DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

A TALE OF THE WAR OF ’76.

BY N. C. IRON,

AUTHOR OF ‘‘ THE MAID OF ESOPUS.”’

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BEADLE AND COMPANY, -
NEW YORK: 141 WILLIAM STREET.
LONDON: 44 PATERNOSTER ROW.

 
 

ntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1861, by
BEADLE AND COMPANY,
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the

Southern District of New York.

 

 
eer he TTA:

THE

DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

 

CHAPTER I.
. THE RECONNOISSANCE.

On the evening of a sultry day in August, in the year
1776, a lady and gentleman were discerned riding over the
tugged ground between the then village of Brooklyn and
_ those heights which traverse, like a rocky spine, from east to
west of Long Island. Their route was evidently directed
toward the middle pass of that portion of the elevation called
Bedford Hills. The gentleman was a tall military figure,
wore a sword by his side, carried pistols in his holsters, and
was well mounted. The lady, attired in the elegant riding
habit of the present day, then rarely used in America, sat
her horse with grace and firmness.

The thoughts of the officer seemed abstracted from the
beauty of his companion, who, however, found diversion in
the willful gambols of her capricious steed. These equestrians,
apparently influenced by different feelings, were, nevertheless,
devoted to the same cause. They were brother and sister—
Rufus and Stella Westville—faithful sprigs of that good old
tree known to the world as the tree of liberty. Both had
been sent to England for education by their guardian, where
they gained many English friends and habits, but their hearts
were trie to the soil of their birth; and, although Rufus was
intended for the army, and Stella was enjoying the rich
associations of refined society, yet when the British monarch
frowned upon the colonist, and vowed an oath of vengeance
which eventually fell upon his own head, Rufus and Stella
teft the gilded fountain of their happiness and hastened ta do

 

 
 

   

4 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

honor to the manes of their forefathers at the more humble
shrine of their beloved and injured country.

Rufus was now a Captain in the American army, and was
stationed at New York, where he and his sister occupied a
house, a portion of their joint heritage.

As the dangers of war had become more imminent, most
of the ladies and families of the officers had retired from its
vicinity, and Rufus implored his sister to join sorne of their
friends in Philadelphia; but Stella, inspired with the courage
of her race, could not be induced to quit a city where her
very presence lightened the burdens of many of those whose
poverty chained them to the spot. . Rufus loved his sister
dearly ; but he had no argument to oppose to these impressions
of self-duty, and ceased to urge her further on the subject.
In the intervals of leisure from military duties, Stella often
accompanied her.brother in his rides, and on this occasion she
had prevailed upon him to permit her to cross the ferry to
Brooklyn, a request rarely conceded. He was usually a
pleasant and amusing companion ; but deep thought was now
settled on his brow, and he who would have been formerly
so much delighted at, the eccentric pleasantries of his sister’s
Barb, now disregarded both horse and rider. They them-
selves were the only participants in the joy which they
created.

Soon Rufus and Stella emerged from the woody pass and
ascended a height which unfolded to their view a scene of
mighty grandeur. yen the sternness on the countenance of
Rufus relaxed into a smile as he gazed upon the gorgeous
panorama, and with enthusiasm he exclaimed :

“Stella, what magnificence !”

At their feet lay the bay of New York, like a lustrous
mirror, inclosed in the mighty frame-work of Jersey, Man-
hattan and Long Island. The sun was bidding farewell to
earth in all the splendor of his golden beams. The tide was
receding from the Sound and from the Hudson, meeting in
giddy confluence as it rushed toward its parent ocean, and
kissing in its flow the many islands which grace these fairy
waters. Then rose Staten Island, nature’s sentinel, guarding

the gateway of this huge lake—a diadem in the sea—a fortress

in the waters.

   
THE PRICE OF LIPERTY. 5

But the peaceful influence of this superb view was soon
destroyed as brother and sister made a more minute scrutiny.
In the ouler harbor were reposing upon the bosom of the
ocean between one and two hundred vessels of almost every
design in naval architecture—from the gigantic man-of-war,
rendered terrible by the rows of guns frowning from its ports,
to the almost worthless transport. They formed the fleet of
England, and conveyed a British army from the white cliffs
of proud Albion to attempt to subjugate tlie colonists who
dared to wish to be as free as her own people. The troops
and armaments had been landed on Staten Island, their place
of rendezvous, where they rested in their grandeur, displaying
to their puny foe their fearful power.

The brother and sister surveyed the fleet and the island
alternately. On the decks of the war vessels of the enemy
the watch only was visible, while those of tle transports were
tenantless. The heights of the island, however, were rendered
more picturesque. by the white tents of the foe, who, having
quitted the narrow limits of their ocean prisons, and
made this delightful island their habitation, now raised these
canvas tenements in the air and exulted, in their return to
land, in wild and healthful exercises. *

“Those are the woodmen, Stella,” said Rufus, with an
expression of contempt upon his upper lip, “ who, with swords
and fire, have come to hew down and consume the tree our ©
suffering fathers planted.”

“ Which,” said Stella, “ to pursue the metaphor, will prove
more tenacious of life than those countless artisans imagine.”

“But they are inveterate workmen, Stella,” continued
Rufus; “and, depend upon it, they will not retire from their
fell purpose and acknowledge their defeat until they have
drenched this devoted land with the blood of its patriot sons.”

“ Still, Rufus,” said Stella, her beautiful countenance lighted
with an animation that made her appear more than human,
“in all history it is recorded that the price of liberty is blood.
Never is this envied boon yielded by the’ grace of rulers. It
is wrested by the sword, and so fatal ‘is usually the struggle
that the sweets which freedom give to life are rarely enjoyed
by those who win them. It makes me almost regret my sex,
dear Rufus, that I, like you, can not participate in the holy

 
  

a aaa

   

  

6 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.
contest which will render-this age the glory of succeeding
generations. I feel that justice is in our cause—that it is the
strong arm in battle, and that a little David has arisen who,
in due time, will slay this vaunting Goliah whose arrogant
pennant now floats ove: our unconquered waters.”

“Tt is this feeling,” replied Rufus; “that arms our hearts,
and renews and determines our courage when we hesitate to
defy to deadly conflict the first nation of the world. Yet,
dea: Stella, much as our country is in want of warriors, I
would not have you otherwise than sister to myself; and,
indeed, considering your favorable response to certain requi-
sitions propounded by a brilliant son of Mars, you would not
happily quit so coveted an individuality and join us rough
and hardy troopers.”

Stella blushed deeply at this allusion of her brother, as
he gazed slily ori her face. She wished that her frolic Barb
would practice some of his wonted curvets that she might
shade the deep crimson of her face ; but he was perversely
stable, and seemed wholly engrossed by the attractions of the
bay below his nimble feet, the vessels in the outer harbor, and
the tents upon the isle—at least his fiery eyes were directed
toward these novelties ; so his fair mistress had to relieve the
maiden shame upon her cheek by the vivacity of her tongue.

“Who dwells in yonder villa,” exclaimed Stella, directing
her brother’s attention to a dwelling on the island, “ whence
that proud banner waves ?”

Rufus smiled significantly. He comprehended the tactics
of his darling sister, and then replied :

“Those are the quarters of General Howe, who commands
the army, and who will soon lead his legions against us.”

“What happy days, dear Rufus, we have passed in Eng-
land !” said Stella, the confusion having disappeared from her
face, leaving an expression of pain and regret as her thoughts
recurred to a happier period. “ With what delight we have
wandered through its grassy meadows and noble parks, ren-
dered more lordly by its mighty oaks~and antlered deer ;
danced on its mossy lawns; inhaled the rich perfume of its
gardens; listened to the melody of the blackbird, thrush,
and all the numerous family of feathered warblers, as they
announced the dawn of day and the approach of evening,
 

 
 

 

THE TRUE SON OF LIBERTY.

then, when this merry staff of minstrels had sought their rest,
and the fairy hours of twilight had yielded to those of dark-
ness, with what ecstasy we have listened to the plaintive notes
of the marvelous nightingale, who, despite the lateness of its
concert hour, poured into the atmosphere a flood of song that

~ was of ethereal sweetness.”

“Those are pleasing recollections, Stella,” said Rufus;
“but it was not to those my mind reverted as I looked toward
yonder hills.”

“{ have more poignant thoughts,” said Stella, “and they
press more heavily upon me now that the British legions
occupy the island. I do not forget our relatives, our friends,
and our associations. How dearly they loved! How kindly,
liberally they treated us! And, Rufus, that some of those
at whose table we have sat, of whose hospitality we have
frequently partaken, may be floating beneath the pennants
that so proudly wave from those ships’ masts, or be preparing
their arms in yonder tents—that your next meeting may be
in blood—your next embrace.in death.”

“Tf my former friends are among those who seek the
destruction of my country, they are now my foes,” replied |
Rufus. “I love the soil of my birth and of my fathers, and

. LT will uphold its banner as long as I have life. If friend or

relative come in the ranks of a hostile army to draw the
sword against the sacred rights of my native land, he shall
find me an uncompromising antagonist.”

“Yes, Rufus, you are my noble brother,” said Stella, with
great emotion—“a true son of liberty; and I, by a few acts
of kindness, have endeavored to be deserving as a daughter,
although the achievements of a poor sister can never cast
much brightness on your name.”

“ Indeed, Stella,” said Rufus, “you shed a greater luster
than you suppose. Those ‘few acts of kindness’ have: not
escaped the keen and observant eye of General Washington,
who, only yesterday, complimented me on the illustrious con-
duct. of my sister in administering to the wants of some,
allaying the fears and terrors of others, and of relieving him,
by her influence and her example, from importunities to
which he could not listen without pain, because he had no
power to grant their prayers. But I must hasten away.

  

 
   

8 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

_You have seen this terrible enemy, Stella, and now let us
turn our backs upon him, for to-day I am allowed that
privilege without the charge of cowardice.”

Rufus and Stella turned the heads of their horses and com-
menced to retrace the road which they had passed. Both
now were thoughtful. At length Stella said:

“Were not some of the soldiery removing their tents ?”

“T perceived nothing of the kind,’ replied Rufus. “‘ You
must be mistaken, Stella.”

But further conversation was interrupted is the approach
of a horseman. He was riding rapidly, and as he wore a
military costume, Rufus regarded him with great curiosity.
He was too distant to be more than merely distinguished ; but
as he approached, the quick eye of Stella detected him, and she
exclaimed :

“Why, it is Perey Archer !”

“You exceed me in the power of recognition,’ said Rufus,
smiling.

Stella blushed slightly at the perspicuity of her vision, not
that there was any cause’for shame in the acuteness of this
faculty, but there was an archness in :the look and words of
her brother which made her think that he felt no astonish-
ment at her so plainly discerning what was impossible in
him. The horseman advanced. Stella was correct—it was
Perey Archer. He was a handsome, soldierly man, with
expansive forehead, slightly Roman nose, fine gray eyes, and
rather long visage. He came forward with a smiling face,
evidently pleased to encounter such society. ,

“A jewel in the wilderness,” he exclaimed, as he raised
his cap to Stella, and then grasped her tiny hand, “ which
affords rare luster to such a dreary ride?

“But what causes this haste in you, Percy? 2” demanded
the impatient Rufus.

“T am in search of the enemy,” replied Percy.

“Well, you will find him beyond those hills—his vessels
sleeping on the waters which surround the island, and him-
self idling beneath his tents. Possibly this information will
enable you to join us and return.”

“Indeed, I can not,” replied Perey; “I must hasten on.
It is said that the enemy has struck his tents, end is even
now landing on this island.”

   
  

 

SCOUTING. 9

“Tt is impossible that such a movement should escape my
notice,” said Rufus.

“Perhaps the information is exaggerated,” said Percy,.
“or only affects a small detachment, which might be beyond
your view. I must ride on—the General charged me to
be quick. Forgive me, Stella,” he continued, addressing her
in a lower voice, “this rough greeting. You are now
between a soldier and his duty, who—”

“ Perey,” said Stella, with a smile, while she at the same
time backed» her steed and left open. the road before him,
“say not another word. My best wishes attend you; but
the road is dangerous; let me entreat you to guard against it.’””

“TY must accompany you, Percy,” said Rufus. “ Stella, ride
within the redoubt and await our return. You will be in
perfect safety there.”

Stella indicated her willingness, and the friends rode on.
Her horse, however, did not like this separation; and, while
he pawed the air with his foot, his mistress discussed whether
to yield obedience to her brother’s wishes or to gratify her
own. Although she’ had just quitted the scene to which
the journey of Percy and her brother was directed, where all
seemed tranquil, she could not divest her mind of the impres-
sion that there was some design beneath this assumed repose,
and that the consequence might be visited on those two bold -
cavaliers ‘on whom all her happiness depended. The painful
feeling so strengthened in her breast that she resolved to fol-
low them; and giving her willing Barb the réin, with a throb-
bing heart she flew with ‘the swiftness of an arrow toward the
pass.

CHAPTER II.
“THE CAPTURE AND THE RESCUE.

Prroy Arcuer was a bold and gallant Virginian, with
such a soul as Old Dominion at that time put into her sons,
With his large and generous heart he loved the world ; but for
his dear native country he had a devotion he could not afford
to other climes. He was too noble and manly to oppress or

.

 

  
 

10 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

live beneath oppression, and when he saw that it was necessary
to draw the sword or succumb to the haughty injustice of the
British monarch, he joined the patriot army, and was now
ajor of as gallant a regiment as ever withstood a foe. Gen-
eral Washington, who knew well his lion-hearted race,
esteemed him as a very promising soldier, and the youthful
warrior venerated every order of the General. In very early
youth Percy and* Stella had been friends, nor had distance,
nor the many years of absence, lessened the impression of her
loveliness on his heart. And Stella, though surrounded by
the gay and attractive flatterers of another land, did not for-
get the boyish devotion of the handsome Virginian. When
Percy heard that Rufus, with chivalric faithfulness, had re-
turned to the aid of his native land—that his noble friend had
quitted the luxuries of England to share the hardships and
dangers of America—he hastened to be early in his greetings,
and to his astonishment encountered Stella, grown into love-
liness far_exceeding the image in his heart, and so accom-
plished that he feared such surpassing qualities would never
assimilate with the rough but frank and manly manners of a
soldier. He soon found, however, that she was America’s
true daughter, though England’s pupil; that his ample heart
had admitted another love as well as that of his country, and ~
- he could enjoy no more happiness until he had extracted a
secret from Stella’s breast which she could not in truth conceal.
On the occasion of the meeting between Perey, and Rufus
and Stella, the former had been dispatched by Washington
to ascertain if the enemy was making any such movement
as had been reported. The interview was necessarily brief,
as the utmost rapidity was desirable. As the friends parted
from Stella, they rode with all the speed of their horses
toward the pass, that Percy might regain even the few
minutes he had shared in conversation. They soon came upor
those heights which afforded them a view of the island ané
the vessels. The tents of the enemy still whitened the hori
zon, and nothing indicated any intention to change thei)
position. Still, as they commanded only a partial view of the
coast, they determined to proceed and reconnoiter those points
hitherto unobserved. ae
a They rode on at great speed without uttering any other

a ‘at
A SURPRISE. il

observations than those in referencesto the ruggedness of the

path. No sound was heard but the panting of their steeds

and the heavy tread of their fect upon the sward, when
' suddenly, Percy exclaimed, without reining in his horse :

“Hark, Rufus, is not that the splash of oars ?”

“J hear nothing, Percy,” replied Rufus, “but the noise of
our horses.”

“Tt was repeated even while you spoke,” said Percy, in an
excited tone. -

“Then let us dismount, leave our horses in the copse, and
scramble up this height, which will afford us an extensive
view,” suggested Rufus.

They leaped from their horses, secured them, and had just
emerged from the woods, when both heard the sound of
voices.

“The enemy is landing, Rufus,” ejaculated Percy; “let us
up here, take one glimpse at them, and then to the General.”

They rushed up the rugged height, and before reaching
the summit, threw themselves on the ground, crept to the
highest point, where, pushing their heads through the tall
grass, they looked down upon the beach. Both were startled
at the picture. Several hundred soldiers had landed, and
boats still continued to arrive. They were fully armed, pro-
vided with rations, and regarded their position with the
utmost indifference. They were standing, lying and sitting,
and all merrily talking, as if they were in perfect security, and
had landed for enjoyment on a friendly coast.

“JT must rise,” said Percy, “ or the cool effrontery of these
men will overcome my prudence.”

“T never heard of such a debarkation,” rejoined Rufus;
“not a sentinel posted on the heights.”

“Your pardon, gentlemen, you are wrong,” said a strange
voice; then, before they could recover from their astonish-
ment and rise to their feet, the same voice exclaimed in
military command :

“ Soldiers, make ready, present !”

The movement of firearms was heard, and then there
was a deadly pause—na sound but the motion of the brush-
wood which was fanned by the breeze from the Atlantic—and:
when the friends rose from the ground, their eyes looked directly

e
>

 
 

    

   

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.
into the muzzles of six, muskets. Midway between them-
selves and the soldiers, who were thus prepared to deliver
a deadly volley, stood a tall non-commissioned officer, with a
drawn sword and formidable aspect. After the gallant
Sergeant—for that was his rank—had allowed Percy and Rufus
to comtemplate the nature of his preparations and their utter
helplessness, he said :

“Gentlemen, do you yield as prisoners of war ?

It was a bitter question to these young officers, who were
in all the fire of youth—in all, the energy of patriotic feeling
—to be thus ignominiously seized, before they could strike a
blow. They could not respond. They looked ingploringly
and despairingly around. On either side and behind were the
perpendicular sides of the cliff on which they stood, and which
conducted to the enemy on the beach; in front was the merci-
less platoon with loaded muskets. The Sergeant allowed
them time to consider their situation; but he saw their
despondency.

“ Gentlemen,” he repeated, “do you yjeld ?”

“To whom ?” asked Rufus.

“To Sergeant Jeopardy Scroggins, of his majesty’s”—and
he touched his cap in reverence—‘“ Fiftieth foot.”

“What is the alternative ?” asked Percy. —

“Death !” exclaimed this uncompromising disciplinarian.

“We yield,” said Rufus and Percy.

“ Gentlemen,” continued the, Sergeant, still immovable, “I
haye to request your paroles to join our forces on the beach.”

“ We will not be thus chained to engagements,” said Percy ;
“if we be your prisoners, march us to your camp; we will do
nothing voluntarily.”

“Well, well,” cried the Sergeant, good-naturedly, “ it shall
never be said that Sergeant Jeopardy Scroggins, of the Fiftieth,
denied quarter to a prostrate enemy.” Then, addressing him-
self to his men, he vociferated: “Recover arms!” and the
deadly muskets were thus removed from the leyel of their
prisoners’ hearts. .

The friends now breathed more freely, and made more
minute observations of their position. The soldiers stood
like statues, moving nothing but their eyes, with which they
watched every motion of their prisoners. The Sergeant had

¢

  
 

   

13

 

PRISONERS.

remoyed nearer to his force. He was a tall, straight, hardy
man, and had evidently seen much service. He seemed
aware of the deference due to officers, and, though bent on the
security of his captives, he would not display any undue haste,
After a time, ke approached Percy and Rufus, and giving the
military salute, he said : :

“Gentlemen, the chances of war haye placed you in my
power. You are the first specimens of the enemy yet taken,
and two finer officers can not head a regiment. May I ask
the honor of your names ?”

“JT am Major Archer,” said Percy.

“ And Bam Captain Westville,” said Rufus.

“Gentlemen, you have my sympathy,” said the Sergeant,
“and I would have rather taken you in the field than within
our picket.”

“ Within your picket!” exclaimed both Percy and Rufus,
in alarm. “We passed no sentinel— our object was to
reconnoiter.” :

The Sergeant, however, made no reply to this observation ;
but, as Percy and Rufus had declined to give their parole, he pre-
pared to march them in secure custody. He placed two of
his men in front, one on each side and two in the rear of
his prisoners, and with his guard thus disposed, gave the
order to move forward.. With all their bright hopes dashed
into darkness, with breasts torn with agony, these almost
frantic captives proceeded step by step toward a dectlivity’
which led to the British camp upon the beach.

In the meanwhile, Stella, mistrusting the security of the road,
which, up to the moment that Percy and Rufus had pursued
it alone, had seemed so safe, coursed along the unleveled
plain with all the energy of her willing steed. She saw the
friends ascend the ‘height whence she had viewed the enemy,
then, as if eager for a nearer scrutiny than the hill afforded,
they recommenced their journey toward the beach before she
could rejoin them.

“Fly, fly, my good Barb,” exclaimed Stella, “for my neart

mistrusts me that there is danger to Percy and my brother.”

The faithful horse put forth his wondrous powers, und
endeavored to outrun the wind beside him; but despite these
noble efforts in the chase, Percy and Rufus disappeared

 

  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

behind some trees, and when Stella reached the spot they
were not to be seen. She reined in her tireless Barb, thought
for a single moment, then plunged into the wood on the
margin of which she perceived the imprint of a horse’s foot.
She threaded the mazy trees until she discovered the tethered
steeds. Then riding to the edge of the wood at a different
point from that at which she had entered, she discovered
Percy and her brother clambering up a bluff at a short dis-
tance, and when they had nearly reached the summit they
cast themselves on the earth, as if to look from its height in
greater ease. ;

All around had the tranquillity of peace. The sun had

sunk below the horizon, the gloom of evening was descend-
ing, and the fears of Stella began to subside, when she saw,
rising from a hollow behind those dear objects of her care,
who were still prostrate on the earth, some very ominous
glittering bayonets, then some military caps, then the heads
which fitted them, and next the royal scarlet of the enemy.
It was a file of the British, commanded by a non-commis-
sioned officer. They made their appearance about half way
up the bluff on which Percy and Rufus still reclined, and as they
came into full view, Stella observed that by some sign, for no
word was uttered, the men wheeled toward the summit of the
precipice, and now held her brother and her devoted Percy at
their mercy.
+ The blood rushed back upon her heart, and left her face
cold and livid as marble. She clasped her hands and held
them in supplication toward Heaven, but could not follow
them upward with her eyes for they were on the tableau in
the distance. A voice addressed her; but she was dead to
the sense of hearing. A finger pressed her elbow; but she
was impervious to a touch so gentle. The faculties of her
mind were absorbed in one great terror.

“Lady,” exclaimed a voice, determined to be heard, and at
the same time a firm hand grasped her arm, “Lady, you are
ill—you are agitated—I am a soldier, and will assist you.”

The word “ soldier,’ was one of enchantment to her ear.
She withdrew her eye from its fascination, she regarded the
speaker, recognized the uniform of the American army, and
exclaimed :
THE RESCUE, 15

“Two of your comrades—officers—young, brave, and dear
to me and to your country—are the prisoners of the British,
who are about to shoot them.”

The soldier, who was an officer in a rifle brigade,

regarded this appeal as the raving of a distempered mind. ~

He could see nothing of what was transpiring where he stood,
in consequence of the underwood in front; but, seated on her
horse, Stella looked over this, and she now implored him so
earnestly to mount a tree, that he did so. In a moment he
comprehended the imminence of the danger of his brother
officers. >

“Young lady, I will not now apologize for my rudeness—
every moment is of value. I see the peril of those gentlemen
and the remedy. You are well mounted. If you can act
with coolness and decision I will save them—if you yield to
these helpless lamentations, it will tend to disarm me.”

“Sir,” said Stella, grasping the hand of the officer, “ your
words endow me with life, while the hand of death is on my
heart. Most joyfully will I follow your commands. My
horse is equal to any duty, and I will be a faithful subaltern.”

“Pursuing nearly a direct course,” said the officer, “ about
half a mile from here, some of my men are biyouacked. Tell
six of them to approach in the most stealthy manner to the
underwood on the margin of the bluff that overlooks the
beach. Let them arm lightly. They need no muskets—they
will be provided by the enemy. I will meet them there.
Now, young lady, hasten on your errand! Ride back again ;
skirt those woods to the right, and make your appearance
fearlessly in front of the bluff, that so rare a vision may lessen
the attention which those gentlemen in scarlet may bestow
upon our operations. With diligence on all sides, your friends

- will be at liberty in half an hour. Should my men not

arrive in time to participate in the rescue, do not believe me
without other device. I trust we shall meet again in triumph.”

The officer and Stella pursued their separate routes. The
soldiers were discovered by Stella and were no sooner made
aware of the commands of their Captain, than they were strid-
ing through the forest toward the place of rendezvous. In
the mean while, Stella retraced her steps, followed the course
lirected by the officer, and debouched vpon the open space in

 
   

  

16 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

front of the bluff, just as Percy and her brother, guarded by
the British, were about to turn down the declivity to embark
atthe beach. The prisoners, amazed at this sudden appearance
in the face of danger of one whom they considered so distant
and so safe, paused in their descent. The Sergeant and bis
men, partaking of the surprise, sympathized in the halt,
although in the perfection of their discipline they continued
to move their feet as if upon the march. Stella, adhering
strictly to directions, rode forward at a walking pace, seem-
ingly indifferent at what she saw, though her eyes were
straining to perceive the hope that was not then in view.

Presently, however, there was a gentle movement of the
bushes in the rear of the soldiers as if they were disturbed by
the air that came refreshingly from the Atlantic; and then to
her alone were visible the forms of men. ‘The officer—for it
was he and his bold followers—as he emerged from his leafy
shelter, placed a finger hastily on his lips to impress on her
the importance of silence as well as self-possession, . Stella
then saw this, hidden little band, led by their wary chief—
on whose success rested their lives, the lives of those she
loved, and, probably, her own—pass stealthily toward the
unsuspecting foe. Mer feelings were intensely.terrible, and
she felt wholly unequal to the drama that seemed preparing.
Her happiness—the feeling of her young heart—was.centered
in the efforts of another minute, which a eee of one of
those stern soldiers might dispel.

At this crisis a love of gambol seized her capricious steed.
He leaped into the air, and while the eyes of the soldiers were
riveted on these unusual pranks, Stella saw a rush, an admix-
ture of scarlet and green among the men, then confused
wrestling, then a separation, and then—oh, victory to the
joyous love of Stella !—the Greens formed in line with arms
in their hands in front of the Scarlet-coats, who were now the
prisoners. The attack had been boldly conceived and dex-
trously achieved. Every one of the British was disarmed
except the Sergeant, who had been so violently hurled to the
ground as to be rendered, for a time, insensible. Percy and
Rufus recognized the uniform, and were as much delighted at
the daring exploit as at their own liberty, They ranged
themselves in line with the heroic commander.

 
 

  

SURRENDER. 17

The discomfited Sergeant recovered his consciousness and
rose from the earth. There was a cloud upon his brow as he
hastily surveyed the defenseless condition of his men, He
was a dauntless fellow, had heard his rivals greatly underrated,
and therefore did not despair of regaining what he had so
shamefully lost.

“ Soldiers,” he vociferatead, as he stepped before his men,
and waved his sword in the air, “let us show these people
what we can do without our muskets. Advance and recover
your arms !”

The men hesitated. They knew the deadly charge their
arms contained, and the glittering bayonets, directed by
powerful arms, were nearly at their breasts. The Sergeant,
however, still. cried..out ‘‘ Advance,’ and was about to
precipitate himself upon the Americans, when. Percy stepped
forward, exclaiming :

“Braye Englishman, accident. placed me and my friend in
your power—a rival incident has released us fromit. Let the
rescue be as bloodiess as the capture. The soldiers of my
gallant friend are as fearless as your own; but, with arms in
their hands, are. trebly your match. If, therefore, you
advance, you die. Ifyou refrain, you are at liberty to return
to your camp.”

The Sergeant curbed his impetuosity at. these words of
Perey. He regarded the conditions offered as honorable
under the circumstances; still, he felt the humiliation acutely.

“T accept the terms,” he said, in reply. Then exclaiming,
“Fall in, men!” he added, addressing himself to Percy and
Rufus: “If this be a sample of your army, we shall have
stouter work than our officers have promised us; but I would
rather meet a bold enemy than a cowardly one, especially as
it will require some valor to blot out from the memory of the
regiment the day when Sergeant Jeopardy Scroggins lost six
stand of arms without firing a ball.”

