Copyrighted, 1889, by BIADLI AND ADAMS. Entered at. the Post Omce at. New York, N. Y” as Second Class Mail Matter. Oct, 26. 1869.

 

. b ' k (1 Ad ‘ .
No. 289.  P“ “511,3: mmgfieggis :3“ W,  VOLXXIII.

 

 

 

 

 

MOLLY GLANCED AT THE PAPER AND GAVE A STIFLED CRY.

 

 

2 ‘ Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

Molly, the Girl Captain;

’

THE DUTCH PEDDLER.

BY MRS. MARY A. DEN (SON.

CHAPTER I.
THE HESSIAN COMMANDER.

“WELL, We have driven them this time,
general i” cried a red—faced colonel, enterinz the
tent of the Hessian commander, Colonel Rah],
general by brevet.

“Yes, so I should think," replied the general,
gloomily.

“ You— on are not wounded, general?”

"Woum edl ten thousand furies, what do you
mean?” indignuntly demanded General Rahl.

“Pardon me, general. I really thought you
looked pale~pardon me."

“ You can retire,” said his superior, and as
the ounger mm left the tent, placing a com-
mon cation, which the colonel had required,
upon the table, the latter threw down two Lite
ters, thsn sunk angrily into a. seat.

“Audacious little rebel!” he muttered, his
face growing blacker as he thought, “ to write
me a note like that.”

“Meanwhile, the olfendiu paper, pure and
white, touched only by the cheats pen that a.

social hand he wielded luy half-folded as

a had thrown it down. be other letter or
note which accompanied it was written with
bglder characters and blacker ink. It run
t us:

“Dam Gunman—May I have the pleasure of see-
ing you at Walsingham House on the 26th? We
have all been rejoicing over the late news—thank

and the king! You have done nobly. and we
propose, in a small wav, to celebrate the victory.
“ LADY Jomsa VVALSINGEIAM."

“ Who’s L'idy Walsingham?" the general hail
mattered. to himself, as he threw down this
second missiVe. “Oh,I have it; she must be
the aunt of Lieutenant George, in the King’s
Guard-i. It won’t do to slight her invitation;
andeget, upon my word, I feel as much disin-
clin to pleaSure-takinfiras it I were going to

my father’s funeral. ell, who wants me

new?”

“Corporal Dave has come to see if we shall
take the old meeting-house for a ho‘hpital?" said
the guard, saluting.

“ Take an thing that will answer the purpose.
and don’t ther me; that‘s not my business,”
was the sharp reply.

Inst then his servant came in to set the table.
and General Rah], lifting his letters, deposited

. them, one in his right hand vest-pocket, the
other in his left, and sauntered out.

It was now somewhere about six. and the
camp-fires were bezinning to he lighted. A

,great many of the officers and soldiers had pos-
sessed themselves of quarters in Trenton, and
across the little stream, “Assunpinch ‘Creek,”’
as the people called it, in the south part of the
town. The inhabitants thus suddenly found

 

their , houses encroached upon by the Hessians,
and of course could do nothing but submit.
But General Rahl preferred his tent,‘and so did
many of the commanders, for, at this time,
there was a large force quartered in Trenton——
larger than it would have been possible to ac-
commodate.

As the general moved out alone, and walked
down the regularly laid street between the rows

of tents, the sunlight was fading from the west. ,

The day’s work had not as yet Occupied his.

mind. It was only a skirmish of the advance,

and by no means a heavy or serious battle. A
few scores-only on both sides had been killed
and wounded, and the Hessians won the victory
because of superior numbers.

Misunderstandlngs at such times will occur,
and one had happened on this day. The regular
forces of Washington’s army were expected,
and through some signals, not intended to de—
ceive, the small body of American soldiers had
begun the work. It was, however, a. short
fight. Washington’s main force did not some,
nor was it in any neur Vicinity. The Hessmns
magnified their victory. Many of them were
fresh—among them General Rahl’s division.

The general was a man of imposing stature,
fully six feet tnll, and proplortionately stately.
His passions were fierce. e loved with ardnr
—he hated with zeal. He despised the Ameri-
cans as a people, and often spoke of them with
contem t—-both 11' on and women—at least, until
he met lsie Vernon.

A strangely consuming passion had this Ameri-
can beauty awakened in General Rah].

He became more and more enamored, until he
dared to address her by letter, and on the eve of
this skirmish he had received by the hands of
her black servant, a characteristic note, in
which she boldly and yet delicately amerted her
opinions, and concluded by requesting that the
ac uaintunce be dropped.

n a very gloomy mood, then, the general
walked through the lines of tents until he came
to an Open spot of ground, picturesque m knolls
and tufts of frozen gross. and beautifully dis-
posed chestnnt trees, whose bare branches were
strongly defined against the red of the evening

sky.

 

CHAPTER II.
THE PRESENCE OF RANK. _

As he paused here, an officer was seen coming
from an o posite direction. Exchanging salu-
tations wit) his superior in command, Colonel
Dauphney stopped for a moment to throw a
glance around. . . ” _

“I’ve been on a tour of inspection, he saidt
hastily, “ to the little old church over there.
find the wounsz pretty serious, more so among
the rebels than our own men“ Did you hear,
general, that Colonel Wasp has In his charge an
important prisoner, a lieutenant-colonel, I think,
of the American Army?“ _

“ It is very strange—no," said the general.

“ In the confusion, and Colonel \Vnsp himself
havimz received a somewhat troublesome wound,
T presume they have neglected to inform you.
I judge. however, that yonder is the prisoner,
and they are conveying him to your tent.”

The general raised his eyebrows, as he saw in

 

i
5.

en
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Molly, the Girl Captain. 

 

 

the distance a guard, in the middle of which
walked a tall, finely-proportioned, soldicrly man,
in the American uniform.

“ He can wait,” he said, in an undertone—then
cast his glances about him.

“ That’s a. fine residence ;” and he pointed in
the direction of a dwelling upon which the set-
ting sun threw a splendor quite unequaled for
beauty by anything he had ever seen in his own
country. “ It must be acknowledged," he said,
“ the cllmate is purer, the air clearer, in Amor-
ica, honco objects in their coloring are more
vivid. thcse house did you say?”

“ That? Oh! L'nly “'alsingham’s fine place——
the finest and most like home I have yet seen in
this country,” said the colonel. “ Lady Vfals—
ingham is a widow, I believe: very dashing and
handsome—at all events, very showy. She’s rich
as Grooms, they say, and decidedly ‘ one of us.7
There’s a great entertainment at her house, to—
morrow night week—let me see—that’s the 26th.
Of course you go?"

“Not at all sure of it,” responded the general.

“We count upon having a great time. The
widow does things in style, lbey‘tcll me. In
this barbarous country, one needs to see sonic-
thing of civilization sometimes, or one would re-
lapse into barbarian. I shall go, if it were only
for the purposo of catching one glance at her
niece. You must have heard of her—an extra—
ordinary young girl, brought up in seclusion
and the utmost rigor of convoutionality, and
yet she has espoused tho abominable cause of
the Colonists. There have been whisperin s of
a, rebel lover, too. But, upon my word, Iiss
Elsie Vernon is the most remarkably superb
)‘oungnlad y I ever saw in my life—a crystalliza-
tion~

“ Miss Vernon her niece!” exclaimed General
Rah], halting, for the two gentlemen had been
walking a short distance together, and his face
had changed white with sudden emotion.

“I hear it is 50;" said the colonel, who knew

nothing of the general’s infatuation, but was
impressed by his manner. “ Lady Walsiugbam
herself is, or has been, a remarkably beautiful
woman, I have heard; so I suppose her niece is
a younger and more superb edition. Have you
seen her?" '
A "' Yes, I have met her once or twice," replied
the genera] recovering his composure. “ She is
very woll—looking—very well-looking, indeed;
rather superior to mOStof these American young
women. But is she like—ah! You told me she
was intensely a rebel at heart, I'think.”

“ So says rumor,” replied the colonel.

“ Pity, pity,” muttered the general, “ so very
bountiful a girl. Has she been long in this
country, I wonder?"

“Long? Why, general, she was born here.
Herfathcr was the governor’s secretary some
years before he died, and a very fine gentleman
1e was, as far as I can hear.”

“ It strikes me I have heard of this Lady
Walsingham—I think you called her—abroad.”

“It. may be so; I have heard very little about
her myself till to—day. I shall at all events at-
tend her partv."

“So shall I,” said the general, grimly, to him—
self; but, bidding the colonel good-evening, he
hurried to his quarters.

 

Supper dispatched, he was informed that the
one prisoner of importance who had been cap-
tured. was in a guard-tent, awaiting his
pleasure.

“ Let him be brought in.” said the general.

In a few moments the officer stood before the
Hessian commander, fully his cqual in all re-
spects save that of rank.

Licutenan t-Colonel Washburn was very nearly
as tall as General Rah], and even more grace—
fully proportioned. The general was broad of
shoulder and somewhat protuberant- of stomach.
The linutenauocolonel was of a fine. breadth, also,
but more delicately waisted. His eye, larger
and darker than that of the man before him,
never guailcd as its penetrating glances fell
upon his captor. lu features, he was not as mas-
sive as tho foreigner, and his full, curly, glossy
beard gave to his face an additional beauty.

The two men stood for a moment surveying
each other.

“ So you have been taken in arms against
your lawful sovereign," said the general,
sternly.

“ I consider that I have been taken prisoner
by the chances of war, while lawfully fighting
for my country, gem-ml,” was the reply.

“ Your country," said the other, with 3. our]-
ing lip' “rubbish!” _

The ark eyes of the American glcamed with
the fire that shot from his heart at that speech.

“If I were not a. prisoner, general, no man
should say that to me and livel” he exclaimed,
hotly. ‘

“ But you are a prisoner.”

The young man hung his head. Almost for
tho first time he seemed to realize his true posi—
tion, and his cheeks glowed.

“ You are a prisoner, and I am one who
tolerates no importinence from the enemies of
my king.”

The lieutenant—colonel said not another word;
and presently the general ordered him to his
tent. .

 

CHAPTER III.
MOLLY PUTNAM.
IN a neat little antercom, leading out of the
handsome boudoir of Lady Walsingham, sat a

oung girl, her hands folded listlessly upon her
ap, her eyes humid and red, as if she had shed
secret tears. .

She was not beautiful, this Molly Putnam,
but a right cheery, pink-blossom—cheeked dam-
sel, a farmer’s bonny daughter. She seemed
very deep in thought as she sat there, for her
glances looked far beyond the range of objects
that bounded her visionr -

“ It was mean, that’s just what it was, to
take advantage of such a handful I” cried Molly
to herself, shaking with suppressed rage; ” but
that’s just like those great, hulking red-coats.
And now who knows but poor Paul has there in
the hos ital? It chills me to the heart to think
of it. e’s not (lead, for Joe managed to see all ’
of them, poor follow! Dear, dear. how shall I
contrive to find out for myself '1' I have it!” she
cried a moment after, brightening. “I’ll pre-
tend to come round to their side. Ali’s fair in
love or war—and I must find out if Harry is
there, or I shall fret myself to death.”

 

 

 

4 Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

At that moment a silvery sound tinkled near.
Molly sprung to her feet and passed out lightly
into the next room. Everything there bespoke
the utmost elegance of taste and a lavish ex-
penditure. In an immense easy-chair, quaintly
covered, sat the mistress of all these splendors,
her luxuriant hair falling spray-like over her
shoulders, and adhering to the velvet covering
of the chair.

“ Molly, I’m somewhat late, child; I was so
, much interested listening to the news, that my

dressing-hour went by undooded. Glorious

news, Molly, for us!”

“ So I should think, indeed," said Molly
cheerily.

“ Should you, child?" and Lady Walsingham,
turning round with rather more than her usual
vivacity, fixed her bright eyes on Molly’s face.
The girl did not quail, she even smiled cheer-
fully, bravely, while her heart was aching, and
the lady fell back in her chair quitc elated.

“I thought we should have you, my dear,”
she said gently. “ The fact is, I shall feel easier
in my mind if you really have got to looking at
thing: as you s ould. To tell the truth, I should
have felt some little annoyance at having such
a stench little rebel about my person, much as
I respect your lgood father, who is loyal to the
heat t’s core. knew it would not take long to
bring you to vour’senses.”

Pretty Molly smiled.

‘ Lad y Walsmgham was a handsome woman,

though nearer forty than thirty. Still she had
little need to heighten her charms by art. Her

1 eyes were large, black, and almond~shaped, but
a most too brilliant to be beautiful. To features
of extreme delicacy, nature had added a com-
plexion of unusual richness, showinz that
creamy, almost transparent tint, so rarely seen
in connection with a dark skin.

Molly was partly lady’s maid, partly com-

' panion. The daughter of one the neighboring
farmers who wished to serve the king‘s cause,
she was too well educated to work in a. menial
capacit , but her father cousouted that she
should ll the place she did. Lady Walsingham
was not hard to please, and the brilliant little
countr girl was so pretty and witty that she
was al owed almost the privileges of an equal.

“ Do be quick, Molly, there’s a darling. I
know I shall have cullers~1 feel it in my bones.

' There! A knock, as sure as I’m a sinner—or at
least three of them; and-obi finished have you?

Well, you are a blessing I”

A servant entered with n card on a small

’ silver waiter. Molly took the card, as the lady’s
hands were engaged just then, and her mistress
read it over her shoulder.

“General Rah]? Why that’s delightful! I
certainly never expected him.

“ If you could but do me one little favor,”
Moll said, leadinzly, as she left the room.

“ , ell, w atl Speak quick, Molly.”

I , “Only to ask the great general if I might be
allowed to see the hospitul. I never looked upon

, such a sight in my life. You know Icould carry
some refreshments for—our men.”

“ And why not for any of them?” spoke up
lady Walslugham. “ I’m sure, although I hate
theenemies of my king, I‘d do my best for them

 

if I saw them wounded. Yes, Molly, I am al~
most sure of his acquiescence. Come along.”

General Rah] arose as Lady Walsingham sailed
into the parlor. He was really astonished at her
beauty. Molly Putnam stole quietly into her
usual seat, and occupied herself with her book
and her knitting, alternately. Lady ~Walsing-
ham, whose manners had never been distin-
guished by any peculiar reticence, at once glided
into easy conversation, and the general thought
that if he had not seen the niece, he mi ht have
been fascinated by the more mature c arms of
the buxom, beautiful widow before him.

“ Allow me to congratulate on, general, on
your victory," she said, after a ew preliminary
remarks.

“ Thank you, though really it was a small
affair.” was the reply. “A little party of vol-
unteers engaged a mere corporal’a guard of my
regulars, and the poor fellows got worsted."

“ Was it nothing more than a skirmish?”

“ Not much more, I assure you. There are
less than a hundred wounded in our hospital.

“ Poor souls!” said L-idy Walsingham, her
thoughts reverting to the wounded men. "Do
you allow any visitors, general?“

“ There have been some permits given, I be-
lieve, to some of the ladies of Trenton, but not
many. My staff surgeon is one of the most par-
ticular men in the world, and in matters over
which he has any jurisdiction, I assure you I am
willing he should take the Whole res onsibility.
He’s an excellent man, but an old ctty of a
doctor, as I frequently tell him. Still, if you
have any desire to see the hospital, I could easin
manage it for on."

“ I have a. litt e friend, said Lady Washinghain,
with great delicacy, “ my companion, over there
—MollV. You heard what the general said?”

Molly’s cheeks were covered with blushes.
She arose, after the manner of those primitive
times. and gave a demure little courtesy.

“ She has a great desire to scan hospital,” said
Lady Walsmghem, after she had sent Molly out
on some pretense, “ and I have a cupboard
stocked with jellies, which I should be glad to
dispense—so you will he doing; a double favor.”

“I shall be very happy,’ sad the general,
bowing low. “ The little girl has, no doubt, a
lover. about whom she is anxious.”

“ Ohl no—-—indeed, noz” replied Lady Walsing-
hum, quickly. “I am very sure from what I
know of her father’s character, that would never
be allowed. ideiz, though yesherday she was
a provoking li e rebel, today she shows signs

of common sense, and really—h means of my ‘

poor teaching, I hope, begins to tray some in-
tercst in our cause.”

“ I wish, Lady Walsingham, your peculiar
means of conversion could be used in one or two
cases of which I bnve heard. We have some
bitter opponents in the youth and beauty of
Trenton.” ‘

“Indeed, you say truly, general,” said Lady
Walsiqgham, her 0 eeks taking a deeper tinge.
“ I myself have a niece with whom it is next to
impossible in live, so bitter and uncompromising

a patriot is she. You may not have met her——

Miss Elsie Vernon.”
“ I am happy to say that I have been honored
with some slight tokens of her friendship,” said

  

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Molly. the Girl Captain} 5

 

the general, looking down—and no one would
have noticed the pain in his voice. “ As you
say2 I should judge her to be unrelenting in her
anti athy to the cause of the king.”

“ ndeed, she is. She and I have had some
hot disputes, though I am usually one of the
too forbearing kind. But, really, Elsie is in-
tolerable. I charged her once with having
a rebel lover," added Lady Walsingham, laugh-
ing y.

“ And what did she say?" queried the general,
with suppreSSed eagerness.

“ Oh! she turned it off, as such a very haughty
creature might, for, general, she is intensely

roud.”

“She is very beautiful,” remarked the gen-
eral, an appearance of relief in his fine fea-

ures.

“ She is, indeed, general," said Lady Walsing—
ham heartily.

“éhe does not reside with you, then?“

“ Bless me! no,” returned the lady; “ we
couldn't assimilate any easier than oil and
water. She is at present with her father’s bro-
ther, a lawyer. She speaks and acts like an in-
spired creature, and declares that she would
lead an army herself if she might but be ac—
cepted. The people, here, worship her, and I
really think she would make a very creditable
Joan of Arc, if she had the opportunity.”

“ I honor your niece’s adherence to what she
considers her convictions of duty.”

“ And shall my little Molly have a pass?”

“ It will afford me the greatest pleasure, Lad
Walsingham. I will send it by one of my aids. ’

The general had scarcely one when letters
came. One of these Lady alsingham opened
as soon as she re-entered her room.

“ Mercy, Mollyl come here.”

Molly came.

“ That willful girl refuses my overtures.”

“ Indeed, my lady!”

“ Molly. you must go there—you must, child,
and use all your powers of persuasion. Picture
me entirely helpless without her. I’ll excuse
her willingly on the night of the party. but,
she surely must hel me with her taste and her
fingers. I’m certa n I shall never forgive her if
she don’tl”

“I’ll do anything of the kind you wish,” said
Molly. “ Couldn’t I go there and to the hospital,
all under one?"

“ No, my dear' the pass may not come in
time. It is best that you set 08 at once for my
niece. You will find her—but, you know very

.well where she is stopping.”

“ At, Lawyer William Asbury’s in the red
ouse.

“ That’s the place. Now, hurry, there’s a dar-

ling."

 

CHAPTER IV.
was sun or LAW.

THE red house par excellence, was rather an
imposing feature at that time. It occupied a
conspicuous position. and was ap roached by
several terraces, each reached by a ong flight of
steps.

Lawyer Asbury, as he was called, was one of
the wealthiest men in Trenton. His practice
was large, and he had married a fortune—a

 

weak but beautiful woman. He was a tall man
——~quite handsome and dignified, and a violent
Tory—so violent that he was often sneered at by
his partisans for not taking command of a com-
pany himself.

The whole town was astir with the noise and
news of the skirmish. which was magnified into
a battle. General Washin ton was reported
captured and a rent part 0 his army killed by
the Hessians. 11 the lawyer’s family were joy-
ful, over the event on the morning alter the at-
tack—all but one beautiful girl, whose large,
garkheyes were tearless, and her cheeks white as

eat .

The man of law came in, jubilantly, as the
family were about seating themselves at break-

ast.

“Great doings l” he cried. “ though not so
glorious as we anticipated. It was only a skin-
mish. The ragged vermin expected reinforce-
ments, but they never came; and they were
easily dispatched, horse and dragoons. It was
only a barelegged platoon, any way,” he added,
laughing.

Elsie glanced up at once. The anger in her
eye was at a white heat, and he knew it.

“Remember, Uncle Asbury, those men you
speak of are my countrymen,” she said, se-
verely. .

“ ith all due deference,” he answered, with
a sarcastic how, “ Miss Vernon may claim them
as her relatives, if she pleases.”

“ I had rather they were than some who are,”
she answered, with spirit.

“ Thank you, Miss Vernon, for the com li—
mental” he returned, with blazing eyes. “ ow
you, will, perhaps, condesceud to breakfast with
us.

“ Uncle Asbury, I will never taste food or
drink in this house again, till the enemies of my
country are driven out of Trenton.”

She stood before them all, unwavering—mar
beautiful eyes soft and steady in their glances
as tliey encountered the frowning eyes of her
nnc e. “

“ Then, my dear, your rash resolve will ex-
clude you forever, I am very much afraid. You
had better think again before you leave us. *
Your brother-imlaw has closed his doors against
you, because—”

“ It is untrue, sir,” cried Elsie, her eyes blaz-’
ing at the charge. “ I left him because I con-
siderel him a traitor to his country—in fine, for
the same reason that I leave you. I am inde-
pendent, thauk God, and do not need to cringe
for favor to any one whose princi les I despise.”

“ Impertinencel” lisped Mrs. As ury, who had '
just all this time pulling her straw-colored ring-

eta.

“ I am only too sor _v that I ever condescend-
ed to accept the hospitality of this house. And
now, uncle, I rophesy,” she continued, turnin
her beautiful ace, white and gleaming, tow
him, " that before the month is through, your
detestable Hessians will be routed and scattered
to the four winds by the army of George Wash- ,
in n.

h aving said these words, the brave girl left
t

8 room.
“ I’ll not tell her the rest,” said the lawyer;
“ she may find it out as she can."

 

 

» frightened

 

6 Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

“ Why, what is it?” queried his wife.

“ They have captured something more than a
tatterdemalion rebel—no otherthan Lieutenant-
Colonel Washburn, He is at present a prisoner,
and will, perhaps, turn out a spy. If so, there’s
the hangman‘s rope for him." ,

Elsie stood just within the door. She had
heard the last of this cruel speech, and at once
comprehended the whole. She could scarcely
have turned paler than she did; {or one moment
her strength seemed to fail her, and she caught
at the door. It would not do, however, to let
the family behold her emotion; so, resolutely
suppressing every trace of suffering, she ap-
peared before them, merely to bid them adieu.

