard soldiers were seated on stools in different parts of the room, many of them following the example of their officers, and others amusing themselves with burnishing their muskets and equipments. After numerous potations from his bottle, the captain started up, reeling under the influence of the liquor, and addressing a ruffian-looking officer, one of his boon companions, said: "'Lieutenant Jocelyn, have the drum beat to arms, and take these lazy knaves and scour the woods for a few miles around, and cut down or make prisoner every rebel rascal you meet; leave soldiers enough, however, to guard the old castle; quick—blast me, no hesitation.'

"'Humph!' muttered the old soldier; 'ready enough to run his comrades into the noose, but devilish careful to keep his own delicate person out of danger.'

"'Ha! what say you, old grumbler? You shall stay here and guard the lady, if you are so much afraid of your beautiful self; and I will take command of the men.'

"The lieutenant liked this proposition still worse than the former, but seeing no alternative, obeyed in silence. In a short time, the captain, accompanied by about twenty men, including a sergeant and two corporals, left their camp and proceeded toward the wood. It was night-fall when they reached the forest, through which the road was very narrow and circuitous. They were travelling along the path in double files, when the sergeant in front ordered a halt.

"'Why do we stop here,' roared the captain, 'when it is as dark as Egypt?'

"'I hear a noise like the trampling of horses,' replied the sergeant.

"'Hist, then,' said Captain Lewis; 'draw up the men into a body, and await their arrival in silence.'

"'The horse's footsteps were now distinctly heard, but it was a solitary horseman whom these worthy soldiers were to encounter. When he arrived within speaking distance, the sergeant advanced a few paces in front of the soldiers, and exclaimed:

"'Stand! stand! or you are a dead man!'

"The horseman evinced no disposition to comply with this arbitrary requisition, but deliberately drew pistol from his holsters and endeavored to urge his horse through the ranks of his opponents. Captain Lewis now came to the front of his men, and ordered: "'Seize the bridle, and down with the rebel!'

"'Let no man lay a hand on me or my horse, as he values his life,' said the horseman in a determined tone, at the same time cocking his pistol.

"'The sergeant drew back a few yards, and discharged his carbine, but without effect; two soldiers grasped the horse by the head at the same instant. The horseman, seeing a struggle inevitable, literally blew out the brains of one of his assailants, and, plucking his other pistol from its holster with his left hand, he fired at and slightly wounded his second antagonist; he now threw aside his pistols, &c., and then drew his heavy broadsword, and essayed to cut his way through his opponents—but giant strength, combined with the most desperate courage, could not compete with such vast disparity of numbers; some of his enemies fastened themselves on his horse, while others thrust at him with their bayonets, and, after a protracted contest, during which the tories lost five men, the horseman was disarmed and brought to the ground.

"'Bind the rebel dog,' shouted the infuriated captain; 'he shall die the death of a felon, were he George Washington. By Heaven!' continued he, as he viewed the prostrate horseman, 'it is Captain Edwards! Are then my dearest wishes gratified? I will be doubly revenged! Bind him hand and foot, boys, and throw him across his own horse, if the beast can bear him; if not, drive a bullet through the horse's brains, and carry the soldier in your arms.'

"The whig officer was firmly bound and placed on his own charger, while a soldier marched on either side of him, and another led the horse. After prosecuting their route homeward near a mile, they were startled with 'No quarter to the cowardly tories! cut them down root and branch!' followed by the discharge of near a dozen pistols, which killed four men, and wounded two or three others; and in a moment they were nearly surrounded by the dragoons under command of Lieutenant Brown. For a short time the contest was maintained with vigor; the bonds of Captain Edwards were soon cut; he attacked the tory captain, sword in hand, and, after a short conflict, succeeded in wounding him in the sword-arm and hurling him to the ground, and placing his foot on his breast, he said:

"'Now, you dastardly ruffian, avow your villanies, and inform me where I shall find Miss Howard, or, by heaven, I will send you where the tenor of your life will be hard to account for.'

"The fierceness of the whig soldier's manner, and the consciousness of being wholly in his power, completely humbled the tory, and he begged his life, and promised to conduct the troops to his encampment, where they would find the lady in safety.