The defeated Sergeant marched his soldiers hastily toward
the beach, to report to his listless officers the catastrophe
which had occurred upon the hill.

As the Sergeant disappeared, Percy seized the hand of the
officer who had effected his liberation.

“T can not sufficiently extol the daring adventure by which

 

  
 

18 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY,

I and my friend are again free and restored to the service of
my country. No words can express one-half of what I feel.
You have knocked from my limbs the fetters of imprisonment
before they were endured an hour. Yet that little space
in time was almost an age in suffering. It is like stepping
from death to life.”

Before the officer could reply, Stella and Rufus came up,
the former still mounted, but greatly excited, which was
evident from the tears still glittering in her eyes. She caught
the officer by the hand.

“There are feelings,” she said, “ which are the property of
the heart. They seem too pure for words. They flow from
my eyes in tears. I have no words to express my appreciation
of your services. Your generous courage has restored to
happiness and to life myself, my brother, and—”

“My dear young lady,” interposed the officer, in some
agitation despite his endeavors to conceal it, “you overrate a
soldier’s services. His life is one of daring. He lives upon
such adventures as you have witnessed. It is food to the
appetite created by his profession, and he would scarcely
think his uniform unsullied if his life was not in danger once
or twice each week. Iam proud that I have delivered from
bondage two such able coadjutors in the defense of my dear
country as these worthy friends, and that their freedom has
rendered solace to your heart; but, when I behold these
laurels—the muskets of the foe—which now furnish the arms
of my bold followers, I think, my dear lady, we owe our
gratitude to you for affording us the clue to such a victory.”

The officer forestalled further demonstrations by intimating
that a detachment of the enemy would be immediately sent in
pursuit, and therefore suggested a retreat. The party directed
their course to the point where the horses of Percy and Rufus
were tethered. There they separated, Stella and her brother
and Percy retracing the road which led to Brooklyn, and the
officer and his men repairing to their little encampment.

It was now quite dark, and even Barb had become prudent
and sober in his paces. The friends were constrained to proceed
very slowly over the broken plain. Rufus considerately led
the way, leaving Percy and Stella to follow in the rear, who
were far more indebted to the sagacity of their horses than
the care of their own guidance for the safety of their travel.

~e =
NEW YORK IN A PANIC. 19

Ulex tit Tre.
PREPARING FOR THE FRAY.

Wuen the friends returned to New York, the city was
greatly excited. Intelligence had preceded them of the

landing of the British, accompanied by such wild reports as

appalled the unthinking. Mothers were rushing through the
streets imploring the authorities for assistance they could not
yield, while the children re-echoed the despair of their parents
in tears and screams. The timid trader, less noisy in his fear,
though no less intent on flight, was seen in meek intercession
with the carman to convey his goods from the scene of danger,
whose obdurate nature, penetrafing the alarm which his
suppliant was wishful to conceal, yielded only to a hire which
made one-half the goods his own. Detachments of soldiers -
were. marching to and fro; messengers were hastening from
place to place; drums were beating; trumpets were sounding ;
guns were firing; thieves, like. hungry wolves, were prowling
about the streets and lanes, seeking their repast amid this
chaos. Still, from the trenches uprose the sound of the
mattock and the spade, and the glittering lights showed the
thousands who were still busy in defense, the commanders
urging the men to make their works yet stronger with the
iron band of their labor. aaee

Percy, astounded at the commotion in the city, hastened to
head-quarters, while Rufus and Stella pursued the way to
their residence. At the entrance to their dwelling stood two
negro slaves—a male and female. They had been born in the
family, and were presented to them when only three years of
age, in conformity with a custom toward the children of the
house. Thus Cesar had become the slave of Rufus, and Chloe
that of Stella. Devoted to their young owners, they now
greeted their return by an ample exhibition of polished ivory.

“Oh, Massa Ruf!” exclaimed the delighted Cesar, as he
grasped the horse’s rein.

“Oh, Miss Stel !” vociferated Chloe, with equal joy; “dem
Britishers am cum—dey be here dis night. Oh, wherebber

 
   

20 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

shall we go—wherebber shall we go?” and tears poured from
ba poor glave’s eyes.

“Tt is folly, Chloe,” said Stella. “There is no occasion for
the alarm the people manifest. There is no immediate
danger. The British will not be here to-night. I have seen
the English. I have been close to their encampment.”

Poor Chloe had formed a frightful idea of those terrible
islanders, who had been so long dreaded, and whose approach
caused, such dismay throughout the city. She knew that their
tents had long whitened the horizon of the harbor, and that
they had arrived in ships so numerous as far to exceed the
powers of her arithmetic. Thata lady so young and beautiful
as her mistress should venture near enough to see those giant
people was almost incredible, especially when ‘she witnessed
the-frantic. ravings in the streets that night of the white people
who had only heard of the enemy’s approach. Having
entered the house, Rufus prepared to-hurry away.

“T can not delay my departure an instant, my dear Stella,”
said her brother... “I must join my regiment. Now will
commence the struggle.” %

“There are duties, too, incumbent upon me,” replied
Stella. “I must go forth into these troubled streets. and
endeayor)to calm this storm of cowardice. Our city must not
ring with the lamentations of women while brave men are
making every effort to defend them.”

“Right, Stella,” said Rufus. “This piteous wail of women
and their children ought to be suppressed. It saddens the
hearts of our brave fellows, and may lessen their ardor for the
coming battle.”

The brother and sister separated. Stella then, attired in a
walking dress, summoned Chloe to attend her. She saw the
dejection of her slave, but only bid her follow, trusting that
she would imbibe a lesson in the sequel. -Then the heroic
girl repaired to those districts where the excitement was most
intense, among the poorer classes. She was known, respected,
and her coming was heralded as that of one who ever
brought comfort.

“My dear friends,” commenced Stella, “why do you add
this clamor to the horrors of an eventful night? Is there
nothing more worthy of American matrons and daughters at

   
 

    

STELLA. 21

this frightful crisis than groans? Are you emulous to
withdraw yourselves from a danger pending over all? Are
wives: anxious to leave their husbands, and sisters their
brothers, before they are prostrate, wounded and dying upon
the battle-field, when they will need most care? I was
urged, entreated, to quit the dangers of this city before the
strife began, but I resisted the importunities. I know that
hundreds of our countrymen must succumb to the penalties
of war, and, as I can not enter the battle-field as a son of
liberty, I am resolved to attend the hospitals as a daughter.
Look into your hearts. Ask what must be the feelings of
distant mothers and. wives and sisters, to think of their
devoted sons, husbands, or brothers sinking beneath their
wounds for the want of the tender care of woman, and what
blessings you would earn by contributing to the comfort of
these bleeding patriots. Indulge, then, no longer in the
coward thoughts that give rise to sorrow, but imitate in
endurance the men whom you now see working in the
trenches, and whose duty it may be to fight in the ranks of
liberty to-morrow. The enemy is not so terrible nor so
irresistible as you imagine. I have seen thie formidable
antagonist in his camp in Gravesend Bay. There he still lies.
More I have to tell.. The first battle has been fought, and
the Americans are triumphant. My brother and Major
Archer Were taken prisoners, were being marched to the
enemy’s camp, when an equal number of Americans, unarmed,
rushed upon the British guard, struggled with them, seized
their arms, rescued the two officers, and marched off the
ground in triumph, bearing the muskets of the foe. I saw
the battle fought. It was a valiant deed,-and while I tell it
you, I supplicate that you repay such achievements with your
gratitude, your approbation, and your aid in ease of need.”
The sweet voice of Stella was magical. Smiles could be
seen upon those faces so recently distorted by grief. The
first battle had been fought and won! The feeling charmed
their hearts, and numbers now approached Stella to seize her
hand, and to assure her that her advice should be their guide.
Stella was not less pleased than her disciples, for by her
teachings she had not only given peace to many broken hearts,
but eventually restored comparative quietude to the female
and juvenile population of the city.

  
   

  

22 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Chloe was not the least attentive listener. Her narrow
faculties strained at the meaning of every sentence, and she
thought she comprehended the moral of the whole.» But,
while she admired the marvelous power the words of her
beautiful mistress had obtained over this weeping and noisy
multitude, she wondered by what inflection of speech it was
that made the tears to gush from her own eyes, and her heart
to leap and bound, when those of the white people around
were softened into smiles, and their sorrow was converted
into joy. She could only think that the difference in effect
arose from a dissimilarity in color. She did not imagine that
the emotion sprung from a purer love which filled her ebony
heart.

No one retired to bed that night—soldier or civilian—
mother .or daughter. Houses were little occupied; all were
anxiously looking out upon the waters to see if the British
ships were coming up the bay, and, as the vision was as
distorted as the mind, Governor’s and Bedloe’s islands were
many times reported to be the flag-ship of the enemy’s fleet.

Stella awaited anxiously the return of Rufus, from whom
she hoped toghear something of the movements of the army,
while Chloe and Cesar sat in the kitchen discussing the
excitements of the night. The former so represented the
rescue affair to the latter, that, on the following morning,
Cesar was busy relating to those who would.lister® to him
how a mighty battle had been fought on Long Island between
the Americans and the British, the former without their
muskets, the latter armed to the teeth, and how the Americans
came off in triumph, capturing the enemy’s arms and baggage.

Toward morning Rufus returned. It was to take a hasty
farewell of his sister. He was ordered to Long Island, and
might not again see her until he had passed through the
ordeal of battle. He had not seen Percy. Both were deeply
affected. They embraced, promised to meet again if possible
that day, and separated.

 
THE SPECTER. 23

eck tak Piety oY,
. THE MYSTIC VISITOR.

On reaching head-quarters, Percy Archer accounted for his
delay, by relating his narrow escape. He was scarcely con-
gratulated upon his deliverance, so great was the confusion
occasioned by the landing of the British, attended, as it was,
by the suspicion that the movement was a feint of the enemy
to withdraw attention from an attack intended upon New York.

Percy received instant orders to proceed along the whole
coast of Manhattan Island; to urge the strictest watch; to
double the sentinels at every point, and to inspire the soldiery
with a will to discharge the duties of men and patriots. He
gladly undertook the onerous duty, rode along the line, an-
nounced the approaching conflict, and impressed upon the
sentinels the necessity of the utmost vigilance. He also
endeavored to cheer their lonely guard, and excite their emula-
tion by narrating the incident which had occurred to him that
evening, and how gallantly the daring riflemen disarmed the
British. It was a grateful episode upon the eve of battle, and
gave to, their hearts an ardency which made them long to rival
such bold deeds. :

It was after midnight before Percy had visited all the posts,
and being well assured that the shore was scrupulously guarded,
he directed his course toward the city. The night was dark,
the road was perilous and- dreary, and his progress was neces-
sarily slow. Impatient at the impediment when every moment
seemed an hour, he leaped from his horse, hoping by walking
to accélerate his speed; but, he had undervalued the sagacity
of his steed, which was by far the most accomplished pioneer.
The roughness of the path did not, however, entirely occupy
the mind of Percy. His thoughts reverted to a comparison
between the troops which he had just visited and those whom
he had seen assembled on the beach at Gravesend, which was
really disparaging to the men mustered to defend the liberties of
his country. As he walked and pondered by what strategy this
weakness might be counterbalanced, he suddenly perceived

 
   

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.
that he was not alone—that, on a narrow path, where
the darkness was made more gloomy by trees on either side,
a companion had stealthily joined him and now walked silently
by his-side. Percy began to scrutinize this speechless figure,
as well as the night permitted. In stature it was tall, and was
enveloped in a robe which descended to*the feet. Upon its
head was nothing but its hair, which was white, and hung
down upon its shoulders. He could see no more until they
came to an open glade where there was increased light. Then
Percy was appalled. The blood chilled in his veins—his hair
stood erect in horror at the ghastliness of this fell associate.
Its nose was short as if deprived of the cartilage, its facial

bones projected, while its cheeks receded deep in the hollow |

of its teeth, showing the bony structure of the jaws. Its lips,
the mere thickness of the skin, seemed fitted to the teeth. It
was like the impersonation of Death, who, attempting a dis-
guise, had introduced his skeleton frame into a human skin,
rendering his fleshless bones a thousand times more frightful.
Percy had paused and receded a step or two as he contem-
plated this specter, which now confronted him. His utterance
was suspended, and, though his courage was still sustained,
he could not dismiss the terrible conviction that he was in
the presence of the reanimated dead. The specternow raised
his hand, which, to Percy, was as unearthly as his head, and
pointed toward the course that Percy was pursuing, as if
it wished not to-interrupt the journey; but the gallant Major
had his prejudices against renewing travel in such equivocal
society. He would not say so—his tongue would not permit
him—it positively refused to articulate; still, he hoped the
ghostly form who thus delivered injunctions with his hand,
would remember the unconquerable repugnance that existed
between the quick and dead. But this grim counsellor, heed-
less of what was passing in the mind of Percy, again, and
more impatiently pointed toward the road and took a step in
advance, Then, seeing that his gestures had no effect, it said:
“You are a bold soldier, but a timid man.”
This language was too plainly insulting to the warm blood
of Percy. It restored speech to his tongue, and he replied:
“TI am not Jessa man than a true soldier, and will defend
my honor even against the grave.”

   
MARVELS. 26

The specter gaye a hideous and contemptuous smile, and
then exclaimed :

“The grave is not troubled with the willfalness of boys;
but enough—your stagnant blood is refreshed; proceed, our
courses lie in the same direction.”

“First tell me who and what you are,” said Percy.

There was a glare from those unmeaning eyes that, for the
moment, to Percy’s imagination, lighted the immediate region
of his head. a

“T am a mystery to myself and to the world,” said. the
specter. “Iam he who walks in the‘dark at the fell hour of
night, when bats come forth from their damp and gloomy
holes, when reptiles croak, and when fierce animals howl
through the wilderness in search of. prey, and strew my path
with blood.. I am he who, like the eagle and the vulture,
and the lesser feathered monsters of the air, scent blood from
afar and hasten to the banquet. I am he who lived in past
generations, who lives in this; for my existence depends on
circumstances and not on years. I love your cause: it is
that of freedom to yourselves, and eventually to the world.
It is catholic in its nature, pungent in flavor, and must be
triumphant in its issue.” :

Percy listened’ in astonishment to these extraordinary
words. The eyes of the speaker flashed with unnatural bril-
liancy, tntil he alluded to the pending struggle. Then the
frantic energy left his eye and his voice, and he spoke as if
his soul was deep in the interest of America. Perey led for-
ward his horse, and the fearful stranger again placed himself
so that they walked on side by side. __

“T learn nothing,” resumed Percy, “from what you have
said, but that you are the friend of my country.” :

“Ys not that enough, young Archer,” rejoined the specter,
to the amazement of Percy. “Is not that enough, when that
country is also mine and my heritage is there? Know you
the thousands of patriots who have assembled to fight the
battles of the State 2?” s

“But you approach me in so eccentric 2 manner,” said
Percy ; “Cin the dead of night, in the loneliness of this dense
forest, at a’ tithe when men’s suspicions are awakened by
enemies around.”

 

 

a

 
   

26 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“You found those sentinels steady to their duty ?” inter-
posed the specter, disregarding the observations of Percy, who,
feeling indignant, did not reply.

“T roused their sleepy noddles long before your visit,” he
continued, “although I knew and_ know that the British will
not attack New York until after they have possession of Long
Island; but I want to accustom the knaves to vigilance.”

“Why do you thus predict the success of the English at
Long Island?” asked Percy.

“As men bet on races who see the runners,” said the
specter, “so do I judge a battle by the fighters :—the British
have two to one.”

“Have you penetrated the British camp ?” asked Percy.

“Trouble me not,” thundered the specter, in impatience,
“with these inquiries. Have I not the enemy in my eye,
landing his troops throughout the night? They even now
extend up the country far beyond the bluff where you and
your friend were so prettily entrapped among the brambles.”

“ Whence obtained you that knowledge ?” asked Percy.

“Whence, indeed!” exclaimed the specter, in contempt.
“Tt is my power—my gift of wisdom, which I wield for good.
Was it nota giant force that influenced the mind of the
charming Stella Westville, with the presentiment that the road
which she had just traveled with such safety was perilous to
you, so that she followed you and Rufus, and rescued you
from becoming prisoners ?”

- Percy. pondered with amazement on these words of the
gaunt stranger. They seemed to infer that he was a mystic
agent in the conduct of Stella, and,-although Percy rejected
this as too absurd, he dared not to question its truth in the
awful presence of the specter, who continued to walk beside
him with celerity and ease, while both he and his horse were

impeded by the ruggedness of the path at almost every

step.

“To-morrow will be a day of preparation,” continued the
specter. “Howe will land in person. There will be no
fighting ; but, the next day the grassy plain will be dyed with
blood. Your courage will beneeded. Do yourduty. How-
eyer appalling, sustain your cause. Fight dauntlessly, and
with hope; and, even though the sword be at your heart, a

   
THE SPECTER VANISHES. 27 s

greater power than that of the enemy shall make him your
victim.” :

“T need no instruction in my path of duty,’ ventured
Percy, in an undertone.

“ Reject no counsel, rash youth,” exclaimed the specter, in
a severe tone, “especially when proffered by one who has
witnessed the errors of forgotten ages. You ask for liberty.
It is a peerless jewel; but a price is set upon it equal to its
brilliancy. Many nations have adventured blood and treasure
and endurance to acquire this coveted gem, and when almost
within their grasp they have receded in affright from the last
bold effort, and all their previous mightiness was wrecked in
cowardice. The price of human liberty is human blood! Let
the patriots of this clime rush fearlessly to the shambles, that
their children may inherit almost fabulous prosperity.”

“Tnscrutable being !” said Percy.

“ Yes,” interposed the specter, “I am indefinable to myself
and well may I be inexplicable to others.” He spoke this in
a melancholy tone: then immediately resuming his former
energy, he continued: “But, I am supreme wherever I go.
In the forest, I command; and, in the cities, I guide. The
knowledge of moldering ages is impressed upon my brow,
and man yields to it in homage, and the brute in fear. Soldier,
my mission is ended. Prove yourself worthy of your race,
and succor shall never be asked by you in yain.”

At this moment, Percy not only stumbled, but fell to the
earth. He rose immediately, cast his eyes upon the place
where the specter had stood; but it was gone! It had dis-
appeared as silently as it had come. Percy did not lament
the absence of such an unearthly associate. He could not,
however, divest his mind of the feeling of awe with which
the specter had encumbered it. In vain he urged upon his
conviction that the solemn hour, the intense obscurity of the
night, the lonely and abandoned neighborhood, and the stealthy
appearance of the visitant, contributed much to the general
effect upon his excited faculties’ There was nothing unreal
in that ghostly face, and it was so palpably visible to his eye
that he could not obliterate a lineament of its unsightliness
He began to fear, too, that he had been enticed within the
circle of some enchantment—that it was not a tree which had

 
   

28 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

caused his fall, but the stony back:of some lurking demon,
and that even the fluttering leaves upon the trees began to
form distortive and sportive faces, and scoff at his predicament.
Despite these horrible fascinations, he staggered to his horse,
clambered to his back, and giving the steed the rein, was soon
borne in safety to the city. There he was roused from his
thoughtfulness. It was still in uproar, still in fear, still in
apprehension ; but, that most poignant of all cries, which had

. given a thrill of agony to his heart as he dashed through
the streets when he quitted the city, was now hushed—the
lamentations of the women and children had subsided, and
when he inquired the cause of this gratifying abatement in
the confusion, he heard, with pride, that it was accomplished
by the unassisted efforts of his beloved Stella.

Percy reached head-quarters fatigued in mind and body,
but quite incompetent to repose. Well that he did not covet
slumber, for he was ordered instantly to Brooklyn, whither
his regiment had gone in his absence, and where it was
thought there would be immediate fighting. Small streams
of light—mere pencilings—were now radiating through the
darkness of the east. It was too early for Percy to visit Stella,
so he passed the house, pronounced a blessing on its roof and

the fair one it sheltered, crossed the ferry, and joined his regi-.

ment. As he passed over, his thoughts recurred to the
prediction of the specter, that there would be no battle on that
day; but, when he landed, a hundred rumors met his ear,
some of which multiplied the force, others its contiguity to
Brooklyn, and others its terrible array; but, he soon ascertained
that the morning scouts had not come in; hence, it was
certain, the British had not advanced beyond the village of
Flatbush.

   
 

  

A NIGHT ATTACK.

C HdAoP Taam VW
THE BATTLE OF LONG ISLAND.

Sraren Isuanp had poured out her legions, various in
nation and in language, but formidable in numbers and
appointments. The hardy Scot, the ponderous. German,
the gay and fitful Hibernian, had united with the Saxon in
this crusade. against the rights of man to self-government.
This army, rather mosaic in its construction, was commanded
by General Howe, and was conveyed in a fieet of boats from
the island of its. rendezvous to Gravesend Bay, whence it
advanced to Flatbush. There it had paused, and still rested
on the arrival of Perey Archer in Brooklyn, having driven
the American advance-guard toward the woods. y ee

General Washington was in considerable. consternation. ~
General Greene, to whose able management had been intrusted

* the defense of the island, was seized with fever, and was not

only unable to keep the field, but his mind was not sufficiently
composed to allow him to communicate his plans to others.
In this position of affairs General Putnam was appointed to
the command. After the hasty inspection of a few hours, he
prepared to-receive the, British. Percy was ordered forward
with his regiment, and so also had been Rufus; but they
occupied different ground. Night ensued withont the advance
of the enemy, and now came the necessity of double vigilance.
Those who did not watch slept on their arms.

The British, however, were only affectedly inert. They
were resolving the plan of battle in their tents, and but wanted
the concealment of night to put it in operation. When dark-
ness vailed their schemes, two detachments proceeded from
the main body—one toward the Narrows, the other toward
Bedford and Jamaicas. The former was to skirt the bay and
advance toward Brooklyn; the latter was to cross the Bedford
Hills, and, turning the American left, attack them in the rear,
while those remaining at Flatbush, consisting mainly of Ger-
muns, were to advance from the camp; but both were cau-
tioned not to make any great demonstration until the guns

 

  
 

30 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

of the British were heard in the rear of the Americans. The
detachment intended for Bedford Iills was accompanied by
General Howe in person, and was commanded by Sir Henry
‘Clinton and Lord Cornwallis. It was guided by a knavish
Tory so unerringly that, before morning dawned, it had seized
the Jamaica road and was marching in safety through the
pass, where they had ascertained, from a patrolman captured,
that the American rear was unguarded. Then, while the
Germans were slightly engaging the Americans at the center
pass, and Colonel Grant was fighting in a similar cautious
manner on the road skirting the coast, the guns of General
Howe suddenly boomed upon the air. To the Americans it
was an almost fatal sound, for they were taken in the rear;
while, to the other British forces, it was the signal to advance
with vigor. Their stratagem had succeeded.

Percy’s regiment was opposed to the forces commanded by
Colonel Grant, who, when he heard the fiery signal of his
coadjutor’s cannon, redoubled his efforts to advance. The
conflict was terrible. The British at this point were two to

one; but the Americans yielded their ground by steps, and ~

that only in death, until the carnage in so limited a field was
horrible.

But, at every point, American blood was flowing. Rufus
was opposed to the center battalion of the enemy. When he
saw the desperate position of his men—dropping momentarily
between the merciless firing of the enemy in front and rear,
few officers escaping, and even his General (Sullivan) taken
prisoner—he gathered a few of his own company, exhorted
them to follow him, and, with this little desperate band,
plunged upon the enemy in his rear. They passed through a
frightful ordeal, lost nearly three-fourths of their number, and
the bleeding remnant reached the redoubt to bear intelligence
of the horrors from which they had escaped.

General Washington, from a commanding eminence, saw
the unequal fight so valiantly maintained by the forces with
which Percy fought; he saw the gradual extermination of
his bold soldiers, but he could afford them no relief—ne
succor. But, while he beheld with agony inconceivable what
seemed to portend the tragic doom of every man, a yet more
fearful danger was approaching, visible to him though concealed

    

 

 
 
 

THE FIELD OF CARNAGE, 81

from the struggling patriots. Lord Cornwallis, screened by
the projection of the wood, was advancing to reinforce the
overwhelming British with his grenadiers. The mighty
Washington dared scarcely contemplate the consequence of
this assault from their unseen enemy, and each step that the
swift Cornwallis took was a dagger to his agitated breast, for
the Americans were still unconscious of the armed hundreds
which a few minutes would disclose.

At this crisis of the engagement a lady, mounted upon a
spirited horse, was seen to dash from the wood and ride
toward the combatants. The animal she rode was regardless
of the nature of the route he had to pass. The course was
broken and irregular to an extreme degree, and intersected by
deep ravines and steep ascents; but the gallant steed was
equal to every impediment. He dextrously slid down the
hollows, scrambled up the precipitous hills, leaped the masses
of stone that encumbered the plain, avoided contact with the
numerous fallen trees, and, had it not been for the fatal strife,
he would have been admired as a marvel of hiskind. The
rider, too, was as steady in the saddle as the courser in the
race. She sat as if a portion of the animal, and crossed that
field of blood, amid the wounded, the dying and the dead,
only intent upon the rescue of the living. For a moment the
slaughter ceased. Neither side would jeopardize this fair and

intrepid courier, and, by a tacit gallantry, not a gun was

fired. The lady, with undiminished speed, rode toward Lord
Sterling, who commanded this division of the American
forces. Beside him stood Percy Archer. ‘The lady was seen
to shudder as she with difficulty recognized him, so fierce and
so disfigured did he appear in the black and bloody harness
of the day. But she smothered all other thoughts in that of
her mission.

“From the cover of yonder wood the enemy is advancing
with double the numbers to which you are now so fatally
opposed. Let me implore you to retreat. Our country can
not afford to lose such valiant men. There is yet a narrow
path to safety.”

At this moment a few of Cornwallis’ men debouched from
the wood. The British perceived them, received them. with
@ cheer, and renewed the battle with redoubled ardor.

 
   
 

|

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Percy, leaning upon his sword as if to recruit himself from
exhaustion, was astounded at the sweet voice which now
sounded upon his ear, and he could only articulate :

“Stella !”

It was indeed that noble girl who had defied all th.e perils
and the horrors of battle to save Percy and his valiant coad-
jutors. Lord Sterling saw how hopeless was victory now
that the British were thus powerfully reinforced, and how
desperate was defense. He therefore exclaimed :

“ Major Archer, we must attempt to save a few of our
brave fellows. Let us fall back upon Gowanus Bay.” Then,
addressing Stella, he continued, taking her hand: “ Fair lady,
a soldier has but few words at such a time as this; but, with
such sons and daughters, the freedom of America is assured,
notwithstanding the calamities of this day.”

The Americans: were now in retreat. Stella saw the
expression of deep anxiety in Percy’s countenance ; but she
would not hear him speak, and said, rapidly:

“Percy, fi know this locality well. I will be your guide
to safety if it be possible to escape this terrible slaughter.”

Stella then dashed forward toward the place indicated, that
she might be a star of hope to the wounded soldiery. She
soon stood upon the banks of the creek fed by the tidal water
from Gowanus Bay, and which supplied the mills erected
beyond. She saw that the tide was flowing, and that the
utmost energy was needed. The men’ were -retreating to
where she stood, but were yielding to the enemy stubbornly,
as if they were not willingly seeking safety with so many of
their comrades unreveged upon the fatal field. Stella
watched the falling men and the rising waters with equa
alarm. At Jength the Americans reached the bank, but they
were followed at their very heels by the remorseless enemy.

“Order your men into the creek, Percy!” exclaimed the
indomitable Stella. “Tt is the Red Sea to us. ‘The tide is
not yet deep enough to drown, and, though we may be suc-
cored, those of the enemy who attempt to follow will perish.”

“For God’s sake, hasten over, dear Stella!” exclaimed
Percy, in agitation. “I and my brave fellows will cross
instantly.”

“TI go, Percy,” replied Stella—“but lose not 1 moment,
There is life in promptness—death in delay!”