“ I shall stop for the present with the Widow

Green. If 1 am in uired for you will be good

enou h to remember ”

“ ith all the pleasure in the world,” said the
lawyer. “ If any of your barefooted rapscal-
lions among the butchers and shoemakers of
Trenton should call upon your ladyship, I will
send them to the Widow Green, seamstress and
laundress par excellence—American headquar-
ters. I have the honor to wish you a very good‘
morning.”

To this insulting speech Elsie replied nothing,

but turned away abruptly and left the house.

 

CHAPTER V.
'1' H E P n D D L E R .

MOLLY trudged along, delighted with the
thought that she should soon meet one with
whom she could converse without reserve. The
day was fine, clear and cold. She had nearly
reached the little bridge that separated the
town when a party of Hessian soldiers came
along. They had [been drinking, and were very
merry, singing German songs.

Moll looked about her in alarm. There was
a smal house not far off, where, in better times,
beer and cakes had been sold, but now it seemed
quite deserted.

Suddenly, however, the door of the seemingly
deserted house was opened, and a little old
man, somewhat bent, came out with a small
pack on his back. Molly was scarcely breath-
iufi‘now, between her terror and suspense

he peddler, if that was his calling, walked
straight on toward the Hessians, not appearing
to notice the trembling girl in the least.

“ Ah! fellow-comrades, I have pipes, I have
trinkets,” he said, in German, “ I have articles
Very cheap. Come you this way, and you shall
have them next to nothing.”

The men, attracted by the novelty, SOON crowd—
ed about the eddler, apparently forgetting the
oily, who took advantage of the
highway, and walked quickly on, only quicken-

-ing her pace. After some moments, hearing

footsteps, she looked around. The peddler was
hastening after her.

f‘th I thank you so much, my good friend,"
581d Molly, her cheeks nowquite blanched.

“It is of no conse hence,” the man returner],
in broken English; ‘ I shall see you along a no
tie further. It is imprudent for you to be out
alone. Your business must be of importance.”
- She glanced at him keenly as he said this,

"but his face was turned away.

' “Perhaps it is, and perhaps not,” she replied,

 

laughing. “ If you were a spy you could get
nothing from me."

“ But if I were a spy on the right side?"

“ Oh! but I should want to see your creden-
tials first.”

“ Very right. Then, my good girl look at
this when you get home,” and he placed a paper
in her hand.

She glanced at it and gave a. stifled cry.

“ Well, what’s the matter?"

She looked at him, then at the bold hand-
writing on the back of the letter before her, so
unlike any other that she had ever seen.

“ That must be the signature of Captain
Paul—”

“ Hist!” cried the peddler, as they drew near
a knot of people. . .

“But it is his,” she repeated, in alow tone.
“ Do you know him?” she added, eagerly, “is
he alive?"

“He was, last night,” was the low response.

" Great Heaven! is be here?”

“ Herc! Why, little woman, do you know
how many miles a man can travel between sun-
set and sunrise?”

“ Ohl then you saw him somewhereo-be is
not dead l” and her cheek flushed again;

" He is not dead, to my certain knowledge,"
was the reply.

Molly looked down but said nothing. Again
her heart was beating almost fiercely, but not
with dread. All doubt was at an end. She
had no motive now for visiting the little hos-
pital. Paul Green, her handsome lever, was
yet living. The stronger watched her furtive—
1y. He saw the eyes grow bright and sparkling
—noted the quick movement of her bodiceuher
abstracted manner—and said to himself:

“ She loves him-she loves him i" _

“ Oh! here I am, at Lawyer Ashury’s," cried

“ Molly, looking up from her delicious reverie.

“Thank you a thousand times for your kind—"

ness and y rotectiou, and if you should need any
advice, call at Lady Walsiugham’shyou will be
sure to find me."

“ A noted Tory house, eh?”

” True, tut she is a kind, cod woman, and
does not feel as even some 0 those who were
born in this country. As {or me, I have no
choice—my father put me there.”

“ And your father is a Tory, though you are
not. I take it.”

“ You have no right to question me,” Was the
quick reply.

“True. I beg your pardon,” and the queer
old man passed on.

“ Great Heaven] what have I said 1” cried
Molly to herself. “ The man may be a spy and
I never thought”——nnd she reviewed his ques-
tions and her answers. '

" 1 think I was careful," she murmured, as
she went slowly from terrace to terrace. “A3
for this letter, whatever it is, I’ll read it and
burn it.” .

“ Little Molly Putnam, from Lady VValsmg—
hanm's,” echoed Mrs. Asbury. “Let her come

n.
“Well, my dear," cried the lawyer’s wife,
“ and how is my Lady Walsingham?"
“Yes, hosz my dear, m precious Lady
Walsingham?” whistleda smu ,afllected vows,

  

Ii
'2
,
'i

 

 

 

 

 

Molly. the Girl Captain. 'l'

 

and Molly, glancing up, saw the most grotesque
miniature of a woman that she had ever met in
her life, painted and padded and patched and
powdered, and so altogether made up, that it
was diflicult to tell where any part of the real
woman was.

“ This is Miss Lydia Lavoy, in
used to be such a famous belle.
have heard of her.”

“ Used to be the toast of all the young gen—
tlemen, my dear,” put in the other, complacent-
ly, smoothing out the folds of her sea-green
silk, “ and not bad—looking now, considerin
she has passed her thirtieth year. Do you thin

fl

dear, who
0 doubt you

Molly could hardly keep from laughing out-
right, as the antiquated little woman who had
probably seen her sixtieth winter, hobhed down
upon the sofa. But, she had no time to spend
in compliments. ,

“ I came to see Miss Elsie, on her aunty’s
account,” she said, turning to the lawyer’s
wife.
“ Then, my dear, you must go to a very low
and common place to find her,” replied Mrs.
Asbury.

Molly o ned her eyes, quite terrified.

“ Yes, Else Vernon took offense at something
her uncle Charles said about the ragged troops
of General Washington,~and choso to leave our

rotection. I think she lives with that old

aundress on the lane. You know her, a Mrs.
Green I think.”

Molly’s cheek burned as if she had been in-
sulted; but, remembering the role she had pro-
posed to herself to play, she suppressed the in-
dignation trembling on her lips.

“ I hardly think Mrs. Green should be called
a laundress,” she replied, as respectfully as she
could, “because when the American officers
wanted their linen done up she volunteered to
have it washed. You know, Mrs. Asbury, there
were so many Tories in town that the washer-
women were all afraid to work for the Conti-
nental Army. I am sure Mrs. Green has always
been a lady."

“ The kind of lady that I have no wish to asso-
ciate with,” said Mrs. Asbur with a sneer.
“However, lady or no lady, iss Vernon has
seen fit to make her home with her.”

Away turned Molly, freighted with compli-
ments from poor Miss Lydia Lavoy to Wal—
singham House. She took her way to the
pleasant lane on the outskirts, where Widow
Green resided in a quaint, picturesque, two-
storied cottage. '

 

CHAPTER VI.

TWO DISCOVERIESa

A MAN old in figure, leaned over the little
oaken table, pointing out the outlines of a. map.
His face was hidden by luxuriant curls, which
it was the fashion for the men of that day to
wear.

The room was an apartment—owe Widow
Green’s cottage—a large, sunny, homely par-
lor, which, apart from a few good pictures and
two or three elegant pieces of antique furni-
ture, had in it uothin unusual. An old eight-
day clack ticked in t e corner, its tall mahog-

 

 

any frame looking gaunt and care—worn with
time, for it was an heir-loom and very en-
cient. A yellow painted spinning wheel could
be seen through the open door that led into the
kitchen.

On the opposite side of the table stood Elsie
Vernon, her beautiful face quite colorless, and
though she was listening attentively, seeming to
regard the proceedings before her with far-
away glances. Next to her, her whole attention
absorbed, the Widow Green leaned partly on her
son’s shoulder, as she watched the intricacies of
the ma . 1

Outside, near the gate, stood uncouth Hannah,
the only serving-maid and faithful friend and
attendant of the widow through many years,
both of prosperity and adversity. She was to
wave or lift a red handkerchief carelessly, if she
saw any one comin . l

“ There, you see, said the peddler, still in—
tent upon his explanations, “how it was the
general feared the enemy might pass behind

him. There is Northcastle, and here is where « / '

he fortified. He’s gnreat for strategy, is General
Washington. Lee as a splendid reputation in
the army, but with all his military acumen, he
was surprised and captured at a little farm-house
off here."

“ So that story was true?" said Elsie. “ I was
so mortified when my uncle told me.”

“ The whole arm was mortified,” returned
the young man. “ hey’ll never catch Wash-
ington napping in that way. You see Fort
Lee; it is on the west bank of the Hudson, oppo—
site Fort Washington. Well, there was where
we made our retreat. It was a dark time, I
assure you, with a great, well—disci lined army
in our rear. We lost almost everyt in «tents,
baggage, artillery, and provismns. ut, b
heavens! nothin discourages the general. 0
matter how muc the men complain, or the oili—
cers grumble. By the way—”

“ See, Mrs. Green, Hannah has the handker- r
chief flying," cried Elsie.

Up went the battered hat of the peddler—in
which the thick dark locks were hidden, and the
face assumed its old im expression. .

“ Ohl it‘s only Mo] y, the deer little thing,” ,
cried Elsie, again going to the window. “ Cap-
fiainflPaul, I don’t think you need to be afraid of

“ I don’t indeed," relied the other, who had
hastily drawn out his small pack, and thrust the
crumpled ma into his pocket, while through
psuedo-wrink es on’his ace, the blood leaped
redly. “ Still, it may be best to be cautious,"
he added with a smile.

“ Molly darling I" cried Elsie, with whom the
youn girl was a great favorite.

“ (lib! Miss Elsie, I’m so glad 1” She turned
and started with astonishment. “ Why! here’s
theflddlcr, who protected me so kindly on the
tea

“ Protected you ?” echoed Elsie and the widow.

“ Should (you know him again?” asked a. well.
reme'nbere voice, that set all her pulses heat—
ing, and the peddler lifted the battered old call?5
showing a fine breadth of forehead and
luxuriant hair.

" Remember—oh! Captain Paul!” cried Molly a 1

her cheeks covered with bluhses. He held uphia .

w.

 

 

 

.  <;vv>»5:~& '

‘.S‘z:.q§7:—'m.:§1ztx~m . 

 

 

‘Tflfm.;¢.’;2§z‘;..§zfi"~h,4f“~

 ,

Ti: ,4..- ‘;»:_. 7n

 

 

'3 Holly, the Girl Captain.

finger; M01! ’5 eyes fell. Elsie noticed her
agitation an quickly divined the cause.

“Come with me, Molly," she said; “I have
something to tell you.”

“ Oh! Miss Elsie, would you have dreamed it
was Captain Paul?” cried Molly, when they were
alone together.

“ No, dear, we neither of us recognized him——
not even his mother. Why, my child, the tours
are in your eyes.”

M“nI—I feel wretchedly nervous,” half sobbed

o .

“ l’iideed, my poor little girl. we all have cause
to feel wretchedl_ nervous. You did not hear,
perhaps, that ieutenant-Colonel Washburn
was a prisoner?” .

“Oh! Miss Elsie !" cried Molly, forgetting all
her troubles, “ that can’t be possible.’

“ I fear it is, though it may have been an in-
vention of my uncle, to disconcert and trouble

“ That splendid young gentleman,” cried
Molly. “ Is he in the custody of the Hessian
general, do you think?”

“You mean General Rabi? He must be, my
dear, of course, if he is a prisoner. The last
time I heard of him he was at Fort Washington.
How he came here I cannot tell.”

“ General Rob] was at your aunt‘s but this
morning. He is to be presentat a grand party to
be given at Walsingham House, on Christmas
night. It was to beg you to go there on or be-
fore the occasion, that Lady Walsingham sent
me here.”

“ She knows I would not,” cried Elsie in-
dignantly.

“ But, Miss Elsie, pardon me;——1 have been
thinking it would be better to be on good terms
with these people.”

“ The enemies of our country! This from you,
Molly Putnam!” cried Elsie, with real anger.
“ What has changed your mind?”

“The fear that~that~—” Molly looked down
distressed. “ I may as well make a clean breast
of it," she added, looking up and smiling through
her tears, “ the fear that some I loved might be
in peril. I even was bold enough to beg for a

, pass from the general, to visit the hospital.”
“ Admirable, Molly!" cried Elsie, her eyes
‘ kindling with enthusiasm. “ I see your drift. Is
it possible that you can really get into the hos—
tel—perhaps go through the camp of the
ossians?"

“ Is it not worth trying?”

“ Yes, yes-anything,” cried Elsie. breathless—
ly, below her voice. “ Yes, yes, I comprehend

_ —-you are a better strategist than I am, Molly.
Tell my aunt she may expect me on the twenty—
third, und that I shall he happv to do everything

i, in my power. Indeed, I will please her; and,

Molly, think what a great thin it would be to
liberate him. g

“ I wonder if it would please my aunt if I
came directlvi” mused Elsie.

“ I think she would be delighted," Molly made

answer.
“ Ellen I'll trust to your woman’s wit to find
in

“ l’l! do it, or my name’s not Molly.”
“ Good little Molly! Lotus sea! our compact
th a kiss here! now it is settled.”

i

 

A

“ Yes, I’m to be a heroine, if I die for it,”
laughed Molly.

“ Find out for me, Molly, if m aunt really
desires me to come, and send wot: by somebody
at the house.”

“ Yes, and Miss Elsie, trust me but what I’ll
get you some word from him. I’ve wit enough
for that, at all events.” .

“ A thousand thanks, darling, till you can be
better repaid. And now we‘ll go down and see
the old peddler."

At that moment a. familiar voice sounded from
the wood. Both girls ran to the window. It
was old Glen Ratcliife, as he was called by the
loyalists, talking to somebody across the road.

“ Aspyl did you say?" cried the opposite voice.

“ That’s what they say now,” re lied Ratclifife
—-“ papers found upon him that ll han him.
Serves him right for a fool. I always said arry
Washburn would come to a bad end."

Elsie withdrew her face. Death would not
have altered it. The two girls looked in one an-
other’s faces; Molly burst into tears.

“ Hush, Molly; don’t you see how calm I am?”
said Elsie. And, indeed, the quiet of her voice
and manner was something fearful.

M‘hOh! Miss Elsie—it would kill you,” sobbed

o y.

“ l’m not sure but it Wduld,” replied Elsie,
with that same far-oil? , look in her eyes; “ but,
now, we must redouble our exertions; we must
gave, heaven and earth but what we release

1m.

“ Yes,” she murmured, “ yes, I would even do

that, to savealifeso valuable to his country. .

My lglod! be Thou the friend of the friendless
now

‘f Molly,” she continued, “ not a. word about
this to uni one, not even to Cafptain Paul. What

is said to im I will say mysel ”

Molly promised silence, and, after a few mo- ,

ments, the two girls went down-stairs together.
Paul would not let Molly go alone. There
were squads of drunken soldiers all over the
town, he said; and, though he did not walk with
her, he was still near enough to keep her in view,
till she reached Walsingham House in safety.

CHAPTER VII.
mm NIGHT AT VALLEY FORGE.

Tum wind whistled along the gloomy banks of
the Delaware nvgr, and seemed to moan with
ever-increasing Violence at that part where
Washington's troops were encamped. Here and
there guards were stationed, but the freezing eiir
penetrated the worn-out clothing of the soldiers,
and their feet, frost-bitten and often bleeding
from the want of sufficient protection, left,‘ in
some places, the traces of their suffering.

Washington sat in a large unfurnished room
of a deserted farm-house. Beside him stood an
oaken table, covered with papers. In the great
chimney-place a huge fire roared; but he did
not seem to be thinking of the warmth.

In one corner of the room, a sort of “ shake-
down” had been made, and a soldier was lying
there under his cloak. It was one of the gen-
eral‘s aide, a Captain Cuyler. Nearer the fire,
his chair tilted back, his arms folded, his brows
contracted, sat another officer, a Colonel Best.

The two candles, one on the high, > narrow

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

l
J
i
4!

i,
.l
5% ‘
,.

 

Molly, the Girl Captain. . 9

 

shelf, the other on the table, only added to the
general gloom.

Suddenly Washington roused himself from his
reverie.

“ It’s a terrible night," he said.

“ Terrible, indeed. Ice is making fast in the
river. I wonder when it will hear the weight of
an army?”

Washington smiled gloomily.

“ I don’t think we shall stay for that,” he re-

lied.
p “ Cornwallis is not thirty miles off, they say,”
replied the colonel.

“ I don't doubt it," Washington responded.
“ I only wish we were the pursuing party, and
the river before them.”

“ Confound him i” muttered the colonel, still
referring to Cornwallis. “ It is in vain to look
gar reinforcements! the people will give us no

el .

‘ But they will throw up their hats if we whip
the Hessians,” said Washington, grimly. “ Here
is Lee a risoner, and Reed a traitor, at least to
me; whi e the subordinate officers are quarrel-
ing about promotion.”

“ We shall look back to these'dark days, gen-
eral, with a little pardonable pride.”

“ Yes, sir, we shall," cried General Washing-
ton, as if nerved with a fresh idea. “ I trust in
God we shall. At all events, nothing shall be
wanting on my part, in the midst of every dis-
couragement; and we have discourageinents
enough, God knows. The enemy must be in
total ignorance of our numbers and situation, or
they would never suil'er us to remain unmo-
lested. Sir William Howe is expected, and
Cornwallis is close upon us. Our prisoners are
suffering and languishing; everything 10' ks
dark, I admit, yet give me but a few trusty
friends, and I promise victory. Yes, victory;
I feel it in every fiber of my frame."

“ Your words are inspiriting, general.”

The door opened; one of the ards appeared.
The general motioned him to t a fire, for it had
begun to rain, and every (part of the poor fei-
low’s ragged uniform was ripping.

“ I am sorry it is so bad a night,” said the
general. “ Well. you have some intelligence.”

“A stranger has arrived, with letters and
credentials, who insists upon seeing the gene ,”
said the soldier. “ He is a foreigner.”

General Washington held a short conference
with the colonel, then ordered that the stranger
be admitted. He stood before him soon, a
small, dark. keen>eyed Polish officer. The gen-
and read his letter of introduction from Dr.
Franklin.

“ Sir. you come to us in the darkest time of
our history,” said Washington. “ What do you
seek here?”

The stranger drew up his form with a gesture
of pride.

“ I come here to fight for American independ-
ence." he said. ~

Washington smiled. The straightforward
answer pleased him.

“ What can you do!”

“ T me,” was the quiet regliy.

“ . th pleasure,” return the general;
“and, calling a servant. he sent him up—stairs
to assign quarters to Kosciusko.

 

The storm grew yet fiercer. Gusts of snow
and rain swept against the windows; without
was darkness and cold; the almost freezing sol-
diers tried in vain to coax warmth into ragged
blankets; many of the tents were displaced, and
the sentinels had all they could do to keep life
in their stiffening limbs.

It was twelve o’clock by the old kitchen time-
piece when Washington laid down his pen and
proposed to retire. The servant on me in and
heaped more wood on the fire. Then he brought
a. couple of blankets and something that looked
like a pillow, and placed them near the hearth,
for Washington sometimes slept Indian fashion,
his feet toward the fire.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
LIFE on DEATH.

ONLY the breathing of the sleepers could be
heard within; only the tread of the sentinel at
times. and the wind brought in the noise from
without.

Suddenly, in the distance, came the regular
tramp of horses' feet. The soldiers listened,
portending evil but before long the sentinels
were relieved hy the low-spoken talismunic
word, which proved that the man before them,
wet and haggard, was one of themselves. His
business, he said, admitted of no daisy—ho must
see General Washington.

At the a proach of this horseman, another -‘
than the so diers and sentinels outside had ap-
prehended danger. Some time after Washing-
ton had thrown himself down, this man had
half-risen, warily, and peered out into the now
brightly-illuminated room. A haggard, re-
morseful expression marked his face. though he
was young and handsome. His lips were closely
pressed together—his eyes were gleaming and
desperate. At one moment it seemed as if he
were about to rise, and the soldier on guard at
the door turned his sleep vision in that direc-
tion. The captain thong i: better, however, and
by the time the midnight intruder made his ap-
plearance before Washington, he feigned a sound
s .

ashington was a light sleeper. As he’stood
up to receive the newcomer, he looked as fresh
as if he had rested for a night.

“ I am Captain Green, of the Tenth New Jer-
sey Volunteers," said the young officer with
a respectful salute. “ Since noon today I have
ridden posts-haste from Trenton."

Washin ton’s eye li hted. '

“ The essians are t ere in considerable force,
commanded by General Rahl,” continued the
young man, ‘On the nineteenth, three re 1—
ments stationed near the town, received fa se
news that re-enforcements were expected. The
communication was regarded as coming from
yourself. and. with high hopes, they enga a.
party of Hessians, thinking they were iso ated
from the main body. I regret to say that it
ended disastrously to our small army, and the
Hessians completely routed the volunteers,
killing some, wounding man , and takm one

risonpr of rank—Lieutenan Colonel asb-

urn.

Washington’s brow clouded.

There was a quick movement opposite. Cop- .

 

10

' tain Cuyler moved uneasily, muttering as if in

lee .

“glut worse than this, by some papers found
upon his person, he is condemned as a spy, and
will be hung on the twenty-sixth—the day after
Christmas.”

“ My brave young friend i” cried the general,
in a suppre voice. “We must not allow
this—murder—for it is nothing less. Washburn
was no spy.”

“We are all ready to stake our lives on his
innocence. I have to. en advantage of the pe~
culiar state of things,” continued Ca tain Green,
with a significant smile, “ and here is the result
of my in uiries."

He lai notes, and a small map, rudely out-
lined in pencil, before Washington.

“ Thanks, my brave comrade,” said Washing-
ton; “if this service affects us favorably, your
promotion is sure ;” and seating himself, he rall-
ed the colonel to his side. The three sat there
for an hour, and at the end of that time Wash-
ington said:

‘ The blow must be struck then or never. We
must eflect the crossing at Christmas. It Will
never do to let those foreign rascals murder that

Molly. the Girl Captain.

poor sentinel, under the influence of a powerful
drug, lay crouched up against the door. Wash-
ington’s face and head were here, and somehow
the thin flame that now and then lifted itself up
snakin from the half-spent embers, fell full upon
his noble face—the grand brow from which the
thick hair swept naturally; the calm greatness
of the man’s countenance was most impressive
in this awful period.

For on that hour hung the balance of our fate
as a nation!