"The tories were now effectually routed; some were killed, some wounded, others captured, and some had escaped. A few miles' travel, and Captain Edwards and the men under his command arrived at the habitation of the tories. A coarse slovenly soldier was pacing the ground in front of the building, and, on the advance of the continental troops, presented his musket, and ordered them to halt. Captain Edwards briefly informed him of the reverse that had taken place in the fortunes of his commander, and concluded by telling him that 'Submission was safety—resistance death.'

"The door was now burst open, and in a moment Miss Williams was folded in the arms of her lover.

"Little more remains to be told. No entreaties of Captain Edwards, or persuasions of her aunt, could induce Miss Williams to give her hand to her admirer till the close of the war. On the establishment of peace, Colonel Edwards, (for he had received that rank,) was made happy in the possession of his long-tried affection. Lieutenant Brown served under his captain during the war, and, on the promotion of Captain Edwards, succeeded to his command. The tory Lewis, and the remainder of his guilty accomplices, were captured shortly after the occurrence of the events I have related, and executed for desertion."

"The tories generally received the worst of every encounter," remarked Higgins; "at least, so all our love-story tellers say." "What I have told you I know to be true—just as Bill Moore, who was one of Captain Edwards' men, used to tell it," replied old Harmar.

"I believe it to be a fact that the tories did get the worst of most of the encounters in which they had an equal number of our men to deal with. The reason was plain. They had not the same great motives to spur them to daring and noble effort; and the whigs fought against them with more ardor than they would against the British," said Wilson.

"Captain Edwards was a host. Just think of one man daring to resist the attack of twenty men, and killing five of them before he was taken. It seems like the deed of a fabulous hero," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"The case was a desperate one, and demanded desperate conduct. A surrender would not have saved his life, and might have secured Miss Williams in the hands of Lewis. By a bold attack, Edwards won new reputation and alarmed his men, who then saved his life and the honor of his beloved," said old Harmar, in defence of his hero.

"I expect they would have murdered the poor man, and then Lewis would have forced Miss Williams to become his wife—the wretch!" put in Mrs. Harmar.

"Nothing would have been too black for his heart, when he had an end in view. Such men are the most dangerous foes to their fellows, and we must rejoice when a just punishment overtakes them in their headstrong career. Many of those who are glorified as great men have possessed the same unscrupulous disposition. The only difference between them and Lewis lies in this—they fixed their minds on greater objects," said old Harmar.

"What's that for?" inquired Higgins, starting up as the sound of drum and fife broke on his ear. Mrs. Harmar went to the front window, and reported that a Volunteer company of soldiers was coming down the street. The old men instantly crowded round the window, and expressed their gratification at the sight that presented itself. The volunteers were neatly uniformed and very precisely drilled. They marched with the firm and uniform tread of regulars. The "ear-piercing fife and spirit-stirring drum" discoursed the music sweetest to the ears of the old warriors, and their eyes brightened and they made an effort to straighten themselves, as if "the old time came o'er them." They lingered at the window as long as they could catch the sound, and long after the volunteers had turned the corner of the street. Perhaps, if we had possessed sufficient mental insight, we might have been with those old men in the scenes that came back to their minds like a tide that had seemed to have ebbed away for ever. We might have been with them where the drum and fife were as strong drink to the warriors, firing their hearts and steeling their nerves for the bloody struggle. But we are left to conjecture what was present to their imaginations by what they express in conversation.

BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN.

"Those fellows look very neat and prim; they march well, and their muskets are polished very bright. I wonder how they would stand fire," said Higgins, after the party had seated themselves.

"I doubt if they would like it as well as parading the streets; but there may be some stout hearts among them," replied old Harmar.

"They should have been at Brandywine or Germantown. At either place they would have had a chance to prove their stuff. Fife and drum would have been necessary, I think, to stir them up," said Wilson.

"I paid a visit to Germantown, the other day," said Mr. Jackson Harmar. "I passed over the chief portion of the battle-ground, and examined Chew's house, where some of the British took refuge and managed to turn the fortunes of the day. The house is in a good state of preservation, and bears many marks of the conflict."

"I have seen it since the day of the battle, and have also walked over the neighboring grounds," said Smith "You are wrong in stating that the troops that threw themselves into that house turned the fortune of the day. Our defeat was the result of many unlooked-for circumstances, which no general could have been prepared to meet."

"I have always understood that the check received by our troops at Chew's house gave the enemy time to rally, and thus defeated Washington's plan," replied Mr. Jackson Harmar. "If it was otherwise, I should like to be informed of the circumstances."

