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SL'SA^•^•AH— " Beautiful eveu in Londou."— Page 246. 
 
PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 
 
 E Eale of tije Hebolutiou, 
 
 EMBRACING 
 
 AN AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT OF THE THRILLING INCIDENTS AND EXCITING 
 
 EPISODES OF THE STRUGGLE FOR INDEPENDENCE ; GRAPHIC 
 
 SKETCHES OF REVOLUTIONARY CELEBRITIES; THE STORY 
 
 OF DEBORAH SAMSON, THE WOMAN SOLDIER ; AND 
 
 A COMPLETE DRAMA OF AMERICAN LIFE 
 
 ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 BY 
 
 JULIA MCNAIR WRIGHT. 
 
 Ilhistratcb fottb autbcnttt |,lortraits, diagrams, anb ^hk 
 
 JONES BROTHERS & CO. 
 
 CINCINNATI, PHILADELPHIA, CHICAGO, 
 MEMPHIS, ATLANTA. 
 
 1876. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S76, by 
 
 JOHN T. JONES, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 
 
 
 ELKCTROTYPEI> AT 
 
 FttA>KUN TVPK FOCNUEV, 
 
 CINCINNATI. 
 
/ a 33 
 
 / 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 rpHE following pages are not a novel or romance, but a 
 Chronicle, of the years from 1773 to 1784 inclusive. A chron- 
 icle, not only of public and historic deeds, but also of domestic 
 life and incidents. Beside great events and fields of blood, 
 lie homes and home scenes. There runs along by the wild 
 tide of war, the calm stream of daily duties, the quiet toils 
 of women, and the plays of little children. Here, not only 
 are represented some — British and American, Patriots and To- 
 ries — whose memories are preserved only in the line of their 
 own descendants, but others, whose names are of renown, and 
 whose lives are an inheritance of the civilized world. 
 
 Certain facts about this work must be noted. It 's in- 
 tended to be, and is, a careful presentation— a photograph, in- 
 deed — of the mannei's, daily lives, style of speech, culture, 
 dress, amusements, customs, housekeeping, avocations, reading, 
 and habits, of Americans — one hundred years ago. 
 
 All the historic characters introduced speak, not w'ords put 
 
 into their mouths by a writer, but words exactly their own, 
 
 that have come down as matters of historic verity. It might 
 
 (iii) 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 have been thought that the care of a Dame AVarreu, the dili- 
 gence of a Stark, the researches of a Bancroft, the compre- 
 hensiveness of a Ividpath, the aptness and assiduity of a Hil- 
 dreth, the zeal of a Watson, and the lively gossiping of a 
 Mrs. Ellet, must have already recorded every Revolutionary 
 incident, and yet some events of the time were even by these 
 omitted, and are in this Chronicle for the first time made public. 
 
 It is fitting that the story of our separation from the mother- 
 country should 1)6 set forth without rancor or bitterness toward 
 either side, and that the feelings, opinions, and arguments of 
 those who conscientiously took different sides in that famous 
 struggle should be exj^licated. A man was not necessarily a 
 demon, because he was a Tory; nor a saint, because he was a 
 Patriot. 
 
 Again, there were giants in those days, moral giants, not 
 merely in tlie higher ranks of the army, but in the station of 
 coir.mon soldiers; men who in their narrower spheres, showed 
 the heroic virtues of a "Washington, and of such we would pre- 
 serve the portraiture. 
 
 Since that period of our nation's birth, our whole public and 
 private life has undergone such a change, that these cameos 
 of scenes of that time are more valuable as curiosities, than 
 even for beauty. One who carefully reads this history of 
 that epoch will have firmly fixed in mind the origin and causes 
 of the difficulty between England and the thirteen colonies, the 
 relation, weight, proceedings, life and death of many of the 
 leading men of that day ; a clear idea of our foreign relations ; 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 of the sequence and bearing of public events; of the progress 
 of the war in all the colonies ; the victories and defeats, the suf- 
 ferings and triumphs, the daily business, and pleasures, hopes, 
 fears, losses, despair, and joys, of the people in their homes ; a 
 glimpse of the thousand sacrifices and conquests and martyr- 
 doms that fell then to the share of private life. 
 
 The religious views, questions, and training which had a pow- 
 erfully moulding influence on 2:)ublic opinion when differences 
 arose between England and her Colonies, have been too gener- 
 ally disregarded. The Revolution of 1776 was the harvest of 
 Luther's seed-sowing in 1521. The high hearts of Scotch Cove- 
 nanters, and English Puritans, and French Huguenots, and 
 Holland Beggars, wrought out the problem of national freedom, 
 and laid deep and broad and lasting the foundations of repub- 
 lican institutions. Blood that had garrisoned Londonderry, 
 leaped at the challenge to war for a principle, in Georgia and 
 the Carolinas; and the followers of the conquering House of 
 Orange shouted Amen to the Meckhnberg Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence. 
 
 And yet, there were honest inen to whose hearts and in 
 whose ideas, England was indeed a mother; who felt that to 
 sunder ties with her, would be foully unfilial; and who, like 
 David, cried "Who shall stretch his hand against the Lord's 
 Anointed, and be guiltless?" 
 
 While careful histories, frequently by eye-witnesses, of the 
 public events of the Revolutionary War have been multiplied, 
 a clear picture of daily domestic life, education, and views, 
 
vi PREFACE. 
 
 has long been needed. Such a knowledge of our ancestors is 
 usually as vague as our views of the domestic manners of the 
 Trojans or Carthagenians ; or of the Egyptians before the 
 tombs were opened ; or of the Romans before Macaulay sang 
 his Lays. 
 
 We know generally that our ancestors wore knee-breeches, 
 and wigs, and powder ; and we do not realize that they did not 
 read daily the Times or Tribune, and that they had not Walter 
 Scott and Washington Irving on their book-shelves, and friction 
 matches in their kitchens. 
 
 To bring those to whom we owe not merely physical, but na- 
 tional and moral life, home to us, so that across the gulf of one 
 hundred years we can shake hands with them, and be friends, 
 as well as descendants, is one of the several objects of this 
 
 work. 
 
 The Author. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Why the book appears. — New Interests in old times. — A bit of family 
 history. — Old Paisley. — Family feud. — Grandfather. — Aunt Jean and 
 Uncle John. — An old lady's vengeance. — A manuscript. — The British 
 Museum. — A search successful. — A pair of pictures. — Grandmother's 
 mother 19-25. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A Plymouth Homestead. — A Little Maid of the Puritans. — One of 
 the old Covenanters. — Dame Mercy Warren. — Memories of the League 
 and Covenant. — The Scotsmen of the West Country. — A Theory of Gov- 
 ernment. — Dame Warren advises journalizing. — Long and short lines. — 
 A present. — Tea and Taxes. — Can these men be heroes. — A morning 
 gallop. — An India Scarf. — Full dress one hundred years ago. — Gentle- 
 men and Ladies of j'e olden time. — Keeping a one hundredth birth- 
 day. — Dinner table politics. — A Patriot and Tory. — Discussion of the 
 causes of dissatisfaction between the Mother Country and the Colonies. — 
 Manners of our Revolutionary Ancestors 2G-46. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Dame Mercy Warren and Abbey Temple. — ^That dreadful creature, a 
 boy. — Boys and girls one hundred years ago. — Great grandfather and the 
 lassie. — A Puritan Sermon. — An old man's blessing. — P'amily traditions. — 
 "Christ's Crown and Covenant!" — Colonial newspapers. — Cousin Bessie. — 
 Three R's. — Daughter's of Liberty and Hyperion. — A young lady of 
 1773. — A coquette one hundred years ago. — Spinning in the garret. — 
 Novel of old time. — The Otis Family. — Gala dress of ancient days. — 
 "The evil art of dancing." — A sudden interruption. — At Dame War- 
 ren's. — Private Theatricals in a barn. — Patriotic songs. — Bessie's flirta- 
 tions. — A model j'oung man. — Training day. — Minute Men. — " Colonial 
 
 lubbers." 47-70. 
 
 (vii) 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Bessie and her iniquities. — Occupations of a New England family. — 
 Tea Sliips. — The Taisch. — Remedy for nervousness. — A Massachusetts 
 Woman. — A Plymouth fireside. — Colonial agitations. — Tories for gain. — 
 "Sons of Liberty." — "War Sermon. — Tea ships at Boston. — Letter from 
 Mistress Abigail Adams. — The Covenanters' last days. — A battle cry and 
 a victory. — A winter funeral. — Xews of the famous Tea Party. — Patriots 
 last resort. — The cloud of war. — What* may be in a hundred years from 
 1774. — A quilting party. — A lonely heart. — People with histories. 71-95. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 In Boston. — Boston a Century ago. — A yoimg lady's dress. — From Ply- 
 mouth to Boston. — What our grandiuothers studied ; how they occupied 
 their time. — Boston Port Bill. — Public sympathy. — Errand of Paul 
 Revere. — Massachusetts Patriots. — A new Governor. — Gifts to Boston. — 
 A young girl's reading a century ago. — A reproof not taken in good 
 part. — At Plymouth. — A lock of hair. — Putnam in Boston.— National 
 Congress in Philadelphia in 1,774.— The quiet currents of life. — Deborah 
 Samson. — A bound girl's fortunes. — Hoeing a hard row.— A Negro's war 
 principles.— The "Home Guard." — Hiring Indians to light. . 95-121. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 News from the Continental Congress.— Brig Peggy Stuart.— Patriot and 
 Tory.- Make a compact.— A high heart.— Visit from British officers. — 
 A snow bound liouse.— Two kinds of Tories.— Commemoration of the 
 Boston Massacre.— War begins.— Night ride of Paul Revere.— Battle of 
 Lexington.— The curse of civil war.— Isaiah Hooper joins the army.— 
 Stark and Putnam go to camp.— Deborah in the field.— Giving break- 
 fast to the recruits.— Ethan Allen, his politics, creed, and exploits.— 
 The Colonies rising to arms.— Stores for the army.— Powder.— Washington 
 chosen commander-in-chief.— Battle of Bunker Hill.— Death of Warren.— 
 Spies at Plymouth.— Minute-men's revenge.— ^Ministers plea.- A Patriot 
 martyr.— A woman's heart broken.— Grandmother's last will and Testa- 
 ment.— The "pewter for bullets.''- Two chests.— Christmas night.— 
 Burial Hill at Plymouth 122-148. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Doings at Congress.— Sending supplies to camp.— Franklin comes back 
 from England.— Petition from Congress to the King.— Virginia.— The new 
 flag !— Bessie Warley comes to take possession.— Debtors and creditors.— 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 Bessie in a passion.— A pewter bottle. — Two strings to one's bow.— A fash- 
 ionable young lady's amusements.— The new minister.— Bessie's new 
 lover. —Richard Reid as Othello.— Seige of Boston.— Heroic self-sacritices. — 
 Skirmishes in the Carolinas.— Deborah Samson's disguise. — Going for a sol- 
 dier.— Hannah Dana goes to camp.— Such a naughty Bessie.— Love and 
 rage.— Starting for Philadelphia.— Puritan Pilgrim's Progress.— Recognizes 
 Robert Shirtliffe.— Tavern fare and prices, tavern drinks and topics one 
 hundred years ago.— From Plymouth to Philadelphia on horseback.— A 
 queer calvacade.— .July 4th, 1776.— Judith at the door.— The ring of lib- 
 ertvbell 149-180. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Uncle John Temple's family.— Puritan domestic life.— Pretty girls.— 
 Philadelphia a century ago.— A Tory family.— Young loves crossed.— 
 "Which side shall conquer, England or the Colonies.- Brothers on dif- 
 ferent sides.— Giving a son to the country.— A curious covenant.— The 
 Theater in the attic— Uncle John's indignation.— "O, Comus, Conius!"— 
 Private life in Pliiladelphia during the Revolution.— Sewing for the sol- 
 diers.— A ball in the attic— The head-dress on lire.— Early hours.— Mas- 
 querading as beggars. — Serious consequences. — The battle of Trenton. — 
 "Washington crossing the Delaware.— Rahl's death.— Charles wounded.— 
 Going to the scene of war.— A winter ride to Trenton. . . 181-209. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 At a Quaker's home. — Kind Mistress Stacy Potts. — Alight of "Wash- 
 ington. — Deborah as Robert again. — The army clad. — Camp fires along 
 the Assanpink. — Battle of Princeton. — Death of ]\Iercer. — That coward. — 
 Robert Morris raising funds. — Borrowing from a Quaker. — Judith's dona- 
 tipn. — The American Fabhis. — Winter-quarters at Morristown. — The 
 Howe Brothers. — Lovers in war time. — Books from England. — A lovely 
 Tory lady. — Bessie and Mr. Bowdoin. — Exchange of Prisoners. — Isaiah 
 Hooper, and the prison hulk "Jersey." — Nigh unto death. — A woman's 
 ministrations. — An incorruptible Patriot. — A Uriah of '76. — Men of iron. — 
 Putnam at Philadelphia.— Meeting with Doctor Franklin.— A man in 
 love.— The wrong thing at the wrong time. — Toryism flourishing. — The 
 second 4th of July. Visit from Thomas Otis. — Girls and lovers.— A wise 
 woman's words. — Dark days and disasters. — Sullivan's defeat. — Marquis 
 Lafayette. — Philadelphia in the hands of Cornwallis. . . 210-240. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Fright of the colored people. — A garrison of girls. — Summoned to sur- 
 render. — Patriot women. — Hester and the weed. — Uninvited guests. — 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 A mixed dinner party. — A conquering beauty. — Sharp replies. — A Tory 
 to the rescue. — Henrj' Seaforth and Judith. — Donop's defeat. — A Hessian 
 prisoner. — The mercenaries. — Winter of 1777. — Burgoyne's surrender. — 
 Yankee Doodle. — Frigates captured. — Battle of Germantown. — A British 
 lover, — Two strings of Warley wisdom. — Bessie holds forth on the best 
 you can do for yourself. — British occupation of Philadelphia. — Cajitain 
 Andre. — Turncoats. — Mr. Duche. — A spy in the house. — Escaping a 
 halter. — A girl's quick wits. — Going to the Logan home. — A subterranean 
 passage. — Ta-ga-jute the Indian 240-277. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A young lady's winter in Revolutionary times.— Logan House.— A 
 nymph of 1777. — Value of a fan. — ^listress Logan's dinner. — Logan's 
 ghost. — A light-brained captain. — The secret key. — Sending news to 
 "Washington. — Battle of AVhite Marsh. — News of the Patriot army. — 
 Uncle Temple appears. — A valuable petticoat, and an unsuspected 
 money purse. — An early start.— A neutral's troubles. — Uncle and Abbey 
 going to camp. — The patriotic ferrj-man. — Camp at Valley Forge.— Sol- 
 dier's life.— Privations of the Patriots. — Washington's head-quarters. — 
 The nurse in camp. — The New Year's dinner party. — The friends in 
 camp. — Sick in camp. — An Indian friend. — Washington's dinner. — Lady 
 Washington at Valley Forge. — The General's prayer. — The pathos of 
 Logan. — Visitors bj' a kitchen fire. — Two armies contrasted. — Bryan 
 Fairfax. — Arrival of Baron Steuben. — The Baron's difficulties. — A drill. 
 — Fortunes of war.— Getting home. — A long absence. . . 278-309. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Dame Warren's history. — Uncle John and his daughter Susannah. — 
 A British lover. — Liking a man better than his cause. — A Patriot 
 maiden.— War and lovers. — General Howe to be superseded. — Phila- 
 delphia about to be evacuated. — Bessie and her principles. — A loyal 
 soul. — Mistress Seaforth on the King's army. — A matron's advice upon 
 love and marriage. — London and the Colonies.— Lady Washington's 
 caution and compliment. — A chaperon secured. — Captain Banks ac- 
 cepted. — Officers' club house. — Captain Andre. — Doctor Franklin's house, 
 — Hester's wit. — Gates, Greene, and Howe. — Persistent guests. — Doctor 
 Franklin in Paris. — A treaty of alliance.— France and Spain. — A junto 
 of Patriots. — Neutral allies. — Dinner table politics. — King of Prussia and 
 the mercenaries. — Dangers of America. — Congress is timid. — The money. — 
 Easy to condemn.— Sending to Nantes for goods.— Grandmother's la«e, — 
 Mary Pemberton's coach.— A spy in the city. — The prisoners are ill. — 
 Sent to Logan House 309-331. 
 
CONTENTS. xi 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Logan House to be burnt. — Madam Logan's presence of mind. — 
 Clearing out a fashionable dwelling. — Captain Banks. — A reprieve. — A 
 drunkard's follj'. — A laughable scene. — Return to the city. — Bessie de- 
 termines to be foolish. — A wedding in 1776. — The wedding party. — 
 General Howe and Judith. — Repartee. — Puritan principles. — A gay couple 
 beginning life. — Evil omens. — Signs of the times. — Light for the pa- 
 triots. — The English Commons desire peace. — The power of kings. — This 
 waste of lives. — The stir of departure. — Mirth and War. — " Philadelphia 
 has captured Howe; not Howe Philadelphia.'" — The Howe brothers 
 under the displeasure of the Minister of War. — The conmiissioners from 
 England. — Flight of Tories. — Steady fathers' views of the follies of the 
 time. — The Mischianza. — An alarm. — Howe Brothers. — The British evac- 
 uate Philadelphia.— Tory Terror 331-353. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 A girl's dream of war. — Arnold occupies Philadelphia. — The battle of 
 Monmouth. — Lee's evil star. — Howe's retreat through the Jerseys. — Failure 
 of the commissioners. — Reed's reply. — French fleet arrives just too late. — 
 Massacre of Wyoming. — Woes of Wyoming. — British prognostications. — 
 Charles at home. — A soldier's return. — A bashful maid. — Armj' in sum- 
 mer. — Hannah Dana's outfit. — Mr. Reid's eulogism. — Oaks and roses. — 
 " Good-bye, Thomas." — Mr. Bowdoin's delusion. — In a garden. — Arnold in 
 the city. — Miss Shippen. — Continental monej'. — Spain and America. — 
 The widow Ross and her money. — Affairs at Rhode Island. — Georgia 
 and General Lincoln. — The Jerseys. — A letter from Bessie. — Goods from 
 Nantes. — A meeting in the street. — Robert Shirtliffe again. — Christmas 
 1778. — Poor Deborah! — Her story. — Massacre at Cherry Valley. — Isaiah 
 Hooper disappears. — A letter from Dame Warren. — A ride in Wa.shing- 
 ton's cortege. — Trouble about Arnold. — Camp in 1779. . . 353-377. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Winter-quarters 1779. — Baron Steuben. — Ladies in Camp. — At Wash- 
 ington's headquarter.s. — Robert Shirtliffe. — A friend in need. — General 
 Washington handles a difficult question discreetly. — A soldier's dis- 
 charge. — Condemned unheard. — An un-feed attorney. — Saying a les.son 
 well. — Richard Reid's intentions. — Apples a dollar each. — A spy in 
 camp. — All for nothing. — A grand fete in camp. — General Arnold's 
 court-martial. — Letters from Bessie. — A pass to New York. — Exchanged 
 prisoners. — The beautiful river. — At New York in 1779. — Bessie in dis- 
 
xii CONTENTS. 
 
 tress.— A new nurse.— Living in Xew York.— Captain Banks's singular 
 manners. — Letters from London. — Why not? — New dresses from Lon- 
 don. — Major Andre. — The review. — Bessie elated. — An English Lady. — 
 The little lad. — A terrible denouement. — The fearful game played to 
 the end. — Mr. Warley. — The ensign. — Explanation. — Mr. Seaforth sum- 
 moned. — A dead man on a bier. — Shot through the heart. — The Eng- 
 lish Mrs. Banks. — My uncle's heart and fortune. . . . 378-405. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Bessie in Philadelphia. — Connecticut wasted. — "Mad Anthony's" ex- 
 ploits. — "Light-horse Harry" at Paulus Hook. — The American Fahius. — 
 Paul Jones. — Washington at West Point. — Rhode Lsland evacuated. — 
 British in the South. — Providing for soldiers. — Charles gone North. — 
 Headquarters at Morristown. — The valueless money. — Nothing to give. — 
 Bravo, Jersey. — A cold winter. — Arnold reprimanded. — Hannah Dana 
 ill. — Going to Morristown. — The farm-house. — A peddler. — A dog a 
 four-legged defender. — A terrible scene. — An escape. — Joseph Dana 
 wounded. — Taken to Philadelphia. — Sent home armless. — Lafayette's 
 return. — ^Mutiny. — Pain and Patriotism. — Isaiali Hooper Mi.ssing. — Letter 
 from Deborah. — Ta-ga-jute at his father's grave. — The Indian's white 
 brother. — Tbe chief's errand. — A wounded friend. — Faithful unto death. — 
 Trust and remorse. — "Good-by(^ Bessie." — "He died believing in her." — 
 Whose fault is it?— Children of the covenant. . . . 40G-428. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Affairs in the sjiring of 1780. — Troubles between Congress and the 
 army. — The hero of the age. — Death of De Kalb. — War in Virginia. — 
 Arnold's treason. — The whole storj'. — Andre's doom. — Intentions are not 
 dealt with in court-martials. — Mrs. Arnold. — No news of Colonel Nel- 
 son. — Was Thomas dead? — A lock of fair hair. — Retrospection. — Susan- 
 nah's faith. — A true girl's heart. — Hard winters. — Laurens sent to France 
 to ask funds. — The soldiers of the Revolution. — The great mutiny. — Reed 
 to the front. — Clinton's proposals. — "What, are we all Arnolds?" — Robert 
 Morris at the tea-table. — Proposals in Congress. — Confederation and 
 LTnion. — Moving toward unitj'. — Virginia gentlemen. — Arnold ravaging 
 Virginia. — Cowpens and Guilford Court-house. — Greene leads a cliase. — 
 A goodly Saxon knight. — A British view of affairs. — Plans for spring war- 
 fare. — Richard Reid vexed. — At tea. — A wonderful surpri.se. — Isaiah res- 
 cued.— Ta-ga-jute does his duty.— His story.— Captive in Shawnee 
 Town. — A hero everv inch. 429-451. 
 
CONTENTS. xiii 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Uncle Matthew's visit. — A ride. — A drover. — The Frenchman's. — Mr. 
 Reid sliot. — The girl dragged off. — A struggle for life. — "Who shall drowi>. — 
 A rescuer. — Hurled over the cliff. — Ta-ga-jute. — Richard revives. — Re- 
 turning home in a cart. — The invalids. — Going to the country. — Sum- 
 mer on the Delaware. — A swift messenger. — Terrible tidings. — A niglit 
 ride. — The dying officer. — The father's coming. — The price of victory. — 
 This is the fruit of war. — Old men's tears. — The Saxon knight's returi>« — 
 Hearts break but war goes on. — The Burial at the vault. — At home< — 
 Desolation. — Susannah the fair. — Sliarp ciuestions. — A sad visit. — More 
 hopeful prospects 452-473. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A lull in war times. — August 1781. — Xews of the army in motioiv — 
 Washington coming. — Patriot army marches through Philadelphia* — 
 Worn Patriots and splendid French allies. — ]\Iai'ch to head of Elk* — 
 Laurens' success. — The parting. — Cross purposes and cross maidens- — 
 Hester's new freak. — The lost soldier. — Washington's ride to head of 
 Elk. — Good news in the city. — Big bonfires. — Mount Vernon. — Virginian 
 hospitality. — Lady Washington at home. — The allied fleet. — News at 
 midnight. — ''One o'clock and Cornwallis is taken!" — A wild night.— 
 Mutations of fortune. — Description of the siege of Yorktown. — A Patriot 
 Governor. — The surrender. — Sorrow in joy. — Death of Mr. Curtis. — Han- 
 nah Dana's lonely grave. — Anxieties of General Washington. — Dreams of 
 Plymouth. — Nothing to wear in 1782. — Belles of the olden times. 474-498. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Lady Washington in Philadelphia.— A call on Lady Washingtoni — 
 "I should suppose so." — Uncle John proposes to buy the old home- 
 stead.— Beautiful vistas.— What the land will need.— The army at New- 
 berg.— Dangers of peace. — Commissioners in Paris. — Hardships in camp. — 
 Bitter to the end.— The truant Colonel's return.— A live sale.— Taken 
 into favor. — A Revolutionary father. — Briti.sh and British. — Our Susan- 
 nah is happy.— A new arrival. — A guest from Canada.— Prison life in 
 Montreal. — A fantastic couple. — .Judith gives sound advice. — A young 
 lady speaks to the point.— Turning the heel of a stocking. — Discontents 
 in the army.— Waiting for news from England. — Dawnings of peaces- 
 Confiscating Tory property. — Honest men's contracts. — The idea of a 
 Republic. — What kind of men are needed. — And what kind of women* — 
 True life of Republics. — The remedy for all the evils in the world. — 
 Death of Otis. — Sending to France for goods. . . . 498-525. 
 
xiv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Reduction of the army. — Jan. 1st, 1783. — Sir Guy Carleton in New 
 York. — Thomas and Hester. — An expected marriage. — Deborah Sam- 
 son again. — The anonymous papers in the army. — Wasliington's telling 
 speech. — Letters from Congress to the army. — Arrival of the Triumph. — 
 Letter from Lafayette. — Soldier become citizen. — The Pl3'mouth hero 
 goes home. — Eight years of absence. — The goods from Nantes. — Hester's 
 wedding. — The house in Boston. — A wedding journey 100 years ago. — 
 At the old home in Plymouth. — Richard Reid in the old home. — Han- 
 nah's parents. — The joyous greeting. — The mutineers in Philadelphia. — 
 Congress adjourns to Princeton. — A Patriot and a Tory joined in holy 
 matrimony. — Bessie and Mrs. Seaforth. — Colonel Nelson returns from 
 England. — A jolly British uncle. — Treaty signed in Paris. — All the land 
 our own. — Washington resigns his commission. — The scene at Annap- 
 opolis. — New Year's eve 1784. — Two letters. — God bless you! — A colored 
 woman's opinions and intentions. — *' Me an' Peter an' Pompey." — The old 
 home and the new life and a cheerful greeting. — May the word be ful- 
 filled unto us 525-548, 
 
ILLUSTEATIOKS. 
 
 Page. 
 Susannah— " Beautiful even in London" (Frontispiece) 
 
 Grandmotlier's Mother . . 25 
 
 Tire Old Farm 28 
 
 Portrait of Patrick Henry 44 
 
 The old Thirteen Colonies 46 
 
 Grandfather's Church 52 
 
 Novel Reading , 59 
 
 Nut Gathering — A New England Scene 79 
 
 Portrait of Samuel Adams ........ 80 
 
 Winter at Plymouth 84 
 
 By Coacli to Boston 99 
 
 Night Ride of Paul Revere ........ 103 
 
 Abbey at Home with Grandfather Ill 
 
 Carpenter's Hall— 1774 . . * 113 
 
 Telling the War-News 115 
 
 Bringing home the letters 122 
 
 Scene of the Battle of Bunker Hill— 1775 139 
 
 Burial Hill at Plymouth 148 
 
 The Retreat from Quebec 151 
 
 The Old Mill 161 
 
 Faneuii Hall— Boston 162 
 
 Portrait of Deborah Samson as "Robert Shirtliffe" . . . 167 
 
 Bessie and Mr. Bowdoin . 168 
 
 State House— Philadelphia, 1776 177 
 
 House in which Decl. of Independence was written. . . . 179 
 
 Independence Bell . ISO 
 
 Philadelphia and vicinity — 1776 182 
 
 Independence Hall . 183 
 
 Map of the Jerseys — 1776 190 
 
 Portrait of Dr. Benjamin Franklin 193 
 
 Portrait of General Greene 196 
 
 Battle of Long Island— 1776 197 
 
 Battle of Trenton— 1776 208 
 
 Portrait of General Washington 211 
 
 The Prison Hulk "Jersey " 223 
 
 Isaiah Hooper on his farm ........ 225 
 
 (15) 
 
16 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 Fourth of July Celebration in 1777 233 
 
 Portrait of General Burgoyne . . 234 
 
 Portrait of General Sullivan 237 
 
 Portrait of La Fayette 238 
 
 Portrait of Lord Cornwallis 239 
 
 Portrait of General Fraser . . 249 
 
 Burgoyne's Encampment 250 
 
 Scene of Burgoyne's Surrender . 251 
 
 Bessie and Abbey — "What! has he asked you? " .... 261 
 
 Portrait of Captain Andre 263 
 
 Portrait of Ta-ga-jute Logan — The White Man's friend . . . 277 
 
 The Subterranean Passage under the Logan House .... 283 
 
 Bringing in the Yule Log — Logan House 286 
 
 Supplies for Army at Valley Forge 291 
 
 Encampment at Valley Forge— 1777-8 292 
 
 Hannah Dana ... 295 
 
 Portrait of Lady Washington 300 
 
 Portrait of General Arnold 353 
 
 The Beautiful Valley of Wyoming 357 
 
 Portrait of Brandt 359 
 
 Portrait of General Francis Marion 368 
 
 Indian Massacre in Cherry Valley 374 
 
 Eeturn of La Fayette to France 385 
 
 Bessie convalescent 395 
 
 Verplanck's Point, from Stony Point Lighthouse .... 404 
 
 Portrait of General Anthony Wayne 407 
 
 Subscriptions for the Continental Army 409 
 
 Scene of Arnold's Treason •. . . . 431 
 
 The Arrest of Major Andre 432 
 
 The Logan House 450 
 
 Portrait of General Heath 483 
 
 Mt. Vernon, the home of Washington 484 
 
 Siege of Yorktown— 1781 489 
 
 The Surrender of Lord Cornwallis 490 
 
 Washington's Headquarters at Newberg 501 
 
 Portrait of Sir Guy Carleton 502 
 
 Capture of Thomas Otis by the Lidians 511 
 
 Abbey and Richard visit Plymouth 535 
 
 AVashington resigning his command ....... 542 
 
 The End 548 
 
IrhtroclTLctory jVote. 
 
 TT was the vice of the old-school historians that they 
 ■^ dealt only with the public aifairs of nations. According 
 to their philosophy, events were nothing unless projected 
 on the heroic scale : and the difference between the 
 heroic and the Quixotic was often undiscoverable. The 
 most obscure annalist felt called upon to mask, mount, 
 and marshal his characters, and set them all a-j ousting. 
 The world was a tournament and human life a ceremony. 
 Here was a king, there a priest, and yonder a warrior. 
 Here was a Senate debating, there an army marching, 
 and yonder a city sacked by janizaries. The whole 
 panorama was a thing remote from the real dispositions 
 and purposes of life ; a pageant of idealities rather than 
 a drama of facts. 
 
 Not so with the historical writings of the New Era. 
 History now hath its undercurrent, upon whose abound- 
 ing bosom are borne the destinies of all men. Now have 
 the lowly found a voice ; the weak man, a tongue ; the 
 
 poor man, an oracle. The poets from Wordsworth down, 
 
 (17) 
 
1 8 INTEOD UCTOR Y NOTE. 
 
 the great novelists, and the new-school historians have 
 praised the common lot and made it beautiful. Every- 
 day life has been crowned with all the beatitudes of 
 letters and art. The discovery has at last been made 
 that Manners and Customs are the vital parts of history ; 
 that what the people think about and hope for is more 
 important in the records of nationality than the story of 
 intrigues, debates, and battles. 
 