Captain Cuyler had become passionately enam-
ored of a beautiful English girl, at that time re-
siding in New York. The infatuation of her only
brother—as she called it—had led him to forsake
his family, and join the American cause. For
this and for other reasons, her hatred of the
Continental Army was intense. She had inspir-
ed this young American captain with an almost
idolatrous loveI and after playing fast and loose
with him for months. at last consented to reward
him with her hand. if ever he succeeded, by fair
means or foul, of ridding-V the country of its
great father and patriot— ashington.

And now the time had come.

There. at his mercy, lay that august head.

 

There, at the point of his steel, trusting and
pureasevcr man’s purposes could be in any
righteous came, lay that noble heart. Again
and again he turned away his head,as that
thin, whim dagger of flame Eleamedmpon the
features of the commander W cm all men loved.
Across his memory rushed all the kindly words
that he had 5 ken, all the noble deeds that he
had done. S ould a woman’s smile and a home

1 honorable soldier. Remember, that for the
l‘ ' time being. we are sworn to secrecy."
l" ' “How do you propose to cross, general?”
queried the colonel.
“ In boats."
“Will it be possible?”
' “It must be!”
“We have some splendid sailors," said the

1»;

z

w an“ s .

i, .r.. a“,

.

 

 

colonel.

“ Yes, the Marblehoad regiment.”

An hour after this complete silence reigned
once more in the old arm-house.

The fire had burned low, casting new and
then fltful flashes through the gloom. Wash-
ington slept soundly, so, apparently, did all but
the one man on guard, who had much ado to
keep his 9 es open.

Presen y the captain upon the shakedown
lifted his head.

“ Donelly,” he whispered. ‘

The man’s hand went to his slouched cap.

“ There’s a bottle of whisky in the cupboard.
and a drinking-horn. Bring them here, will
you? Ifeelill.” ,

“Sart’in sir,” said the man, with another
salute, and he Went softly for the coveted
articles—his eyes now quite bright and wide
awake.

“ Will you take some, Doneliyl It will keep

nu warm."

" Will I? Sure, you know I’ll consider ita
blessin’ this night.”

“ Well, here; one horn will do on no harm;
quick, man," and he cured outa arge quantity.
which Donelly dran , ending with a satisfied
smack, and crept back to his place.

“If worse comes to Worst,” muttered the
young man, in an undertone, “they’ll say be

ad a lit—or that it was him who tried it--or——
Great Godl what a night it is!” and he pretend-
ed to drink some of the whisky. his hand shak-
ing‘like that of e guilty coward all the while.

he hours passed on, and the only seemingly
living thing in that room were the captain’s
eyes, that now and then glared fearfully. The

 

of grandeur weigh against these?

“ My Godl how can I?" the young man groan-
ed, in an ish.

“ But cannot lose her,” and again the hand
of treachery was uplifted.

“ I chooso between my country and my own
selfish” love,” not in just those words did the
thought come to him; nevertheless it did come.
Sud enly one blast. shriller than all the rest,
seemed to whistle in his ear the word:

“ Murderer I”

He started back, glaring over his shoulder,
thrusting his long dark hair from either ear;
his eyes dilated as it with madness. And there
came a vision before him, with awful distinct-
ness—the portrait of a memory—a pale, sweet
face—pale, sad lips, that called him lovingly—
eyes frosted by death—yet beaming tenderness
upon her boy—the memory of a dying mother.
Quick as thought he sprung to his feet.

“ I will not do this deed!" he cried. “ I swear
by my Maker and by my honor I will not. Bet-
ter misery—life-loni—better death I”

“What is it?” T e V0108 was Washington’s I
who waited as easily as he slept. “Sentinel,
are on there?”

“ ere, sir,” replied the young captain, who
now stood before the sleeping soldier.

“ All right!” said Washin ton, drowsilv, and.
unconscious of the dreadfu tragedy that had
been contemplated, he sunk again into slumber.

Rousing himself in the early morning. Wash
ington was surprisod to see young Captain
Cuyler, who was a favorite of his, standing in
place of the sleeping soldier. He was ale and
ghostlike, for anight of intense manta sniffer~

 

 

 

Molly, the Girl Captain.

11

 

\
ing had acted fearfully upon his sensitive tem‘
perament.

“What does this mean?” asked Washington;
“ is Donelly dead?"

“Dead tired, reneral,” answered young Cuy-
ler. “ I pitied the poor fellow, and took his
place.”

“ You assumed a. peculinr responsibility,
young sir,” replied the general, in a. voice which
he tried to make stern. “However, it speaks
well for the goodness of your heart.”

The sleeping sentinel was roused with diffi-
culty, and, half-dead with terror, bosougbt the
captain to exculpate him, and his tremor was
scarcely alloyed by the assurance that Wash-
ington knew of it and had forgiven him.

The day had scarcely waned when, among
the letters brought to camp, was one by a
famous scout——direct to Captain Cuylcr. The
young man received it with apathy, for the
handwriting was not what he expected.

He opened it—then sat glaring, his eyes wide
and white with agony.

Miss Letty Washbum was dead I

On the receipt of news that her brother was a
prisoner and condemned to death, she had been
seized with convulsions, and died almost instant-
I v

) Where now would have been the reward for
his treachery? A fugitive and a wanderer had
he been this hour—u skulking vagabond—the
murderer not only of a man, but of a nation.

, No wonder that within twenty-four hours
there were silver threads in the dark hair.
That baptism of sorrow made him old before his
time.

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE FAIR CONSPIRATORS.

To go back and take up the thread, broken
for the introduction of this e isode.

Molly was received at alsingham House
with rapture.

“ So Elsie is coming? I have been fretting
over an expected refusal. Why, little Molly,
what charm have you? I never dreamed you
would succeed.”

“ I think she wearies of this continued strife
with her family," said Moll .

“ Poor child! and after a 1, she is not so much
to blame. Her father brought her up, and all
but laid his dying command upon her. I wish
she would only be a little more reasonable,” said
Lad Walsingham.

“ he will be, perhaps, after this.”

“Now I can make our heart glad,” said
Lad Walsingham. “ ere’s a permit for you
tov sit the hospital. It was brou ht by a de-
lightful Hessian, who spoke bar was Eug-
lish, in which, putting together words enough to
make along hamngue, I could only distinguish
two of them.”

Molly’s eyes glistened.

“But will you want to go alone, child? I
think I had better send Joe with you. He is so
silly that nobody will be afraid of him, but he
thinks so much of you that he could protect
you.”

She rung the bell. Another moment, and Joe
Stupid, as the servants called him, a half-mtted
boy, stood upon the threshold.

 

“ Joe,” said Lady Walsingham, “ you’re to go
to the hospital with Miss Molly, here."

“ Won’t I though?" was Jee’s delighted an-
swer. “Ain’t I grateful? Wouldn’t I go to
Chiny with her? Don’t—”

“' but will do, Joe. Go and get ready, and
be sure you follow her close] , and keep si once.”

“ Won’t I though? Ain’t —-—”

“There, there, Joe—no talking; hurry, or
Miss Molly will go without you.”

Joe was soon ready, and following Molly so
closely that he seemed to be ambitions to tread
in her particular footsteps. The old church
stood in asort of open area. On one side, it
was uite hemmed in by thickly-set pines—on
the ot or only a wide field bounded the vision.

Molly showed her permit, and was allowed to
enter.
boy’s being one of large dimensions.

The interior of the church had been stripped
bare of seats, and rudely—constructed cots and
beds laid all around. At first, Molly thought
she never could have the courage to enter. The
sight of so many pale faces, so many appliances
for surgery, so many grave, severe-looking offi-
cers, particularly the surgeons, who seemed to
frown upon her, disconcerted her terribly.
However, she mustered up courage at last, and,
finding out to whom she might (LEtribute her
delicacies, she was soon busy among both friends
and foes.

There was note. familiar face among them, and
she was not allowed to speak to her own coun-
trymen. How should she get access to the
camp, for that was now her main solicitude? If
she s oke to the officers, they chose not to under-
stan her, and probably they did not, for,
among them all, only one might have been
taken for an Englishman by the purity of his
accent, and that was General Rah], who was no-
where visible. '

Molly prolonged her visit to the hospital as
long as she dared. As she left the building,
General Rahl was just then dismounting at the
door. He recognized Molly at once.

“So you came, and are you satisfied that a.
hospita is not as pleasant a lace as a camp?"

“ How can I tell unless had seen a camp!”
Molalinnocenfly inquired.

“ ould it please you to see a camp?”

“Ohl very much,” cried Molly, with enthu-
siasm.

“Then, if you will wait here one little mo-

Both Joe and herself bore baskets, the »

meat, your servant can hold my horse, and I ‘

will myself accompany you.”

Fortunate Molly—to have for an escort no
less than the great General Rahll But Molly
did not think of the distinction: her soul was
engrossed in the plot of which she was continu~
ally dreaming. 0 become a heroine in a good

cause was the sole ambition of her life.

Presently the general came out, and they
Walked along the main road together.

“You are—did I understand—arrrelatiou of
Lad Washingham?" he inquired.

“ am a. friend of Lady Washingham’s sir,
not a relation.”

“Ah! I mistook. Lady Washingham is a

beautiful woman.” ‘ .
“She is indeed, sir, but you should see her
niece," ‘ . I

 

 

 

12 y‘ L Molly, the Girl Captain.

- wmmm mm...

 

 

“ I have seen Miss Elsie Vernon.”

“ That is she—the loveliest; creature I ever
knew.”

“ Lovely, indeed, but unfortunately our in-
clinations diverge in such a manner as to render
[a close acquaintance almost impossible."

“ You mean, sir——-"

“ That she is a. rebel.”

“Now, I think you are mistaken, General
Rabi." said Molly, quietly.

” WhatI she is not 8. Violent anti~royalist?”

“Not as violent as she might be. She has
modified her opinions somewhat.”

’ “ Since when?” and the general looked eager-
ly in Molly's eyes. ‘

“ Since very recently, I may say. The truth
is, it is not pleasant, living in a constant broil
with members of one’s fa nily.”

“Indeed, I should thin not," murmured the
genera], abssntly.

“ And she has concluded to live at peace with
them."

“ A wise conclusion,” he answered.

“It may be that she will ignore the Repub-
lican cause altogether," said Molly, going in her
zeal much further than circumstances warrant-
ed, or her friend would have approved.

' ‘I believinnderstood that the young lady
was residinqith Lawyer Asbury, who is her
uncle.” «

“ She was there," said Molly, “but she is
expected at Walsingham House for a long
visit.”

A gleam of pleasure crossed the general’s

ace.
“ So. she will probably grace the entertain-
ment on Christmas night.” ‘
“ Undoubtedly,” said Molly. “I think if she
had been there to—day, I might have been tempt—
.ed'to trespass upon your generosity. I know
ahgalvsishes to see both the camp and the hos-
: .
p “Nothing would deli ht me more than to
show them to her,” sai the general, with the
enthusiasm of a lover. “ Will you say so, from
me? It will give me the keenest pleasure.”
“I will say so, and I am almost certain that
she will accept. But oh! here is the camp.
Why, it is like a little city i”
“ Our military ideas of order are very strict,”
> be said, smiling. ‘
“And pray, have you any prisoners?” she
asked. carelessly. “It seems to me I heard or

' some."

“Onlyrone of any note and I fear it will
shock you to hear that he is under sentence of
death.”

“Dear, deer! that is terrible.” Said Molly,
‘ I with a sudden pallor. that, however, escaped

his eye. "Pray what has he done? I did not
know that you always shot your prisoners.”
. “ Neither do we, except in cases like this.
W3 find a spy we do not shootLWe hang

m.

“ Oh, that is more awful still!” cried Molly,

’ , involuntarily lacing her hand to her throat;

“ you are crue -you are barbarous!”
‘ “.50 I dare say we seem, but it is not so. It
’ » is the rules of war-a any is hung almost without
find our jury.”

“ at you could save him.”

 

“ Oh, the portioning power lies with me, of
course,” said the general, “ butI would not exer-
else it in such a case as that. It would be a.

'(lnngerous precedent.”

Molly was silent fora. few moments. Some-
Elhing seemed to rise in her throat and choke

er.

“ Do you hang them right away i” she asked,
in a low voice.

“ Sometimes—hut we have given this young
man grace. He will not be executed till the day
after Christmas.”

Molly’s face brightened.

“ I’m sure that you can feel no sympathy
wfith the enemies of the king,” he said a moment
a ter.

“Oh. of course not; but it would be so—so
interesting to see a prisoner under such circum-
stances!”

“ Why, that is a little bloodthirsty.”

“ And if Miss Elsie and myself should visit
the camp again, I think—«I am almost sure—it
would afford her pleasure al-o.”

“ To see a man under sentence of death?
Well, you shall be gratified if you bring Miss
Vernon here, I promise you. But I am afraid
it may make you morbidly sensitive. The young
inandlappens to be interesting—and handome,

oo.

“ Oh. we’ll promise to be very proper,” re«
plied Molly, with great difficulty concealing a
break in her voice. What would she have given
could she at that moment have allowed free
vent to the tears that were crowding up from
her heart.

It was not long before Elsie and she were
closeted together, laying plans that were no
sooner formed than they seemed impossible to
undertake. But they were brave as well as ten-
gar spirits—those two gentle girls—and did not

espa r

“Even should we see him,” said Elsie, “we
cannot communicate with him.”

“ Did you say once that he had a dumb sis-
ter?” asked Molly. A

“ Yes, he has two sisters; the youngest—4:.
child. is dumb.”

“ Then of course he knows the deaf and dumb

“ Oh, yes! I have often seen him use it.”

“ And so do Ii” cried Molly, joyfully. “ My
mother could onl talk by signs two years he-
fofie she died, an that compelled her to study

“ Molly you are my angell" said Elsie, fer-
vently. ‘ While the attention of the others is
turned another way, you could certainly con-
trive to say a word or two. "

“ I am sure I could,” said Molly. “ Now, sup:
pose it to be one word. What should you
choose?”

“ Hope I” said Elsie.

“ And look—it is said,” laughed Molly. “ We
shall save him i”

CHAPTER X.
PEDDLING TO SOME PURPOSE.

THE prisoner had, meantime, abandoned the
delicious feeling portrayed by that word—hope.
He felt that his doom was drawin near. ,

He had been placed in a small ones on the

 

.
I
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1
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i
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;

 

Molly. the Girl Captain. ,1” 13

 

outskirts of the camp, under a strong guard,
and there passed his solitary hours. It was hard
to stare death in the face thus, and he so young;
hard to feel that liberty not only, but life were
denied him. And he was i11no¢~cnt-not of the
charge of fighting against the king, but of being
a s y.

is room was very small, the windows
overlooking the camp, so that. he wearied of
the scene. His thoughts turned backward.
He had voluntarily deserted his family for the
sake of the cause for which he was to die ig—
nominiously. His proud sister, he knew, con-
sidered that he had disgraced them all. Yet
he was sure that, if she heard of his present
situation, it would nearly, if not quite, cause
her death.

Yes, the past was continual] before him. He
had become acquainted with lsie Vernon only
to love her with the fondest and purest affection;
and now, almost within sight of the house where
he had first seen her, he should die a disgraceful
death.

“ It would he pleasanter to die in my bed,” he
murmured, looking toward the burning west;
“ it would be glorious to fall in battle; but to be
strung up like a common criminal—that is too
terrible, and for a crime of which I am not
guilty.” ’

Ashe was saying this little Molly was just
parting from the commander outside the en-
trance of the camp.

Presently he heard voices.

“ It’s that little Dutch peddler again,” said
one of his guards. “ He has some very nice
thin s, and very cheap. I shouldn’t wonder—”
and 6 made a motion as if in the act of drink-

mg.

“ Why can‘t he come in i” asked the elder and
stouter man.

“ Against orders,” was the reply.

“ Nonsense! He‘s only a peddler, well known
about here, I presume, and a furious royalist.”

“ How do you know 7”

“ We met him this morning, a party of us,
and he talked just right. If it wasn t for a lame
arm, he says, he should be with us, but that
makes it impossiblei” '

“ Ohl let him come in,” exclaimed the other.
“ We want something to break the monotony of
this place. There’s no danger to apprehend."

The young officer, who stood moodily gaz—
ing from the window, knew enough of Ger—
man to make out that they were interested in
the peddler, and he could not he] p turning as the
man came in. It was a careless scrutiny, how-
ever—he had never seen the man before, but the
change was a. relief. He was tired of the two
burly guards.

The pack was set upon the floor; the peddler
looked warily round; his eye caught that of the
lieutenant-colonel, but it was stolid and dull as
ever. ,
Presently he opened his budget, displaying
trinkets of all sorts. Red silk handkerchiefs lay
in fine contrast to white clay pipes. Meantime
he rattled on in German, praising the beauty of
his wares, oflering them at a price almost next
to nothing, and that must have been conSIdera-
bly below the cost of even ver inferior articles.

Among other things was a s owy pocketbook,

 

with silver classps, which took the fancy of the
elder Hessian. ,

“ That’s a beautiful thing,” said the peddle-r,
in German, “and so cheap. You mark that in-
scription there; and tho crimson edges match
your top-boots. See!" and he held them against
those appendages.

The Germans gravely inspected it.

“ What does it say?” asked the younger one.

“ Ahl you would be glad to know. But, per-
haps you want me to think you don’t know
English,” he said, his countenance changing.

They protested, each of them, that they did
not understand one word of the language.

By this time the prisoner was quite interested,
in spite of his apathy, and was even straining his
eyes to make out,.,if possible, what was written _
upon the pocketbook. ‘

“ Then first I will read it in English,” said the
peddler, “ and afterward translate it; what say

on?

“ Agreed l” was the answer.

The peddler lifted himself, stood with his back
to the window, so that the light fell on the pock~
etbook, and enunciated softly and distinctly:

“ I am Captain Paul Green, of the Tenth New
Jersey Volunteers. Having heard that my su-
perior officer wasin danger of his life from a
false charge, I decided to leave Trenton to—night
for Washington’s camp, and find some means if
possible, to liberate him."

It was well that oung Washburn stood partly.
in the shadow, for t 9 strong emotion that almost
shook his frame—the thing coming so unexpectc
ed] upon him—changed his face to a deathlike
pal or. Then rose a flush of deepest joy and j
gratitude; he leaned heavily against the wall,
for his strength seemed to have deserted him.

“ Well, boys, now do you want theinseription

in Hessian?” cried the peddler, turning a comical ,- 7 

glance toward them, never having trusted him—

self to look'at the prisoner.

t. They both assented, and the peddler con-
inuez :

“ This pocketbook has a charm imparted by
the Seventh son of a seventh son, and will never
be empty while the first purchaser carries it, if
it be for forty years." V ‘ .

“ You see it contains already a small sum of V
money,” he said, opening one of the pockets and
displayihg a German copper coin. “ Ohl I
assur‘s you, he who gets' this will haves. bar-
gain. -

Both men became immediately desirous of ‘
possessing this tnlismanic purchase, and. for a. .
time, there was quite a little war of words; nor ‘
was it finally settled till the t{fiddler proposed to r
toss up the coin and thus deci e. Havi follow.
ed his suggestion, it fell to the lot of "t a elder
Hessian, who aid his money, and seemed as
much delights as a child witha new toy..

Having completed his mission, the pseudo-ped-
dler departed, still denying himself the pleasure
of a parting glance with the lieutenant-colonel,
whose heart was for the first time, in a slight
degree hopeful. e remembered Captain Green,
a handsome, bold fellow, with the courage of a

lion, and his captivi seemed suddenly robbed  

of half its terrors. or the first time since his .,
imprisonment, he slept soundly that night after “
thanking God with a full heart.

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

CHAPTER XI.
“ on MOST WOEFUL SIGHT!”

11‘ still wanted nearly a week of Christmas.
Lady Walsingham had, however, set all the
confectioners and bakers to work. Cards of
invitation had been issued, and most of the
prominent people of Trenton were invited, and
coking forward with great expectations to the
promised entertainment. Seamsti'esses and
dressmakers were all engaged; parties: had been
sent to different ints to collect flowers for
decorations, and alsinghum House began to
wear a. gay and festive air. .

Elsie had been as good as her word. On the
afternoon that Molly spent in the hospital, she
had been driven over and received by her aunt
with a great show of cordiality, which was not
all assumed. \-

“Aud only think, my dear, some of those

’ Charming oflicers will be here almost every

, in

evening. Ideclare I’m half in love with that
splendid Hessian general, myself—«I am indeed;
and if I were oulys little younger—ahl me,”
and she sighed and laughed at the same time.
“Or, if I only had a thin waist,” she con-
tinued, as her niece resigned herself to what
was as unwelcome as it was inevitable, “I do
believe he would fancy me. I expect you will
make quite a sensation, my dear, and rob me of
all my conquests. Well, it’s but right, I suppose.
I’m the fruit and and you’re the blossom, and a
ver charming blossom, too.”
but evening General Rah] made his up ur-
ance with one of his stafl’. Never had lsie
appeared more radiantly beautiful; Her dress
was like a summer clohd, so floating and
ethereal. She looked scarcely a heir] of earth,
as she came in, in assumed spirits— er cheeks
delicately flushed, her eyes for exceeding in
splendor and de th of color the finest diamond.
If the genera had any heart to lose, it most
assuredly left him quite, on that evening. His
passion assumed a most serious character, and
er graciousness made his bewilderment all the
greater. He certainly never had looked for
such kindness from her hands. She addressai
her conversation to him—she dazzled, she can
tivated, she conquered, at once and entirel .
Molly might have been there. but she p eaded
indisposltion and had retreated, for the peddler
had sent a little package by Elsie, and in it was a
letter that Molly read and re-read many times
that night, and kissed more than once, it may

_ be guessed.

Elsie had surprised Molly by her high spirits
that night, when she retired.
_ “ Did I wake you, dear?” she cried. “ Well,
it’s to hear the good news. I was not to tell you
till after eleven. Where do you think your

" brave captain is?”

Mollly started 13) all in a tremor.

” 81 child! idn’t I tell you it was good
news?" aughed Elsie. “ Well, then, he is on his
way to Washingtion’s camp; and by this time,

1 is across the river.”

“ The dreadful river!” shuddered Molly.
ow could he cross? It is not frozen over.”

,“ Don’t you fear, little girl, but what he will

mans it. He is such a bold, dashing spirit

that almost fell in love with him myself,” and

1 she sighed and murmured;

 

“ Poor Washburnl Dear—dear Harry!”

“ The general asked me to visit the camp with
my aunt and yourself, to-morrow. Molly. we
must manage to see him,” she said, after a long
pause.

“ I dare say we shall,” said Molly. “ And I
have thought of a plan.”

“ What is it?”

“ I can‘t tell you to-uight, because I have not
quite finished it.”

“ Very well; to—morrow will do."

“ One little knows what tomorrow will bring
forth,” replied Molly, sleepily.