"Oh, tell us about the battle of Germantown, Mr. Smith!" exclaimed Mrs. Harmar. She had some acquaintances at Germantown, and she wished to astound them by the extent of her information. "Father says he was not in the battle, being sick at the time. Besides, if he knew, he would never condescend to tell me about it, when he could find Jackson to talk to."

"Why, I'm sure, my child, you never seemed very anxious to know," replied old Harmar; "but if you will listen to Mr. Smith, you will know all about it. He was present during the whole battle."

"Ay; and did my share of the fighting, too," added Smith. "But I'll tell you how it was; and you, Mr. Harmar, may judge whether our defeat was owing in any degree to the exertions of the enemy. After General Howe took possession of Philadelphia, the main body of the British was encamped at Germantown. Our army lay at Skippack Creek, about sixteen miles from Germantown. Well, General Washington having received all the reinforcements he expected, and knowing that the enemy had been considerably weakened by sending detachments to take possession of the city and the ports on the river, determined to attempt to surprise them in their camp. The plan was formed with all the judgment and foresight we might expect in Washington. We were to march at night for Germantown. Wayne and Sullivan were to attack the left wing of the enemy in front, whilst Armstrong, with a body of militia, attacked it in the rear. Greene and Stephens were to attack the right wing in front, while Smallwood fell upon its rear. Then there was a strong reserve. Of course, I was with the Pennsylvania line, under Wayne's command. We started on the evening of the third of October. I shall never forget that night's march. It was very dark. We could scarcely see three feet from us; and, as we wished to move on so as not to be discovered by any of those who usually gave the enemy information, we carried very few lanthorns. The road, however, was well known, and we marched rapidly and surely. As we approached Germantown, we found an evidence that the enemy were aware of our vicinity, and Wayne determined to attack at once. Just at dawn of day, a party of Sullivan's troops attacked the picket at the end of the village, and our whole division rushed on as the picket was driven in. The surprise was complete. The enemy could not make a stand. They were broken and routed, and their tents and marquees burnt. We pushed on, took some prisoners, and drove the British from behind fences and houses where they had taken shelter.

"Six companies of a British regiment, under their lieutenant-colonel, being hard pressed by an advancing column, threw themselves into Chew's house, and, barricading the lower windows, opened a destructive fire from the cellars and upper windows. Our troops, finding their musketry made no impression, were in the act of dragging up their cannon to batter the walls, when a stratagem was attempted, which, however, failed of success. An officer galloped up from the house, and cried out, 'What are you about? You will fire on your own people.' The artillery opened, but, after fifteen or twenty rounds, the pieces were found to be of too small calibre to make a serious impression, and were withdrawn.

"A most daring attempt was then made to fire the building. Lieutenant-Colonel Laurens, aid-de-camp to the commander-in-chief, with a few volunteers, rushed up to the house under cover of the smoke, and applied a burning brand to the principal door, at the same time exchanging passes with his sword with the enemy on the inside. By almost a miracle, this gallant officer escaped unharmed, although his clothes were repeatedly torn by the enemy's shot. Another and equally daring attempt was made by Major White, aide-de-camp to General Sullivan, but without as fortunate a result. The major, while in the act of firing one of the cellar windows, was mortally wounded, and died soon after.

"Washington accompanied the leading division under Major-General Sullivan, and cheered his soldiers in their brilliant onset, as they drove the enemy from point to point. Arriving in the vicinity of Chew's house, the commander-in-chief halted to consult his officers as to the best course to be pursued towards this fortress that had so suddenly and unexpectedly sprung up in the way. The younger officers who were immediately attached to the person of the chief, and among the choicest spirits of the Revolution, including Hamilton, Reed, Pinckney, Laurens, and Lee, were for leaving Chew's house to itself, or of turning the siege into a blockade, by stationing in its vicinity a body of troops to watch the movements of the garrison, and pressing on with the column in pursuit of the flying enemy. But the sages of the army, at the head of whom was Major-General Knox, repulsed at once the idea of leaving a fortified enemy in the rear, as contrary to the usages of war and the most approved military authorities.

