"Were either of you in the expedition against Ticonderoga?" enquired Hand, wishing to learn the particulars of that affair.

"Ay," replied a little old man, who had quit eating and fallen asleep during Davenport's narrative, and had only wakened up at the sound of the drum and fife, playing "Come out, ye Continentallers." "I was with Ethan Allen. I was one of the Green Mountain Boys, that did the thing."

"Then perhaps you can tell us something about it," said Kinnison, "and about the quarrel between Allen and Arnold. I never heard the facts of the case, but from what I know of the two men, I feel sure Arnold was wrong."

"To be sure he was," said old Timothy Ransom. "To be sure he was. But I'll tell you all I know about the matter. I was at work on my farm when I heard of the battle of Lexington. I belonged to a regiment of militia that used to meet for drill on a neighbouring farm. Ethan Allen was the Colonel, and he was fit to be the leader anywhere. He would lead where any would follow, was as honest a man as ever breathed, and had a great share of strong sense. As soon as Colonel Allen heard that the war had really begun, he determined to seize Ticonderoga, where a great quantity of munitions of war were stored. I forgot to tell you, however, that Allen was commissioned a colonel by the government of Vermont. He collected our boys at his residence, and marched to Bennington, where he expected to be joined by more volunteers. At Bennington we met Colonel Easton, with some men from his regiment of militia. Our party then amounted to two hundred and seventy men; and, though I was one among 'em, I may be allowed to say, that a more daring, and a tougher set of men were never assembled. About dusk on the 7th of May, we reached Castleton—that's about fourteen miles east of Skenesborough. There we were to make our final arrangements. A council of war was held. Colonel Allen was appointed commander of the expedition, Colonel Easton second in command, and Seth Warner, third. Allen, with the main force, was to march to Shoreham, opposite Ticonderoga, Captain Herrick with thirty men was to push up to Skenesborough, and capture the young Major Skene, confine his people, and seizing all the boats he could find there, hasten to join Allen at Shoreham; and Captain Douglas was to proceed to Panton, beyond Crown Point, and secure all the boats that should fall in his way. On the 9th of May, Arnold arrived at Castleton, with a few officers and men, and after introducing himself to our officers, showed a commission from the Massachusetts Committee of Safety, by which he claimed the supreme command. But our boys wouldn't hear anything of the kind. We all said that Ethan Allen was our leader, and if he had not the command, we would march back to our homes. So Colonel Arnold found that he would have to join us without a command, or go back where he came from. He chose to join as a mere volunteer, smothering his claim till another occasion. On the same day on which Colonel Arnold arrived, Mr. Phelps, one of the Connecticut Committee who were with us, disguised himself as a countryman who wanted to be shaved, and visited Ticonderoga, to spy into the condition of the garrison. He found that the walls of the old fort were broken down, and that the small garrison were careless of all discipline. As soon as Colonel Allen was informed of this state of things, he resolved to move on at once. We marched to the shore of the lake, opposite Ticonderoga, during the night of the 9th of May. Allen had secured a guide in a boy named Nathan Beman, who was fully acquainted with every secret way that led into the fortress. But we found that we hadn't boats enough to carry all the party over the lake. Allen, Arnold, Easton, and eighty-three of the men, of whom I was one, had crossed just as the day was beginning to dawn. To wait would have been too hazardous, as the garrison, if aroused, might make a stout resistance; and we wanted to buy success as cheap as possible. Colonel Allen resolved to commence the attack at once. We were drawn up in three ranks on the shore nearly opposite the fort. Allen then made a short address to us. He was never a man of many words. He said he knew our spirit, and hoped we would remember the cause for which we were about to strike; that would nerve the arm of a coward. He concluded by conjuring us to obey orders strictly, and to commit no slaughter that could be done without. Then, with Arnold at his side, Allen led us stealthily up the rocks to the sally-port. I saw the sentinel snap his fusee at our bold leader, and rush into the covered way that led into the fort. We followed upon his heels, and were thus guided right into the parade within the barracks. There another sentinel made a thrust at Easton. But Colonel Allen struck him on the head with his sword and the fellow begged for quarter. As we rushed into the parade, we gave a tremendous shout, and filed off into two divisions. The men of the garrison leaped from their beds, seized their arms, and rushed into the parade, only to be seized by our men. I snatched a musket from a red-coat's hand just as he was taking aim at Captain Herrick, and made the fellow shriek for quarter, by merely striking him alongside of the face with my fist. While we were securing the men, Colonel Allen and the boy, Nathan Beman, went up stairs to the door of the room in which Captain Delaplace and his wife were sleeping. Allen gave three loud raps with the hilt of his sword on the door, and with his strong voice, ordered the captain to surrender, or the whole garrison should be slaughtered. Our shouting had awakened the captain and his wife, and they sprang to the door. Delaplace appeared in his shirt and drawers, and recognising Colonel Allen as an old friend, boldly demanded why he was disturbed. Allen replied, by ordering him to surrender instantly. Delaplace then said, 'By what authority do you demand it?' 'In the name of the Great Jehovah and the Continental Congress,' replied Colonel Allen, with the full thunder of his voice, as he raised his sword over the head of the Captain. This convinced the captain that the wisest course was to comply, and so he gave the order for the troops to parade without arms. Forty-eight British regulars surrendered prisoners of war, and the fort and every thing in it became ours. The regulars, with the women and children, were sent to Hartford. We found nearly two hundred pieces of ordnance, and an immense quantity of ammunition of all kinds and plenty of eatables. Just after the surrender, Seth Warner, with the rear division, crossed the lake and joined us. The prisoners were secured and then we all took a hearty breakfast. We had been up and on duty all night, and that, together with our success, made us enjoy that breakfast more than an every-day one. Colonel Arnold again attempted to take the command of our men and the fort. But none of us would obey his orders, and the Connecticut Committee said that Colonel Allen was the rightful commander, as the men were to be paid by Connecticut, and Massachusetts had furnished nothing for the enterprise, and Allen had been formally chosen. Arnold was forced to yield; but he sent a statement of the matter to the Massachusetts Assembly. That body confirmed Allen's appointment and directed Arnold not to interfere. On the day of the capture of Ticonderoga, Colonel Seth Warner, with a small body of our men, was sent to take possession of Crown Point. But a tremendous storm arose, and Warner was compelled to put back and pass the night with us. But the next day, he started and captured Crown Point without firing a shot. You see the garrison only amounted to a serjeant and eleven men, and they didn't expect an attack; so that Warner had only to come suddenly upon them, and make a bold show, and they surrendered. More than one hundred cannon were taken at that place, and thus, you see, we had something to begin the war with. Colonel Arnold gave up the idea of commanding at Ticonderoga, but he would command somewhere, and so he soon after undertook an expedition against St. John's. It appears to me, Arnold was very wrong in attempting to remove such a man as Allen from the command. But I believe he was always thinking of himself alone."