 The following work is a contribution to the history of 
 the social life of the fathers. It aspires to be considered 
 a special study made in the by-ways of the Revolution. 
 The aim has been to preserve and present, in a compact 
 and attractive form, the story of some important facts 
 likely to be overlooked or forgotten in the glamour of 
 the great Centennial — facts already but half discover- 
 able through the shadows, and soon to be lost in oblivion 
 unless preserved in some such record as this. 
 
 THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
 July 1st, 1876. 
 
PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE story's history. 
 
 rPHINGS trifling in themselves, at the time and place of 
 their orig-in, become of worth as curiosities when re- 
 moved to a certain distance of space, or as antiquities when 
 removed to a certain distance of time. In this centennial 
 year of our Republic every relic of Revolutionary days 
 has acquired an arbitrary value. "What a treasure to the 
 "Committee" would be that famous pie for which one 
 hundred dollars of Colonial currency were paid! What 
 a romance hangs about some idle letter, describing a party 
 given to Lord Howe ; or a fragment of a complimentary 
 note bearing the signature of Martha Washington. This 
 interest in all that belongs to our Revolutionary struggle 
 has influenced me to present to the public a simple memo- 
 rial of family life one hundred years ago, which until now 
 would only have been interesting to the descendants of 
 her by whom it was written. In editing this chronicle for 
 the public I feel obliged to give an account of its origin 
 
 and history. My paternal grandfather was a Scotchman 
 
 (19) 
 
20 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 from Paisley. He left home early in life, and having 
 settled in New York State, after some years married a 
 maiden of mingled Scotch and Puritan blood. About a 
 decade after the marriage, my grandmother's mother died, 
 and among her papers was found a portly roll of yellow 
 manuscript, written in a clear, bold hand. My grand- 
 mother at once recognized this as the record of her 
 mother's early life — a bit of family chronicle which she 
 had heard read in her young days, and which had been 
 carefully preserved by its author, as a relic of happy and 
 yet often anxious hours. 
 
 My grandfather had, with Scotch tenacity, clung to his 
 home and kindred over seas. He had been often urged 
 to bring his wife on a visit to the old country relations; 
 but family and business cares had prevented him frona 
 accepting the invitation. Yet he was exceedingly de- 
 sirous of making his large circle of brothers and sisters 
 feel acquainted with their "American relative," and when 
 he had read the story left by his mother-in-law he thought 
 that if he sent the manuscript, with miniatures of the au- 
 thor and her daughter, his wife, it would serve to make 
 the whole family feel less like strangers to him and his. 
 His parents being dead, he very naturally sent his gift to 
 his eldest brother John, with a request that he would 
 "lend it around" among his family friends. 
 
 Now, my great-uncle John had made a good marriage, 
 and prospered in his business; and, among other strokes 
 of good luck, it had been his fortune to rent a historic bit 
 of property — nothing less than the Grange, near Crooks- 
 town Castle, once a royal demesne, and belonging to Mar- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 21 
 
 garet, wife of James IV. of Scotland, and daughter of 
 Henry VII. of England. This Grange had been one of 
 the homes of Mary Stuart, with her governess and nurse, 
 before her departure for France. The Grange had fallen 
 from hand to hand, the old dwelling still standing, until 
 it was rented, with a mill property, to my great-uncle 
 John. Success had made this worthy man a little arro- 
 gant: established in what had been an abode of royalty, 
 beholding around him the oaken wainscotings and the 
 tapestried panels which had graced the home of the luck- 
 less and ill-deserving princess, he began to feel himself in 
 some occult fashion allied to the Tudors and Stuarts, and 
 treated his own family in a lofty and dictatorial manner. 
 Those canny Scots were unruffled by this style of l^roth- 
 erly kindness; they merely accepted it as "ane o' Johnny's 
 ways" — all but my great-aunt Jean. Aunt Jean, eldest 
 of her family, a spinster who had inherited several thou- 
 sand pounds from a far-oif cousin, deeply resented her 
 brother's assumption of superiority. Between Jolin and 
 Jean existed internecine war that nothing could placate. 
 
 When the errant Matthew sent from America his pres- 
 ent of two minia'tures on ivory, and an ancient chronicle, 
 to the home of his fathers, and chose John as the recipi- 
 ent of his gift, great was the wrath that surged in the soul 
 of Aunt Jean. She believed that the family had entered 
 into a conspiracy against her — that Matthew was confed- 
 erate with John to rob her of the respect due her. John, 
 with much condescension, oifered her the first reading of 
 the manuscript after his own family had finished it. ^ly 
 aunt Jean scornfully rejected the proifer, and avowed she . 
 
22 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " wad hae naething to do wl't." True to her chosen 
 policy, when the story was in the hands of a niece, whom 
 she was visiting, and was to be read aloud to the house- 
 hold, aunt Jean arose and left the room. (However, there 
 was pretty good proof that she satisfied her curiosity by 
 remaining so near an open door that she heard every word 
 of all the readings.) My great-aunt could not be content 
 without* some more forcible manifestation of her feelings 
 in this important matter. She cast about her for a fashion 
 of punishing her delinquent brothers. Where should she 
 find it better than in the making her will? Aunt Jean 
 theorized in general that she should some day die, as did 
 other mortals; but the prospect of death was not near 
 enough to set her at peace with all humankind, brothers 
 Matthew and John included. She summoned a lawyer and 
 had her will prepared and duly signed, and took care to 
 proclaim fully the manner of her last testament. She left 
 to each of her brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews, twenty 
 pounds to buy a mourning ring — except to the erring John 
 and Matthew, and their children. The remainder of her 
 property did Aunt Jean devise to the "Breetish Museum 
 Library, whar (to quote her own words)' nae doubt waur 
 bulks eneugh to teach people hoo properly to respec' their 
 elders." 
 
 Thus did Aunt Jean testify to her final rejection of her 
 family, her native place, and all Scottish institutions. 
 
 Uncle John heard the ncMS, and great was his disgust. 
 It was now needful that he should make his will, and pro- 
 claim its contents, that Aunt Jean might find him even 
 with her in the strife. Great was the debate in his heart 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 23 
 
 when he considered how he could outrival his excellent 
 sister; he was almost ready to order his body to be turned 
 into a mummy and devised to the Egyptian collection in 
 that famous Museum! What should he do? Uncle John 
 was resolved to leave his son and daughter '' forehanded 
 wi' the warld," and he would not bequeath from them one 
 hoof of his thoroughbreds, one horn of his choice cattle, 
 one "pund o' siller." Day after day he pondered, and 
 then the solution of his difficulty came in a great burst 
 of light; he leaped up, snapping his fingers, and cried: 
 "I hae it the noo! I will gie the manuscript to the 
 Breetish Museum." Forthwith a lawyer was summoned, 
 and a codicil added to my great-uncle's last will and tes- 
 tament — "The manuscrup sent frae America, to the Li- 
 brary o' the Breetish Museum." When I visited Scotland 
 I expected to find this famous manuscript of my great- 
 grandmother still in the hands of some one of the family, 
 and trusted that it might be bestowed upon me, at my re- 
 quest. Uncle John and Aunt Jean had long been buried, 
 and great Mas my chagrin to learn that the roll of paper, 
 valueless to any one but myself, had been done up in a 
 morocco case lined with silk and forwarded to the British 
 Museum. A year afterward, I entered the famous Library 
 as a constant reader, and when I had made acquaintance 
 with the ways of the place I looked for the family manu- 
 script; it was not down on the catalogue. I then applied 
 to the Librarian. A little discussion and research served 
 to recall the fact of Aunt Jean's legacy, but Uncle John's 
 bequest had been quite forgotten. When I explained that 
 the lost paper contained a bit of family history, with a 
 
24 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 few bints of the public affairs of a stirring time, those 
 most obliging of mortals, the Librarians, set themselves 
 to hunt it up. Two months passed; I had quite given 
 up all hopes of seeing the object of my desire, when one 
 morning the oldest Librarian came to my desk and whis- 
 pered triumphantly : " We have found that manuscript. 
 We got hold of it yesterday morning, and have cata- 
 logued it properly. So if you will come and make out a 
 f ticket you will have the paper in a few minutes." Ac- 
 cordingly, within half an hour, that Revolutionary relic 
 was laid on my desk. I turned over the yellow, faded, 
 dusty leaves, and meditated. "My great-grandmother was 
 remarkably persevering in journalizing." " They made 
 wonderfully strong paper and good ink in those times." 
 "Written with a quill." "Great-grandmother's chirog- 
 raphy was of the very best." "What is given to this 
 Museum is like time, or the spoken word, it can not be 
 recalled." " What a work to copy all this, when surely it 
 ought to be mine rather than the Museum's." I beck- 
 oned a Librarian: "Think I could buy this?" He shook 
 his head. This is as the lion's den — all steps point in, 
 none out. The manuscript would be valuable as a relic 
 of antiquity in the year 4000 or 5000 A. D. The Museum 
 must cherish it for the benefit of posterity. All readers 
 at the Museum are pledged not to peculate — in other 
 . words, not to secretly borrow for indefinite periods — any 
 of the books or manuscripts. Alas, that clause ! It com- 
 pelled me to copy my great-grandmother's history. 
 
 While I was thus copying, I laid on the manuscript 
 those ivory miniatures of great-grandmother and her 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 25 
 
 daughter, which had been sent to Scotland and returned 
 to me. 
 
 Pretty-faced great-grandmother! How strange that 
 this manuscript which you traced under apple-trees, and 
 in garrets, and by latticed windows; in joy, hope, fear, 
 
 wonder; in the din 
 of arms, in the mar- 
 V e 1 of a nation's 
 birth; in early love 
 and mature knowl- 
 edge, lies here ! And 
 here is the picture 
 of your child ; and 
 you and she have 
 grown old and wrin- 
 kled and turned to 
 dust; and I, your 
 descendant, after so 
 many years, sit in 
 this old-world tem- 
 ple of learning and copy the story you wrote when you and 
 the nation were yet young, and doubtful of your destiny ! 
 
 GRANDMOTHER'S MOTHER. 
 
 " Grandmother's mother ! her age I guess 
 Thirteen summers, or something less. 
 Girlish bust, but womanly air; 
 Smooth, square forehead, with uprolled hair; 
 Lips that lover has never kissed; 
 Taper fingers and slender wrist; 
 Hanging sleeves of stiiT brocade — 
 So they painted the little maid. 
 What if, one hundred years ago, 
 Those close-shut lips had answered No! 
 Should I be I? or would it be 
 One-tenth another to nine-tenths me? 
 
26 PATRIOT AND TORY : 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BEGINNING OF THE STORY. 
 
 May 12, 1773. 
 TTOW strange it must be to have lived one hundred 
 years — a whole century! If great-grandfather lives 
 until day after to-morrow — and of course he will — he 
 will be one hundred years old. Sujjpose I should live 
 that long, how would the world look, and how would peo- 
 ple dress, and what would be going on, and who would be 
 our king, one hundred years from to-day? Perhaps no- 
 body would be our king. I hear very strange talk from 
 those who come to see my grandfather. But how could 
 people get on then? A nation without a king seems to me 
 like a body without any head. To be sure there were the 
 old Greeks, and the Pomans of the Republic, and Eng- 
 land in Cromwell's time — but it did not last so very long; 
 and there is Holland — but that is the same. My uncle 
 from Philadelphia and my uncle from Virginia will be 
 here to-morrow, to keep great-grandfather's birthday. I 
 have helped grandmother make good things all the morn- 
 ing. After dinner I came out under the big apple-tree 
 in front of the house; it is so pretty here — the house 
 with its nice little windows winking in the sun, and the 
 high-peaked, mossy roof, and the bright red paint. I am 
 sure it is prettier than any of the pictures in my grand- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 27 
 
 mother's big Bible. The blue-birds are building a nest 
 here in the apple-tree, and the redbreasts are back — one 
 of them sits on the top of the well-sweep every day and 
 sings for ever so long. Great-grandfather says he is 
 praising God for fresh air and water, two things the dear 
 old man likes very much. 
 
 When I brought my knitting out here, great-grand- 
 father came and stood in the doorway, and he looked 
 very beautiful with the sun on his white head. I brought 
 his big oaken chair under the tree, and grandmother put 
 her best braided mat beneath his feet, and laid the big 
 wolf-skin robe over his lap; the skins are of the wolves 
 my father shot when he was a young man. I think he 
 must have been as great as Israel Putnam, whom my 
 grandfather often speaks of. When great-grandfather was 
 sitting here with me I began to talk to him. I know 
 how to do so now; once I did not. I used to talk to 
 him about the farm, and the school, and my uncles, and 
 the neighbors, and Dame Mercy Warren ; and he would 
 say, "Who? What?" He has lived so long that he for- 
 gets yesterday and to-day, and only remembers a long 
 while ago, unless you talk to him about the Bible, or the 
 old* country, or the good of the Colonies, especially this 
 of ]\Iassachusetts. So now when I talk to great-grand- 
 father I ask him about the old times, and the mother 
 country, and then he enjoys talking. To-day I said, 
 " Grandfother, vou have lived so long; that the world 
 must have changed very much since you came into it. 
 Don't you Avish you could remember way back to the time 
 when you were a little baby?" Yes, he said he did. 
 
28 
 
 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 There was many a scene he wished he coukl remember. 
 And of course I asked him, "What were they, grandfa- 
 ther?" He said, "Chikl, ye have heard of the Solemn 
 League and Covenant, signed by us Scots people on a 
 stone in Greyfriars Churchyard in Edinboro'? \Yell, 
 
 THE OLD FARM. 
 
 child, when that was signed my father was a child in his 
 mother's arms. "When my parents Avere young they were 
 of those who went by night to the conventicles, to worship 
 God in the glens and forests; their friends were the good 
 men who were hunted and killed like beasts on the mount- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 29 
 
 ains; and when I was a child they oft carried me with 
 them. I wish I could remember those times. Popish 
 James fled over seas when I was sixteen, and I stood 
 with my father and mother and elder brothers all day in 
 the High Street of Edinboro' waiting to hear the decision 
 of the convention upon the claims of James and William 
 to the throne. I can remember, child, the great crowd in 
 the street, and how children were set npon their fathers' 
 shoulders to keep them from being crushed by the crowd. 
 And then I remember a shout, that seemed to shake the 
 very skies ; and I saw my mother and other women crying 
 and waving handkerchiefs, and heard my father and 
 brothers cheering, and I saw the crowd divide, and the 
 great nobles and the Lord Provost and the heralds passing 
 along High Street. Ah, child, it was a grand sight, and a 
 proclamation of liberty to the captive, and opening of 
 prison to them that had been bound, and the coming of 
 the acceptable year of the Lord. I would I had been a 
 little older then, and able better to help on the good time, 
 or old enough to go to London and get a look at William, 
 of glorious and immortal memory!" 
 
 "But, grandfather," I said, "suppose that convention 
 had decided in favor of King James ? " 
 
 "The Western Covenanters were there," said grand- 
 father, " and they would have risen to a man and led Scot- 
 land to religious liberty. Wonder it is that they saw the 
 murderer of the saints, Dundee, daily in the streets and 
 withheld their hands; it was God's grace in them. My 
 own father had an account to settle with him, for he 
 killed father's only brother; but he left it to be reckoned 
 
30 P^ TBIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 for at God's bar, and that is well : it is written, ' Vengeance 
 is mine, I will repay, saitli the Lord.' " 
 
 " But, grandfather," I said again, " very many of the 
 Scots were loyal to the Stuarts. I have read that Scotland 
 was their hope and stronghold." 
 
 " Yes, child," said grandfather, " many Scots were loyal, 
 to their own destruction, to the Stuarts — loyal to them 
 rather than to God. But, child, my fathers Avere of a 
 race who knew no loyalty to a king who was not loyal to 
 God. We honor the king in the ways of righteousness. 
 Kings are set to defend the liberty of subjects, and to lead 
 nations in holiness and justice; and when they fail there 
 they forfeit the crown. It was thus the Scottish Estates 
 decided in the convention I told ye of" 
 
 " People could be loyal but to few kings, grandfather," 
 I said, "if only to such as you describe. Dame Mercy 
 Warren said yesterday that kings generally supposed the 
 people were made for them." 
 
 " Na, na," said grandfather, "kings are made for the 
 people. The Princes of Orange have always held that 
 doctrine." 
 
 " It is a pity, grandfather," said I, " that you Scotchmen 
 had to go to Holland to find kings with right views. You 
 have been unlucky in your kings, have you not?" 
 
 " Well, ray girl," grandfather said, " belike it was to set 
 our allegiance dboon all earthly princes, and fix our hearts 
 on King Jesus. I have often thought of they old days 
 when Jehovah alone was king over Israel, and I have 
 wished that here in this new country such a government 
 could be set up, with no king but Christ." 
 
0^'E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 31 
 
 Grandfather had come out to see if great-grandfather 
 were not tired of being under the apple-tree, and he said 
 to this, " The world is too corrupt for that, father. If we 
 had no king here we would have some other form of gov- 
 ernment tainted with human evil and avarice — the few 
 strong lording it over the many weak." 
 
 And just here we heard a laugh, and that clear voice of 
 Dame Warren, crying out, "But, sir, it would be as your 
 cousin wrote us from London, that Sir Robert AValpole said 
 we would 'be taxed more agreeably to our constitution 
 and laws.^ We might more peacefully endure our own 
 errors in government than other people's." 
 
 Grandfather shook his head. I suppose all ministers 
 
 should feel as he does. He quoted the Psalmist, " I am for 
 
 peace ; but when I speak they are for war." He then took 
 
 great-grandfather's arm to help him to the house, and Dame 
 
 Warren stopped to take the cushion and mat. She said to 
 
 me, "Why so grave, Abbey — what troubles you?" I 
 
 laughed, it seemed so foolish ; but I can always speak to 
 
 Dame Mercy Warren. I said, " It seems to me so quiet 
 
 out here ; life is as still as a mill-pond. We have only the 
 
 change from the white snow that falls in winter, to the 
 
 pink snow from the apple-trees in spring, and the brown 
 
 snow of the dead leaves in' autumn. My great-grandfather 
 
 has been telling me about times when he was young, when 
 
 great events happened, and even girls and children had a 
 
 part in them, and there was something worth living for. I 
 
 would like my life to be not like the mill-pond, but like 
 
 Cape Cod Bay out here — sometimes bright and shiny with 
 
 the sun, and sometimes wild and stirring and strono-, as 
 3 
 
32 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 when the storms are out and the waves beat against the 
 coast ! " Then Dame Warren looked earnestly at me for a 
 moment, standing there ; she was under the apple-tree, with 
 the wolf-skin robe over her arms and grandmother's braided 
 mat in her hand, and she said, " Child, if you were out on 
 our bay in a storm you would wish for the mill-pond. So 
 in the stir of war you may come to long for peace. Your 
 great-grandfather lived in days that were wonderful and 
 troubled and mighty in result, but you may live in days 
 that are greater still." 
 
 I hardly knew what she meant, but I went on with my 
 own thoughts. " And I can not get grandfather to tell 
 me all about those days, nor how he felt and talked. I 
 wish he had spent part of his time in writing a story for 
 
 " So Dame AVarren laughed again, and said, " Child, tlie 
 story of each generation will be history to those that come 
 after. Do you in your leisure hours write a book of your 
 days, and what you say and do, for there may be greater 
 days than you imagine." 
 
 I replied, " Oh, I have written of my days often, and it 
 is such silly stuff: ' The blue-birds are building their nest. 
 The robins have hatched their young. The apples are ripe ; 
 and now the winter storms are all along the coast !'" 
 
 " Keep on," said Dame Warren, " and the little song about 
 the birds may grow into the greater poem : the tragedy, 
 as Shakespeare wrote, of life and death, and heart-break ; 
 or the story of a Milton, how angels fell from heaven." 
 
 Just then out came grandmother, crying, " Dame 
 Warren! come in, will you, and have a c — some supper!" 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 33 
 
 I know why grandmother stopped. We had no tea. We 
 used the last a week ago. Grandfather has scruples about 
 using smuggled tea, for he says it comes like the water from 
 the well of Bethlehem to David — at the risk of men's lives ; 
 and he will not use the taxed tea, for he thinks the tax is 
 wrong. 
 
 May 13, 1773. 
 
 Last night as we were sitting by the door in the twilight 
 I was thinking of great-grandfather, and all the wonderful 
 changes that he could remember, and I said to grand- 
 mother : " I wonder how he came to live so long." 
 
 "Because he was godly, child," says she; "godliness is 
 the best thing for preserving life that I know of." 
 
 "But were not my father and mother godly?" I said, 
 " and they died young ; and so did my mother's mother, 
 and so shall I." 
 
 " Why, how is this ? " said grandfather ; " what is my 
 little girl talking about? Your father, my child, died not 
 in the course of nature, but in strife with the Indians in 
 Pontiac's War. Your mother was born in England, and our 
 climate in America doubtless shortened the lives of her 
 mother and herself. But you are in your native land, and 
 are not likely to be injured by causes which affected them. 
 My little girl must not be melancholy. You are, perhaps, 
 too much with grown people, and we are dull company. 
 You must have y6ung companions." 
 
 Grandmother said that there were few young folks near 
 us, and she did not believe in girls running about. 
 
 " Then," said grandfather, patting my head, " I must 
 cheer you up with a present. Once you could be made to 
 
34 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 rejoice at a wooden doll or a ginger-bread horse; but you 
 are too old for that now. What shall I give you?" 
 
 I said I wished he would give me some paper — a great 
 deal of paper — so that I could put down all that I saw or 
 heard. Grandmother said paper cost too much money to 
 be used in recording nonsense. But grandfather said it 
 was never nonsense to make people happier. Then he 
 Avent to his desk and took out the package of paper which 
 Deacon Dana brought him last month from Boston, and he 
 gave me half of it. I think he is a very good grandfather ! 
 When I bid him good-night — it was almost eight o'clock, 
 a little later than common — he said : " Cheer up and be 
 hearty, my little Abbey. I have no doubt that you will 
 live to be a grandmother" — but, of course, that is quite 
 impossible. This morning as soon as it was light I rose, 
 so that I could iron my white apron, which I am to wear 
 with my new calico dress this evening when our friends 
 come from Philadelphia. One has to be dressed pretty well 
 to see people from such great cities. 
 
 Before I had heated the irons sufficiently, my grand- 
 mother beckoned me into the pantry, and said to me : 
 "Abbey, your great-grandfather says nothing, but I know 
 he is pining after his tea. A man of his age can not go 
 v>-itliout what he has been accustomed to without being- 
 hurt l)y it. I promised your grandfather that I would buy 
 no tea when ours was gone, as I must get either taxed or 
 smuggled, and both alike evil. Now I want you to run 
 to the field for a horse, and before the others are up, ride 
 over to Mrs. Brown's and tell her that I should like to 
 make her a present of my red scarf from India, if she has 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEABS AGO. 35 
 
 a mind to make me a present of a package of tea for grand- 
 father's use, and that the flavor of the tea will be better the 
 less I know about where it came from." 
 
 "It is sure to be smuggled or taxed/' I said. 
 
 " Taxed or smuggled/' said grandmother, " the rest of us 
 will have only hot water in our cups ; but the good old man 
 shall not die for a spoonful of tea, while I can help it." 
 
 Dear me ! I thought grandmother would die rather than 
 ask a favor of Mrs. Brown, and that she would be cut in 
 pieces rather than give up the India scarf which her only 
 broth'cr brouG:ht her the vovag-e before he was drowned. 
 Well, grandmother is a very good woman, for all she is so 
 sharp sometimes. 
 
 I ran out to the lot and caught old Maple, and put a 
 halter on him, and with grandmother's big calico pocket 
 hung at my waist, to carry the scarf and bring back the 
 tea, off I went a flittle after sunrise, and it was as nice a 
 morning ride as ever I had. As I rode along, I saw our 
 neighbors out in the fields planting corn. Dame Warren 
 said to me the other day that I might live in as great times 
 as the old grandfather did; but it takes heroes to make great 
 times, and these men do not look like heroes, only like 
 every-day fathers, and uncles and cousins. It seems to me 
 that the Covenanters of the Avest country, who stood in 
 Edinboro' ready to fight or die, must some way have looked 
 larger and grander than these men, out in the dewy fields 
 with the early sunlight shining on their home-braided straw 
 hats, Avith blue home-spun shirts, and gray home-spun 
 trousers, and stockings knit of black yarn, and heavy shoes, 
 all mud, and planting-bags hung at their waists. No one 
 
36 P-i TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 need tell me; heroes are dead, and I live a long while too 
 late, and all the men that do wonderful deeds, and that 
 history is written about, are born no more, unless among 
 the lords and ladies and counts and princes, in the old 
 world. I shall never let Dame Warren see that line. 
 As I passed Isaiah Hooper he was out in his field, and 
 he called to me to ask if all was well; he thought old 
 grandfather might be poorly, and that perhaps I went 
 for the doctor. Isaiah Hooper is an every-day sort of 
 man ; he only thinks of plowing, and planting, and crops, 
 and on Sundays of the sermon, though I believe he thinks 
 of religion all the time, for he said he should come to see 
 our srrandfather on his birthday, and that a hoary head 
 was a crown of glory if found in the way of righteous- 
 ness. Then he told me he hoped the Lord would send 
 heavy crops, for there might, before long, be fewer men 
 to till the soil, and he added there was a promise of 
 swords being turned into plowshares, l)ut that was far 
 away ; and he thought that first the plowshares would 
 be turned into swords. 
 
 I was sorry when I reached ]\Iistress Brown's. She 
 examined every inch of the scarf, as if grandmother 
 would cheat her; and oh! how little tea she gave for 
 such a scarf! I took pains to tell her that only great- 
 grandfather would use the bohea, and that he quite forgot 
 each day the controversy upon the tax. Said Mistress 
 Brown : 
 
 " If it -were not for folk like your grand'-ther and 
 grandmother there would be an end to this trouble about 
 tea and taxes and all that. I don't see how reasonable 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 37 
 
 folk with money in hand will sit and drink hyperion 
 or go abont in homespnn. How many yards did your 
 mother spin last year?" 
 
 Mistress Brown's little black eyes do vex me so. They 
 bore into one just like a gimlet when she asks a question. 
 
 "She spins all we use," I said. 
 
 Then she told how Mistress Partridge had woven three 
 coverlids and four hundred yards of cloth this year past. 
 
 "And how much did you say your people use in a 
 year?" says Mistress Brown. 
 
 "All that grandmother spins," I told her, and made 
 haste to get back to old Maple, who was biting the fence 
 rails as if they were INIistress Brown. I was home by 
 breakfast-time, and great-grandfather had his tea. Grand- 
 father sniffed and smelled at the table ; he caught the fra- 
 grance of that cup of bohea. I handed him my cup, and 
 there were only raspberry leaves in that, and then grand- 
 mother smiled and held out hers. He came to the pantry 
 after breakfast and said he hoped we had not })een buy- 
 ing any tea. Grandmother told him no, and then con- 
 cluded to let him know how she had traded the scarf. 
 He shook his head a little doubtfully, but I think she 
 did right. 
 
 We had dinner at eleven, and then grandmother put 
 on her dark-red flowered satin gown with the Brussels 
 lace in the neck and sleeves; she had it when she was 
 married, thirty years ago, to grandfather ; being his second 
 wife, she is only ten years older than my father Avas, 
 who was grandfather's only child. When grandmother is 
 dressed in her satin gown with the string of gold beads 
 
38 P^i TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 about her neck, and her pin of garnets and diamonds, 
 I think she looks very handsome. Great-grandfather 
 wore his damask gown; grandmother has taken out the 
 silk lining and put squirrels' skins in instead. She made 
 me a Sunday pelisse out of the silk. I think my grand- 
 father is the best looking man near here. He wore the 
 broadcloth coat and breeches that came, ten years past, 
 from London, and a round velvet cap instead of his wig. 
 Grandmother had enibroided his vest, and his ruffles were 
 nearly a quarter of a yard deep. 
 
 But then our company came. Uncle John Temple and 
 Uncle Matthew Temple ; and with them a friend of my 
 Uncle John — Mr. Seaforth. Mr. Seaforth wore his wig 
 powdered, and gathered behind in a black-silk bag; but 
 my uncles had theirs in a long queue, with a bow of black 
 ribbon. Mr. Seaforth looked very splendid. His coat 
 and breeches were of blue velvet; his vest was swans- 
 down in buff stripes; and he had carbuncles set in his 
 knee-buckles. My uncles wore brown cloth and figured 
 satin vests. They had big pearl buttons on their clothes, 
 such as I never saw before. James Warren, and Dame 
 Mercy, and Deacon Dana, and Isaiah Hooper, and some 
 others, came early, and we had supper at five, and drank 
 great-grandfather's health in a big bowl of punch, out 
 of the bowl that came from London. They talked about 
 the cities, and Mr. Seaforth said that he paid thirty shil- 
 lings for a ticket to a ball ; and LTnclc John said that his 
 friend John Livingstone, of New York, merchant, told 
 him it cost a thousand dollars to live there in good style. 
 I do not know what we shall do if thino;s become so ex- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 39 
 
 pensive. After supper we still sat at the table. I sup- 
 pose grandmother would have sent me away, only grand- 
 father kept me by him. The talk was all about the state 
 of a fall's. 
 
 May 14, 1773. 
 
 I could not put down yesterday all that was said at the 
 table about affairs in this country. I found that there 
 were many opinions on the question of what we should 
 do. My uncles, and INIr. Warren, and Dame Mercy are 
 all agreed, but Mr. Seaforth says he will hold to the 
 mother country to the last breath; and grandfather fears 
 we shall be too hasty and not count the cost. James 
 Warren, and the Dame, and my two uncles are for a 
 republic, while Deacon Dana and Isaiah Hooper are look- 
 ing for a Cromwell of the Colonies, and some think we 
 shall find him in the Adamses, or in Otis, aiid others in 
 Patrick Henry. I can not remember how the political 
 talk began, but Isaiah Hooper said to my Uncle John 
 Temple : 
 
 "What are you doing in Pennsylvania?" 
 
 And both my uncles struck the table hard and said, in 
 a breath : 
 
 " We are preparing for tear ! " 
 
 Grandfather said : " INIy brothers, no man goeth wisely 
 to war unless first he sitteth down and countetli the cost." 
 
 "The balance of cost would be in our favor," said Mr. 
 Warren. "We would fight for our own hearths and fami- 
 lies, in sight of them! And the king's troops would be in 
 a foreign land. We could fight for a principle to a man; 
 but tlie hearts of many of the royal troops would be with 
 
40 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 US, and many more would be indiiferent. Again, we 
 should be in the midst of our supplies, and the king must 
 send clothes, and food, and pay, three thousand miles over 
 sea. Chances are for us, minister." 
 
 " It was not that cost which I meant," said grandfather. 
 " We should, if we went to war, be arrayed against our 
 own blood. Wherever victory went, victory would be 
 clad in mourning because brothers on either side had been 
 slain by brothers. We should be armed against our best 
 friends, for however the British Government may treat us, 
 we know that that Government has never adequately rep- 
 resented the people, and the great heart of the Commons 
 is with us ; then we must turn against our best defenders, 
 as Burke, and Walpole, and Pitt, and Barre." 
 