“ Truel one little knows.” v

That to—morrow brought the general in st 19.
A dashing barouohe drew up to the door. lsie
shuddered as he gallantly took her hand to help
her in. He was very chatty and pleasant during
the short drive, entertaining them with stories
of his campaigns.

They alighted at the camp. Elsie was now
pale and anxious. She almost doubted her pow-
ers of self-control. How should she act in the

reseuce of the man she loved and wished to save?
hat might he not suspect, seeing her in com-
pany of the Hessian general?
At last Molly broached the visit to the pris-
oner. ‘

“ It is his hour for exercise," said the general.
“ It may be as well to appear on the grounds as
chance visitors,”

Elsie felt a bitterness toward her aunt, who
had refused the arm of the general in her favor,
and under a pretext of keeping her long dress
from soiling, she dropped hissrm with an apology
as they passed along.

“ Yes- yonder he is with two guards,” said
General 1Rah], and Elsie felt her very heart grow
cold as they neared the place, and saw the tall,
handsome figure of the lieutenantcolonel, be-
tween two stalwart dessians.

Nearer they came and nearer. The prisoner
kept his eyes on the ground, apparently deter-
mined they should see he did not wish to be made
a spectacle of.

‘ I thought I remembered the name,” cried
Lady 'Walslngham. “ Why, eneml—il a warn-
ing ressure and pleading loo from Molly stop-

er. The general had half turned—at that

moment the prisoner looked up; his eyes encount—
ered the pleading, almost passionate glance of
the woman he loved. Elsie grew taint with up-
prehension, and caught at the general’s arm . for
support. '

‘Miss Vernon,” he said, “ I had no idea the
sight of a prisoner would affect you like this.”

‘ It is the thought—that—he is to die,” half
gasped Elsie.

“Ah! I dare say; but we cannot reverse the
decision with anything like honor. By the laws
of war spies are always executed. The comv
manders on the other side would have no mercy
on me in Were caught in the same offense.”

“ But are you sure he was a spy 1'" asked Elsie
in a low voice, that {altered somewhat.

“ He has been judged and not acquitted,” said
the general impressively. “ His judges were
fourteen of the best men in my command.”

They rammed home silently.

“We have talledl”vrled Elsie, “and some,

.

 

i;
,‘.

 

.h‘ ,

 

 

Molly, the Girl Captain. 15

 

thing tells me that all is to end disastrously.
0h, Molly! what evil spirit tempted me to go!”

“ Who would have dreamed that we should
see him in that manner in the presence of all
those soldiers?" Molly exclaimed, halt pouting.
“Even as it was, I attempted the alphabet, but
he had no eyes save for you."

“ Oh, Molly! there’s a dead weight on my
heart!” cried Elsie, bursting into tears. “ I
can’t conquer the impression that I have brought
ruin upon the man of all the world I love the
best. Oh! it was brought home to me, soter—
riblyl Death by the hangman’s hand—just as
they would kill a murderer. It is awful! it will
kill me.”

“ It will do neither him nor ourself good to
take on in that way," said Mol y. “I tell you
there is plenty of time yet—trust me. I will do-
vise a wayto rescue him. It only needs a. brave
heart and a determined will.”

“ Oh, Molly! don’t try to comfort me; not a
word ou say gives me comfort.”

Mol y held her fingers up and telegraphed the
one little word she had designed to force upon
the attention of the risoner.

“ Do you forget, she said, gently, “ that
Captain Paul has gone over to the American
army?”

Elsie shook her head. She forgot nothing,
she said; but that terrible impression remained
—a cloud covered her very soul, and she could
not see through it.

“ It is silver-lined, nevertheless," said Molly.

CHAPTER XII.
rHE BETRAYAL.

SOME ten or fifteen oflicers sat at supper. The
table was furnished with a splendid silver ser-
vice; glass and silver sparkled everywhere.
Lawyer Asbury always gave sumptuous enter-
tainments when he undertook anything of the
sort. He was a good German scholar—his wife
was of German descent; so there was no difficulty
on the score of conversation, save to poor little
Miss Lydia Lavoy, who padded, painted and fur-
bclowed, stretched her long lean neck hither
and thither, and opened her faded, lassy e as
to their widest extent, as it that won d help or
in the mysteries of High Dutch.‘

“ Does he mean me to take wine with him?”
she cried, excitedly, to her hostess, who was
babbling in an unintelligible language to her.

Mrs. Asbury nodded, and the poor passe belle
acknowledged the compliment by sundry shrugs
and nods, as she simperingly drank with a hand-
some young lieutenant.

“ I say, Asbury,” a middle-aged man who sat
near the center of the table called out, “ have
you heard the latest newsl"

“About what?” asked the lawyer, who was
disturbed in a tete-a—tete with General Rah],
and felt rather cross about it.

“ Wh , there has been a strange—looking Ger-
man pe dler about here for a day or two. Did
any of you see him?”

" I did,” volunteered Miss Lydia Lavoy. “ I
never heard of such prices 1”

“Who do on sgfpose they say he is?" ne-
ried the mid ie—ag man a sin, ' noring iss
Lavoy, whose tongue was :ac ' g rom its long
Confinement.

 

 

“How the deuce shouldI know?" answered
the lawyer.

“ Well, it’s pretty well understood that it was
Captain Paul Green, the Widow Green’s son,”
returned the middle-aged gentleman, who had
grown quite red in the face.

gig this time Mrs. Asbury had become inter-
es .

“ That accounts!" she exclaimed, exchanging
looks with Miss Lavoy.

“ Accounts ior what?” asked the lawyer, in
the tone he always assumed in addressing wo-
men.

“For the questions he asked. I saw him
talking to the servants the im rtinentLand
sent him off. But it is lmpossibe it could be
young Captain Paul Green, who is quite a hand-
some fellow, while this man was small, ugly,
and almost humpbacked.”

“ I have it from the best authority,” said the
middle-aged gentleman, who, now he had turn-
ed the attention of the whole table toward him-
self, was slowly subsiding from crimson to his
accustomed complexion.

“Pray, what did he question you about?"
asked the lawyer of his wife.

“About affairs of which I knew very little,
and, therefore, Icould not answer him. Miss
Layoy had a long talk with him, however.”

“ 1 am sure I hope you won’t think, gentle-
men, that 1 am in the habit of talking with
every chance peddler who comes along,” said
Miss Lavog, in considerable confusion, and ad-
dressing t e staring Hessians, as if they under-
stood ever word she was saying. “ I am not
sure that can quite recall what he did talk
about, though chiefly}, I think, it was the .0-
pic at Wale ngham ouse and Miss Elsne er-

non.

“What the deuce had he any business with
the name of my niece?” queried the lawyer, in
high dudgeon. “I wish I had heard him, I’d
have kicked him out of the house.”

Miss Lavo was tremblin now, for she real-
ly was afrai of Lawyer As ury.

‘f They say he got into camp, too,” continued
the delighted middle-aged gentleman.

“ In camp? Oh! no,” responded the Hessian
commander; “ our rules are very strict. No
wandering dlers allowed within the limits.”

“ He mos certainly did go there " continued
the unsus cting middle-aged gent eman “ for
I have a giman 'rl in my house who lmows
all about it, and eheld communication with
the condemned prisoner.”

“It is a liel’ ,
oath, for which be instantly, though hotly,
apologized. “Nobody meddles with m

ards; they know itis as much as their a
is worth."

The middle-aged gentleman prudently held
his tongue. '

“I assure you that the man they speak of is a
dare—devil," said the lawyer, under his breath,
to the general; “and what makes me think
that this rumor may be true, Is the significant
fact of his speaking of my niece, Miss Elsie
Vernon. It is not known by everybod , of
course, but happens to be by my wife an m -
self, that Miss ernon is engaged toLieuten-
ant-Colonel Washburn. I repeat, I should not

cried General Rabi, with an ‘

i.

16

Molly. the Girl Captain.

 

wonder if there is something in it, orif my
niece is at the bottom of the affair. Why, sir,
she is such a confounded rebel, that she left my
house for the house of that vagabond’s mother,
the Willow Green—she did, indeed, sir; and,
possibly, she may have seen the captain there——
in the guise of a peddler, of course—«and they
ttiiglether hatched some plan. She’s a deep

:- .

g Not once had Lawyer Asbury glanced toward
his guest as he sat making this ruinous s eech—~
ruinoustoall the hopes of the fair gir under
discussion. Mrs. Asbury did, however, and
wondered in her simple heart what the lawyer
was saying to make his guest frown and turn
pale like that——yes, actually pale, and gnaw his
yellow mustache.

“It’s frightful to see the man,” she said to
herself; “ what can he be saying to him?"

“So, so!” said the general, when he had found
his voice; 1“ so, 301”

Something strange in the accent induced the
lawyer to look up, and for the moment he was
appalled. The Hessian’s eye Seemed rimmed
with blood; a fierce and angry flush darkened
his features, and all but distorted his coun-

' tenauce. Two or three of his officers, who knew

that look, leaned back in consternation.

The general gulped down several glasses of
wine, picked u the table-cloth in an absent
wa , but in a ew moments had calmed him-

sel .

“ So the fair Miss Vernon is really enga ed to
mg 3 y!” be said, with an attempt at a augh,
w ic not his officers busy with the daintles be-
fore them again.

“ I have no doubt of it myself,” said the
lawyer, but his voice was not so even as it had
been. He began to wish the middle-aged gen-
tleman, who had volunteered the news, as far
down in the Atlantic Ocean as it was possible to
be deposited. There was something so cruel in
this suppressed passion of the man beside him.

“She will lose her lover," said the general.

“rWell-it will serve her right," responded the
lawyer. “ I have often told her she was no
niece of mine, supporting these rapscallions and
enemies of their ing. t will serve her right——
of course it will.”

“ Muehll, if we find our orders have been tam-
pered with," said the general to one of his col-
onels, “ the prisoner dies to-morrow.”

The lawyer‘s cheek turned a shade paler. At
that moment he felt ver much like a murderer.
Thebeautiful face of his niece seemed to stand

before him, pale and bathed in tears.

Meantime the Hessian commander was secret-
ly nursinv: his revenge. Now he saw through it
all. His teeth came together as he remembered
the interview, or what was scarcely that, be-
twe’en the prisoner and his fair charge.

_ ‘_‘ By Heaven! he shall be hung to—morrow, at
sundown," he muttered to himself, and Lawyer
Asbury heard it. For the first time in his life
he felt something like remorse.

The dinner went off rather soberly, after
that, for the general could not rally from the
blow that had so unwittingly been given him.
He grew moody and reticent. His nature had
in it all the elements of revenge; and, surely. if
anything could work them up, it was the feeling

I

 

that he had been duped, in connection with the
violent passion he felt for the beautiful Elsie
whose charms had nearly turned his head, and
quite conquered his heart.

After dinner there were cards. and a. little
music, and a little, nay, considerable, scandal.
Miss- Lydia. Lavoy, remembering her belleship
of. many, many years ago, tried to flirt with one
and another—those who knew some little of
English preferred.

‘ You like this country!" she asked of a red-
faced. shock-headed German, whose hair took a
tinge many shades more fiery than that of an
individual resent, and who had a habit of sen -
ing it stan ing all ways by thrusting his hand
through itlengthwise, and crosswise, and other—
Wise.

“ Yeas—I likes it mooch as if dar' vas no
show,” he replied, with a cheerful shove through
the flame above mentioned.

“ You don’t like snow,” said Miss Lydia.

“ Nix.” and he shook his head almost fero-
ciously. “ And I likes not de beeples.”

“ The beeples—heeples,” muttered Miss Lavoy,
inquirin 1y. “Might you mean—"

“ De gecples, yaw—dab ish it, vat you huf’
for kings—you call dem,” he put in. “I no
likes dem, not mueh—dey is not goot fighters,
I no t’inks. Dey ish not got nniforms—not’ing
at all, vat you would call like soldiers. Nix.
not like do beeples—de—beeples of dis coontrie.”

“ Have you ever been to Lady Walsing-
ham’s?”

He shook his head.

“ Don’t you think our ladies are handsome?”

“ Ah!" he smiled most graciously waving his
hand in a graceful manner, “ de—cideedlees!

Mrs. Asbury was, meantime, arranging the
table for cards, and making herself very agree-
able, while her Tory husband followed the gen-
eral, that he might find a chance to speak to
him in private.

“ Would it please you to smoke, general?”
asked Asbur ,as at last he cornered him. “I
have some, ne cigars imported ex ressly, and
the smoking-room is quite private. f you pre-
fer it there are pipes at your service.”

The general thought he would smoke. As-
bury mug and ordered some punch or other
exhilarating beverage. and then escorted the
general to a beautiful little a rtment, fitted up
quite in oriental style, the angings and fur—
niture of which had been imported. Here were
pipes and cigars—smoking caps and slippers
“pouches of tobacco—a tray, decanter and

losses, everything to please the fancy and min-
ister to the taste.

The general sat down but he seemed ill at ease.
He tried a cigar and then a pipe, but seemed
little satisfied with either. A tor frowning and
making some little preliminary speech, be ex—
claimer :

“ So Miss Vernon is your niece.” .

“I regret to answer, yes,” replied the lawyer.

“ And a rebel."

“ I regret to answer to that, also. yes.”

“ Pray h0w does it come that she is with Indy
Walsinghaml She does not seem to be affected
by the notions of the common ’people.” ‘

“ I really cannot tell you, said the law or,
“ what are her reasons, or what are Lady al-

4'"

 

' I.
1'

 

 

 

is
[i
':: i

 

 

 

 

"x 4 .s...

'5
L
n

 

 

Molly, the Girl Captain. 7 ,1?

 

singham’s intentions. Indeed, I have scarcely
thou ht of her at all. She was very violent,
and dismissed her from my mind.”

“ She is an orphan?” queried the general,
puffing fiercely.

“ Yes, general. As I have said, she was en-
gaged—the—matter may be broken off—I’m not
certain.”

“ It is not likely to be broken off since she
was there to see him,” returned the general.

“ What! the prisoner?"

“ The prisoner,” was the sharp reply.

“ But—I don’t understand.”

“ Through courtesy, of course. Your charm—
ing niece pretended to be a royalist, and I ad-
mitted her to the—place of impiisonment.”

“ Just like her,” muttered her uncle, “and
that little plotter they call Molly was with her,
most likely.”

“Yes, she was with her.”

“ A cunning, pert little piece, the daughter of
a farmer, who, to do him justice, is loyal. I
wonder Lady Walsingham could consent to take
her into service, for, after all, it comes to that.
The little wretch is pretty, you see, and smart,
so that my sister is taken with her, and allows
her to do anything. But, general—I think we
understand each other.”

“What the deuce do you mean?” ueried Gen—
eral Rah], with some asperity, not ing in the
best of humors.

“ Elsie. though an obstinate girl, is possibly
an ambitious one.”

The general listened, moodily, as before.

“ I think I could bring her round.”

“ Ahl” ejaculated the general, yet looking
more animated.

“ If you are particularly interested in her—
why_n

“ I am particularly interested in her,” said
the general. “ I am very much interested in
Miss Vernon, or was. I would have Miss Ver-
non my wife. But, she has acted with double
dealing—with treachery worthy of a rebel. I
am disappointed-very much disappointed,” and
the German puffed yet more furiously. ’

“ Never give up,” said the lawyer, whose spir-
its rose at this declaration, “ women change
their minds; they only want to be followed up.”

The general shook his head;

“ Miss Vernon has been guilty of duplicity as
I said before.”

“ Because she considered you her enemy."

“ Because she loved that condemned rebel,"
and the general bit at his cigar. furionsly.

“Because it was very romantic,” said the

lawyer. “Depend upon it, a woman‘s heart
must be taken by storm—she must be followed,
pursued, if you please. This fellowmay be made
to act an important part.”

“ ! by releasing him?”

“ o—by layin upon her fears. If you
will do as say— will do as you wish. Her
,wish will be to have the sentence commuted—

, don’t you see! She’s a he ndsome girl, is Elsie."

“And you are a lawyer,” laughed the general,
who had evidently taken heart. “Yes, yes,
Miss Vernon is very beautiful. I believe I’ll
think over your advice. But I oonfessl was
savage when you first intimated this matter
about the officer under arrest. I felt as if I had

 

 

been ill-used, and am not half sure yet but that
I was. However, we will say no more about it.
I am much obliged to you for your interest—
partieyularly as you have given me renewed
ho c.

. eeing things under a more cheerful aspect,
the general began to notice the really beautiful
apartment, and soon entered into a discussion
upon the comparative merits of German and
English ideas of comfort. When they descended
to the parlors, several of the olficers had gone,
but Miss Lydia had cont-rived to keep the fiery-
heafied lieutenant at her side—much against his
w1 .

 

CHAPTER XIII.
ran ansmononn’s CALL

A GRAY, gloomy day. Even Lady Walsing-
ham caught the infection of dullness, and sat
yawning, while Molly read to her. The room
was what at Walsingham House was called the
reading-room. It was lined very cozin with
red, the furniture being of the same material
and color.

Elsie sat knitting some ornamentalcovering
for the head. In the next room certain dress—
makers were very busy with rich fabrics, and
the cheerful hum of their voices could now and
then be heard.

Elsie never looked so charming, albeit the
color had faded from cheeks and lips. A cer-
tain suppressed pain in the lovely face only
added to the interest of her appearance.

“ What a terrlble day l” cried Lady I’Valsing—
ham, suddenly. “ Throw down that book,
Molly—it’s very tiresome. Not that you don’t
read well, my dear, but it’s insuiferahly dull._
Oh,- mel I wish somebody would come and
bring some news."

“ You’re likely to have the first part of your
wish, aunt," said Elsie, “ for I think I see the,
Asbury carriage. Perhaps it's Aunt Emma.”

“ I don’t care who it is; anybody will be wel-
come to—day,” said Lady Walsingham, implying
broadly her aversion to the lawyer’s wife.

The carriage stopped at the gate—something
in the likeness of a woman got out and hurried
up to the door, the coachman holding an um—
brella as she walked. .

“U on my word, it’s Miss Lydia Lavoyl”
cried lsie, half laughing.

“Mcrcyl” was the startled exclamation of
Lady Walsingharn. “What can the creature
want?”

“ Oh, but, aunt, you said anybody would be
welcome.”

“ She's nobody,” returned the lady pettisbly.
“Molly, you'll have to go and see to her, I sup-

Molly stirred, not reluctantly. for she was not
un willing tosee and hear something of this small
piece of affected humanity; and in a few mo-

-ments returned, with the prinking, smiling dam—

sel of fifty, who, with a youthful step and child-
ish levity of manner, approached Lady Wal-
singham. "

“You know I’ve been threatening," she said,
playfully, shaking the lace handkerchief she
carried—“ I threatened to come and stay with
you awhole day. And, dear Lady Walsingham,
if there’s anything I can do, pray set me to work. ,

 

 

 

18

Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

I’m very handy, and my friends are pleased to
commend my taste. My charming Miss Elsie,
and how are you today?” she cried, tripping up
to that young lady and holding out a withered
hand, that was still very small and white.
“ And oh! my deai‘s, I’ve such news!”

So saying, she threw herself down on a great
chair which Molly had placed for her, and to-
tally ignored, by her luxurious position, all idea
of the work she had asked for.

“Well, you must know, my dear friend, Law-
yer Ashury ave a. dinner-party yesterday.”

“Oh! we new of that,” said Lady Walsing—

ham.

“Ve true; I don’t doubt it. It was a din-
ner exc usively for gentlemen, you see, and a
very grand affair. I must say that Mr. Asbury
understands howto give an entertainment of
that kind the best of anybody it was ever my
good—fortune to know. Bless me! what a. splen-

did thing I”

' This exclamation was called forth by the
entrance of a dress of crimson velvet, with a
dressmaker behind it, and quite hidden by its
broad folds. Lady Walsinghain dispatched it
as soon as ssible, and then composed herself
to listen. .lsie was sitting now, with hands
crossed on her lap, her eyes fixed on vacancy, or,
at any rate, not appearing to see any object be-
fore her.

“ Well, you must know the general and his
staff were present—bless me! nothing more nor
less than a knot of stupid fellows, that is, to me,
who could talk no German, and only sit and
look on. Besides, what was there to hinder me
from making awkward mistakes?

“Well, presently, do you think, somebody
broached the idea that Captain Paul Green—-
that widow’s son, you know—had been seen
about. Mercy, child!” she added, addressing
Molly, how you jum d i"

“ Did I?" asked Molly, demurely.
der; I pricked my finger."

By this time Elsie had laid down her sewing,

“ No won-

» ' and was gazing no longer on vacancy, but at

the little painted atomy, with a strange expres-
sion in her dark eyes.

“Yes; they declared that he was about as a
spy, in a peddler's dress, and if it was him, I
saw him, and, what is more, bought some of his
trinkets. I thought he made himself uncom-

. monly free with the names of people hereabouts
-—particularly yours, Miss Elsie."
‘Minel” echoed Elsie. faintly.
“ Yes; and then the same guest declared that
‘ the peddler, or captain. or whatever he was, had
been in camp, meddling with the prisoner, and
you should have seen that Hessiaii’s face
as he thundered "No!" But, the man insisted,
and then Lawyer Asbury told some story or
other to the general. Byvand-by he cried, with
a clinched hand:

“ If we find our orders have been tampered
with, the prisoner dies to-mormwl"

A deathlike stillness succeeded this communi-
cation. Elsie sat erect, like a piece of white
marble. Molly bad"‘turned her head away; her
arms hung lifeless.

“ To-morrow—to-morrowl why that means
to—day I”

It was the voice of Elsie; but it sounded so

unnatural and for off, that even Miss Lavoy
started at its ghost-like echoes.

“ Oh, Miss Elsie!” cried Molly, a piercing
anguish in her voice, “could they have hung
him this morning?”

“ God knows!" was the reply, in that still
sepiilchral voice.

Molly gave a. wild sob; Lady Walsingham
frowned.

“See how you have set these two children off
with your improbable stories!” she exclaimed,
in real anger. “ I don't believe a word of it,
Elsie—that is—perdon nie, Miss Lavoy, I think
you.misunderstood.”

“ I will pardon you because I believe I have
hurt and frightened you all: but I am not used
tohave my word doubted. I tell you I heard ex-
actly what he said; and then, after that. I dis-
tinctly understood him to exclaim, ‘ He shall be
hung to-morrow, at sundownl’ I am sure who
he meant, and I know by his face he will do as
he said." ‘

“ Elsie has fainted l” screamed Molly, rising
up, wrin ing her hands. I

“'No, have not fainted," said Elsie, speaking
with difficulty. “ Excuse ine—I—find I must
leave you.”