"I can't agree with you, Ransom," said Jonas Davenport. "I think he was a selfish man in general; but I know he could be generous sometimes. In that expedition to Canada, he helped his men whenever he could in the smallest matters, when many other commanders would have minded their own comfort alone. Let us have justice done to every man. I never liked Arnold as a man; but I think he was as good a soldier and general as I ever knew."

"Certainly as good a soldier," said Kinnison.

"His generalship," said Pitts, "never had much play. As far as he had the chance, he proved that he had the skill and knowledge for planning military enterprises."

"I preferred old Putnam to Arnold," said John Warner. "He was quite as daring, and a much better-hearted man."

"Ay, a braver man than General Putnam never drew a blade," said Kinnison. "That man's adventures would make as interestin' a book as you'd wish to read."

"I should like to hear some of them," said Hand.

"You've heard of his great feat at Horseneck, I suppose," said Jonas Davenport.

"Yes," replied Hand, "and often wondered at it."

"I happened to be on the spot and see that affair," said old John Warner. "I was on a visit to a friend at a farm near Horseneck, when the news of Governor Tryon's approach, with a large force, reached me. I hadn't joined the regular army, for a great many reasons; but I always took advantage of an opportunity to serve the right side. General Putnam's picket of one hundred and fifty men, with two field-pieces, was the only force in that neighbourhood; but I knew Old Put. would have a shot at the enemy, no matter how few men he had with him. So I shouldered my firelock and went and offered my services. General Putnam planted his cannon on the high ground near the meeting-house, and awaited the approach of the enemy. Directly, we saw Tryon, with a great force of regulars, coming along the road. Our cannon blazed away at them and checked their advance for a short time. But pretty soon, we saw the dragoons and infantry preparing to make a charge, and Old Put. knew there wouldn't be much chance of our withstanding the shock. So he ordered us to retire into the swamp just back of our position, where we would be safe from dragoons, at least, and where we would have an even chance with the infantry. I expected to see the general follow us; but he turned his horse towards the stone steps that led down the rocks from the meeting-house. As we fell back I had time to observe him. When he reached the head of the steps, the horse stopped as if afraid of the attempt. But Old Putnam knew there was no time to lose, as the dragoons were nearly upon him. So he struck his spurs into the horse's sides, and they plunged down the steps together. I lost sight of the horse and rider just then; but saw the red-coat dragoons stop short at the head of the precipice, and fire their pistols after them. Not one among the red-coats dared to follow, and ten chances to one if they had attempted it, they would have broken their necks; for the precipice was so high and steep as to have one hundred steps cut in it. Before they could get round the brow of the height by the ordinary road, the General was far beyond their reach. Tryon didn't attempt to follow us into the swamp, but soon after commenced his retreat. We fell back to Stamford, where we met the General with some militia he had collected, and marched back in search of Tryon. The red-coats had completed their work and were out of our reach."

"That ride was but one of a whole life of such deeds," said Kinnison. "There never was a man who dared more than Putnam. In the old French War, he astonished the boldest savages and rangers by his feats, often throwing himself into the arms of death, as it were, and escaping without any serious hurt."

"It was a great pity," said Colson, "that Putnam was not a younger man when the revolutionary war broke out. He had spent his best years in fighting for the old country, against the French and Indians."