 " You touch the very root of controversy," said James 
 Warren. " You say the Government has never adequately 
 represented the Commons of England ; how can it, then, 
 represent the Commons of America? We are all Com- 
 mons here. We have a diiferent nationalty, different 
 objects, a diiferent future; and we are to be governed by 
 men who can not understand us, our country, or our 
 future ; men who have no sympathy with our feelings, 
 no desire for our advancement ; men for the most part 
 totally opposed to the principles whereon our Colonies 
 are founded. The Home Government is trying to keep a 
 full-grown giant in swaddling-bands and leading-strings. 
 Whatever we owed England we paid long ago." 
 
 " I admit all the misconception, all the arrogance, all 
 the obstinacy that is charged on His Majesty's Govern- 
 ment," said my grandfather. But I see in Britain the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 41 
 
 great champion nation of Protestantism and education, 
 and I look with horror on a war between ourselves and 
 the one nation knit to us by blood, by religion, by all 
 our past history. I fear that when vcq and England are 
 weakened by a long, fierce war we shall be seized in our 
 exhaustion and overcome by mutual foes, and that popery 
 will regain its prestige by our strife. 
 
 "We must leave those distant results with God," said 
 Uncle John. " I believe that we shall conquer a peace 
 which shall be lasting, and end in mutual respect. Re- 
 leased from those leading-strings which Mr. Warren spoke 
 of, we shall become desirable and worthy allies of Eng- 
 land, and shall present a solid front of opposition to super- 
 stition and despotism. After the affairs of the Gaspe 
 and the Boston Massacre, and after such iniquitous legis- 
 lation as gave us the Writs of Assistance, and the Stamp 
 Act, and the contempt of our chartered rights of trial in 
 our own country, what recourse have the " Sons of Lib- 
 erty" but M-ar? What pledge have we that, unrepresented 
 as we are in the Government, and toys of foreigners' 
 will, we shall not find some day a re-enactment of Charles 
 Second's wild charter, and ourselves and our heirs con- 
 demned to be ' leet men forever f ' " 
 
 "We take our stand on this," said Uncle Matthew 
 Temple: "No taxation without representation! If tuxes 
 are a fovor bestowed by British Commons on the King, 
 why are they a tril)ute demanded and wrested nolens voleus 
 from the American Commons?" 
 
 "The fact is," said Mercy Warren, "the Colonies have 
 grown into a powerful and distinct nation, and the mother 
 
42 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 country does not know it, nor are we half conscious of it 
 ourselves. The ties that held our grand-parents to Eng- 
 land hold us to this land of our birth. Three millions of 
 people, a country unlimited in resources and of almost in- 
 calculable extent, and an army of two hundred thousand 
 men, can not be treated as a mere handful of slaves, gov- 
 erned by foreigners, taxed by foreigners, legislated for by 
 foreigners. The need and ability of self-government are 
 in us." 
 
 "Madame," said Mr. Seaforth, "it pains me deeply to 
 hear you call the English foreigners. They are our kins- 
 men in the flesh and our brethren in the Church." 
 
 " That is all true," said Dame Warren, " and yet, to all 
 intents and purposes of government, they are foreigners, 
 just as the French and Germans are." 
 
 " I hope and pray," said grandfather, " that England 
 will yet be brought to a right mind in these matters, and 
 that to us of the Colonies will be given a spirit of peace 
 and conciliation, and that riot and bitterness will be un- 
 known." 
 
 " Sirs," said Isaiah Hooper, " we have lost faith in Eng- 
 land, and in the promises of our king. New England is 
 as keen of wit as Old England. Why are British soldiers 
 left here ? To coerce us ! Let us meet distrust with dis- 
 trust. Why was Boston blockaded in time of peace? We 
 asked of our fatherland bread, and we have been given a 
 stone. We see that a North can succeed to a Chatham. 
 If we would be well governed let us govern ourselves ! 
 Our future wealth will lie in trade, and in trade we are 
 limited and hindered. We are to have no market but 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 43 
 
 England, purchase no goods but from England. Let us 
 break loose from England, and the world will be our 
 market ! " 
 
 "Sir," cried Mr. Seaforth, "you do not speak for us 
 all — not for me. I may have lost some faith in the wis- 
 dom of my king, but I have not lost my loyalty. His 
 Majesty may not be doing all the part of a beneficent 
 sovereign, but that will not clear me from doing all my 
 duty as a subject. Two wrongs, sir, will not make a 
 right. I believe that if there is any erring in our king, it 
 is in his head and not in his heart. He may be mistaken; 
 he is not corrupt. Do you feel sure that in rejecting the 
 present government we should make a good exchange? 
 The English Parliament has been for centuries the world's 
 noblest exponent of government, and what improvement 
 on that will be an unlettered mob? If we cut ourselves 
 loose from England, our future government may be led, 
 as was the Boston mob of 1770, by a mulatto, whose only 
 advantage was muscle. I, sir, come of a family which 
 survived the persecutions in the Wealden of Kent, and 
 came out of them loyal, although we had members who 
 perished at the stake. Men may err, but monarchy is 
 divine. The history of the world shows that monarchy is 
 the only fit and stable form of government." 
 
 " For my part," said Uncle Matthew, " I hold that this 
 is the proper land of free speech, and I honor the man 
 who speaks out his honest mind. I respect your opinions, 
 though I do not .share them. Virginia, sir, goes with 
 Pennsylvania and Massachusetts. All the Colonies are a 
 unit, though in all thcro are many honorable men of your 
 
44 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 mind, whom we regret do not think with us. I was in the 
 House of Burgesses in Virginia when Patrick Henry cried, 
 ' Csesar had his Brutus, Charles his Cromwell, and George 
 
 the Third — may 
 profit by their 
 examples!' Ah, 
 sirs, all our 
 hearts went with 
 him." 
 
 "It is true," 
 said Mr. Sea- 
 forth,"thatCffi- 
 sar had a Bru- 
 tus, but — the 
 Romans raised 
 a pillar to Cse- 
 sar, inscribed 
 'To the flither 
 of his country;' and after him came Augustus. Charles 
 had a Cromwell ; but after Cromwell a second Charles. 
 What did it profit ? ' The powers that be are ordained 
 of God.' True, primarily they are ordained for a terror 
 to evil doers, and a praise to them that do well ; and 
 frequently they come short of this, but that does not 
 release subjects from duty nor justify anarchy and regi- 
 cide. David's cause was righteous, but he would not lift 
 up his hand against the Lord's anointed, nor u-'ill J/" 
 
 There was a silence all around the table. Then Uncle 
 John reached over and shook Mr. Seaforth's hand. 
 He said : 
 
 PATRICK HENRY. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 45 
 
 " Old friend, here is the bitterness of civil war : that 
 brothers in heart, like yon and I, find their consciences 
 placing- them on different sides of a qnestion. Yet, 
 Harry, however politics may divide ns, personally you 
 and I will be David and Jonathan, as we have ever 
 been. I shall never forget that when I and mine lay 
 as dying from yellow fever, you stood by us night and 
 day. 'Thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love 
 of woman.'" 
 
 Mr. Seaforth shook my great-uncle's hand heartily, 
 saying : 
 
 " Xor shall I forget that you, John, risked once your 
 whole fortune to save mine." 
 
 Dame Warren wiped her eyes, quite secretly, and 
 grandmother looked away for several minutes. Then 
 great-grandfather stood up, and taking his velvet cap 
 off his bald head, lifted both hands to heaven and said : 
 
 "Thou, Lord, dost know that from a child I have 
 lived in wars; but now am I very old. Bring out t? 
 these controversies the advancement of Thy holy king- 
 dom ; and if wars must come, let Thy servant be taken 
 to Thee before that evil day when the brother shall de- 
 liver the brother to death, and the father the child." 
 
 After supper the day was so fair that the company 
 M-ent on the porch before the door. I stopped to help 
 grandmother; but she said I was in her way, and that 
 Pompey and Xervey were all the help she needed, so I 
 went with the rest, and found ^Iv. Seaforth taking a 
 brighter view, and saying that the London merchants 
 would never i)ermit war, fur that the Colonies owed 
 
46 
 
 PATRIOT ASn TORY 
 
 them five millions of pounds, and that trade with the 
 Colonies was their greatest source of wealth ; therefore, 
 all their influence would be for a recognition of Colonial 
 
 rights and 
 for peace. He 
 appealed to 
 great-grand- 
 father, but 
 he shook his 
 head, saying: 
 "God has 
 given me a 
 century to 
 w a t c h the 
 progress of 
 ideas, and I 
 see plainly 
 that as this 
 nation w a s 
 jilanted in a 
 spirit of in- 
 depend e n c e 
 and self-gov- 
 e r n m e n t — 
 on the idea 
 o f popular 
 
 privileges and restriction of royal prerogative, it will 
 carry on its views of national and chartered rights to 
 the entire independence of the Colonies." 
 
 THE THIRTEEN COLONIES. 
 
0^'E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 47 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 May 21, 1773. 
 TT took me one or two days to write all the talk about 
 politics ; and indeed I carried my paper once or twice 
 to grandfather, to see if I had it quite right. I wanted 
 to put something solid in my journal. That day after 
 dinner Dame Warren said to me: 
 
 "You are a good listener and a close observer, Abbey. 
 Are you putting down what goes on day by day?" 
 
 I blushed quite red as I was obliged to answer: 
 
 "Yes, Madam Warren. But — oh, dear! — it is all about 
 dress, and so on." 
 
 She laughed, saying: 
 
 "Well, even our dress may be historic. Keep on. 
 Abbey. Perhaps I shall write a history of these days, 
 and who knows but I may come to your journal for in- 
 formation ! " 
 
 She never will. The idea of Dame Warren, forty-five 
 
 years old, and so very wise, ever asking information of 
 
 little Abbey Temple ! However, I shall put down all the 
 
 great things that I hear; and this talk among our guests 
 
 is better than all that about their clothes. Grandmother 
 
 is fearful that I spend too much time with books and 
 
 paper. She says that I do not spin and knit and weave 
 
 enough. Now that we are pledged not to use English 
 4 
 
48 • PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 goods, we women and girls must supply our own mar- 
 kets, and grandmother has been talking with my uncles, 
 and she, and Isaiah Hooper's wife, and other women of 
 grandfather's congregation, are going to weave quantities 
 of blankets. I wish they would not. I hate to spin. 
 When I am walking up and down in that long garret, 
 by the wheel, how I envy every spider that is making 
 a web out of doors, and all the birds, and all the 
 boats — tiny specks, dancing far out on the Bay. But 
 there is no use of saying any thing if grandmother has 
 once made up her mind. However, there has been no 
 time for spinning and weaving while our guests have 
 been with us. On the day after grandfather's birth-day 
 I went out quite soon after breakfast with my knitting 
 to the apple-tree; and I sat so deeply thinking that I 
 noticed no one near until a bunch of leaves hit my 
 cheek; then looking up I saw in the boughs Thomas 
 Otis, a far-oif cousin of Dame Warren's, who is passing 
 the Spring at her house. Thomas had been sent by the 
 dame to say that we should all take our supper with her 
 on the morrow. I went with Thomas to speak with 
 grandmother, and then he said he was to stop all day. 
 Thomas is the only young person who comes here, except 
 the two small children of Isaiah Hooper, and Hannah, 
 the daughter of Deacon Dana. I do not love Hannah 
 very greatly, for she feels older than my great-grand- 
 father, and always watches for opportunity to reprove 
 me. 
 
 Grandmother would not permit so dreadful a creature 
 as a boy to be around for a moment did he belong to 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 49 
 
 any less a person than Dame Warren. Thomas is so 
 funny; he pretended that he thought grandmother was 
 very pleased to have him come stay. He offered to help 
 her get the vegetables ready for dinner; and he made 
 Pompey and Nervey laugh so much by telling what the 
 boys did in school at Hartford that grandmother said 
 we had better go off somewhere. I seldom get a 
 chance to go out of the house-yard except to church. 
 We went to the fields to see the sheep. The flock is 
 now getting quite numerous; for, as the Assembly have 
 recommended that Ave use no sheep for meat, but keep 
 all for wool, we are raising more lambs. We then went 
 off to the coast. The mile seemed very short, we en- 
 joyed the walk so much. We rowed out on the Bay 
 and fished, and when we came in-shore we caught three 
 lobsters on the rocks and took them home for Mr. Sea- 
 forth, who is fond of such things. When we got home 
 dinner was cleared away, for grandmother says a table 
 should never be kept waiting for young folk. We would 
 have gone hungry after our long walk, but for Nervey. 
 She said to us: 
 
 "You chilluns run see ef dem pesky hens nebber laid 
 nuffin to-day up de mow." 
 
 She rolled her eyes so funny at me that I pulled 
 Tom's sleeve, and off we went. We climed up the mow, 
 and there was the nicest place made, and a clean cloth 
 spread, and a dish of fried chicken, custard pies, and 
 biscuits. My, they tasted good! And out of the win- 
 dow where the sun came in we could look over to the 
 porch of the house; and there sat grandmother knitting, 
 
50 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 with her head held very high, thinking, I dare say, what 
 a good lesson on punctuality she had given us children. 
 We did not talk very loud, but Thomas told me how, 
 if there is a war, he shall go, and how he will fight and 
 never fly, and rush into battle shouting " Victory or 
 death ! " I think it is horrid to be a girl and able only 
 to stay at home and spin. Thomas said he never should 
 forget me, and when he went to war I was to give him 
 a lock of my hair, and if he was found dead on the 
 field it would be with that in his hand ; and I might be 
 sure about it, for he never would take any lock of hair 
 but mine. He stood uj^on the mow (after he had eaten 
 all the dinner), and was just showing how he would or- 
 der the British troops to surrender, when he stepped 
 too fir over and fell into old Maple's stall below with 
 such a crack that he broke the manger. AVe then went 
 into the orchard, and Thomas put me up a swing. 
 Grandmother was especially vexed about that when she 
 knew it. She said that I was not half womanly enough, 
 and that she knew not wliatever would become of me. Mr. 
 Seaforth took my part a little. He is such a gentleman ! 
 He said that his wife thought it not well for little girls 
 to grow up too soon, but liked for them to get health 
 and good spirits in their young days. 
 
 "As the twig is bent the tree is inclined," quoth 
 grandmother; "and if we would have women we must 
 have womanly little girls. The world would soon go a 
 begging for lack of such women as Dame AVarren." 
 
 "Forsooth, so it has always," said Uncle John, "there 
 are not many like Mistress Mercy AVarren, nor many 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 51 
 
 men to match such women; for the most part the worki 
 is made of poorer stuff than the Otis family." 
 
 The next morning, after worship, while Xervey and 
 Pompey were bringing in breakfast, they spoke of going 
 to Mr. Warren's, and lo ! grandmother said I was to stop 
 at home. " She did not favor girls gadding about." Oh, 
 I felt like crying, yet was ashamed; still the cry rose in 
 my throat and made a great noise therein. I sat behind 
 great-grandfather. He has his second sight and second 
 hearing too; and he caught the sound I made in my 
 throat striving not to cry, so he said. 
 
 " Na, na, my daughter, it is nae gadding aboot to go wi' 
 her forbears like we, to see the dame. Let the lassie go ; 
 she is fit company for an auld man like me." 
 
 Sometimes great-grandfather talks very broad Scotch. 
 So grandmother said : 
 
 " If you want her along, father, that is another thing. 
 Children should ever pleasure their parents." 
 
 Great-grandfather said to me softly : 
 
 "The grandmother does not remember what pleases a 
 child, because she is old, yet not old enough for second 
 childhood, like me. Come with us then the day, lassie. 
 You will be lonely enough when the old man is taken 
 away. But dinna greet, lassie, I '11 speak a w^ord for you 
 to the grandfather before I go home." Then, as if he 
 feared I would think hard of grandmother, he said: ^'But 
 the grandmother is a woman among a thousand, and has 
 a heart of gold." He would say so all the more if he 
 knew about the scarf and the tea; but I dare not tell. 
 
 "We had a very nice day at Dame Warren's, and there 
 
52 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 was much talk about the mother country, and all wishing 
 for peace and just views, but my uncles and the Warrens, 
 doubting that the Parliament and the King would yield 
 the claimed right of taxing, and would put us all on the 
 same footing as people at home — I mean in England. 
 
 Mr. Seaforth stopped till after Sunday to hear grand- 
 father preach. Mr. Seaforth goes to Mr. Duche's church 
 
 grandfather's church. 
 
 in Philadelphia, but says he likes to hear Mr. Wither- 
 spoon preach, and he liked grandfather. The text was: 
 "Thou hast trodden down all them that err from Thy 
 statutes;" and the subject was: "The law of God con- 
 tained in the Scriptures indispensable to the prosperity 
 and perpetuity of a nation." Grandfather always expects 
 me to give him text, subject, and heads of all the sermons 
 on Sunday. When he has twelve or fourteen heads it is 
 very troublesome to remember them all; but Sunday he 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 53 
 
 did not have so many, and it was easy to remember, for 
 all that he said was so very good. Grandfather said that 
 the foundations of this country were laid on the Bible as 
 a corner-stone; that our Pilgrim Fathers came here to be 
 able to worship God in freedom of conscience, enlight- 
 ened by His Word. He said that only by adhering 
 closely to Bible principles could we be able to have a 
 clear path and an honorable record in the troubled times 
 we are entering; that only as we held to the teachings of 
 the Bible could we expect the blessing of God; and that 
 if we cut loose from the Bible we would fall into an- 
 archy and be a mob of desperadoes, and not a nation of 
 patriots. He said there was no true patriotism except in 
 Bible Christianity. All that was called patriotism in ir- 
 religion was selfishness and private ambition. He said 
 the Bible must be the Instructor of our children, the guide 
 of our youth, the staff of old age, the law of lawgivers, 
 and the rule of rulers, and that it must be first in the pul- 
 pit, first in the school, first in legislation ; and if it ceased 
 to be that, infidelity, and superstition, and party corrup- 
 tion would destroy the land. If w^e yielded one jot of the 
 prestige of the Bible, or in the least despised its claim as 
 the man of our counsel and the protector of our liberties, 
 then we would be ungrateful to God, who had led us in 
 this New World's wilderness, recreant to the teachings and 
 example of our fathers, and forfeit our future prosperity. 
 Every body said it was a very good sermon. But what 
 else could my grandfather preach? 
 
 Mr. Seaforth went to Boston on Monday. He has busi- 
 ness there. Also, my uncles left for Cambridge, but will 
 
54 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 be back again before they return home. Before they left 
 they all went to great-grandfather to say good-bye, and 
 they asked him for his blessing. It was a very solemn 
 sight I thought — those three gray-haired men (I would 
 call them old anywhere but by great-grandfather,) bend- 
 ing their heads for his blessing. They are tall men 
 enough, but great-grandfather was taller — ^he seems almost 
 like a giant when he draws himself up — and he rose to his 
 full height, and spread out his hands, and said, like old 
 Jacob : " God, who fed me all my life long until this day, 
 the angel which redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads, 
 and let them grow to a multitude in the midst of the 
 earth." From that great distance of his century, my 
 great-grandfather looks at all of us as about of one age, 
 I think. I am sure he talks with me just as Avith the 
 others. 
 
 JcNE, 1773. 
 
 One day goes by exactly like another. I have my les- 
 sons with grandfather, and Nervey, our black Avoman, 
 teaches me to cook and bake. I am raising forty chick- 
 ens, and I work in my garden every day. Pompey made 
 me a border for flowers Avhen he made the vegetable 
 garden, and I have marigolds and sweet-pea, hollyhocks, 
 and pinks, and violets. The rose-trees that climb on the 
 front porch are all in blossom; the bees are very busy, 
 and Pompey has braided four new straAv hives. The blue- 
 birds have hatched their young, and a lovely wood-pigeon 
 has made a nest in the apple-tree, and sits all day with her 
 pretty little brown head rising out of her rough nest. 
 
 Great-grandfather likes more than ever to sit talking to 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 55 
 
 me under the apple-tree, and that gets me free of many an 
 hour's spinning. I see a change in his talk. He tells 
 more and more about his early days. Yesterday he told 
 me all about the battle of Bothwell Bridge, at which his 
 father was present; and about Aird's Moss, where his 
 cousin was killed beside Hichard Cameron. He told me 
 also about the repeating of the Sanquhar Declaration, 
 when James Second came to the throne; and about Mrs. 
 Mitchell, whose husband was executed for his religion; 
 and as he told of one and another who fought and died, 
 and of the pitiful defeats, out of which came final victory, 
 and described the little band of Covenanters advancing 
 boldly to meet great hosts of enemies, his voice rose; and 
 when he pictured the charge at Bothwell he sprang up like 
 a strong young man, and caught oif his velvet cap (which he 
 will call his bonnet) and waved it over his bald head, and 
 shouted: "Christ's Crown and Covenant!" so loudly that 
 it brought grandmother to the door, and the dove, dis- 
 turbed, lifted her pretty head with a soft "coo." So all 
 the time, while grandfather is describing to me those days 
 of dread : the field of battle, with the crash of guns, the 
 clash of sword on sword, the shouts, the cries, the groans, 
 and the awful night coming down over the dying and the 
 dead — beside this talk runs the soft monotone of the 
 brooding dove, and the sharp "chipper" of the little blue- 
 birds, waiting to be fed. I wonder if, when war is in the 
 land, and the sun is shining on such fields of blood, and 
 great events are taking place, there can run along by the 
 wild tide of war the calm stream of home lives, and daily 
 
56 -P^l TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 duties, and the quiet toils of women, and the plays of 
 little children? 
 
 June 20, 1773. 
 
 To-day we had a letter from Cousin Bessie Warley, of 
 Boston, and a package of newspapers. The Massachusetts 
 Spy and the Boston Gazette had letters from Mr. Quincy 
 and Dr. Warren, and the Widow Draper's paper, the 
 News-Letter, had more of what grandfather calls gossip. 
 The papers gave us the Whig views, and Cousin Bessie's 
 letter the other side. Cousin Bessie is the only child of 
 grandmother's youngest sister. Her mother is dead, but 
 her father is living, and she is with him in Boston. My 
 grandmother never liked Mr. Warley, for she thinks him 
 a sly, unscrupulous man. This farm where we live be- 
 longs to grandmother, and will go to Bessie, as the only 
 one left of that family. Grandmother loves Bessie, but 
 she does not take any comfort in her. Bessie hates the 
 Whigs; she never gets done talking about the wicked riot 
 in '65, M'lien Governor Hutchinson's house was burned, on 
 the Xorth Square, in Boston. That was a shameful work, 
 but grandmother says there are evil men and evil deeds in 
 all causes, even in the best; and moreover, things would 
 not have been so bad if the mob had not been given a 
 whole barrel of rum — the drink, given to satisfy, only 
 made them more fierce. I shall never forget what Deacon 
 Dana said, not long since, when grandmother said that 
 drink would make our soldiers demons rather than patri- 
 ots, and that rum in the mouth put reason from the head 
 and religion from the heart. Said the Deacon: 
 
 "Aye, aye! royalty, rum and Bome are like to be the 
 
OXE HUXDrjCD YEARS AGO. 57 
 
 ruin of this country, and we and our children for many- 
 generations are certain to see sore fight with them." 
 
 Well, in that riot Mr. Warley's roof got on fire and his 
 windows were broken, because his house was near tht 
 Governor's. She ridicules the Boston " Daughters of Lib- 
 erty," with their spinning, song-singing and liyperion- 
 drinking, and says that the reverend gentlemen. Cooper 
 and ISIayhew, are only fit for hanging. (My grandfather 
 says those divines are somewhat hasty of counsel.) Cousin 
 Bessie ended her letter by saying that she was to come to 
 stop with us for two months. She is seventeen, three 
 years older than I am. I am glad that she is coming. 
 
 June 26, 1773. 
 
 Cousin Bessie came to-day. She came to Plymouth by 
 coach, and Isaiah Hooper being in with his wagon brought 
 her here. She had a trunk covered with cow-skin with 
 the hair on, and set with large brass nails. It is the 
 biggest and handsomest trunk I ever saw. Cousin Bessie 
 wore a green cloth dress with a hoop, and a beaver hat 
 with a plume half a yard long. Her shoes had high red 
 heels and pointed toes, and, altogether, I never saw a 
 young lady so gay; she is gay as my grandmother in her 
 very best, which she only puts on once or twice a year. 
 Cousin Bessie traveled with a matron of Plymouth; but 
 two British officers were in the coach, and she talked of 
 them much, in a manner that frightened me, and for 
 which grandmother at last reproved her sharply; but Bes- 
 sie laughed, and said she would marry one day a British 
 officer, and he would be knighted for reducing these rebel- 
 lious Colonies to submission, and then she would go to 
 
58 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 London, and be presented at Court, and live a lady. It 
 quite took away my breath to think of any one whom I 
 know doino; such wonderful thing^s ! Cousin Bessie is not 
 one bit afraid of grandmother. She will not spin, but she 
 knits lace stockings and mittens for herself; and she works 
 worsteds and embroiders ruffles — not for her father, but 
 to give to some officers in Boston. 
 
 July 2. 
 Grandmother keeps me at all my duties, I think, closer 
 than ever, by way of setting example to Bessie. This 
 morning: we heard that Mistress Brown's child is not like 
 to live, and so grandmother went to her for the day. She 
 left me a large task of spinning, and since Bessie could not 
 spin, she bade her reel. As soon as grandmother was 
 gone Cousin Bessie came to the garret, but not to reel. I 
 set open all the windows and began my work. Bees and 
 butterflies swung in and out on the sunbeams, and I 
 walked up and doAvn by my wheel. Bessie went for some 
 flowers and dressed my hair, and tied a ribbon on my 
 neck; then she trimmed herself all up with flowers and 
 true-love knots. I do not deny that she looked very 
 pretty. And then she got out three pictures of gentlemen, 
 who, she said, were her lovers, and she said she liked one 
 with a sword best of all. She read me some verses another 
 one (a student at Cambridge) wrote to her. They praised 
 her eyebrows, " arched like Cupid's bow ; " and I told her 
 that was evidently not true, for her eyebrows are quite 
 straight ; and she was vexed and said nobody wanted love 
 verses to be true, so they sounded well. But I should 
 want them to be true. For instance, if Thomas Otis wrote 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 59 
 
 ' She read about the Lady Clementina, Harriet Byron, and Sir Charles Grandison." 
 
60 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 me verses I would not thank him to call my eyes blue, 
 because they are not blue, but gray. 
 
 Then Bessie went and brought a book to read. She 
 read a long time, all about the Lady Clementina, Harriet 
 Byron and Sir Charles Grandison. I thought it beautiful 
 at first, until I found it was a novel. Grandmother has 
 told me that novels are dreadful books, inspired by the 
 Evil One. And this, to be sure, was very bewildering — 
 all about love and marriage, and various things which 
 girls should not think of. Grandfather gave me "Thomp- 
 son's Seasons" for my birthday. I think it very nice, and 
 I read it for hours underneath the apple-tree, or on the 
 hay-mow. However, Bessie would read on, until she was 
 as hoarse as a crow; and we both agreed that we would 
 never, never marry a man not as perfect as Sir Charles; 
 but Bessie says all the British officers are just as good; 
 and I know James Otis, whom Mr. Adams called "a flame 
 of fire," is just as noble — and — all the Otis family are 
 alike. After dinner I returned to my spinning, and Bes- 
 sie went to our room. Presently she came up to me, and 
 I fairly held my breath to look at her. Her hair was in 
 scrolls, powdered white. She had a gauze head-dress a 
 foot high, and a blue satin trained gown, with a cream- 
 colored satin petticoat. She had a gauze kerchief on her 
 neck, and her arms were in long embroidered gloves. So 
 dressed she made me a curtesy — like those made in Court, 
 she assured me ; and danced me a minuet. She offered to 
 teach me, but I feared grandfather's roof might fall as it 
 ■vvas — with novels' and dancing under it. Then off went 
 Bessie, and came back in a peach-colored brocade, with a 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 61 
 
 white petticoat and wide hoop, and a lace kerchief, and a 
 fan from Paris. She stood so in the sunshine, telling me 
 what compliments were paid her in the winter, when she 
 went to the Governor's ball in this dress; and I stood by 
 my wheel, forgetting to spin, and feeling very shabby in 
 my unpowdered hair, my home-spun dress and linen apron 
 of grandmother's bleaching, when lo! there stood grand- 
 mother in the door. I was dreadfully frightened, but Bes- 
 sie laughed and swept a curtesy, saying: 
 
 " So I shall look when I am presented to His Gracious 
 Majesty the King of England." 
 
 Grandmother said sternly : 
 
 " You look fitter for such a court than to appear before 
 the King of Heaven. Go lay off those trappings, child, 
 and do not strive to pervert Abbey with your nonsense. 
 The land will be ruined for want of good, plain-hearted 
 women. I feel sure of it." 
 
 July 26, 1773. 
 
 Whatever is going to happen ! I am at Dame War- 
 ren's, to stay for two weeks! How it came about I 
 never could tell, only, the evening before last grand- 
 mother put my silk pelisse, my straw hat, and my nan- 
 keen gown in a box, and bid me wear my calico dress 
 next day, for I was to go on a visit to Dame Warren's. 
 Cousin Bessie smuggled me in a pair of gloves, a muslin 
 neck-kerchief, and a ribbon. At Dame Warren's I found 
 Doctor Joseph Warren, one of the Sons of Liberty, and 
 a member of the Assembly. Mr. James Otis was there — 
 a little better than usual, though never to get well. How 
 awful it was of that vile man to beat him on the head in 
 
62 PATRIOT AND TOBY: . 
 
 that coifee-house, and spoil what my grandfather says 
 was the finest brain in America ! He talked in Latin 
 with Doctor Warren. There was a thunder-storm a few 
 days ago, and he said he always asked God to let him die 
 by lightning. Thomas Otis was there too, and also a 
 Mr. Kichard Reid, a graduate of Harvard College — a 
 very grave man, who was studying for the ministry, but 
 has left it to busy himself in politics, feeling that the 
 country will soon need her young men for soldiers; and 
 so he is captain among the Minute Men, and spends 
 much time drilling his company. He knows Israel Put- 
 nam, and has visited him on his farm. 
 
 It was here at Dame Warren's house that, in 1764, the 
 idea of a General Convention of delegates from the Assem- 
 blies of the Colonies originated. The Dame's father and 
 brother were visiting her, and together they thought of 
 this plan. It is always the same here; all the talk is of 
 great plans, and of preserving our liberties. At home I 
 suppose the same idea is in grandmother's heart, but she 
 says nothing — only spins, and knits, and weaves more 
 than ever. I said something of the kind to Dame War- 
 ren, and she replied: 
 
 "Oh, child, no amount of talking will do our soldiers 
 so much good when war comes as your grandmother's 
 big warm blankets and thick socks." 
 