She arose, and, leaning on Molly’s arm,
dragged herself from the room.

“ I am very sorry you should have told that
dreadful story," said Lady Walsingham. “ I
believe my niece had a particular interest in
Lieutenant—Colonel W’ashburn. It is an awful
death to think of.”

“ But, indeed, I only took it as a piece of
news,“ returned Miss Lydia, bridling. “ I
think, if I am to be considered a bird of ill—
omen, I had bettnr go back, and [would if I had
not ordered Tapley to come after me at five.”

“ Oh, there is no necessity of that," returned
Lady Walsingham; “you are very welcome—
only I don’t like to think of that poor man."

“ Pray don‘t think of him, then. But, my
dear friend, I believe I made a conquest last
night. I really believe I did.”

“ Ahl you have made a, great many conquests
in your life, I suppose.”

“ IndeedI have, Lady Walsingham,”refurned
Miss Lydia, hridling, “ although I never took
advantage of them. I may say my conquests
have been too numerous to remember. I never
shall forget the deer, fat old count, when we
were at Marseilles. You should have seemhim

0 down on his knees to me, and me bovine to

elp him—the ridiculousness of the ofl’airl But,
then, perhaps you never knew that I did come
-very neat getting married once.”

“ No, indeed; I never heard of that.”

“ Of course not, for it was years ago; but I
did. He was the handsome man for one to see.
He pretended to have immense estates, and was
so rich, and he presented me with diamonds and
precious stones, and my trousseau was all
ready, real point-loco, and everything to match
—real orange-flowers, too—nothing sham; and
the cake was made, the wine ordered, the cards
out, the bridesmaids all came from long 'our-
neys—fourteeii of them—the presents rea y to
display—and oh, dear! it really makes me faint
to think of it.”

 

“ Did he play bo-peep, and get locked up in a

I .

, I

 

“e,

 

 

Molly, the Girl Captain.

19

 

{nerd—chest?” laughed Lady Walsingham, indo-
entlv.

“ No; I wish he had, for there would have
been an end of it, and an honorable death in the
bargain. No, no," and she shook her head pa-
thetically ‘ “ my father found him out.”

“ Found him out!"

“ Yes; and what do you think he was?”

“ Some nobleman’s valet, passing himself of!
for the real thing?"

“ Oh, dear! no. He was a peddler-a miser»
able peddler, and all the diamonds were paste;
and you can’t think how that fellow who came
to our house the other day reminded me of him.
I couldn’t resist the temptation of talking to
(him, it recalled so vividly the memories of past

ays.

“ From that time I dare say on have voted
all men deceivers," said Lady alsingham, re-
pressing a yawn.

“ Yes, yes, there are so many looking after a
little fortune you see, that it has made me shy.
But, Lady alain ham, don’t laugh it 1 tell you
thatIreall‘y did 11 e that-«that fellow—audit
they hadn t driven him out of town, I might
have been just romantic enough to run away
with him. Ohl he did have such eyes!”

“ Handsome as your new conquest last
night?” Lad Walsingham did not conceal her
yawn now. he do was dark, Elsie had gone
away in sorrow, an the monotonous, affected
voice of Miss Lydia gave her the blues.

“ Handsome! laws me; did you ever see a
handsome German?" ”

“ Galas. egg {sixty of them, was the reply.

Miss Lydia shook her head.

“Not to my liking. Dear, dear, who is that
laughing so?”

“ The servants, I think,” said Lady Walsing-
ham, listening.

At that moment one of the girls came in with
a pane, which Lady Walsingham read and put
an e.

“ What are they laughing at, down in the

hall?” she asked.

“ A fortune-teller,” replied the girl, on a
broad rin.

“ A ermine-teller!”

“ Yes, sure. It‘s an old man cameto the gate
askin’ for bread or some’at to eat. 80 he said—
would we like to have our fortunes told! And
cook said she'd give him some dinner for it. So
he’s been at it, mum.”

“ An, ideal" cried Lad Walsingham; ‘f just
the thing for this horri le day! Tell him to
come up. You have no objections, Miss Lydia?”

“ La! not—I’m sure," was the nervous reply.
And the girl was dispatched below With orders
to brin up the fortuneteller.

The oor opened, and there entered a man of
a somewhat suspicious ap rance, looking
about him as if astonished to nd himself in the
midst of such splendors and luxuries. An old
man, with keen, bright eyes, lon , grizzled locks,
and dressed in a faded blueb ones and brown
browsers.

“ So on tel] fortunes, my good man?” said
Lady alsingham.

“ Not much need to tell your fox-time, my
lady,” was his reply.

i “ And why?”

“ You carry it in your face, my lady,” with
an admiring look.

“ Oh, nonsense!” But she flushed, and seemed
pleased. “ Well, how is it done? Do I cross
your hand with silver? Or do you tell by my
hand and then I pay you.”

" I will see your hand." She held it out.

“ Ah! fortune here and be end the sea; a
marriage with one you love. otrouble—every
figppipess. He will be tall, with black eyes and

1r

‘: rind my fortune?” cried Miss Lydia, with a
sum .

“ Ah! he is coming,” laughed the man. “ He
is not tall; he has light hair and he loves you
very much. Riches, of course."

“ Marly ” said Lady Walsingham to the girl,
who stil lingered at the door. “ tell Miss Elsie
and little Molly I want them.”

Only Molly came, distress in her face—came
to excuse Elsie and herself. 0n the instant, see-
ing the peddler, a strange light brightened her
face—an expression she tried to control and
darken. Her lips trembled; she seemed unde—
cided.

“And your fortune," said the voice; “hold
your hand out.”

She obeyed, impassively.

“ It is all coming right !” said the old man,
looking her steadily in the eye—“ everything.
Do you understand? There is trouble, here but
it will be lightened, soon. You are feelin had,
thinking somebody is going to die; he will not
die, if it is a man‘she will not die if it is a
woman.” .

Molly felt herself growing strong, takinghope.
She knew who was under this disguise—knew
what the vague words meant, and running laugh-
ing up—stairs, while Lady Walsingham paid the
man, she cried, h ysterically. bursting into Elsie’s
presence:

“ I have seen Paul, and Paul will save him i”
But Elsie would not. be comforted. “But I have
seen Paul; I knew him in a moment. Be sure
he has heard all about it."

“ No, never, that he is to be hung so soon.
Don’t speak to me, Molly; I shall go distracted,
I know I shall.”

"' But I know Paul will do something,” said
Molly, half-beside herself at the frantic way
Elsie went on.

“ Don’t say Paul to me again,” retorted Elsie.
“You must be out of your head. If it had not
been for him, this never would have happened.
Remember it was his going there and being found
out about it that incensed General Rabi.
Don’t speak of it again-don’t mention Paul’s
name.” .

Molly felt hurt, but fox-bore to comfort her
for a long time, knowing that it was grief made
her seem unkind.

CHAPTER XIV.

rm: SACRIFICE. '

“OHl Miss Elsie, indeed, you must not 've

way so; it may not be true,” cried Molly, w an
Elsie began mourning again.

“ It is true, Molly. Oh! my God! it is true!

My uncle must have told him all. He would

have felta particular delight in doing me an

 

       

20 Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

injury of that kind. Oh! how cruel! how cruel!
Molly, I have taken my last look at him. His
noble face, so pale, so accusing will haunt me
forever. Oh! that cruel, cruel IIessiaii!’

Els1e had thrown herself, in very agony, on
the floor, by the bedside, and lay crouched
there, white and tearless. She had not heard
Miss stoy’s correction, that the soldier was to
be hung at sunset, for at that instant she had
near] fainted.

“ oily, I doubt not he lies dead even now,
stretched on some cold floor. Oh! the thought
distracts me! Why could I not have known?
Could not some goid and pitying angel have
told me in my dreams? I Would have tried
to see this wicked general. I would have bogged
the boon of his life on my knees. Molly, I
would have sold myself for him. On! I would!
I wouldl”

E‘Miss Elsie, you don’t know what you are
saying,” groaned Molly.

“I worshiped him so—I worshiped him sol
God forgive me, he was my idol; and even then
he did not seem half so dear to me till now. Oh!
my lovel my lovel—-my dead, dead love!”

“Miss Elsie, ohl what can I say to comfort
you?” walled Molly, at her wits‘ end with sym—
pathy and grief.

“ Nothing, nothing; don’t try. Let me mourn
by myself—let me die. 1ndeed,I cannot sup~
port this burden and live."

“How do you know he is not living?” asked
Molly.

“ How do I know? You heard her say your-
self that he was to be hung to-morrow. How
gratify his base purposes better than by putting
him out of the way as soon as possiblol"

“If she did, so I heard her say that he
spoke again, and declared he should be hun: at
sunset. You were faint, perhaps, and didn’t
hear."

“ I was faint one moment. Everythin seem»
ed passing from me—her voice and a1. Ohl
are on sure she said that?"

“ are,” repeated Molly.

“ Then there is some hope.”

“ Yes, while there is life,” replied Molly.

“ What shall we do?" and Elsie lifted herself

from the floor. “Something must be done.
What shall we do, Molly l”
“ I wish I knew what to advise,” said Molly;

“ but do you know, I think he dare not do such .

a thing.”

“ Ohl darling, these Heasians know no mercy.
How can you think it? I cannot help seeing
from this man’s actions what he thinks of
me; and, God forgive me, I have led. him
on, I fear, hoping that I might help him.
Now, Jealousy is added to his other base
pensions. Till sunset,” she added, “till sunset.
Oh! the prectous hours! they must notbe lost!
We must manage to get to the camp, Molly -we
must see the general; suspense will kill me. He
must not die!” she cried, with passionate fervor.
“ Oh! my Godl this once grant me his life l”

A servant knocked.

“My lady‘s compliments,” she said, with a
low courtesy: “ General Rahl is below stairs.”

“ Is not your prayer almost answered ?” cried
Molly, the tears in or bright eyes, as the girl
went out.

 

“ Oh! it looks like it. Yes, he has come and
we did not hear,” continued Elsie, going to the
window. “ There is his horse. I must see him
alone. Oh! how shall [plead 1—Whatshall I say?"

“ Don’t fear, my dear Miss Elsie," whispered
Molly. “ The words will come; let me help
you. What are you doing?”

“ Looking for another dress," was the reply,
with a haggard smile. “ I wish to uppoar my
best before this awful Hessian. Am I very pale?
How shall I hide the traces of tears?”

“ They'll all be gone before you go down.
There, now, I’m sure I should never know. It’s
a dark day, you see, and there’s no great light
comes in those windows, with the curtains down.
God help you, my dear MISS Elsie; I’ll pray for
you every minute.

Elsie went down slowly, very slowly, won-
dering whether her aunt was there, and if she
could command herself sufficiently to control
her emotions if there should be no ho .

General Rahl met her, suave an bland, as
usual. If he noticed the trembling of her hand
he did not appear to, and she suppressed the
loathing his presence occasioned.

The conversation, in the beginning, was on
ordinary topics. Not the first time that the
mere praise or blame of a day has covereda
heart-break.

“Miss Elsie, I have come on a strange er-
rand,” at last spoke the Hessian.

Elsie’s pulses were flying now.

“ We may not have a rent while to stay
here," he went on, “as Sir illiam Howe is ex-
pected soon, with fresh troops, and that will
necessitate a movement on our part. We shall
hem the American Army in and crush this re-
bellion before another spring.”

Everything now was subordinate in the mind 3

of Elsie to the eflort she wished to make'for the
life of young Washburn, or she would have
sprung indignantly from her seat and hurled her
defiance upon the enemy of her country.

“Miss Elsie I have never seen the Woman
yet to whom I could to truly say, ‘ I love you,’
as to you.”

Elsie was silent; her eyes were downcast: her
soul was in array against every word he uttered.

“ General Rahl,” she said, “I will be frank
with you; my heart is no longer in my own
keeping.” '

“Ah! it was true, then,” he muttered, his
heavy brows coming together. “And I, Miss
Elsie, will be equally frank with you; you are
affinnced to a condemned criminal. ’

Her eyes shot fire.

“ To a hero, who will die a martyr anda
patriotl" she cried, all the love of country up—
permost at that moment. _

“ I have to wish you a good-morning," he
said, and there was either actual sorrow or a
sneer in his deep voice.

“Oh! General Rahl!”—she stood before him.
barring his progress, beautiful and in tears.
He aused.

“ on will not be so cruel.” she cried; “he
never injured you. Oh! if you love me, as you
any, you will never be so cruel.”

“ I can and will be—not creek—but just. The
man has friends who may have been in com-
munication with him. He must die.”

 

    

  

 

 

 

 
 
  

  

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Molly, the Girl Captain. 21

 

These words he said almost savagely, and as
if between his closed teeth.

“ What can I do to save him!" she cried,
wringing her hands. “ What can I do, General
Rahli’7—and she made a motion as if to fall upon
her knees, but he saved her the humiliation, by

~ leading her almost forcing. to a seat.

“ I pit your anguish,
lover is oomed.”

“ Who told you he was my lover?" she cried.

“ Do you deny it?" and he looked her steadily
in the face.

" General Rabi—you are very cruel.”

“So you have said, once before: but it rests
with you entirely. I make this concession in
pity to your feelings. Whether this renegade is
your lover or not—it rests with you whether

9 iihung in eight hours, at the setting of the
s

155 Vernon, but your

un.

"With me?" cried Elsie, staring at him
vaguely.

“ Entirel with you. I have told you that I
loyée you. 1' you wish to save him, become my
m e

“ Now—so soon? I am bewildered; you can-
not say now.”

“Not this moment, certainly, as I am a con-
stant churchmen, and no preparations have been
made. But soon, certain y.

“And that will save him?”

h." ”pledge my honor as a soldier that will save
im.

“You will not hang him at all?"

“ He shall not be him .”

“ But soon, on say— ow soon?”

“I should li e it to be on Christmas night, at
this party of your aunt’s.”

“ No, no,” and she almost gasped, “ not on
Christmas night. My father died of a Christ—
mas night—my only sister died on Christmas
night—no, no—-not then ;" she shuddered as she
spoke.

“ The next day”——he pleaded.

She caught at the respite.

“ It is so soon—and I am so unprepared!”

“ You need make no extra preparations—your-
self is all I want. Am I answered?"

“ And LieutenautrColonel Washburn goes
free?" she queried tremblingly. .

“ I did not say that—I sai he should not be

hun ."
“ 5r shot?”

“ Miss Vernon, you press me close,” he said,
after a pause; “ do you doubt my word of honor
as a soldier?" .

He had turned pale.

“ You have said so often that, by the rules of
war, a spy must die—not that I cons1der that
he is a s ,‘" she added, a little haughtily.

“ Andpgave I not also said that the pardoning
power lies with the commanderoln-chiel'?”

“ But you have not told me he shall not be
shot,” said Elsie. calmly. I _

Fora moment a glance of rage kindled his
eye. He seemed to reflect. . _

“ Since you doubt my sincerity, Miss Vernon,"
he said again, “ I tell you he shall be neither
hung nor shot. Is that suflicienti” .

“ It is,” said Elsie, who felt herself growmg
cold as he drew near her. ’ .

“And I may depend upon your promise?”

 

She drew herself up proudly.

“ I shall neither run away, nor take poison,
general,” she said, with a firm voice. ” If you
are willing to wed me after the assurance I
have given you, I shall fulfill my promise if you
come for me on the day after Christmas."

“ I certainly shall come,” was his response.
“ Farewell.”

He had the good sense not to kiss her as they
parted.

Molly met Elsie at the head of the stairs.

“ Has it ended well?” she asked.

“ We shall see," was the cold response.

“ Ohl Elsie, what has happened? What
makes you so calm and so cold 1”

“ I am cold," said Elsie, shivering. “ Lead
me in——I believe I have almost lost my
strength.”

Molly led her to the fire.

“ It is very foolish, but I believe my teeth are
chattering,” said Elsie, with an attempt at a

laugh.
“ Oh! Elsie, you frighten me!” cried Molly '

with a shudder.

“ Don’t be foolish, Molly: you ought to re-
joice—I have saved him!”

“Saved him! But, good Father! how white
you look—there—I won‘t say another word if it
distresses you.”

“ I’m to be married the day after Christmas,
Molly-wish the joy 1”

“0h! Elsie—I’m crying instead. Not till the
da after Christmas?" she suddenly exclaimed.
“ lw,hallelujahl”

“ by, what is the matter with you?” and
Elsie turned with some interest in her hitherto
passive face.

“Matter with me—why! you’re both saved,
to be sure. Isn’t it on Christmas night I’m to
carry out my little plan? To be sure it is.
After Christmas—thank God on your knees that
it's not before."

Elsie shook her head.

“ I don’t see anything in it, Molly: I don’t
see anything but sacrifice, and then, perhaps,
death.‘

-‘ Enoh !” cried Molly, with energy—“ sacrifice
and death. Nonsense! 1 tell you there’s no
danger that my plan will go Wrong; on] try to
be cheerful—try to believe in me. ’ve not
quite erfected my little plot, but it’s a cod

one. ow, depend upon it—you’ll be 3. -

Washburn before you’re Mrs. Rah]. Mrs. Rabi
—pahl what a name! It never shall fit you,
that I’m determined on."

Elsie could but take courage from the energy
with which little Molly discussed her plans.
After all, matters were not as bad as they might
be. Sunset would not see the body of him she
loved dangling like a common felon from a tree;
and, by Christmas, something might ensue to
prevent the dreaded consummation.

“ It is the best thing that ever he pened, that
poor old spinster coming here t ay." contin-
ued Molly. “ Suppose you had not heard the
news?"

“Heaven knows what might have been the
consequences !”

“ And so do 1!” cried Molly, partly. “ Mr.
Hessian would have been snubbed, and have
gone home with a death-warrant in his eyes,

head i. 1” A

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22 Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

while you’d have been none the wiser. I‘m
going ,down to cosset that old maid, out of grati-
tudel’

 

CHAPTER XV.
CAPTAIN PAUL’S ausn.

“ AFTER incredible hardships, mother, here I
am; make the most of me, for I shall only stay
to night.”

The speaker‘s garb and the speaker’s voice
seemed strangely incongruous. The one was
firm, cheerful, youthful—theother decrepit, care-
lesa, and more like a beggar than anything that
had a home.

The man stood in the midst of the large
room. Every curtain was down, every shutter
shut, the doorway was locked; extra precau-
tions had been taken, so that the widow’s
house, standing out there that bleak night,
amidst the bare, skeleton-like trees, seemed quite
deserted.

y In the middle of the room stood a table cov-

ered with a snow-white cloth, and set with
ancient china, which the widow’s sailor-hus-
band had brought home years ago. Honey in
the center; Wheaten loaf next; yellow butter;
crisp, whitish crullers. Well-cooked and cut
hem, and now the wid0w’s woman came out
of the kitchen, bearing a tea-urn and hot bis-
cuit.

“ You used to scold me for being such a mim«
ic,” continued the figure, lifting a bunch of griz-
zled hair from his head, to which was attached,
somehow, a string of false beard, “ but you see
it has served me in good stead. Remember how
I used to take you ofl, Hannah?" he queried,
turning to the woman, who was smiling at his
odd appearance.

“ Don’t I?" was her response; “and how I
tried to pay you for it, many‘s the time.”

He laughed heartily at the recollection of his
boyish scrapes. and soon stood before them-
Paul Green—a handsome, stalwart, and yetlithe
young man.

“Ah, the scrapes are not quite ended yet,”
said the widow, sighing and smiling; “ no know.
ing what they wil bring thee to yet.” A

“ To honor, mother mine. You should have
seen Washington when be thanked me! Why,
there was promotion in the Very curve of his

,glgsi ” I'll be lieutenantcolonel yet, please
" l

“ And how does Washington stand it?“ asked
the widow.

“As nobcdy but himself could,” was the
reply. “ Trouble doesn’t seem to wear him down
in flesh. His eye is as calm, and his counte—
nance as genial as ever. He’s a trump, is our
general!”

“ And how does he think the war is gping?"

“ Oh, he is always hopeful, though he doesn’t
say much. There’s no doubt but we’ll pull
through, and drive these scurvy fellows from
our shores. But oh! the poor soldiers! I wish
I was rich, mother.”

“Ah! 3 many of us wish that, but wishing
does no good. It seems sad to think that most
of the wealth is on the side of our enemy.
There’s Lawyer Asbury, rolling in riches, the

ing thousands, perha s, while our poor sol-

diers rish of cold. ndeed do I wish I were

rich, ut alas! as I said before, wishing does no

good! But sit down, child, and take some sup-
r. '

The child~somewhere near six feet, and of

even more inclined to talk than to eat.

“ What’s become of thy appetite?" asked his
mother.

“ Why, to tell the truth, I do believe I’m not

hungr ,” he said, leisurely butterin his bread,
“for took a late dinner up at alsingham
House.”

Both Mrs. Green and Mrs. Green's woman
stared at him, after this speech; the latter, ale
ways privileged in the parlor, knitting away at
the side of the fire.

“ What do you mean, my son?” asked Widow
Green.

“ I mean what I say; I was at the Walsing-
bum House, and the cook gave me some dinner
for telling the maids’ fortunes.”

“Now if I ever!” cried the pleased sewing—
woman, rapturously holding forward the stock-
ingr she was busy in on.

‘ But what for t e 5'”

“Oh! I had a purpose," said Captain Paul,
blushing a little.

“ To see the girl, of course,” said Widow
Green’s woman, noddinng

“Yes, partly that. other, what apretty
little thing Molly is; don’t you think so?”

“ Well, middling," said the widow, gravely.

“ 0h! now, mother, be honest; say that she
is almost as handsome, though without her
grand way, as Miss Elsie herself.”

“ A pretty thing—a pretty thing ” said Widow
Green’s woman, nodding again. ‘ But, Ishould
think you would be afraid of being caught.”

“ Not much ' though there‘s a rope ready for
me, saying I should be. Now, mother, none of
that,” for the old lad had put her apron to her
eyes. “ Wait till it a pens before you cry for
me, and when it does, ’11 give you full leave.
But that'll never be. I can outrun the ‘swift
gazelle’ himself, and cheat the—well, I won’t
say who, before present company. But, I tell
you, I rather like Lady Walsingham, enemy or
no enemy. She has such a wholesome, natural
way of doing things; and then, she’s so kind to
Molly. You’d better believe that I had a good
time to-day, and made two or three dollars in
the bargain— Hark i"

“ What is it?” cried Widow Green, while her
woman started to her feet, looking fiercely
about.

“Nothing; only I fancied I heard steps—not
likely, though. And such fortunes as gave
them! I wonder if any of them will ever come
true?”