 

 

 

 

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RETREAT. 83.

Thus saying, she plunged into the advancing waters, which —
were not so deep but that her horse maintained _his feet.

Soon a heavy splashing was heard, and the crimson fluid
that dyed the flowing tide showed that the bleeding soldiers —
had entered the waters; then followed another plunge, that
of the victors whose craving for blood was unsated. But the
creek was deep and threatening, and soon, from the middle
of the stream, where the flood was treacherous and the current
strong, cries were heard for help, and frantic men were seen
struggling for existence with only their hands thrust above
the waters. One moment of struggle, and then the heedless
stream, terrible in its power and calmness, bore down its
gasping victims unto death. Those who had passed the
center, awed by the fate of their companions, dared not to
return, and about thirty of, these victorious British yielded
themselves prisoners to the defeated Americans—casting one
gleam of satisfaction upon this calamitous day.

The rescued soldiers, now safe from molestation, proceeded
slowly toward the redoubt. Some hobbled on , Supported by
their muskets; some were aided by their comalies « some,
whose last effort had been to cross the water, were carried.
The more able were. assisting the disablea—a few only had
escaped unscathed.

Percy walked beside Stella. His admiration of her conduct
was boundless. She had faced the horrors of that day, appall-
ing even to man, with a courage that he could not have con-
ceived at the command of woman. Her object had been the
preservation of himself and the few. noble fellows who com-
bated with him. He saw the gr: . expressions of their
eyes as they toiled toward the redoubt, and he knew they
wished him to interpret this language to her ear. But he
never had fewer words at his disposal—never before had
found it so difficult to address Stella; he could only muse
and admire in silence:

“T fear, Stella, that: the terrors of to-day will long retain
their bitterness in your heart,’ he at length found words to
relieve the silence.

“They are, indeed, Percy,” said Stella, “deep in my heart
and thrilling to my soul; but it is my duty rather to accustom

_myself to distress than to avoid it, and TI will Ree the

effort. 2
   

ee
SS

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Never, I trust, to appear on such a field,’ remarked
Percy. “This is only an installment of the dread penalty
that we have to pay for liberty ; but let it be contributed by
man, and not by woman. We have resolved upon the pur-
chase, though not without a due estimate of the cost, and we
are not likely to recede from the responsibilities. But, may I
ask, Stella, by what species of magic you occupied the wood

from which you emerged so fearlessly ?”

“ By a most mysterious invitation,” replied Stella. “This
morning, at an early hour, a note was delivered to me, stating
that, if I desired to secure the saféty of you and my brother,
I must instantly prepare to follow you to the field; and that
a boat was then engaged to convey me, my horse, and my
servant, if I pleased, where I should be useful. I hesitated
long; but my fears for you and Rufus triumphed. Accom-
panied by Cesar, and mounted on Barb, I repaired to the
rendezyous. The boatman was there, though unlike a boat-
man in eyery thing but dress. He assisted us on board, and
immediat ushed off. As-the tide was running out of the
harbor, we passed easily along. On our passage, the man
explained that he thought both you and Rufus would be
opposed to Colonel Grant’s force, who would advance by the
river; that he should land me in his rear so that I could ride
through an adjoining wood, and, approaching your division
without danger, might warn you to retreat to Gowanus Bay,
as much larger forces would join Grant and overmatch you.
I landed—entered the wood—commenced my journey, and,
following a path, soon heard a heavy tramp and many voices.
T hoped it was you; but learned from their conversation they
were the troops marching to your destruction. With the
utmost speed I hastened toward you, and so great was my
anxiety that I was in the midst of the firing before I was
aware of the danger.”

As Percy listened to this singular, narrative, his thoughts

recurred to the specter of the preyious night. He felt that
there was association in the mystery, if not in the persons, of
the boatman and that fearful visitant. Further conversation
was, however, prevented by their arrival at the redoubt, where
they were received with enthusiasm. The combat had been
viewed from many points, and the desperate nature of the

 

 

 

 

 
ae

>

' AFTER THE BATTLE. 385

struggle was fully estimated; hence, the miraculous escape
of these patriots was welcomed by cheers and tears and silent
graspings of the hand.

The gallant Barb, too, received every species of caress. .-

Some fondly patted his sleek coat; some embraced him;
some examined his teeth to ascertain his age; some drew
memorial hairs from his flowing mane and tail. Some claimed.
him as a native of Connecticut; others knew him to belong
to Massachusetts, while those who lived beyond the boundaries
of Pennsylvania, maintained that he had all the fire and
rashness of the South.

Rufus, his arm suspended in a sling, and with evidences

‘of other repairs to his battered person, soon was by his sister’s

side. Both exhibited considerable emotion, for both had 3
passed through great perils.
“T will not—I can not—nay, I dare not blame you, ie

 

Stella,” exclaimed Rufus, “for the fearful part you have sus-
tained in this terrific drama. I should but me e hatred
of the camp, so popular are you with officers soldiers.

So Providential has been your guidance and protection that
I will not ey. the achievement with at reproach of
imprudence.”

Before Stella could reply, Perey wsdl grasped the hand of
her. brother. The pressure was returned by Rufus. “Their —
hearts were filled, and, though neither spoke, both looked
toward Stella, and they withdrew vith her to seek such
shelter as the frightened inhabitants might afford.

The battle was fought. It w: oically disputed; but
through strategy, the lamentable ill General Greene, and
the superior numbers of the foe, victory remained with the
invaders. It was apprehended that, in the madness of their
triumph, they would assault the sntretibhnieiits, A redoubt
had been thrown up inclosing the village.of Brooklyn, extend-
ing from the Wallabout to Gowanus Bay. This could not
now be efficiently defended. The chief force consisted of the
militia, and of men who had been, a few days earlier, marched
from the plow with no other weapons than the implements
of the husbandman rudely fashioned by the smith to some-
thing more martial. These men had never seen more than
a few days’ service. Without training, thus primitively armed,

. -

 
 

    

36 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

upon the redoubt until the following morning, that they might,
by refreshment and repose, be the better prepared for the
formidable resistance they expected to encounter,

©: HAs. PP Bea.
THE RETREAT.

Towarp evening, both Percy and Rufus rejoined Stella.
They communicated to her the intelligence. that Brooklyn
would be evacuated by the enemy that night—that every
boat was tobe pressed into the service—that the greatest
secrecy was imperative. “Both regretted that they could
not personally conduct Stella to the ferry; but the duties of
each were such that must be personally discharged to insure
security and success.

“You need fear nothing, Stella,” said Rufus ; “the whole
army is your guard. So deeply have you penetrated to the
heart of every soldier that he humbly casts his seryices at your
feet.” .

_ “You are facetious in your flattery, Rufus,” replied Stella.

“T have no apprehension at being thus abandoned by you and

Perey. The fame of your names will be to mea passport
- among the soldiery; at what hour does the embarkation
commence ?”

“ At nine,” said Perey—“ a secret known to but few.”

The visitors did not remain long with Stella. On leaving,
however, they advised her to be early at the ferry-boats,
although at any hour which might suit her pleasure, she
would receive every protection.

The house at which Stella had procured entertainment was
that-of a Mrs. Rapaelye, the descendant of an old family on
the island. This lady, although hospitable and kind, was
indignant at the conduct of the revolutionary party toward

they were not equal to meet such an army as now threatened
them. But the British had experienced the dauntless courage
of the Americans, and, fortunately, resolved to defer the attack

      
 

 
-

EVACUATION OF BROOKLYN. 387

her husband, whom they had banished to some distance for
suspected complicity with the English. She resolyed to
resent this punishment, and an opportunity now offered which
nearly satisfied her. malice. She had assigned to Stella an
apartment having all the appearance of privacy; but she
concealed herself in a closet whence she had the means of
hearing all that transpired. She thus arrived at the
knowledge of the intended secret. abandonment of Brooklyn
by the army.

This vengeful woman—thus armed with mischief—retired
to her room and revolved in her evil mind the most calami-

tous use to make of this intelligence. _ When her plans were

sufficiently matured, she hastened to her kitchen where sat
Jaco, her negro slave. To this poor fellow she revealed the

intention of the Americans, and her determination to com- .

municate this to the enemy. She prevailed upon the unwil-
ling Jaco to be the bearer, on the representation that he would
be Yewarded. Ee

At nine o’clock the embarkation of the troops commenced.
The boats were numerous; but the number to be conveyed
across the river in the few hours of darkness, amounted to'ten
thousand. Some of the boats were propelled by oars and
others by sail. During the early night the latter made slow
progress; but a breeze sprung up, which gave hope to the
failing hearts of the patriots, for it filled the white sails of the
larger craft, and the transport was conducted with rapidity.

At a late hour, Stella quitted the residence of her hostess,
who, with hurried words bade far | to her guest. Mounted
on Barb, she repaired to the boats; but there was so much
confusion, that she immediately retraced her steps to await a
later period, and not caring to disturb the quiet residence of
Mrs. Rapaelye, she rode, ssunibiih unconsciously, toward the
redoubts. ‘

In the mean time, the faithful agent of his owner’s treachery,
Jaco, had passed the redoubts, and, with the diligence insisted
on by his mistress, was proceeding toward the British camp,
when he was-hailed by the Hessian sentinel. Many questions

-and rejoinders ensued between the German and the slave ; but

they were mutually unintelligible, and Jaco was conducted to
the guatd-house, where the officer’of the watch, no better

a

 
 

  

=o THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

versed in the English tongue then his follower, especially as
spoken by the unlettered Jaco, committed the delinquent to
confinement, where, with that great secret locked within his
breast, pined the unhappy negro until brought before the
English in the morning.

_No sooner had Stella quitted the residence of Mrs. Rapaelye,
than she put on her bonnet, left the house, and walked to the
place of debarkation. She had heard the truth—the Americans
were retreating. Impatient for vengeance, as she saw the
opportunity receding, she directed her steps toward the
yedoubts, to welcome the invited enemy. Reaching the earth-
works, all was found in repose. Jiven the jealous sentinels
had abandoned the lonely spot. The stronghold—so cun-
ningly, contrived—was unwatched and undefended. It was
just midnight. So solemn was the hour and the place that
she was almost awed at her own treason. But the demon of
revenge g¢ a ed her on. She mounted the redoubt, looked
upon the intrenchment—still, all was in silence. She hitd
confidence in the integrity of Jaco—nor could she doubt the
willingness of the foe to slay his enemy. Then why this
maddening calm? Vengeance should be achieved! the injuries
should be avenged in blood that night ! She would summon

the foe. She would cross the works and enter the enemy’s
camp and arouse the slumbering lion to the combat.

Stella, also, was astonished to find the fortifications totally
abandoned at an hour so early as midnight, and the whole
line of works open to the enemy, had he been sufficiently vigilant
to avail himself of the error. She was about to withdraw:
from this forsaken spot en she perceived a figure on the
edge of the redoubt. It was that of a female, standing near

a gun, and was, apparently, about to descend upon the enemy’ 8
side, when a tall, ghastly figure arose from beneath the carriage.
Applying a match, the. gun exploded with a terrible report,
repeated many times as its dying echoes reverberated
from the distant hills. A fearful shriek followed the report.
The female figure fell—then rose again—then, gathering all her
strength, she rushed down the redoubts. When the affrighted

_ woman passed Stella, she recognized the terrified features of
her hostess.

‘These succeeding visions shook the nerves of Stella, which

  
 

 

@

‘

 

 
a

THE THREE RUFFIANS. 39
had been severely disciplined in the course of the day, and
her astonishment was especially excited as to the shadowy
figure that fired the gun, for she saw not whence it came nor
whither it vanished. It seemed to expire with the explosion.

As soon, however, as she recovered her firmness, she
resolyed at once to return to the water’s edge, and to apply
to be passed over the river to New York. But, the terrors
of the night had not closed, for, as she slowly rode along the
solitary path, greatly abstracted by the circumstances of the
day, three fellows advanced, two seized her horse, and the
third demanded what valuables she had. Unprepared for
such ruffianism in a camp of patriots, an involuntary sone
escaped her, and she exclaimed :

“Tam the sister of a soldier in this day’s battle. Is fe thus
you reward the blood that he has shed ?”

“Come, come, ung missus,” said the ruffian, “no preachen.
Them as like sogering can bleed; but our method of bleeden
ain’t half so bloody ;” and the fellow seemed to chuckle at his
conceit.

“YT have no money nor valuables with ing ” said Stella,
greatly alarmed, “but the simple rings upon my fingers.”

“ Off wid ’em,” said one of the other ruffians, in a brutal
voice.

And Stella was about to obey this frightful order, when a
deep, sepulchral voice exclaimed :

“Scoundrels, have you the temerity to rob within pistol
shot of two armies ?”

@ The voice seemed to proceed from beneath the earth, and
was so hollow, that even the hardy thieves who threatened
Stella, were half inclined to relinquish so poor a victim ; but,
while they paused, the same voice cried:

“Leave that lady untouched, unharmed! Away with you,
dogs ! villains !” ;

The men still retained their places—two at the horse’s
head and one beside Stella, who had not remoyed her rigs.
A moment passed, then a rushing, apparently of the air, and
one of the villains fell. Stella, for an instant, closed her eyes,
and when she reopened them the robbers were gone. The one
who had been felled was still upon the earth; but the others
could neither be seen in retreat nor in the road. Stella

 
 

 

 

40 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

looked around. All was silent as the tomb. No soldier was
seen—no other words were uttered—she seemed to owe her
safety to that awful rushing in the air. She quitted the spot

more terrified than she had been during the day, for nothing -

had been so indefinable.

Stella was recalled from her painful revery by the heavy
tramp of men. Unminéful of whether it was the advance of
friend or foe, she sought human association, and dashed

, toward it. It was Mifflin’s corps returning to the redoubts,
which it had improperly quitted before the hour assigned.
At her request a party of these soldiers sought the dead man ;
but there was no body to be found nor any appearance of
violence. This increased the agitation of Stella, who, depressed
and sorrowful, reached the ferry and was conveyed to New
Yorkies.

When Jaco, the slave, was, carly next morning, transferred
from German to English custody, his errand was understood,
and a few of the English approached the trenches, entered
them, and found them untenanted. A detachment hastened to
the water’s edge in the hope that they might intercept some
of these runaways; but the retreat—a victory in itself—had
been accomplished, and over nine thousand men, with all
their munitions of war, had been conveyed across the river in
one night by such boats as could be picked up at three or
four hours’ notice. When the British reached the shore, there
was only one boat within musket-shot. It was ordered back,
and was found to contain the three ruffians who had insulted
Stella, and who had remained behind for plunder. They fell
a sacrifice to their own cupidity.

The midnight gun was heard by both armies. The report
occasioned alarm and confusion among the Americans, who
were apprehensive that their redoubts were attacked ata
moment when there was not a man to defend them, and not
half the troops had passed the river. The British, too, aroused
to suspicion at this fiery signal, became more vigilant, Goub‘ed
their sentinels, and prepared for some hostile movement of
their enemy; but, as nothing further ensued, it was ascribed
by them to accident, though to the Americans the explosion
was ever a subject of fearful reference.

Stella, repaired directly toher home. The watchful Chloe

sd

  

  
   

 

Ae 7
*

CHLOE’S QUESTION. 41
rushed to the door. Tears of joy were in the poor slave’s
eyes; she could not speak for sobbing. Cesar, little less
affected, danced grotesquely round the head and heels of
Barb, and when Stella descended, he clasped his arms rounde
the animal’s neck. The horse seemed not less delighted than
the negro, and together they proceeded to the stable.

“Oh, Miss Stel,” exclaimed Chloe, as they entered the
house, “ what am dis lib’ty dat kill de white man, make him
wife widow, and his poor childer mad wid grief? Why
white man fight white man for lib’ty, ha, Miss Stel?
Do Britishers want sell white "Merica man as dey” do
nigger ?”

“No,” said Stella, smiling, despite her fatigue and agony,
at the unique idea of Chloe. “The British are not quite so
unjust as that; but, it is political and not personal liberty
for ae America i is ad contending, and which eae people
deny us.”

“P' litical lib’ty,” repeated Chloe, “what's dat, i aa v2
but, perceiving the distress of her dear mistress, curiosity
yielded to anxiety, and she hastened away to prepare those
creature comforts which she saw were needed.

Alone, secure, and at home, Stella cast herself into a chair.
Enfeebled from the exertions of the twenty-four hours passed,
she lightened the sorrow and agitation of her heart by a copi-
ous flow of tears. So great was her prostration that she soon
sunk into repose. : S

CHAPTER VII.
THE VICTORS OF THE PLAIN DEFEATED IN THE PARLOR. ©

THE completeness of this retreat was regarded by the
British as an instance of great military vigor and resource in

_ emergency. They could scarcely credit thag such an army -

had been transported across the river in the limit of’one short
night. The treason of Jaco had yielded them but three pris-
oners, and these were thieves whose necks deserved the hal-
ter. The retirement was so masterly, orderly, and judicious—

   

  
   

  

42 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

the day had been so well contested, that the British Generals
had a clear perception of the strength of their foe and of the
Jemarkable genius of their commander:

The English were now masters of Long Island. The
Americans held Manhattan Island. As the morning dawned,
the belligerents gazed upon each other in grim defiance pen
ghe opposite shores.

New York was alive with lamentation, with military ardor
and with social fright. "Women bewailed husbands who had
fallen, children their lost fathers. Others, apprehending dan-
ger, implored to beeassigned some place of protection. Amid
all, encouraging, commanding, sympathizing, moved the calm
Washington, equal to all the circumstances of the eventful
hour,

None knew how soon the city might be attacked, nor
where. The enemy with his vessels swept the sea; the East
River and the Hudson were open to his ships; and either side
of the island might be assaulted. Redoubts were thrown up
along the coast; batteries were erected; the streets were de-
fended by barricades; and every av ailable house was occu-
pied by soldiers to guard all avenues of approach.

Stella was not idle amid the clash of arms. She con-
* doled with the afilicted widow and or phan; expostulated
- with the frenzied wives and daughters who rushed from street
to street, teaching them that there was neither safety in flight
nor danger in remaining. She pointed to the hospitals,
whither she entreated them to repair, and lend their minis-
trations to soothe the sufferings of the wounded soldiers. By
these efforts she recalled toreason and usefulness hundreds of
those who were distracting the troubled city.

. A council of Generals was now held. It was declared
that the city could not be defended from the army and navy
of the foe. It was therefore suggested by some of the de-
termined spirits that it should be abandoned and destroyed by
fire, by this sacrifice depriving the British of such goodly
quarters for the winter. But this was forbidden by Congress.
In view, however, of the imminence of the danger, the head-
quarters of the army were removed to Westchester, beyond
the island, by way of King’s Bridge, and General Putnam
was left in command of the city, with his brigade.

 
WASHINGTON’S WRATH. 43

By this arrangement both Percy and Rufus were removed
to a greater distance from Stella, although their military
duties.since the retreat had become so severe that she had
seen but little of them; but she rode daily to their quarters,
which contributed to her health, and afforded her occupation.
She each day returned with reassurances of the safety of those
she loved, and of the inaction of the British.

On one of these visits she perceived an unusual commo-
tion. There was, at a distance, and on the margin of the
river, an agitation she had never. before observed. One or
two English vessels were in the East River; but they
had reposed tliere several days, and had sought the shelter of —
the interposing islands on being cannonaded from the oo
They still were unmoved.

Galloping to an eminence, she saw the threatened? i idasion
had commenced. The boats of the English were upon the
waters and landing soldiers; but, what caused her a yet greater
pang, was that the American force stationed to guard this
point was flying in cowardice. There was-no report of fire-
arms, no resistance—none of the heroic emulation which had
been displayed so terribly on the former field. An indignant
blush added to the loveliness of her face. She felt that were
she near enough she would raise her hand to chastise those
vagrant soldiers, At that moment she perceived a horseman
approaching in headlong haste to the place of debarkation.
He was followed by others at some little distance, the fore-
most of whom her quick eye distinguished to be Percy. The
leading officer, however, was General Washington. He con-
fronted the retreating men, reproached them with cowardice,
rallied them, and led them toward the enemy, who was weak
and cautious, and suspicious of an ambush. But the poor
fellows, unused to war, and. terrified at the ferocious appear-
ance of the Germans, were uninspired ‘by the example of the
noble leader who encouraged them, and again turned their
backs upon the foe without an effort at attack.

General Washington, rarely ruffled, now lost the command
of his temper at such worthless conduct. Drawing a pistol
from his holster, he attempted to relieve the army of the das-
tards, but thrice it missed fire at such unworthy game, and
the runaways escaped. The General, his vengeance unap-

a

 
   

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

peased, tore his hat from his head, and cast it on the ground
exclaiming :

“ Are these the men with whom I am to defend America ?”

This occurred but twenty yards from the foe, and the Gen-
eral seemed inclined to spur forward and attack him single-
handed; but Percy came up, seized the rein of his charger,
checked his purpose, and led him from the field. America
might never have been free but for that act.

_ “ Ride to New York,” exclaimed General Washington as he
recovered his self-possession, “and direct General Putnam to
evacuate the city in all haste. Tell him the British are already
landed, and nothing will save him but a miracle.”

Stella observed Percy quit the General’s side, and ride furi-
ously in the direction in which she was. She descended, the
hill to intercept him.

“Perey, good Percy,” exclaimed Stella, “one-word. Is
all hope fled 2”

“You here, dearest Stella?” exclaimed Percy in surprise,
without lessening his speed. “Place Barb beside my horse;
we must converse as we fly, for life is in my pace, and I dare
not pause.”

“Whither go you, Percy ?” inquired Stella.

“To order Putnam to abandon the city,” replied Percy.

“Are the British landed in sufficient force to endanger
him ?” asked Stella.

“The river is covered with their boats,” replied Percy.

“T will remain here,” said Stella, “and watch their evolu-
tions. I may possibly be useful.”

“Tet me implore you, Stella,” said Percy, “not again to
defy those British muskets, nor to encounter the ribald sol-
diery who bear them. There will be no fighting. They are
now too strong to be resisted.”

“{ place your words upon my heart, dear Percy,” said
Stella, with a smile that enchanted him; “and they will

shield me in prudence. Farewell !”

“Farewell, farewell!” and he kissed his adieus, as with
the speed of lightning he pursued his course.

Stella returned to the eminence from which she had beheld
the discomrfiture of the General. She saw the increasing col-
umns of the British rise above the hills which screened the

    

=
7.

>"

OUTWITTING THE FOE. , 45

margin of the waters. Turtle and Kipp’s bays were gay with
the scarlet uniforms of the soldiers, while their polished arms
and bright equipments reflected a dazzling luster, which the
eye could scarcely look upon. The day was overwhelmingly
hot, and Stella found herself compelled to withdraw from.
the elevation; but not until she observed, with no inconsid-
erable alarm, that the enemy were advancing directly in a
line calculated to intercept the retreat of the Americans, She
therefore hastened to the residence of a friend—a Mrs. Murray,
whose home was situate on the Bloomingdale road—informed
her of the approach of the British forces, and these two ladies
resolved if possible to detain them.

The hostile force marched directly toward the house, and
precisely in a direction to intercept the retreat of General
Putnam. The officers preceded the imposing cavalcade. As
they approached, Mrs. Murray advanced to the gate of her
residence, and they raised their plumed hats in deference.

“ Gentlemen,” said the lady, “the day is sultry, and you
seem to suffer from it. May I offer you the hogs: of
my poor roof?”

The officers conferred for a moment, then Sentoounls ac-
cepted the invitation, and entered the house. There they not
only saw a cheerful repast, but were. welcomed by the lovely
Stella. It was evident that she attracted the marked ad-
miration of the visitors, not only by her beauty, but by her
manners and conversation.

“ This is the first mark of hospitality,” said General Howe,
“that we have received gince our arrival in this country. I
trust that it is not designed thus to disarm us, as was the
generous liberality extended to. illustrious Romans by the
Egyptian Cleopatra.

The humorous remark of the gallant soldier was so coinci-
dent with the intentions of the fair conspirators, that Stella
could not repress a blush of guiltiness.

“T will guarantee,” said Sir Henry Clinton, “that there is
no treason in this rosy wine, visible or invisible.”

“Nothing,” said Lord Cornwallis, “is so apt to beguile Sir
Henry Clinton from the path of duty as the juice of a favor-
ite vintage.”

“Were it not for discourtesy to these ladies,” replied Sir

>

 
 

46 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

Henry Clinton, “I would rise and challenge you to the
march at once.”

“You will scarcely allow me to believe,” said Mrs. Mur-
ray, fearful that this badinage might result in sudden depart-
ure, “thdt my wines and confections are palatable, unless you
confer upon them more attention.” :

“We must not permit’ you, madam,” said General Howe,
“in your hospitality, to doubt the“quality of our gratitude ;”
and he refilled his glass. ;

Then Lord Cornwallis, addressing his conversation to
Stella, remarked, playfully :

“T rejoice that our invasion of this morning has occasioned
you no discomposure; though it was the cause of great terror
to those who were appointed to receive us with military
honors.” .

“Does your lordship complain of the neglect ?” said Stella,
with a smile. '

“Tt was not precisely soldierly,” replied Cornwallis, gayly,
“nor was their rustic dress, nor their ungainly arms; indeed,
they seemed better prepared for tillage than for war, and have
probably fled to their native fields for occupation, for they
moved off with great rapidity.”

“Your lordship must not judge our forces by their uni-
forms,” said Stella, “for you will find as doughty men in
homespun as ever faced cannon in the royal scarlet.”

“T fear I have touchéd a chord of nationality,” continued
Cornwallis, “and have provoked a foe where I am anxious to
conciliate a friend.”

“But, as that foe is unarmed,” said Stella, “she is as harm-
less as those poor recruits whom you so merrily deride.”

“Ah, fair lady,” exclaimed Cornwallis, placing his hand
upon his heart, “it is not the missiles of war that wound the
soldier most deeply. There are shafts which enter the heart,
and which defy all the skill of pharmacy.”

“But, the polished, graceful, and warlike Generals of his
Britannic Majesty’s forces, who believe themselves impervious
to the sons of the colony, are no doubt clad in an armor
impenetrable to the attacks of its daughters.”

“Tf the resistance of its sons,” replied Cornwallis, bowing
lowly to Stella, “be as formidable as what I perceive of the

ze 4
~~

PUTNAM’S ESCAPE. 47

beauty of its daughters, we shall be a defeated army, and our
monarch will yet lament having exposed his devoted soldiers
in a cause so hopeless.”

“Its sons are inflexible,” said Stella, solemnly, and wholly
disregarding the compliment to herself; “they will live in
freedom or die in blood!” The hot blood mounted to her
face, and her heart beat with her rising patriotism.

Cornwallis was struck with the extreme loveliness of the
young woman, as she pronounced these words. ‘They ema-
nated from her heart and went keenly to his; and in after
days, when the brilliancy of his exploits were darkened by the
shadows cast upon them by the genius of the enduring Wash-

ington and the faith and bravery of his suffering followers, —

the thoughts of Cornwallis recurred to the prophetic words
uttered while he was being decoyed from his vigilance on his
progress from Turtle Bay. A pause in the conversation now
ensued, which was occasioned by the seeming meditation of
Cornwallis, but it did not continue long. His lordship returned
to the encounter.

“T feel that. I am speaking to a belligerent,” he said, “ int
may I ask if the city be | completely evacuated by the
Americans ?”

“T think General Putnam quitted it this morning,” replied
Stella. 4

“Indeed !” said Cornwallis; “ would not even that singular
and chivalric old commander remain to welcome us with
his guns?” _

“Had you been earlier or more diligent,” said Stella, a
think he would have afforded you that honor; but he, no
doubt, was desirous to avoid a toilsome march ‘beneath the
midday’s sun. He will be glad, sir, to welcome you at
another time, in the Westchester hills.”

“Had we been earlier, as you remark,” said Cornwallis,
“we might have encountered his scampering battalions, and
haye released him of their command ; but, had we intercepted
him I should have been deprived the privilege and happiness
I now enjoy. I do confess that even if that veritable old
Israet Putnam were to escape with his whole herd of defend-

ers, with all his armaments, including those grotesque scythes _

and pitchforks, while I hold this colloquy with you, I shall
consider the delight right cheaply purchased.”