 Mr. Kichard Reid was sitting near; he seldom says very 
 much, but now he did venture to open his mouth ; and he 
 remarked that while it was the part of men to go forth, 
 arms in hand, and give perhaps their lives for their 
 country, it was the part of women to send them forth 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 63 
 
 cheerfully, and to provide for them food and clothes, and 
 keep up their hearts with good words. This was woman's 
 proper work, and they who undervalued that were not 
 likely to do any patriotic work at all — and he looked 
 quite savagely at me. I replied quickly that I only got 
 my ideas from the Bible, being allowed to read few other 
 books, and that therein I found war and women but sel- 
 dom mentioned together, and when they were so men- 
 tioned it was to show Deborah leading an army, and Jael 
 driving a nail into a tyrant's head. 
 
 Dame Warren laughed heartily at my spirit, and 
 Thomas said he was glad I answered so smartly. 
 
 " What right," said Thomas, " has he to be sitting by 
 you and talking all the time?" 
 
 So I think. 
 
 In the evening we got on well, for we sat by the harp- 
 sichord singing the "Massachusetts Song of Liberty," 
 written by Mrs. ^yerran. Richard Reid hath a very fine 
 voice. We all came out loudly on the chorus: 
 
 "In freedom we're born, and like sons of the brave 
 Will never surrender 
 But swear to defend her. 
 And scorn to survive if unable to save." 
 
 Dame Warren also read to us in the evening some of 
 her dramas and poetry. She has many books from Eng- 
 land, and I have been reading some in the "Feiry 
 Queen," "Chaucer" and "Dryden;" also in "Shakes- 
 peare," which I doubt my grandmother would quite ap- 
 prove, at my age. This afternoon Thomas invited me 
 out to the Ijarn for something that was going on there. 
 
64 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 We found the floor swept, and bundles of hay for seats, 
 and some dozen lads from Plymouth prepared to act 
 Dame Warren's drama of " The Group." I never was at 
 a theater, of course; but Thomas says he went once in 
 Boston — boys go to such fearful places — and he assured me 
 that this is exactly like. I am glad I know, for I always 
 had a vast curiosity about it; and I suppose my grand- 
 father would not object to my seeing in the barn how a 
 play is done. A number of the maidens and children of 
 the neighborhood came to see. Thomas had a sheet for 
 a curtain, and some boards laid over barrels for a stage. 
 They had also a drum, a cow-horn, and a big conch-shell 
 in the orchestra, whereon some little herd boys played; 
 also a pine-tree flag, and a big scroll with the "Colony 
 snake" and " Unite or die" upon it. This was the scenery 
 of the play, and very appropriate, Thomas said. All 
 Avent well, except once the curtain fell — and generally it 
 would not draw^ — and the lad who acted Brigadier Hate- 
 all — who means Timothy Ruggles — stamped so hard that 
 he broke his end of the platform, and fell into a barrel. 
 However, they played beautifully, flourishing swords, and 
 making a terrible noise, and we all clapped, making so 
 much ado that Richard Reid came in, and sitting by me said 
 that making theatrical representations of such awful things 
 as war and rupture between kindred countries was ill-ad- 
 vised. Quoth I, " the play is the Dame's," and sure enough 
 beside us stood the Dame who had come in unperceived. " Is 
 it so?" said Mr. Reid; "Well, good friend, if you would 
 write a treatise on nursing the wounded, and on the proper 
 stores to send to camp, and on the danger of rum-drink- 
 
ONE HUNDBED YEARS AGO. 65 
 
 ing to our soldiers, and the duty of mothers and maids at 
 home to provide things needful, and to urge the men to 
 temperance while on duty, I fancy you would be giving 
 us what we much need. Here Thomas came out and an- 
 nounced that he had an address to deliver, and rather 
 roughly bid Richard Reid "be quiet." Then he made a 
 very good speech — at least it had a deal of noise, and ges- 
 ture, and big words in it; and he made us all laugh in 
 speaking of the change in the ministry in the mother 
 country, and twisting Shakespeare : 
 
 " Now is the Summer of our vast content, 
 Made grievous Winter by this Lord of North." 
 
 Richard Reid went off after this and was gone until bed- 
 time. Thomas told me that it was understood that Mr. 
 Brown and his wife are opposed to the Colonies, and are 
 saying and doing what they can against the "Minute 
 INIen " and the " Sons of Liberty," and that Mr. Reid went 
 to warn them to do no evil, if they were not of a mind 
 to do good. The next day I was greatly surprised to 
 see Cousin Bessie riding up to the gate of Mrs. AYar- 
 ren's house. I knew not that she had been invited here, 
 and indeed I do not think that she had. She was very 
 lively and pleasant, said she missed me, and that she de- 
 sired to see so famous a woman as Dame Warren in her 
 own house; in truth, she was so delightful that she was 
 made welcome. Mr. Reid seemed much struck with her, 
 and as he came in he asked me who that beautiful girl 
 was. I heard him also say that it must be the same lovely 
 creature whom he met riding away from Mistress Brown's 
 
QQ PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 last evening. " Yes/' said Thomas, who hates Bessie for 
 hating the Colonies, "I dare say. Birds of a feather flock 
 together." 
 
 " Fie," replied Mr. Reid ; " no doubt her errand was the 
 same as mine, with a diflerence. I went to threaten them 
 for disloyalty. She doubtless went to entreat to loyalty." 
 
 "Aye, to the King," said Thomas Otis. 
 
 Richard Reid looked vexed and went to talk to Bessie. 
 All that she said fascinated him. I thought her so un- 
 maidenly that I blushed, and the Dame shook her head; 
 nevertheless Bessie sang, very sweetly, "Where the bee 
 sucks, there lurk I;" also, " There eternal Summer dwells," 
 from Com us. Richard Reid, who reproved me for want- 
 ing higher work than spinning, and all of us for that drama 
 in the barn, heard Bessie singing love-songs and saying 
 how she hated all work except embroidering ruffles and 
 making rosewater; and the more she jested the better 
 pleased he was. I think men are such deceitful creatures ! 
 Even when Bessie said she was for the King, and that the 
 Colonies M'ould be beaten if they fought, and that they 
 were a mob of boors compared to the British army, he 
 would believe that she only talked so to draw him out 
 and give him a chance to defend the patriots. It made 
 me think of Job — "When I laughed on them, they be- 
 lieved it not." 
 
 Mrs. Warren was not half pleased, and we all retired 
 about eight o'clock. When we were in our room Bes- 
 sie told me she spent the previous day with Mrs. Brown. 
 By some ill luck grandmother sent her, a fortnight past, 
 to Mistress Brown with herbs for the sick child, which 
 
OSE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 67 
 
 is recovering, and from a similarity of sentiments they 
 got up an intimacy, and as a result Bessie went off to 
 spend the day. 
 
 " But grandmother must have disapproved," I cried, as- 
 tonished. 
 
 "Pooh! I could not help that," said Bessie. "How 
 can she be so very inconsistent? She demands liberty for 
 the Colonies, and that they should judge for themselves, 
 and not be hindered of their rights; and yet she would 
 refuse me liberty, and not permit me to judge for myself, 
 and Avould hinder me of my right to choose my own com- 
 pany. Your grandmother has very few jewels, and con- 
 sistency is one of those that she lacks. Am I not as 
 good as the Colonies? Have I no rights, no liberties, 
 no judgment? Truly, I shall free myself of the yoke; 
 and, as a testimony, oiF I went to see Mistress B.; not 
 that she is congenial : her shoes are of cowhide, and she 
 is given to devouring onions. I went to vindicate j^rin- 
 ciple. ^yell, as I was about to return home, and galloping 
 along in my best hat, I met this INIr. Reid, and the bump- 
 kin gazed as if I were an angel or a sweet-cake. I saw 
 that he had fallen in love with me, and I stopped to ask 
 a cow-boy about him, and heard that he was here. For 
 this I came here to-night." 
 
 "Wliy, Bessie," I cried, "you pretended never to have 
 seen him, and not to know visitors were here." 
 
 "Goodness, child! that is company manners," she said. 
 
 "But it is not truth!'' I protested. 
 
 "Bless the baby — not to know that truth does not go 
 in good society," said Bessie. Then she went on: "I am 
 
68 FATBIOT AND TORY: 
 
 wholly devoted to doing good, and I felt that to fall in 
 love with me and enjoy my society would refine and civ- 
 ilize this country fellow and make a man of him." 
 
 " Why, Bessie "VVarley !" I said, " he graduated at Har- 
 vard, and has studied for the ministry, and is Captain of 
 Minute Men, and knows Israel Putnam !" 
 
 "All of which proves him a Colonial lubber, unused to 
 and unfit for good society," said Bessie. "However, I 
 will improve him." 
 
 Bessie soon fell asleep, but I lay awake pondering her 
 motive. Was she secretly attracted by this Richard Reid, 
 who is a marvelous handsome man? or, did she simply 
 want amusement such as she has in Boston ? or, does she 
 want to use her power in drawing away one patriot from 
 the cause of the Colonies? She shall not do that. But 
 if she just makes fun of him I shall not mind. How dare 
 he speak like a teacher to me ! Only, after all, I would be 
 sorry to see a Tory like Bessie making a fool of a Whig, 
 and a friend of Putnam. 
 
 Bessie was not urged to stay with the Dame, but she 
 did remain three days. The first day there was a meeting 
 of the Sons of Liberty in a field a mile from James War- 
 ren's, and Ave all went to hear the speaking. They sang 
 the Dame's song, and pledged themselves to dispute Brit- 
 ish right of taxation, and to demand continuance of char- 
 ter, and trial at home by jury. The women had brought 
 cider and baskets of cake; and they fired a cannon when 
 the meeting ended. I never heard a cannon before. Bes- 
 sie made no end of fun of the speaking, and of the home- 
 spun dress, and said the Colonies were all playing Shake- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 69 
 
 speare's drama of " Much Ado About Nothing." The next 
 day a hundred Minute Men were to be drilled on a farm 
 ten miles north of us, and we rose at four o'clock, and 
 Thomas took Bessie and me and some other young folks 
 to see. Richard Reid had gone olf at three o'clock on 
 horseback. We took baskets of provisions, and had enough 
 to eat ourselves and share with some of the men ; so did 
 others, and all feasted. On the way home Bessie ridiculed 
 the clothes and the poor guns and the awkwardness of the 
 militia, and said they would run from the sight of the 
 red-coats, and that such plowmen could not Avithstand 
 British discipline. I think she made Richard Reid angry. 
 He told her that of these very plowmen heroes would be 
 made who would live in fame so long as the world stood ; 
 that God would be with these men who fought for a prin- 
 ciple, as He was with Gideon's three hundred ; and he told 
 her the days were like to come when Britain would admit 
 that the Colonies were doing the best thing for her, the 
 world and themselves, and would be as proud of these 
 rough-clad, honest, manly souls as we ourselves. He said 
 little to Bessie after that, and the next day she Avent back 
 to grandmother. 
 
 ArcrsT 30, 1773. 
 Bessie has gone home to Boston. She worried grand- 
 mother dreadfully by refusing to spin, by visiting Mistress 
 Brown, and by talking about lovers. Bessie says if the 
 Colonies fight, when they are beaten Government will take 
 away rebel's property, and then we will see that she and 
 her father were on the safe side, and we will be indebted 
 to her for a home. She will find that grandmother and I 
 
70 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 can earn a home by our own hands if it comes to that ; and 
 we are working for a principle, not property. Sometimes 
 I love and admire Bessie ; other times I can not endure 
 her. Grandmother says all her faults arise from having 
 no mother since she was ten years old ; but I have heard 
 that her mother — grandmother's younger sister by many 
 years — was a very foolish woman. Nervey told me so. I 
 miss Bessie ; but it is well for me that she has gone. I am 
 so weak-minded I do not stand by what I know to be 
 right. I let Bessie read to me all that dreadful novel, and 
 another beside ; and she taught me to walk a minuet. AVe 
 took occasion for these things when I had hurried through 
 my spinning in the big garret. Certainly it was very 
 wicked, but I find it so dull here when I can do nothing 
 but spin ; and grandmother will not let me outside of the 
 yard lest I get "gadding habits." It has been a busy 
 summer — fruit and grain plenty, a heavy fleece at shearing- 
 time. Pompey catching and curing many fish, and grand- 
 mother making mucli yarn, and drying bushels of fruits. 
 We are to cure much bacon, and make more cider than 
 usual. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 71 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 September, 1773. 
 rPHE country is in a most troubled state. Letters from 
 Dr. Franklin, from England, are very discouraging. 
 The Doctor sent to Rev. INIr. Cooper, of Boston, some 
 letters that have turned the people more than ever against 
 Governor Hutchinson, and it is thought he must leave the 
 Colony. Josiah Quincey has been through all the Colonies 
 conversing with the leading men, and he finds they are all 
 of a mind ; to stand together and resist oppression. It is 
 said that the East India Company has seventeen millions 
 of pounds of tea in store, and are pressing the Government 
 to remove the tax. I thought that would make it all right; 
 but yesterday I heard James "SVarren and grandfather 
 saying that it was not the tax, which is small, but the 
 principle of the thing, that was cause of contention. 
 The question is: has Britain a right to tax the Colonics 
 without their consent — to make laws for them without 
 consulting the Colonies? Americans say no, generally; 
 but some, like, Mr. Seaforth, hold that this is a less evil 
 than war; that rebellion, even to an earthly government, 
 is as the sin of witchcraft; and that if we are patient more 
 and more, enlightened counsels will prevail./ I know more 
 about these questions than I did, on account of great grand- 
 father. \There is a strange change in him lately; his body 
 
72 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 grows weaker, but his mind seems to get stronger and 
 stronger; he takes even more interest than before in public 
 affairs. I have to read all the papers to him, and all the 
 letters that come to us or that Dame AYarren sends over, 
 and these must be read many times, so that I have come to 
 know how affairs stand. 
 
 My uncle Matthew writes from Virginia that Governor 
 Dunmore is not popular ojicially, though personally well 
 treated, and great changes are talked over in the Apollo 
 Room of Raleigh Tavern. Uncle John writes that Penn- 
 sylvania is resolved to stand by the Colonial cause; and 
 the leading men, as Morris, and Witherspoon, and others, 
 are great patriots. They are resolved to import nothing 
 from England, and have constant meetings of the friends 
 of liberty. Grandfather says this can not long continue; 
 our land of harvests and minerals, lumber and harbors, 
 was made for commerce, and we must have imports and 
 exports, and it can not long be that we will be content 
 merely with refusing English articles; trade we must have. 
 
 News has come from South Carolina that they have a 
 Vigilance Committee, and meet at Charleston under a tree, 
 called, like that at Boston, " Liberty Tree." Gadsden and 
 Samuel Priolean, and Pinkney, are of the leaders there. 
 In Georgia there is a strong Royalist party of very worthy, 
 honest men, and there is also trouble from the Indians ; so 
 that the " Sons of Liberty " have much ado to hold their 
 own. The Presbyterians in the hill districts are very 
 strongly in favor of breaking with the mother country, and 
 having here a Republic. sj 
 
 I read all these things to great grandfather, and we talk 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 73 
 
 of them hour after hour — not under the apple-tree now. 
 The birds are gone, the leaves are falling, the apples are 
 gathered, and grandfather, feeling the chill of autumn and 
 the chill of age, sits mostly by the wood-fire in the common 
 room, and I usually sit near him, because he likes it, and 
 lest he might need something. 
 
 Great-grandfather has been in this country seventy-five 
 years; usually he has spoken without any Scotch accent; 
 indeed, he has been thought a very able and eloquent man ; 
 but when he talked to children, or in tenderness, he fell 
 back on the old Scotch phrases. But now he uses that way 
 of speaking more than formerly; grandmother sometimes 
 shakes her head when she hears him. The other evening 
 several of the neighbors came in, the Danas, and Isaiah 
 Hooper, and after much talk they all seemed to think that 
 this country would divide from England. Said grand- 
 father, " it is to this separation that our history points ; for 
 this end were we planted and thus far nurtured, but the 
 day is coming when the child grown to man's estate must 
 set up his own household." Then they talked much of 
 how this would be accomplished, y Grandfather hopes for 
 a peaceable parting, but no one thinks that possible. 
 Grandfather said that if to set up a separate nation here 
 meant to always be enemies of England, allies of her foes, 
 haters of her government, and watching for her ruin, then 
 he hoped there would not be a separate nation, for it is ill 
 for children to despise their fathers, and for nations to 
 hate their ancestors, and it is from the old country that we 
 get our sturdy race and our ideas of freedom, and all our 
 education in liberty until to-day. 
 
74 ATBIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 Deacon Dana says lasting enmity is impossible. A little 
 bitterness may trouble us for a time ; but our language, our 
 traditions, our kinship, our similar institutions will bind 
 us together closer tlian other peoples. A 
 
 Isaiah Hooper said that the feeling between us and the 
 old country, after we became independent, would be like 
 that between Deacon Dana and his sou. The Deacon said 
 that Joseph was rash and vain and overgrown, and that 
 his pride would go before a fall; but secretly he thought 
 Joseph a remarkably smart and well-grown lad, and re- 
 joiced in his prosperity, though he felt it his duty as a 
 father to snub him betimes. Joseph declares that his fa- 
 ther is behind the age, is too sharp with him, is opinion- 
 ated to a degree; but Joseph is privately very proud of 
 his parentage, thinks the Dana family the best in the 
 world, and boasts aside of his father's industry and good 
 judgment. 
 
 AVe all laughed at that. Then great-grandfather began 
 to speak very earnestly. ' He seemed to take the separation 
 of these Colonies from the mother country as a thing al- 
 ready finished, although hardly any one ventures to speak 
 clearly of it. He then went on to speak of the dangers 
 of America. He spoke of party feeling and political strife, 
 and personal envy, and he feared the desire of power and 
 gain would corruj)t our leaders, so that instead of a mon- 
 arch, hedged round by a Constitution, we would have a 
 venal mob at the head of affairs. Immigration would 
 bring to us the worst men of many lands, despisers of the 
 Bible and the Sabbath; the idea of liberty was in danger 
 of beintr carried too far: toleration would he shown where 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 75 
 
 toleration was a crime against God, the State and human- 
 ity — there were some things, said grandfather, that were 
 not to be tolerated : clerical dominion and intemperance 
 were of them. The spirit of Romanism drove our ances- 
 tors from the old country, said great-grandfather, and if 
 j^ermitted it will follow us here, and like a cuckoo in the 
 nest, will drive us all out. " You may talk," said great- 
 grandfather, " of extent and resources, and commerce, and 
 allies, of patriotism and education, and all that, but if 
 there is a Republic in this country, it will only last so 
 long as it is God-honoring, as God's glory is compromised 
 with it, and would suffer loss, if the nation that trusted 
 and served Him should perish. But if this country for- 
 gets God, holds His day. His name. His Book, lightly, 
 then it Mill begin to die just in proportion as it is so cor- 
 rupted, and the greater its glory, the more terrible its fall ; 
 the only hope for America is in the Church of Christ." 
 
 Grandfather held up his head, lifted his hands, his eyes 
 flamed, his face was bright, and his voice strong. Our 
 neighbors said it was quite equal to his best day. They 
 were all so taken up with what he said, that it was nearly 
 nine o'clock before they left; a wonderfully late hour for 
 us, though Bessie told me she often staid up so late as 
 that. I said to grandmother next morning: "I am almost 
 ready to think our grandfather a prophet, he speaks with 
 such power." But she said : " Child, people have been 
 supposed to be gifted with the spirit of prophecy, merely 
 because they were close students of their times, and of 
 God's word, and so discovered whcreunto things would 
 grow, which meant nothing to other people. Of such 
 
76 PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 were good Bishop Usher and noble John Knox, and cer- 
 tain of the Covenanters, as Welsh, and Brown, and others." 
 I do not wonder that Dame Warren calls my grandmother 
 "a woman of much judgment." 
 
 September 28, 1773. 
 
 Isaiah Hooper brought us a rumor from Boston of news 
 from England that shij^s are on their way here with tea. 
 Lord North has removed the duties on all other articles, 
 but holds to this on tea as a token to the Colonies that 
 they must submit to the mother country. Meanwhile they 
 favor the East India Company so that the tea can be 
 offered here at a low price, and so they expect to tempt 
 the Colonies to buy. I wish tea had never been heard of; 
 but grandmother says that is folly : the question of right 
 lay between us, and if there had been no tea some other 
 thing would call it up. As Isaiah Hooper says, " it is the 
 principle, not the pence," we are standing about. How- 
 ever, Boston vows not to receive the tea, and so also 
 Charleston, Savannah, Philadelphia, and other ports. In 
 all these things great-grandfather sees God's hand, and 
 seems to know the end as if he stood in the light of 
 heaven. I said to grandmother to-day: 
 
 ''Do you believe in second sight?" 
 
 " Be sure I do," says she. " Your great-grandfather 
 sees better than he did twenty years gone." 
 
 " But it is not second sight of the body I mean," I said, 
 "but of the mind. I mean Scotch second sight that 
 knows the future — the taisch, that tells of death; the 
 wraith—." 
 
 "Nonsense, child!" cried grandmother; "you read too 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEABS AGO. 77 
 
 much folly in your grandfather's study — poetry, and the 
 like. It is my opinion that a girl of your age should read 
 nought but her Bible, ' Pilgrim's Progress,' a cook-book, 
 and possibly, ' Hervey' s Meditations Among the Tombs, 
 until she has reached an age too discreet to be beguiled 
 with fancies. Hannah Dana reads nothing else than these." 
 
 " "Well, grandmother," I said, " our Puritan fathers be- 
 lieved in some of these supernatural things, and — and I be- 
 lieve great-grandfather holds to them a little ; and I feel 
 very afraid that he has had a summons — he's not like he 
 was, grandmother," and I began to cry. Grandmother was 
 mixing bread; she looked puzzled. 
 
 "AVell, of all things! Having had no children of my 
 own, I was glad you were a girl, for me to bring up; but, 
 Abbey, you are as perplexing as a boy. I doubt not 
 youv'e been in the house too much, and are nervous, and 
 nerves I can't abide." So she called to Pompey, and bid 
 him put a saddle on old Maple, and said I was to ride 
 over to Deacon Dana's to spend the day and cheer me up. 
 I dared not say I did not like Hannah Dana, so oflf' I 
 went. Hannah gave me a new pattern for patchwork, and 
 taught me a new stitch in knitting. She wore all home- 
 made clothes, and says she shall wear no other until the 
 Colonies get their rights. She told me — I think in confi- 
 dence, at least I shall not mention it — that if there was 
 Avar she should go to the army. I asked her, would she 
 carry a gun; she said mayhap — at least she was now 
 learning of Joseph to load and fire, and that women 
 would be needed to cook, and nurse, and help, and she 
 should go. I came home liking Hannah Dana better 
 
78 PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 She is stern, sharp, rude, and harsh, jierhaps — she caught 
 their black boy torturing a mouse with matches, and she 
 made no ado, but held him by the collar and thrashed 
 him soundly — but she is true and strong, and I like 
 people strong of heart, and mind, and body. To be a 
 day with Hannah Dana made me feel as if I had been a 
 day by the sea, or on the mountain-tops. I wish I could 
 find a woman so strong, and with so deep a heart, and yet 
 one who was gracious, like an angel, and fair to look 
 upon. 
 
 October 10, 1773. 
 
 The harvests are all gathered, and Pompey and I have 
 been for quantities of nuts; the cider is made, and the 
 wheels are brought down now to the common room. The 
 winter clothes are all cut out, and the shoemaker has 
 been here and made us all shoes for winter. Grand- 
 mother is like the notable woman in Proverbs — " She is 
 not afraid of the snow for her household, for all her 
 household are clothed in scarlet." Ours is blue, and 
 gray, and black, mostly; but grandfather says that "scar- 
 let" referred more to warmth and goodness of quality 
 than to color. I think sometimes if I could paint, I 
 would paint our common room in the evening. There is 
 the big fire-place, where Pompey piles logs of wood, and 
 on one side great-grandfather in his high oaken chair, 
 with a })laid, which he brought from Scotland, thrown 
 about his shoulders, and his white hair coming from 
 under his close black-velvet cap. Before great-grand- 
 father's feet lie our cat and dog; near great-gran dfiither I 
 sit knitting; in front of the center of the fire is a table 
 
ONE IIUy'DRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 79 
 
 with some books, and grandfather in his dark, damask 
 gown, his round cap, and his gold-bowed spectacles, al- 
 ways reading. On the further side of the table is grand- 
 mother, at her 
 wheel; she sits 
 so straight, her 
 eyes are so 
 bright, and the 
 linen kerchief 
 on her neck is 
 so fine and 
 snowy that I of- 
 ten think she | 
 would look as 
 well in a pict- 
 ure as Cousin 
 Bessie. Beyond 
 grandmother, in 
 the further side 
 of the fire-place, 
 is a settle, paint- !^k:^ 
 ed blue, and 
 there sit our 
 
 three black people — Pompey, Xervey, and their boy, 
 Peter; Peter nearest the corner. I never heard of such 
 a boy as Peter; he must always have his head or liis 
 feet about into the fire. Peter is always making wooden 
 bowls, plates, pudding-sticks, or something of that sort. 
 Pompey sits mendhig farm tools, or the colored people's 
 
 shoes, or the harness, and Xcrvev alwavs knits or sews 
 6 
 
 " roJirF.V AXD I rJATHERIN'C. NUTS.' 
 
so 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 for the three, so we are constantly employed, and indeed 
 very happy. Sometimes grandfather reads aloud, or great- 
 grandfather tells some of his tales ; and Pompey, too, has 
 odd stories, which he ventures to relate if he gets a little 
 encouragement. We usually have a can of cider heating 
 on the hob, and a row of apples set to roast. Thus it is 
 from five to eight. Then we have prayers, and go to bed. 
 
 October 30, 1773. 
 The towns in everv direction are holdino- meetimrs, and 
 appointing committees, and sending messages to each 
 
 other, encouraging 
 to stand by the Co- 
 lonial cause. Sam- 
 uel Adams is here 
 the leading spirit. 
 James Warren is at 
 the head of the 
 movement in Ply- 
 mouth; but he is 
 very greatly dis- 
 couraged — it dis- 
 tresses him to think 
 of civil war — of war 
 with our relatives 
 over seas, as we 
 may say — and of sending his sons forth to be soldiers. 
 Samuel Adams w^rote to him the other day : " If there is 
 a spark of patriotic fire we will enkindle it." Mr. War- 
 ren brought the letter to read to grandfather, and he said 
 grandfather must preach a sermon especially to the men 
 
 SAMUEL ADAMS. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 81 
 
 capable of bearing arms. Grandfather agreed to do so. 
 Mr. James Otis is just now in a sad state ; often nothing 
 Avill quiet him but Dame Mercy's voice. There is much 
 suspicion against Mr. Brown and his wife. A Royalist 
 like Mr. Seaforth, who is such from principle, who would 
 fiive his life for the cause which he believes to be right- 
 eons, and whom no bribe could buy, I can love and re- 
 spect ; but these Browns are folk of another strain ; they 
 hold to the royal side because they think that side will 
 win the day, and that they will be paid for adhering to 
 it. They arc spies on their neighbors, and volunteer to 
 the Hutchinson men the information which they steal, 
 and then ask pay for service which they have offered un- 
 requested. The BroAvns are lazy, and their farm is ill- 
 kept; but they expect to get rich out of their neighbors. 
 Mistress Brown met me going into Deacon Dana's lane 
 yesterday. 
 
 "A line farm is the Deacons," quoth she, "but his 
 children will not inherit it. All your farms about 
 here will be confiscated for your rebellious doings, and 
 my children will each have choice of them. 
 
 I was very angry. 
 
 " Look you, Mistress Brown," I said, " when the chil- 
 dren of those you call rebels are honored for their 
 father's patriotism, your cliihlren, instead of farms, will 
 only have room for graves, where they shall be forgotten ; 
 traitors are not worth remembering." 
 
 " AVhy, you saucy magpie," said she, "when you beg 
 a crust at my door you'll not get it, nor your lofty 
 grandmother, nor Dame Warren." 
 
32 PATRIOT ASD TOBY: 
 
 I made no further answer ; and when I told grand- 
 father he said I was wrong to say any thing as I did, to 
 one so much older. However, the Browns have got into 
 trouble, for a letter from them that they sent to post was 
 dropped by their servant lad, and being found by one of 
 the "Sons of Liberty" it was seen that the Browns were 
 sending word to the Governor's party that the Warrens 
 and my grandfather and some others were the ruin of 
 Plymouth Township, and that there would be no loyalty 
 here to the king until they Avere carried to jail. The 
 " Sons of Liberty " then sent the Browns word that for 
 a like evil deed again, they would be harried out of the 
 township. 
 
 November 5, 1773. 
 
 Grandfather has j)reached his sermon to the patriots. 
 His text was : " And the people repented them for Ben- 
 jamin, because that the Lord had made a breach in the 
 tribes of Israel." He showed how civil war is sometimes 
 justifiable — is a remedy for evils that can be cured by no 
 other means — and is a messenger of righteousness. But 
 he also showed the great danger of such war — that it be 
 filled with human bitterness — that it may pass from right- 
 eous zeal to deadly wrath, and to that vengeance that is 
 not for man but for God to execute. He showed, then, 
 what might be our full justification for a war with Eng- 
 land, but also how we should only look to war when all 
 else had failed, and that reasonable and peaceable meas- 
 ures should be tried, and that we should cast out all 
 malice from among ourselves. Then he bade the pat- 
 riots, if war came, to go forth boldly in the name of the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 83 
 
 Lord, looking for deliverance to the arm of His strength, 
 and to be valiant in fight, and gentle in victory, and pa- 
 tient in defeat. After the sermon a meeting was called 
 at Deacon Dana's for all the -women of the congregation. 
 Grandmother Avas at the meeting. She told me that they 
 resolved to be on the watch and ready at any moment to 
 send snpplies to a camp if war broke out; and that they 
 should prepare stores, and cloth, linen, socks and shirts, 
 and bottle up home-made wine for the sick, and make up 
 their minds to give their sons, brothers, and husbands, 
 and their time and property, to the cause of their coun- 
 try. Dame Warren came out and made a speech to 
 them, and gi'andmother wrote out an account of the 
 meeting. 
 
 November 24, 1773. 
 
 The post from Boston came to Plymouth last night. 
 We sent Peter for our letters, but he must needs delay at 
 every shop-window and blacksmith's door; therefore, 
 while Peter was yet gone Dame Warren rode up to our 
 gate. She has a letter from Mistress Abigail Adams, and 
 she read us part of it. After, while she was speaking to 
 my great-grandfather, she allowed me to copy this bit : 
 
 " You, madam, are so sincere a lover of your country, 
 and so hearty a mourner in all her misfortunes, that it 
 will greatly aggravate your anxiety to hear how she is 
 now much oppressed and insulted. The tea — that bane- 
 ful weed — is arrived. Great, and, I hope, effectual op- 
 position has been made to the landing." 
 
