CHAPTER I.

THIS tale is one of the thousand, remaining untold, of the dark days of the Revolution. Who that has merely perused the most important events of that era, such as was the province of the historian, being only a faithful record of the transactions of public magnitude, can conceive the numberless thrilling incidents connected with humble individuals?

was deprived of his preceptors, and having no pros pect of obtaining the means of support, he experienced acute addition to his wretchedness, in the change that came over the aspect of his acquaintances. He had the mortification of being told that he must seek other lodgings by his hitherto obsequious host, who had often expressed for him scarce less than pa. rental attachment. Pity is more talked of than entertained. Many would really take pleasure in amelio rating the condition of the unfortunate, were it not that they would be compelled to open their purses to do it. Flinty hearts and wire strings to them, are not

The former is preserved in the archives of our country: the latter may yet, and should be, revealed, by the few remaining survivors of that epoch, ere they become dubious traditions, or the improbable crea-half so adamantine as the silken strings and frail intions of the imagination. This story, in many parti culars, is vouched for by one who lived at the time, and had a knowledge of the things treated of.

Charles ➖➖ was born in France, from whence his parents removed to this country, when he was an infant. When but a lad, he evinced extraordinary manifestations of intellect, and was furnished by his indulgent and happy parents with every facility of acquiring a good education. Unlike most youths of his condition, the only and beloved child of wealthy and respectable parentage, instead of being spoiled by their caresses, he devoted more than common attention to his tutors, seeming to enjoy, with peculiar zest, all their instructions.

Thus delightfully were his days passed, until the slight stripling was emerging into manhood, but yet retaining the effeminacy, or delicate mould of form and features, so frequently observable in those born and reared in cities.

terstices of -a well-filled purse. A commiserating tongue will tell that the former is benevolent and sympathizing-but the irascible button on the pocket declares that the latter acts only for its own benefit.

Charles for weeks strove in vain to procure some employment to enable him to live. Disappointed in every application, he finally set out alone on foot, determined, as a last resource, to present himself to a distant relation in New Jersey. This relation was named Barton; the father of Charles had more than once assisted him in his pecuniary arrangements, but this, he thought, had been repaid by ingratitude, and a subsequent coolness existed between the families ever after. This caused our hero to hesitate long before he yielded to the necessity of applying to his only surviving kindred.

Mr. Barton was a farmer, industrious and grasping, without much regard for the good will of men, and was fast getting rich. He concealed his political sentiments, or rather was thought to embrace either side alternately, as his immediate interest dictated. With this reputation, he partook but little of social intercourse with his neighbors, and when business called him not forth, he shut himself impenetrably up with his family. He, too, had but one child-a daughter. Mary was a pale, quiet, dark-eyed girl, whose lips rarely sported a smile, yet she was considered handsome. Her thoughtful brow and grave deportment excited the interest of those that might, by chance, behold her, and some pitied her lonely condition, (her mother having died in giving her birth,) and regretted that one apparently so well calculated to adorn socie

But ere long, calamities of direful hue succeeded to his days of peaceful sunshine. First, he was bereft of his mother by a prevailing epidemic-then came the loss of fortune; which was quickly followed by the demise of his father. A particular description of these events is not requisite for our purpose. The cause of many a train of misfortunes is indescribable, but sufficient for the scathed is the evil thereof! Many fall from their lofty stations amongst men, though virtuous and prudent, like the leaves from the green oak, that were not more exposed to the fury of the storm than their fellows that yet remain. Others rise, though less meritorious than their compeers, like the water-spout in the ocean, and in vain may we conjec-ty, should be immured in unbroken seclusion, with ture why one drop should be exalted above another. Charles was in utter destitution. He yet remained at his boarding house, (his parents had resided at a pleasant villa in the neighborhood of the city,) but

such a callous and rigid companion, though that being was her father. Yet if any imagined she was debarred of all the pleasures of life, and pined in solitude for enjoyments, from which she was excluded by an

unfeeling parent, they were much mistaken. Not having seen, much less tasted, the dissipations and gay frivolities of fashionalbe society, she was content to employ her leisure hours in reading, or bending over her guitar. She had her books, her flowers, her music, and her birds. Her meditative look was the necessary product of solitude, and if she did not often betray the buoyant joyousness of the hoyden, still she was exempt from woman's greatest curse-disappointment, or treachery in love. She had never experienced the malice of a rival, nor envied the more fascinating charms of another. She had never loved, but had attained the age and power to love. At this juncture, females more resemble angels than at any subsequent period of their existence. So, at least, the fortunate swain imagines, who enjoys her first and only affection in all its force.