"At this period of the action the fog had become so dense that objects could scarcely be distinguished at a few yards' distance. We had penetrated the enemy's camp even to their second line, which was drawn up to receive us about the centre of Germantown. The ammunition of the right wing, including the Maryland brigades, became exhausted, the soldiers holding up their empty cartridge boxes, when their officers called on them to rally and face the enemy. The extended line of operations, which embraced nearly two miles, the unfavorable nature of the ground in the environs of Germantown for the operations of the troops, a large portion of whom were undisciplined, the ground being much cut up, and intersected by stone fences and enclosures of various sorts, the delay of the left wing under Greene in getting into action—all these causes, combined with an atmosphere so dense from fog and smoke as to make it impossible to distinguish friend from foe, produced a retreat in our army at the moment when victory seemed to be within its grasp.

"Washington was among the foremost in his endeavors to restore the fallen fortunes of the day, and, while exerting himself to rally his broken columns, the exposure of his person became so imminent, that his officers, after affectionately remonstrating with him in vain, seized the bridle of his horse. The retreat, under all circumstances, was quite as favorable as could be expected. The whole of the artillery was saved, and as many of the wounded as could be removed. The ninth Virginia regiment, under Colonel Mathews, having penetrated so far as to be without support, after a desperate resistance, surrendered its remnant of a hundred men, including its colonel, who had received several bayonet wounds. The British pursued but two or three miles, making prisoners of the worn-out soldiers, who, after a night-march of fifteen miles and an action of three hours, were found exhausted and asleep in the fields and along the road.

"I made a narrow escape from being taken by a party of dragoons. They were nearly upon a small body of us that had got separated from our division, before we perceived them. I gave the alarm, and we ran on, as we thought, toward our troops; but the fog was so thick that we mistook the way, and wandered about for some time in constant risk of being surrounded by the enemy. At length we stumbled on the main body of our line, and retreated with them. I never saw a more irritated and disappointed set of men than our officers on that day. Every one had a different cause for the repulse. Some said that Greene did not come up in time to aid Wayne and Sullivan; while others said that Greene had performed the most effective service during the engagement, and that the loss of the day was owing to the military prejudices of Knox and some others, who would halt to attack Chew's house, instead of following up the advantages already gained. Then the fog was blamed for the confusion it caused. The fact was, the defeat was owing to many causes combined, some of which I have mentioned."

"The attack was certainly skilfully planned and truly executed, in spite of its want of success," remarked old Harmar. "Your opinion of the causes of the defeat, Mr. Smith, is that which is now generally adopted. The halt at Chew's house did not give rise to the retreat of Sullivan's division. The ammunition of the troops was exhausted, and they were not aware of Greene's approach until they had begun to fall back. By the way, did you hear how General Nash was killed?"

"He was killed by a cannon-ball, I believe," replied Smith.

"Yes," said old Harmar. "A round-shot from the British artillery striking a sign-post in Germantown, glanced therefrom, and, passing through his horse, shattered the general's thigh on the opposite side. The fall of the animal hurled its unfortunate rider with considerable force to the ground. With surprising courage and presence of mind, General Nash, covering his wound with both of his hands, called to his men, 'Never mind me, I have had a devil of a tumble; rush on, my boys, rush on the enemy—I'll be after you presently.' He could do no more.

Faint from loss of blood and the intense agony of his wound, the sufferer was borne to a house hard by, and attended by Dr. Craik, by special order of the commander-in-chief. The doctor gave his patient but feeble hopes of recovery, even with the chances of amputation, when Nash observed, 'It may be considered unmanly to complain, but my agony is too great for human nature to bear. I am aware that my days, perhaps hours, are numbered, but I do not repine at my fate. I have fallen on the field of honor, while leading my brave Carolinians to the assault of the enemy. I have a last request to make of his Excellency, the commander-in-chief, that he will permit you, my dear doctor, to remain with me, to protect me while I live, and my remains from insult.' Dr. Craik assured the general that he had nothing to fear from the enemy; it was impossible that they would harm him while living, or offer insult to his remains; that Lord Cornwallis was by this time in the field, and that, under his auspices, a wounded soldier would be treated with humanity and respect. The dying patriot and hero then uttered these memorable words: 'I have no favors to expect from the enemy. I have been consistent in my principles and conduct since the commencement of the troubles. From the very first dawn of the Revolution I have ever been on the side of liberty and my country.' "He lingered in extreme torture between two and three days, and died admired by his enemies, admired and lamented by his companions in arms. On Thursday, the ninth of October, the whole American army was paraded by order of the commander-in-chief, to perform the funeral obsequies of General Nash."