"Perhaps it was better as it was," said Davenport. "I think there were brave men enough in our army." It was clear that Davenport was disposed to argue the respective merits of the generals of the revolution. Hand thought argument might check the flow of good-feeling, and therefore suggested that they should have more drum and fife music. Brown and Hanson agreed, and upon request struck up the "White Cockade." This was spirit-stirring, and called forth much applause. Another song was called for, and one of the young men sang the following song, written for the occasion, but which his modesty had hitherto held back. The music was that of "Rule, Brittania!"

The song had very little poetry and less music in it; but patriotism applauded its spirit. Mr. Hand again directed the conversation in such a manner as to glean as much information from the veteran patriots as possible, and enquired if any of them had seen the hero of Bennington—General John Stark.

"Oh! yes," replied Timothy Ransom, "There was very few of the right-side-up men in Vermont, that I didn't see and know too. See General Stark! I guess I did; and seen a leetle of him at Bennington, too."

"I thought General Stark belonged to New Hampshire," said Hand.

"So he did," replied Ransom. "The country that now makes the states of Varmount and New Hampshire was then called the New Hampshire Grants, and was governed by one assembly and one council."

"What sort of a looking man was Stark?" enquired Pitts.

"Well, he weren't much to look at," said Ransom. "He was about the middle height, and strongly built. He had a firm look about the face, and you might have been sure of his doing what he said he would do, just from hearing him talk. Blunt and downright, he was—and didn't stop to pick words. He had seen a tougher life than any of his neighbours—fighting as a ranger and regular soldier—and you might suppose there was no nice affectation in his dress and manners like you find in some of our generals. He was a man made for service."

"That's the man exactly as I saw him at Saratoga," said Kinnison.

"Did you say you was with General Stark, at Bennington?" enquired Hand.

"Ay, and did my share of that day's work," replied Ransom. "That was a battle, my boys. If you had seen the way that the militia walked up to the enemy's cannon, and fought with regulars, you'd have said at once, there was no use of Great Britain trying to subdue such men."

"Not having had the pleasure of seeing it," replied Hand, "I should like to hear what you saw of it. Tell us about the affair, and how you won such a victory."

"You shall hear about the battle of Bennington," said Ransom. "At the time Burgoyne was advancing towards the Hudson, the people of Massachusetts and the New Hampshire Grants were alarmed, and feared that Burgoyne would march towards Boston. The whole frontier was uncovered. But the people began to feel the necessity of taking measures to check the advance of the enemy. General Stark was then at home, angry with Congress on account of his rank not being equal to his services. He had resigned his commission in the regular army. I was then at my farm, having gone home after serving with Colonel Allen. I expected to be called into service again, but didn't intend to fight under any other orders than those of John Stark; because I knew the man had been badly treated, and I and most of the militia felt for him. The New Hampshire Assembly met, and began to adopt measures for the defence of the country. The militia was formed into two brigades. General Whipple was appointed to command the first, and General Stark the second. Stark refused to accept the appointment. But finding that his name was a host, he was induced to yield his private griefs for the public good. He said he would assume the command of the troops, if he was not desired to join the main army, and was made accountable to no authority but that of New Hampshire. His conditions were accepted, and he went to Charlestown to meet the Committee of Safety. As soon as I heard that General Stark was in the field, I hurried off to Charlestown to join the militia, I knew would assemble there. I found the men were coming in from all directions, and all were in high spirits. Stark sent us off to Manchester, twenty miles from Bennington, to join Colonel Warner's regiment. You know after that skrimmage at Hubbardton, Warner could scarcely muster more than two hundred men, and we who were sent from Charlestown were to fill out his regiment. I found most of the men had been in service since the war began, and knew what fighting was; and I thought they were a match for twice their number; but I had some near neighbours in the regiment of Colonel Nichols at Bennington: I went and joined him. As our regiment was filling up, General Stark arrived at Manchester, where he met General Lincoln, who had come to conduct the militia across the Hudson to General Schuyler; but Stark told him that the men were called together to protect their homes in New Hampshire, and could not be taken out of that part of the country. I heard afterwards that General Lincoln informed Congress of the state of things in our neighbourhood, and that Congress censured General Stark; but he didn't care for that. He knew he was right in staying in New Hampshire, and that the men who censured him knew nothing about the state of things there. Well, we were called upon to meet the enemy sooner than we expected, for it appeared that Baum, with his Germans and Indians, was on his march towards Bennington. Soon after, I arrived at Manchester. About four hundred men had collected at Bennington, when General Stark arrived there, and more were coming in constantly. I guess it was on the 13th of August when we received information that some of Baum's Indians had been seen near Cambridge—that's about twelve miles from Bennington. Then there was a stir among the men, and all sorts of preparation for a desperate battle. We all knew that we were going to fight for our homes, and that made us eager to meet the enemy. All the men of Bennington who could bear arms joined us, and the old men and women and boys did all they could to get us information, and to supply our wants. General Stark sent Lieutenant-Colonel Gregg, with two hundred men, to check the enemy. In the course of the night we were informed that the Indians were supported by a large body of regulars, with a train of artillery; and that the whole force of the enemy were in full march for Bennington. General Stark immediately called out all the militia, and sent word to Colonel Warner to bring his regiment from Manchester. Before daylight on the morning of the 14th of August, General Stark had about eight hundred men under his command, including Colonel Gregg's detachment. We then moved forward to support Gregg. About four or five miles from Bennington, we met our detachment in full retreat, and the enemy within a mile of it. Stark ordered us to halt, and we were then drawn up in order of battle. Baum saw we were prepared to make fight, and halted, instead of coming up to the work like a man. A small party of our men were forced to abandon Van Shaick's mill, where they had been posted, but not before they had killed a few of the enemy. Stark found that the enemy were busy entrenching themselves, and he tried to draw them from their position by sending out small parties to skirmish; but it was of no use, they wouldn't come out and fight; so Stark fell back a mile, leaving a part of our regiment to skirmish. Now you know that's a kind of fighting in which the Green Mountain Boys were always first best. Before we fell back to the main body, we had killed and wounded more than thirty of the enemy, including two Indian chiefs, without losing a man."