 After Mistress Warren had long been gone, Peter came 
 idling back. He had a h'ttcr from Bessie, and some 
 
84 
 
 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 newspapers. Tea ! tea ! tea ! is the cry. The papers tell 
 of the meeting at Liberty Tree, the address to the con- 
 signees, and the adoption of the " Philadelphia Re- 
 solves." The pilots have been warned not to bring up 
 the ships beyond the Hook, in New York. Bessie writes 
 that the foolish Colonists are running their necks into 
 a halter; that Franklin is in disgrace abroad; that Gov- 
 
 WINTER AT PLYMOUTH. 
 
 ernor Hutchinson will have his place as Postmaster-Gen- 
 eral of the Colonies ; that a number of the ringleaders 
 of mischief will be sent to England for sedition ; that 
 half the people of Boston are for submission to Govern- 
 ment ; and that the patriots are a mob, and that they are 
 on the eve of riot, and came near throwing Richard 
 Clarke and some others out of their windows the other 
 day. The winter is coming on with great bitterness; ^ 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 85 
 
 already we have had deep snows ; and, moreover, it is a 
 very evil winter for disease ; fevers are abroad, and 
 grandfather is much by the sick. Great-grandfather is 
 failing very fast ; he does not now walk much about the 
 room, and he scarcely eats any thing. He sits musing 
 for Ions' whiles, and then he breaks forth into words of 
 how God has led the Church of Scotland through many 
 years of trouble and conflict, and then he predicts that 
 so these Colonies will be led out of war to lasting peace. 
 
 December 27, 1773. 
 It is a long while since I wrote in my journal. I was 
 telling last about great-grandfather. He got feebler very 
 fast; — no disease, only a sudden breaking up of the life 
 that had held out so long. We were much alone. ISIis- 
 tress Dana was very ill of a fever; Mr. James Otis was 
 worse than usual, and one of Dame AVarren's sons was 
 very ill also, and thus Mistress Warren might not come 
 to us ; moreover, the roads were almost impassable from 
 deep snows. In this trouble, on the 19th of December, 
 grandfather was sent for, to go twenty miles back into 
 the country, to the funeral of his only sister, married to 
 a minister, who has ceased preaching because of feeble 
 health. Grandfather thought he would return next day, 
 but he was kept to the fifth day by an awful storm, 
 which seemed as if it would destroy all Plymouth Town- 
 ship. And what did we pass through in that storm ! At 
 the very hour of grandfather's going, Pompey must 
 needs, in chopping wood, chop his leg, and would have 
 bled to death only that grandmother had skill to tie up 
 his leg and put a plaster upon it. We saw a change in 
 
86 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 great-grandfather that evening, and grandmother wished 
 much that grandfather had not left us, but expected him 
 next day. Next day the okl, good man woukl be phiced 
 in his chair, with a stool to his feet and his plaid about 
 his shoulders ; and so he sat, saying very little, all day, 
 and grandmother close by him, talking now of the 
 Saint's Rest (whereof Mr. Baxter wrote so much), and 
 again reading from the Bible. At night Peter was to 
 stop with his father in their little cabin behind our 
 kitchen, but Nervey was to stay in the common room, 
 where we were watching by great-grandfather. While I 
 helped Nervey wash the dishes she told me how she had 
 long seen winding-sheets in the candles, and coffins 
 jumping out of the fire, .and asked me if I heard our 
 dog howl all last night. I said no, for I am a sound 
 sleeper. Nervey told me all these things meant death, 
 and she thought there were too many signs for the death 
 of one man so old that it was to be expected. As grand- 
 father had not come, Nervey felt sure he had perished in 
 the snow. I shook like a leaf in the wind, and I felt 
 like screaming and crying, but I dared not distui'b great- 
 grandfather ; and surely grandmother had her own fears 
 and enough to bear. Then that dreadful dog began 
 howling. I went and coaxed him, gave him a bit of meat, 
 and then beat him ; but still he M'ould howl. After that 
 we heard a noise in the house-side, which Nervey said 
 was a death-watch. I bid her be quiet, for grandfather 
 tells me all these superstitions are wickedness. What I 
 cared for was not so much Nervey's talk (but that was 
 eerie enough), but the awful thought of my grandfather 
 
OXE HUSDBED YEARS AGO. 87 
 
 buried under the snow and freezing to death. At last 
 Xervcy went and sat on the settle, sighing and shaking 
 her liead. The house was terribly still, but the storm 
 outside was furious, and so the hours grew on to twelve, 
 one, two. I wonder if it is always so cold and solemn 
 and ghostly all these long hours when folk are in bed 
 and asleep. At two, great-grandfather, who had been 
 napping, awoke, quite bright; he took a little wine and 
 beef tea, asked the time and after grandfather, and then 
 said, very confidently, that no harm had come to him. 
 He then desired worship, and asked grandmother to read 
 and pray. She woke Nervey and had worship, while I 
 sat at great-grandfather's feet, and he laid his hand on 
 my head, xifter grandmother had read a Psalm and 
 prayed a most strong and wonderful prayer, which seemed 
 to me to open the door of heaven and set us all in the 
 presence of God, great-grandfather said : 
 
 " I shall this night pass over Jordan." 
 
 Then said grandmother : 
 
 "Dear father, is your soul in perfect peace?" 
 
 He made answer : 
 
 " Aye, aye ! Aft6r a century of living I can say that 
 the Lord's way with His people is a good way, and He 
 makes all right at last. As to this Jordan, I shall not so 
 much as wet the soles of my feet, for Christ, the Ark of 
 the Covenant, has gone over before me, and the stream is 
 dried." Then he held out his hand to grandmother and 
 blessed her, saying : " The Lord recompense thy work, and 
 a full reward be given thee of the Lord God of Israel." 
 And to me he said: "Grow in grace, and in the knowl- 
 
83 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 edg-e of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." And he 
 bade Nervey, as she was a good servant to us, to be a 
 good servant to God. Then he fohlcd his hands and 
 made a prayer for the nation. Doubtless that caused hhn 
 to recall the old days and the scenes of his early life. 
 He talked rapidly for some time of his parents and of the 
 Covenanters, and their sore troubles, when, after a pause, 
 he passed suddenly to speaking a language which I did 
 not understand. I wondered if he were already speaking 
 the tongue of heaven ; but I thought not that there they 
 used so rugged a speech. I looked at my grandmother ; 
 she said : 
 
 " It is the twenty-third Psalm, in Gaelic, as he learned 
 it at his mother's knee. Behold, he is entering heaven as 
 a little child." 
 
 But when he had said this Psalm and the Lord's 
 Prayer, strangely he gathered all his strength, and he who 
 had been weak as a babe for days, sprang like a strong 
 man to his feet, and shouted : " Forward, men of the 
 West ! Christ's Crown and Covenant ! " And then he 
 sank back in his chair, and with a smile on his face as 
 one who had obtained a victory, he went into that city 
 where they wear white robes and have palms in their 
 hands. That night and the next day, until Peter brought 
 us some neighbors about noon, we were alone with 6ur 
 dead, and sore was our distress about grandfather. The 
 day following we had great-grandfather laid ready for 
 burial, when grandfather should come home, and certain 
 of the young men of the congregation went to seek him. 
 On the morning of the 24th they returned, bringing grand- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 89 
 
 father. A grave had been dug and covered over in our 
 church-yard, but the snow had fallen again to a weary 
 depth. The funeral set forth about noon, young men on 
 horses and Avith ox-teams breaking the way before us, and 
 tlie gathering was not large, owing to the sickness and 
 storm, and the uncertainty of the time. The storm died 
 away, and the sun shone out from behind very glorious 
 clouds as they filled up the grave; then we turned and 
 ■went slowly toward home, buffeting the winds and the 
 drifted snow. AVe were well on our road, and were passing 
 the higliM^ay toward Plymouth, when a man on a huge, 
 wild, plunging horse, came spurring toward us with great 
 leaps, in a wonderful manner. He took off his hat, and 
 waved, and shouted, while we halted in the road and 
 waited for what news he brought. He called out: 
 
 "On the evening of the sixteenth there was in Boston 
 a meeting of seven thousand patriots. They took posses- 
 sion at night of three ships, and emptied into the bay the 
 whole of the tea that had been imported ! " 
 
 AVe heard the news in silence, and without a word we 
 went on through the snow for some while. Then Deacon 
 Dana said : 
 
 "This is the beginning of very great things. We must 
 stand by Boston, come what may." 
 
 Isaiah Hooper said : 
 
 "Xow at last they will know that the Colonies mean 
 what they say and have a principle stake." 
 
 But my grandfather said : 
 
 " I see strong reasons to condemn this destroying of 
 private property." 
 
90 PATRIOT A^'D TORY: 
 
 Every one felt as if a very important step had been 
 taken, and that henceforth affairs in these Colonies conld 
 not move on as thev had before. When onr neighbors 
 had taken ns to our home, and grandfather had thanked 
 them for helping him to bury his dead, many of them 
 turned and rode to Plymouth, to hear the rest of the 
 news from the mail-carrier. The next day some of those 
 who had been to Plymouth came in to tell the news, and 
 on the morrow James Warren came, bringing a letter 
 which he had from Samuel xVdams; and from hearing all 
 these people talk I gathered what I set down herein of 
 this matter. The Boston people wanted to send back the 
 tea as it came, and waited nineteen days so to do. The 
 captains of the vessels agreed to return to London with 
 their lading, but the Custom-house would not clear them, 
 nor the governor give them a pass to get by the Castle. 
 All this trouble has risen from an evil governor. The 
 patriots waited until half-jiast six of the last day's grace. 
 In a few hours the tea must pass into the Admiral's 
 hands. Governor' Hutchinson gave his final refusal to 
 allow it to return. Josiah Quincy then told the meeting 
 to consider well what they did, for one step further would 
 bring them into such a struggle as this country never saw. 
 Then Samuel Adams rose and said : 
 
 " This meeting can do nothing more." 
 
 He meant that the time for submission, for yielding 
 principle, had come — or, the time for action ; the hour of 
 talk, of resolutions, had gone by. Then an Indian war- 
 whoop sounded at the porch of the Old South Church, 
 and fifty men and lads, dressed as Indians, passed the 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 91 
 
 door, went to the docks, boarded the three ships, threw 
 the three hundred and fifty chests of tea into the bay, 
 touched no other particle of -lading, and went silently 
 back to the city ; and there was a hush through all Boston 
 as if it had been Sabbath. Many people of Boston are 
 willing to pay the East India Company for the tea if it 
 will be only understood that we have the right to tax our- 
 selves, and no one else must tax us. 
 
 January 15, 177-4. 
 "We have heard that all the Colonies approve the course 
 of Boston. The tea sent to Charleston was landed, but 
 put in cellars because there was no one to pay the duty. 
 Paul Revere carried the Boston news South. From Phila- 
 delphia we hear that the tea ships returned quietly to Eng- 
 land. We got a rumor from England that Dr. Franklin 
 is being badly treated there. The King and his ministers 
 misunderstand us — and no wonder, for we are misrepre- 
 sented by such men as Hutchinson, who live among us 
 and are supposed to knoAV all about us. We are told that 
 munv people in England think that we Colonists are 
 black, or Indians, and do not speak English ; that we all 
 carry tomahawks, and amuse ourselves by scalping each 
 other. Even our King thinks. that in Boston they have 
 a regular committee for tarring and feathering people! 
 My grandfather says it is such a terrible pity that some 
 unguarded acts of "lewd fellows of the baser sort" have 
 given a foundation for such ideas, and that the inhu- 
 man deeds of the few are charged to us all. So it is, 
 grandfather says, we can not do evil for ourselves alone. 
 If thev would onlv let our great and noble Franklin — 
 
92 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 who loves the Colonies and loves the mother country, 
 and knows both — act as a peacemaker, then we might all 
 be one happy people. But now, doubtless, war must come. 
 Grandfather spoke very sadly of it last night. War, he 
 said, meant houses and towns burned, husbands, sons and 
 brothers slaughtered, widows, families, babes unprotected, 
 civilization rolled backward, the demon in the hearts of 
 men and women let loose to do deeds that, in days of 
 peace they would shudder to think of. And yet war, hor- 
 rible as it is, is sometimes needful, like a red-hot iron or a 
 physician's knife. Joseph Dana was in here, and he said 
 he guessed we'd see the war out by the end of the year; 
 but grandfather said for him not to think it; if we fought 
 Britain it would be different work from fighting Indians, 
 and we would not see the end under two, or more likely 
 three, years. Grandmother said that a long war would 
 ruin us; but grandfather replied we did not know what 
 we could endure until we were put to the test. Our neigh- 
 bors were talking of our country last night, in our com- 
 mon room, where they often gather. They say by its 
 charter Connecticut goes west even to the Pacific, and 
 that, wild as are the mountains, deep the rivers, and ter- 
 rible the plains of that unknown extent of territory, it 
 may some time be explored and its wealth of furs, and 
 perhaps minerals, be in our hands. Massachusetts has 
 sent emigrants toward the great river, and grandfather 
 says if things prosper with us as they have since the Pu- 
 ritans landed, in fifty years there will be towns far out 
 by Fort Duquesne; and in a hundred years from now 
 we doubtless shall have settlers and villages, and also 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 93 
 
 school and churches, so far off even as the banks of the 
 Mississippi! This country is capable of having a com- 
 merce as great as England, and we may reach a popula- 
 tion of ten millions; and for such a country and future, 
 and such a groat population, we must provide impregnable 
 Constitutions for the Colonies, a firm spirit of union, just 
 principles, equitable laws, thorough education, a living 
 Christianity, and these we must purchase by our lives, if 
 need be. This seems very wonderful to me. Grandfather 
 is a very wise man ; but when he talks in this way of the 
 future of America it seems more like a dream, or a foirv 
 tale, than what will truly be. What ! all those thousands 
 of miles of lumber cut down, those hosts of Indians scat- 
 tered, millions of miles of roads made, so many millions 
 of houses built, great grain-fields where are now swamps 
 and thickets — and all in a hundred years! I can not be- 
 lieve it. 
 
 February 20, 1774. 
 I have been to spend the day at Mistress Dana's. Han- 
 nah had a "quilting," and I went early, to take Mistress 
 Dana — who is still feeble from her fever — some calve's- 
 foot jelly, of my grandmother's making. As Mistress 
 Dana does not yet leave her room, I sat with her much 
 of the day, that Hannah might be with the quilters in the 
 common room. INIistress Dana told me of her carlv life 
 in these parts, and more particularly of the young days of 
 her mother, when Indians and Avild beasts were plenty 
 hereabouts. This good dame knew well certain folk wlio 
 had spoken with the Pilgrim Fathers — at least with some 
 of the longest survivors of them. Mistress Dana savs 
 
94 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 that Hannah is like this excellent grandmother, ^vho 
 feared nothing but sin, who was as af ower of strength to 
 her family and neighbors, a most worthy nurse in all dis- 
 eases, and who had been known to shoot a bear and three 
 wolves with her own hands. Mistress Dana bid me go to 
 a certain drawer in her press and bring a framed silhouette 
 from the left-hand corner. I went as she said, but she 
 had told me wrong, for when I carried the picture, without 
 looking. She said: 
 
 "Ah, that was Hannah's drawer. Carry the picture 
 back quickly, and say nothing — that is of Jonas Hooper. 
 My mother's is in the drawer above.'' 
 
 After, she told me that Hannah had been betrothed to 
 Isaiah Hooper's brother, Jonas, but that the poor young 
 man was killed by the falling of a tree on the day before 
 that set for the marriage. She said : 
 
 "Hannah takes her trouble in a diiferent mood from 
 many. It has shut her up to herself — made her silent 
 and stern. She lives now only to do her duty; and I dare 
 say she would be thankful any hour to be called out of 
 this life, only that she now expects a war, and desires to 
 be of some use to her country." 
 
 Poor Hannah Dana! Little did I think she had had 
 her history, much more touching to the heart than those 
 novels which my Cousin Bessie read to me. Hannah is 
 so plain, so sharp, so quiet, I did not think that she had a 
 story of her own. Perhaps — it might be possible — that 
 Isaiah Hooper might be a hero, or that there are very 
 great men living to-day, and that if we had a war it might 
 be a war as great and wonderful as those of Greece, or 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 95 
 
 Rome, or France, or the Wars of the Roses. I have just 
 heard from Dame Warren that Tom Otis ran aAvay from 
 his school, dressed as an Indian, and tried to join the "tea- 
 party," but was left on the wharf. I think that was very 
 bold of Tom. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Boston, May 2, 1774. 
 T17HAT a long time since I wrote in my journal, and 
 how little did I think that I should be writing in 
 Boston ! After our cold wdnter, spring came early : in 
 April the grass was green along the roadsides, the birds 
 were twittering, the flowers sprang up, the farmers were 
 busy in their fields. Following our excitement and ex- 
 pectation of immediate strife came days of quiet. About 
 the 10th of April, Pompey dug my flower-border for me, 
 and I went out to set some seeds and roots. While I 
 was so busied grandmother called to me from the garret 
 Avindow. I w-ent up to her. She was kneeling before 
 an oaken chest, which my mother's mother brought from 
 England, and on the chest and floor w^ere lying dresses 
 and other clothing tliat had been my mother's. I stood 
 silent, feeling solemn, and wondering how my mother 
 had looked in these gowns. I have very little recol- 
 lection of my parents, and have grow'n used to orphan- 
 hood; yet frequently I long for a mother of my own. 
 
 Grandmother said : 
 
 7 
 
96 ATBIOTAND TORY: 
 
 "Abbey, I shall now make up some of these clothes 
 for you." 
 
 She laid out a chintz gown, a muslinet figured, a gauze 
 kerchief with satin stripes for the neck, a fan, two pairs 
 of embroidered gloves, a ribbon for a hat, and blue sati- 
 net for a cardinal; also, a silk apron. I was much sur- 
 prised at this, and finally I said : 
 
 "I did not know, grandmother, that you thought me 
 old enough to wear such clothes; and these are much 
 finer than our neighbors have. I fear they might esteem 
 me proud, or that I should be gazed at too much in meet- 
 ing if I should wear these things." 
 
 Grandmother looked better pleased with me than com- 
 monly, for she considered girls very silly, and she replied : 
 
 "That is sensible thinking. Abbey, and gives me hope 
 of the stability of your character when you are grown up. 
 Before your father went out to the fight in which he was 
 killed he wrote to your grandfather that if it pleased God 
 to make you an orj)han he wished you to come here. He 
 also bid your grandfather educate you with the very best 
 of the time, as much like the girls of the old country as 
 possible. Your grandfather has taught you well, as much 
 as, I think, girls should know — too much books, I think, 
 may turn your head. However, the grandfather desires 
 you to learn French and drawing, and tapestry-work; 
 and, by Dame Warren's advice, the harpsichord; though 
 I fear that is dangerous. Our Puritan ancestors esteemed 
 that a profane art ; but we are departing from their ways. 
 To have masters in these lessons you must go to Boston; 
 and as Dame Warren is traveling thither in ten days, you 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 97 
 
 are to go with her, and be put at the house of Doctor 
 Cooper, who, though he is hasty of speech, and over- 
 zealous for war, is a godly man. You can see Bessie at 
 times, but Mr. Warley's house is not a fit home for a' 
 child of the Puritans. These clothes will be made ready 
 for you to wear in Boston, but I hope you will not be 
 carried away by the vanities of this world. Attend to 
 your lessons, for your time at them may be short; read 
 your Bible and pray every day, and do not neglect the 
 house of God. While Mistress Warren is in Boston, 
 consult her in all your affairs." 
 
 I do not remember that grandmother had ever said so 
 much to me at one time before. I carried the articles 
 which she had laid out down stairs, and spent most of the 
 day ripping and pressing, under grandmother's orders. 
 I felt afraid to go to Boston, among strangers, and 
 feared that, as I am so weak and easily led, I might get 
 astray and do things which my grandfather would disap- 
 prove. Grandfather, I knew, would miss me much; 
 grandmother would not. She likes me, but she only 
 really loves grandfather; if she has him she is content — 
 indeed, she would rather have no one else to disturb them. 
 Her whole life is in grandfather. He loves her much — 
 as he ought — but his life is wider than hers. He has his 
 church, his people, his friends, public affairs, his brothers, 
 and even me, to share his thoughts and his heart ; but 
 grandmother puts all else aside and has only grandfather. 
 Grandfather said often to me while Ave prepared for my 
 journey, "I shall miss thee, my good little maid," and 
 I fancied it troubled grandmother a little. She never 
 
98 -P-^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 misses any one when he is there, and she desires the 
 same feeling in him; but it is grandfather's nature to 
 have a heart for many. 
 
 Before I went away grandfather talked long with me 
 one day, telling me to read no idle books, to beware of 
 choosing Bessie's friends for mine; bidding me praise God 
 on the harpsichord and not sing silly songs, and by no 
 means to be persuaded to go to the theater. He said I 
 was yet a child, and must live as a child, obey my elders, 
 go early to bed, rise early, and mind my books. I hope 
 I shall do all these things and not disoblige my grand- 
 father. 
 
 I traveled with Mistress "Warren and her son, in a 
 coach. I slept at Dame Warren's in Plymouth, the night 
 before we set forth, and she showed me the beautiful 
 card-table which she has Avrought from patterns of real 
 flowers, and the dress of rich brocade, embroidered, 
 which she wore the day after her wedding. To beguile 
 the tedhmi of our journey Mistress Warren read to us 
 some of her dramas : '' The Ladies of Castile " and the 
 "Sack of Rome." It would be worth while to study 
 hard to be as wise as Dame Mercy Warren. 
 
 At last we reached Boston, and I was set down at the 
 house of Doctor Cooper. The Doctor is a grave and 
 learned man, but much more bitter against the mother 
 country, and much more zealous for war, than my grand- 
 father. I had no idea how great and wonderful Boston 
 would seem to me after living all my life on a farm. 
 There are six thousand inhabitants, or thereabouts ; also, 
 there is a marvelous maze of streets, houses, shops, ware- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 99 
 
 I travL'led with Dame Warren and her sou in a cuacli. 
 
100 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 houses, wharves, churches, and a commotion of people fit 
 to turn one's head. My grandmother bade me not to 
 gad about the streets — she need not have feared, I dare 
 not step out alone lest I be run over, or lose my way. 
 But Bessie, who has been twice to see me, tells me that 
 this feeling is but nonsense, and will wear off betimes. 
 Richard Reid has also been to call on me, to make 
 inquiries about my grandfather I suppose. Cousin Bessie 
 was here when he called, and jested freely with him, not 
 to his distaste. He is still drilling Minute-men, and 
 Bessie told him that when next news comes from Lon- 
 don, and the Government takes it in hand to chastise 
 rebellious subjects, all the manual exercise practiced by 
 Minute-men will be that of heels. About that coming 
 news we are very anxious. We look daily for a ship, 
 for the weather of late hath been most propitious for 
 sailing. We have heard that in New York, on the 19th 
 of last month, a tea ship which had arrived the day 
 before was sent home, and eighteen chests of tea found 
 on another vessel were cast into the slip. Thus England 
 will have more than Boston to deal with. 
 
 Meanwhile I am busy following my grandfather's direc- 
 tions. I practice on the harpsichord three hours daily; 
 also read French two hours, and have one hour for house- 
 hold work, and an hour for learning all kinds of mend- 
 ing; also, I sew embroidery one hour, and in the even- 
 ings I write a letter, or my diary, and read in "Raleigh's 
 History of the World," as Dame Warren bade me. 
 
 May 20, 1774. 
 
 These have been terrible days. Early one morning 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 101 
 
 a ship was reported entering the harbor. Doctor Cooper, 
 Samuel Adams, Mr. Savage, Mr. Hancock, and others, 
 were at the wharf at daybreak for news. And what news 
 was there ! The Parliament, on the 13th of March, 
 passed a Bill called the Boston Port Bill, designed quite 
 to destroy this noble city. Boston is regarded as the 
 head and center of rebellious America, and for its part in 
 the " Tea " business is to be ruined. This Bill is to go 
 into effect on June 1st. No merchandise is to come or 
 go from this port; no ships to leave or enter; customs, 
 courts, officers, and trade of every kind, are to be taken 
 to Salem. Boston is to be starved out — must be depopu- 
 lated; grass must grow in her streets. Doctor Cooper 
 says that the object is to reduce Boston to the misery of 
 London in the days of the plague. The publication of 
 this news caused every heart for a time to stand still. 
 Then some began to say that for this disaster Governor 
 Hutchinson was responsible, and most likely his house 
 would have been mobbed, and he might have fared ill, 
 had not a rumor risen that he had been removed and 
 would be superseded by General Gage, who would at 
 once arrive. Indeed, the poor Governor had received 
 his dismissal, and in great turmoil of spirit he fled that 
 very evening to Milton, where he hath a country-seat, 
 there to tarry until he finds an opportunity to return to 
 London. About noon General Gage arrived at the Long 
 "Wharf. Many of the best people went down to meet 
 him. He was attended by his staff only, and being wel- 
 comed with due respect he was bidden to a dinner by the 
 magistrates and others. Doctor Cooper and some of his 
 
102 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 friends were at the dinner. He tells ns that albeit a 
 great decency and courtesy were shown, a gloom rested 
 on all, and there were frowns and whisperings, not only 
 because of the Port Bill, but because it was known that 
 four regiments are ordered here from New York to keep 
 this proud and rebellious city in order. And are we 
 Colonists to be kept in bondage by the bayonets of hired 
 troops? The temper of the city is not to be thus co- 
 erced. While the company were just parting after their 
 dinner, a great crowd of men and boys passed with the 
 effigy of Governor Hutchinson, which they burned on 
 the Common, exactly in front of John Hancock's door. 
 Of all things it seems to me that burning an effigy, or 
 an unpleasing book, is the most idle and ungracious. 
 My grandfather has told me that in such riotous proceed- 
 ings a little vain bravado exhausts itself; righteous zeal 
 and true patriotism turn not to these doings. But Doc- 
 tor Cooper says that lads, and the unlearned, must have 
 these methods of expressing their feelings, where others 
 can fight, or speak, or write. 
 
 The next day a meeting of grave citizens considered 
 the Port Bill, and Paul Revere was forthwith sent by 
 Boston to Xcw York and Philadelphia to ask advice, 
 sympathy and aid. Paul Pevere had been up all night 
 engraving on wood a cut to head the copies of the Port 
 Bill Avhicli were printed for distribution. The cut is of a 
 crown, a skull and cross-bones, and a liberty-cap. Paul 
 Pevere went thundering out of town on a great coal- 
 black horse, and all the boys shouted and cried " Long 
 life!" and "Good speed!" as he passed. After him 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 103 
 
 Wf^ 
 
104 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 rode severiil gentlemen, and members of the Masonic 
 fraternity, of which he is Grand Master. However, the 
 feelings of all the citizens do not go with the patriots. 
 One hundred and twenty of the best merchants, lawyers, 
 magistrates and gentlemen of Salem and Boston signed a 
 letter of sympathy, approval and good wishes to Gov- 
 ernor Hutchinson. Doctor Cooper says that many of 
 these are unreliable men, Avho will turn their party when 
 gain lies in the change ; and others, like j\Ir. Warley, are 
 King's men from bribes and petty spite ; but many others 
 are honestly loyal to the King, and would lose their for- 
 tunes or die in his cause, as their conscience so dictates. 
 Now such men I honor ; and surely it must be a comfort 
 to the Governor in his mischances to have their counsel. 
 Doctor Cooper has been reading to us a book, brought 
 by the same ship which carried our bad news ; it is writ- 
 ten by Josiah Tucker, Dean of Gloucester, and Doctor 
 Cooper says that he never thought to find a book that he 
 liked so heartily, written by a churchman and an Eng- 
 lishman. The Dean reasons, and clearly shows, that 
 England should permit the Colonies to set up for them- 
 selves as an independent nation ; then, as allies, each 
 country woukl grow stronger, and a most notable com- 
 merce would spring up. Peaceable separation is what 
 the worthy Dean demands. Oh, that his voice might be 
 heeded. The Doctor had also a letter, published by one 
 John Cartwright, on the 27th of March last, which 
 pleads in the same fashion for American freedom as a 
 means of glory and advancement to both England and 
 America. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 105 
 
 There is great bitterness against General Gage because 
 he is known to have promised the King " that he would 
 keep the Colonies quiet with four regiments ; " and more- 
 over it is known that he hath orders to arrest Samuel 
 Adams, Joseph Warren, and John Hancock, but he dares 
 not lay a finger on them, knowing that the Colonies 
 would rise at once in their defense. In view of the sad 
 condition of the public affairs, the people have asked 
 Governor Gage to proclaim a fast day ; but he refused, 
 saying that " it would be but an occasion for the pouring 
 forth of sedition from all the pulpits of the land." Sam- 
 uel Adams and Mr. Hancock came the evening after this 
 refusal, to call on Doctor Cooper and talk about our pres- 
 ent troubles. I was greatly struck with the words and 
 manner of Mr. Adams; he seemed to me like the grand 
 men of old, of whom I have read in history. Doctor 
 Cooper was for proclaiming the fast from every street-cor- 
 ner, in defiance of the Governor, but Mr. Adams replied : 
 
 " Let us wait. Patience is the grand characteristic of 
 the patriot." 
 
 Bessie and Mr. "Warley were present, having come in 
 to see me. They are full of confidence in General Gage, 
 and say that presently " these ringleaders " will be " sent 
 to England for punishment, and their estates confiscated." 
 Mr. "Warley said very rudely to Mr. Adams : 
 
 " I can not see why you men will persist in running 
 your heads into a noose. You have now reputation and 
 good fortunes, why not live content? But no, you must 
 expose yourselves to the name of rioters, and sacrifice all 
 your goods. Sirs, you will be reduced to beggary!" 
 
106 PATRIOT AND TORY : 
 
 Mr. Adams kept his temper well in hand. He stood 
 leaning on the mantel, and looking down on Mr. Warley, 
 who is but an insignificant-looking man. 
 
 '' Sir," he replied, " we do not expect you, a man who 
 came here but for gain, to sympathize with us, whose 
 fathers laid the foundations of this empire in the interests 
 of. freedom. Our fathers lived content on clams, muscles 
 and wild fruits while they planted these Colonies ; and 
 we, their sons, are emulous of their sacrifices. For my 
 own part, I liave been wont to converse w^ith poverty, 
 and if those who are unaccustomed to her company think 
 her ill to endure, for me, I can live happily with her 
 until my days end, if so be thus I can serve my 
 country." 
 
 I remembered what says my grandfather : "" How hon- 
 orable is that man who fears naught but an evil con- 
 science." 
 
 Bessie tarried a,ll night with me. She talks very freely ; 
 says that her father has lived beyond his fortune, and is 
 deep in debt, and that she is only like to get what my 
 grandmother will leave her. She says if her father had 
 property like Adams or Hancock nothing would persuade 
 him to risk it as they do — not for a thousand kings or 
 countries ; and that now his sole hope is that the fortunes 
 of these rebels will be confiscated, and that by some 
 means he may get a share out of it. I told Bessie that 
 it seemed shameful for a man to stand by seeking the 
 ruin of neighbors who had never harmed him. But she 
 only replied all was fair in love or war. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 107 
 
 June 12, 1774. 
 
 Governor Gage has vice-regal powers as commander-in- 
 chief of all this continent; but men who know how mat- 
 ters stand say that he is quite unequal to the task of deal- 
 ing with America. The other Colonies have been heard 
 from. New Yark has come nobly to the help of Boston. 
 They recommend a General Congress, and bid Boston 
 stand firm, and all the Colonies would come to her help. 
 But since this was done a new meeting has been called, 
 and the Royalists, the merchants who fear to ruin trade, 
 and the careful men, like John Jay, have proposed great 
 caution, and repress any further movement of the "Sons 
 of Liberty.'' Philadelphia did not respond to Paul Pe- 
 vere's news as warmly as did New York. Farmer Dick- 
 inson is there at the head of affairs, in Franklin's absence. 
 He proposes a Congress, but expects representations to 
 the King to set matters right, and feels that Boston has 
 been over-hasty, and is like to drag the whole country 
 with her to ruin. 
 