snow rested on the earth, yet the sun rose in brilliance,
and a mild calmness succeeded the keen blast that
had been howling through the tossing boughs of the
trees. With scarce a cheering hope, he strode on-
ward, conjuring up vision after vision in quest of con-
solation. Now the birds fluttered upward, abandon-
ing the chill shade, and, on the joyous wing, sang
once more a happy trill in the bright sunshine. The
glittering light around at length enlivened the youth
in some measure, and he quickened his pace, with a
resolution to meet Mr. Barton without delay, and pro-
test against his disreputable practices.

Why, my dear Mr. Brown, have you abandoned the pulpit for the field? But what can you do? Your hand shakes so, that ten to one you would miss your man at five paces distant. If you do not cease these eccentricities. I must believe the report prevalent throughout the country, that you are in your dotagenotwithstanding I have hitherto loved you so much, and vindicated your opinions."

When Charles presented himself, Mr. Barton greet-shoulder, and long remained silent, intently regarding ed him merely with civility. He was received into the young man's fine features. the family, but without the ceremony of a hearty welcome, and was informed that he might consider himself in possession of a home, but that it was expected he should contribute for his maintenance, such labor as might be required of him. To this he readily assented, and was pleased to observe a slight smile. but one of kindness and encouragement, on the face of Mary, who had scrutinized him in silence, from the time he entered the apartment, without once having averted her dark, beaming eyes.

CHAPTER II.

"Charles!" said the aged minister in a tremulous voice; he was bereft of farther articulation for some time by the harrowing emotion that succeeded, and bitter tears ran down his blanched cheeks. "Charles," he continued, "it is true I am a professed minister of the gospel. I would suppress vice by every means in my power. Every species of injustice is contrary to the will of our father in heaven, and as his humble servant, I would combat wrong in every guise. Think you not that some men whom you see, or hear of, are in error?"

Certainly! I believe the British are wrong."
"True! you anticipate my intent-I will oppose
the British."

"Washington recommends all divines-"

"I know that, Charles. But the time has come when acts are more needed than words."

CHARLES was standing in a small enclosure, composed of heavy rails and trunks of small trees, which had been hastily arranged by Mr. Barton. This contracted penfold was in the most remote spot that could be selected in the forest. Trees stood so thick around and within it, that one might fail to discover the score of fatted beeves there secreted, even at a short distance. And there stood our hero, like a smuggler watching over his booty. Sad and painful were the thoughts of Charles, as he paced to and fro with his gun on his shoulder. But you cannot act, Mr Brown. You are too "To be thus required to watch over a few beasts," old, and I too young. Would to heaven it were not he muttered," and guard them against my country-so!" men, too, to supply, perhaps, in the end, an invading foe! Ignoble and pusillanimous calling! No obligations—no circumstances can justify it, and from this instant, henceforth, I spurn the vile employment!" He turned from the hidden treasure of his master, and slowly paced along the path that wound its serpentine way through thicket and dell to the extensive planta tion of Mr. Barton. He felt as one that leaps from the deck in a dark night, when the ship is captured by pirates, determined to take his chance in the sea, with the desperate hope that an assisting hand may save him, or that the land may not be far distant. What could he do without friends or money,-too young and frail to gratify the impulse of his heart, by joining his country's forces against the enemy?

It was a November morning, and although a slight

"It is not so, Charles. Listen to me. I had a son,
(alas had!) not much older than yourself, who was at
Brooklin, and lingered longest on the disastrous field.
At Kipp's Bay, he threw himself in front of his gene-
ral, and vowed to die with him. For this he was
promised promotion. At White Plains he fought
bravely to the last, and was left on the field with the
wounded. His knee was but slightly shattered, yet
disabled him from retiring. When the enemy came
up, he stated his condition, and requested the assist-
ance of a surgeon, yielding himself a prisoner of war.
He was refused the aid he solicited, and when faint-
ing with thirst and loss of blood, he begged merely a
little water, a soldier came forward with many exe-
crations, and thrust him through the heart with his
bayonet!"

"The murderer! By heaven, I—” "Charles, we will revenge him. After bidding adieu to Mr. Barton, and Mary, whom you love, and who is lovely, come to my house. Leave your gun behind. Adieu, for the present, but meet me as I have said." The old man, with uncommon agility, sprang aside, and was soon lost to view.