4

 
 
  

48 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Your gallantry, I perceive, never fails you; nor your
courage, in the presence of ladies |”

“Wa! ha! ha!’ chimed in Sir Henry Clinton. “ Fairly hit!
If the Yankee balls are as true as the tongues of the Yankee
women, he plainly perceive we shall suffer somewhat in our
service.”

“You will find Yankee hearts and Yankee hands as true as
steel to their cause; if any Tories give you welcome, they
will be found to be Englishmen who love oppression better

than Mberty,” said Stella, with great deliberation.

- “No more, my dear. lady,” said Lord Howe; “you will
vanquish us before we can meet your brave men on their
ground.” ~

With conversation like this, sometimes personal, sometimes
general, but always courteous and agreeable, did these rather
vainglorious leaders of a powerful host enliven the halls of
Murray Hill, sip their cool wines, and enjoy the refreshing
shade—little suspecting that they were prisoners as well as
guests, because the fetters by which they were bound were
hidden’ from their eyes—while General Putnam, assisted by
the agile Percy, their horses white with foam, hastened the
march of the troops toward the main army, only a wood
screening the retreating columns from the loitering foe.

At length the English army resumed its triumphal progress,
headed by its gay and witty chieftains, who, with rubicund
cheeks and merry hearts rallied Cornwallis upon the neces-
sity, as a faithful soldier of the crown, of eschewing the soci-
ety of the beautiful and accomplished daughter of the rebels.
‘Soon they discovered, to their chagrin, that they had been
outwitted by their fair enemy. Putnam’s division lad es-
caped, and its immunity had been purchased upon those very
terms which Lord Cornwallis, in his adulation, had assured
Stella would be so acceptable! He was taken at his word,
and could not, in honor, resent it.

 

   
THE BRITISH IN NEW YORK, 49

CHAPTER VIIL
AN INAUSPICIOUS FRIEND.

ConTRARY to expectation, the British had posted sentinels
across the island, forming a cordon from, the East River to the
Hudson, at a point which embraced Murray Hill, so that Stella
found herself within the enemy’s pickets, and forbidden any
communication with her brother or Percy. New York was
now in possession of the British, and although they had
silenced all alarm of the inhabitants by assurances of protec-
tion provided they behaved as good and loyal subjects, she
knew with what jealousy and suspicion even a lady would be ~
regarded whose brother and other friends were in the rebel.
army. She, too, had been rendered conspicuous by recent events,
and because of these, might be thought capable of conduct
disdainful to her feelings. There was no alternative, however,
but to return to New York, where possibly, she thought, Rufus —
might contrive to correspond with her, and advise her what
next todo. She therefore bade adieu to Mrs. Murray, mounted
her little Barb, and entered the captured city. Its streets
were filled with soldiers, and the air with the martial uproar
of fifes and drums. Few civilians were to be seen, and those
passed the conquerors with a timidity which betokened a tacit
acknowledgment of their conquered state. The military gazed

rudely upon her, and the streets were so filled with idle
‘loungers, that she was compelled to advance very slowly, and

listen to the oaths and ribald language uttered by these brag-
garts. Although her heart beat rapidly, and she was
apprehensive of personal violence, the fellows did not venture
so far, and she reached her residence in safety. The frightened
Chloe, and scarcely more valorous Cesar, received her with a
peal of ejaculations expressive of their deep and inconsolable
grief, which the presence of Stella by no means contributed
to allay. Tears descended copiously from their eyes, as they
wrung their hands and moved about in agony. Stella was
not unused to their noisy sorrow ; but, as it generally subsided
on the appearance of herself or Rufus, she was the more

 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
 
 
 
    

,

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

astounded that it should continue. It now seemed to act
inversely—to open fresh fountains in their eyes, increase their
clamor, and impart new vigor to the distortion of their limbs.
The truth was that this untutored couple, driven almost to
distraction by the rapid departure of the American troops and
the entrance of the English, had allowed themselves to be —
persuaded that the refractory whites were now British slaves,
and that Stella was reduced to servitude, and, consequently,

was their equal in every thing but color!

“ On’y tink, Miss Stel—for Pll alus call ye so—on’y tink 0
dat clamity.”

“What can have occurred to excite all this lamentation,”
said Stella; “pray be more explicit and relieve my alarm ?”

“Oh, Miss,” said the sobbing Chloe, “dem great people
come—dem ter’ble fighters—dem grand nation King Georges.”

““The. English, Chloe, you mean,” said Stella.  “ They are
not all kings that wear scarlet coats. But what have they
done to produce all this terror?” s

“Don’t you know, Miss Stel,” ipcdeded Chloe, with
redoubled howling, so that Stella could with difficulty com-
prehend her. ‘Oh, oh, oh, you slaye now—you nigger now
widout de black.”

“Pray, Chloe, be less noisy,” said Stella, almost in anger.
“ What absurdity has crept into your foolish heads ?”

“Dem ter’ble men make all slaves now,” said Chloe.

““Who told you such folly ?” asked Stella,

“Nigger gal next door,” replied Chloe. “Her missus no
slavye—her missus Zory. Why not Miss Stel and Massa Ruf
Tory? Den dey no slave!”

Stella perceived the danger of permitting conversation
between such inveterate gossips, the chief subject of which
was what transpired in the household:; but highly colored, to
suit their exaggerated ideas of grandeur or depression. She
therefore cautioned both Chloe and Cesar from maintaining
intimacy with any one, as their communications might prove
detrimental both to herself and Rufus; for, as the English
were supreme in the city, the slightest evidence would be
very nicely weighed against those whom it affected.

“ Ain’t you slave, Miss Stel?” asked the still incredulous
Chloe.
A VISITOR. * 1

“Certainly not,” replied Stella. “It is not the object of
the English to establish that description of reenee among
Americans.”

“Oh, I very ited Miss Stel,” said the rejoicing Chloe. “T
nebber talk wid dat gal Sal agin—nedder /”

A few days passed. The ‘anxiety of Stella in reference to
her brother and Percy increased. She had hoped they would
have devised some means of sending to her, though she had lite
tle doubt the difficulties of communication were as insurmount- _
able with them as with herself. She had not ventured to quit ~
the house since the day of her arrival—the menacing imper-—
tinence of the soldiery had so alarmed her—ulthough, so far
as she could discover, there was more propriety of conduct
practiced toward the civilians, than on the proud day of their
occupation.

Stella was sitting one evening alone, revolving in her iiiina
how it might be possible to intimate to Rufus her desire to
quit New. York, now rendered so unpleasant, when Chloe
entered the room in a state of considerable excitement, to
announce that a gentleman wished to speak with her.

“Who is it, Chloe?” asked Stella, observing her. agitation.

“One dem great lord soldiers,” replied Chloe, advancing
toward her mistress, and delivering her reply in a whisper.

“An Englishman, and one of the military? Impossible,”
observed Stella. Her fears made her apprehend some evil at
this call, but she was determined not to betray any feeling of ©
alarm in the presence of her terrified slave. With faltering
step, but assumed composure of countenance, she entered the
reception-room. ‘The shadows of evening had just begun to
produce a slight obscurity in the apartment. Upon her
entrance, a tall military man rose from a chair on which he
was seated. He wore a sword by his side, but the indistinct-
ness of the light concealed the lineaments of his face, which
were also shaded by a liberal moustache and somewhat bushy
whiskers. He advanced toward Stella, bowed with studied
politeness, and then said:

“T fear, Miss Westville, that I am forgotten, although I
hope to be permitted to renew an acquaintance which was
formed in another country.”

Stella was astonished to be thus addressed. Surveying the
visitor more closely, she replied : :

 
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
   

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

- “Ts it not Captain Malman ?” *

“The Captain of other days, Miss Westville,” said the stran-
ger; “but Major Malman now.”

Stella bowed to signify that she stood corrected, and then
asked :

“Are you still attached to the British army, Major Mal-
man?”

“Tam,” he replied, “and form one of the present expedition.

Tam rejoiced to find you an inhabitant of New York. Is your
brother also here ?” ;
_ “ He‘is with the army,” said Stella.

“J regret to hear your confirmation of that report,” said
the Major, with the indifference of contempt, as Stella denom-
inated the forces of General Washington an army.

- “To me it is a solace to all my griefs,” said Stella.

“That your brother is in rebellion ?” exclaimed the Major.

“That he maintains the heritage to which he is born,”
rejoined Stella. ‘“ Even I, a woman, feel the sacred fire which
warms man’s heart to liberty, and arms him against oppres-

- sion.” .
“T regret that you have been taught to garnish insurrection-
ary deeds with this vividness,” said the Major, “for it is such
_ besotted conduct that has constrained his Majesty to employ
his armies to restore the allegiance of his subjects.”
“You have advanced in power and strength, and are, for
a moment, triumphgnt; but you may soon be reduced to fee-
bleness,” said Stella, seriously. “I know the indomitable
nature of the sons of this soil. You can not conquer them.
They are resolved on liberty, and they never will sheathe the
sword which they have drawn until they have crowned it
with victory.”
The Major listened with evident impatience and disdain.
As the evening was darkening, Stella summoned Chloe to
bring candles, which she thought would afford an opportunity
to terminate a discussion that was neither agreeable nor de-
sirable. When Chloe had retired, however, the Major said :
“T will not renew the anhiert af onr conversation althonch
THE MAJOR PROPOSES. 53

duty. On taking possession of the city, a number of worthy
citizens, whose loyalty does them honor, and who are
enthusiastic in our cause, were kind enough to afford us
considerable information, by witioh it seems that you are not
exempt from their suspicions.”

“Of what am I reported to be guilty ?” demanded Stella,
indignant both at the charge and at the manner in which it
had been withheld by the Major.

“ Of correspondence with the rebels,” replied the Major.

“The accusation is false,” replied Stella, the color on her

. cheek heightened by the conviction of innocence. “I haye —

not seen nor heard from my brother, nor any other of that —
patriot band, since the day of your entry here. Indeed, I
have not quitted my home, for the insolence of your soldiery
when I was last abroad, has since confined me closely to my
residence.”

“With me, Miss Westville, your denial has the force of
truth,” said the Major; “but there are those whose doubts it
is almost impossible to quench, and they place you in
rather a hazardous position in an enemy’s camp. ‘You need
protection. There was a time,’ continued the insidious
Major, “ when happiness and security surrounded you—when
I, unable to resist your beauty and your attractions, asked to
share in the sweet sympathy of your heart. The privilege
was denied me. I retired forlorn and wretched; but neither
timé, my active life, nor the excitement of the’ battle-field —
could drive from my memory that one cherished hope, or
from my heart that deep affection. To-day I meet you in
another land—the soil of your birth—among a people whose
defection from a powerful country is about to be punished in
blood. Abandoned to the evils of war, in the camp of the
avenger, and exposed to imminent peril, I. now find you.
Miss Westville—Stella—still empress of my heart, grant me
the love that I so long since implored, that I may have the”
right and privilege to defend you against the world.”

The amazement of Stella at this renewal of a former suit
was so great that she could only gaze in silence upon the
floor. Her heart was swollen with indignation. She thought
the British Major frantic—mad—or he would not have made
these rude attempts upon her heart in the moment of her

———

 
  

54 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

isolation. She made an effort, however, to reply. She wished
not to be thought in hesitation or doubt.

“Major Malman,” said Stella, with a severity of look that
was by no means flattering to the hopes of the officer, “had
my heart inclined toward you, had I loved you to devotion,
the worthless and humiliating character of your intended
honor would only have excited my contempt. But it is not
so; you are by no means acceptable to me; and I, a disaffected

- colonist, a lover of my country and those who defend the

liberties of her soil, will rather depend on my own innocence
for protection than upon the hand of a British officer.”

The eyes of the Major flashed fearfully. Every feature
expressed ferocity. His brows were dark and knitted; his
hands were tightly doubled into fists; his feet were rigidly
drawn up, and placed firmly on the floor, and he seemed fully
prepared for some effort more hostile than could be pursued
toward a lady. At length his stern mouth relaxed:

“Stella,” he exclaimed, in a tone of voice more suited to
his regiment, “I am your friend: I came not to insult, but

_ to-warn you of the breakers by which you are surrounded—to

offer services that» no other, perhaps, would render; and I
sought to qualify those services in a manner that none would

doubt my right to offer them. It is not in the nature of a

military officer to be rash? I repeat, will you accept my
assistance and my hand? I proffer them in conjunction.”
“Never!” exclaimed Stella.
“ Adieu, fastidious fair one,” said the Major, rising excitedly
from his chair. Enveloping himself in an immense horse-
cloak, he repeated: “ Farewell!” and, as he quitted the room,

_ there was a savage language in his eye that did not escape the

observation of the shuddering woman.

Lennox Malman was the son of a gentleman of good
property in England, had been educated for the army, and,
when Stella first met him, had attained the rank of Captain.
They had repeated opportunities of seeing each other, and
Malman became deeply enamored with her. With the
consent of his father he proposed for her; the honor was
declined ; but so sincere was the devotion of the unsuccessful
suitor, that he applied to Rufus to intercede in his behalf.
‘The brother, however, refused to do so, He had seen

   
       
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
      

>
THE HONOR DECLINED. 55

sufficient of Malman to apprehend that the happiness of his
sister would not be promoted by such a union.  Repulsed, :
but still unwilling to acknowledge a defeat, the pertinacious
son of Mars prevailed upon the lady with whom Stella was
then visiting to sue for a revision of the sentence; but there
was no mitigation—the heart of the charmer was remorseless.
The disconsolate lover had to rejoin his regiment, and to seek
victory in the field. Nearly two years had transpired siace ©
this event, but he never forgot or forgave the rejection, and —
his present love was not unmixed with a malignity that
hungered for revenge. Now that he had a second time
committed himself toa power he could not resist, with no-
better fortune, he firmly resolved upon vengeance. Never was .
a villain in more favorable position to glut his appetite.

No sooner had Major Malman quitted the apartment than
Stella threw herself. upon the couch in despondency. There
was a haughtiness in the manner and language of the man
that cast into shadow all his affected love. This she had
perceived when he had first cast himself at her feet. She
always thought there was something threatening even in his
love; and how much more cause had she to dread the
vengeance of his anger. She saw thé menace in his dark
frowns as he quitted the house, and heard the irony of his
words, and felt that nothing could humble their arrogance
but the bravery of her brother or the impetuous wrath of the
gallant Percy. 3

Stella now summoned to the room Cesar and Chloe,
related to them frankly the charge of suspicion made by the
visitor who had just left, and again implored them, as they
valued her safety, to hold no communication with the slaves
of their neighbors, nor to exchange a word with the idle
and inquisitive soldiery or their officers. The poor slaves,
trembling with apprehension, promised faithful obedience to
her directions:

Again Stella was alone in her wretchedn@s. After

-profound meditation she resolved to await the arrival_of

events with as much fortitude as she could command. Rufus
and Perey were distant though so near. A few miles
separated them, but the interval was guarded both by
sentinels and the terrible penalty of death. _To communicate

 
   
  
     
 
 
 
   
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
   
  
   

—?

 

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

with them was utterly impossible. She could only use every
precaution for her safety, and abide events. She rose from
her seat, and was about to extinguish the lights, which were
burning dimly, when the door opened slowly, the head of a
muffled figure was introduced, and, while Stella repressed her
breath at this second nocturnal visit, the figure entered,
closed the door, and advanced toward her.

CAT APE. ie Ok.
THE BAFFLED WARRIOR.

Masor Maman retired from the house of Stella in a most
ungovernable rage. Rejected as a lover, disdained as a man,
despised as an officer of his Britannic Majesty, nothing could
soothe his wounded pride, For a time he threaded the dark
streets, fomenting the anger which he was hoping to appease.
Fatigued at this perambulation, he repaired to his quarters,
entered his room, threw himself into a chair, and ae his
ire with oaths, threats, and denunciations.

When Major Malman had honored Stella with an evening
call he knew something more of her position than he stated.

‘There were plenty of Tories who, smarting beneath the

persecutions of the friends of independence, now attempted tc
hurl upon them indiscriminate vengeance. The Major was
soon informed that Rufus was a Captain in the patriot army,
and that Percy Archer, who was his devoted friend, was also
supposed not to be indifferent to the sister. He therefore
determined to visit Stella, to represent to her the desperate
struggle in which her brother had embarked, the hopelessness
of the cause for which he fought, her own forlorn, unprotected,
and even abandoned situation, and then to offer her his hand.
He thought such magnanimity must be esteemed—such
generosity could not be refused, and he paused to consider
well whether he should in any way modify the terms, as if
with the fair sweet girl he was about to address it was a
matter of capitulation. He was amazed and maddened when

-

  
SERGEANT SCROGGINS SUMMONED. 57

he heard his offer rejected by Stella with tnconcealed scorn.
He could scarcely repress the language that usually accom-
panied his anger, and when he withdrew from her presence
he yowed to be revenged. Disguising the malice that imbit-
tered his feelings, he desired a servant to summon the Ser-
geant. It was not long before he was Pa
Scroggins entered. %

“ Scroggins,” said the Major, “I trust your vigilance is note
relaxed. You have reported little for the last day or two.”

“‘T endeavor to do my duty, Major,” replied the Sergeant,
bowing; ““my men see every thing that passes ; but the
people of the town are well inclined.”

“ Be not too confident,” said the Major. “I have names
that are regarded with suspicion.”

“ They shall be watched, Major,” said. the Sergeant, “ if
you name them.”

“Persons whose nearest relatives are in arms,” continued
the Major.

“ There are several families of that class, Major,” remarked
the Sergeant,

“Who are in correspondence with the rebels,” said the
Major.

“T ask their names, Major,” said the Sergeant.

“There is much mischief plotting in the city,” perseyered —

the Major, regardless of the remarks of the Sergeant, “ which
you ought to penetrate. If we can not apprehend the guilty,
we must seize upon those next in rank—the suspected. We
are among a rebellious foe—in a city of enemies—and we
must exert our power to strike terror into their hearts, or we
may be ruined by their machinations. You must refer to our
position, Scroggins, and silence your scruples.”

“My men are watchful day and night, Major,” observed
the Sergeant—“ little escapes them.”

“ And on that little which you and your fellows disregard —

may be suspended our destruction,” said the Major, in a pas-
sionate voice. ‘The advice I have received ought to have
proceeded from you instead of the faithful royalists. Have
you watched closely a house in Pearl street ?” f
“ Several, Major,” replied the confident Sergeant.
“Occupied by a young lady?” continued the Major.

 
   

 

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“ And her two slaves,” added the Sergeant.

“The same,” said the Major. “Is there not treason
there?” :

“T have invested that house as closely as a fortress, Major,”
replied the Sergeant, “from the moment the lady entered the
city. She is a dangerous enemy, and once foiled me in the

moment of triumph. I endeavored to get acquainted with
her female slave, but the poor woman seemed alarmed and

would not notice me. Then I observed that Cesar, the
negro, daily exercised the horse. I met him, patted the
animal, admired his coat, and so gained upon the weakness

of his groom that he communicated every thing tome. That

Rufus, the brother, was his owner, and that he was with the
army of Washington. That another gentleman is also in
their ranks who loves this lady, and whom this lady loves—
your pardon, Major, did you speak 2?” asked the Sergeant, as,
at this point of the recital, an oath escaped the enraged
officer. But, obtaining no reply, he proceeded: “ But I could
extract nothing from him of a suspicious nature.”

“But why did you not offer to deliver letters from the
sister to the brother,” exclaimed the Major, “ or to that other
rebel leader ? We might have then induced these trim heroes
to have stepped within our lines.” ~

- “Major, I could not do that,’ said the Sergeant.

“The lady was less merciful with you,” suggested the
Major. ;

“She used fair strategy, Major,” said the Sergeant, “ and
attracted my attention in one direction when it ought to have
been intent upon another. But these young rebels will come,
Major. Cesar, ignorant of the penalty, says he knows they
will, and that his mistress is most anxious to see them, in
order that she may arrange to quit New York.”

“ We will wait a few days, Scroggins,” said the Major, as
if by this patience to atone for «the insinuation which he had
addressed to the more’ scrupulous Sergeant. “But, is the
house much visited ?”

“ Not at all, Major.”

“Does the lady visit much ?”

“She does not quit the house.”

“Singular,” mused the officer, but loud enough for the

    
 
 
       
     
  
   
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
     
THE WRONG PERSON. 59

Sergeant to hear what was intended as a thought, “that no
friend should call on her.”

“T am wrong, Major,” exclaimed the Sergeant; “she has
received one visitor.”

“ Who ?” said the Major, with indifference...

“A figure in disguise,” said the Sergeant.

“Ha, Scroggins!” said the now animated superior. “You
want to surprise me, good Scroggins. Was it man or
woman ?”

‘““A man—and so thoroughly concealed that I was deceived ; _
but I surrounded the house upon his entry that he might not
escape, and awaited his return. At length he came forth,
but retreated so suddenly that I could not secute him as I
intended.”

“ Dolt—ape—you did not lose him 2” vociferated the Mojo}
as he rose from his chair.

i followed him—overtook him—and would have seized
him,” said the Sergeant, “had I not discovered—”

“ What ?” thundered the Major.

“That he was my commanding officer—yourself,” said the
Sergeant.

“ Perdition !” exclaimed the Major, and he paces the room
in anger.

The Sergeant was an obedient soldier. He knew his duty,
and rigorously performed it; but he would not be made the
instrument of injustice even in the punishment of those whom
he, in his loyalty, thought extravagant offenders. He was
willing, nay anxious, to detect the existence of’crime; but he
would not be the agent to temptation that the objects of such
machinations might be betrayed. He was annoyed at the
device by-which he had lost his prisoners; but there was a
chivalric gallantry about this bold subaltern that made him _
appreciate .the artifice, though somewhat anxious for an —
honorable revenge.

The conduct of the Major was to the Sergeant paradoxical.
He had seen his officer enter the very house the inmate of
which he wished to be charged with treason. He had, how-
ever, given him a seyere rebuke, and had convinced him, at
the same time, how ungenerous was his reproof for lack in
vigilance. The Sergeant was gazing upon the violence of the

 
   
 
     
      
      
       
     
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

tortured man, when he abruptly paused in his rapid walk,
and, in a voice almost indistinct with passion, exclaimed :

“Look well to that house, Scroggins! You have my com
mands to do so. Let a report be made to me each day of
every one that passes in or out, whence they come, and
whither they go. I tell you treason is hatching there, and
should you be negligent in your watch, you surely will be
‘punished as an abettor.”

The Sergeant saw the violent feelings of the Major, and
was about to withdraw, when a sharp knocking was heard at
the door. He opened it to find one of his own men, who had
followed in such haste that he was unable to utter a word.
The breathless messenger, perceiving the Sergeant, motioned

for him to withdraw from the room, which he was about to

do, when the Major roughly and savagely demanded the
cause of all this pantomime.

“Tt is only one of my men, Major,” said the Sergeant,
“who, not finding me at the guard, came on here.”

“A man—a cloak—a figure !” exclaimed the sentinel.

“ An adventure, surely, Scroggins,” said the Major, with a
little more interest and a little less rage.

“Come, Sergeant,” urged the messenger, who now began
to recover his voice, “’tis the same person that you couldn’t
catch afore. We'll have him now.”

“What means this madman?” said the Major. “ Where
does he do duty ?”

“ At Miss Westville’s house,” replied the Sergeant, with
reluctance.

“What saw you there, man?” demanded the Major, with
a rapidity that made the soldier recede,

“ A person entered the house, your honor,” said the soldier,
making the military salute, “ wrapped in a cloak, and I saw
the end of a sword below it.”

“Back to your post!” vociferated the Major, “Dack to
your post, and remember that it is death if he escapes !”

The soldier, acting upon fear of the threat, retreated at a
pace that must have quickly made him again breathless.
The Sergeant, however, paused a moment. He saw the
savage joy that sparkled in the fierce eye of his superior.
He saw his demoniac smile as he muttered indistinctly. At
length he exclaimed :
  

 

PERCY.

“ By all the powers of earth and heaven, we have her now!
and she has entangled in the meshes which entwine her the
rebel Major. Hasten, Scroggins, and take with you such a
guard as may give the maccaroni to the provost-marshal and
the maid at least to scorn. Take them alive. Be guilty of
no such mercy as to kill them—let them be tormented. Oh,
what an hour of ecstasy! Oh, what a night of bliss! What
poetry there is in hope when hope is in revenge! Now,
quick, quick, and drag those prisoners before me that I may
enjoy their grief! The remembrance of this hour of joy will
lighten all the sufferings I have or may yet endure.” 3

The Sergeant,'a man of war, who was accustomed to
regard horrors with indifference, listened to these brutal words
with feelings of disgust. He, nevertheless, bowed to the
orders of his superior, and quitted his presence with a deter-
mination to perform his duty, though he never before —
experienced tle unloyal sentiment to befriend the enemy of
his king.

CHAPTER: X.
THE MUFFLED FIGURE.

STELLA leaped from the couch, on which she was reclining.
as the door closed upon the startling apparition, and she was
about to scream in terror at this second invasion of her
privacy, when a finger was raised as if to implore silence ;
then the figure cast aside the cloak and disclosed the hand-
some person of a field officer of the American army—Percy
Archer !

“ Stella, dearest Stella!” he exclaimed, clasping her in his
arms. “I already read in those sweet eyes the rebuke that
must not be uttered. JI could not endure a longer separation
until assured that you are in safety under this right royal
protection. Other battles we must fight; but our recruits are
raw and unused to fire. Tifey are also undisciplined, badly
clothed and provisioned, and devoid of many of those com-
forts which assist in giving firmness to the heart, and they

 
 

  
oes THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

are consequently discontent and many have abandoned us
Thus we may not just now be able to resist the thousands of
scarlet coats that contribute to the gayety of the city, but have
to retreat. As each day will place me further from you, I
resolved to visit you while these calamities are in abeyance.”

“ But, Percy,” said Stella, ‘“‘ you know not the magnitude of
the danger which you tempt.”

“There is no price, dear Stella,’ replied Percy, “that I

would not gladly pay for the cheer of an hour of your sweet
presence.”
_ “Oh, Percy,” exclaimed Stella, “you know not the swrvedl-
lance to which all residing here are subjected. But an hour
since, I received a visit from a British officer, intimating that
I am suspected to be in correspondence with their enemies,
and that my actions will be strictly guarded. What if you be
seen to enter here ?”

“ Allow not such treacherous thoughts to absorb the happi-
ness of the passing hour,” said Percy. “But you have not
named the bearer of this alarming threat.”

“Tt was Major Malman,” replied Stella, with a slight blush.

“T remember his evil name,” remarked Percy, “and know
enough of him to pronounce this visit a brutal infraction of
common courtesy. Oh, how I wish that I had reached here
one hour earlier, that I might have dyed that royal scarlet that
he so proudly wears in a deeper though less pure hue.”

- “Let not me either cause rash words or rash deeds in you,
Percy,” said Stella; “it would desecrate the sacred sword of
‘liberty to draw it in a private brawl. Close not your eyes to
the danger of your position. If you Jove me, Percy, fly. Your
life is imperiled by your presence here, and, much as I have
wished for you in my lonéliness and sorrow, nothing now will
afford me satisfaction but your absence.”

“ Be calm, dearest Stella,’ said Percy, with emotion; “and
if my presence contributes-so much anguish to a breast I
would rather die than pain, I will do your wishes. But, I
am unsuspected. I came stealthily through the enemy’s lines,
passed their rather idle sentinels, advanced by lonely ways
not yet perhaps known to them, and, reaching this street,
- watched your home some minutes in the shadow. All was
quiet, and every thing looked like indifference and safety ~

 
IN PERIL.

but, to be still further assured I, like a careful soldier in an
enemy’s country, examined the recesses, the doorways, and
dark places, and while all seemed deserted, I entered wnt
securing the door so that no one can follow.”

5 Still, I can not share your confidence,” said Stella. “ There
is a foreboding of impending danger in my mind, which is not
lessened by the cautious manner in which you mee committed
this great imprudence.”