 On the 1st of June Governor Hutchinson sailed for 
 England, and at noon the closing of the port took place. 
 Not even a row-boat can 'pass from pier to pier. Not a 
 bundle of hay or a sheep can be carried from the harbor 
 islands. All is silent here; and at once work is stopped, 
 and starvation seems to approach. But Boston does not 
 suffer unheeded. At the hour when our port closed, all 
 the bells in Philadelphia tolled, the flags were at half- 
 mast, the houses and shops were shut, the people repaired 
 to the churches to pray for us in our calamity When he 
 heard of this, Samuel Adams said: 
 
108 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 "They mourn for us as for a dead city; they shall be- 
 hold our resurrection." 
 
 Connecticut and Rhode Island, and all the Massachu- 
 setts towns, send encouraging letters; also from Maryland' 
 has come such a word of encouragement as has made all 
 our patriots here glad. Grandfather sent to Dame War- 
 ren a letter which he had from Uncle Matthew Temple, 
 from A^irginia. Patrick Henry, Lee and AVashington 
 take our part. They have appointed a day of fasting and 
 prayer, and all go in mourning to the churches. Beside 
 this, from all parts of the country food is being sent to 
 Boston — rice, corn, fish, wheat, meat, vegetables — from 
 every poor little mountain village and fishing station, from 
 every planter in the lovely South, we are getting help for 
 this time of adversity. England now will see that the 
 Colonies are one. Dr. Cooper preached a very good ser- 
 mon on the text: "And whether one member suifer, all 
 the other members suffer with it." I would it could be 
 printed in England, perhaps then we would be better un- 
 derstood. But of all comfort that has come to us, I think 
 the patriots here most prize that offered by Georgia and 
 the Carolinas. Of all the Colonies, South Carolina has 
 most ties with England. Carolina, Mr. Adams says, has 
 derived more profit and jDrotection from the mother 
 country, and has met less restrictions than any other Col- 
 ony. In fact, it is said that Carolina has no private cause 
 of complaint, and if any Colony is to withdraw from the 
 American cause and hold to the mother country, Carolina 
 would be most justified in so doing; and if Carolina 
 cleaves to the Continental side it will be pure patriotism 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 109 
 
 and self-sacrifice on lier part. And yet from Carolina 
 comes a letter which has made our stoutest hearts shed 
 tears of joy, and has been handed from one person to an- 
 other, that all may read the good words. Dr. Cooper had 
 it, and I copied this bit: 
 
 "The whole continent must be animated by one soul, 
 and all must stand by each other unto death;" they "re- 
 membered that the happiness of many generations, and of 
 many millions, depends on their spirit and constancy." 
 
 I think the souls of these good men must be as beau- 
 tiful as their land, where winter never comes, but flowers 
 bloom and birds sing all the year, and they put at stake 
 this good inheritance for our sakes, who dwell by stormy 
 seas among the snows. 
 
 June 26, 1774. 
 
 Grandfather has written for me to return home. He 
 had meant me to stay here a year, but he finds the state 
 of the country so unsettled, and the city of Boston in such 
 a degree the center of the distress, that he desires to have 
 me under his own roof for the present. Grandfather 
 says the war will be ended in two years or so, and then 
 I will not be too old to learn, and can return to Boston to 
 finish my lessons. I am glad to be back with grandfather. 
 People are kind here, but no one loves me. Moreover, I 
 fear I shall be lead to do wrong. I do not suppose it was 
 wicked to read Mr. Pope's "Rape of the Lock," — and, 
 indeed, Belinda is so like my Cousin Bessie that I laughed 
 all the time I was reading it; but reading that poem was 
 not the worst of it, for Bessie brought me a book of plays, 
 and I was so fond of reading, that, like a silly girl, I be- 
 
11 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 gan at once upon it; but, as good luck would have it, 
 Doctor Cooper came in as I had read but a page, and he 
 took it away, and said he knew not as any soap was strong 
 enough to cleanse the hands after touching the covers of 
 such trash. Yet he made up to me the loss by giving 
 me "Froissart's Chronicles," on my promise to read no 
 books until he had passed opinion on them. I also al- 
 lowed Bessie to dress my hair in a tower, after the Eng- 
 lish style, with powder; and Doctor Cooper seeing that, 
 did hand me the Bible open at Isaiah iii. 16: about the 
 daughters of Zion who are haughty; and thereat I blushed, 
 and tears came into my eyes for shame. I know Doctor 
 Cooper thinks I am dreadful, and he Avould think me 
 worse if he knew what nonsense and compliments were 
 talked at Mr. Warley's the last time I was at tea there, 
 and a foolish British ensign gave me a rose; and I was 
 quite pleased at their gossip. About 7 o'clock Richard Reid 
 came in, and before long he said he would take me back to 
 Doctor Cooper's — not at all as asking my leave, but as giv- 
 ing his orders. Still I rose and got my hat, though Bessie 
 bade me not, for I feared if I did not go with Mr. Reid, 
 Bessie would manage to send that ensign instead of her 
 maid, as she promised, and so Dr. Cooper would be angry in- 
 deed. Richard Reid said nothing, but walked by me as if 
 on guard, until we reached the door-stone, when he said : 
 
 " Those were not companions such as your grandmother 
 would approve. Miss Temple." 
 
 The thought of his reproving me, the great cross creat- 
 ure ! — and only a matter of ten years or so older. I will 
 never speak to him again. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 Ill 
 
 And so I am going lionie, and am very glad of it. I 
 shall go as I came, for Dame Warren returns to Plymouth 
 sooner than she thought. 
 
 July 6, 1774. 
 
 I am at home with my grandfather. He thinks me 
 improved. I try to keep up my French and drawing, 
 though grand- 
 m other a p- 
 p rove s n e i- 
 ther. The 
 harpsichord I 
 must forget, as 
 I have none to 
 play upon. I 
 m i s s great- 
 grandfather so 
 much ; he and 
 
 I used to talk 
 by the hour 
 
 II n d e r the 
 trees, and he 
 loved birds 
 and flowers as 
 simply as a 
 child. Grand- 
 father is al- 
 ways busy at "I am at Home with my Grandfather." 
 
 his sermons, and grandmother sits by him knitting ; there 
 seems to be no one just for mc, yet I will .say it was very 
 good of Pompcy to keep my flower-borders all in order 
 
112 PATRIOT AXD TOBY: 
 
 while I was gone; he aud Xervey are right glad to have 
 me back. Again I am learning to make pies, and butter, 
 and cheese, aud am rearing fowls, and spinning endless 
 skeins of yarn in the garret. Thomas Otis is back at 
 Dame Warren's, and sometimes he comes here fur the 
 day, and then we go to the shore and fish, and find shells, 
 and sail boats, or row out in a boat ourselves; also, we 
 go to the pastures after strawberries. Thomas tells me 
 that several of the lads in his school are ready to go 
 the defense of their country as soon as they are needed. 
 They have all muskets and powder-horns, and have 
 melted all the lead which they could get, and have run it 
 into balls. All these requirements are kept for them by a 
 negro man livino^ near the school, and when men are 
 called for, off they will go. After one of our talks, 
 Thomas reminded me of the lock of hair which I was 
 to give him, and asked for it then, as perhaps a call might 
 come any night, and he might go off without seeing me. 
 I gave him a good lock (I know grandmother would 
 not like it), and I promised him I would give none to 
 any one else. But Thomas might know I would not I — 
 whom should I give it to, pray? 
 
 James Warren hath a letter from Boston saying that a 
 gun-ship lies in tlie harbor, four regiments are landed, 
 and the tov\'n is in a ferment; but into the city are com- 
 ing constantly trains of sheep and beef cattle, and Avagon- 
 loads of flour, fish, and so forth. 
 
 August 20, 1774. 
 
 Grandfather had a letter from Doctor Cooper. He said 
 that Israel Putnam rode into town the other day, bring- 
 
ONE iiu2;bred years ago. 
 
 113 
 
 ing an hundred and thirty sheep as a gift from Brooklyn 
 Parish, and the streets were lined with crowds cheering 
 the old hero. It was under Israel Putnam that my father 
 Avas fio-htino; when he was killed in Pontiac's War. Israel 
 Putnam went to Doctor Warren's for dinner, and even 
 some of the British officers came to see the old hero. 
 INIajor Small said to him : 
 
 "If Boston does not submit speedily, twenty ships of 
 the line and twenty regiments will come from Britain." 
 
 Said Putnam : 
 
 " If they come 
 I am ready to 
 treat them as en- 
 emies." 
 
 Also the Dele- 
 gates to the Gen- 
 eral Congress in 
 Philadelphia 
 have set forth, 
 and were escort- 
 ed by numbers 
 so far as AVater- 
 town. They are 
 accompanied by 
 the pravers of 
 
 i •' CARPENTER S HALL. 
 
 good men like- (Where the first Congress met.) 
 
 wise, and so many like my grandfather are praying that 
 wisdom, and gentleness, and patience may be given them, 
 and judgment, and kindness may be in the counsels of 
 England, that surely we shall have peace and not war. 
 
114 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 And yet it is not peace with slavery that we want, l)ut 
 peace and liberty ! There have been times, both in the 
 meeting-house and at home, when, as my grandfatlier has 
 stood praying for the success of the cause of liberty, 
 he has been as one inspired, and has seemed, like the 
 prophets of old-time, to have his face shine with a light 
 from heaven. Then all who hear him hold their breath 
 in awe and wonder, that so a man can talk with God. 
 Richard Reid was in our church last Sabbath, when 
 grandfather was uncommonly fervent in prayer. After 
 the preaching, he said to grandfather : 
 
 "Sir, such prayers must conquer victory for the Colo- 
 nies." 
 
 But Richard Reid tells us very sore tales of, the troubles 
 about Boston, and indeed in all the Colony. Ail the 
 King's mandamus councilors have been intimidated, so 
 that they dare not serve. The " Sons of Liberty " have 
 dealt in such fashion with one after another that they will 
 venture to give no advice ; and now General Gage, Avho 
 came here promising to "play the lion," is becoming 
 alarmed. He has neither been so wise as a serpent, nor 
 so harmless as a dove. The Governor has also begun to 
 fortify Boston Neck, fearing to remain longer in Salem. 
 Yet though the artisans of Boston have been all this 
 while without work, and are dependent on the charity of 
 neighboring cities for food, they will not labor for the 
 Governor on works which shall be used against their 
 towns people. 
 
 This disturbance at Boston sends a troubled feeling into 
 all our villao;es. Men leave their work early to go and 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 115 
 
 drill ill the fields and by the road-sides. Every one has 
 his sword and musket bright and ready for use, and not 
 a day passes but one hears the sound of fife and drum. 
 Yet, as the little dove cooed on her nest Avhen grandfather 
 told his tales of war, and rang out his cry for a charge, 
 so alongside this stream of public trials, of arming and 
 drilling, of alarms, and wrath, glides the quiet current of 
 
 "This disturbance sends a troubled feeling into all our villages." 
 
 life at home, like some slow stream that scarce disturbs 
 the leaves of its water-lilies. I do not see that flowers 
 bloom less bright, nor birds are less glad, nor bees less 
 busy, than before these troubles came. And when, hour 
 after hour, in our long garret, grandmother, and Nervcy, 
 and I are each busy at a wheel, we hear Pompey and 
 Peter singing in the field, and see the yellow grain stoop- 
 ing under the breeze, and far beyond the harvest fields 
 that lie in the broad sunshine we catch the olimmcr of 
 
116 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 the waters and the white shine of foam-crests that curl 
 on Plymouth Bay. 
 
 On some days we get a very fair escape from the garret 
 and the monotonous hum of wheels. Such an escape we 
 had this last week. The blackberries are very fine and 
 plentiful, and grandmother said it would be well to make 
 large quantities of wine and cordial of them for the sick; 
 as, in case of war, there would be much demand for such 
 things. She bade me go and invite Mistress Hooper, and 
 Hannah Dana, and their servant lads to go with us, and 
 we would take our wagon to bring back the pails. I was 
 to carry my knitting and tarry with Hannah until milk- 
 ing-time. Grandmother has a great idea of my being 
 with Hannah. I was glad to go. All the world looked 
 very lovely, and I went slowly along knitting, so as not 
 to lose any time. I went to Mistress Hooper first, and 
 then to Deacon Dana's. I had not been long with Han- 
 nah before a tall, strong, rather handsome girl came in. 
 She had a pleasant face, a neat dress, and a bold, daring 
 look, as if she feared nothing. She went to her wheel, 
 and as I sat knitting on the doorstep by Hannah, I asked 
 her who this girl was. She said : 
 
 "It is Deborah Samson, who was indentured to old 
 Mistress Hooper. She was free last spring, and came to 
 us to work half times for her board, and so be able to 
 go to school." 
 
 "Can that be Deborah?" I said. "Deborah was gen- 
 erally sullen, and rough, and untidy. I remember her 
 when I was a little child ffoino- to the district school. She 
 was wont to wait for us at the yard gate as we returned 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 117 
 
 of afternoons, and ^ith an odd leaf or bit of ne^vspaper 
 ask us to tell her letters or words. Grandmother bade me 
 give her my horn-book when I had done ^Yith it, and after 
 a spelling-book, and then a Testament. Grandfather had 
 much controversy with Mistress Hooper because she so 
 seldon took the girl to church ; but she said she was 
 needed at home Sundays to mind the place while others 
 went to meeting. I often sat with Deborah beside the 
 stone wall for half-hours teaching her to read. But it is 
 some three years since I saw her, and I had forgotten her." 
 
 "Mistress Hooper gave her a pretty good .setting out 
 of clothes, because Deborah had nursed her so faithfully 
 through the fever," said Hannah. " Indeed, the old wo- 
 man bid her stay for wages ; but Deborah turned her back 
 on all offers and came to us, requesting to work for her 
 board and go to school. Father said m'C owed it to the 
 poor, friendless creature to help her so much as that, and 
 she has improved every hour. Her very looks have al- 
 tered, and the mistress and children at school say they 
 never saw such progress. I thought she would give up, 
 being a woman among children; but no, she rises by day 
 and toils at her book." 
 
 As we talked we saw Deborah, who was at her wheel at 
 the end of a long porch, casting sundry glances at the 
 black boy, who is an evil, idle imp. Presently she went 
 to him where he was cutting wood, seized him by the 
 collar, and flung him one side, took the ax and hewed the 
 wood with right good will, with strong, rapid strokes, like 
 a man. 
 
 " There ! " she said, giving back the ax, " work like 
 
118 PA TRIOT A SD TOE Y: 
 
 that — as if you meant something! A despiseable bov you 
 are, with your slowness ! " 
 
 I have never seen a woman half so strong; she is far 
 beyond Hannah. Hannah looked after her well pleased, 
 and said : 
 
 "I could almost love that girl." 
 
 " And why not love her ? " I asked. " Poor soul ! no 
 one has ever loved her, or had an interest in her." 
 
 And then I went to Deborah, who was at her wheel, 
 and giving her my hand, I said : 
 
 "You are so changed I did not know you." 
 
 She replied: 
 
 " I can never forget how good you were to me. I think 
 I would never have learned to read but for you. You 
 were my only helper." 
 
 I could do no less than bid her come to us if she wanted 
 a book or any help in her studies and she should have 
 what we could give, I then asked her to go next day Avith 
 us for blackberries. She said no — she had only time for 
 work, none for play. But as I explained the plan of my 
 grandmother her face changed; she looked full of eager- 
 ness, and said indeed she would go and pick with a will — 
 she would do any thing for her country. 
 
 When it was milking-time I set out for home, and Deb- 
 orah and Hannah went with me along the lane with their 
 pails in hand. Deborah talked earnestly about Avar. She 
 said she hoped war Avould come, to show what Americans 
 could do. For her part she wished she might go to battle, 
 and hated the thought that she was but a Avoman and 
 could do nothing Avorth Avhile for her countrv. I told her 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 119 
 
 what my grandfather says of the horrors of war, but she 
 seems to think war and battles are something grand and 
 splendid. 
 
 AVhen I reached home Pompey was mending the gate, 
 and looking after several of our young neighbors, who had 
 just come by from a training. Pompey said to me: 
 
 " Missey Abbey, wonder what white folk made of dat 
 'em likes guns and fightin' ? Nobody nebber ketch Pomp 
 doin' dat." 
 
 " But it is not because they like it, Pompey," I said ; 
 " but they are preparing, like honest men, to do their 
 duty." 
 
 "Hoh!" said Pompey, "dis nigger honest 'nuif, but neb- 
 ber see it him duty to fight. Why, folks gets hurt fightin', 
 missey ! " 
 
 "AVell, can not they suffer for their country?" 
 
 "Mebby dey kin, ef dey has one," said Pompey; "but 
 Pompey nebber hab no country. Africa ought to bin 
 Pomp's country, but missed it somehow; and now nebber 
 fight nohow." 
 
 "But suppose people come here to attack us in our 
 house, would not you and Peter fight for us then?" 
 
 "Xo; run and take care ob own skin." 
 
 " But there is Nervey, your wife — you would protect her." 
 
 " No ; let Nervey look after self — plenty big 'nuif, mis- 
 sey." 
 
 "Oh, are you not ashamed to be such a coward? I 
 should think vou'd blush at such ideas?" I cried, ano-rilv. 
 
 "Can't blush; brack folks don't blush. Like to be a 
 coward, missey — coward save a whole skin." 
 
1 20 PATRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 "And you would not try to defend the j^eople who 
 have taken care of you all your life? What would you 
 do, pray?" 
 
 " Holler and beg, and promise anyting, do anyting, 
 say anyting, tell anyting, and run away so fast as can, 
 missey." 
 
 " I am diso-usted with such a coward ! " I said. 
 
 "Can't help it, missey. Coward sleep, eat, get warm, 
 hab tings taste just as good as nudder man. Better to lib 
 long like coward dan to die pretty soon cause he mighty 
 brabe." 
 
 And so this is the home-guard we should have if the 
 war came this way! Grandfather, old and not very 
 strong, having all his life been a student; three black 
 people to shriek "quarter" and run away; and grand- 
 mother and me. Still, a war like this wdiich we dread, 
 would not be like Indian wars, with barbarous murders 
 of women and children, and scalping, and burning, and 
 torture. 
 
 October 1, 1774. 
 
 Perhaps I must take back those last lines that I wrote. 
 It is said that Governor Gage has threatened to hire In- 
 dians to fight against the Colonies! Grandfather says 
 that there will be as great indignation at this in England 
 as here, and that every right-minded Englishman will de- 
 test the spirit that would set barbarians to murder and 
 pillage Christian people. But moi*e than this, there has 
 been a terrible excitement because the Governor, on the 
 first day of September, took from the magazine at Tem- 
 ple's Farm, Charleston, two hundred and fifty barrels of 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 121 
 
 powder and two field-pieces. This so exasperated the peo- 
 ple that thousands of men seized their arms and marched 
 forth, and were hardly persuaded to go home. Again a 
 rumor was that Israel Putnam had been captured in Con- 
 necticut, and another that British ships were bombarding 
 Boston. In less than thirty-six hours all this region of 
 country was in arms, and companies of militia were crowd- 
 ing all the roads. Full thirty thousand men rose at each 
 call, and without tumult, but without hesitation, directed 
 their steps to what they thought the point of danger, and 
 only returned when assured that the alarm was false. A 
 company who had been marching since midnight in cross- 
 roads came through our farm, and they halted while grand- 
 mother gave them breakfast. Grandmother made two 
 huge kettles of mush, and Nervey and I milked all the 
 cows, and then we passed the mush and milk about in all 
 the bowls, basins, pans and kettles which we could find. 
 Then grandfather made a short prayer, and they went on 
 much refreshed. At night this same company were return- 
 ing, and they stopped and gave us three cheers, but would 
 take nothing. Pompey and Peter vanished at the first 
 military sounds,, and did not return for twenty-four hours; 
 they came very hungry, having hidden in fodder-stacks 
 in a distant field. They said they thought the "sodgers" 
 were going to cut off our heads, and so they ran to save 
 their own. I should think Nervey would hate Pompey 
 for that ; but she seemed to think it very funny of him to 
 take such good care of his skin. 
 
122 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 November 20, 177-4. 
 117IXTER has come upon us, and we are, for the most 
 part, shut up from the outside world. We have been 
 Avaiting with some anxiety for letters from Uncle John 
 
 Temple, on 
 
 whom we rel y 
 to supply us 
 with news of 
 the Conti- 
 nental Con- 
 gress, which 
 met on the 5th 
 day of Sep- 
 tember. At 
 last the post 
 has come. 
 Grandfather 
 and I went 
 for the let- 
 t e r s an d 
 brought back 
 two, one from 
 Uncle John 
 Temple, one 
 from Uncle 
 Matthew, in 
 
 Virgina. We sent word by Peter to some of our neighbors, 
 and next day they came about 12 o'clock, to hear what 
 
 
 " Grandfather and I went for letters.' 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 123 
 
 had been done. Grandmother had a qnllt on the frame 
 in our common room, and Hannah Dana and Deborah 
 Samson came over oifering to quilt ; but that was only an 
 excuse to get opportunity to listen to the great news. 
 Just as grandfather took out his letters, up rode James 
 "Warren, covered with snow. He also had a letter; his 
 was from Samuel Adams. From hearing these letters, 
 and what was said, I gathered what I here set down : and 
 I am quite sure of being right, for I took the pages to 
 grandfather to be corrected. There were fifty-five mem- 
 bers at the Congress. Patrick Henry was the great ora- 
 tor; Ivutledge stands next him in debate; and for judg- 
 ment and authoritv Colonel Washington stood before them 
 all. Peyton Randolph, of Virginia, was chosen President, 
 and one Charles Thompson was Secretary. Samuel Ad- 
 ams suspects that they had a traitor or two among them 
 from the start; but that is not to be marveled at, says 
 grandfather — Judas was of the twelve. The Congress — 
 for this name they took — was opened by prayer and read- 
 ing of the thirty-fifth Psalm by Reverend Mr. Duche, an 
 Episcopalian clergyman — the pastor, as I remcml^er, of 
 Mr. Scaforth. The whole desire of this Congress seemed 
 to be for peace, and they were willing to make many con- 
 cessions to obtain the favor of the king. Farmer Dick- 
 inson drew up a petition to the King full of wishes for 
 conciliation, and enumerating only recent acts of oppres- 
 sion, and asking only for peace, liberty, and safety, with 
 a righteous regard for our charters. Nevertheless, on the 
 motion of Mr. Adams they recommended tlie Colonics to 
 prepare arms and ammunition, and study carefully the art 
 
124 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 of war. The Colonies also prepared an address to the 
 people of Quebec Province, and to Nova Scotia and New 
 Brunswick. They approved the opposition of Massachu- 
 setts to the tyranny exercised toward her, and promised 
 to stand by the people of the Bay until death. They also 
 agreed, after the first day of December next, to stop en- 
 tirely the slave-trade. The neighbors all said that this 
 was a good motion, and like. In the event, to end the 
 system of slave-holding bestowed by Britain upon us, but 
 contrary to the laws of nature and conscience, and also 
 contrary to those principles for which the Colonies avow 
 themselves ready to fight. Grandfather said a word 
 which explained our Pompey to me : 
 
 " Slaves have no country. A man without a country is 
 bound to be a coward and a traitor. When political 
 storms arise he is like a ship without anchor-hold, danger- 
 ous in its drifting to any fleet that it may be lying with." 
 
 This Congress also addressed itself, not to kings and 
 councils chiefly, but to the commons, to the people — the 
 people of Great Britain, the people of the Provinces, the 
 people of the Colonies. Said James Warren : 
 
 " It is not the fiivor of lords and princes, but the popu- 
 lar heart which will carry our cause to triumph." 
 
 The Congress adjourned to meet May next. It had 
 been said by some that jealonsies and enmities between 
 the Colonies and between the members, would sow dis- 
 cords and make this meeting but a brawl. Instead, it is 
 declared that the whole Congress was conducted with a 
 kindness, a generosity, a dignity, and a deep earnestness 
 w^hich all ages must admire ; and James Warren said a 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 125 
 
 correct record of such an assembly, and such discussions, 
 must enlighten the people of England concerning us, and 
 convince them of certain mistakes they had fallen into. 
 
 After reading the letters about the Congress, my grand- 
 father read that from Uncle Matthew Temple. He has 
 been on business to Annapolis, and while he was there 
 the brig Peggy Stewart came in from England with two 
 thousand three hundred and twenty pounds of tea. The 
 owner made haste to pay the duty thereupon, and so 
 deeply offended the public. A committee kept constant 
 watch to prevent the landing of the tea, and great meet- 
 ings were held, so angry in temper that the owner of the 
 herb saw that he had made a sad mistake. He sent writ- 
 ten regrets and apologies, but they were not accepted — 
 these would not atone for an act that might involve the 
 whole Colony of ]\Iaryland. He, then, seeing no escape, 
 said that he would burn the tea; but still the people did 
 not esteem this meet compensation. Finally he declared 
 lie would burn brig and tea. This offer was accepted. 
 The sailors came ashore with their effects, and the owners 
 and importers went aboard the doomed Peggy Stewart, set 
 her sails and left the colors flying, then set the fire blaz- 
 ing and came back to the wharf, where an immense crowd 
 stood to see the ship burn at anchor, until she was fully 
 consumed. 
 
 I felt sorry for the owners, poor men; but then they 
 should have remembered that the Colonists have a great 
 principle at stake, and can make no concessions. 
 
 From Annapolis Uncle Matthew, his business there 
 being finished, went to Philadelphia, which he reached 
 
126 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 after Congress had adjourned. He went with Uncle John 
 to a meeting of some gentlemen, and there the talk 
 turned on the acts of the Congress, and on the declaration 
 that they had made that Massachusetts Bay folk were 
 right, and should be maintained to the death by all the 
 Colonies. Mr. Seaforth was there. He wished much that 
 Boston had been bidden to submit and pay for the tea, 
 and apologize for her contumacy. Said Mr. Seaforth : 
 
 "The king will never forgive Boston, nor forgive 
 Congress for supporting the acts of that city. It is true 
 the king is not heeding his best councilors, but as he 
 lists he will do, and he will turn all the power of Britain on 
 these Colonies, and crush them as one would an egg-shell." 
 
 Said Uncle Matthew: 
 
 " You reason like one who leaves God out of account. 
 God will maintain our cause and plead for our rights, and 
 one thousand shall flee at the rebuke of live." 
 
 Mr. Seaforth replied : 
 
 " I prognosticate failure, just because I take God into 
 account. He will not prosper the rebellious people. He 
 will fio;ht ao^alnst the Colonies as He did airainst Absalom 
 and Benjamin." 
 
 Mr. Reid was present, and he said he trusted that the 
 two countries would yet make mutual concessions, and 
 that peace would be more firmly established than ever 
 before. 
 
 " No," said Mr. Seaforth, " you do not comprehend the 
 temper of our king and his present ministers. They will 
 not yield one iota of their authority." 
 
 Uncle John spoke up : 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 127 
 
 " And we will not yield one tittle of our rights." 
 
 Mr. Seaforth looked at Uncle John ; his faced worked ; 
 tears overflowed his eyes; he held out his hand: 
 
 " My friend, my friend, you are rushing on your own 
 doom ! But, John Temple, when your cause is lost, and 
 the vengeance of England falls on such stalwart Colonists 
 as you are, I shall stand by you ; and if my intercessions 
 and all my fortunes can buy your pardon, all shall be 
 yours. Depend on me to stand by you when the conse- 
 quences of this M'ork are heavier than you can bear 
 alone." 
 
 The two men shook hands heartily, and Uncle INIatthew 
 says that every man in the room seemed deeply moved. 
 
 December 1, 1774. 
 
 Winter brings little variety in our lives. Grandmother 
 and Xervey and I have been busy at the looms. Our 
 flax was very good this year, and our linen is truly beau- 
 tiful — the best in the neighborhood. We have also woven 
 some dresses for grandmother and for me ; they are of 
 cotton, with a narrow silk stripe. We got silk for the 
 stripe by raveling out a silk shawl of grandmother's. 
 We have also woven a blanket for my room. Deborah 
 Samson came to help us weave the blanket ; she is so 
 grateful to us for lending her two or three books, and for 
 helping her on with her lessons. Grandfather says Deb- 
 orah has a wonderful talent for learning. I offered to 
 teach her what I knew of French and drawing, but she 
 said no, she had no need of fine studies, for she was not 
 like to be reckoned a lady ; what she wanted was cipher- 
 ing and reading and such other studies as should make 
 9 
 
1 28 P^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 her, in my grandfather's opinion, fit to teach the district 
 school. She reads aloud to me sometimes, to practice; 
 and when she is moved or agitated she has such deep, pe- 
 culiar tones to her voice as I shall never forget. The 
 other day, as she was working out a long sum which my 
 grandfather had given her, she pushed back the thick 
 black hair which she wears always oddly pulled down 
 over her ears, and I saw that a piece had been cut out 
 of the rim of her right ear, making a queer mark. I did 
 not mean to look curiously at any personal defect, for 
 that my grandmother has taught me is a rudeness ; but 
 Deborah felt her ear uncovered, and suddenly pointing to 
 the place, said : 
 
 " That is all that I have to remember my mother by. 
 She threw a hatchet at me and cut that. That was the 
 final reason for the township taking us children from 
 our parents. I was one of the youngest. My eldest 
 brother and sister died ; the next brother went South ; the 
 youngest girl was carried to Canada by one who adopted 
 her, and I fell to Mistress Hooper, who was neither good 
 nor evil to me, but only judged that I had no brains for 
 study and no soul for religion." 
 
 She spoke so earnestly that I grieved for her, and for 
 her pitiful fortunes and bitter memories. I said, gently: 
 
 " AVell, Deborah, you have proved your brains by tak- 
 ing now to your studies ; and as to the religion, you have 
 your Bible, and grandfather asks you to meeting far 
 oftener than you come. Your past is done ; let it be as 
 if it had never been ; but your future is yours : to be a 
 wise and Christian woman, if you so will." 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 129 
 
 Poor Deborah shook her head. 
 
 "Abbey Temple, you at fifteen, having parents and 
 grand-parents to thank for it, are a little lady, and a Chris- 
 tian, and a pretty scholar; and I, at nineteen, am a big, 
 rough lout, puzzling my brains over sums, and with noth- 
 ing to boast of but muscles. The child of drunkards. 
 Mistress Hooper's bound girl, can not be what you point 
 out. But my future is mine ; I see it lifting up great and 
 dim before me sometimes ; and I u-ill make it such a 
 future as many shall hear about." 
 
 Then she went back to her slate and would talk no 
 
 more. I Avonder what she has it in her mind to do ? In 
 
 Boston a colored woman named Phillis — one who was 
 
 brought a slave from Africa — has become quite learned, 
 
 and a poet. I w^onder if Deborah means any thing like 
 
 that? 
 