“ But what else did you do?"

“ Told Lady Walsingbam’s fortune.”

“Oh! Paul, you didn't do that?"

“ Didn't I, though? And a right handsome
woman is Lady Walsingham. Beside her was a
small piece of antiquity, upon whom I almost
expected to find the label:

“ ‘Thle is a Mummy.’

 

say, and Lady Walsingham goini to give sue
a Christmas as never was given ere yet, cost-

I

For her I prophesied a. husbands-‘90!) soul:

proportionate breadth—sat down, but seemed ,

    
   
  
   
    
  
    
  
 
 
   
   
  
    
   
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
    

“swag”,  

 

 

 

 

Molly, the Girl Captain. 28

 

and she looked as pleased as could be. Then
breathing a parting warning into Molly’s ear,
bless her bright eyes! what I specially went
there for—I came away.”

“ Oh, Paul, it seems to ‘me as if you put your
life in danger for such trifling things!”

“Not trifling to me, mother. I thought I
heard steps again—close against the windows,”
he said, speaking in a lower voice.

“Oh, only son, it they should suspectl—these
dreadful essian soldiers—they would kill us
all. Somebody told me the general heard that
you had been tampering with the prisoner, and
he is master mad With you.”

“ Who told you!”

“ I can’t say now-somebody at meeting the
other Sunda . I know it frightened me not a
little, and trembled in my shoes to see you
hereryto-night. Suppose we put out the can-
dles

“Nonsense!” he said, lifting the glass full of
honey, and spreading some over his bread.

“Mother, this tastes as it used to when I
was——” He paused a sin, turning his faceto
the closed window. ' hey were all silent and
fearful. He arose from his chair, went to the
window, put his ear against the inside shutter,
and shook his head threateningly, as he said:
“There’s somebody there; I’m not mistaken;
the ears of a good scout seldom are.”

“ Then we are lostl” cried Widow Green.

“ Nonsense!” cried her son.

“ I’ve courage plenty for myself, but none for
thee,” she said, again.

The captain stood in a listening attitude
against the shutter, while Miss Green‘s woman
stole softly into the outer room.

“ There are two or tthe of them,” whispered
the man.

“ Of whom?”

“ That I don’t know. They are going softly
round the west corner. The frost betrays them
thou h. Are you all fastened up?”

] “’fivery part; we went from gariet tocel-
ar

“Good; now, get me my razor. My beard
feels uncomforta is, what little there is of it.”

“ Your razor, Paul!" cried the widow, in a
frightened voice.

“ Yes, mother, and in a hurry,
in my mind.” ' _ .

She brought him the box containing his
razors, trembling and wondering._ He went
through the process deftly and nickly; then,
going to the fire he sought for a and coal, and
made a. dot on his right cheek,.changing his
eyebrows with the same material. Then he
parted his hair in the center and turned round
to his astonished mother.

“ Good gracious, Paul! you look like—3’

“ Get one of her caps, as quickly as you can,”
interrupted the captain. .

The widow started. The voice was as like
that of her sewing-woman as if it had been her-
self. Dimly she comprehended that her boy
was intending to bring his imitative powers in-
to requisition, for the purpose of deceivxug the
enemy, it, indeed, they were outside._ She
brought the cap, while her woman was still re-
connoitering, and he put it on, when his ap-
pearance was so exactly like the good stout

I’ve a plan

 

sewing-woman, with stair mole on the right
cheek, and heavy brows, that the Widow Green,
in spite of the formidable nature of the circum-
stances surrounding them, burat into a laugh
that, though she suppressed its hilarity, made
her sides ache.

Presently in came her woman, a bundle over
her arm. She held up her hands and raised her
eyebrows, but did not laugh.

“ It seems he has the same thoughtI have
myself,” she said. “ Here are some of my
clothes, and if my twin sister was alive, I’d say
that’s she. Now put them on; take my knit-
ting, which ou can do as readily as I can, un-
less you’ve orgotten, and sit down by the fire.
I’ll manage the rest.”

“ Then there is somebody outside?” said the
widow.

“ Ay; more than one somebody—three some
bodies—five somebodies, and one or two of ‘em
soldiers, with their yellow thiugumbobs on their
shoulders. I was bound to see, and the mercy
knows how long it took me to lift my window
as softly as could he, and then manage a.
crack in the shutter, so that they needn’t see.
They were talking in a whis r when I saw
them, and, Lord forgive me. if didn’t wish for
a. kittle o‘ boiling water, for I had a smart
chance to pour it right over 'em. It’s no doubt
they’ll break out soon, for they’ve likely tracked
him here, and more likely have heard him talk-
ing and laughing. Now, it he ain’t greatly
changed from what he used to be, he can mimic
me, looks and voice, enough to take my clothes
and jest slip ’em on. If they get boisterous,
and will come in, why I’ll let ’em in, or he will,
and when they’re safe in the house I’ll slip out
and go over to my son’s. It’s growing bitter

cold, and I guess they'll be glad of a warm fire, 7

after sneaking around there in the wind.”

“What, they come in and be right here? No,
no,” said the widow, tremblingl .

“ Don’t you be in the least a raid of me," re-
turned Captain Paul; “only you keep our
wits about on, mother, and I’ll be sure to ave
mine. I 1i e the fun hugely,” he added, tak-
ing up the bundle and preparing to go. “ If I
don’t fool the codgers, then there's no fool in
me. Aha!"

There came a knock at the door at that ino-
moment—a very quiet knock.

“ Their knuckles will get desperately cold,”
said Captain Paul, and hurried out to arm,
himself, while Hannah concealed the clothes
and disguise he had worn there, about her per5
son. “ Say nothing in answer to the raps et,"
he whispered through the door; “ make born
something hot."

This, also, Hannah had thought of, and was
now preparing over the fire. She also brought
gutthe table extra glasses, and a jug steaming

o .

Again the knock was repeated—this time
with more decision. A second Hannah now
stalked in, seated herself by the side of the fire—

lace, and caught up that damsel’s work, which
ay on 'a chair.

“ Not that I’m goin to let you spoil that,”
cried the reel Hanna ; and, going to the
drawer, she brought out the reveled half of a
stocking, changed the ueedles dexterously, and

/.

 

 

«no.

 

 

84 Molly. the Girl Captain.

 

he went to work nmid much suppressed laugh-
fer, for the sight was a ludicrous one whenever
the two Hannahs spoke to each other.

“ Let ’em rattle about for a while,” said the
real Widow Green’s WUIHHD; “ they'll git impa-
ti-int pretty soon, I guess, and then we’ll have
to_‘l!

A tremendous thumping at the front door
put an end to the sentence.

“ I’ll go up,” said Hannah.

So she went to the room above, made a great
noise at the shutters—delayed over raising the
window, and finally put her cup-frill out, as if
she feared that somebody might shoot her.

“ Who’s there?” she called. “ Who disturbs
two lone women at this time 0’ night?”

“ You must come down and let us in, good
woman,” said a Voice.

“ Don‘t good woman me—be off; this ain’t a
tavern.”

“ W e are very well aware of that,” said Law—
yer Asbury, who was the chief spokesman—
‘ but, let me tell you that our business admits
of no delay. There is an enemy of the king
hidden in this house, and we have warrants to
search it.”

“ Which of us two old women do you want?"
asked Hunnah, in a voice of scorn, determined
to prolong the interview as skillfully as she
could.

“Neither of you old women.
we’ll tell you who we do want.
pummeling here for an hour, now.”

“ It’s pretty business, I think, a-goinz about
frightening lone people such times as these.
How do I know but you’ll murder us all?"

“ If you keep us here much longer you‘ll be
sorry for it, old lady; so you had better hurry
before we break the door in."

“ Well, well, if you must, you must," replied

Let us in and
We’ve been

‘ Hannah, “ but, make allowance for age, if you

please; and rheumatiz—which I hope to the
racious the frost’ll give you,"‘she muttered,
aboriously pulling the window down, and clos-
in the shutters. ‘

Then she went down-stairs.

“ Now, honey," she said, addressing the cap-
tain. “make your best of me. I’ll steal out
while they’re all here—out of the side—door,
which, likely, they won’t think of. They’ll have
somebody at the back one I suppose. Do you go
to the front door with a candle and open it.

-, And remember that I’ve had a hard time open-

ing the winder np—stairs, and shettin’ it, and
that I’ve got the rheumaliz’ badly." Saying
this Hannah walked off in the dark and watched
her chance.

Captain Paul went to the door, and, after
many groanings and somo awkwardness, at last
opened it, when in flled five men, the lawyer
at their head. '

“ Laws now!" cried the psuedo-Hnnnnh,
“ what has the milingtery come to do here, this
hour 0’ night?”

“ To find a traitor and a spy, you witch you;
we've got him fast, too, I think, for let me tell
you we shall search the house, thoroughly.”

“ S‘arch and welcome,” was the reply;
"there’s nobody here but me and the mistress.
Me you have always known, Lawyer Asbury—

 

the mistress you has always known heretofore,
as a good woman and church-going.”

“ Hold your pulaver,” muttered the lawyer,
Shi‘ite Captain Paul made a grimace behind his

ac .

They went into the kitchen. where the widow,
outwardly calm, but inwardly in much pertur-
hation, sat knitting.

“ Widow, where is the fellow?” queried the
lawyer. “ We heard him talking, but now.”

“ What follow?” queried the widow, while
Hannah fell to mixing some hot spirits.

“ No need of feigning, old lady," returned the
lawyer, after sayingr something in German to
one of the soldiers, “he was followed here di-
rect to this door, and a guard put on so that
we are perfectly sure he has not gone out. You
had better confess.”

“ Here’s nobody but Hannah and I. You
may search the houseassoon as on please.”
The lawyer looked at her steadily. e was used
to reading countenances, and on hers he read
indifference.

“Well, we shall be obliged to search," he
said, nodding to the soldiers.

“ Have something hot?” asked Hannah, grat-
ing the nutmeg in a pitcher. '

“ Well, yes; the fellow can’t escape us now.
I don‘t care if I do.” The soldiers were well
pleased. Before the cheerful fire of a hospitable
widow, even if they had come with evil intent,
was ileasanter to the inner and outer man than
stan ing in the frosty air wilh the mercury
down to zero. So they drank the heating mix-
ture and smacked their lips.

“Now, girl, give us plenty of light,” said
Asbury, “ and show us every part of this floor.
You, corporal, stay here with the widow, and
look sharp. ‘

“ Now for uo-stairs," said the lawyer, return-
ing, and up t cy went, findingr no contraband
articles, although they poked their guns and
long swords here, there and everywhere. There
was no cellar, so the kitchen and outbouses came
in for their share. but of course nothing was
found. The real Hannah had made good her es-
cape.

“This is outrageous!” cried the lawyer. “I
am sure the fellow came here, was tracked up
to the very door, was heard talking, plainly,
and in spite of our close watch, he has van-
ished. The house has been searched thorough-
ly. Widow Green, you are a church-member,
and won’t lie.” The widow looked up, alarmed.

“I’ll lie for her," said Hannah, emphatic-
nlly, “if it's lying you want. I’m no church-
member and it won’t hurt me.” The idea tick-
led the shrewd lawyer, and he smiled in spite of
himself. v

“ We will put a guard round the house, at all
events,” said the lawyer.

“ What! you keep us all in the house, and to-
morrow market day?" cried Hannah.

“ Oh! no; you or the widow are welcome to
go out, but that follow must be lurking some-
where here and must be found. Widow Green,
you say you’ve had no strange company to-

ni ht.

E I didn’t say so, but I do sayso now,” replied
the widow.

“ No man here to supper, eh?"

 

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Molly, the Girl Captain. 25

 

“Oh! yes, half a dozen,” spoke up Hannah,
ironically. “ Didn’t you hear’em carousing and
singin’ and whistlin’l Of course two lone wo-
ineu expect to be insulted by such questions,”
and her needles quivered with anger.

“ We all know that the widow has a. son,”
said the lawyer.

“Well, ain’t she a. right to?” snapped Han-
nah.
“ Nobody questioned that,” responded the
lawyer, who was afraid of Hannah’s sharp tongue,
so well counterfeited.

“ Then let her alone; it’s bad enough to have
the boy of! nobody knows where fighting them-—
wall I’d like to say devil’s own foreigners, but I
didn’t. How can we tell if the poor fellow ain’t
1n ring bleedin somewhere ’twixt this and
New York? ‘et along with you, Law er
Asbury. You’re in comfort; let other folks ,
won’t ye?”

“Well, I’m going,” said the lawyer, taking
one final gulp at the hot drink, “ but 1 know
that fellow came in here, and I know he hasn’t
gone out. At the same time, I know he’s a
traitor and a spy. Good-night. I’ll leave a
soldier here on your hos nitality.”

“ What! one 0’ them e’thenl” bounced Han-
nah—“ why, we can’t understand him.”

“ Can’t help it; those were the orders;” and
the men left, all but the corpora], who applied
himself to the drink.

When they were gone, the widow, at a sign,
arose, and gave Hannah a candle; the two left
the corporal sitting before the fire. , It is need-
less to say that Hannah was allowed to go out
the next day with her marketrbasket, that the
basket contained a suit of men's clothes, and
that the real Hannah returned.

CHAPTER XVI.
CAPTAIN MOLLY’s PLAN.

CHRISTMAS drew near. Every-thing was pre-
iared for the grand festival at Walsingham

ouse. The dresses were all made. Three or
four rooms had been skillful] thrown into one
by the substitution of curtains for doors, and
these, looped back, gave a very pretty limpse
of the elegant stretch of apartments, al brill-
iantly illuminated, as they were to be on
Christmas eve. that the lady of the house might
judge of the effect, which was very splendid.

The Delaware in some arts was quite frozen
over, and there was 1; skating on the little
stream that separated the upper from the lower
village of Trenton.

Molly had grown very reticent of late. She
seemed to have numerous errands across the
river.

“ I want to wear a gold necklace to-morrow
night,” she said, as she sat with Lady Walsmg-
ham.

“ That you can easily do, child,” replied the
latter. “I have two or three, and Elsie Wlll not
wear hers.”

Elsie sat in the next room,lenrning to play
chess. Her nis—a-m's was General Rahl.‘ who
was more and more infatuated with each sari
ceedlng interview. The general devoted all his
spare time to Walsingham House, and, as he
was one of the most prudent of men, and did
not press upon her many lover-like attentions-—

 

 

moreover, as the lieutenant-colonel was not to
be hung—Elsie saw more of his good qualities,
and almost forgot to detest him.

“ But I don’t want yours, or Miss Vernon‘s,”
said Molly, “ thanking you all the same. I want
one of those old-fashioned necklaces of big
beads, and nobody has one that I know of, but
the Widow Green.”

“ It seems to me you are infatuated with the
Widow Green,” said Lady Walsingham. “ I
warn you that if you have any feeling for that
rene ado son of hers, I shall see your father.”

“ hy, Lady VValsingham, you can’t think
that at my age I could have a lover," said
Molly, with an appearance of great ingenuous-
ness. “ Look back at your own girlhood.
member, I am only seventeen.”

Lady Walsingham said nothing. At the age
of seventeen she had already flirted with and
discarded a half-dozen lovers.

“ I knew she’d lend them to me," soliloquized
Molly; “ and don’t I wish I could be trans-
formed into a boy with a pair of skates on.
Wouldn’t I be over the river. I might send a.
note for them,” she added.

“ Yes, child, if you want them so badl , send
by one of the servants,” said Lady Vl’ilsing—
ham; “though I don’t believe any of them can
be s ared.”

T elnext day Molly made her ap earance in
the kitchen, where she was a genera favorite.

“ Why, how bus you all are l” she cried.

“ We has to be usy to—day, miss,” said the
butler. “ Eight turkeys, two geese, sixteen
chickens, three roast pigs, 3. side of mutton, and
a quarter of beef. Joe, you rapscallion, attend
to your work.”

“ An idle good—for—nothing,” cried the cook,
and Joe dodged a rolling-pin, still keeping his
eyes on Molly’s face.

“ 0h! Mr. John,” said Molly, “ how well you
are looking 1" “

“ Be I, miss?” queried the delighted butler.

“ How I should like to see on on the ice; you
would make such a grand gure.” The latter
was obese. ,

“ I’m particular proud 0’ my calves, miss—-
particular proud 0’ my calves,” he said.

“ I wish you could skate now—I’ve a little er—
rand across the river.”

“ Couldn’t, miss, couldn’t,” said the butler,

his countenance falling. “ Heft 0’ this Christ-
mas dinner falls on me, though cook would dis-
pute it,” he added, more softly.

“ Then can’t you spare somebody? Here’s
J oe—it wouldn’t take him long, you know. It’s
only a note to early.”

“ Them there essians would git hold of it.
He’s a fool, and it might be reason. Reason’s
mighty bad.”

“Treason, John. you mean. But here, you
may read it yourself—every bit of it.”

Now, John could not read, and the witch
knew it. He took it, however, with an impor-
tant air.

I “Oh! but, Mr. John, you’ve got it upside
down,” cried Molly.

“ So I has, miss. I was jest going to turn it.
You see, my sight is so shorted like. Ah! I see.
Joe,” he added, after due inspection. “ take this
note across the river for Miss Molly.” ‘

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“I’ll pay you for your trouble, Joe," said
Moll . _

“goes I want pay?” said Joe, indignantly.
“No, I don’t. Ain’t I grateful? Yes, I bet
Wouldn’ti go to Chiny for you? I would,‘.‘ and
or] went his old wool cap, with the misswe
snugly tucked inside.

Nearly two hours passed. Joe returned with
the chain, but by sundry nods and shrugs,
Molly saw that he had something of importance
to communicate. Presently, she had ripped up
the lining of his sleeve, and taken a note from
thence.

The two girls were closeted together after Joe
had been sent 01! with a large reward, and
many words of caution. Then Molly warily
opened the note. It was written by the Widow
Green, and ran thus:

“ Dun LITTLE Menus—I have heard from Paul.
There will be Stirring time; between this and to-
morrow, if all turns out well. In case of any
trouble, you know where to come. Fortunately. the
river is covered with solid ice. Bo brave as ever,
and trust in God, I dare not say more, except that
then must use thy woman’s Wit, to keep the Hes-
sian officers as late as possible at the frolic. A
word to the wise is sufficient."

“Elsie, that means something!” cried Molly,
her cheeks crimsoned by excitement.

“ Yes,” said Elsie. “ Oh, Molly-—only to-
morrow!” ‘

“ Elsie, are you sure you have the password?
How did you get it?”

i “ With a kiss,” said Elsie, shuddering, “and I

lhavenhated myself ever since. t was a J ndas’s
iss.

r “ Nonsensei" returned Molly. “ When the

liberties of a country like this are at stake, we

should not halt at trifles. Shall we have cour-

age. think you, to carry out my plan!”

“ Yes,” cried Elsie, eagerly. ‘ Anything that
flan he done by mortal woman I will do-to save

1m. '

“Once free of the sentinels, and the woods at
his back, you can see how easily it might be
done.” ,

“ But. the vsentinels are alert; so are the
guards.”

‘ “ You forget that this is to be a holiday night.

‘That was my thought. Your kind aunt is to

send provisions enough for the whole camp, I
was going to say.”

“ 5:, yes; I know that."

_“ B , we must get drugged wine to the sen-
tinels on guard, and to those about his person.”

“ Great Heaven! Molly, would you murder
them!" cried Elsie. aghast.

“ y no means; only set them to sleep so
soundly that they will not wake up till to-inor-
row morning."

“ But, how to get to the r?"

“ This way: one of the youngest of the oflioers
is to be d rigged atthe party. When the wine
aflects him, it is in duty to cajole him into an~
other room; Joe’s uty to strip him of his regi-
mentals; your duty to put them on: the duty of
all three to o to the camp-myself as a servant
otLady Wa singham~you as a Hessian ofllcer
With the pass-word—Joe with an immense harn-
ggr for the prisoner. Under the eatables is to

concealed your dress. Washburn is toex—

 

change with you—he to put on the Hessian uni-
form. He is to pass out with me when the
guards are sufliciently stupefied. Then you can
resume your dress, and trust to your wits for
getting out of the difficulty.”

Elsie drew her breath hard.

“Can I do all this?” she cried.

“You said you could, just now,” replied

Moll .
“ 15f we fail?"

“ We shall not fail.
thousand Hessians.”

“You will make me brave, Molly.”

“ I wish to."

“ It looks as if we might succeed,” said Elsie,
growing more hopeful.

“ We are sure to."

“ But, what if they miss us from the party?"_

“You are to complain of headache to your
aunt, and ask for an hour's rest, sending your
apolfigies to the general by her."

“ oily, you ought to be a general yourself i”
cried Elsie, admiringly.

“ I'd rather be a captain,” said Molly, with
blushing cheeks.

“ Wei , Captain Molly, my courage is rising.
If J 06 only does his part well, I don’t see as the
rest is so very difficult.”

” It is difficult," said Molly; “ but, remember,
he only is great who surmounts obstacles. We
must face the dark, and the cold, and danger.
My only hope is its being a holida night, and
that the Hessians, filled with good c oer, will be
off their guard.”

“ About what time is this eerie-comic exhibi—
tion to commence, captain?” asked Elsie.

“ The guests will be here by nine. The gentle-
men wil be seated at the cardtables about
eleven. Then our operations must begin. I
trust we shall be through by twelve."

“ It is nearly time to dress,” said Elsie. “ How
little they will guess what strange hopes and
fears are going on under these costly laces.” she
added, moving toward the bed, where the fincry
was spread out. The bell rung. Molly was
snmrnoned to the boudoir of her ladyship.

“ Molly," cried the latter, “ Franz has disap-
pointed me about my hair, and I do believe,
after all, I must bother you to do it.”

t  If I can suit you,” responded Molly, cheer-
u y.

“ Of course you can, though I had set my
heart upon a hairdresser; but Franz is sick, so I
suppose I must do the best I can. That’s not
saying, though, that you won’t suit me. You’ve
a good deal of taste for a little body."

Molly cheerfully complied. Everything was
at hand—pins, dressings. pomatum. curling—
irons, and she went to work with a will.

“ What do you think of this story i” queried
Lady Walsingham.

“ What story i" asked Molly, innocently.

“Of the Widow Green’s son. Did you know
ghat "he came near being arrested the other

ay?

“ I heard something about it,” said molly,
Bushing.

, “ Look out. little girl,” said Lady Walsing—
ham, shaking her finger at her. “ Do you know
they say that very same fortune—teller who came
here was the man? Ahl don’t tell me you didn’t

I feel as strong as a

\

 

 

 

/\

 

 

 

 

;\

marriage?"