"The battle should have been all skirmishes," said Kinnison. "You might have cut the enemy up piece-meal."

"We tried it next day," said Ransom. "It was rainy, and Stark thought it best not to attempt anything more than skirmishing. Our light parties appeared in the woods on every side of the enemy, and picked off the men so fast that the Indians became disheartened, and began to desert Baum. The rain, which prevented our troops from attacking the enemy, enabled them to complete their entrenchments, and send to General Burgoyne for reinforcements; but on the morning of the 16th of August, we found that General Stark and a council of war had agreed upon a plan of attack, and intended to execute it that day. I don't think there was a man among our troops who was not anxious for a fight. Our skirmishes had put us in the humour for it. I can't exactly give you an idea of the position of the enemy, and of the real amount of skill General Stark displayed in his plan of attack. But I'll try to do the best I can. The Germans were posted on a rising ground near a bend in Wallomsac Creek, which is a branch of the Hoosic River. The ground on both sides of the creek is rolling, and the position of the Germans was on the highest of the small hills. Peter's corps of Tories were entrenched on the other side of the creek, nearly in front of the German battery, and on lower ground. During the night of the 15th, Colonel Symonds with about one hundred Berkshire militia, arrived in camp. Parson Allen, who, you may have heard, was such a zealous whig, was with the Berkshire men, and he wanted to fight right off. But General Stark told him if the next day was clear, there would be fighting enough. Well, when the morning of the 16th of August came; it was clear and bright. Both armies seemed to know that day was to decide between them. General Stark had given his orders to all the colonels of his regiments. Colonel Nichols, with our corps of about two hundred men, marched up the little creek just above the bridge, to attack the rear of the enemy's left; while Colonel Herrick, with three hundred men, marched to attack the rear of the right, with orders to join our party before the assault was made. Colonels Hubbard and Stickney were ordered to march down the Wallomsac, with three hundred men, near the Tories, so as to turn Baum's attention to that point. We started about noon, and marched through the thick woods and up from the valley towards the enemy's entrenchments. Our march was rapid and silent, and the enemy didn't see us until we were near. We gave the first volley, and rushed upon them. I saw through the smoke, Colonel Herrick was coming up. We had the Indians between us, and you should have heard them yell, and whoop, and ring their cow-bells, but they wouldn't stand; they fled through our detachments and left the Hessians to shift for themselves. Soon after we commenced the attack, General Stark made that short address you have heard so much about. Josiah Wemyss, one of my old friends, was near the General when he spoke. He told me Stark raised himself in his stirrups, and said: 'See there, men! there are the red-coats; before night they are ours, or Molly Stark will he a widow! Forward!' and they did forward and rush upon the Tories with such force that they drove 'em across the stream, upon the Germans, who were then forced from their breastworks on the heights. Then the battle became general. Such a tremendous fire I never saw before, and never expect to see again. Colonel Baum and his dragoons fought like brave men, and for a long time could not be broken. We attacked them on one side, and Stark on the other, but they stood their ground, and when their powder gave out, Colonel Baum led them to the charge with the sword. But it couldn't last: our men were fighting like mad, and our firelocks brought down the enemy at a tremendous rate. Many of us had no bagonets—I among them, yet we marched up to the Germans just the same as if we had the best arms. At last, the Germans gave way and fled, leaving their artillery and baggage on the field. Our men didn't pursue. You see, General Stark, in order to give the men every inducement to do their best on the field, promised them all the plunder that could be taken from the enemy; and as the Germans fled, we all scattered to seize on what they had left. I had the good luck to get a sword and one of the heavy hats which the dragoons wore. I didn't care much about the value of the things in regard to the money they'd bring, but I thought they'd be somewhat to keep in the family, and make them remember that battle. While I was looking for more things, I caught sight of a man riding at a furious rate towards General Stark. He called out, 'Rally! rally! more Germans! rally!' and sure enough, we saw a large body of the enemy coming out of the woods, in good order. It was the reinforcement Baum had sent for. General Stark had collected a small body of men, when I hurried to join a few of our regiment that Colonel Nichols had rallied. I thought that our victory was about to be snatched from us; but just then Colonel Warner's regiment arrived from Manchester, fresh and well-armed. They attacked the Germans at once, while Stark, with about two hundred of us, pushed forward to aid them. Then began an obstinate struggle, not like the other fight with the Germans and Tories; but a running fight on the hills and plains, just the kind of skrimmage in which a hundred Green Mountain Boys were worth double their number of redcoats. About sunset, the greater part of our men were engaged, and the enemy was beaten in every part of the field. We drove them from the hills down towards Van Shaick's, killing, wounding, and taking prisoners all the time. At Van Shaick's mill they made their last stand. They had placed a small party of Tories in the building, and a party of Germans rallied in front of it. But it was no use, the Germans were driven away and the men in the house forced to surrender. Our men pursued the enemy to the Hoosick, and captured the greater part of 'em. I really believe, if night hadn't come on, we would have taken every man of 'em. But General Stark ordered the men to return, for fear they would fire upon each other in the gloom. Before I came back, however, I caught a Tory lurking near the edge of the woods. Now I hated Tories worse than the Britishers or Germans, and I had a strong notion to shoot him, and I told him so; but he begged hard for his life, and said he never intended to take up arms against his countrymen again: I took him back to our troops and put him with the other prisoners."