“Dismiss those thoughts, dear Stella,” said Percy, “ which,
like a cloud, so darken the luster of our meeting. . The little
peril in seeking you is surmounted, and the same good fortune
which guided me to your feet will protect me to the camp on
my return.”

“Tam rejecting a solace for which I have much wished i in
thus hastening your departure,” said Stella, with great emotion;
“but it is a tribute to your safety—to your life. Resist me not,
dear Percy ; but fly while yet the door is open to your escape.”

“ My dearest Stella,” said Percy, soothingly, alarmed at her
great agitation, “I will return. I will quit your presence,
this house, and this captured city, although I feel that you are
laboring under the excitement so recently induced by the
threats of that ruthless scoundrel of an officer. But why
should you remain? Would it not be better to quit the city
than be the object of the suspicion, and persecution of its
present governors ?”

“Yes, Percy,” replied Stella, “this is no longer a residence
for me. I have entertained the subject of a removal since the
day of my return, and now that I find I am regarded suspi-
ciously and my actions watched, I am firm in my resolve.
Tell Rufus, therefore, of my wish, which I am sure he will
facilitate, especially when he is aware of the vicinity of —
Malman.”

“T will gladly be the bearer of intelligence so unknown to
us both,” said Percy. “ We shall, no doubt, be kept in activity
all the winter, and shall feel that you vie be safer in Phila-
delphia than here. But now, dear Stella—

“ Hark, Perey,” exclaimed Stella, atyomanitarily clutching
his arm. “T hear footsteps near the door.”

“Imagination, Stella,” replied Percy, after listening an
instant. “ Your fears have overcome your courage. In these

 
64 _ THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

times of war the daughters as well as the sons of America
need metallic nerves.”

“Hush, you are wrong—they are near the door,” continued
Stella, greatly terrified. “They are trying to enter. They
are the British soldiers. They have seen you, Percy. Fly!
If you love me, seek your preservation and save us. both !”

It was true. The ready ear of Stella had detected the
advance of the stealthy spies. They made an effort to effect an
entrance, and when that failed, they summoned the servant by
a rather rude and continued knocking on the door. Stella
stood in the center of the room, her hands clasped in the
“agony of despair as she thought of the terrible consequerttes

to Percy. He, however, exhorting her to be calm, looked
carefully at his pistols, drew his sword, and ‘placed himself at
the door of the parlor. The clamor at the outer. entrance
increased. Chloe, not daring to admit those without, rushed
to the parlor to seek refuge with her mistress, when, perceiy-
ing Percy, stern and determined, with a drawn sword, she fell
to the floor, and sunk into unconsciousness. This incident
reanimated Stella. Advancing toward Percy, she smiled in
his rigid face, and said in a voice too sweet to be resisted :

“ Percy, they have traced you. They seek your life. They
are suspicious in their search for blood, and would not assail
the front of the house before the back of it was well guarded.
But there is a resource, despite their skill and foresight. This
passage,” continued Stella, opening an unseen door, which
betrayed a dark, narrow passage between walls, ‘‘ conducts to
the third house beyond—It is our property, but is now unoc-
cupied and unguarded, and will afford the only means of
avoiding your pursuers.”

“What, Stella,” exclaimed Percy, indignantly, “ think you

‘that I will retreat’ thus cowardly and leave you unprotected :
in the power of these demons ?”

“Shall I be less in their power if you. remain?” asked
Stella, who was fearful every moment that the door would be
forced. “You, an unassisted man, stand bravely and un-
dauntedly in my defense; but the British can oppose to you
an army. Should you be taken, Percy, you will be treated:
as a spy, and they would find some rigorous law to punish
me because I gave you shelter in defiance of their proclama-

 
THE SECRET DOOR. 65

tion. It may be a question of life or death to both. Are
we to be destroyed or saved ?”

“J will go, dearest Stella, I will go,” said Percy, after a
moment’s struggle with other feelings. :

Percy stepped over the prostrate body of the negress, which
was still upon the floor, and clasping his beloved Stella to his
heart, he passed within the dead-door, which Stella had only
just time to close, when the assailants burst the outer door,
and rushed into the parlor. Stella, in the dignity of her grace
and beauty, confronted the marauders, and after a few minutes
of silence, during which she scrutinized the soldiers with great
severity, she said in a commanding voice:

“To what intemperance am I to attribute this violence? Is
a lady, who dwells beneath the assured protection of the English
banner, to be liable to such riotous invasion as this? Behold
one of the consequences of your fury,” and she pointed to the
motionless form of the negress still upon the floor, “and had
I been as accessible to fear, I might have been as helpless. I
ask again, what means this unauthorized outrage ?”

“ Madame,” said a soldier, now advancing in front of those
who stood within the parlor, at the same time bowing low,
“your servant, Sergeant Jeopardy Scroggins of the Fiftieth,
we have met before,’ and he looked significantly. “I trust
my men have not been unnecessarily rude; but wilitary
orders are imperative, and where doors are not opened to their
summons, it is not unlawful to force them. I have te inform
you that a disguised person was seen to enter this house.
My instructions are to seize him.” Then, addressing himself
to his men, he said: ‘Guard well the doors while I search the
house ;” and turning” again toward Stella, he continued:
“Perhaps, Madame, you will conduct me.”

The confidence which Stella had assumed she could not
maintain. It was evident that Percy had been there, and she
followed wherever the prying Sergeant led. At length, they
entered a room apart from the rest. The Sergeant placed the
light upon the table, and, turning abruptly toward Stella, he
said, in a tone little louder than a whisper:

“TI know he is not here; I knew it when I entered. It is
in my power, however, to seize him; but, tell me truly: is ka
come here as a spy or as a friend ?”

 
   

66 THE DAUGHTER OF. LIBERTY.

Stella gazed in astonishment in the face of the Sergeant.
Truth and mercy seemed to dwell there. She hesitated, and
then boldly replied :

“On my honor, he came in devotion to me; but, he must
be—he is—far beyond your power.”

“You are in error,” replied the Sergeant. ‘The secret pas-
sage is not’ unknown to me, nor is the house unoccupied to
which your visitor has fled. J have men there.”

A scream escaped Stella. She clung to the wall for sup-
port and gasped asif her life was ebbing, for she had uncon-
sciously ushered Percy into the very jaws of death. The
Sergeant, feeling acutely the anguish he had caused, sought to
alleviate it, and said:

“ Courage, lady; I have your word for the honor of your
friend, and he has nothing to fear. He shall be free, for I
believe that his visit is not one of treason; that the object of
my Officer is one of vengeance, not of duty, I know.”

These words were as electric as those which had preceded
them; they recalled Stella from despondency, and as soon as
she recovered from the first throe of the reaction, she
approached the Sergeant, pressed his rough hand between her
own, bathed it with her tears, and said, with the solemn
emphasis of inspiration :

“ May the mercy which you so generously extend this night,
be meeted to you in your greatest need !”

The Sergeant smiled in thankfulness, and, while his ear
still retained the sweetness of the voice and his heart the grate-
fulness of the sentiment, his men—the watchful sentinels—
thundered through the house and up the staircase, the cry
of— ‘

“The city is on fire!”

The Sergeant and Stella rushed together to the window.
The flames and smoke rose higher than the houses, and when
the Sergeant saw the locality from which they came, a shud-
der passed over his frame. With almost a shriek, he
exclaimed :

“ My wife—my child—my poor, dear Margarette ;” and with-
out further notice of Stella, or thought of the business of his
visit, he leaped down the staircase, and, still uttering the
same crics, he left the house, followed by his men.

   
~~

=

a

y

A
ath a Sterne eae

| omen Bo
\

THE CONFLAGRATION. 67

The fire raged in Broadway, burning the houses on both
sides with resistless fury. In vain the inhabitants and the
military struggled to master this fearful element—its ravages
seemed. to increase with the efforts to subdue it. Its awful
roar silenced all other sounds. It illumined the whole city
with its flames, and blackened the buildings with its dense
clouds of smoke, while the waters of the harbor were covered
with the fragments of its violence. _ Y

Stella descended to the parlor. Chloe had recovered. She
had risen from the floor, and now stood gazing upon this new
terror from the window. But the fire, with all its appalling
features, its lofty flames, its intense heat, its smoke, and its
Gestruction, which might involve her dwelling in ruin in
another minute, was not the absorbing horror of Stella’s
mind. The danger of Perey was firmly imprinted there; and
now that the kind Sergeant, by sorrows of his own, had been
attracted from his promise, she resolved to attempt the rescue
of her beloved Percy alone. She knew that this period of
confusion and alarm was not likely to beget increased vigi-
lance, and had but little doubt that the guard in the unoccu-
pied house had followed to the fire. Stella left the abstracted
Chloe to wonder at the glare, and, passing from the doorway,
hastened to the house whither the passage conducted Percy.
The door was open—she walked in. The apartments were
lighted by that fearful torch which was devastating the city ;
but they were abandoned and silent. She entered the room
where was the exit from the secret passage. The panel was
tightly closed. She knocked—no sound returned. It was
plain that Percy had left; but, whether in the custody of
those whom the Sergeant had stationed there, or whether he
had eluded them, was still a mystery. With a palpitating
heart, unrelieved by this visitation, she quitted the house,
and, just as she entered the street, a shriek, deep and piercing,
met her ear. It proceeded from a woman coming rapidly
toward Stella. She was bending fondly over her child, which
she pressed tightly to her breast. She seemed in frantic
agitation, and alternately uttered loud and thrilling screams
and wailing sobs. When she perceived Stella she exclaimed,
in a loud, shrill voice:

“Run! run! Its coming—it will come! Look at it on

 
  

68 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

the houses, on the roads, in the air, on you, on me, on my
yoor babe! Oh, how it scorches! Run! run! But for a
rebel I should be mad, and my poor babe a cinder !”

Then, shuddering and folding her arms closer round her
child, she uttered another thrilling scream, and hastened
onward.

Stella felt great sympathy for the frenzied state of the poor
sufferer. Following her, just as she reached her house; she
eaught her arm.

“My friend,” said Stella, kindly, “ you are in misfortune.
I am also a poor child of sorrow—so that in this we are sisters.
This is my residence. Come in—remain here to-night, and
in the morning, when you are more composed, I will
accompany you home.”

“ Home !” exclaimed the woman, with a look that showed
the agonizing associations it conjured up, “I have no home—
it is gone—it is in ashes !”

“Then accept the shelter of my roof—at least to-night,”
said Stella.

“Good lady,” exclaimed the woman, resuming the excite-
ment in which Stella had first seen her, “ there is no safety
here. There is too much light. I want darkness. I want
to hide my child from all this burning light.”

“Tt is dark within,” pleaded Stella, “and your infant will
be in greater safety than in these dangerous streets.”

The woman took little notice of this last invitation, but
stood gazing intently upon the earth, when Stella, taking
advantage of this placid state, conducted her gently into the
house, where she sunk with exhaustion upon a couch. In
the mean time the inert faculties of Chloe had become more
active. She had a dim recollection of the swordsman who
caused her insensibility, and of the rougher sons of Mars who
had reclaimed her; but these had been dissipated by the
scene on which she had been so intently gazing as it filled
the air with light and heat, and which she thought was some
demonstration of the “ Britishers,” of whom she had heard
such wondrous tales. She now, however, assisted in the
charity of her mistress, and cherished the slumbering infant,
while Stella applied such restoratives to the mother as soon
induced a return of consciousness. When she beheld the

 
    
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
   
   
  
  
   

aS
  

are

 

RESCUED FROM THE FLAMES. _ 69

kindness with which she was treated, the gentleness of Chloe
to her child, and the safety of both, she no longer exhibited
those maniacal symptoms which had first attracted the tender-
ness of Stella. Another hour of tranquillity, and she could
look back upon the occurrences of the night with more calm-
ness, and soon volunteered to recount to Stella every
circumstance.

“T was retiring to bed,” she said, “ when I was alarmed by
a cry of fire. I went down stairs to inquire into the truth,
and. found that several houses were in flames, including that
in which I resided, which was burning so rapidly as to pre-
vent my return to the rescue of my poor child. There were
many men, and I implored them to assist in saving the infant ;
but they did not regard me, when a stranger, mufiled in a
cloak, who had heard my prayers, advanced and said, ‘I will
save your child, my good woman, only direct me to the room.’
I did so. He rushed into the flames, and I thought that he
never could come forth again, they were so fierce; but he
appeared soon after from out the raging fire, and, placing the
child in my arms, he said, ‘I am a rebel, in the phraseology
of your army. I love a lady‘in this city who is persecuted
by one of your officers. The only kindness I ask of you is
to extend your assistance to this lady whenever she may
require it. She will know you by this, and what is yet more
important, will know that she can confide in you. He was
handsome and an officer. I know not how we parted. I
did not even thank him. My eyes were dazzled and weak-
ened by the flames—my heart was filled with feelings never
there before, and, although I could have yielded him my life,
and felt that my soul was not half large enough for the grate-
fulness he had excited, yet I spoke not a word. Nor do I
remember more. The bracelet he gave me is upon my arm,
and there it shall remain until I find a claimant, to do which
I will walk this city day after day. I will befriend her with
my life, if necessary.”

As the woman concluded, she raised her arm that the
precious talisman upon it might be examined. Stella, diverted
at the romance of the gallant salamander who had thus boldly
defied the flames to save a child, bent down to view the ©
ornament, when an ejaculation of joy and astonishment
escaped her, and she exclaimed :

 

  
  

70 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Tt was Percy !. He has escaped! . The armlet is mine /”

Down on her knees the woman fell. Tears flowed from
her eyes in streams, and grateful exclamations fell from her
lips. She embraced the knees of Stella, vowed herself a
slave, and begged that she would again pronounce the name
of the hero who had saved her child, that she might write it
on her heart and never forget it in her prayers, and that she
might instruct her child that the letters which formed his
name were sacred to its life.

At length Stella induced the grateful creature to rise from
the floor, and to listen to language which taught that to the
Dispenser and not to the agent in these great mercies are our
best feelings due. The thankful woman bowed submissively
to the sweet voice she heard, but she only reyerenced her
monitor the more.

The night advanced. The fire still raged, rising in broad
sheets of flame high in the atmosphere, and reducing to
houseless wanderers hundreds of frantic people, who, joining
their screams to the roar of the fierce element, increased the
terror of this tragic scene.

In the midst of this frightful “clamor, a summons was
sounded upon the outer door of Stella’s residence. Csxsar
was away, the child still slumbered in the arms of Chloe, and,
therefore, Stella responded to the continued knocking. She
opened the door, and there stood a British soldier. Stella
started back at sight of that ominous uniform, a source of so
much sorrow and alarm to her; but the man of war seemed
now a man of peace, if not a suppliant, for he leaned against
the door-casing in great exhaustion.

“Shun me not, gentle lady,” said the soldier, in piteous

accents; “I come to tell you that your friend escaped—to -

give you joy not pain. I withdrew the guard as I passed,
and thus his course was clear.”

Stella listened in gratefulness and @elight, while she
regarded the speaker with the deepest sympathy—it was the
worthy Sergeant. He was disguised in his extreme agony
and disorder of dress. His eyes were protruding and _ blood-
shot—his cheeks were hollowed—his nostrils expanded from the
effect of his rapid respirations—and his lips were colorless,
and he seemefl like the sufferer of years instead of an hour

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
  
  
  
   
  

“~—

 

e A KINDNESS QUICKLY REWARDED. U1

Stella remembered the cry with which he had left, and she
feared to ask him to confirm the dreadful fatality she thought
she read so plainly in his face. 5 .

“Come in, my friend, come in,” said Stella, “and permit
me to administer something to relieve you. I feel sensibly
the anxiety which you have exhibited to lighten my anguish,
while your own heart is heavily burdened with affliction.”

The Sergeant staggered in. Stella ushered him to a quiet
room. He sunk into a chair, uttered a deep groan, and, as
he reclined upon his seat, his closed eyes, wan and pallid
cheeks, and depending arms, stretched to the floor on either
side, caused Stella to fear that he was lifeless. She was about
to seek refuge from this death scene, when the sleeping child,
in the adjoining room, awoke and began to speak those words
within its narrow powers.

“Ah! my pretty bird, are you chirping still?” said the
Sergeant, in a weak voice.

Then he unclosed the heavy lids which sealed his eyés,
while the voice of the infant was the only sound that broke
the quietness. They wandered round the room in silent
inquiry. They rested nowhere. They sought an object they
could not see and yet felt sure was there. Then a still louder
exclamation came from the merry child. The ghastly Ser-
geant rose softly from what Stella had just thought was his
death swoon. She was appalled at his ghastly appearance,
and receded to the door; but he exclaimed, in almost frantic
accents :

“Where does that voice come from ?”

“ From a child in the next room,” replied Stella.

“ Does it live?” exclaimed the still incredulous Sergeant.

“ Yes,” responded Stella.

“And its mother?” vociferated the Sergeant, as if it were
an hysteric effort of which he feared to hear the answer.

“Ts with it,” said Stella.

The Sergeant no longer doubted. With a bound he reached
the door of the apartment.

“Wife! wife!’ he screamed, as he advanced; and, as
that dear ery rung in the matron’s ears, she responded by
exclaiming :

“My husband! my husband !”

 

  
   

72 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY. *

They embraced each other, kissed their dear child, aud then
kneeled before Stella.

The. pure-hearted Stella pointed upward. The rebuke
was felt, and together all acknowledged the grace where
thankfulness was due.

When the Sergeant heard from his wife the miraculous
preservation of his child, and of the recognition of the rebel
hero by their lovely hostess, he turned toward Stella and said :

“How much I owe that gallant foe; how little 1 am able
to repay him. Tell him, fair lady, that there is one grateful
heart in the enemy’s camp, and more than one who is well
conyinced of the noble and generous nature of your people.”

“You. owe the advantages that you enjoy to your own sense
of justice,” said Stella. ‘Had you been as vindictive as your
Major, you might now be childless and a widower.”

The call of duty now compelled the delighted Sergeant to
repair to the scene of the conflagration. It was still dev-
astating the city, though, after great efforts, it was finally
arrested; but not until it had reduced to ashes nearly five
hundred houses, or an eighth of the whole city, and rendered
destitute an army of inhabitants.

The next morning Stella was one of the most sedulous in
contributing to the comfort of this desolate tribe ; but, despite
all her efforts, great misery was endured, for, as the fire was
ungenerously attributed by the British to the incendiary
predisposition of the Americans, little or no sympathy was
exhibited by them for the poor sufferers.

CHAPTER X.
UNAPPEASED VENGEANCE,

Now did the Major think to gratify his desire for revenge.
Now did he hold this fair woman at his mercy. He already
pictured the discomfited beauty and her confederate, be he
brother or brother’s friend, within his power, and thus fed on
the banquet before the feast was called. The atmosphere of

   

=P
  

ree

 

. THIRSTING FOR REVENGE. io

the room was too confined for the largeness of his joy, and he
went forth into the streets. They were no longer dark.
Those groping, narrow ways which led to Stella’s house were
now easily threaded, yet he did not observe what it was
that made obscurity so clear. - There were cries, there was
agitation, and both were indicative of calamity; but his ear,
like his soul, could only relish one particular sound, one voice
of lamentation—the cry of Stella for mercy.

Presently a soldier rushed past him; he was’ in haste, but
the Major saw enough to distinguish the Sergeant.

“Scroggins,” he cried, “you are going for me. I am
here, my good fellow. I was impatient. “I could not wait.”

It was the Sergeant. He heard his name pronounced. He
knew the voice of his officer, but he did not pause. He was
frantic with alarm.

“Look up, look up, Major,” he exclaimed. “The city is
on fire.” ;

“Ha!” ejaculated the Major, the whole mystery of this
flood of light now just occurring to his absorbed mind. Still,
revenge was uppermost in his heart—he felt the fire within
his breast more than the conflagration of the houses, and,
following the Sergeant, he cried: “The spy—the spy! where

is he?”

“My wife!” exclaimed the Sergeant, making all haste

toward his quarters.
“The lady! where have you confined her?” again queried

_ the Major.

“My poor child!” was the only response of the Sergeant,
and with this cry he disappeared.

The officer still pursued, and when he came upon the scene
of disaster, he saw a woman wringing her hands in agony,
and shrieking for her babe. A commanding figure bounded
from the flames, and, approaching the despairing mother,
placed her infant in her arms. Thanks poured from the
grateful parent’s.mouth, and he then attempted to retire.

The Major watched this stranger narrowly, and when the
cloak unfolded, it disclosed a uniform that was not British.
Then, unmindful of the gallant action he had witnessed, and
regardless of the charity that induced it, he grasped his pistol,
advanced, and, leveling it at the unsuspecting stranger’s head,
fired, exclaiming :

 

  
    

74 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“ Traitor, die!”

But a boy, who had eyed the Major as keenly as he had
observed the stranger, sprung forward, dashed up the officer’s
arm, the pistol exploded, and. the stranger was. unharmed.
The Major turned upon the delinquent in terrible anger, when
he perceived his favorite attendant—his faithful Claude.

“ Claude,’ exclaimed the foiled man, “ would you have an
incendiary escape? He isarebel. It is he and others of his
class who fired the city.” Then crying aloud to some soldiers,
he continued: “ Seize that man—that rebel in the cloak.”

But the rebel was too dextrous and too intrepid, and made
choice of an avenue of escape which appalled these fierce
pursuers. He entered the flames through which he had
appeared, and no one followed.

The night was one of such agitation that it was late in the
morning before the Major found the Sergeant. Neither had
slept, and both were blackened with smoke, and were suffering
from fatigue, but the Major’s vengeance was active.

“ Scroggins,” he exclaimed, “where have you secured your

prisoner ?”

“He escaped,” was the reply.

The veins on the forehead of the officer were swollen with
the violence of his passion. The Sergeant saw the coming
storm, but he could not avoid it.

“There'is villainy in this—gross villainy!” said the Major.
“Did you enter the house ?”

“JT did, and posted guards in back and front,” said the
Sergeant; “and, when I could find no one, the lady confessed
that the visitor had escaped before I entered.

“Hal” said the Major, “Did she acknowledge that a
rebel had been there ?”

“She did, Major,” said the Sergeant, with reluctance.

“Then this false woman shall receive the punishment of
both,” said the Major.

The interview between the officer and his Sergeant ended
thus abruptly; but the latter saw the malignity in the
countenance of his superior.

That evening Stella was summoned before the council,
where a number of officers, collected round a table, were
profoundly grave. They were in regimentals, and, upon her

   

   
>

STELLA BEFORE THE COUNCIL. "S

entrance, rose and bowed. The General soon entered, and
then the business commenced.

“T trust, Miss Westville,” said the General, “that our formal
summons has not occasioned you alarm; but as we have
encountered you in the field and in the drawing-room,
somewhat to our mortification, we now view you as rather a
formidable enemy, and are compelled to ask an explanation
of a circumstance in which you are again a prominent actor.
We are here to repress with the sword the rebellion of the
colonists of his most gracious majesty, and those who claim
our protection by residing in this city must conform to our
regulations. One of the most important is, that no one shall
hold correspondence with the rebels. It is charged that you
have violated that ordinance, and on that point I would ask
your explanation.”

“T have little to explain, sir,” replied Stella, “ but my state-
ment will be one of truth. I love my country and its liberties.
I havea brother on yonder heights, determined to dispute
with you every inch of ground until he dies. I have, too,
other friends in that devoted army whom I revere. <A few
evenings since Major Malman, whom I had known in England,
called to warn me that I was suspected to be in correspond-
ence with the enemy. Up to that moment I had heard nothing
from my brother, or from any other person of the army,
directly or indirectly. The Major addressed me in a spirit
which I resented, and he left my residence in great excitement,
while I remained in the highest indignation at his really
uncalled for conduct and his threats.

“T had not recovered from the agitation of this visit, when a
strange figure presented itself before me. I rose from my
chair in alarm, and when the figure ascertained he was not
pursued, he cast off his cloak and disclosed an officer of the
rebel army. I was deeply affected and unexpectedly troubled
at this rashness, and urged him to instant flight. He was the
friend of my brother—the friend of my childhood, and I
dreaded the consequence of his daring. While I-implored
him to leave, there came a rough knocking at the door and a
demand to be admitted. The visitor escaped. Sergeant
Scroggins entered with his men, to whom I acknowledged
that an officer of the enemy had been in the house, but for
no treacherous purpose.”

 
    

%6 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Tt is said,” remarked the General, who had listened with
great attention, “that this same officer was afterward seen at
the fire. Have you reason to believe that he was there 2”

“He was there,” said Stella, “ for he rescued the Sergeant’s
child from destruction, and sent me a symbol that he had
done so.”

“There is no need to afford. you further trouble,” said the
General, who seemed much impressed with the integrity of
her statement, as well as by the beauty and elegance of her
person; “but in our duty as soldiers, and with a sagacious
enemy so near, we arey»naturally suspicious. There is, how-
ever, one observation which I think I may offer with some
adyantage—that there is a terrible punishment visited upon
the person who penetrates an enemy’s encampment in disguise,
and it is also utterly disallowed that such ‘delinquent should
be assisted in an escape even by a lady, whatever her relation
may be to him. Still, had a daughter of my own acted in the
manner which you did, I could not, and would not, have
reproached her; I would only have cautioned her on the
future.”

The whole assembly concurred in the sentiments of the
General, and Stella quitted the apartment with far more
satisfaction than she had entered it. This satisfaction was
increased the following day, on being informed by the Ser-
geant, that no special espial would longer be directed to her
house or actions.

CHAPTER XI.
THE FLIGHT.

NorwiTHsTANDING the expostulations of Stella, Percy
would rather have remained and confronted his enemies, than
have made an ignominious retreat ; but her distress conquered
his daring, and he yielded the felicity for which he had risked
so much, and fled. He plunged along the dark and narrow
way until he reached the place of exit; but here he paused,
for he distinctly heard voices engaged in conversation. ‘Then

   

“_-—
  

~~

 

PASSING THE PICKETS. V7

he heard a loud cry, as if of astonishment or alarm, and then
arush from the room. Then all was silent for a while, when
he ventured to unclose the door of his sanctuary. The room
was unoccupied ; but it was brilliantly lighted by some inyisi-
ble agency. Still, there was no sound, and he proceeded to

*, the door. The street was abandoned; but the light was still

more brilliant than within, accompanied by a noise in the air
like the rushing of great waters. It was then he perceived
that New York was on fire!

Percy hastened to the source of this monstrous glare, and
there saw a woman in despair at the peril of her child. His
heart was touched at her grief. He rescued the infant, and,
while presenting it to its almost maniac parent, was recog-
nized as an American soldier, shot at by Major Malman, and ~
pursued by several of his regiment ; but he redeemed himself
from this last danger in a manner which astonished the
beholders. He had observed, when seeking the infant, that
the flames just at that point formed merely a thin curtain,
although it seemed so fierce, and that beyond was comparative
freedom. He therefore drew his cloak around him and rushed
into this fiery screen, whither those who sought his blood
dared not to follow. He proceeded with the utmost speed
along the illumined streets, that he might regain the greater
security of the country, and thus reach the patriot camp.
Passing through the mazy woods, and, with some difficulty
avoiding the swamps, he reached that point of the British lines
through which he had stolen earlier in the evening; but, to
his dismay, he found that the sentinels were now doubled.
The extraordinary brightness of the heavens had apprised the
officers of some calamity at a distance, and had induced them
to take this precaution.

Disappointed, though not discouraged, he made every
attempt to deceive the faithful soldiers. He practiced the
wile of the Indian, and crept upon the earth from bramble to
bramble, and from bush to bush; but, even the little noise
indispensable to such a stealthy movement, and which scarcely
disturbed the stillness of the night, did not escape the ear of
the practiced soldier. The night was fust waning. "He there-
fore resolved to search for some less guarded point, and,
for this purpose, plunged deeper into the woods. While

 

  
   

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

advancing with rapid strides, and with all the vigor that peril
and hope inspired, he suddenly beheld, proceeding at the same
quick pace, though more noiselessly than himself, and almost
at his elbow, the specter! The blood of Percy, which had
been heated by his exertions and his fears, now chilled in his

veins, as if his miraculous visitor instilled some of the dampness *

of the grave into these channels. It soon spoke:

“ Why this haste ?” it asked.