CHAPTER III.

LIKE a drooping parent, despoiled of a portion of his beloved offspring, still endeavoring to escape the pursuit of the relentless wild beast, and at the same time in quest of an opportunity to cripple or destroy it,the only man that could rely in confidence on the

of a succession of ruinous calamities, Washington, retreated through New Jersey, followed by a des ponding though faithful band of only three thousand

men.

Charles proceeded on in wonderment, unable to comprehend the intentions of the old man, but re-retributive justice of Divine Providence, in the midst solved to comply with his injunctions. He took leave of Mr. Barton in the man.ier contemplated, and instead of reproaches and opposition, the latter only stared at him in astonishment, without uttering a word. He was forced to depart without seeing Mary, who could not be found. He laid aside his gun as directed, and strode briskly along the path leading through the orchard. As he was mounting the tall fence at the farthest extremity of the exclosure, he espied Mary emerging from a thick hedge in advance, and turn to meet him.

The small army of patriots was encamped in an open field, where the inclemency of the weather as sailed them, in the absence of the sanguine foe. But in the attacks of both, Washington was with them. Night closed in, and a hundred fires, which barely sufficed to protect the suffering soldiers from the more acute rigors of the season, speckled the heath. Late in the night, the watchful sentry hailed two strangers, and the old minister was conducted, at his own request, to the tent of the commander-in-chief.

Charles, who had been detained in custody, soon observed a small detachment of soldiers approach and pass in the direction of the secreted beeves in the foHe heard some remarks which convinced him that the old minister had sent them thither, and he was content.

Mary," said Charles, faltering, "I am unworthy-rest. but-"

"What do yo mean, Charles ?"

After a short time had elapsed, Mr. Brown relieved him of his lonesome condition, and stated that he had discovered to the general (who was in great need of provisions, and would see them paid for,) the beeves of Mr. Barton. And that he had also suggested the propriety of securing the ferry boats far up the river to provide against the advance of the enemy on Philadelphia, and, at the same time, to facilitate the retreat of the Americans.*

Unable to oppose the approaching torrent, Washington yielded to the necessity of crossing the Delaware. Mr. Brown and Charles were now in the

"I am sure you can, though. I love you, too!-American camp. Neither were required to do serUpon my word! Now, you almost make me tremble. There-let me go—that's enough, in all conscience. Now, why are you leaving me ?"

"I know not, Mary; Mr. Brown has not told me." "I always do every thing that good man requireshe will never lead you wrong, Charles. But what will become of me when you are away? Father says the rapacious soldiers are coming."

vice, but the former was regarded with reverence by all, and particularly noticed by the commander, with whom he had frequent interviews. Charles had the satisfaction of seeing and speaking to the greatest man of his country, and his zeal was redoubled to perform some act worthy commendation. Many a veteran smiled at his ardent protestations of attachment to the cause of liberty, and although his arm

"Is it possible? Which, the English or the Ame-seemed too delicate to do any prodigies, yet his cheer ricans ?"

ful looks, as he spoke of victories to be achieved, were inspiring.

"Why did you insist on my not carrying a gun, Mr. Brown, whilst at the same time you retain your pistol? I feel quite able to do something for the

"I know not-but may heaven protect you till country; one who has labored with the plough is then!"

"And you, too, Charles!"

surely competent to handle a gun. I will procure a carbine immediately, and fall in the ranks!"

my advice. The victory is not to the strong. You shall speedily have a chance of testifying your attachment for your adopted country. You shall do more without a gun than you could with it. You are intimately acquainted with all the passes in the vicinity of Trenton. The enemy now possess that place, and employ themselves in devastating the country around. To night our general intends crossing the river, and needs our services as guides."

66

"Thank God! Then I can do something at last. to me, and besides whom I have no friend, save But why not carry a gun?" Mary-I will act in every thing according to thy Because you embark in a perilous undertaking, direction. But I crave to be permitted to ride out to and if taken with arms, might suffer. As you are, Mr. Barton's and take leave, in person, of Mary. I you may escape injury. For my part, I take the pis-have a horse provided, and promise to return in an tol, to be regarded as a deranged man, if taken. See, hour." This was granted, and Charles waited not there is no lock on it."

for his aged friends' departure, though their route would be the same; but calculated to meet him, and bid him farewell somewhere on the road as he returned to Trenton.