Molly. the Girl Captaim

27

 

suspect. You are a little rebel, I’m afraid, after
all, and I don’t know What I shall do with you."

“ And they didn’t arrest him, of course,’ said
Molly, hiding herself behind a great handful of
hair that she was holding. r

“ No; do you think I should like to arrest such
a. smart young man myself? I never heard any—
thing like iii—such a variety of disguises as he
has gone into. Why, the other night there he
was right before them—had dressed himself in
the girl’s clothes, and so he entertained them
after she had gone; next day, although they had
one of the soldiers on guard, he managed it so
nicely that they never suspected—got off, and
the real servant came back. I call that a smart
Yankee trick, don’t you?“

“ Very smart,” said Molly, with a great relish,
for she was chuckling to herself.

“ Yes, no doubt you’d say 30. Ah, Molly,
after all my good instruction, I’m afraid you ll
fail me at last.”

“ Why should you be?” asked Molly, again
taking shelter behind the thick hair.

“Your father came here to-day, Molly.”

“ Father!" The girl was astonished.

-“Yes; he came, he said, tohave a little pri—
vate talk with me.”

“ What! about me?” queried Molly.

“ Yes. about you. It seems he is getting anx-
ious, and wants you at home again. ’

“ Not immediately?"

“ As soon as the party is over."

1‘ ‘f‘ Oh!” and Molly drew a long breath of re—
ie .

“ You wouldn’t like to go before, Moll ?”

‘;’I don’t think I should, just as it’s rig t upon
us.

“I’m sure I don’t know what I should have
done without you, even if you are a little rebel;
and I hope the t’s not very deep seated~only for
JOVe’s or fancy’s sake, perhaps. But your father
has heard some sort of nonsense about this Clip
tain Paul—is that his namel—und he seems to
feel afraid that you will slip through hll fingers
some way, and marry him. Of course, if you
did, he said you should never lay a finger o'n
any of his property; and I expect your tatherls
a rich man. Mully."

” He is called very rich,” said the girl.

“ I excused you, of course, and replied that,
from what I had seen, I thought there was no
reason whatever for alarm. You will observe
that I have never seen you in this rebel captain's
Company."

Molly’s blush was reflected. very fairly, now,
in the great mirror; but the girl stooped. fi_S She
said, “Which arrow shall I put iii—that tipped
with ruby, or the diamond?”

“, Let me see," said Lady Walsingham: _“ ruby
Won’t go very well with crimsnh. I think _I‘ll
have the diamond, tonight. What beautiful
hands! I really think I shall have to take you to
England with me.”

“ Do on think of going to England?”

“ We l I suppose I must, as the fortune-teller
told me Ishould.” answered Lady Walsingham.
significantly. “ By the way, what do you think
of Elsie!"

“ Of Elsie! How do you mean!” _

“ Is she very unhappy in the prospect of this

 

“ I don‘t think she is very happy,” Molly re-
plied, reluctantly. “She did not like to speak
of that."

“ Do you know I had a singular dream about
her and the general l”

“ No; I should like to hear it,” said Molly.

“ Why, it seemed as if they were just going to
be married, when an enormous snake glided
from some part of the room, coiled up the gen-
eml’s body, and struck .him a deadly, terrible
blow, just on the left temple. I declare to you,
I felt fuint and sick when I awoke, with the
thought of it.”

“I don’t wonder," and Molly shuddered. “ I
hate to dream of snakes. It seems as if they
always bring trouble.”

“ Yes, if there is anything in dreams, I should
be inclined to infer thut Elsie would not marry
the general, after all.”

“ Oh! I hope not 1” said Molly, impulsively.

“And I hope not, if it can be broken with
honor. Yet it seems to me she has been toler-
ably cheerful through it all.”

“ Your dream impresses no that she will
never marry him,” said Molly.

“ The time draws near,” was the rejoinder,
“and I, for one, hope she u ill marry him. I see
in him the elements of a good man, though, to
he sure, he is a German; but, then, the Ger-
mans are re-eminent-ly home people, and love
their fami ies. There] what a taste you have,
little Molly; Ideclare it is wonderful. You’d
make your§fortune as a hairdresser.”

M“nShall I stay till you are dresseil?" asked

0 v.

“ But you need the time yourself, now. Be-
sides, Elsie is to be dressed, and 1 wish her to
look particularly Well to-night. Dear, dear,
what trying occasions these are!”

” But I shall have plenty of time: ’ persisted
Moll . “ I had rather stay than not.”

“ hi well then, stay and welcome. Now
would you think me forty?” she asked, laughing,
as she nodded to the answering image in the
glass.

“No, nor thirty,” answered Molly, with sin-
cerity; for, indeed, the harmless lady did not
seem much beyond her twenties in the brilliant
light that flashed upon her, when the maid had
lighted the candles.

It was some time before Molly got back to
Elsie, who was very leisurely dressing.

“ I thought you were never coming,” said the
latter.

“ But oh! I’ve something to tell you,” cried
Molly, and she related the dream. Elsie shud-
ders .

“ It does seem strange,” she replied, “ that I
myself should dream of ser ents, In the temple
you say the snake struck iml Indeed, I hope
he is not going to be killed. I’d far rather 6
should live, only not as my husband,” and she
shuddered again

CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THE PLOT SUCCEEDED.

A SPLENDID sight was Walsiugham House,
before ten o’clock on Christmas night. Lights
blazed from ever 0 suing and crevice, and
shone far out on t a sad, white snow, in glit—

tering lines of fire. It was a fearfully cold night, ‘

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28 Molly. the Girl Captain.

 

but the gay groups within knew nothing of its
rigor—cared for nothing but feasting and
pleasure.

Elsie had made her excuse to her aunt.

“ You do look pale, my child,” she said. “ Yes,
it is wise in you to seek some rest. I Will
tell the general if he misses oul Ah! you
sly girl to trn my lover! ell, I’ll forgive

on.” You didnt know I had set my cap for

in)!

“ They’ve been drinking famously," said
Molly, in a whisper, as she joined Elsne. “ I've
been Watching ihem, and there's scarcel a
really sober man here, thanks to the long tab e,”
and she pointed to the object in question,
sparkling with decanters, and goblets of glass
and silver.

“ There's poor little Lavoy, making believe
sweet sixteen, and, oh! my dear, there’s a. spy,
or something, in a. horrible cloak. He loo 5
frozen, too." Molly went forward to the eu-
trance.

“ Will you et this note immediately to Gen-
eral Raul?” as ed the man, his heavily-bearded
face quite pallid.

Molly took the note.

“ I know just where he is.” That was all she
said. and disappeared. The man went away.

“ Did you give it to him?” asked Elsie, on her
return.

“ Hushl I burned it!”

" Oh, Molly!”

“ I tell you—”

And Molly's now pale face and glitteringe es
came close to the ear of Elsie. It was then or
turn to start and grow white.

“ There is no time to lose," said Molly, flrmly.
“ Joe has done his art to pertection. He’d kill
himself for me, f believe, if I was heathen
enough to ask it. Go to your room. The clothes
are there. Stop, Elsie, you don’t understand yet
about the note. That man was Black Steve,
who keeps a bar down by the river, the reatest
tyrant and Tory in town. There, now, eep up
your courage!"

Hours before that. in the chill and blackness
of the most bitter night of the season, Washing-
ton, with his shivering but hopeful troops, was
crossing the frozen Delaware.

A strange, wild scene it was—the few flam-
beaux held in the forward boats glaring in
small, stolid circles showing the broad-shoul-
dered, heavily-bearded “ Marbleheaders” stur-
dily managing the boats, as they made their
way laboriously among the great masses of
floating, cracking ice, sometimes crashing to
gather, to the imminent danger of crushing
each other. The silenceaor suppressed shouts.
made the scene one of solemnlty as well as
peril. The cutting night-air deadened the skin
to the very bone, and two of the devoted men
Were frozen stark and stiff before the crossing
was ended.

Molly had some inkling of this, but precisely
how the matter was to be accomplished. she
gfluld not tell. The note she had burned read

us:

" Gasman Rum—A scout has arrived, who says
the American army is coming—is only nine miles
awe .

y “F30! A FRIEND To run Cause."

 

Still, it did but stimulate the undaunted
Molly.

“ If they are surprised," she said to Elsie,
“ they may kill him in their anger; and if he
is free, why he will have a chance to fight in
the good cause, if there is any fighting to be
done.

Elsie shuddered, partly with the cold, partly
with a foreboding of the morrow. The prisoner
safe away, she would defy the Hessian com-
mander; ut would this night’s work end in
victory or defeat?

As Molly had prophesied, the soldiers had had
their share of Christmas cheer, and were in a
state of jollity. Elsie trembled under her mili-
tary cloak, as they passed the first sentinels, and
she could scarcely steady her voice to repeat the
talismanic words:

“ It is daybreak.”

“ Pass on,” was the reply.

I should have said, before this, that Elsie
long had been an excellent German scholar, that
language being her specialty, on account of
her father’s strong love of it, and her ambition
to master all its intricacies. The last sentinel
was not so complaisant, and grufily demanded,
with a “ mein Got,” what they were goin to
feed up the rebel for? He had already rl’iud.
enough.

Elsie threw aside her cloak, and no sooner did
the soldier see the insignia of rank than he
shrunk back, cowed and quiet.

They reached the solitary house, behind which
the great pines, their ghostlike arms shrouded in
snow, seemed like so many weird spirits, watch-
{ugdover the destinies of the apparently doomed
an .

The sentinels admitted them without a word
seeing a superior omcer with them, who seemed
to have come for the purpose of superintending
the operations; while Molly took out the good
cheer, and poured liberal flagons of wine for the
delighted guards, who laughed heartily at her
unintelligible gibberish.

The captive lieutenant-colonel at first looked
moodily on—then slowly began to take in the
meaning of the scene. His haggard face bright-
ened; be cast suspicious glances toward the tall
young ofllcer, whose cap was brought low over
the eyes, and who stoodas much in the shadow as
possi le.

Wine was poured for the prisoner, and cake
and meat set before him. He read the dumb
language expressed in the rapid motion of
Molly’s fingers, " Eat heartily.” and obeyed.

The uard having drank to areas, threw them-
selves own thorough] overpowered, and were
soon sleeping sense] y.

“ You are to dress in that uniform," said
Molly, as Elsie hurried into the next room.
“Not a word—it must done!”

“ But I shall em you all to insult and de-
tection.”

“ And if you do not do as I tell you. you lose
Elsie Vernon. To-morrow, to save you from
fishgallows, she will become the wife of General

The prisoner grew white to the lips.
“ I shall do as you say,” he exclaimed, in a
low voice.

 

 

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Molly. the Girl Captain. 29

 

At that moment Elsie came out, pale and
trembling.

He grasped her hands; their eyes met in one
eloquent glance. _

“ My glorious preserver!” he murmured, his
lips quivering.

In a few moments ho, too, came out, fully
equipped—all insufficiency of dress hidden by the
amp 3 cloak.

“What are you doing?" cried Elsie, as Molly
threw her own cloak over her shoulders.

“ You are to go with him and J 0e,” said
Moll .

“ Xnd leave you here!” cried Elsie.

“ I tell you not to think of me. Remember
to—morrow. You must go with him.”

“ But where?” cried Elsie.

“ Hist!” cried Joe, who had been watching at
the entrance.

“ Great God! what does it mean?" exclaimed
the lieutenant—colonel.

“ It means that Washington’s army has cross-
ed the Delaware,” said Molly.

“ The camp has heard it!” cried Joe.

Nearer it sounded—the glorious old fife and

drum!

“Off with the Hessian uniform!” shouted the
prisoner. “ There’s work to do. Girls. find
your way back with Joe. I can take care of
in self, now."

. e unbuckled the arms of the sleeping sentinel,
and rapidly changed his attire.

“Good—night—God forever bless you!" he
cried, pressing Elsie to his bosom, and then
dashing out into the darkness.

Tumult and confusion reigned. From what

uarter the attack would come, nobody knew.

all the soldiers were stupid from excessive po-
tations, and still the shrill life and the battle—
drums drew near.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EVENTS or A DAY.

BUT, not yet heard at Walsingham House.

There the revelry was almost wild. A full band
ave forth its sonorous music—the dancers were
ooting it to the merriest of tunes.

“ Your niece stays long,” said the Hessian
commander, to Lady Walsingham.

“ She was very much fatl ucd; besides, gen-
eral, she wishes, no doubt, to e bright to-mor-
row. HoweVer, I will go myself and call her.”

“ I beg you will not,” returned the neral.

Nevertheless, Lady Walsingham did hurry,
on the moment, to the room of her niece.

She found it in disorder-apparel scattered
round, and the rich balleess thrown partly on
the bed, partly on the floor. ‘

Suddenly. in the midst of her consternation,
Elsie entered, pale and wild, her every-day gar~
ments wet and white with the snow.

“In heaven's 'name, what have you been de-
ing?” cried Lady Walsingham.

 

Elsie could not speak. Her tongue seemed

frozen. She sunk into the first chair.

“Tell me, Elsie Vernon, what means all this?
Where have you been in the night—in the snow?
Are you mad?” . .

Elsie shook her head, but still felt as if all
h was forever denied her.

“Elsie ernon, I command you to answer me.

 

What does this midnight visit from the house
mean?” ‘

“It means,” cried Molly, coming in quietly,
“ that Miss Elsie is very tired and—very happy!
The American army has crossed the Delaware;
we heard the flies and drums-oh, such a ter-
rible army 1—forty times as large as the Hessian
force."

The woman grew fairly pale, with her fear
and excitement.

“You wretches!" she cried, “there has been
treachery here. I don’t believe a word of what
you say. Tell me, this instant—”

The dull thud of a single cannon, at that mo-
ment, smote her ear.

“ I toldWyou so," cried Molly.

Lady alsingham flew down-stairs.

Several Hessian soldiers were elbowing their
way throu h the gay crowds, in search of their
general. heir shouts awoke consternation and
terror. ’

“ The American army is u n us—the Ameri-
can army has crossed the elaware," was the
cry. Men and women rushed, in frantic haste,
to doors and windows. All the town was in
consternation. The fife and drum could be dis-
tinctly heard in the distance. Cries and shouts
were mingled in strange discord. Those who
were cowardly ran, in their frantic fear to hide
themselves; others, more courageous, fled home
through by-ways.

General Rahl summoned his tipsy officers,
with oaths that almost sobered them.

He rode to headquarters, followed by his staff,
and found his command prepared to‘surrender.
His presence. however, somewhat changed the
aspect of affairs, and the Hessians made ready
to give battle.

The strife was a short but a bloody one.
Washington rode among his soldiers. himself
directing their movements. Many balls whistled
by his ear—many a bullet pierced his covering
c oak; but he kept his position till victory was
assured. ‘

Two hours after the defeat, an officer rode up
to Washington’s head uarters.

“ Lieutenant-Celene Washburn!” exclaimed
the general, as he gave him his hand. “ Well,
I heard you were hung, or going to he.”

“ Alive, still. general, thank God, and able to
do service,” responded the officer.

“ Heaven be thanked that the victo is with
us. Nevertheless, my reenforcements ave dis»
appointed me, and we shall not be able to hold
on here.”

“ I am sorry for that, general."

“ So am I, chiefly on account of my poor.
barefooted soldiers: but we must be wary. A
few more such blows as this, and we are safe. I
heard that Colonel Rah] general by brevet, was
wounded in the fight. is that so?”

“Wounded, general, and I fear mortally."

“ Ah, I‘m sorry for that,” said Washington.
“ He was a brave man. Where is he?”

" At the house of Lady Walsingbam."
to“ I think I‘ll go and see him,” said Washing—

n.

Accomfianied by the lieutenant-colonel, .tho

eneral urried over to the house where the
essmn commander was, indeed, dying. He
has been fatally wounded.

 

 

 

 

';-.~..i-..«_.=s..;- ‘ p

g .
l

30 Molly, the Girl Captain.

 

Attended by the mistress of the house, the
Hessian gazed with filming eyes where sat Elsxe,
white and sorrowful, while Molly was busy in
.somo little arrangement for his comfort.

“ General," said Washington, “ I am sorry to
meet you thus.”

“ And I am sorry to be met in this condition,
but it is one of the casualties which must be ex-
pected, in war.” Again his dying eyes turned
to Elsie, and he kept murmuring:

“ 1 see dilfcrently, now.”

“ Do you not wish for a clergyman!” asked
'Washington, who was always anxious for the
spiritual condition of his friends and his one-
mics

“Mes,” was the brief responsc. “ I did not,
but now I do.”

.Mrs. 'alsigham dispatched a servant, who
soon returned with a minister. Molly started
and flushed as she saw enter with him Captain
Paul Green. '

The dying commander was left alone with the
clergyman.

Presently the lieutenant-colonel was summon-
ed to his bedside. He reappeared and spoke
earnestly with Elsie.

“General Washin ton,” he said, after his
short conference, “ oneral Rubi wishes to do
What he considers an act of justice. Through
motives that’nced not be mentioned here, he had
persuaded this lady to engage herself to him.

his was to have been her wedding-day. It
will please him. therefore, to see her wedded to
the mun to whom she has long been alflanced.
Will you honor us by witnessing the ceremony?"

The general assented with pleasure. Elsie left
the room, followed by Molly.

“ Stop!” cried Captain Paul, and before Molly
had time to leave he had caught her by the
hand. _

“Now or never,” be whispered, as she turned
her flushed face toward him; “ Now or never, if
you had rather be left a widow than a forlorn
maiden."

vNothing more was said by the trembling girl,
and an impressive double wedding took place by
the dying commander.

I need only add that Molly did not become a
widow, though her father cast her off. The
sobriquet of captain always clung to her,
and it is said Washington really conferred the
title, in consequence of her bravery, when she
accompanied her husband some time afterward.

The lieutenant was raised to the rank of a
general, long before our troubles in that war
were over, and distinguished himself number-
less times—so that his name has come down to
us full of honors.

Lady Walsingham returned to England and
married again; and often, to delighted friends,
she told her Christmas night experience, and the
story of Captain Mollyl.

rnn mm.

 

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BEADLE’S BQY’S LIBRARY.

fitblished Every Saturday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents.

 

1 “(Elfin-hunter, the Boy Scnut of the Greut North Woodt. By
.Uolllen.

2 Buffalo [ill], from Boyhund to Mnnhund. By Col. 1‘. qurnlmm.
'lt (lurlnu. King: oildnidee. ll ' Albert \V. Aiken.

4 Garden Lillie, the Buylntnrprewr ol'the inneel. By Major
H. B. Stmldunl.

U: Bruin Adan“, Old Grizziy’l Buy l’nrd. By Col. l’. lnzrehmu.

6 liendu‘nnll Dick nn 1: lie . by Edward 1.. Wheeler.

7 “'Ild Bill. the Pistol l’rim'c. liy (Jul. I’mntisl lngrnhnul.

8 The l’rulrle Runch. llv Joseph E. Bndgcr, Jr.

9 lit-vim; .Iuc: 'l‘he History uln “ llurd r Buy.” By A. ll. Put.

0 Turn . I“ '. the llustnu: Km: lly Col. Prentiss lngrnhnxn.

l Churloy Skylnrk. A Slur-y ni’ School-tiny Schlpel nud (Jollege
(Inprirl. liv Major 11. n. SImlllnnl.

2 Mnrlpo‘u Murnu. By .lusvpll E. Bridger, Jr.

i Ben. lly Juhn J. Marshull.

     

 

   

Rnr Steel, King nfllm liueh. Br J. E. Badger, Jr.

.- “‘idc-Au'uke George, the [luv l’ioneur. By Ed. Willett
16 The linv \Vizurll. liv llnrrv lingunld.

I? Peter l‘eppergruna, the Greenhnru imlll Gnthmn. By Nouh

Il .
18 Adrift on the Prairie. and Amateur Hunters: on the
linifnlo “unto. By all Com-mu.
19 The Fortune Hunter; nr.lloving Jo. mMinnr, Cuwboy,
Trapper nnd Hunter. By A. ll. Fun.
20 'i‘ru per Turn, the Wood lulp. My 1‘. C. Hnrbnugh.
921 Yel ow “air, the Boy Chief ol‘ the Plum-ea. by Colonel
l‘runlisl [ugh-Ilium.
22 The Ruow Trnll. By ’1‘. C. Hurhauzh.
23 (“ll Grizzlv Arlnmn, the limr Tamer. By Dr. Frunk Powell.
2} “70min um \i' “2.1!”. My Cnyt. Frr-dor‘ k \i'hituuer.
25 A Rolling ' incident: in the. C acr on Sen nnd Laud
nf graham. My Will. R. F :r.
26 Roll lllvur Raven. By C. llnunmg (ilnrh.
2? i’luzu Illlli l'lnln: «Ir, \\ ild Adventures at “Bucknkil Sam."
. ' ' $11.11., By (m. r. lum-
28 The word l’rlnue. 'I no Runmnti
By Curt. ltnnlcl’lnk “'lllil. diet.
29 Rnow-hhm- Tum. My '1‘. C. llurhruxgh.
8" l’qu «Ie Lucy, in. French Be:st Clnn-Iner. By C. D. Clurk.
31 Round tht‘ Cnmp Fire. Br .lusenh E. llrrdxer, Jr.
32 “l’hlte Beaver, tlu: ludiun Medicine chief. Br Col. Premiu-
nqm mm.
mi The Boy Crnxndcr. By (in vt. Fred. Whittnker.
The Chane ol’ the Grant hlte Stag, Ind, Camp and
Cnnnc. By C, Dunning Clnrk.
35 ()ill '1 r Kn oklc nnd llis lirvy (‘luuul. By R. Sturbuck.
30 The iiruwnuux or, The Story of Gen. George A.
Gus-er. Il~ mix-t. l-‘rvd. Whittaker.
8? Night-Hunk Gel-rue. lly Col. l‘rontiis lngrnhmn.
8H The Buy Exllon ul' .Nllwrln. lly 'T. C. llnrllnulzll.
39 The Young: [it-ur- lluuterw. liy Morris ltwlwing.
40 filnurt Him. tine had with n l.u\‘r.l llend. lly Edward “‘lllett.
4| The firttler‘n Hon. lly Edward S. Ellis.
42 “'ult Fer runon‘fl Crnlw. By C- Dllnlllnl.’ ClMll.
43 Rifle, uml evulver. By Cupt. Fred. Whittaker.
44 The Loni iiny “'lmlorn. llv ’l‘. C. llurlmuyh.
45 Brant-u Billy, the Saddle Prince. By Cul. l’. lugruhnm.
46 like ', the Htownwny. lly (‘lmrlen Mnrr' .
4? The Culnrullo Boys; or, Life on an Indigo Plantation. By
Joseph E. “mixer, 1..
43 The i'ulnpnn Hunters; or, New York Boy. in Bueno-
Ayrel. By C. linrhnuth.
49 The Adventurous Life of Nehru-kn Charlie. By
Col. Prcutln Ingrahnm.
50 Jm-k, llarr and Tom, the Thru Champion Brethan. 13y
Cunt. Fred. 'hlttnktr.
51 The Youn Land-Lubber. By C. Duanan Clark.
52 The Boy I etecliren. liy 'l‘. C. llnrbnugh.
53 Hem-It Hurry; or, The Country Boy Adrift in the City. By
Churlnn Murris.
54 California] Joe, the Mysterioun I’lnimnmn. By Col. Pr-ntl-s
lllflrl run.
55 Tip Tron-cl. the, Flnnter. By Edward “'lllelt.
56 Th low Huntern; or,\\'iulor in tho Wnodn. By Barry
t

I‘
fi'

 

      

  

In.
Life ofCol. Monetary.