“T am walking for my life,” replied Percy, abruptly.

“This is the road to death,” remarked the specter.

A shudder passed over Percy. He could not pronounce a
word.

“But you have been seeking death all night,” continued his
tormentor. “Your first attempt, was an hour after twilight,
when you passed these lines—your second, an hour later, when
you nearly involved a lady in the same destruction—again,
when you restored a child, a British babe, to its desponding
mother, for which you was gratefully shot at by a British
officer—and, now, before the hour-glass shall run a tenth its
span, unless you abate your pace, you will have reached the
goal where the sorrows of earth end, and those of the grave
will begin.” 2

“ What way shall I turn?” asked Percy, in amazement at
the creature’s knowledge.

The specter looked up and down the whole British lines,
as if his eyes could penetrate both night and distance, and
then replied:

“There is one weak point; but it is far off, and the morn-
ing is approaching. You must hasten, for you have a rival in
the east, and with his first rays your treason will be disclosed.”

“Treason ?” repeated Percy, interrogatively.

“That is the term used in this camp for such an offense as
yours,” remarked the specter, facetiously, “and the punishment
is yet more ignominious.”

Percy did not reply. There was an expression of exulta-
tion in the last remark that made him doubt whether he ought
to confide in such a shadowy adviser ; but not caring to exhibit
further indecision, he determined to follow it.

“Be careful,’ remarked the specter, as they passed on their
way, “how you again intrust yourself into a cage where the
bars are muskets, and the keepers wary soldiers,”

   
“>

  

    

THE SPECTER AGAIN. 79

“T will remember your caution,” replied Percy.

No space seemed too rapid for the nimble stranger, and
though the perspiration poured from the face of Perey, in his
great efforts to outrun the guide, the latter seemed wholly
unaffected by the effort. At length they reached a grove
where a sentinel was placed. The ghostly guide, pointing to
this well-guarded post, said:

“There is the only weakness in the British lines !”

Percy gazed in astonishment in the face to which he had
so much aversion. It was monstrous, he thought, to lead hit
thus for safety into danger. The soldier—powerful, erect,
and tall—paced to and fro his walk with confidence, and even
while they stood there, the ery of “ All’s well!” which sounded
along the line from the East to the Hudson River, was
responded to byhim. When Percy accidentally broke a twig,
the sentinel paused, holding his gun menacingly. Such
vigilance as this was now exhibited to him as weakness! He
was inclined to upbraid this perfidious guide, but he repressed
his anger and observed:

“That sentinel is too watchful to be passed.”

“Man discerns but little’ said the specter ; “I see not with
the eyes that-blind you. You must pass that man or die.”

“How can I sufficiently conceal myself?” asked Percy.

“Concealment is not needed,” said the specter ; then turning
toward the east, he added: “ Yonder will soon appear my
signal to depart. Be bold,—be prompt,—or if you have not
courage for the trial, await the Provost Marshal.”

“T fear nothing,” said Percy.

“Then advance or perish,” exclaimed the guide, with a
vehemence so terrible that Percy started from the ground. He
saw that day would dawn, and he determined to make the
venture, though it seemed like walking into the jaws of death.
He therefore advanced. The sentinel still paced to and fro—
still paused at intervals, and though Percy thought his cause
most desperate, he continued to approach until he had reached
within ten yards of the beat. Then the soldier stopped. He
listened, inclined his ear and body forward, covering the body
of Perey with his musket, while his hand was placed firmly
cn the trigger. This was a terrible position, and the patriot
only expected death. He instinctively looked toward the

 

   
   

  

80 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

monster who had thus decoyed him within the meshes of the
enemy. He was just perceptible. Percy saw a horrid smile
upon his ghostly visage, and the specter disappeared.

He was recalled from the feeling of terror which pervaded
him, to his imminent peril. The warder had not moved, nor
spoken, but still seemed vigilant and determined. Percy
moved slightly, so as to withdraw his body from the range of
the sentinel’s weapon. He offered no opposing movement,
and Percy, still in greater wonder, approached still closer to
Wis enemy. ‘Then, again, the ery, “ All’s well!” ran along the
line, and the sentinel, recovering his position, gave to his
comrades the reassurance of the safety of his post, by
exclaiming aloud, “ All’s well!” and resumed his lonely round.
Percy, however, had looked well into his face, and there he
encountered the glaring eye and motionless eyelid of the
somnambulist! The sentinel had slumbered upon his post,
and, although awake to all his other duties, was really dead to
that so important to the security of the camp.

Thus Percy escaped this last danger between himself and
his own regiment. It was day before he reached his quarters,
and here he was overcome by exhaustion. On the following
morning he revealed to Rufus his adventures. The more
discreet brother of Stella severely condemned the proceeding.
Both, however, resolved that Stella should be removed as soon
as possible ;*but more active military occupations rendered this
not directly practicable. They were able, however, to transmit
to her unsealed letters through the medium of officers who

" were exchanged, assuring her that she should be removed at
some early period, and proceed at once to Philadelphia.

CHAPTER XII:
THE MAJOR AT HIS QUARTERS.

Mayor Matman was present when Stella appeared before the
Council. He thought she looked more beautiful than eyer,
and his heart warmed with the confidence that the decision of
the tribunal before which she stood, would soon cause her to

 
yu

 

  

CLAUDE.

rejoice at his intercession in her behalf: How much was he
astonished—how- much chagrined—when, by an artless and
lucid avowal of all that had transpired, Stella gained the
admiration of those harsh military leaders who always uphold
the policy of severe examples, where their orders were thus
openly defied. He could remain for no other business, but
affected indisposition, and returned home.- There he closed
the door against intrusion, and his eyes against the light of
heaven, and plunging his head between his hands as his elbows
rested on the table, he gave free expression to his malignity.
He now had ascertained that this visitor was the rebel Major,
who had purchased even the gratitude of Scroggins by
restoring his child, and whom he would have shot but for the
intemperate conduct of his servant, Claude.

Days and weeks passed, and the Major still nursed his rancor
without having seen a fitting hour for vengeance, when he-
received orders to prepare to quit the city with his regiment.
It was resolved by General Howe to occupy Philadelphia,
and, although the determination and the achievement were by
no means equal—which the sequel proved—the proud Briton
thought them so, and the Major’s regiment was to form a
portion of the triumphant force. The Major was no coward.
He-thought battle a pastime, and he liked activity ; though he
was not disposed to quit the vicinity of Stella. Still, prepa-
rations must. be made. He therefore summoned Claude, that
yg might dismiss the necessary preliminaries from his mind:

““Weare ordered to quit the city, Claude,” said the Major
as his servant appeared, “and have to fight our way to
Philadelphia—you will see it on the map.”

The boy answered with a melancholy smile.

“You are pleased, Claude,” continued the Major; “to me,
you are a paradox, for, when I last entered battle it seemed
to sadden your heart that a soldier should undergo such peril.”

“Oh, sir,” replied the boy, in a voice full of feeling, “I
feared the consequences to you; but I am tired of this idle,
slothful life, especially when I see that it has dangers as
formidable as those of war.”

“What mean you, boy ?” demanded the Major.

“That in you, inaction has been perilous to your heart,”
replied Claude.

 

  
     

82

   
 
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
         

 

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Claude!” exclaimed the Major, sternly.

“Do you imagine,” said Claude, “that I have not observed
that pallid face, those saddening fits of abstraction, and that,
loving you as I do,I should not seek the cause? With
sorrow I see that all this change has been effected in the
gallant Major Malman by the fair face of a rebel daughter.
Did you come here to love? Were you commissioned for this
species of subjugation? No, no! Therefore do I welcome
the more cheerful sounds of the .cannon—the threatening
language of the musket—the carnage of the sword, rather
than see you the slave of an infatuation in which it is almost
treason to indulge.”

The boy spoke with great vehemence, while his face burned
with blushes or anger. The Major regarded him severely,
and then the eyes of the boy fell to the ground, their brilliant
flashes were subdued, and he seemed more like a penitent than
the accuser of the previous minute. Still, the Major did not
reproach the bold youth, and the austerity of his countenance
gradually subsided as the air of melancholy resumed its empire
upon the visage of the boy. At length the Major said:

“There are many things, Claude, in times of war and
difficulty, that furrow the countenance of the soldier and
agitate his mind far more than the affections of his heart. I
knew the lady to whom you refer, in England, and my
recollection of her is by no means pleasing; indeed, so much
otkerwise, that I, under sufficient evidence of course, was
instrumental in the charge preferred against her before ‘he
Council.”

The boy shook his head as if incredulous. The Major saw
this motion of dissent, and approaching him kindly, and
placing his hand upon his shoulder, said :

“ Prepare our trayeling trunks, good Claude, for to-morrow
we quit this city.”

The boy moved toward the door,

“ And, Claude,” continued the Major, “let Scroggins know
that I wish to see him.”

Claude quitted the presence of his master. When he closed
the door, the Major seemed to breathe more freely.

“That boy is an enigma I cannot solve,” remarked he to

himself.” He is a marvelous fellow. I have watched him ee
 

  

THE MAJOR PLOTTING. -" 83

closely—he loves me to a fault; but, his jealousy is deadly,
and exceeds that of a maiden. Why should he manifest this
aversion so markedly toward women?” Stella Westville now
is the object of his hatred, and if I looked upon another lady
it would be the same with her; and yet, when I attempt to
chide him for this conduct, and remind him that there is an
interval between master and servant that must be preserved,
my tongue refuses to utterthe reprimand, and the subject drops.”

Now entered the worthy Sergeant Scroggins, who, removing
the cap from his head and bowing, stood as upright and
motionless as if the Major had saluted him with the word—
“ Attention !”

“Well, Scroggins,” said the Major, “we are to take the
field directly.”

“ Always glad to serve his Majesty,” replied the Sergeant.

“That is a soldierly sentiment, Scroggins,” said the Major.

“The sentiment of the Fiftieth, sir’ said Scroggins. :

“T am proud of their loyalty,” remarked the Major. “ We
want true men now. Our destination is through the Jerseys
to Philadelphia, where Lord Cornwallis hopes to meet Con-
gress—should they await him there—in twénty-one days.”

“Tts but for his lordship to lead, and we will follow,”
replied this dutiful soldier.

The Major paused. He had not yet reached the subject to
speak of which he summoned the Sergeant. He now said:

“Have you seen Miss Westville during the last few days ?”

“This morning, Major,” said the Sergeant.

“T regret that. little unpleasantness,” returned the Major,
“in reference to that visitor from the camp. I should’ be
happy to explain to her personally how I was directed to
act by that very Council who subsequently treated her so
gallantly. Do you think she would receive me ?”

“No, sir,” responded the unsophisticated subaltern.

“You speak unhesitatingly,” said the Major.

“Since that affair,” replied the Sergeant, “ the lady will not
unclose her door to a male, friend or foe.”

“How know you that?” asked the Major.

“My wife,” replied the Sergeant.

“What is the intention of this lady ?” said the Major. “She
san not long live thus like a recluse ; her health will suffer.”

 

  
  
     
  
  
 
    
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

s
84 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“She intends to leave New York,” said the Sergeant, and
visit Philadelphia.”

The Major said-no more of Stella. He had obtained enough
from the Sergeant on which to found a plan of operations,
and as he was very fond of strategy in war, he thought to
employ a little of it in feeding his obduracy of heart. Scrog-
gins was dismissed. For a time he sat in deep, but smil-
ing meditation, revolving in his mind how he would use the
information obtained. Then he arose and attended the mess,

“where his buoyancy of spirit was a matter of general remark.

This gayety could only be ascribed by his brother officers to
his approaching campaign.

The next morning all was ready. The faithful Claude,
with the assiduity and care of one who loved his master, had
all in readiness, and with colors flying and band playing
martial airs, the Major crossed to Staten Island, there to enter
upon the campaign. Already transports were busy bearing
the troops over to Amboy.

The Sergeant marched with his comrades, while his wife
stood upon the beach, holding the infant in her arms which
she had -received from Percy, shedding tears at the departure
of her husband. Her heart was deeply afflicted that the
imperious call of duty should compel him to fight against those
to whom she owed so much gratitude.

‘The Sergeant had visited Stella the evening before his
departure. It was an affecting meeting. She saw in him the
enemy of Percy and her brother, and he in her the devoted
friend of the man to whom he was most indebted on earth.

“JT can not ask—I must not hear, I wish not to know the
regiments to which your brother and my dear friend are
attached,” said the worthy soldier, “ for my heart would sink—
my hand would fail, when fortitude and courage are most
needed, and Sergeant Scroggins, of the Fiftieth, might. act
as he never did before; but their names are written on my
heart, and should any misfortune occur to them, from me they
will always receive a soldier’s sympathy and a soldiex’s care”
~~

 

  

CHAPTER XIII.
THE FALSE EMBASSADOR.

Tur American forces had gradually retired from Harlem
Heights to White Plains, but not without retrieving the irreso-
lution displayed at Turtle Bay by several severe. and
triumphant skirmishes with the enemy, which proved to the
British that they were bold in heart, if somewhat ragged in
attire.

Since the fire, the Sergeant’s wife had occupied the dwelling
to which the secret passage led, and, through this dark chan-
nel Stella would often seek the society of her- humble and
grateful friends, that she might hear through the Sergeant the
gallant efforts of the sons of liberty. He—though devoted to
his king, his country, and his duty—accorded to the Americans
the full meed of praise due to their dauntless bravery.

With the departure of the Fiftieth, however, she lost this —

‘truthful chronicler, and obtained only the boastful version which

the British published of their own successes, which boded
nothing but destruction to the patriots.

Each day brought more calamitous intelligence, which was
announced by the ringing cheers of the soldiery and the smiles
and derision of their officers and the loyal Tories. Cornwal-
lis wrote that the Americans were so nimble and light of foot
that he could not catch them—that however inefficient they
might be in the ranks, they were unapproachable in the race,
especially when the stout men of Britain followed in their
rear. Such boastful wittiness made Stella impatient to place
her ears beyond the influence of her enemies, and to quit.a
city alive with repugnant exultation. She almost resolved to
seek Rufus with no other protection than that of her slaves;
for, notwithstanding the braggart folly of Cornwallis, she had
no doubt, that the little patriot army was to be overtaken with
far less speed than he had pretended to have exerted.

One eyening, while she still pondered over this wish, she
heard an altercation at the door between Cxsar and Chloe,
and a hoarse, loud yoice. These slaves had become zealous

 

  
   

  

86 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

porters since the entrance of Percy, and now opposed
this stranger’s admittance to their mistress. Stella approached
the scene of strife, and demanded the stranger’s business.

“T guess you're the missus,” said the stranger.

“Yes,” replied Stella.

“Then Tye a message for ye, from yer brother,” said the
stranger.

“From Massa Ruf,’ exclaimed Cesar and Chloe in a voice.

“ Where is he?” exclaimed Stella.

“On the Del’war,” responded the stranger.

“Come in, come in,” said Stella. ‘The slaves stood back to
make room for this now welcome visitor.

Tie was tall and bony. His face was bushy with rough
and yellowish hair, which, however, did not conceal the ill-
expression of his mouth, which was one of greed and malignity,
while in his sparkling eyes there was the cunning of the fox.
His hands were tough as leather. He seemed one of those
iron men now only seen upon the frontier. He was apparently
unarmed, unless weapons were concealed beneath the hunting
shirt which he wore; but he appeared a formidable opponent
even as he stood.

“Have you a letter from my brother, my ae. ?” asked
Stella, as she invited her visitor to a seat.

“Na paper o’ that sort,” said the stranger.

“No letter !” exclaimed Stella; “and you from my brother
too?”

“T guess not,” said the stranger. “TI cale’late you don’t
catch me with sich things on my parson as is a death-
warrant.”

“What mean you?” asked Stella.

“Why, that the red-coats would hang me on the next tree
if they could get me with papers for the rebels,” said the
stranger.

“Not if they contained no treason,” remarked Stella.

“As for the matter o’ treason,” said the stranger, “I guess
they hang ye when they get the papers long afore they
read it.”

“Then what is the object of your visit ?’ added Stella.

“To tell ye that yer brother and the ’tother chap am
well, and to ax ye to go and see ’em,” replied the stranger.

 
 

  

CHRIS WRYNECK. 87

“How can I pass through a country overrun with hostile
soldiery ?” said Stella.

“T calclate its pretty considerable of a snarl,” said the
stranger, ‘“‘ but, I guess that them what knows Chris Wryneck
nadn’t be afeard t’ foller his advice.”

This was the first intimation of the notable embassador
that he was the chosen agent of Rufus and “ the other chap,”
to conduct Stella to them on her way to Philadelphia. He
might possess the indispensable qualifications of a guide; but
Stella was fearful that Rufus, in his anxiety for her comfor},
and greater safety, had not sufficient assurances of this man’s
integrity. In her woman’s mind, too, there was a yet deeper
fear than that, for a suspicion lurked there that this unattract-
ive stranger might not be a messenger of Rufus’s appointment.

“What token do you bear for me from my brother,” she
asked, “that I am to confide in you?”

“T guess,” replied Chris Wryneck, “he thought the mes-
sage would be enough. I rarely carry any thing but words.”

“How can I feel assured,” again asked Stella, “ that you
are not practicing some deception upon me?”

“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the fellow, in a manner rude and
unrepressed. “Fust jist tell me the rason, the motive, the
drivin’ power. Ye reckon, p’haps, that I ain’t jist the mate to
trust in the woods? Wa, na, gal. I want goold—glittering,
yeller goold. ’Tis what I'm true to—’tis all that I live for.
The ring of it is music, and the look is brighter than the sun
to my eyes. Yer brother gives me goold, and that makes me
true to him and you,” and the fellow thrust bis hand into his
pocket and rattled the wages of his cupidity until his ferret
eyes gleamed with ferocious joy.  -

“ And I suppose,” said Stella, after listening to his exposition,
“that in your devotion to wealth you are capable of selling
the secret of one employer to the higher bidding of some
other ?”

“Na, na; na that ayther, missus,” replied the stranger.
“Once I get the goold I marks out the duty, and then na
goold ill buy that goold; na, na.” ;

The speaker drew from his pocket his hand filled with
guineas, and displaying them upon a table near, he, for a few
minutes, fed his eyes in silence at this golden banquet.

 

  
   

  

88 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Now jist look at ’em, missus,” continued the exulting
owner, “ain’t ’em beautiful. Whenever I reckon that the
work I’ve done for sich reward is rayther hard upon the suf-
ferers, I jist spread out the goold, and all that sort o’ falin’
laves me, and nothin’ but joy remains. Now there is twenty
pieces, and forty wouldn’t buy’ em—na, forty wouldn’t buy
twenty. <A lab’rer is worthy of his hire, missus, and nabody
can say of Chris Wryneck that he ever ‘lowed a second bid
to ride over the fust. Now, missus, if you like to lave this
city and follow me to yer brother, why there’s nothing more
to pay.”

The apparent candor with which Chris Wryneck moral-
ized over his ill-gotten treasure, and the expert habit he de-
scribed of banishing his amiable weaknesses by introducing
to his sparkling eyes the recompense of his knavery, would,
at any other period, have amused Stella; but her own safety
now fully engaged her thoughts.

“T scarcely know,” she said, “if I dare venture upon such a
perilous path with a total stranger.”

“ Well, that’s as you like,” replied Wryneck, without being
in any way disconcerted at the remark. “I guess ye’ll be na
advantage to me on a journey. We don’t agree on many p’ints
now, and I guess we should not mend matters on the road.”

Stella knew not how to-meet this display of indifference.
She was most desirous to join her brother, still she was
repugnant to placing herself under the guidance of a man in
whom she could feel no confidence. In this doubt she resolved
to try what effect an absolute refusal to depart would have on
Wryneck.

“T am secure here,” therefore said Stella, “ though far from
happy ; but, for the present at least, I decline to leave the city.”

“TI guess ye doubt me,” said Wryneck, unmoved. “Good.
If ye likes the fold, keep to’t. There am the pieces—the
goold,” he continued, pushing the guineas across the table
toward her; “take ’em, and when ye see yer brother, tell
him that Chris Wryneck wouldn’t take the goold without he
brought the gal.”

This ingenuousness dissolved the scruples of Stella. She
reproached her heart with the injustice of its judgment. She
saw the guide, whom she had so harshly doubted, cast down the

 
  

 

FATAL TRUST. 89

gold he so worshiped at her feet rather than forfeit his
integrity. Wryneck still gazed intently upon the shining
guineas on the table, as if he yet coveted what he had so
generously rejected. This was not unseen by Stella, who
exclaimed :

“Take up the gold—it is yours and you shall earn it. I
will accompany you. My suspicions are subdued—my doubts
dispersed—and I will endeavor to atone for the wrong I have
done you by a reliance upon your faith.”

Chris Wryneck clutched the guineas with a smile of satis-
faction, and Stella regretted to witness such avidity; but he
had avowed to her his weakness in the path to mammon, and
she would not in thought condemn him eyen in his greed.
There was a triumphant look in his hairy countenance and
in his ferret eyes as he plunged the jingling pieces into his
ample pocket, and then asked Stella when she would be
prepared to quit the city.

“T shall be compelled to take with me my slaves, Caesar
and Chloe,” said Stella. 5

“ve on’y bargained to deliver you,” said Wryneck, “and
the blacks must take their chance.”

Stella made no reply; but arranged that Chris Wryneck
should call the following day for directions as to their depar-
ture. On this understanding he quitted the house.

An hour later, Stella entered the secret passage and sought
the Sergeant’s wife and unfolded to her the intention to
depart. That grateful woman felt acutely the approaching
separation, and explained to‘ Stella the danger of passing
through the Jerseys; but she replied that she had a skillful
guide, whom her brother had deputed to conduct her, and
who promised her security. Chloe-was so much pleased at
the novelty of removal as to withdraw herself from what she
termed the “imperance of the Britishers,” and Cesar was
delighted at the idea of rejoining “Massa Ruf.” He had
heard, among the badinage of the soldiery, that the patriot
army was wholly without shoes and clothing, and the faithful
negr6 had consequently packed several pairs of boots, and
clothes of all descriptions, determined that “‘ Massa” should be
well supplied with articles so necessary to make him sightly
as an officer.

 

  
    

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE EXODUS.

STELLA promptly applied to the General for a pass to quit
the city, and protection through the Jerseys. It was granted
without hesitation, and the house became a scene of bustle
and preparation. Stella had dismissed her fears and was now
all hope. Chloe, devoted to her mistress, had nevertheless
tired of the inaction of New York, and the little appreciation
the “ Britishers ” seemed to entertain for the darkness of her
charms; while Cesar, though by no means vain, thought that
his clumsy proportions could not deserve all the ridicule
bestowed upon them by the red-coats. Thus, there was more
alacrity in the departure than sorrow at the change, and those
things to be conveyed were quickly in a portable condition.

But there was one sad heart amid these genial smiles—it
was that of the Sergeant’s wife. She endeavored to be cheer-
ful under the persuasion that Stella was going to greater
happiness; but she could not master her despondency. She
had removed to the home of Stella, which was now commit-
ted to her charge; but she only suffered additional pangs by
this nearer association. When all was ready, the travelers
only awaited the arrival of their guide.

“Oh, Miss Stella,’ exclaimed the Sergeant’s wife, “ this
painful hour brings back with double force the remembrance
of that fiery night when Major Archer rescued my dear infant,
and you gaye succor to an almost maniac woman and her
child. TI felt toward both the deepest gratitude. _ I feel it now,
and so does my husband. It lies in the recess of our hearts,
and can never be removed. And when cheer after cheer rises
in the air as Lord Cornwallis sends his dispatches to the
General, I shudder, and my heart grows cold lest my husban |,
in his duty, may have repaid the gratitude | of our hearts in a
manner that would be his death and mine.”

While Stella was endeavoring to comfort the poor woman, the
sound of an unusual voice at the entrance-door announced
the arrival of the guide, and he and the slaves were now

   
STELLA’S DEPARTURE. 91

heard in altercation. Chris Wryneck disapproved of the
arrangements, and had expressed himself in no very measured
terms. Cesar had saddled the impetuous Barb for his mis-
tress, but for the accommodation of himself and Chloe, and
the better conveyance of the baggage he had selected, he had
put the other horse to the wagon, and all were now in
readiness at the door.

Chris condemned this lumbering vehicle, said that niggers
were made to walk and ought to do so, and that such travelers
should carry their baggage on their backs. The slaves resented
this in language offensive to the ears of freedom, and there
might haye been some further demonstration of their joint
anger had not Stella appeared and prevailed upon the unwill-
ing Wryneck to allow matters to remain unaltered, at whick
Chloe and Cresar showed their teeth and grinned in triumph.

“Farewell, my good and faithful friend,” said Stella, turning
to the Sergeant’s wife who had attended her to the door.
May we meet in happier times. I leave you with regret, and
I shall always remember you with affection.”

While the tears yet stood in the eyes of the Sergeant’s wife,
she closely scrutinized the guide, and then said with some
severity :

“Be true to your trust, my man. Be a faithful protector
and guide to that dear lady. I have seen you here before and
may see you here again, and shall not fail to ask an account
of your charge. ‘That lady is dearer to Sergeant Scroggins
and myself than our own lives, and should you prove untrue
in your duty, there is not a soldier in the Fiftieth but will assist
in hanging you.”

A tremor was visible in the features of this hardy forester
as he heard this denunciation, but by an effort he surmounted
it and replied :

“Tis doubtful, missus, what may happen in a journey from
the Hudson to the Del’ware in these here times when the
Jerseys is full of red-coats, thieves and foragers, and when
niggers ride in wagons that can’t go byways; but I guess if
anybody can make a march o’ the kind in safety, *tis Chris
Wryneck.”

At these words the travelers moyed forwarc, and Stella
quitted a house that she did not revisit until many years had

 
   

92 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

passed away, and the liberty for which Percy and her brother
were so gallantly contending, had been won.

Barb was the most happy of the party. With Stella again
upor his back, he passed the British sentinels in proud dis-
dain, and even gave the flinty hand of the guide one or two
nips when he attempted to take the bridle and direct him to
a more even portion of the road. Wryneck, however, attrib-
uted all this to the playfulness of idleness, and seemed to bear
the quadruped no enmity on account of the assault, although
he carefully avoided repeating his attentions.

The guide was agreeable and communicative. He was
untiring in his watchfulness, taking advantage of every lofty
place from which to reconnoiter, and even mounting trees that
danger might not overtake him unprepared. Toward evening
they reached a lonely house, partly consumed and wholly
abandoned. This, the guide announced, would be their
resting-place for the night. Cesar soon made a blazing fire
upon the hearth, and Chloe quickly prepared a comfortable
repast ; while Stella learned, to her consternation, that similar
accommodations would be afforded them until they reached
their destination, as the country now abounded with forsaken

and half-burned houses, from which the inhabitants had been °

driven by the ferocity and excesses of the Germans who now
overrun the Jerseys.

The travelers proceeded in this manner several days. Stella
became accustomed to the uncouth habits of the guide, and
he was more reconciled to the blacks and the wagon, chiefly
because they had paid such attention to the commissariat, that
neither short rations nor foraging had to be resorted to in
order that nature might be supported in its vigor and robust-
ness. Passing through scenes of disaster and ruthlessness,
they arrived at one of the most beautiful spots Stella had yet
seen, and here, although the travel of that day had been short,
the guide, who would permit of no dictation on this subject,

decided to remain. There was a small, but pretty and taste-
ful dwelling, surrounded by skillfully arranged grounds, and-

Stella was delighted because it exhibited none of that appear-
ance of wanton injury and desolation which had been so
universal upon their journey. The occupants, however, had
quitted this Charming retreat under the apprehension of its

   
  

 

A PLOT. 93

insecurity, and thus it was left to be used at the pleasure of
the homeless wanderer.