The American army, now considerably reinforced, though suffering almost intolerable privations for want of raiment, yet looked to God for the triumph of justice, under the guidance of their revered leader, and It was a noble bay steed that wafted Charles, neglected no means of manifesting their desire of re- through moor and woodland, scarcely less swift than trieving the numerous misfortunes that had befallen the flight of the pigeon; and thrilling thoughts as the cause during the preceding campaign. It was rapidly exercised the youth's imagination. Deeds of Christmas, and many a merry peal burst forth when glory were pictured in all his reveries, and in the the soldiers were informed of the contemplated expe-back ground or side view the approving smile of his dition. That day the aged minister prayed more fer Mary cheered him on. vently than ever before. His impressive manner dif- The tall, gray chimneys emerge in view as he fused a solemnity throughout the assembly, and renew-sweeps round the angle of an alder thicket, and now ed ardor and firmer determination were inspired in the the tramp of his fleet charger is sounding in the hearts of all. The preparations were made, and many a avenue of fruit trees, leading directly to the house. smile and jest were exchanged on the coming frolic." Without pausing to unfasten the gate, his noble bay, Adopting every prudential measure, the resolute band at a slight pressure of the bit, vaulted over the stone crossed the broad Delaware in silence, and under co- fence, and stood in the yard. Charles dismounted ver of the night, proceeded on their way in quest of and entered the house, but found Mr. Barton's room the enemy. Occasionally a hooting owl started from empty. He then ran to Mary's chamber, and his rap bis bough, and flapped across the path of the benumb- was answered by the affrighted girl incoherently. He ed guides; but no superstition could intimidate them. pushed the door open and entered. The old man and Charles contributed much towards conducting the army to the place of destination. The glorious achievement that ensued is known to all. Charles, who had displayed much gallantry in the attack, having seized a gun, and placed himself amongst the van, was now in transports; and the minister said his prayers were answered.

"Now, my son," said Mr. Brown to Charles, " my frail body admonishes me to retire to my peaceful home. My revenge, which thirsted not for the destruction of human life, so much as the brightening of the great cause, is appeased somewhat. I adopt you, Charles, in the place of my deceased son, and leave you to fill the station for which he was destined. Go on to victory! and when an enemy fals in your power, remember the fate of my poor wounded boy, and let his pitiable condition, teach thee mercy! Spare the fallen man's life. And thou wilt do it-I know thou wilt, for I have often marked the pure, though ardent emotions of thy heart. You are, I know, ambitious, and I rejoice in it, so long as you are virtuous. you aspire to great things, you may accomplish them easily by pursuing the right course. Let your conduct be uniform, and tend to the one object. Orphan as you are, remember that the ant is not deter red from the point of its destination by obstacles, how

If

"Oh,

"Charles! Charles!" screamed the relieved girl, and running to him, threw herself in his arms. Charles, I am so happy to see you!" she continued, sailing, though tears had evidently been flowing befure the youth's arrival. "But," said she, "I fear for my poor father. Not two hours since, eight or nine Hessians came here in search of provisions, and insisted on my father's yielding them up the beeves he had secreted. In vain he told them they had escaped or been stolen-no protestations could appease them, and they dragged him hence, threatening death, if he led not the way directly to the cattle."

Excepting the somewhat painful apprehensions respecting the fate of Mr. Barton, the lovers enjoyed happily the time allotted for the meeting. Charles promised to procure, if possible, a small party of American soldiers to come to the rescue. When the moment of parting came, and just as the last lingering farewell was sadly accomplished, the report of a pistol startled them, which was succeeded by several others in quick succession. "Charles! they are killing my father! Here!" exclaimed Mary, running to a side press, from which she quickly produced two muskets and a supply of cartridges. Charles seized one of them, and was in the act of rushing out, when the almost frantic girl held him fast.

"See, Charles, see! He comes-he comes!" she | dation; but she stood upright with a bright musket exclaimed, beholding from the window her parent firmly grasped in her delicate hands, only awaiting mounted on a fleet horse, that spurned the earth with the next discharge of Charles to supply him immedi the celerity of an antelope, hard pursued by the hos- ately with the means of farther defence. tile party. A small hollow in the lane obscured the pursued a moment from view; and when a cluster of the enemy dashed down the descent behind, Charles fired, and one of the number fell from his horse.

Here!" cried Mary, handing her companion the other piece, with sudden and strange composure, having witnessed the execution of his fatal aim.