"What was the loss of the enemy that day?" enquired Pitts.

"I heard since, that it was nine hundred and thirty-four men, including killed, wounded, and prisoners," replied Ransom. "I recollect we buried two hundred and seven of them. Our own loss was one hundred killed, and about the same number wounded. Besides the prisoners, we took four pieces of brass cannon, more than two hundred and fifty swords, several hundred muskets, several brass drums, and four ammunition wagons. So you see, we had plenty of plunder."

"I suppose the men were not allowed to take any thing but the swords and muskets," said Kinnison.

"Yes, the baggage fell to us," said Ransom, "and all the fixins of the German camp; the cannon, drums, wagons and standards were not taken away."

"I guess that was one of the completest victories ever gained," said Kinnison. "Only to think of militia flogging regulars in that style. What could the enemy expect from our regulars?"

"There's as much credit due to General Stark for that victory, as was ever given to him or as we could give to a general," said Ransom. "If he had not taken command of the troops, there would have been very little resistance to Baum's advance. The plan of attack was formed with great skill, and the general went into the battle with the determination to win it or leave his body on the field. Such a man as John Stark would make soldiers out of cowards."

Mr. Hand here proposed three cheers for General Stark and his Green Mountain Boys, and they were given with a hearty will. One of the young men then announced that he had a song, which had been sung at an anniversary of the battle of Bennington, and which he would now sing, if the company wished it. Of course, the company did wish it, and the young gentleman sang the following words:—

Brown and Hanson had prepared their instruments during the singing, and immediately followed it with Washington's march, to which knives and forks kept time.

MR. BLEEKER AND HIS SON

"An incident occurred just after the battle of Bennington, which showed the spirit of the people of the neighbourhood," said Ransom, when the musicians had concluded. "Old Zedekiah Bleeker, who lived in Bennington, sent five bold sons to join our little army, just before the battle. One of them—Sam. Bleeker—was killed; and one of the old man's neighbours came to tell him about it—'Mr. Bleeker,' said the neighbour, 'your son has been unfortunate.' 'What!' said the old man, 'has he misbehaved? Did he desert his post or shrink from the charge?' 'Worse than that,' replied the neighbour; 'he was slain, but he was fighting nobly.' 'Then I am satisfied,' said the old man; 'bring him to me.' Sam's body was brought home. The old man wiped the blood from the wound, and while a tear stood in his eye, said it was the happiest day of his life, to know that he had five sons fighting for freedom and one slain for the same cause. There was a spirit of patriotism for you."

"I can tell you of an instance quite as good," said old John Warner. "Perhaps it is better; for in this instance, a woman displayed the like spirit. A good lady in 1775, lived on the sea-board, about a day's march from Boston, where the British army then was. By some unaccountable accident, a rumour was spread, in town and country, in and about there, that the Regulars were on a full march for the place, and would probably arrive in three hours at farthest. This was after the battle of Lexington, and all, as might be well supposed, was in sad confusion—some were boiling with rage and full of fight, some with fear and confusion, some hiding their treasures, and others flying for life. In this wild moment, when most people in some way or other, were frightened from their propriety, our heroine, who had two sons, one about nineteen years of age, and the other about sixteen, was seen preparing them to discharge their duty. The eldest she was able to equip in fine style—she took her husband's fowling-piece, 'made for duck or plover,' (the good man being absent on a coasting voyage to Virginia) and with it the powder-horn and shot-bag; but the lad thinking the duck and goose shot not quite the size to kill regulars, his mother took a chisel, cut up her pewter spoons, and hammered them into slugs, and put them into his bag, and he set off in great earnest, but thought he would call one moment and see the parson, who said, well done, my brave boy—God preserve you—and on he went in the way of his duty. The youngest was importunate for his equipments, but his mother could find nothing to arm him with but an old rusty sword; the boy seemed rather unwilling to risk himself with this alone, but lingered in the street, in a state of hesitation, when his mother thus upbraided him. 'You John Haines, what will your father say if he hears that a child of his is afraid to meet the British: go along; beg or borrow a gun, or you will find one, child—some coward, I dare say, will be running away, then take his gun and march forward, and if you come back and I hear you have not behaved like a man, I shall carry the blush of shame on my face to the grave.' She then shut the door, wiped the tear from her eye, and waited the issue; the boy joined the march. Such a woman could not have cowards for her sons."