Cesar and Chloe had been as indefatigable in the cwisine
department as usual. The evening meal had been partaken,
and Stella had retired early to the room assigned her. The
guide was thoughtful, and indisposed to answer questions, and
seemed anxious that all should separate as early as possible.
The room occupied by Stella looked out upon the lawn, upon
which the casement-windows opened. The moon was almost
at its full, and the heavens were unclouded. Stella sat gazing
upon the peaceful scene, when suddenly the figure of a man
advanced from the direction of the roadway to the house.

-He approached stealthily, as if he had a design in being unde-

tected, when another figure came in view, and this she
recognized to be the guide. Stella now dreaded some hostile
display, but no sooner had they discovered each other than
their hands were grasped in the utmost cordiality. They were
now too far from the window for their conversation to be.
heard, but it was evidently of a nature that excited both
surprise and pleasure, for Stella distinguished their hoarse
laughter. After a time they advanced up the lawn to her
window, and as they stood beneath the shadow of a tree, Stella
heard her guide remark :

“T guess ’tis a pace of golden news, but I want to be sure
of the truth afore I take hold on’t.”

“Well,” replied the other, “I knows as how he’s there. -
guess I see’d him, and I guess he can be took, too.”

“Where d’ye say the ould fox is slapin’?” inquired the
guide.

“ At Baskenridge,” said the other. “I should ha’ gone to the
Britishers myself, on’y I see’d ye a-comin’ wid ’em niggers and
a gal, and as I calc’lated ye’d make the best bargain, I gie’d ye
the signal.”

“Ay, ay, Tim Trayem,” replied the scout, “I guess I see’é
ye ee quick, and soon went into port.”

“And now I reckon the question is, how to make the
most on’t?” observed the stranger.

“That's it, Tim, that’s it,” said the guide;” then, again
laughing heartily, he added, “how could a ’cute old lobster
like Charley get into sich a basket?” :

x

 

  
   

94 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Never mind, Chris,” said the stranger, “he’s there, and
let us bring on the hounds. ' There’s money in’t—there’s gold
to be ’arned afore the mornin’.”
“There’s raison in yer speakin’, Tim,” said the guide.
“Take my nag, Chris,” said the stranger, “ ride over to the
red-coat camp, and offer em the takin’ of Charley at a price,
and you can guide a troop o’ horse to do’t at once.”
“TY guess [ll do’t, Tim,” said the guide, to whom the
temptation seemed irresistible ; “but ye must look well arter
the gal and the niggers while ’m away.”
“T reckon you ’tain’t much that’ll escape me,” replied the
stranger.
The dialogue ended, and the men disappeared. Soon after:
ward the clatter of a horse’s hoofs rung upon the silence of
the night.
Stella had listened in breathless astonishment to the con-
yersation of these men, and now she was first aware of the
infamy of the one to whose guidance she had been com-
mitted. _ Chris Wryneck, it was evident, was better known to
others than to herself, or he would not be thus sought as the
agent in villainy. She little doubted but that some treason
was intended toward her country—some betrayal of its interests
and its adherents. ‘“ Who was Charley?” she thought. “Of
what distinction must he be to induce the British to purchase
a knowledge of his hiding-place with gold, and to send a troop
of horse to effect his seizure?’ She determined, with no
better guidance than what she had overheard, to exert herself
to defeat the infamous plot. Baskenridge was named, and to
that place she resolved to direct her course.
Stella dressed herself for the road, and then opening the
casement, stepped out upon the lawn. She entered the stable,
saddled the willing Barb, and mounted upon his back. Then,
pursuing the opposite road to that taken by the guide, she
_gaye the rein to her impetuous courser. On she went for

many miles, when Baskenridge.was so near; but she knew it
not, nor was there a sign of life from which she could glean
information. Not until daybreak did she learn her error, and
this she endeavored to repair by the agility of Barb. She
arrived at the house she sought; she knew it by the many
chargers which stood near, and, as she saw no enemy, she still

satin

    

 

 
 

T
|
|
|

 
 

FOREWARNED. : 95

congratulated herself upon her good fortune. The door was
unguarded; she opened it; it was a large apartment, filled
with sleeping figures rolled in blankets and stretched upon the
floor. On the hearth burnt a fire which partook somewhat
of the drowsiness of the inmates. The soldiers still slumbered ;
the opening of the docr had not been sufficiently noisy to
disturb their repose. Stella, little heeding the novelty before
her, exclaimed :

“Gentlemen, awake—awake. There is danger to you all.”

“Danger !” repeated twenty voices, leaping from the woolen
envelopes, each with a pistol in his hand.

“Yes,” responded Stella. “I have ridden far to warn you
that in a few minutes you will be all prisoners.”

“ Prisoners !” they ejaculated.

“ Ay, prisoners,” repeated Stella, who found that her hearers
were still half asleep. ‘‘ There is treachery going on. Who
is Charley ?”

The fellows smiled significantly, and no one seemed desirous _.
of replying to this question, until one, apparently less drowsy
than the rest, said :

“Tt is a name by which the idle distinguish our General.
He sleeps above. We form his staff.”

“Then it is against your General that the treason is
directed,” said Stella. “Inform him without delay that in a
few minutes a troop of British will be here to capture him.” ©

The officer ran up stairs, and Stella heard him knock at
the door, and call the General, who replied rather sleepily.
The officer then cried out:

“ A messenger—a lady—a patriot lady has ridden all night
to tell you that you are in danger of the British.”

“Don’t believe it,” bluntly responded the General.

“She speaks, General, with great sincerity and earnestness,”
urged the officer. “She rushed into our sleeping-apartment
unannounced, on was near being shot in her anxiety to render
you this service.”

“Bosh!” replied the edasitiaibi General. “It is only the
impulsiveness of woman. She means well, no doubt.”

“Pardon me, General, but this lady is one who would not
have undertaken so severe a task except from urgent
circumstances.”

 
96 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“Well,” replied the commander, ‘not to be discourteous,
tell her that I am obliged to her, and that I will take imme-
diate measures for my safety.”

“But, General, let me personally beg that you will not
disregard this warning,” said the officer, “for as we have no
force here, our only resource is flight.”

“Well, dismiss this fair Mercury,” replied the General,
“and order breakfast, and when we have eaten that we will
provide against these perils.” ;

The officer descended. Stella stood pale and trembling,
and he feared that she had overheard the dialogue; but he
thanked her for her information, and assured her that the
General would rise immediately and take the necessary
precautions. Stella was about to enter more into detail, and
enforce upon him the obligation of instant retreat, when the
house shook with the heavy tramp of horses, and, as she
looked in the direction of the noise, her heart leaped in her
breast as she discerned approaching at a terrific pace the
well-known helmets of the British dragoons.

“Tt is too late—it is too late,” exclaimed Stella, in agony.
“The enemy is here!” and even as she spoke, the troopers
surrounded the house.

At the head of this party, his eyes gleaming with triumph,
as if he was the hero of the day, and that the day was glorious,
rode the guide, Chris Wryneck. As the troop wheeled
round the dwelling, he espied the form of Stella. His lordly
look immediately abated, and, in astonishment and rage, he
dashed his horse toward her and demanded :

“For what purpose are you here ?”

“For the purpose of exposing your villainy, you dastardly
and heartless scoundrel!” responded Stella. }

But the attention of both was for the next moment directed
to the commanding officer of the dragoons, who demanded, in
a voice of thunder, the surrender of the General, or he would
fire the house. The General appeared, was quickly mounted
on a horse, and Stella saw him in the midst of his enemies.

When the guide witnessed the last scene in the drama he
had so infamously promoted—the capture of the victim of his
cupidity—he rode up to Stella, and, with a malignant fire in
his eye that convinced her he was capable of any enormity
possible to humanity, he exclaimed :
THE SURPRISE. 97

 

Mount.”

“T refuse,” replied Stella, with a vehemence that astonished
him.

“Mount, I say,” he repeated; and, as he spoke, he drew
a pistol from his belt, and presented it at her; “for I’ve took
goold to deliver ye, and ef ye won’t come fairly, by the light
of heaven, [ll deliver yer dead body.”

Stella looked in the villain’s eye, and saw that he had
spoken the sentiments of his wrathful heart. There was no
one to succor; she beheld only the dragoons, who were his
friends, his coadjutors. She reseated herself on Barb. Then,
at a rate which indicated the madness of men and horses, the
troops passed onward with their prisoner. Barb leaped the
broken road with the agility of a gazelle, and won the admi-
ration of -these rough soldiers. But his sweet and beauteous
mistress sat heavily and sadly on his back, for she knew not
what might be the next excess of this base guide, who had so
suddenly assumed the bravo. A faintness soon overpowered
her. She could not maintain the rapid pace in her exhaustion.
The observant Wryneck saw by her countenance that she was
ill, and allowed her to travel more slowly, at the same time
approaching and offering his assistance.

“ Vile traitor,” exclaimed Stella, aroused to anger, “touch
me not. But tell me boii it is among America’s patriots that
you have thus betrayed.’

“Well,” replied the guide, “Tse na friend to concealment.
It’s Lee. He once attempted my life, and he’s got a notion
of hangin’ me still. Now I on’y take his liberty. See how
marcifully I return the injustice I resave.”

“ Outcast of society and most degraded of men!” exclaimed
Stella. “Is it thus you repay the defenders of your country ?
Leave me here. I will alone seek my brother. I am far
safer by myself on these wild plains than under your wicked
and abhorrent guidance.”

“ Another day’s march,” observed the guide, disregarding
the language just spoken, “and I shall ’arn the goold that I
ha’ resayed.”

“You dare not enter the American lines,” ae Stella,
“with this monstrous treason on your conscience.”

“ Oh,” replied the guide, with the impassible effrontery of
the villain, “ I howld you as-a sort of sacuraty !”

 
  

 

98 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“You are an emissary of the English,” said Stella. “My
faith in you is forfeited. I will be escorted by you no
further.” c

“Tl ’ave my goold,” was the laconic but comprehensive
response of the guide, whose eyes, nearly buried in the bush-
iness of his brows, expressed a fearful determination.

Stella saw the desperate character of the man with whom
she had to deal, and forbore to say more, as in those unquiet
times, and in her undefended position, there was no threat
that he could not execute with impunity.

Cesar and Chloe had risen early in the morning and had
prepared breakfast; but when they found that Stella, the
guide and Barb were absent, and that the three were sup-
planted by the stranger, they retreated to the foot of a tree
near her room, and gaye way to their lamentations. The
stranger exerted himself to assure them that the scout would
soon return; but the disappearance of Stella, whom he had
promised to guard, was as inexplicable to lim as to the
slaves.

While this perplexity reigned, Stella and the guide appeared
in the distance. The negroes, with cries of joy, rushed
toward their recovered mistress. The stranger was not less
nimble. He advanced toward the guide, the hideous smiles
upon whose rapacious visage indicated to his brother villain
that success had attended his midnight expedition, and soon
the sound of the precious metal told that those sons of Judas
were dividing the price of blood.

 

CHA PEER “ay.
THE TREACHERY.

THe anguisk of the sable mourners was now assuaged.
They repressed their tears, and, while Stella retired to her
apartment, Chloe repaired to the kitchen and Cesar to the
_ stable, that both the sprightly Barb. and their unhappy mis-
tress might be refreshed with food. Wryneck and- hig

=

 

  
THE GALLANT MAJOR. 99

co-partner, however, had withdrawn to some more private
place for conversation than that which had so nearly proved
fatal to their treason of the previous night.

Not until the next morning did Wryneck again present
himself. He made no reference to his absence. He soon
entered the presence of Stella, and was by her informed that
she wished to pursue the short distance that intervened
between her and the Delaware, without his assistance. Those
ferret eyes of Wryneck testified no anger—they rather
twinkled derisively—but he intimated that, as a British camp
was very near, the house might be occupied, at any moment,
by its soldiers. Stella retorted that she preferred even this
alternative to further association with him, at which Wryneck
affected great indignation, and quitted her, soon to after leave
the house.

Stella gave directions for instant departure, and the slaves
were about to take the horses from the stable, when three
horsemen, attired in the uniform of British soldiers, rode up
to the house. One was, evidently, an officer, and questioned
the negroes as to their business there; and when they had
satisfied his inquiries, he desired them to replace the horses,
and announce to their mistress the presence of Major
Malman. :

Stella, who was prepared to resume her journey, heard this
name with trepidation. It did not augur safety. There was
a significance in this prompt appearance of the Major so
quickly after the withdrawal of the infamous Wryneck that
greatly alarmed her. She endeavored to subdue her excite-
ment, and desired Chloe to introduce the visitor.

“T am astounded,” said the Major, as he entered the apart-
ment, “to find that Miss Westville is a lonely traveler through
this conquered province.”

“ Not more so than I am to meet Major Malman,” replied
Stella. “

“May I inquire your destination 2” said the Major.

“The banks of the Delaware to join my brother, and
thence to Philadelphia,” said Stella.

“The banks—ah! truly—” said the Major— that is where
we pause. We, like you, only want the means to navigate
this river to reach Philadelphia, Your friends have secured

 
   

  

100 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

all the boats, and, as we are rather defective in pontoon
resources, we are compelled to halt in our victorious march
until nature shall bridge these angry waters with her ice.”

“ Nevertheless, I shall proceed,” said Stella; “I love my
country, and only find happiness with its defenders.”

“Have you thought of our relative positions, Miss West-
ville,’ said the Major, with affected courtesy—‘I, an officer
of his Majesty, and you, a friend of the enemy, traveling
through a subjugated country ?”

“Ts it possible,” exclaimed Stella, “that you can so violate
delicacy and justice as to place obstructions to a poor sister
who seeks the protection of her brother ?”

“Tn war all is expediency,” replied the Major, coolly, “and
the better feelings of our nature are often sacrificed to this
stern obligation.”

“The war is infamous enough,” exclaimed Stella; ‘“ clothe
it not in the hideous apparel of your own artifices—”

“Miss Westville,” interposed the Major, hastily, “ you are
under excitement. I am obliged to quit you now, but will
return to-morrow. I will leave you adequate protection.
Good-morning.”

The Major withdrew, and poor Stella sunk upon a chair.
She was a prisoner! Not in the hands of the British, but in
those of the perfidious and unscrupulous Major Malman.
The thought was dreadful. In despair she passed that day
without food or nourishment—in despair she passed the night
without closing her eyes in slumber. She would have flown
to the woods, but the house was guarded, and the sentinels
were as inflexible as their officer.

The morning came, and so did. Major Malman. Stella
summoned her wonted courage that she might disguise from
him the desolation of her heart. As he entered the apart-
ment she demanded :

“To what cause am I to ascribe this detentiony”

“Permit me first to speak of other matters,” said the
Major.

“TJ will converse of nothing else,” replied Stella. “I want
to break asunder the iron bars of this prison, and I demand
to know at whose instance I am detained *”

“T come to avow my love,” said the Majur, avoiding a

 
 

  

UNMASKED. 101

reply to the question. “Pledge me that your hand is mine,
and, by the honor that rules a British soldier, you shall be
safely guided to the Delaware.”

“Can I,” asked Stella, “by pronouncing two or three
words, regain a liberty I so much covet ?”

“T ask to be assured that your hand is mine, and you shall
be free,” replied the Major.

“ And if I deny you, as I have done before ?” asked Stella.

“Then I can not interpose for your release,” said the
Major.

“That is,” said Stella, “if I accede to your wishes I am
free—if I refuse them I remain a prisoner here ?”

The Major bowed in response.

“Then hear my answer,” exclaimed Stella. “It is irreyo-
cable and absolute: I hate you! I defy you, too, and all your
malignity! I am not blind to your conduct. You have
bribed a villain with a heart black as your own to decoy me
to your power; but vengeance is never dead, and it will cry
aloud until you sink beneath its withering influence.”

The rage of the Major stood revealed in his pajlid and
distorted face and in the fiery glare of his eyes. Still he
attempted to repress it—he thought it policy—and he replied
with affected composure : $

“Why should my love be met with vituperation, and my
sincerity. by crimination? Why should reproaches be added
to rejection, as if to make the cup of bitterness more full ?
Calm this intemperance, and do not permit me to leave with
the memory of these charges ringing in my ears.”

“JT will not recall a syllable that I have spoken,” said
Stella; “I feel them all. They are the sentiments of my
heart.”

The contempt with which she regarded the officer, made
him feel how thoroughly he was despised. Seeing that he
was reduced to desperation, he emerged from the disguise he
had maintained, and said, jeeringly :

_ “Upon my word, fair rebel, you speak boldly for one so
wholly in my power, and I wal a8 plainly reply that I can
not de such violence to my heart as to deny to it that indul-
gence in its love which you extend to yours in its hatred.” ;
He advanced toward his prisoner. She arose from the seat

 

 

  
   

102 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

trembling in every limb. He seized her powerless form,
when, overcome with fright, she could only utter a scream.
It was not in vain. Cesar and Chloe were in the adjoining
room. They knew the voice, and that their mistress was in
danger. They dashed wide the door and rushed into the
presence of Stella. Chloe, grasping a dagger, sprung to the
side of her mistress, holding the weapon menacingly before
the Major. Czesar, however, saw less danger in the Major’s
back, and, clutching tightly the silken sash which graced his
waist, the negro twisted it with all his might until both the
officer and Czesar sunk upon the floor. The slave was up in
an instant, and stood half-way between his prostrate victim
and the door. The Major, exasperated both at the indignity
and the intrusion, scarcely knew how to be reyenged on two
such menials.

“Imps of hell!’ he exclaimed, rising from the floor, “ what
mean you by this insolence ?”

“We die for Miss Stel,” said Chloe.

“ Quit the room instantly,” repeated the Major, in a voice
of thunder, and placing his hand upon his sword.

“Chloe and Cesar, remain,” interposed Stella, defiantly.
“Chloe, give me that dagger; I will now defend myself and
you.” ;

Chloe, obedient in every thing, gave the weapon to her
mistress. The Major stood for a moment, gazing upon his
angry foes, then casting upon them a sneer, he exclaimed :

“Tam not prepared to encounter such intrepid Amazons ;
but if, upon my next appearance, I find my authority thus
defied, I will contrive some means of quelling this fierce spirit,
both in mistress and servants.” ;

The Major left the room. Cesar indulged im a little piece
of pantomime at his departure, while Chloe, astonished at her
own daring, now the scene was ended, stood sobbing beside
her mistress. z :

Stella felt the painfulness of her position. That the Major
would not fail to repeat his insults, she well knew. Escape
was impossible without the complicity of the sentinels, and
there was but little hope of enlisting them in her interest;
still it was her only resource, and she determined to appeal
to them. She therefore dismissed both the negroes, and,

   

¥

 

eS
     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
   
    

STELLA AND THE SENTINEL. 103

after spending some tlme in recovering the serenity of her

feelings, despite the cold, walked out upon the lawn. She

soon encountered one of the sentinels, and asked him to what
regiment he was attached.

“The Fiftieth, madam,” replied the sentinel.

“The Fiftieth,’ exclaimed Stella, in surprise; “then you
know Sergeant Scroggins ?”

“Yes, madam,” the soldier replied, “we are in the same
regiment.”

“T know the Sergeant well,” said Stella; “I am confined
* here for an insufficient cause, and I know if my name could

4 reach his ear he would effect my liberation. Can you assist

me ?”
“In a few hours I may be relieved, and then I will teil ‘i
him you are here,” said the sentinel.

| “Oh, thank you,” exclaimed Stella, “I never can suffi-

4 , ciently repay you; but, dare you permit my slave to pass to
the camp on this message to the Sergeant ?”

: “T dare not,” replied the sentinel ; “it would be a breach of

duty and punishable. I can do no more than I have
promised.” ’

“T will tell you my name, for that will insure the worthy
Sergeant’s services,” said Stella.

“T know you, madam,” replied the sentinel, smiling. “TI
knew your horse directly I entered the stable. We first met
at Gravesend. Iwas one of the Sergeant’s men whom you
contrived to get so prettily disarmed.”

{ At this moment his comrade was seen approaching, and the
man resumed his sedate look and walked on, while Stella,
lighter in the heart that she had found even this chary friend,
retired more happily to her room.

t%

to alin lle

  
    

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY,

CHAPTER XVI.
THE MIDNIGHT ALARM.

Wuttz Stella was attempting to engross the merciful con-
sideration of the sentinel, the relieved guard had reached the
camp and was relating to the Sergeant the rather novel duty
upon which he had been occupied. The Sergeant, a strict
disciplinarian in military matters, regretted that a field officer
should allow himself to be made the subject of jocularity
among the soldiery. He, therefore, instead of returning the
smiles of his informant, reproved him for the flippancy of his
language; then dismissing him, he proceeded to the Major’s
quarters.

Major Milman had not returned from mess, Claude, how-
ever, was there, and to him he repeated what he had heard,
and described the manner in which the villa that contained
the charmer was guarded. When the Sergeant had concluded
his narrative he was astounced at the fearful working of
Claude’s countenance. He muttered expressions of hatred and
revenge, and accompanied his passion by detaching a dagger
from the girdle of his tunic and dashing his fist upon the table
at which the conference was held. The Sergeant, veteran
warrior as he was, was alarmed at the uncontrollable passion
exhibited by this favorite boy.

“Why, Claude, my little friend,” said the Sergeant, “ what
means this terrible rage? I. know you love the Fiftieth. I
know you love the Major. I—”

“What mean you, sirrah, what mean you? TJ love the
Major ! exclaimed Claude, in all the fury of madness; then
pausing @ moment and looking into the astonished face of the
Sergeant, he added, in comparative calmness, “ Worthy Scrog-
gins, your pardon. I have sadly forgotten myself.”

“But, what ails you, Ctaude—what ails you, poor boy ?”

exclaimed the still wondering Sergeant. ‘Are you ill that .

you look thus savage? Is it pain that afflicts you? Surely,”
continued the suspicious Sergeant, “you do not love this
maiden who has won the Major’s heart ?”

   
~~

A CALL TO ARMS. 105
4 t

“The Major's heart! The Major's heart!” vociferated the
boy; “I will tear that heart from the breast where nature
placed it that dares to presume upon such conquest. I will
quickly deface the dainty beauty that has been guilty of this
crime. Better-that this maiden had not been born than to
aspire to such a love.”

. “Let us speak no more on the subject, Claude, to-night,”
said the Sergeant.

“T am not well, Scroggins,” said Claude; “my brain is on
fire. Let me, however, see you in the morning, that we may
resume this matter when I am more calm.”

The Sergeant left, and the boy now sat alone. His brows
were knitted, his visage dark with anger, and his beauty still
disguised in rage. He arose and retired to his apartment,
not even deigning to await, as was his wont, the return of the
perfidious Major from the mess.

That night, when the revel of the officers had ended, and
they had retired unsteadily to their couches, and the sentinels
paced their lonely rounds with an idle watchfulness that be-
tokened a confidence in security, the sharp pealings of the
drum broke upon the silent air, sounding to arms, while the
deep braying of the trumpet called the cavalry to horse. Up
rose the mighty host as if from the grave, and in an instant
the clang of arms, and the hoarse voices of the startled war-
riors reverberated through the camp. A messenger, his horse
white with foam, and himself breathless with haste, had ar-
rived to proclaim that the American rebels, said by the Brit-
ish to possess only qualities of flight, had recrossed the
Delaware, defeated the terrible Germans, and were advancing
upon the main enemy under Howe.

With the first beat of the drum the boy Claude rushed to
warn his slumbering master of the peril and of the call. The
Major was incredulous.

“Tt is true, Major,” said the Sergeant, who had that instant
airived. “TI have spoken with the messenger, and he assures

. me that Colonel Rahl is killed, the Hessians defeated, and

Trenton taken.”
“ By whom?” asked the astonished Major.
“ By General Washington in person.”
The Major said no more, but the rapidity with which he

 
   

 

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

completed his toilet proved that he fully estimd€ed the lion
nature of the antagonist. Ie went forth, but soon returned.

“ Claude,” he said, as he placed his hand familiarly upon
the shoulder of the boy, “we are ordered forward. A guard
will remain, and you will abide here until I ascertain whether
we shall return or not.”

Tears appeared in the eyes of the fond boy. He forgot
the sorrow of yesterday in the anxiety of the present, al-
though he had registered a fearful oath which made him less
desirous to accompany the Major.

“Should you be wounded?” said Claude, who dared not
refer to the possibility of a calamity more fatal.

“Then I yield myself to you, at precious boy,” responded
the Major, quickly.

Claude blushed deeply ¢#t the ormplenent and, under the
plea of collecting a few light things for the Major’s comfort,
withdrew. Before the morning's. sun had lighted up the
camp, the Major was upon the march, and Claude, his head
between those spotless hands, sat in anger and despondency.

CHAPTER XVII.
STELLA’S YOUNG VISITOR.

Tue night of clamor at the camp was passed in tranquillity
at the villa. Even Stella slumbered in hope, and the visions
of the pillow were peaceful ones. She arose refreshed; the
anguish of her heart seemed lessened. She had breakfasted,
and was sitting in meditation in her room, when the door was
opened gently, A. fair boy entered; his face was finely
formed, his forehead lofty ; his lips were firmly closed, giving
to the whole form a determined air.

“T fear I come to increase the pains of your captivity,”
said the boy. “The valiant soldier, Major Malman, is sud-
denly summoned to the field, and can not pay to you his
customary devoirs.” :
“What!” exclaimed Stella, in astonishment, “are ‘he

 

     

   
  

 

CLAUDE AT THE VILLA. 107

Americans acting on the offensive? Is General Washington
again on this side the Delaware ?”

The boy bent upon her a look of indignation, assuming
that Stella displayed all this excitement and apprehension for
the Major.

“T fear,” he said, “that I have approached the subject too
incautiously. That I have alarmed your affections. too
abruptly.”

“By no means,” replied Stella; “I am rejoiced to find
that the apathy of my country is awakened. That the voice
of that great spirit which controls her destiny, and which has
so long in vain implored for aid, is now heard. Oh! how I
have prayed, as I passed the hundreds of burning homesteads
on my way hither, that the poor, outraged inmates might feel
that their security was not in flight but in revenge.”

“Did you forget the Major at the moment of your prayer ?”
asked the boy, ironically.

“Tn this great national scourge,” said Stella, “I thought
only of my country.”

~ “You would not wish the destruction of the Major ?” urged
the boy.

“I wish for victory to my people and my land,” replied
Stella; “and such a erat good can only be purchased by the
destruction of the foe.” :

“Would you then grant no mercy to an enemy ?” asked
the boy.

“Not if his slaughter was necessary to my country’s free-
dom,” responded Stella, boldly.

- Have you so little mercy for a rival ?” continued the boy.

“Why, he comes to annihilate us—to command us to his
iron and oppressive will—and, as he has ordained that our
existence shall depend on his destruction, then let him perish,
that we, our country, and our liberties be secured.”

“T suppose you would make one exception in this general
carnage—the gallant Major ?” again observed the boy.

“TI know not why you thus impertinently name to me a
man whom I abhor,” said Stella, with indignation.

“ Are you offended, fair lady,” continued the boy, “that he
has left for the field "without sighing a last adieu upon that
lily shoulder ?”

 

  
   

108 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“T can not permit this language,” said Stella. “ Why are
you not with your companions in the field, where eyen your
boyish help might be of use ?”

“T remained to visit you,” said the impertinent boy.

“To visit me !” exclaimed Stella, in amazement.

“ Ay, lady,” said the boy, “to execute a slight mission of
which I will at once deliver myself.”

It was the youthful Claude. He advanced close to Stella.
There was a fiery steadfastness in his glare. The playful
acrimony displayed in his conversation had passed away, and
the contortions of his face indicated some wicked purpose.
Stella receded in alarm.

“The Major,” said the boy, with great passion, “ has cast
himself at your feet; he has thought that your loveliness—
which to me is not so visible—is of a description to warrant
his admiration. It is a fatal victory to you, for the charms
which have thus triumphed must be rendered to the grave.
I am the herald of one who permits no rivalry in loye. Are
you prepared to die ?” 4

“To die !” repeated the thoroughly affrighted woman.