  

 

 

du F0

57 Harry new. the Sailor an Mnuirinn. lly S. W. l‘enrce.

58 The Adventumun Life oi‘Unptuln Jack, the Border
Buy. lly Cu]. Prenlin lngmlmlu.

59 Lnlnr 'l'im. thu Mule lloy of the Mlm-a. lly Charla-,1 Mnrrlu.

60 ' nu: ’l‘rnll Hunters; or, New Yurk ll - in (lrluly
l.:uui. liy 'l'. C. Ilnrlmllzll.

61 The Tl er Hunter»; or, The Colurndu Boys in Elephunt
Lund. 5y Jmpn a. nudgean

62 Doctor Curver, the “Evil Spirit” of the l’lulul. By Col.
i’rcnllul lllgrnllfllll.

63 “luck Hnrne Hill. thn Bundit Wrecker. llyllnuer Stnrhnx-k.

G4 Youn Dick 'l‘nlhnt: or, A Buys ltuuyh and Tumble Fight
from . ew Yurk l.» Culilnrniu. “V A. W'. Aiken.

65 Th. Boy Pilot; or, The bland Wrerkrr. lly Col. 1". lngmlmm.

38 The Denert Rover; or, Slowuwuy Dluk Among the Arnlu.
uy Charla Murru.

6‘? Texun Ohnrlle, the Boy Ranger. By Col. Prenllu lngrnlmm.

 

 

      

63 1.23;:th or, The Young leluuten. By Cnptein “ Llrulu "

 

69 The Ynungz Nihilist; or. A Yankee Boy Among the Ruulnm.
By Churlea Morris.

'30 Pony the Cowlmvx or, The Young Marxlinll’n Raid. By
Mu_’nr H. n. madam-a, lax-scant.

71 Ru Roltnnrt nnd Hip-Bear. Bndptnln ” Bruin " Adan“.

7B The Ice Elt- )lluut. lly Cnpt. Frederick Whittaker.

?$ The Young . [cone-Ilunters. “l’ Willill'n “- Mnnninz-

7-1 The Boy Coral-Fishers. By ll lzer Stnrhuck.

75 Revolver llllly, the Boy Rnuger of Texas. By Col. Prmtiu
lunrnhum.

76 The Condor Killerll. By T. C. llurhnugh.

7? Lull Lionheeln, the Young Tiger Fighter. By Roger Starbuck.

78 Flutbunt Fred. By Edwnrd Willntt

79 “none. the iluntrr. By Cu mun F. “'1 iltnk r.

KO Kentuckv lion, the Long ille. nl'the (ner-

H The Kit urnnu Ulnh. lly ’l‘. C. llnr nigh.

3' Little Buck, the llny Guide. lly ll Ringgnld.

83 l'uny Bob, tln: Rfll'kll‘lfl Ridvr. lly ’. lngralmm.

S 1 (antnln Fly 3 \‘lxht. Hy Juseph E. llnduer, Jr.

 

By R. Starbuck.

 

 

 

.

85 Cuptnlu Ilnlph. the Yuuut: Explun-r. B)- L. D. Clark.

946 Little Dun Roekl. My Mnrris Redwing.

R? The Menu erle Hunters. lly Maj. ll. Grenville.

83 'l‘hleflliuy rump“ or, Lil'o Among the Glpaleu. Hy J. M.
l 0 man.

89 ’lmnu-nhnre LUe. Bv C. D. Clark.

90 it!“ lug: Rifle, Unlter‘a thtle Scent. lly T. C. iinrbwgi‘l.

91 Oregon J h, the Wizurul kill -. By Roger Smrhuck.

I ll |~lenne Kit. By A, F. Holt.

plug Jake, the Cniorndn Circus Buy. By ll. Bninbrid‘a.

- 1‘ In Spence, the llroadl-nru liov. By Ed. “'illelt.

95 Monran to Siberia; or,A Yunkee liuyw tho Reuue. By
Churle Morriu.

96 it‘lghtln Fred. By T. C. llnrhnngh.

9? (Jr-nine n 'thu Plynwuy. llv r'. Dunning: Clark.

9s The llov \‘l llnnten. By Mn).n.u.sm.1.l=ml.

lit» The \Vhitc ' ‘lxere. liy cm. Chnrlrs 11mm.

100 The Snow-Shoe Trail. 8:; St. Grnrgn lluthlmne.

101 .‘Iurlnno, the Ottnvm Girl. By Edwurd S. Ellie.

102 The Flyuwny Allont. “3' Cw "Willi": Clnfko

103 l’nt Mllllnne "1- Adventure“ or, Silver Tongue the DD-
(mtuh Queen. ly C. L. Edwnrlls.

104 The Boy Prop! cetor. By Roger Stnrhuck.

105 “human, the nod \‘l'ltch. By Edwin Emerson.

106 The lloy (lruiaern. By Edwnrtl Wilhu.

10? The Border Itnverfl. By .1. Milton llull‘nmn.

108 Aluuku. the “'n‘f-Qneen. llv Cunt. llmvnrd Limmln.

09 (Tlll‘illirillll Jim, the \\'hite llun‘a Friend. lly Ed. S. Ellil

l0 l’lut-ky Joe. the lluy Avenger. lly l. llull'xunn.

II The Bltrllcl' (-‘rnnnlnkrr. By Jill A L. lluwen.

[2 Lei‘t-llnuded Pete. ll)‘ Joseph E. llndzsr. Jr.

:3 The River klllon. By Capt. J. rut. Axlnlns.

i

l

O

 

 

 

   

4 Alone on the l’luinn. liy Edward “'illntt.
5 Silver Horn, null I'll: Rifle Firedl-nth. By Roger Starbnek.
6 Exploit-II of Hezekiah Smith, the Buckwoodunnn. By .
Euleran limllnnn.
17 The Young Mnltnngern. Bl’ C~ Dunning (“Ark-
18 (“fl Trn a; .r, the Hay Rivull. By Hurry Rmmtold.
19 Center giant. the Whitl- Crow. By '1‘. C. liarhnngh.
20 A llot Trail. By Churle: Morrit.
21 Ilunter I’m-d Ben. By Rnuer Stm‘mrk-
’3 The Elqnllunnx‘ Queen. By G. \anle Browne.
28 Tim, the hay Arrolmt. By (ilmrlcl Murrin.
24 Queen lie-ale, the Border (llrl. By Henry .1. Thorns;
25 'l run Tuber, tln- lloy Fugitive. ll ' llnrry Ringgold.
26 Mink Cont, the Drum-Shut. By on. E. llmlger, Jr.
2? The Deer Hllntern. B\' John J. Mural-nil.
3‘5 W elf-Cup; or, The Night-Hmka 01' the Fire-Lunch. By
Cunt. Chul. Howard.
29 Sllvcrnpur: or. The Munutnlullemine. By Edward WillntL
130 Ket‘tnen, Qu‘ ml o the l’lnlnk. liy Perry I}. St. John.
31 “'lnhlh. the (‘hlld Spy. Bv George GIL-neon.
32 The Inland Trapper. liy Chm-lea h‘ownrd.
18 The Flu-est fineetcr. lly Edward Wlllett.
\ ild Nut, the l‘rmpur. hr Wm. R. Eysirr.
85 The Fllver Bugle. By I'll-mt. (‘ I. llazelton.
3“ The l’rniric Trapper. By (I. Dunning Clark.
37 The Antelope Roy. B\' Geo. L. Aiken.
88 Long Shot: 4». The hwnri’Guhle. Bv Capt. commit. _
39 Cnionel Crockett, tln- Ilenr King. y C. E. lmlle.
40 Old Pegs, the Mnuntuiueer. Bv Lewh. W. Csrlon- ,
4| The Giant. llunter. ii_\' llnrvv llumrd.
1% Him-l: Pnnther. the Half Blond. By J. E Budget.
14") (lurnnu the Guide. Ry Ident. .1. ll. Rnndolyl:
144 Kent t e Ranger. By Edward 5. El N
145 "Ill ilohhlun, Hunt". By Edward \l theft.
1 Hi The Half-Breed Riv-ti. 83-1.... E. lhul er..lr.
147 ’l' he Meeker! Aven‘on [iv (10!. Prentiss unrnhnm. ‘
143 Nut. llu- ’l‘rumwr and Indian Flzhler. ii Paul J. l'rescd .
149 The Elk Dc‘mnn: or, The Gilnt inthen. By 1 C.
liurbnugh.

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BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publilherl, ‘
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BEADLE’S BOY’S LIBRARY.

Published Every Saturday. Ea.th Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents

 

150 The Boy Multan -llnnlcr: or, Enulnlie, the Beautiful
Amazon. ily Frinlurii- \l’hltlnkvr.

151 Frank Yuma, llm YunIIL: Trapper; nr, Mnnntnln Kute’u
“lamina. By Joseph E. llniluur, Jr.

152 “'lltl Raven, the Smut. Hy ()ll Cnomi-s.

158 Lynx-Cap; or, Four ’I‘rnlnwra’Amnnz Lln- Sioux. By Paul

hbhn.
154 The (lhnmplon 'l‘vxnn Rider: or, Red Buflnlo and the
ilcrcnlen Hunter. Bv Iiurry St. (i‘l'lii‘gi‘.
155 Dunk Dick’u Inur By Jim. E. Badger, Jr.
156 Fran Bell, the iiny In, My ()ll Cnmnea.
15'? Nick Doyle. le Gulll Hnnivr. liy i’. ll. Mia's.
158 Kldimppcd Dick : or, The Full: of the Fire ‘iy. By J. Saar
icy ilcndcmm.
59 Ram‘n lionu‘ Trail. By W. J. llmniitnn.
60 Ilnnk Trl ioc’n Vow. By Hurry Hazard.
HI The Mad gklp M‘r. By R. hlnrhuck.
(if! The ’l‘rnppcr ‘Ing. By Maj l-:x M rllne.
163 Simon Kenton. Illlnh‘l’. By Emurson Iludmim.
] 61- Tile ion (lhloi’; or, Frank l‘u-Il'u Cmnpnvt. Hy Oil Coomel.
Ii 65 Thtl 'l‘rmli-r 'l‘rnltor. By J. Stanley Henderson.
(Ni Did Jupo‘l (View. Iiy Mrs. Orrin lnlniul
ll? The Young Trailer. Bv W. J. Hamilton.
68 'l‘iu- H vet-tor flux. ‘le Mnj. IA'Wifl W. Carson.
69 Lnnk .utc, llmUlrlColm-mlnllunii-r. ilv )5. W. Archer.
70 Tim \Vhlto “’nil‘. liy Edward Willi-i
1’“ The F‘n’alun Gui By W. N. .\
?2 The Ynnlu-i- i’ol l iiy C. Danni Clark.
73 The Seoul llllli Ill! Young (Yhuln. iiy Wnrrm St. Jnhn.
74 Blrwiwmllh 'I'nln‘u llnuk. ill’ 990- il Gilbert.
75 The llnek-iiln Illdrr. liy (v'uy Gm-nwmd.
l?“ The Snuniu-r‘n flurprluc. liv Mrs. H. J. Thomas.
77 Four Fellow .‘cnniu. By , nnluy iirmlurnu".
38 Did Kit null illu (ion-rude , liy Ins. l4). liudgur, Jr.
‘9 I'm-lo Grill's‘ Dlngnluc By llnrry liuznrd.
I 15y Lioul. (Ml. llnznlilne.
lly Capt. llnxln Admins.
ny. liv Mam 0. Rullp.
HR Jph Drun’u ’l‘iwlli-n. y lnuuldsby North.
84 \ unlit-(- El» ‘n Dilemma. 113- .l. R. W'nrnenlr-r.
85 The \I'liy “'Itt-h’u “'ard. 15y Edwin E. Ewing.
80 Frank, tln- Furrier. lly .i. Slllnlry Hi-ndiernnn.
8? Diana, lln- il'uir Mnnntnimu-r. liy Capt. F. Whittaker.
188 Jurk'n Snare. liy Mm. Ann F i’m'lar
9!) flmn, the Swunn Smut. Ily \l‘. . . l'ln'n-iltnn.
90 The Dar-him: ’l‘rnnpor. lly lv‘rodi-riivk Dewey.
91 TI 0 0y III-av - lly .liunnn "L. Bil-i0“.
92 Handy Bill. nl' "K. il\' Edward Willlslt.
93 Ilnrry “'lnkh-‘u [.1 u: Flume. [iv Wm. R. Evater.
191 Cree, yer Cm". thu .\ rulnw Swami ’ ‘rxiiim'. By 1*. Duwey.
195 The “urn-r lioim'ilvo. Ry ilurrv llimird.
“Hi {I 'va hing, tlm Mmminin \l'ilr‘ll. liy C. D. Clark.
197 T In IIl'lIllllt‘lI (‘uplnlm Ily W. J. Hamilton.
19“ Did ('rnnuilrr'n "i" I liv Flu-l. {flinrlvs llnu'nnl.
99 Zobrn luck. in: '1‘ v w J. inunnnm,
00 The Nnnloimn ll “I'Kl‘ W. Rubinwn.
01 The Yankee (‘ \(‘Jh | .( wmd “'illitll.
02 Tedd ’1: Long '1 V II. liy i'MlWflfil  Ellis.
08 Did I link, lu- Horn-Ii. l’_ ‘ l \V. Archer.
01 “lion-head",- Ih- F‘llni.
05 Thu lluu'hlna ‘
Oil Kit liurt'n NIlU‘ii-
07 Eagle-I". mi Tim. C. Dunning ('iurk.
OR The Vii nizv HPilrt. i. .lunn-s l. lumen.
09 Buck iinrl‘n i lm-k. lly Edward Wilh't.
10 The Tell-'l‘nle Bullet. llv J. Stnnlnv Henderson.
II The Day Surveyor. l:_r \V. J. llnmlllnn.
1’3 Yankee Drover flwipos. lly Swiin Rnblni.
18 fillver City Tom. liy Annual 1.. lion-en,
lrk, lhil Di-tl-i-tlw. ly Edwin Emeraun.
natnn llldur Roy. lly Alla-rt \V. Aiken.
0 Da “olu Dutchman. ily Ma}. Max Martina.
'aukee .lmh, n... var. in n. r.n.-ik.mp.n.l).
_ew York Ned In California. “V W. J. Hamilton-
.entucljcly Knie‘u film. My imwnnl wmm.
Frlnco rank’u Illvnl. lly l‘nul .l. l'mcnu.
motor Bug, lieu-ruin. , s Jav Swill.
iy Snm’n flnnrc. "Y M" I'nml. - D.
28 Did Nana)": “'ard. ll_\' 1. Chi. ilnzullim‘.
24 Battle ate. the. anmib. m Scull R. Slivrwooil.
$5 Nlu‘ht- Iuwk "Iii: or, 'l‘lm Nuw York Sporisrncn'n Claw.
liv VIV. J. Hamilton.
26 The Mar-Rod )i‘xlnlni'. liv Nam O. iiivll'a.
27 Burney’n Iiold llrlmh. lly Junie» L. iio‘nm.
138 The Deadwood Sports. lly l. 14.”. Lansing.
29 'Ilnnn Schmidt, Jrq nr,'l'lm Ding: ml Ynukw. lly W. J.
Hamilton.
230 Lona Nlnr‘u flure Nimt. liy Hurry linznrd.
931 Mark Murmm’l Millk. My aunt. (Thnrlvn Hnwnrd.
232 Billy Brnnm’a 13"er! (lrnluo. llv ll, \linor Klapp.
833 The Girl Rifle-Shot. By W. .1. llnmiln-n.
284 Did Kyle’l Lnn Trump. l'y ili‘ur)‘ J. ’l‘ln-nmn.
385 (Nd lllll flyi-e’n ’lrdgo. By Edward Willutt.
230 The (Imam-Winn- Detovllrn. By Ed.  Ellis.
28’? The Dolnhln‘n You“ Ski par. liy Roger Starbuck.
338 Jouh'l Boy Paula. y S. (x. Linn-lug.

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289 Lee anln’n Di: ulna.
240 Darin]: Dlrk'n I ace.
2-1! Uncle [Cain-’9 Boyu. ily J. Sinner ilulldursnn.

242 ’(lyellnt Bob Suared. 1y Cnpl, R. M. iiawlhnrm'.

2718 Fith-ngilt Joe; or, Brave. tln- Canine Scout. ilv Churn-I

i". islm.
24-} Bob Baker’s Lmt Leap. By '1‘. Benton Shield», U. S. A.
2: North \V with Nut. 1% v W. J. Hamilton.
216 The Girl Chief. By . M.‘.\lerrill.
24’? Denver Dick, the Rulllrer. Ry Hurry Hazard.
2—18 Rim-k Jlm’n Doom; or, Billy lluwiogs’s Revenge. Byldeut.
Col. ilnzeltinii.
249 Morgan, the 91m Rovar. By John S. VVnrner.
: Z_nch’n Ghoxt Trap. llyGenruu Amulegnte.
291 kyii‘u Bold Game. livl‘nui llibbs.
'_ Sum-ho [Sm-I’M Shot. y Gunfire Glcamn.
203 firnl‘tly Crazy flinch; or, The French Fugitive. 71y Harry
fllilfl .
254 The Fighting Quaker. By Edward S. Ellis.
2V5 The Ranger -¢ 1‘ lrnt Crlllnc. By John S. Warner.
266 Bob (A-axe’a Grow; or, The Boys of Logger Camp. By

John Neal.

25’? Tommy’s Font Pacer. By W. J. Hamilton.

" Doc iluil’u l’lnok. By Capt. Chas. iinwnrd.

259 Rocky Mountain iinrt. By Edward Willutt.

26 Rookie“ Ralllh‘i Rink. By James L. Bowen.

261 Gold Nugget lick; or; Two Buys’ Good Luck. By Tom
P. Moran"

262 lra’n Ill}: Bonanza.

268 Jnnh Murnton, Detective. hy Mary A. Dcnlaon.

26-1 Unrln Jerry, the Quaker. Bv John Neill.

265 The Skipper“. Male} or, The Cruise of the Fire-Fly. lly
Harry Cnvmnlluh

266 The Girl Cowboy Captain: or, The Skinner: oi“ th.
Carnlinn Swmnpa By Jan. E. Badger. . r.

267 EDI], the Hindu Spy. Br W. J. Hamilton.

26% Ralnh’l Lani, Tramp: nr,ThoWoodmau’s RecroantRival.
liy Edward S. llllis.

269 Grudge; or, The Madman of the Miami. liy

270 Jack, the Count Detective; or, The Disguined Cnptnin'n
Clark. lly Rugvr Starbuck.

271 0111 Gutllvh. (he .lnliy Landlord, or, The Daring Dutch
Dmnsel. By Herrick Jnlirlstmie.

272 The Roy Boomer; nr, Pawnee Bill‘s Prowge. By Howard
M. iloyntnn.

271! Red Mike] Rune. ily W. J. llmnilinn.

274 Donny. the linlah Dame: nr, Tln- Aldvrnlnn'n Lilllr
Pl'htcuer. lly hi-cniur l‘nulding, IV. S. N.

275 (.‘onrad. [he Deena King; nr,Lron Inrmina’u Dix-guise.
ly ilxu'ry Munlnrl.

276 PM. the I’lnohy Sergeant: or, Ralph nu tln- Wanpntli.
lly W. J. iliuniltnn.

277 Jack Jordan‘s Pnrd; or, 'i‘ln' Santa Fa Hunters. By Mn.
M. V. Victor.

273 Tom. ihe Oli‘l Tar; nr, Jack Winthroy‘s Long Trail. By
lit-gar Smrbuck. ’

27!) Dolly'u Dentin-shot; nr, Dusky Mark, the Young: “'llthnl.
ily Cnpl. ClinrlI-s Howard.

280 Detective German Jae: or. The Flying Dutchman Out
\Vest. iiyilnu‘urd M. l!“ nmn.

281 Joe (lurd‘i Double; nr,'i‘he ldint's Cunning. By Jon. if.
Badger, Jr.

2R2 Nut Dodge, the Paddler, or, Black Culo'l Trick. By Henry
J. Thomas.

283 Km], {he Stowaway: nr, Adrift in Brazil. By C. D. Clark.

284 Dan. the Din-lay Dwarf; or, Brock and his Trailmd Dog.
By Ralph Ringwnnd.

235 The Moxienu’» Dnulvie. fly 1‘. W. King.

236 Job Sharp, tlm Deli-olive. By Marc 0. Rolfe. Really Out. 5.

287 The Two Mlddicu: or,'l'he lhiccnneer'r Ward. ByLnln-
yotte Larnresl. Randy Oct l‘).

233 Row, “[9]; jungle: ur, The Lori. Bay's Disguise. By Ed.
S. Ellis. Randy Oct. 19.

289 Molly, the Girl Cnainln; or, The Dutch Paddler. By
Mary A. Deniwn. Ready Oct ‘26.

290 Detootlvc, Dick’fl Paul: or. Four New ank Rvpnrma in
Colorado. By ll. .‘l l‘oyntnn. Randy Nov. ‘2.

291 Dick Dowle’n Deni; og'l'he Miler‘l Lon. Ward. By C. B
Lewil. Randy Nov. 9.

Bendie‘u Boy’s Library ll for ml: by Iii NuwldnlunJvo
cams ywr copy, or sent bv mall on recall)? 0. ll: can“ each.
BEADLL‘ AN]! ADAMS. Pnbllnluu.
98 William Street, New York.

il)‘ .\lnrn 0. mar...
By Arthur L. hit-serve.

ii)- linrrv lluznrd.