"I heard of many such instances," said Kinnison; "such a spirit was common at the time, not only in New England, but throughout the States. Look at the noble conduct of some of the people of New Jersey, during Washington's retreat, and afterwards. The women did all they could to lessen the sufferings of the men, and many an old man wanted to join the army, knowing how much he would have to endure."

"The women were all right during the Revolution," said Pitts. "I can tell you of an instance in which a woman displayed both patriotism and wisdom, though it may be rather a long story."

"Oh! the longer the better," said Hand.

"Very well," said Pitts, "I'll tell you about it, as near as I can recollect. One night, while the British army was encamped on Long Island, a party of the redcoats, galled by the death of Major Andre, formed a plan to cross over to the Connecticut side and capture General Sullivan, who commanded some of the Americans stationed there, and hold him in revenge for Andre's death.

"It was a hazardous project, but four bold men pledged themselves to undertake it. John Hartwell, a brave young officer was selected as their leader.

"Soon as arranged they proceeded to a boat, and made the best progress they could across the river; on gaining the shore, they made for a small clump of underwood, where they lay concealed, until they noted what direction it was best to take.

"Here too may be seen the tents where repose the brave men who have sworn to protect their homes and country, or die in its defence against the invaders, who seek to control their free rights. Near may be seen a spacious farm house, the abode of General Sullivan—the brave soldier and faithful friend—who now slept, unconscious of danger. Through some neglect, the sentinels on duty had wandered from their posts, never dreaming it possible that any one would risk a landing, or could pass the tents unobserved. By a circuitous route they gained the house, and here the faithful watch-dog gave the alarm; a blow soon silenced him; and ascending the piazza, Captain Hartwell opened the casement, and followed by his men, stepped lightly into the sitting-room of the family.

"They now struck a light, and with caution proceeded on their search—they passed through several apartments, while, strange to relate, the inmates slept on, unconscious of this deed of darkness.

"They at length reached the General's room—two of the men remained outside, while Captain Hartwell, with another officer, entered, and stood in silence, musing on the scene before them.

"A night-lamp burnt in the room, dimly revealing the face of the sleepers—whose unprotected situation could not but awake a feeling of pity even in their callous hearts.

"'Jack,' whispered his companion, 'by heaven I wish this part of the business had been entrusted to some one else—I could meet this man face to face, life for life, in the field of battle—but this savors too much of cowardice.'

"'Hold your craven tongue, Low,' answered Captain Hartwell, 'perform your part of the play, or let some one else take your place—you forget the scrape we are in at the least alarm. We might happen to salute the rising sun from one of the tallest trees on the General's farm—an idea far from pleasing.'

"'For my part, I could wish myself back on Long Island—but our general expects every man to do his duty—let yours be to prevent that female from screaming, while I secure her husband.'

"The ear of woman is quick, and from their entering the room, not a word had escaped Mrs. Sullivan. At first she could scarce refrain from calling out, but her uncommon strength of mind enabled her to master her fear—she scarce knew what to think: her husband's life, herself and family, were at stake, and her courage rose in proportion as her sense of danger increased.

"She scarcely dared to breathe, and even the infant at her breast seemed to partake of its mother's anxiety, and nestled closer to her bosom.

"The curtains partly shaded where she lay, and breathing a prayer to Heaven for protection, she silently stepped from the bed, scarce knowing how to proceed.

"Her woman's tact led her to appeal to their sympathies, if sympathies they had—if she died, she but risked her life for one dearer than herself whose existence to his country was invaluable—and perhaps by this means enable him to escape. In an instant she was before them, her infant at their feet, her pale beseeching face imploring what speech refused to utter.

"The officers started—this sight was unexpected—the least hesitation, and all would be lost.

"Captain Hartwell threw aside his heavy watch-cloak and said—

"'Madam, let this uniform be the warrant for our honour—our object is to take your husband alive, if possible—that depends, however, on your silence.'

"At this moment General Sullivan awoke, and finding his wife in the hands of men whose calling he knew not, his good sword was soon in his hand, but a strong arm wrested it from him—handcuffs were placed on his wrists, and he stood their prisoner.

"He enquired by what right they entered his house! 'Our object, sir,' replied the officer, 'is to convey you to Long Island—the least expression of alarm from you, that moment you breathe your last—if peaceable, no violence will be offered.' Mrs. Sullivan threw herself before them, and entreaties for mercy gushed from her agonized heart. 'Oh! spare him—take what money is here, but leave me my husband, the father of my children. Think, if you have wives or families, what their sense of bereavement would be to see some murderous band tear you from their arms, and they left in horrid uncertainty as to your fate. Take all that we have, but leave him.' A sneer of scorn curled the officer's lip, as he coolly replied—

"'Madam, we are neither robbers nor assassins—the compliment on our part is quite undeserved. We are British officers.'

"'Then, sir,' exclaimed Mrs. Sullivan starting to her feet—her eyes flashing, her proud form trembling, as her own wrongs were forgot in those of her country—'Shame on the cause that sanctions such a deed as this—in the silence of night to enter a peaceful dwelling and take an unoffending man from the arms of his wife and family—Truly, such an act as this would well need the covering of darkness. You may call yourselves servants of Britain—that is your fit appellation. Take him—another victim is required for my country. But the vengeance of Heaven is abroad, and, ere long, the men who war for the price of blood, will find the arm of him who fights for his fireside and liberty, nerved by a stronger consciousness of right.'