 January 2, 1775. 
 
 In winter here it seems to me that we are like sailors, 
 of whom I have read, who are locked up in Northern 
 seas. By some of our storms we arc cut ofT from our 
 nearest neighbors; the snow drifts in at doors and win- 
 dows, and lies, day and night, a little white frilling 
 (which the blaze in the fire-place does not reach,) about 
 the sills. The fences are buried ; the corn and straw 
 stacks show- like white hillocks; the outbuildings are 
 lost, and Peter and Pompey are all day cutting out paths 
 to the barn, and from their cabins to the house ; indeed, 
 I often think that the cabin will be quite buried, and 
 that grandfather and grandmother and I will be obliged 
 to u;o and dig our servants from a mound of snow, as I 
 
130 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 have heard the Swiss dig out huts that have beeu covered 
 by avahmches. This is our case in stormy winters. At 
 other times it is not so bad, and we are able to see our 
 neighbors and to get our letters from Plymouth town. 
 Being for so many weeks in a state of siege from storm 
 makes a guest very welcome, and we regard strangers as 
 the old patriarchs did: as having not only a claim on 
 our hospitality, but on our gratitude, for coming to our 
 doors. This morning we had two such guests ; and 
 though we had never seen them before, and though they 
 do not quite share my grandfather's sentiments on many 
 matters, still we were very glad to see them ; and my 
 grandmother set her table with the linen her mother 
 spun, and with our best willow pattern blue-and-white 
 china, and with the silver we have had for two or three 
 generations. Grandmother also put on her silk gown 
 in the afternoon, and Nervey mounted a splendid turban, 
 which Mr. Seaforth fetched from England on my uncle's 
 order twenty years ago ; so Nervey's turban is older 
 than I am, but looks quite as fresh as I do. 
 
 Our guests are two English officers, a captain and an 
 ensign ; and very pretty gentlemen they are, and so well 
 read that my grandfather took much satisfaction in their 
 company. My grandmother also was well pleased with 
 them, and questioned them much about the dress and 
 manners and ways of English women ; and when the 
 ensign complimented her, and told her she was like a 
 London lady — in fact like his aunt, whose husband is a 
 counselor-at-law — my grandmother took it not amiss. 
 However, the ensign proceeded yet further, in making 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 131 
 
 himself agreeable, to flatter me ; but my grandmother 
 checked him, betimes, short and sharp. 
 
 " Abbey," quoth she, " is but a child, although she is 
 well grown, and she knows not what to make of your 
 compliments, nor am I desirous that she should learn. 
 The world is over-well provided with women who have 
 not tarried sufficiently long in girlhood." 
 
 These two officers are traveling about Plymouth Colony, 
 and are to go as far as Taunton and Providence, in service 
 of General Gage. Theirs is not a public mission, nor, in 
 truth, a secret one. The Governor, feeling uneasy, has 
 given these officers leave of absence for a journey, and 
 they are to visit the prominent men in the towns — as 
 James Warren, and the ministers, as my grandfather — and 
 get a view of the state of mind of the people in the 
 country and towns of lesser note than Boston and Cam- 
 bridge. Our gentlemen had been for a day and a night 
 with Mr. AVarren, and are vastly pleased with Dame 
 Mercy, although they think her tone to the mother coun- 
 try is too bitter. 
 
 At dinner the captain asked my grandfather did he and 
 his neighbors intend to sustain the course of Boston. 
 
 " Sir, we do," said grandfather. 
 
 "And on what grounds?" asked the captain. 
 
 "On the ground that Boston has been treated with tyr- 
 anny." 
 
 Then quoth the ensign, pettishly : 
 
 "You are a good man, and must be ruled by righteous 
 laws. Where find you a law for resisting tyranny, 
 granted, even, that tliere has been tyranny?" 
 
132 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " Sir," said my grandfather, '' the law of resisting tyr- 
 anny has from time immemorial been written npon the 
 hearts of Englishmen ; and you are not to think that, be- 
 ing transplanted to this country, we lose the characteris- 
 tics of our old stock." 
 
 Indeed I think my grandfather was more than equal to 
 them both, for further on they said : 
 
 "You talk of charter in these Colonies; but in sooth 
 you are going beyond chartered liberties." 
 
 " Sir," returned grandfather, " our charter was not 
 meant to supercede any of our natural or divine rights. 
 We hold those on higher authority still. Charter says 
 nothing about rights to air and Avater; and' there are 
 liberties as wide and inalienably ours as our atmos- 
 phere." 
 
 Grandfather had in Deacon Dana and Isaiah Hooper 
 for the evening; also, he told the officers that the 
 Brown family were not of our way of thinking, and sent 
 Peter with the captain to show him the way to their 
 house, that he might talk with them. He returned be- 
 times, and said he to my grandfather: 
 
 "Do not disgrace honest Royalists by ranking such 
 people with them. Those are but Royalists for spite and 
 gain. They would be treacherous to either party for 
 money." 
 
 As these gentlemen were leaving they shook hands with 
 grandfather and said: 
 
 "No one hopes more than do we that this dispute will 
 be peaceably settled. We belong firmly to our King's 
 cause, but we are loath to fight with you Americans. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 133 
 
 You have, indeed, very much of right and justice on 
 your side." 
 
 So they rode off, with grandfather's blessing. 
 
 April, 1775. 
 
 At Boston, they have commemorated the massacre, 
 Joseph Warren being orator. Marblehead, Danvers, and 
 Salem have been ransacked by British troops for stores. 
 The soldiers at Boston have emulated our worst deeds, 
 and have exasperated the people by tarring and feather- 
 ing a country fellow from Billerica. Over all the country 
 the fires of revolution seem bursting up. In A^irginia, 
 Patrick Henry inspires all men by his oratory ; and along 
 our stormy shores the fishers are arming to protect their 
 
 right to the produce of the sea At last war 
 
 has broken out, blood has been shed! Eight hundred 
 British troops marched for Concord on the 18th, to cap- 
 ture the stores and cannon. But Dawes and Paul Revere 
 rode off from Boston to rouse the country; from the North 
 Church tower the beacon streamed the signal to the 
 watching towns near by; and as Paul Revere rushed 
 through the farms and hamlets in the clear night he 
 called all men to arms upon the way to Lexington. 
 Young men and old, farmers, and pastors, went out with 
 powder-horn and gun, and so, early on the morning of 
 the 19th, the Minute Men made stand at Lexington. 
 Trained troops well armed, and countrymen half pre- 
 pared, were illy matched for fight. It Avas only for a lit- 
 tle while that guns were fired and shots were heard ; and 
 then the regulars had all their own way, and the country 
 people fled, and seven of the Minute Men were lying dead 
 
134 PATRIOT AND TOEY: 
 
 on the common ; and, however much men may now talk 
 of reconciliation, all know well that hopes of peace are 
 gone, and war has be_o;un. 
 
 The troops then went on and partly plundered Con- 
 cord, and then strove to tear up Concord Bridge. The 
 Minute Men were too quick for them, fired, drove them 
 oif, and held their bridge. At noon the British troops 
 drew back toward I^exington. The Minute Men lay in 
 ambush at every wall and tree, followed their way, and 
 so pushed their enemies into a rapid retreat until two. 
 Then the battle was renewed by Percy's men, and lasted 
 all day, until eighty-eight Americans and two hundred and 
 seventy-three Britons were killed, wounded, or missing. 
 After this terrible day the post-carriers and messengers 
 rode day and night, carrying the news, and calling the 
 country to arms, and bidding men, and arms, and stores 
 be sent forward to Cambridge. 
 
 To our house came a messenger by day-break. He 
 was covered with dust, and his horse with blood and 
 foam. He told the terrible story while I ran for a bowl 
 of warm milk, and Nervey and grandmother flew to tlie 
 stable and put saddle on our one fleet horse. Prince 
 Charlie. They were obliged to do this, for at the man's 
 first shout, and at the beat of hoofs, Pompey and Peter 
 fled, as if the whole British army were on us. Grand- 
 father stood as a man stunned at the news. As the mes- 
 senger leaped on Prince Charlie, and Nervey led away 
 the poor, tired-out roan, grandfather paced up and down 
 our common room, crying; "Lord, pity us. This is 
 civil war. xVh ! all that tide of brother's blood." And 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 135 
 
 so ho wrung his hands, and tears poured over his face; 
 for he has so long prayed for peace, and now here is 
 war ! My grandmother went about collecting clothes and 
 stores to send to Cambridge; and grandfather, after the 
 first burst of sorrow, went to bid his neighbors good-bye. 
 I ran over to Isaiah Hooper's, and found him dressing 
 quickly, and his wife helping him, while she sobbed 
 aloud. The eldest little girl was putting him up a small 
 sack of food, and I set at aiding her ; but I was blind 
 from tears, and the three little ones Avere clinging about 
 their father's knees, praying him not to go and bo killed; 
 and I thought of my poor father, who went to Pontiac's 
 war, and never came back. 
 
 May 10, 1775. 
 
 From all parts of the country we get news of the arm- 
 ing, and of troops setting forth for Cambridge. There is 
 terrible anger at plundering and murder done by Percy's 
 men; and yet it is quite true that he sought to restrain 
 them, and could not. This, as my grandfather says, is one 
 of the great evils of war. It unchains the demons in men's 
 hearts, and they go to excess that in peace would seem 
 to them impossible. Massachusetts calls for an army of 
 thirteen thousand six hundred men. When the news 
 reached Connecticut, Israel Putnam was plowing. He 
 left his plow in the furrow, and set forth to Cambridge. 
 John Stark was in his mill sawing logs, and went oif in 
 his shirt sleeves, so great was his haste. But why do I 
 only think of those distant? Our neighboi's are gone. 
 At Deacon Dana's they sent off Joseph as if each instant's 
 delay had been a crime ; and since he went the house is 
 
136 -P^ 2^^-f T AND TOR Y: 
 
 like a funeral ; they speak only of duty and the patriot's 
 glory, and at each sound turn pale, as if they heard men 
 carrying home Joseph's corpse. Mistress Hooper being 
 alone, and help very scarce in the fields, Deborah Samson 
 went over to bide with her ; and she will take no wages, 
 as Isaiah is in camp ; but Deborah does a man's work, 
 and is up betimes, plowing and planting by daybreak. 
 Also, she keeps the two servant lads well in hand, as 
 Mistress Hooper would not be able to do. Deborah has 
 also come to my grandfather, asking him to examine her 
 fitness to have the school this summer, and I think it 
 will be given her. 
 
 Many companies of militia have passed us, coming up 
 from Barnstable, Yarmouth, and Sandwich, and our farm 
 lying fronting the road which is their straightcst route, 
 we have seen much of them. My grandmother, and 
 Nervey, and Hannah Dana are constantly making bread, 
 and boiling beef and bacon, and setting out cheese; and 
 many hungry patriots have we fed in this way. Grand- 
 father going among them as they halt to eat, gives them 
 baskets of bread and other food, and therewith much good 
 exhortation and counsel. 
 
 June 1, IT 75. 
 
 I knew not what was taking place when I wrote my 
 former date. On that day Ticonderoga, a fort on Lake 
 Champlain, was captured by Ethan Allen, a rough but 
 valiant man. Strangely enough, though this fort was 
 most important, and had cost Britain eight millions ster- 
 ling, it was taken in ten minutes, without bloodshed — 
 "in the name of Jehovah and the Continental Congress," 
 
ONE HUNDRED YE AES AGO. I37 
 
 as said Ethan Allen, calling on Commander Delaplacc to 
 surrender. Grandfather says this is truly like Ethan 
 Allen, Avhom he knows well. He is no Christian man, 
 such as my grandfather, but he does believe in two 
 things — Jehovah and Congress — and about equally in 
 both ; and grandfather is only surprised that he put Con- 
 gress last in his summons. My grandfather says if indeed 
 our trust would be first in the Lord's arm, and then in 
 our righteous cause, as represented by our Congress, then 
 truly victory would soon be ours, at little cost. But doubt- 
 less we shall suffer much, because bitterness and trust in 
 the arm of the flesh will be in our hearts. Meanwhile all 
 the Colonies are rising to arms, and ready to sustain Mass- 
 achusetts; but some still hope for peace and for a recon- 
 ciliation to be eifected by this present Congress in Phila- 
 delphia. We are likely, so we hear from our friends in 
 camp, to suffer from a lack of supplies, from lack of dis- 
 cipline in our men, from want, also, of unanimity in coun- 
 sels, and of proper leaders. 
 
 Our neighbors have made up three wagon loads of 
 stores — clothes, food, powder, and the like — and have 
 added all the lead and pewter that we can find, and have 
 sent these on to Cambridge. Grandmother says if the 
 trouble continues the pewter spoons and dishes and pitch- 
 ers must be melted for bullets. How hard that would be 
 for grandmother, who had her pewter from her mother, 
 and values it so, keeping it l)right as silver ! but she speaks 
 calmly of melting it. 
 
138 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL. 
 
 July 26, 1775. 
 
 Once I wished greatly to have something to write about 
 other and greater than the changing of seasons, the com- 
 ing and going of birds and flowers, and the tasks of home 
 work, which are always the same. Now, when I seem 
 only to have war and bloodshed and sorrow to write, I can 
 not set it down. Thus, Dame Warren told me, it is ever 
 with us human beings, who never are satisfied. 
 
 On June loth the Continental Congress, sitting in Phila- 
 delphia, recognized the existence of an army called the 
 Continental Army, and unanimously chose Colonel George 
 Washington, of Virginia, as commander-in-chief. On 
 him, as the foremost son of the most powerful of the 
 Colonies, as brave in war, wise in peace, reserved in coun- 
 sel, the hearts of all the people seem to be set. My grand- 
 father paid him the highest compliment that he can bestow 
 on living man, when he heard of his election to the com- 
 mand of the army. He said: 
 
 "This is the man likest William the Silent of all men 
 that ever were born." 
 
 From this choice of George Washington, and the ap- 
 pointment of a day of fasting and prayer, to be kept in all 
 the Colonies, entreating God to preserve our liberties, and 
 reconcile us with the mother country, we might have hoped 
 much; but before ncM'S of these things reached us, we of 
 Massachusetts heard again the awful sound of war, and 
 buried the dead of Bunker Hill. 
 
 On June the 17th a dreadful battle was fought between 
 the Regulars and our xx>or half-armed Colonists. Charles- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 139 
 
 town was burned. Twice our men drove back the King's 
 troops, and then only failed to complete the victory be- 
 cause their powder gave out. From what we hear, the 
 King's men were bold indeed, and did wonders; but that 
 only shows more marvelously the courage of our farmers, 
 who fought so well. Oh ! what a grievous sight was that, 
 when wives and children 
 stood to see our patriots 
 falling; and the ground 
 was covered with dead 
 British, whom once all 
 Ave Americans loved so 
 well as if they were our 
 brothers. And that good 
 town of Charlestown was 
 burned. And when the 
 fight Avas done there 
 were found of the American loss, all counted, 450; and the 
 English loss was 1,050 ; for three times the Englisli marched 
 up that hill, while our guns poured their fire on them. But 
 we lost Moore, and Gardner, and Parker, and, worst of 
 all, that best of our patriots. Doctor Joseph Warren. When 
 Warren went to the field, Elbridge Gerry, so they say, 
 met him and begged him to save his life for a more hojje- 
 ful day, but he replied : 
 
 " It is pleasant and becoming to die for one's country." 
 
 The terrible news came to us the afternoon after the 
 
 day of battle. As the messenger stopped by our gate 
 
 grandfather ran forth bareheaded to hear the news. He 
 
 listened until the words came, "and Joseph Warren was 
 
 BATTLE OF BUNKEK HILL. 
 
1 40 -P^ TRIO T ASD TOR Y: 
 
 killed, the last in the trenches," and then he turned about, 
 unable to hear more, and went into the house; for he 
 loved \yarrcn, not only as a patriot, but as a friend and 
 son — for my grandfather was his teacher long ago, before 
 Warren went to Harvard. We did not see grandfather 
 until prayer-time, but we heard him pacing his room, 
 mourning and crying, "Would God I had died for thee, 
 my son, my son ! " At worship-time he composed himself 
 and came out, and opening the Bible he read from Sam- 
 uel, "The beauty of Israel is slain upon the high places; 
 how are the mighty fallen;" his voice trembled, but he 
 kept on until he reached the words, "I am distressed for 
 thee, my brother," when he broke into sobs, and could read 
 no more. All night he remained walking up and down 
 the common room, praying for the wounded and for pris- 
 oners, for widows and orphans, and for the afflicted land. 
 Grandmother says she fears grandfather will die of a bro- 
 ken heart for these things; and truly he has aged very 
 fast — eats but little, and sleeps poorly. 
 
 We heard that Isaiah Hooper was wounded, yet slightly, 
 and not enough to send him home. Joseph Dana sent 
 home a letter a week after the battle, giving us a full ac- 
 count. Deacon Dana hath broken his leg by a fall from 
 the haymoAv, and Hannah has now to manage the farm, 
 and is most of the time afield. Were it not for this she 
 would, I think, go forward to camp to tend the sick and 
 be of what use she might. I hinted as much to her, and 
 she retorted somewhat savagely: 
 
 "The war is not done yet. Quarrels like this last 
 longer than bone-breaks." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 141 
 
 Deborah Samson has gotten the school from my grand- 
 father, and teaches well, besides being the mainstay of 
 Mistress Hooper's forlorn house. 
 
 December 5, 1775. 
 
 Woe is me for the words I have to write. The judg- 
 ments of God have fallen heavily on our house; or per- 
 haps His mercies to my grandfather come in the light of 
 judgments to grandmother and me. The Lord is doubt- 
 less angry with an unforgiving heart; but still I can not 
 forgive the Brown family ! In all our sorrows they re- 
 joiced; they exulted in Warren's death; they gloried in 
 our defeats and in our errors; and when my grandfather 
 prayed for Colonial success they would no more come to 
 meeting, but reviled him to his face, and said he should 
 rue the day. Thus they turned on themselves the atten- 
 tion of the Minute Men, and they were watched. Now, 
 on the 29th of October it was known among us that at 
 James Warren's, in Plymouth, would meet, in a few days' 
 time, several notable patriots, to take counsel, especially 
 about provision of balls and powder for our army. The 
 Browns were perhaps allowed to know this, to try them. 
 In truth they sent a messenger to have a half company of 
 Regulars come and surround James Warren's, to have him 
 and his guests — my grandfather among them — captured 
 as rebels. This messenger was seized on the 30th of Oc- 
 tober, and carried into Plymouth and made confession. 
 Deborah Samson had ridden to town after school to see 
 to some matters for Mistress Hooper. A pelting storm 
 came up, and in this Deborah stopped at our gate as she 
 went home, to leave a letter, and she cried to me: "Those 
 
142 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Browns "vvill get their deserts this night ! " and she tokl the 
 tale, saying : "And now twenty ISIinnte Men are starting 
 from Plymouth town to burn the Browns' house and 
 barns and bid them speed within Royalist lines ; or, if they 
 be caught among ns in forty-eight hours they must see to 
 it — and good enough for them." 
 
 So my grandfather having come to learn the truth, he 
 said: 
 
 " 'Tis an evil deed." 
 
 But Deborah cried out : 
 
 " Minister, the Browns are fierce to get you a halter ! " 
 
 " Love your enemies," quoth grandfather, as Deborah 
 rode on, saying she was " right glad spies would be dealt 
 with, and the worse the night the better for their deserts." 
 
 But my grandfather Avas already preparing to go out, 
 and bid Peter sa'ddle him old Maple. Says my grand- 
 mother : 
 
 "The night is too wild, and you are sick and feverish; 
 do not go out; let the ISIinute Men settle with spies." 
 
 "So much the worse night for a woman and children to 
 be out." 
 
 " But 'tis their deserving," said my grandmother to this. 
 
 " God deals not with us after our deservings," he re- 
 plied. 
 
 " And you are one whom they most hate/' said grand- 
 mother. 
 
 " Then I must the more forgive them," said grand- 
 father. 
 
 " But the Minute Men will have their way," persists she. 
 
 "Look you," said the goodman, "these men are most 
 
OyE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 143 
 
 of tliom from my flock ; and if I go not to hinder them 
 I shall be like Eli, "vvliose sons made themselves vile, and 
 he restrained them not." 
 
 And now the horse was ready; and wrapping great- 
 grandfather's plaid about him, my sick grandfather rode 
 off in that storm of sleet and wind, and reached the Browns' 
 home just as the Minute Men were giving them ten min- 
 utes to leave. And in sooth it was a sore deed, for the 
 voun<>:er children were innocent, and Mistress Brown not a 
 strong woman : and no one about would like to take them 
 in, when, Avet and beggared, they were turned into the 
 stormy night. ISIy grandfather rode up where the light 
 streamed from the open door, and cried out : " Sons and 
 brothers, what are you doing? Are you trying to draw 
 down God's curse on the cause of liberty?" And then 
 he so plead with them, and laid down God's law, and 
 threatened them with God's anger if they thus avenged 
 themselves, that they agreed to leave the house; but they 
 brought out the Bible and made Mr. and Mistress Brown 
 swear on it that hereafter if they desired to help the Royal 
 cause they would not act as spies, but would openly remove 
 themselves and their belongings within the lines of the 
 Governor's party. Mistress Brown and her younger chil- 
 dren were shrieking and praying for mercy ; and they clung 
 to grandfather — the man whom they would have had seized 
 as a rebel — and begged him to stay all night to protect 
 them ; but he, having taken a promise from the Minute 
 Men, told the Browns that they were safe, and so rode 
 home in two hours' time wet to the skin. Grandmother 
 
 had hot cider and a supper readv for him, but he appeared 
 10 
 
144 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 greatly chilled and depressed. The next day being Sab- 
 bath, he preached; but he seemed to feel that he might 
 stand in his place no mcu^e, and so he preached and so 
 plead with his people that all were in tears; and after two 
 hours' speaking — for he was as one who had all his last 
 words to say — he fell in a faint as he came from the pul- 
 pit, and was thus carried home. 
 
 From the first my grandfather felt that he must die, 
 and he sent for Mr. James Warren, that he might make 
 known his wishes. He told him that after his own death 
 my uncle John Temple, in Philadelphia, was to be my 
 guardian, and I should go to him when he ordered it; 
 but so long as I might be left to comfort grandmother in 
 her loneliness I was to stay. As for grandmother, from 
 the moment my grandfather fell ill she had neither word 
 nor siffh nor tear. I do not think she knew when she ate 
 nor when she slept, doing both sj)arely and unconsciously, 
 and keeping her place as nurse by grandfather without 
 laying off her clothes day or night; and it seemed that she 
 begrudged any of us the privilege of so much as bringing 
 him his medicine. And so our weary days wore on ; and 
 I am sure grandmother wanted to die with grandfather, 
 and I know I do — for who will love or care for me after 
 him? This world is no place for orphan girls. And now 
 I shall never be happy again, for grandfather has gone, 
 and yesterday we buried him; and coming back here it 
 seemed as if all the world were dead. I made sure that 
 he would live to be an hundred years old, like great- 
 grandfather, and that I should make his old age so happy ; 
 and now he has frone, and these dreary snow-flakes are 
 
OXE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 145 
 
 falling on his grave, where, last evening, \ve laid him, 
 while all his people wept and mourned like children be- 
 reft of a father. Grandmother has said no word, shed no 
 tear; she has put his empty chair opposite her own, and 
 there she sits, looking at it hour after hour. It seems to 
 trouble her for me to be crying. I wonder does she think 
 I have lost nothing in grandfather? And so I wrap my 
 shawl about me and stay much in my own room, or with 
 Nervey in the kitchen. No one to teach me ; no one to 
 say a kind word and call me " little maid." Oh ! how 
 can all the world go on as before, when such a good and 
 lovely life has died out of it ! 
 
 Jaxtjary 30, 1776. 
 
 The day after that last writing grandmother called me 
 to her and bid me take from the presses and chests, 
 blankets, sheets, socks, woolen cloth, linen, dried fruit, 
 bottles of wine, until all the floor of the common room 
 was covered. Then she laid down all her pewter — the 
 plates, the pitchers, all the shining store that she had 
 cared for. She had sent Peter to bid Hannah Dana 
 come to her in a wagon ; and Hannah came in with a 
 sad face, for she much loved grandfather — and there sat 
 grandmother, white and haggard and trembling, with all 
 these goods laid about the floor. She said to Hannah, 
 quite calmly : 
 
 "These goods all belong to my country. You are to 
 take them to your home, and send them forward with 
 your own gifts as they are needed ; for those who follow 
 me here will not be loyal to the cause of the Colonies." 
 
 AVhen she said that, I ciMild not stop a scream, and I 
 
146 PATRIOT AXD TOR Y: 
 
 rushed out into the kitchen to cry. AVhcn I dropped 
 down on the hearth, and hid my face in a chair to cry, 
 Xervey said to me : 
 
 " Dere chile, you knows it all now. Missey hab got 
 her call sure, and you and me be lef alone. You see, 
 chile, one-half a body can't lib in dis yere ebil worl' 
 when odder half gone to heaven ; no, can't no how." 
 
 ^Vhen I dared return to the common room Pompey 
 and Peter were carrying all those things out and packing 
 them in Hannah Dana's wagon ; but Pompey did hate to 
 carry out the pewter. Then Hannah bid Pompey drive 
 to her house and unload, and grandmother signed to 
 Hannah and me, and went to the garret. She tottered 
 as if she would fall, but Avould not be helped. She 
 opened a big blue chest full of linen, and said to me : 
 
 "Abbey, yon have been a good child ; this is my gift- 
 to you." 
 
 She locked it and gave me the key, while I kept on 
 crying. And then she sealed up the key-hole, and fast- 
 ened into the seal a paper with "Abbey Temple : her 
 property," and signed her name, and Hannah signed 
 her's. She did the same with the oaken chest with my 
 mother's things, and a smaller box holding silver and 
 other property that had come to grandmother's Avith me; 
 then she said that grandfather's books would be packed 
 and go to Deacon Dana's, to be kept for me; and after 
 that she went to the common room, and grandmother not 
 wishing to talk more, Hannah went home. How can I 
 tell of those pitiful days ! Poor grandmother sat by the 
 chimney-place, sometimes reading her Bible, and then for 
 
OyE IIUSDRED YEARS AGO. 147 
 
 hours looking at that empty chair, as she knit and knit 
 socks for our patriots — knit with hands so feeble that she 
 could liardly hold the needles, but scarcely noticed any 
 one as they went and came. 
 
 On Christmas night I left her knitting and "went to 
 try and make some dish which would tempt her to eat. 
 When I returned she had fallen into a i)leasant sleep, 
 with a smile on her face, as if she dreamed of grand- 
 father. So I sat to watch her until she should wake, and 
 Xervey coming in, I beckoned her to keep quiet, whis- 
 pering that now grandmother would be better. Xervey 
 stood by me for a few moments, looking at grandmother, 
 then she stepped over and felt her forehead and the hand 
 from which the knitting had fallen, and she said to me: 
 
 " Chile ! she better now forebber ; nebber hab no 
 more heartache. Missey done gone where de good man 
 went to." 
 
 Oh, me ! oh, me ! I had been sitting there to watch 
 the dead. — And she was indeed a good grandmother; and 
 there are few so faithful hearts to love and break. 
 
 We buried grandmother beside the other two. Our lot 
 in the churchyard is fuller than our home. Hannah 
 Dana came to stay with me until Mr. Warley and Bessie, 
 and Mr. AVarren, who has gone to Cambridge, might be 
 written to. The answers have come. Mr. Warley says 
 that he and Bessie will come at once to take possession. 
 Mr. Warren writes that, as the season is so bad, I had 
 better tarry here with Bessie until traveling is good, and 
 then, with the ])lack ])eople, I will go to my uncle John 
 Temple, in I'liiladelpliia. I look for Bessie and her 
 
148 
 
 PA TEIOT ASD TOE Y: 
 
 father to-morrow, or any day soon. I will see changed 
 times here in this house, where love of God and love of 
 country have ruled. I would it were spring, and I might 
 get away to Philadelphia. And yet, how can I leave this 
 best and only home that ever I have known ! 
 
 BURIAL HILL, PLYMOUTH. 
 
 "Our lot in the churchyard is fuller than our home." 
 
 And now, in turning over these pages, I see that I 
 have, in our home and heart troubles, forgotten to tell of 
 what has passed in the country these many months since 
 the terrible day at Bunker Hill. But now T shall have 
 time to write it all, for I shall not care to be very much 
 Avith my gay cousin, who has not such sorrows as I have 
 to make her grave of mood. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 149 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 Febrtjaky 3, 1776. 
 rpHE roads arc very good now for runners, and all our 
 neighbors are sending supplies to camp. Three large 
 loads start to-morrow, and Nervey and Hannah are busy 
 preparing food to send. Hannah says no help will go to 
 patriots from this house again, and so she shall make the 
 best of her last chance. I am by the fire in the common 
 room writing, and now I shall try and recall some of 
 those things that happened while our home troubles were 
 driving every thing else out of my mind. 
 
 The Congress did much the same as last year except 
 that General AVashington, four major-generals, and an 
 adjutant-general and eight brigadiers were appointed ; 
 also, a battalion of riflemen were raised in Pennsylvania. 
 Pichard Pcnn went to England to seek peace, and Con- 
 gress prayed the king for reconciliation. 
 
 It is said that General Washington has about double 
 the number of men that the British have, but our men 
 arc ill-armed, half clad, and without training or supplies, 
 or fit officers, while the English troops are the flower of 
 the army, perfectly appointed for war. James AVarren 
 writes that the trials of the General are bitter indeed: 
 without money, food, powder, tents, or any authority ex- 
 cept what resides in his own power over men, and his 
 
1 50 ^-^ TRIOT AND TOE Y: 
 
 skill to guide ; and yet our people arc liberal, and feed 
 and clothe the troops, and the men are passing brave. 
 From every cellar and farm-yard supplies go to camp ; and 
 many, like my dear grandmother, cheerfully melt their 
 domestic utensils to make bullets. Money is -wanting, 
 and I often hear our friends say that the paper issued by 
 Congress will be worth nothing. 
 
 Do'ctor Franklin has come back, and has visited the 
 camp. He says there is no hope of peace but by war, 
 and that the Colonies — now thirteen represented in Con- 
 gress, for Georgia has come in — must firmly unite and 
 set up a government, and declare independence. All 
 summer, and until now, there have been skirmishes, and 
 burning of houses and towns, and capture of men ; also, 
 fights on the sea, and taking of small ships. Meanwhile 
 some of the Colonies have armed ships of their own, and 
 talk of a navy. General Gage is gone home to England, 
 and is succeeded by General Plowe ; and every one thinks 
 it a shame that an Irishman should lead an attack on 
 America while Ireland- is a colony like ourselves, and 
 there has always been such friendship between us — so 
 James Warren says. 
 
 An answer came to the petition from Congress to the 
 King. He refuses all conciliation. We must give up 
 all our liberties or fight until we conquer what we claim. 
 These are dreary times, for now those whose friends are 
 in camp know not when to look for them home. Dame 
 Warren showed me a letter from Mistress Abigail Adams, 
 wife of John Adams; indeed from my heart I pity her. 
 She hath a familv of voung children, her farm is left to 
 
ONE II USD RED YEARS AGO. 
 