“To die!” responded the boy.. “ You are beloved by one
whose tenderness is death, and J am the executioner.”

The alarm of Stella became intense. The visitor was
unknown to her. His look was indicative of violence, and
his menaces confirmed her fears that she was in the power of
amaniac. The sound of firearms was now distinctly heard
in the distance, to which both listened with interest and
attention ; but nothing could divert this assailant from his
purpose.

“Listen!” he exclaimed; “your requiem is being chanted
by both friend and foe—and while the battle rages in yonder
heights we will hasten this minor scene in the day’s tragedy.”

Stella screamed at this repeated threat. She called on
Ceesar, Chloe and the sentinels, but all were deaf to her sup-
plications. The continued booming of guns had disturbed
the fidelity of the slaves and the vigilance of the sentinels—
all had fled. She was without succor against the frantic pur-
poses of her enemy. She saw him reach a glass and fill it
with a liquid taken from a bottle in’ his breast.

“Tady,” he then said, “in this glass is a decoction of-rare

 
HEMLOCK. 109

properties. It allays the flame of love, and is effective alike
on rebel and royalist. Sip the magic drink, fair lady, and
tell me truly if you appreciate it.”

“What does it contain?” gasped Stella, almost overcome
with terror,

“Tt contains the germ of happiness,” replied the boy.

“J will not taste it !” exclaimed Stella, in agony.

“You must !” firmly added the boy, as he held the Chalind
to her lips.

“ What does the glass contain ?” again implored Stella.

“Hemlock !” fearlessly exclaimed the boy.

“Tt is poison !” said Stella, :

“A mere remedy against life. A classic beverage of the
rare old Greeks,” said the boy.

Stella was horrified.

“J will’not drink it!’ she exclaimed, as he again pressed
the glass to her lips. -

“ Folly,” said the boy; “how often should I, in hours of
terrible See have welcomed with gratitude such
benevolence as I now proffer you, that I might have glided, by
an agency not my own, to realms of peacefulness.”

She caught at the confession, and, with a hope’ of diverting
a purpose, said :

“Ah, indeed! are you, like me, a child of sorrow? Put
aside, for a time, this painful remedy, and relate to me why
you have preferred death to life ?”

The nearer approach of the din of battle arrested reply.
Voices could be distinguished. It was evident that one party
was victorious and followed the beaten foe. The excitement
without, however, rather infuriated than alarmed the boy.
He cast the glass upon the floor, and, drawing a dagger from
his girdle, exclaimed :

“The cup is distasteful to your dainty lips—I must apply
my remedy direct to the heart.”

At this moment a voice which partook of the ferocity of
the battle, and was so near that it thundered through the
house, exclaimed :

“Brayo, boys! Give them another volley—give them
another volley—steady—together—fire !”

A terrible volley of musketry ensued ; groans filled the air;

 
   

  

THE DAUGHLER OF LIBERTY.

those who had strength uttered shrieks that were heard above
the echo of the arms. Stella recognized the voice that had
spoken the words of command. Even the ruthless boy had
paused; but it was only for a moment. He rushed upon
Stella, seized her extended arm, and raised his dagger; but
the terror-stricken girl, with an agonizing scream, leaped upon
the boy, bore him to the earth like a bolt, and fell to the
floor in a swoon.

GC. EAP 71, Rag Vek bs
THE PASSAGE OF THE DELAWARE.

Tue remoyal of Stella from her unpleasant situation in
New York occupied the anxious thoughts of -both Percy and
Rufus; but, as the American army retreated from Harlem
Heights to White Plains, the hope of effecting this became
more distant. Many little affairs had occurred with the
British troops that enabled Percy to distinguish himself; but
the patriot force was too small to permit a general engage-
ment; and when the Americans crossed the Hudson to inter-
cept the British in their designs on Philadelphia, General
Washington was accompanied by little more than two
thousand men.

The British, intent upon disturbing Congress in its halls,
followed this little army through the Jerseys to the banks of
the Delaware, where Cornwallis, unable to cross the swollen
stream, encamped until the troops could pass on the ice and
pursue their unobstructed course to Philadelphia. That hero
was somewhat impatient for the laurels of a brilliant conquest,
since he was about to proceed to England, and he most fondly
desired that the reputation of his achievements might arrive
with him.

But there was a man, indomitable and great, who yielded
not the palm to the British hero. He had fled through the
Jerseys, but his retreat had been slow and orderly, and, by
his consummate prudence and generalship, he had made the
spreading Delaware the limit of the British pursuit. Not
only this, but his busy mind was soon .occupied with the

 
 

   

A NIGHT ON THE DELAWARE. 111

bold project of striking a blow in the offensive. With an
army in the uniform of beggary, with a meager commissariat
and empty exchequer, in the month of bleak December, this
great man resolyed upon a course which removed the wreath
from the brow of the proud Cornwallis and his coadjutor,
Lord Howe, and placed it on his own.

One night in December, when these events were in arrange-
ment, Percy was standing unattended on the banks of the
Delaware, at a point of the river nearly opposite Trenton.
His attention was frequently directed toward the river, as if
he anticipated something from that direction, when suddenly
he perceived, just distinguishable from the mist, out of whose
very thinness it seemed to be born, the mysterious and appall-
ing form of his old spectral guide.

“How invisibly you come and go,” exclaimed Percy, as he
beheld the visitor approaching, ‘impenetrable apparition.
You almost make me doubt my competency to sustain a
watch.”

“You are not the less good and observant sentinel because
I walk noiselessly,” said the specter; ‘ but you watch in vain.
The spy you have employed dares not approach the nest of
the German.”

“ Prophetic visitor,” said Percy, “I do not disown to you
my business here, nor deny that it pains.me much to hear
that my messenger has failed me.”

“ Adopt my strictures instead of those of the hireling knave
who has deceived you,” replied the specter. Then, turning
toward Trenton, as if he could look into a camp unattainable
to ordinary vision, he continued: “ There lies Rahl with his
Hessians. Your General seeks to attack him in his slumbers.
It is a bold effort, worthy of success. The Hessian chief
is confident to rashness. He might have made his lair a
fortress—now it is little better than a plain. Enter his weak
fold, strike his sanguinary sheep, and scatter them before this
careiess shepherd’s eye. Be cool—be quick—be bold, and the
State will soon be cleared of the despoiler.- As you advance
to greater victories and sweep the plain, a jewel of price lies
in your way. Secure it—it will recompense your bravery.”

“What mean you by this last allusion?” exclaimed Percy,
breathlessly ;- but even while he spoke the specter had

  
    

    

THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

disappeared, and while he stood by the river’s margin and
invoked the invisible to answer, he felt a gentle touch upon
the elbow. Turning round in hope, which was soon changed
to astonishment, a voice remarked : ;

“Major Archer, this is scarcely maintaining the silence
needful in movements such as ours.”

It was General Washington, who, impatient at delay, had
ridden many miles in a dark and stormy night to learn intelli-
gence indispensable to his enterprise. Nothing could equal
the confusion of Percy when he perceived the person of the
General; but, he thought that he could not better extricate
himself from the suspicion of inattention to his duties than by
candidly avowing all that had occurred.

The General listened to the recital. He was aware of the
creative faculty of the mind when laboring under such deep
anxieties as was common to eyery soldier of the army, espe-
cially when influenced by that profound solicitude to which
Percy had been so long subjected. He therefore intimated
that it was now useless to hope for their messenger, and
invited Percy to accompany him back to the camp. As they
rode on he endeavored, by discussing the great enterprise in
abeyance, to banish what he denominated an illusion from
Percy’s thoughts.

When Percy, however, had reached the camp, and retired
to his poor quarters, he pondered far more on the words
of the specter than on those of Washington; and although he
thought that the allusion was to Stella, he could not believe
that she had ventured into a country so much the enemy’s as
Jersey. Agitated by these fears all night, he was unrefreshed
in the morning, but hastened to his duties at an early hour.

The division of General Lee—who, in his tardy and unwill-
ing march from the Hudson to the Delaware, had allowed
himself to be captured by one night inconsiderately establish-
ing his quarters three miles from his army—had now joined
General Washington, ané he determined to punish the Hessians
for some of the enormities of which they had been guilty.

On the night of Christmas day, when the British legions
were in festival, when they sat quafling their rosy wine and
eating the fatness of the conquered province, in their celebra-
tion of the anniversary of the great Christian epoch, the
 

  

ROUT OF THE NESSIANS, 118

sparkling flames ascending merrily from the wood fires*upon
the hearth, General Washington, with his shivering and half-
clad army, was crossing the Delaware, with the intention,
under cover of the darkness, to look in upon his revel. The
embarkation commenced at nine at Taylorsville, about ten
miles above Trenton; but the difficulties were so great, and
the facilities so meager, that it was morning before the whole
force, with its few guns, were transported to the Jersey side.
Percy was indefatigable in his efforts to promote the haste so
essential to success. He thought of his country, and of Stella,
too, and both his zeal and strength were centered in their
cause; but the fierce wind, the strong current, and the im-
mense masses of floating ice, were frightful impediments, and,
in defiance of every exertion, the morning sun appeared with
the last boat, and disclosed to the exhausted men a wretched
force for such an enterprise. But the Commander-in-Chief
- was unflinching. The order passed was, “forward!” Percy
endeavored to inspire his men with the same gallant feelings
with which this word cheered him. During the night snow had
fallen, which now deeply carpeted the earth, and by its mossy
softness, compensated in some measure for ‘the absence of
darkness, allowing the army to approach Trenton noiselessly
- and unobserved. When Percy’s column reached the city, it
was as quiet as if it was in ambush. He was ordered to the
advance. He seized the astonished sentinels—the city was
entered ; but the alarm soon spread. The cry, “Der feind!
der feind! heraus! heraus!” (the enemy, the enemy—turn
out, turn out!) was passed from house to house. The defense,
however, was weak and dispirited—the surprise complete.
Colonel Rahl, the commander, was fatally wounded, and
yielded. . Those Germans, whose rapacity had filled J ersey
with terror, were defeated. Upward of one thousand prison-
ers remained within the patriots’ hands. The joy of tne
conquerors could not he exceeded. Tears of gratefulness and
delight ran down their cheeks, and they embraced each other
in the streets. They soon refreshed their famished bodies
from the abundant commissariat of the vanquished, and many
replaced their rags and soleless shoes from the well-stored
magazines which they had taken. Percy, in common with
his brother officers, contemplated the extent of the triumph

 

  
   

   

114 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

with delight, and General Washington smiled benignantly at
the fraternal excesses of the men.

The intelligence went forth, incredible alike to loyalists and
patriots—tory and rebel. Cornwallis abandoned his thoughts
of home, and hastened to the captured city. He found it
unoccupied, the bridge destroyed across the Assinipink, and
the army of independence gone in search of other conquests.
The timid legions had now turned upon the foe—the lambs
had suddenly become wolves, and were soon the hunters in
the chase, and swept the Jerseys of the vaunting foe almost
from the Delaware to the Hudson.

As the patriots advanced, Percy was ordered to attack a
British post. Instead of finding the enemy in camp, he found
him in the field, ready for battle. Undismayed at this dem-
onstration, he led his men to the encounter. The fight was
fierce and obstinate. The British, accustomed to victory,
seemed to insist upon it now; but the Americans, having so
recently tasted of its sweets, were equally determined on tri-
umph. At length the leader of the British fell ; the enemy
receded, but retained his order. This occurred near a taste-
ful little dwelling, and Percy, to prevent its occupation by
the enemy, burst open the door and entered. Strife was
already there. The room to which he penetrated was occu-
pied by two persons—the one a boy, just rising from the floor
with a naked dagger in his hand, while near by was the body
of a ‘prostrate lady. Percy advanced, clutched the boy’s
hand; but observing that the weapon was not stained with
blood, attempted to raise the fallen lady. She was powerless
and unconscious. One glance at her pallid face, and Stella
was clasped to the bosom of her lover.

The emergency of the moment was great. Percy dared not
remain, even to cherish his idol. He resolved, however, to be
only a moment absent, and rushed from the apartment, still
retaining the perfidious boy within his strong grasp. The
dagger was unremoved from his hand. The stubborn British
were induced to make a stand, and soon Percy saw the cause.
Just rising from a distant hill was visible the grim helmets of
a troop of English horse, advancing at their utmost speed to
the rescue of their friends. Percy saw the danger, and in an.
instant ordered his men to take possession of the house, and
 

  

THE WOUNDED MAJOR. 115

all the outbuildings. Thus fortified, he questioned whether
the British would venture upon an assault. - He was correct.
The cavalry and infantry officers met, a short consultation
occurred, and then they slowly retired in the direction of their
encampment.

Percy was unequal to further combat, and, with his men
safely housed, he sought the room where he had left Stella.
What was his astonishment when he beheld a wounded officer
placed upon a couch, and by his side a subaltern administer-
ing to his wants. “A shriek, so piercing that it entered the
heart of Percy, was uttered by the boy. The dagger fell from
his grasp as he struggled for liberty. “ Percy, in pity, gave him
freedom, when he rushed to the side of the wounded soldier,
crying, as he placed his hand in the broad palm of the attend-
ant veteran : ’

“Oh, Scroggins, how I esteem you for this faithfulness to
your officer.”

“What !” exclaimed the soldier addressed, in surprise, “ are
you here, Claude ?”

Percy bent over Stella. The noise and the air from the
opened door had aroused her from the stupor, and she now
unclosed her eyes. The terrors which had surrounded her
were gone, and then recognizing Percy, she gave him her
hand, only to relapse again into a swoon. :

CA.A PAGER x1 Xx.
THE DEATH-BED.

Wuen Percy ordered his men to take refuge in the house,
they immediately occupied every room and eyery outbuilding
—a maneuver which led to the disclosure of the hiding-—
places of Caesar and Chloe. The former, unlike the valiant
type from whom he inherited a name, was nearly crushed to
death when a dozen gaunt and weary soldiers threw them-
selves upon a pile of straw in the stable which they had
entered, and from which they soon heard the most piteous »

 

  
   

116 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

moans and groans. Another detachment were equally fortu-
nate in discovering in an attic the sable form of Chloe, who,
at the first sound of arms, had hidden herself, not doubting
but that “Miss Stel” would find some equally eligible place
of security.

The wounded man now spread upon the bed was Major
Malman. On one side stood the faithful Scroggins, on the
other the deyoted Claude—both deeply affected. Claude held
the Major’s hand, wetted it with his tears, covered it with kisses,
and pressed it to his heart. The Major, grateful that these
familiar and dear faces were at his pillow in this awful need,
was nevertheless taking a retrospect of a life of which so short
a space was in prospective. Late, indeed, for such a vital
disquisition; but it is too common for poor humanity to neg-
lect the grander duties of life until the pangs of death are at
his heart. ‘

“Claude,” he said, “poor boy, I know you love me truly.
You must be the executor of my will. Suspended from my
neck, and resting on my heart, will be found the portrait of
alady. This must be my companion in the grave. Among
my effects you will find a miniature of myself—be you the
bearer of it to England, and to her fair hands. Tell her that
the last throb of my heart was for her, and that the last word
I uttered was that of Helen.”

The agitation of the boy increased. His bosom heaved,
and many ejaculations of agony escaped him. Then he
bowed his head toward the dying Major, and said:

“Wish you to see this Helen ?”

“What mean you, boy ?” asked the Major, with. an energy
that seemed to have expired.

“She is here,” exclaimed Claude, “beneath this roof, and
only awaits to be assured that her presence will calm your
sufferings to tell you that her heart was ever yours.”

“You rave, poor boy,” said the Major, “and only distress
me in your hope to lessen my anguish.”

“Oh, I do not rave,” said Claude. “ How dare I trifle with
your feelings at this appalling hour? Permit me Lut to intimate
that you will receive her gladly, and she will be in an instant
by your side.”

“Is such beneficence possible ?” exclaimed the Major. “Go,

   
 

    

A TRANSFORMATION, 117

Claude, I have confidence in you, boy. And if such a mercy
can be granted, death will be deprived of more than half its
bitterness.” :

Claude quitted the room. The Sergeant, a silent spectator
of this exciting scene, who still stood by the Majov’s side, his
own wounds roughly bandaged by himself, shook his head
incredulously as the boy closed the door of the apartment ; but
what was his astonishment when, a few minutes after, a gentle
and timid knock was heard, and there entered a lady of great
beauty, clad in mourning. .

“ Helen,” cried the Major, as he recognized the visitor.

“ Lennox,” was the response, and the lady threw herself
upon her knees beside the couch. The worthy Sergeant,
impressed with a reverence for an hour so peculiarly their own,
withdrew from the room, and went in search of Claude, the
only associate now whose feelings could assimilate with his
own.

Percy had removed Stella to another room before she was
aware of the wounded Major having been conveyed to the
house. He sent the recovered Chloe to her assistance while
he attended to the disposition of his men; but when he found
that all thought of acting on the offensive was abandoned by
the British, he rejoined Stella, whose gratitude was unbounded.
And as they sat side by side in the blissfulness of this reunion
—the hour of victory to both—Stella recounted to Percy the
artifice by which she had been enticed from New York to
the dangers from which he had delivered her.

At this juncture there came. a summons at the door, and
the worthy Sergeant entered. Percy and Stella were aston-
ished. The former recognized his captor, and Stella her good
old friend; but the Sergeant was unlike the soldier of other
days—the Fiftieth had been defeated and the Major lay at the
point of death. His heart was almost broken, but he did not
forget the services he had received from this worthy pair. He
approached with his right hand on his breast, and was about
to speak ; but Percy caught his hand and said:

“Not a word of thankfulness. We can appreciate you with-
out words, and you are in no state to utter them.”

“Your generous natures are capable of such things,” said”
the worthy Sergeant; “but, in another room, my Major is

  
   

118 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

dying. He desires to see you, Major Archer and Miss West-
ville, and I know you will not deny him this late wish in
life.”

“We will follow you to Major Malman’s room,” replied
Stella.

They were soon at the dying man’s side. The hue of death
was upon his visage. His head was pillowed upon the
delicate arms of a young woman of manifest beauty, who,
with her other hand, occasionally bathed his parched lips.
When Stella was sufficiently near to hear his words, he said:

“ Like too many criminals, Miss Westville, I have withheld my
repentance until after condemnation ; but, my penitence is not
the less sincere because it is late. I have done you great
wrong. I employed Wryneck, the man by whom you were
guided hither, to entice you from New York, and for a recom-
pense in gold, to place you in my power. Can you pardon
this and the succeeding outrages ?”

Stella stooped and pressed the Major’s clammy hand, and
said, with more than mortal sweetness :

‘ ‘As I hope to be judged in a Christian spirit of mercy, so
do I judge you. oben the bottom of my heart I freely pardon
every deed and word.’

The Major smiled in gratefulness, and gave a triunphant
look at the lady seated by him.

“Generous lady,” said this stranger, “those noble senti-
ments encourage me to implore forgiveness. for the violence
committed by me.”

. “You are petitioning an uninjured person,’ remarked
Stella.

“No, lady,” said the fair stranger. “You can not have for-
gotten the assassin Claude, the willful boy who attempted your
life so recently.”

Stella shuddered at the recollection.

“JT can not forget an assault so unprovoked,” said Stella.
“TJ was preserved from death by a miracle. Major Archer
has in vain sought that misguided boy throughout the house
and buildings ; but his hiding-place is not yet detected.”

_ “TZ am that boy, that Claude,” said the steamiger; “who, in
a moment of jealous fury, sought your life.”

“You he who assailed me with poison and the dagger ?”

exclaimed Stella.

   
PENITENCE. 119

“T am the disguised Claude,” continued the stranger, “ who,
in the capacity of servant, followed Major Malman from Eng-
land. Of my real character he had remained ignorant until
within the hour, when witnessing his distress at my absence,
I avowed my name, and am now permitted the retraa of
soothing his last hours.”

Major Malman looked intently and ieidostenty on Stella.
She plainly saw how deeply-his happiness was concerned in
her reply. She did not disappoint him :

“Name not the circumstance again,” said Stella; the secret
is confined to few breasts. Let the boy escape, as it is thought
he has, to die in oblivion; and if, bereft of one to whom your
heart is.so pledged, you may be destitute of a friend and
an asylum.in this stranger land, you shall find both in the
heart and residence of Stella Westville.”

All were profoundly affected at this ingenuous conduct of
the noble American woman. Percy kissed her hand. Tears
showered from the eyes of Helen, and the Major was so over-
powered that for a time he could not speak. When he did
so, he exclaimed :

“How much is the pang of death softened by such
virtues !”

He now beckoned Percy, and with a voice scarcely distinct,
said :

“Major Archer, noble foe, I trust to your care and kind-
ness this portion of my heart;” and he pointed to Helen.
“She is a stranger and alone; but you and Miss Westville
have hearts ample enough to entertain and protect even a .
national foe.”

“ Yes, Major Malman, we will be her friends through life.”
He pressed Percy’s hand with the little strength he had ;
he pressed Helen to his heart; unable to speak, he pointed to.
Stella and the Major as her protectors; then, with no more

effort, no more agony than a sigh, he quitted-earth forever.

Major Malman was interred with military honors; and not-
withstanding the regret with which Helen left the spot, both
ladies were on their way to Philadelphia the followirg morn-
ing. They pursued their journey by easy distances, and the
indefatigable efforts Stella made to restore the happiness of
her new friend so endeared her to Helen’s heart, that she

 
   

  

120 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

became indispensable to the mourner’s happiness. Under this
kind guidance she soon regained some of her wonted cheerful-
ness. They reached Philadelphia, and became comfortably estab-
lished. Helen became a wild worshiper of her friend and
counselor, and soon learned that, in such worship, her nobler
nature found a worthy shrine.

OF A Popa i kk
A FURLOUGH AND ITS CONSEQUENCES.

Rurvs, though not less gallantly employed in the great
work of reconquest, was so far separated from Percy that he
only heard of the late occurrences by letter; but they excited
considerable interest in his mind, and when he and Percy
again met on the plains of victory to congratulate each other
on their success, Rufus insisted upon a minute recital of all
those incidents consequent on Percy’s overthrow of their
original aggressors, “the Fiftieth.” This was willingly done,
and Rufus became a thoughtful listener to the romance of
Helen’s remarkable devotion to the unworthy officer. Percy also
informed him that he had extracted a promise from Stella that
if he obtained a short leave of absence to visit Philadelphia,
he should be superlatively recompensed. Rufus could but
determine to be his companion, and his resolution was
confirmed when, on the following day, he received a letter
from his sister describing the nature of the reward—her hand
—and begging him to make the gift. more sacred by his
presence.

The heart of Percy was so intoxicated with the glories of
the American arms, and with the thoughts of his coming
happiness, that he sought the most retired spots in order to be
alone with the divine sweetness of his thoughts. The evening
before his departure he had been induced, by the loveliness of
the night, to remain abroad until after midnight. Passing
through a wood on his way homeward, he discerned his
mystic guardian at his side!

 
HELEN’S LETTER. 121

Let not the warriors duties be forgotten in the bride-
groom’s joys,” said the presence, sternly. ‘‘ The foundations
of the fabric in construction must be defended until its super-
structure be completed. Achieved in patriotism, and preserved
in integrity, let this land be a gigantic guide and teacher to
the world.”

Percy was amazed at the reappearance of this perplexing
shadow. He listened to its. admonition with but little pleas-
ure; but when it foretold the glory of his country, the fire of
patriotism consumed all other thoughts, and he would have
replied, but the specter had disappeared. Percy hastened to
the camp, wondering if indeed, as Washington had declared,
it was all an illusion, this supernatural guest.

The friends reached Philadelphia, where Percy and Stella
were united. Rufus, delighted with the character of Helen,
became quite enamored of her loveliness. He rendered her
eyery graceful attention, yet preserved a studied reserve,
respecting, as he deeply did, her gentle sorrow for her dead
lover. When the time arrived that rendered it necessary for
himself and Percy to rejoin their regiment, never did they
buckle on their swords with more reluctance.

Many months passed away in the services of the field.
Rufus had gained his majority, and Percy his full command
of the regiment. Helen, though repeatedly solicited by her
friends to return to England, would not quit her beloved
Stella; nor would Stella willingly spare her, so deeply was
she attached to the English girl.

“Tt takes a long service to wash the crime from this right
hand, which was once raised against your life. I can not
leave you, Stella,’ would Helen sometimes remark.

“Tf that be the only sentiment that retains you, dear Helen,”
Stella would reply, “I will never relieve you from the
obligation.”

One day arrived two military pia One was for Stella,
from Percy, and the other was addressed to Helen. That for
the former diffused joy over the wife’s loving face; but the
face of the latter was suffused with blushes, and her hand was
tremulous with the agitation in her mind.

“Helen, is the subject of that letter unacceptable to your
heart?” asked Stella.

 
    

122 THE DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY.

“You know it, then, dear Stella?” interrogated Helen.

“T do, Helen,” replied Stella.

“Does it meet your approval ?” asked Helen.

“My devotion to you, dear Helen, might tell you how I
should estimate such an alliance,” replied Stella.

Helen fell upon her neck and sobbed convulsively.

“Until recently,” she said, “I‘thought that my heart was
in the grave. But how can Rufus ask a hand attainted by
an attempt on his sister’s life ?”

“Because he knows the heart disowns the deed,” replied
Stella, “and because his sister has told him of the rich virtues

of her dearest friend. Besides, he knows that if the mis- '

guided Claude once assailed his sister, the same gallant boy
preserved the life of his dear friend Percy, now that sister’s
husband.”

When these friends again made a short visit to Philadelphia,
it was on the occasion of the marriage of Rufus and Helen.
During this period of festival, Chloe informed Stella of the
“jimp’rance o’ that nigger Cesar.” About the same time
Cesar had spoken to Rufus of the sympathy he entertained
for the loneliness of Chloe, and the remedy he proposed.
Their master and mistress, wishing to make them as happy as
themselves, consented to their union, and Cesar led his sable
charmer to the altar, arrayed in all the colors of the rainbow.

 

A few years, when another generation of both Archers and
Westvilles had commenced their pilgrimage, peace was pro-
claimed, and both these valiant soldiers and loving husbands
marched triumphantly into New York in the train of General
Washington. They had served during the entire period of
that memorable war with honor and efficiency, and won from
their beloved commander the rich inheritance of his generous
praise and personal esteem.

To their great surprise, the worthy Sergeant Scroggins was
still the occupant of the house in Pearl street. He had lost
an arm, and bore other visible marks of the prowess of his
antagonists; but he was in health, and the meeting was most
cordial. Percy and Rufus were overwhelmed with his
thankfulness and honest love.

“TI know that I'do not deserve to enjoy that liberty which

   
  

 
 
 

 

THE SERGEANT’S FATE. 123

you have so nobly won, sir,’ said the Sergeant to Percy,
“and against which I have so steadily fought; but neither I
nor my wife could leave without seeing you and again
expressing our gratitude to the lady—Stella.”

When Percy and Rufus reported to Stella and Helen what
the British had left behind them -in their retreat, they desired
that their excellent enemy might be retained in safe custody
until they could reach New York, and determine upon his
fate. A week later, when this council of four called on the
Sergeant, and informed him that it was determined that he
should be removed to a certain estate in Virginia, on which
in future he was to reside near to Percy Archer, his wife and
family, tears stood in the disabled veteran’s eyes, his wife
covered the hand of Stella with kisses, and even the infant
Jeopardy, whom Percy had saved from the flames, folded his
little arms tightly round the knee of his preserver, uttering
exclamations of unfeigned thankfulness.

Soon, all were established beneath the hospitable roof of
Percy Archer, where the Sergeant made every effort to be
useful. When Rufus and Helen were visiting there, which
was not unfrequent, they would form a party beneath the
shade of a venerable oak that stood on the grounds, and talk
over past occurrences. One of the most weighty and ever-
present thoughts in the heart of the Sergeant was what could
have become of the poor boy, Claude; but none offered a
conjecture, and the worthy fellow knew not that the sweet
voice which, in later life, soothed many hours of his affliction,
was that of the youth whom he had so fondly cherished as
Claude.