"'Madam,' interrupted the officer, awed by the stern majesty of her manner, 'I came not here to interchange words with a woman, or, I might speak about warring against our lawful king.—But you know, Tom,' turning to his companion, 'I never was good at preaching.' 'Not to a woman, certainly,' said Tom, laughing, 'or rather you could never bring one to your way of thinking.'

"A slight noise warned them of the impropriety of their longer remaining. The General having completed dressing, took an affectionate farewell of his wife, assuring her he would soon be enabled to return. They left the house—but to gain the shore was a matter of some difficulty. The general was rendered incapable of making the slightest noise if he had wished to, and they had tied Mrs. Sullivan, and bound her mouth to prevent her giving any alarm. But the tents were not so easily passed. The morning was fast approaching, and the route they came would occupy too much time to retrace it—their only plan now was to make as straight a line as possible to the shore. Already had they passed one tent, when the cry 'who goes there' was heard. In a moment they gained the shadow of an adjoining tent, when a man suddenly stept before them and demanded their business. No time could be lost—the two officers proceeded on to the boat with the general, while the remainder overpowered the sentinel and joined their companions as the dawn was faintly perceptible in the east. By the time an alarm was given, they were far beyond the reach of pursuit.

"Their prisoner was borne triumph to their commander, who intended waiting superior orders as to the disposal of him.

"In the meanwhile, Mrs. Sullivan was not idle. A council was called, and every plan was proposed that could tend to liberate her husband.

"The womanly wit of Mrs. Sullivan suggested that they should cross the river in the same manner as the British had done, and seize the person of one of their influential men, and hold him as an hostage until terms could be agreed upon for the exchange of prisoners. It was a risk, and if discovered, no mercy could be expected.

"The nephew of the general, a young officer of merit, and several others, volunteered their services. The following night was arranged for the purpose.

"The difficulty, when the time arrived, was to procure some mode of getting over. A whale-boat was at length found, into which the adventurers got, disguised as fishermen. They soon arrived at Long Island and proceeded to the residence of Judge Jones.

"With some difficulty they secured that worthy functionary, and notwithstanding his assurance as to being a good patriot, which they assured him they did not in the least question, conveyed the good man to the boat, in spite of his wish to finish his sleep out, and embarked pleased with their success. On reaching the house of Mrs. Sullivan they introduced their prisoner. Mrs. Sullivan courteously apologized for the necessity they had been under for requesting his society without due time for preparation; a suring him that the house and all in it were at his service while he honoured it as his abode.

"The Judge was taken quite at a loss. At any time he was a man of a few words, but the sudden transition had quite bewildered his faculties. At times he doubted whether the good old cogniac, of which he had taken a plentiful supply before retiring to rest, had not turned his head.

"He stood in the centre of the apartment gazing listlessly around him, until the voice of Mrs. Sullivan, politely inquiring if her guest stood in need of any refreshment, recalled his fleeting thoughts. The tempting repast set before him did wonders in restoring his good humor, his sail having given him quite an appetite, and at any time a lover of the good things of life, and knowing arguments could produce no alteration in his fate, he submitted with as much good grace as possible, a little alleviated by the reflection that a woman's care was not the worst he could have fallen into. By a singular coincidence, Mrs. Sullivan learnt that her husband was an inmate in the house of the Judge, an assurance in every way relieving, having been placed in his charge until conveyed from Flatbush.

"Letters were soon interchanged, the Americans refusing to yield their prisoner without the British doing the same. Terms were accordingly entered into, and the Judge prepared to take leave of his fair hostess at the same time her husband was taking leave of the Judge's wife.—The Judge had been highly pleased with the manners of Mrs. Sullivan, who did every thing in her power to make his stay agreeable.

"The two boats with their respective prisoners at length set sail, and meeting on the river, they had an opportunity of congratulating each other on the happy termination of their imprisonment, which, thanks to woman's wit, so fertile in expedients, had saved them from what might have been a tragedy. With assurances of friendship they parted, the wives soon having the pleasure of embracing their husbands. Subsequently letters couched in terms of the warmest gratitude were exchanged between the two ladies, for the attention paid to their respective husbands."

"That Mrs. Sullivan was a remarkable woman," remarked Colson. "But so were most of the women of our side at that time; and the fact is, such a cause as ours would have made heroes and heroines out of the weakest. Besides, what won't a woman do to save her husband, at all times?"

"A good stratagem—that of Mrs. Sullivan's," said Hand.

"Equal to some of Washington's generalship," remarked Kinnison. Each one of the party had some remark to make upon the courage and resource of Mrs. Sullivan, except Brown, the fifer, who was enjoying the dreams of Morpheus, and therefore deaf to the narrative.

"I heard of an instance in which a woman was still more heroic than Mrs. Sullivan," said Ransom, "Because, in this case, the lady suffered for maintaining the cause of her country.