Again they were all in view, and ere long Mr. Barton, some seventy paces in advance, attained the yard. He sprang from his horse, and ran briskly to the door; but even on the threshhold, when one moment more would have insured at least temporary safety, a shot from the foremost of the enemy passed through his body, and he expired on the steps. But the one that did this was in eternity ere the smoke of his pistol permitted him to view his handiwork, by a discharge from the window above. The party paused at the stone fence, behind which they screened themselves, fearing to leap over.

“Oh, Charles, why don't father come up?-1 saw him reach the door in safety. Why don't he come? Father!" she added, calling aloud, but no response came. Charles, from his position, could see the dead body of her father, but told her not.

"Yield!" shouted those without, " or take the consequences!"

"Never!" was the reply.

This was soon followed by the crackling of burning faggots below, and in a short time particles of smoke ascended through several crevices of the floor. "They are firing the house, Charles!" said Mary, in low, subdued tones.

Villains! would you destroy a helpless female ?" This exclamation of Charles was answered by another shot through the door, which wounded him in the arm. The besieged were now apparently without a single hope of escape. The exasperated ruffians shouted aloud their determination to show no mercy. In consequence of the suffocating fumes rising from below, Charles and Mary were compelled to move to the window to inhale the purer air, and there awaited their fate.

"Go down and kindle it again," remarked one of those without, who was guarding the chamber door, on being informed by his companions that the fire was going out, and who insisted on forcing their entrance into the room, and ending the affair at once. The smoke subsided in some degree, but again the 'Hopkins, there is no one up there but his ghost of unfortunate captives could distinctly hear them blow

a daughter. Let us rush in and secure her."

ing the coals below.

"Huzza!" shouted the beleaguers exultingly, and the next instant Charles beheld another party of red coats coming at full gallop up the lane. Motionless and in silence the lovers gazed on the approaching hostile party. As they drew near, a sudden gleam of joy spread over the features of our hero.

"Thank Almighty God! Mary, we are savedsaved!" he exclaimed, recognizing the American spies in British costume, and the long, snowy locks of the minister standing out as he came in fearful speed.

"No, sargeant, she's not a ghost, but a female devil! She's peppered two already, for our one." "Shall we be repulsed by a woman? No! Come on, be she witch or devil." Saying, this, the sergeant leapt on the fence, but instantly fell inside, pierced through the heart by another shot from Charles. The other gun, ready loaded, was handed to our hero by Mary, whose silence and pale, compressed lip, indicated a foreboding that her father was indeed lost. Ere he could discharge this, he was espied by the party without, who again fell back behind the wall,The Hessians ran down to the door of the hall, and at the same time discharging a volley at the window. "I am not wounded, Charles!" said Mary, whose long, flowing hair fell down in confusion on her shoulders, the comb by which it had been confined, being carried away by a bullet. Again the besieging party sprang forward, simultaneously discharging their pistols at the now shattered window, and rushed into the building, leaving midway in the yard a fourth companion dead, and one wounded, by the desperate oolness and fatal fire of Charles.

"Stand in that corner, Mary!" cried our hero, barring the door, and leaping to one side. The moment after he did this, three balls passed through the pine door and entered the opposite wall. Charles reserved his fire, well knowing the frail barrier might easily be forced, and resolved to sell his life as dearly as possible. They summoned him to surrender; but in a firm tone he peremptorily refused, defying them to do their worst, well aware that he had shed too much blood to expect mercy at their hands. Mary spoke not, nor shed a woman's tear, nor was her intense paleness accompanied with a particle of trepi

men!

welcomed the supposed reinforcement with another shout. Throwing himself in advance, on perceiving the smoke issuing from the lower windows, and the anxious forms of the youthful couple above, the old man stretched both arms aloft, and cried, "We are in time! We are in time! To the rescue, my brave Glory to God on high!" To extinguish the flames and secure the now appalled and unresisting enemy, was but the work of a few moments. The old man rushed up stairs-the door was unbarred by Mary, who, with her disabled companion, ran into the embrace of their deliverer. The old man clasped them ardently, muttering thanks to divine Providence. Then, and not till then, did Mary yield to woman's feelings. The overwhelming reaction of her long pent-up emotions burst forth in one loud scream—" My poor father!" and sinking down, she long remained inanimate. When in some degree recovered, she was permitted to weep without restraint over the body of her father; yet she submissively heeded the condoling accents of the old man, who promised to fill that parent's place.