"When New York and Rhode Island were quietly possessed by the British armies, and the Jerseys, overrun by their victorious generals, opposed but a feeble resistance to their overwhelming power, Lord Cornwallis, commanding a large division of their troops, stationed at Bordentown, addressing Mrs. Borden, who resided on her estate in a mansion of superior elegance, demanded in an authoritative tone, 'Where, Madam, is your rebel husband—where your rebel son?' 'Doing their duty to their country, under the orders of General Washington,' was the prompt reply. 'We are well apprized,' rejoined that officer, of 'the influence you possess over the political creed of your family, and that to them your opinion is law. Be wise, then, in time, and while mercy is tendered to you, fail not to accept it. Bid them quit the standard of rebellion, and cordially unite with us, in bringing his Majesty's deluded subjects to submission, and a proper sense of their errors and ingratitude, to the best of kings. Your property will then be protected, and remain without injury in your possession. But, should you hesitate to profit by our clemency, the wasting of your estate and destruction of your mansion will inevitably follow.' 'Begin, then, the havoc which you threaten,' replied the heroic lady: 'the sight of my house in flames, would be to me a treat, for, I have seen enough of you to know, that you never injure, what it is possible for you to keep and enjoy. The application of a torch to it I should regard as a signal for your departure, and consider the retreat of the spoiler an ample compensation for the loss of my property.'

"This was one of those threats which the British never failed to carry into execution. The house was burnt, and the whole property consigned to waste and desolation. But, as had been foreseen, the perpetrator of the ruthless deed retreated, to return no more."

"Just like Cornwallis and his red-coats," said Kinnison, "burning people's houses and wasting their lands was a way of making converts, which they discovered and practised with a vengeance. Mrs. Borden was a strong-minded woman to have endured all this."

"Yes," said Warner, "Mrs. Borden was a heroine as wouldn't have disgraced the Romans. But what would you think of a mere girl, whose family was opposed to our cause, exerting herself to procure the freedom of one of our officers, who had been taken by the British?"

"I should say it's what young girls in love have done many a time," said Kinnison.

"Not under such circumstances," said Warner. "But I'll tell you about it as it was told to me. Captain Plunkett was a bold-spirited Irishman, who held a commission in our army. In some way or other—it may have been at the battle of Brandywine—Plunkett was taken by the enemy, and soon after placed in a prison in Philadelphia. Previous to that, he had made many friends among the Quakers of that city—and, indeed, his manners made him a general favourite, wherever he went. Plunkett suffered much in prison, and his friends pitied him; but dared not attempt his release. However, there was a young girl of great beauty and strength of mind, who resolved to release the suffering soldier, at all hazards. It accidentally happened, that the uniform of Captain Plunkett's regiment bore a striking resemblance to that of a British corps, which was frequently set as a guard over the prison in which he was confined. A new suit of regimentals was in consequence procured and conveyed, without suspicion of sinister design, to the Captain. On the judicious use of these rested the hopes of the fair Friend to give him freedom. It frequently happened that officers of inferior grade, while their superiors affected to shun all intercourse with the rebels, would enter the apartments of the prisoners, and converse with them with kindness and familiarity, and then at their pleasure retire. Two sentinels constantly walked the rounds without, and the practice of seeing their officers walking in and out of the interior prison, became so familiar, as scarcely to attract notice, and constantly caused them to give way without hesitation, as often as an officer showed a disposition to retire. Captain Plunkett took the advantage of this circumstance, and putting on his new coat, at the moment that the relief of the guard was taking place, sallied forth, twirling a switch carelessly about and ordering the exterior door of the prison to be opened, walked without opposition into the street. Repairing without delay to the habitation of his fair friend, he was received with kindness, and for some days secreted and cherished with every manifestation of affectionate regard. To elude the vigilance of the British Guards, if he attempted to pass into the country, in his present dress was deemed impossible. Woman's wit, however, is never at a loss for contrivances, while swayed by the influences of love or benevolence. Both, in this instance, may have aided invention. Plunkett had three strong claims in his favour: he was a handsome man—a soldier—and an Irishman. The general propensity of the Quakers, in favor of the Royal cause, exempted the sect in a great measure from suspicion, in so great a degree indeed, that the barriers of the city were generally entrusted to the care of their members, as the best judges of the characters of those persons who might be allowed to pass them, without injury to the British interests. A female Friend, of low origin, officiating as a servant in a farm near the city, was in the family, on a visit to a relative. A pretext was formed to present her with a new suit of clothes, in order to possess that which she wore when she entered the city. Captain Plunkett was immediately disguised as a woman, and appeared at the barrier accompanied by his anxious deliverer. 'Friend Roberts,' said the enterprising girl, 'may this damsel and myself pass to visit a friend at a neighbouring farm?' 'Certainly,' said Roberts, 'go forward.' The city was speedily left behind, and Captain Plunkett found himself safe under the protection of Colonel Allen M'Lean, a particular friend of his. Whether Captain Plunkett ever married the young girl who had rendered him such service, I cannot say; but you may fancy he did, and it will make a pretty story."

"Well, now we have had enough of the women," said Kinnison.

"Yes," said Hand, "and now we must have something more of the men of the Revolution. Come, which of you will tell something about George Washington—the Father of his Country?"

"I can tell you of an important incident in the career of Washington, which was told to me by a man who witnessed a part of it, and heard the rest," said Colson.

"Then strike up, old boy," said Kinnison, familiarly.