 151 
 
 her to manage, and their poverty i.s sore ; also, a dread 
 fever hath been among them, and her mother is dead, 
 M'hile her son had almost died, also ; yet still she hopes 
 
 RETREAT FROM QUEBEC. 
 
 that her hnsband will tarry at the front post of dnty so 
 long as the conntry is in need. Ethan Allen has been 
 captnred at the Island of Long Point, and is sent in 
 chains to England; 'tis said he will hang at Tybnrn, and 
 so we lose a rie-ht brave man. Xor do we lose him alone. 
 
152 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 Montreal has been captured, and that is a small gain com- 
 pared to our loss at Quebec, where fell young MacPher- 
 son, and Montgomery, who was as a mirror of every 
 virtue, for whose loss, as for Warren's, the heart of the 
 whole country was broken. Oh! who shall fight our bat- 
 tles now that the good and brave are gone? 
 
 In Virginia, Governor Dunmore has proclaimed mar- 
 tial law, and has freed all convicts, debtors and slaves 
 who will join his standard; also, the Regulars have 
 armed the Indians. I had a letter from Uncle Matthew, 
 from A^irginia, last evening, and he said that Norfolk 
 was cannonaded and fired on New Year's day; and not 
 only were some people killed, but nearly all the town 
 was reduced to ashes. On that same 1st of January, as 
 we learn from Joseph Dana, the new American flag — 
 a tricolor, with thirteen red and white stripes and a blue 
 ground in the corner, was unfurled over our army at 
 Boston. AVe hear that the King is hiring foreign troops, 
 Hessians and Hanoverians, to fight against us. And so 
 this is our state in these Colonies; and I suppose this 
 year of 1776 is the most miserable and unpromising that 
 ever has been since our Puritan fathers came hither to 
 found a country. 
 
 February 10. 
 
 Bessie AYarley and her father came soon after my last 
 writing. Bessie seemed a deal moved when she reached 
 here. She kissed me and lamented over me, and said 
 that the house looked like a grave or a prison, and that 
 she wished that people never died. She moped a deal 
 that day; but the day following Hannah Dana went home. 
 
O^E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 153 
 
 and Bessie unpacked her boxes. She wore a black gown, 
 and as she put her gayer clothing in the press she said 
 black did avcU enough where there were none to see ; and 
 presently she wished there were no farms, and that a law 
 were passed making it a capital punishment to live away 
 from town. 
 
 "In truth, Bessie," I said, "I am surprised that you, 
 who delight in society, have come to this farm to dwell." 
 
 Bessie sat on the bed-side, and throwing up her hands 
 she cried: 
 
 " Is the child a natural ! Surely you know it is not 
 choice, but need, sends us." 
 ■ I did not see the need, and I remarked as much to her. 
 
 "AVhy, child, did I, not tell you that the father is in 
 debt; and in Boston he is set on for payment night and 
 day. Also, he can hardly get credit for fuel or meat. 
 Therefore, to escape from his creditors to a house with a 
 full cellar, albeit it is in the back woods, is much to his 
 mind, and we shall stay until our creditors, who are 
 patriots, are harried out of Boston. Again, Abbey, this 
 farm and its belongings are like to be my sole dowry, for 
 if father got ten thousand pounds sterling to-morrow he 
 is capable of spending the same in a year. But as your 
 grandfather and grandmother were patriots the place is 
 like to be confiscated as soon as this rebellion is put 
 down, and I come to secure my own by taking posses- 
 sion before the royal cause triumphs. 'Tis not from 
 toleration of the country, for in sooth I might as well be 
 dead and buried as be here, where not an officer nor a 
 pleasing young man is to be seen." 
 
154 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 
 
 And so much as Bessie railed at the country, so did 
 lier father revile country fare, and the fact that there was 
 no wine and no better drink than cider in the cellar. 
 The two kept up such a din of complainings qX low ceil- 
 ings, and small Avindows, and blue paint, and the coarse- 
 ness of the furnishings, that full often I ran to the 
 kitchen, where it was far pleasanter to hear the black 
 people bemoaning their " master and missey," and telling 
 of all their life-long goodness. 
 
 After the third day Bessie and her father got out a 
 pack of cards and sat playing with each other, the stakes 
 being pence, or pins, or toothpicks. They entreated me 
 to learn ; but I told them roundly cards were the devil's 
 playthings, and I would not touch a hand to them, 
 whereat they were angry; but I have often heard my 
 grandmother say it. The fourth day Bessie would exam- 
 ine her new possessions. She was quite anxious at the 
 sight of the three chests sealed up, and called her father to 
 look at them; but he, knowing grandmother's signature, 
 and Hannah's name as witness, bade her let them be, as 
 they were none of her's. Bessie searched grandmother's 
 wardrobe, and declared it old-fashioned trash. ' She 
 deeply hurt my feelings by the way she flung things 
 about. Then she ended by saying grandmother's goods 
 were no use to her, except the lace and jewelry, which she 
 carried oif, telling me I could have the rest. So I cried 
 over the things, and packed them in my box. While I 
 was so doing Bessie called me loudly, and I ran to her. 
 
 "Where is the pewter?" said she. "Is that in your 
 box, too?" 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 155 
 
 "Xo," quoth I^ roundly^ "^Tis sent to camp to run 
 into bullets." 
 
 "What! not all the pewter gone to be melted by rascal 
 rebels ! " 
 
 Yes; my grandmother sent it, before she grew too ill 
 to do so." 
 
 "Sent it away! "What robbery! what shameless rob- 
 bery of me! She had no right! — and sent it to rebels! — 
 for shame on her!" 
 
 I had never seen Bessie angry. She is merry, careless, 
 and witty. But now her eyes flashed, and she Avas in a 
 fierce rage. Her father sat by, saying nothing, but up I 
 spoke with spirit : 
 
 " Shame to you, Bessie Warley ! Was it not her own ? 
 and had she not a right to give it to a holy cause? — and 
 God's blessing will go with it. Nor is it just nor decent 
 for you to revile the dead ! " 
 
 And with that, bursting out crying, I rushed oif np 
 stairs, and putting a shawl of grandmother's about me, I 
 sat in the window looking over the snowy fields, and cry- 
 ing, and bemoaning grandmother, and pitying myself, 
 until up came Nervey, who had heard all. 
 
 " Nebber min', honey," says she, "don't cry for dat 
 cbil chile. Dis nigger nebber git her no dinner, see ef I 
 do. I do n't 'long to her, an' I nebber do one ban's turn 
 more for no such ebil-minded trash." 
 
 But before I could reprove Xervey, as my grandmother 
 would have done, we heard ^Ir. Warley's voice raised 
 high : 
 
 " Have done fretting about that pewter ! You can't 
 
156 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 gather spilled milk. And when these rebels are got 
 under, you can have your pick of what silver belongs to 
 John Hancock or the Quinceys. But I tell you, daughter 
 Bessie, it is always well to have two strings to your bow; 
 one never can tell what may turn up. If this rebel side 
 does get the best of the quarrel, what will you do unless 
 vou have friends amons; the rebels to sav a word for vou 
 or take you into their houses? Now, your only chance 
 of that is in these Temples. I beg you treat your cousin 
 Abbey with more respect. Go, and apologize. A few 
 words are a small matter to waste, and you may see the 
 time when those few words will ^e all your chance of a 
 home." 
 
 Just here Xervey heard a squalling among her chickens, 
 and ran down to them ; and before long I heard Bessie 
 coming. I looked out of the window; she stood in my 
 door, saying, in a cold tone : 
 
 " Cousin Abbey, perhaps I was over hasty." 
 It was as the voice of Mr. Warley, counseling her to 
 apologize for selfishness' sake, and I turned to say, 
 angrily, that she need not give herself the trouble, 
 when suddenly Bessie relented on her own account, and, 
 springing to me, she clasped me in her arms, kissed me, 
 calling herself all manner of names for having hurt my 
 feelings, and bidding me never heed, for hereafter she 
 would be the best cousin that ever could be heard of. 
 Now this was not Mr. AYarley's policy, but my own fickle, 
 easy, kindly cousin Bessie; so I made friends with her, 
 and went and persuaded Nervey to get dinner. Bessie 
 was very good until to-day. She talked nicely about 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 157 
 
 grandmother, knit, reeled while I spun, and did not say a 
 word amiss about the Colonies. 
 
 To-day she looked into grandfather's empty study, and 
 said she was glad the books had been carried off, for 
 doubtless they were full of hobgoblins, and awful threats 
 to the wicked, and doleful tales of Cotton Mather. I told 
 her they were good books indeed, and grandfather could 
 have given me nothing I liked better. I was spinning, 
 and Bessie ran to her room and came down with a book, 
 in marble paper covers. She bid me knit, or do some- 
 thing quiet, and she would read to me, for she was like 
 to die of ennui in this waste of snow. The book she had 
 in hand was called " Amelia," written by one Mr. Field- 
 ing; and she had not read above three pages in it when I 
 begged her to stop, saying it was not snch a book as my 
 grand-parents would have allowed me to read. 
 
 "True," said Bessie, "'tis a novel; but why so fastidi- 
 ous all at once? Did I not read you two novels when I 
 visited here ?" 
 
 " Yes," I said ; " that is so ; and I know it w^as wrong in 
 me to hear them. But though I did thus deceive my 
 grand-parents while they were alive, I am sorry for it, 
 and I shall not disobey their rules now that they are dead. 
 What would a young maid, left alone in the world as I 
 am, come to if she despised the teachings of those who 
 had been her only friends and guides ? " 
 
 "Dear! dear!" cries Bessie, "what an old-fashioned 
 creature you are ! Surely I do not know what you 
 wanted with a grandmother, being quite capable of being- 
 grandmother to yourself." 
 
158 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 At that I burst out crying, antl Bessie wished herself in 
 Boston, and ISIr. AVarley said we two were the plague of 
 his life ; so I came here to the kitchen fire to write this 
 diary, and INIr. Warley and Bessie sit in the other room 
 playing cards. Ah ! what a changed house is this ! I 
 used to think when we were all here, before great-grand- 
 father died, that surely those angels whom Elisha's young 
 men saw at Dothan must be encamped in shining ranks 
 about this long, red farm-house, with its high roof, its 
 sheltering trees, its peaceful fields — for here were always 
 love to God and love to man, and gootl works, and days 
 begun and closed with prayers. But now — now it is al- 
 ways quarreling and card-playing, and Bessie sings 
 French love-songs, and her father says very swearing 
 words, like " bless my soul," and " confound me " — M'hich 
 I ought never to have written, only they got down be- 
 fore I thought ; and as for me, I quarrel with Bessie, and 
 often hate Mr. Warley, and think myself very much 
 better than them both ! How^ I wish it were spring, so 
 that I might go to my Uncle John. But Mr. AVarren is 
 away, being Speaker of Assembly, and here I must stay 
 for a time. 
 
 April 28, 1776. 
 
 Only the day after that last writing we got in this 
 house such a change for peace as I would not have be- 
 lieved possible. A new minister had been got for this 
 congregation, and being a young man and a bachelor, the 
 deacons asked that he might have his home here with us, 
 and Bessie bid her father agree. He is indeed a godly 
 voung man ; also a learned and a handsome ; and such a 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 159 
 
 change as he wrought here is most marvelous. The min- 
 ister is a great patriot ; he is named Bowdoin ; he is from 
 the old Bowdoin family. Of course Mr. Warley, who is 
 ready to take precautions in case of the success of either 
 side in this war — who says he must have two strings to 
 his bow — will not resent and contradict any thing that 
 Mr. Bowdoin may say or do. I am not surprised at his 
 polite silence. But Bessie puzzles me. She does not 
 come out fairly patriot, but she talks about loyalty, and 
 conscience, and duty, and both sides being her brothers. 
 But she has stopped the French songs, hidden the cards, 
 sews, and knits, and talks of housekeeping ; and she has 
 also changed to me. She is very kind, but she always 
 calls me "child," and says I grow too fast. She affects 
 to be very much older than I am ; and whereas once she 
 would have me set up for a young lady, now she says my 
 gowns are too long, and will not have my hair done like 
 her's; whereof I am glad, for she tortured me fearfully 
 with pins and powder. Bessie also began at once to go 
 regularly to church, and I think the sermons did her a 
 world of good, for soon she would have morning and eve- 
 ning worship, and read her Bible of Sundays; so I would 
 not wonder if Bessie became a very good woman now 
 that she is away from the temptations of Boston. 
 
 I liked Mr. Bowdoin very much also. He talked to 
 me of my grand-parents, and I know he is a godly and 
 patriotic man. I think Mr. Bowdoin is much in love with 
 Bessie ; but though she is so very lovely to him, and in 
 all ways tries to please him, I make sure it is only the 
 
 pleasantness of her disposition and not a love for him ; 
 11 
 
160 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 for Bessie has often told me she has set her heart on 
 gayer life than here in a country parish. 
 
 Thomas Otis came to see us. He has at last left 
 school and got leave to join the army. He talks much 
 of what he will do ; he will be as valiant as Samson or 
 David. He spent the day, and we went to all the places 
 where we have been together — to the orchard, the barn, 
 the mill, the swing, the shore. He went away at .dusk. 
 I went wath him to the gate, and gave him a bunch of 
 violets, and he kissed my hand, and said we would never, 
 never forget each other. When he was gone I went up 
 stairs and cried, for fear Thomas might be killed, or lest 
 he might forget me, as would not be wonderful. The 
 second day after came Richard Reid. He has been long 
 in the camp, and told us all about the taking of Boston. 
 The British officers had no idea of losing the city ; they 
 relied on the superiority of their troops and on Washing- 
 ton's lack of powder. Many people had been allowed to 
 leave that city on account of the scarcity of provisions, 
 but very many who wanted to go were obliged to remain 
 because General Howe would not permit any valuables, 
 nor more than five pounds in money, to leave the city. 
 I had asked Bessie how they managed, and she told me 
 easy enough ; their money was all gone, their plate had 
 been seized by their creditors, and she quilted her jewelry 
 into her petticoats. The Royal troops had showed no re- 
 spect to the good city. The South Meeting-house had 
 been turned into a riding-school. Brattle Street and 
 Hollis Street churches were used as barracks; the best 
 houses were burned; Crean Brush had been allowed to 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 161 
 
 THE OLD MILL. 
 
 " We went to all the places where we have been together.' 
 
162 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 FANKLIL HALL — BOSTON. 
 
 jiillage all houses and stores not belonging to Royalists; 
 Liberty Tree was cut into firewood, and Faneuil Hall was 
 converted into a neat theater. Some of the officers got 
 
 up a burletta to ridicule the 
 Americans. It was called 
 " Boston Bombarded/' and 
 was jesting at the idea of 
 the patriots getting the city. 
 While they were playing it, 
 and the people were ap- 
 plauding, in ran a sergeant, 
 crying : 
 
 " The Yankees are attack- 
 ing our works ! " 
 
 The spectators thought 
 this a part of the play, and clapped and shouted at the 
 man's fine acting, but stopped short when General Howe 
 started up, roaring: 
 
 " Officers ! to your alarm-posts ! " 
 
 That broke up the play, and they never had a chance 
 to finish it. General Howe found that he coidd not hold 
 the city, and he and General AVashington being equally 
 desirous to avoid bloodshed, the Royalists went out, one 
 Sunday morning, and the Americans then came in. 
 There was great joy in all Massachusetts, and soon great 
 sorrow, when people found their homes and public build- 
 ings ruined, and the North Chapel, the AVest Church 
 steeple, and the Prince's Library used for fuel. But this 
 is war ! I said to Richard Reld : 
 
 " But how did you know all these doings in the city?" 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AQO. 163 
 
 " I was there," he replied. 
 
 " You? AVhy, you endangered your life?" cried Bessie. 
 
 " As well mine as another man's," he said, cooly. " I 
 am old enough to die; and General Washington needed 
 some one there." 
 
 He then turned the conversation, for Richard Reid 
 neither talks about what he has done, nor what he will 
 do. He told us much about General Washington, and 
 we asreed that he must be the man of all others worth 
 the seeing. Mr. R.eid quoted from the address of the 
 Legislature to the General: 
 
 " Go on, still go on, approved by heaven, revered by 
 all good men, and dreaded by tyrants. May future gen- 
 erations, in the enjoyment of that freedom which your 
 sword shall have established, raise the most lasting monu- 
 ments to the name of Washington." 
 
 Mr. Reid says that under the General's direction Boston, 
 within a week, returned to peace, and order, and industry ; 
 wrecks were cleared away, trade was resumed, provisions 
 came in, the churches were opened, the Thursday evening 
 lecture was recommenced, and the General attended. 
 
 Bessie seemed much interested in all that Mr. Reid 
 said — as Desdemona, she asked this Othello to tell his 
 story again and again ; so gracious indeed was she that 
 Mr. Bowdoin looked hurt. After Mr. Reid was gone 
 Bessie was very unkind. She said : 
 
 "Our Abbey is a sorry coquette for her age. There is 
 Mr. Reid, her admirer — " 
 
 I cried out : " Oh, Bessie ! how can you say what is so 
 very untrue?" 
 
164 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 "And Thomas Otis, her sweetheart this three years" — 
 so I ran crying out of the room; and after that Mr. Bow- 
 doin was more pleased with Bessie. 
 
 May 10, 1776. 
 
 By this time I Avas to have started for Philadelphia; 
 but yesterday I had a letter from my Uncle John Tem- 
 ple saying that one of his servants had been taken with 
 small-pox, and that I was not to come to him until all 
 danger of that disease had passed, so I am to wait longer. 
 But things go on better here since Mr. Bowdoin came. 
 He helps me with my studies; and I suppose it is being 
 in the lonely country that makes Bessie so industrious, 
 for as soon as I began with my books she began also, 
 and Mr. Bowdoin takes great pleasure in helping her. 
 
 I can scarcely realize that it is three years since I sat 
 here under the apple tree, where I am sitting now, and 
 great-grandfather was with me, and the uncles were com- 
 ing to keep the birthday, and grandfather and grand- 
 mother were alive and well. But now they are all gone, 
 and I am sixteen, and alone in the w'orld. 
 
 All the Colonies are declaring themselves independent, 
 or intend to do so at once; and doubtless the Congress in 
 Philadelphia will announce an American nation — at least 
 Mr. Bowdoin says they will. 
 
 The Colonists have had some great success. In Caro- 
 lina, in February, they routed the Kegulars, and got fif- 
 teen thousand pounds sterling, in gold, just from Eng- 
 land, and two chests of medicine, besides wagons, and 
 horses, and arms. New companies are being enlisted, 
 although the men are sure of hard fighting, poor fare. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 165 
 
 almost no clothes, and scarcely any pay. General Wash- 
 ington says it is this heroic self-sacrifice which assures 
 the triumph of the cause of freedom. 
 
 Last evening I went to see Hannah Dana. The Deacon 
 was feeble all winter, but his leg is mended at last, and the 
 rest has done him good, for now he is heartier than ever. 
 After I had spent some while with Hannah I prepared to 
 come home, and she walked with me until we came to 
 the Deacon's last field, lying next Isaiah Hooper's. Says 
 she : 
 
 "There is my best black hen! I know she is stealing 
 a nest." 
 
 " Then it is on the top of your fodder-stack," I replied, 
 "for I saw her there as I came by; so, Hannah, do you 
 stop here and I will climb the stack and bring you the 
 eggs. How does the silly bird expect to bring chickens 
 down from such a place ? " 
 
 As there was no ladder nigh, we laid two fence-rails 
 against the stack, and I, being nimble at climbing, 
 essayed to go up, when we heard Deborah Samson cry- 
 ing to us, and saw her beckoning us. 
 
 " Let her come," said Hannah, and as I climbed' the 
 stack she signed to Deborah, who ran over the fields at a 
 great pace. I found no eggs; but as I searched the top 
 of the stack I found a bundle done up in a square of 
 unbleached linen, and forthwith I threw it down, and, 
 coming after it, undid the knots, and lo ! a man's new 
 suit of coarse fustian, some shirts, socks, and kerchiefs; 
 also a powder-horn and belt — and all the articles were 
 new. Hannah cried, "What's this?" And just as I 
 
166 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 said, "I saw exactly a bit of this fustian lying on the 
 floor of Deborah Samson's room last week/' Deborah 
 herself had climbed the last fence and stood by us. I 
 cried, '^ Just look ! " But Hannah suddenly picked up 
 the coat and held it up by Deborah, then said, " Oh ! 
 thaVs it, is it?" and I, turning, saw the two looking into 
 each other's eyes — Deborah with her lips firm set, but 
 unabashed, and Hannah nothing reproving. I blushed 
 in Deborah's behalf, and screamed : 
 
 "Oh! you can not mean it! Never do it!" 
 
 " When is it to be ? " asked Hannah. 
 
 " To-morrow night," said Deborah. "And now, as you 
 have found me out, you shall cut my hair like Joseph's. 
 And promise me, both of you, that no matter what stories 
 rise about me — no matter how evil or how false — you 
 will neither of you open your mouths to tell where went 
 Deborah Samson. You stole my secret, in a way, now 
 keep it ! " 
 
 We promised ; but I essayed to beg her to alter her 
 mind. 
 
 " Talk to yon setting sun ! " said Deborah. 
 
 "And what name will you have ? — trust me with that," 
 said Hannah, " so that two at least may weep when a 
 patriot falls." 
 
 " Robert Shirtliffe" she replied. " Hannah, you could 
 do this as well as I. Let us go together, and one can 
 protect the secret of the other." 
 
 " No," said Hannah ; " that can not be my way. I 
 respect my father and my mother." 
 
 "And I have none to respect ! " cried Deborah, sharply, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 167 
 
 "so this can be ray way. And having nothing else to 
 give the country, which is the sole object of my love, I 
 give her a strong arm and an unerring shot ! " 
 
 And now — this 
 evening — H a n n a h 
 is to cut Deborah's ^-=~ '«^^ 
 
 hair, and Deborah, 
 in her soldier's dress, 
 with a musket on her 
 shoulder, is to set out 
 for camp, and will 
 enlist for the war. 
 I admire Deborah's 
 zeal, but I think her 
 way of showing it is 
 wrong. But Han- 
 nah and I will for- 
 ever keep her secret, 
 and I shall always pray God to protect poor Deborah. 
 
 June 1, 1776. 
 
 My uncle has written for me to come to him at Phila- 
 delphia. My boxes are' to be sent by a sailing vessel 
 from Plymouth, but as so many coasting vessels are cap- 
 tured now, it seems safer on laud than by sea. And I 
 am to go with the colored people, and some one who will 
 be found to go with me, on horseback. 
 
 Hannah Dana has left home. She took a wagon-load 
 of stores and set off for camp, and she will stay with 
 Joseph so long as she can find work to do in mending, 
 cooking, or in nursing the sick. Joseph is with General 
 
 DEBORAH SAMSON AS " ROBERT SHIRTLIFFE." 
 
168 
 
 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 Putnam. General Washington has gone to Philadelphia. 
 Our army in Canada is said to be ruined; but we have 
 had a victory at sea, and captured a ship with fifteen 
 
 hundred barrels of 
 powder. I should 
 think that would 
 be enough to end 
 the war. It seems 
 as if every body in 
 the world could be 
 shot with fifteen 
 hundred pounds of 
 powder — but Mr. 
 Bowdoin says not. 
 I feel very, very 
 sorry about Mr. 
 Bowdoin. I wish 
 he had never come 
 here. I am afraid 
 Bessie is acting a 
 very wicked part. 
 Nervey called my 
 attention to it first ; 
 and though I bade 
 her be quiet, I no- 
 
 BESSIE AND MR. BOWDOIN. 
 
 ticed things afterward which I did not before. Mr. Bow- 
 doin loves Bessie with all his heart — not the real Bessie, 
 but the Bessie that is outside ; the pretty-looking Bessie, 
 and a heart Bessie, which he has fancied her to be, and 
 which she has pretended to be. I dare not set down all 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 169 
 
 her deceits ; one is enough. She pretended to him either 
 that she gave away our pewter to be melted, or that she 
 cheerfully assented before it was done. Not before me 
 did Bessie say this, but Mr. Bowdoin, in his admiration 
 of his made-up Bessie, said to me : 
 
 " How noble of your cousin to let her household ware 
 go off to be melted into bullets ! Few young women 
 could cheerfully make such a sacrifice." 
 
 I stood dumb. I could not bring myself to contradict, 
 and Bessie not there ; and yet I felt like a liar, standing 
 silent. AVell, one morning last Aveek, I sat reading in 
 the common room, and Mr. Bowdoin and Mr. Warley 
 came in talking, and not caring for my presence. 
 
 " Well, sir," said Mr. Warley, " I neither consent nor 
 refuse. I am not of a mind to have my daughter marry 
 just now, but I shall not decide for her; I can not be re- 
 sponsible for a girl of her age." 
 
 Mr. Bowdoin presently went off to Plymouth, and Mr. 
 Warley, seeing Bessie in the garden, called her, and 
 began : 
 
 " Daughter Bessie, you are going too fast and too far. 
 Have you given up your ideas of a British officer, that 
 you have said you would marry a Yankee parson ? " 
 
 Bessie pirouetted about on her toes, swept a curtesy, 
 and said: 
 
 " Please your honor, I did not say when I would marrj' 
 him ; and perhaps I shall change my mind before the 
 time comes. Besides, the one lesson -which your paternal 
 wisdom has taught me is to have two strings to my bow." 
 
 "Oh! that's it, is it?" said Mr. Warley, looking posi- 
 
170 P'^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 tively relieved. '' I thought you had nearly fixed your 
 mind on Captain Banks?" 
 
 " Captain Banks is not here," said Bessie, " and one 
 must have some interest and excitement in the country, 
 or one would petrify." 
 
 " Bessie Warley ! how can you talk so of the worst 
 form of deceit? If you deliberately try and break the 
 heart of such a good man as that God will judge you!" 
 
 "Your Puritanism has not made you civil," said Mr. 
 "Warley to me, angrily. And Bessie first laughed, and 
 then called me jealous and spiteful. I felt so grieved for 
 the just man who must be cheated by these two, and hurt 
 in his best feelings, that I took opportunity to suggest to 
 him that Bessie was not in heart a patriot, but was re- 
 solved, if possible, to marry a British officer and go to 
 England ; but he said, coldly : 
 
 " Mr. Warley said that you were not friendly to your 
 cousin because she has the farm. Now, as it is her's by 
 right, you should not feel enmity nor jealousy; and I 
 could not believe that you did, until now that you have 
 shown it." 
 
 The cruel, hasty, blind, unreasoning man that he is ! 
 Now let Bessie make a fool of him if she wants to. He 
 will not be warned, nor use any prevention — let him take 
 the consequences ! 
 
 June 14, 1776. 
 
 I have been very unhappy since my last writing. I 
 have no one to say a word to of any of my troubles. 
 Mr. Warley hates me; Mr. Bowdoin thinks I am deceit- 
 ful, evil, jealous of Bessie, and a slanderer of my cousin ; 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 171 
 
 and Bessie, while she petted and spoke nicely to me, was 
 just amusing herself and showing off before Mr. Bow- 
 doin, whom she pleases her vanity by fooling into a 
 belief that she will marry him " as soon as father is 
 reconciled to the thought of losing her, and the troubles 
 of the countiy arc settled ; she can not marry in the 
 midst of civil war ! " Very nice for Bessie, who can 
 dance, and flirt, and play cards in the midst of civil 
 war ! 
 
 . On the 11th Mr. "VVarley got some letters, and he 
 came home from Plymouth and began talking to Bessie 
 in his loud fashion, that can be heard all over the house, 
 Mr. Bowdoin was away for two days. Mr. AVarley cries 
 out : 
 
 " I tell you, daughter Bessie, w^e 'd best go back to 
 Boston. This affair with the parson is going too far. 
 The rebels are not going to have the war their own way, 
 and you can do better than marry a Yankee preacher. 
 If we go to Boston we will be in at the death, and T may 
 get the Hancock mansion, or some other. The king is 
 sending over the best troops in Europe, and this war will 
 be closed up and these rebels punished in a six-months. 
 My letters assure me of it. You have taken possession 
 of this farm, and we can rent it, perhaps. Let us to Bos- 
 ton. The parson can do that much for us : to look after 
 our interests here and get us a tenant if he can. Let us 
 be off, and perhaps we will go to Xew York before 
 long." 
 
 At the word of Xcio York, Bessie was wild to go; so 
 they patched up some story, and yesterday away they 
 
172 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 went, leaving poor Mr. Bowdoin to lament for them, hunt 
 them up a tenant, and live in the full conviction that I 
 am Bessie's most artful enemy. But what odds? I am 
 to be oif to-morrow. I wrote to Mr. James Warren, 
 sending him my uncle's letter bidding me come and say- 
 ing that he would find homes and work for our black 
 people. Mr. Warren was looking for some one to take 
 me to Philadelphia, when so it happened that Deacon 
 Dana must go, and I am to go in his care, and to-mor- 
 row we set off. The journey will be safe enough, for 
 roads and weather are good, all is quiet along the way, 
 and if one keeps clear of companies of soldiers all is 
 well. My goods are off from Plymouth by ship. I hope 
 I shall ever see them again '. 
 
 July 10, 1776. 
 We Avere up early on the morning of the 15th of June — 
 indeed, before daylight. Mr Bowdoin is to stay at the 
 farm for the present, and the old woman who keeps the 
 house for him got us a breakfast. After breakfast I stood 
 in the door looking at the garden, the well, the old apple- 
 tree, as they shone out in the pink dawning, and the tears 
 came into my eyes for the life I was leaving forever, and 
 the cold, lonely life that was to come — so it seemed to me 
 that morning. Mr. Bowdoin came to me and spoke very 
 kindly. He said he knew God would take care of me and 
 bless me He also hoped he had not spoken too harshly 
 to me, but it was part of his duty to reprove faults, and 
 he had felt obliged to speak of the only ones he had ever 
 seen in me — jealousy of my cousin because of the farm. 
 Well of all things! All my real faults — and, as my grand- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 173 
 
 mother said, they are many — this good man could not see; 
 and, being enlightened by Mr. Warley, he saw the one 
 fault I do not possess : jealousy of Bessie. I am sure I 
 love Bessie for what is pretty, and sweet, and amusing in 
 her, and I only dislike her faults. As to the farm, I am 
 very glad it is hers, as she tells me it is her all. 
 
 ISIr. Warren had made all arrangements for m^e. He 
 had sent me a good, strong, easy-moving horse and a nice 
 saddle. The saddle had a large bag, wherein I packed 
 what I needed to carry for the journey. I had also a 
 great cape and a hood strapped where I could easily get 
 them, and a big pocket at my waist. The horse I rode 
 was bought to be kept by my uncle; but the colored peo- 
 ple had two big farm-horses, which will be sold for army 
 use. Pompey being very short in the body and long- 
 legged, and carrying his legs stuck widely out as if he 
 had no knee-joints, looked so queerly that I could scarcely 
 ride for laughing. Such a picture as was Pompey: his 
 feet very big, his legs very thin, his coat lined Avith red 
 and a world too short in waist and sleeves, a quantity 
 of white shirt with flapping ruffles, and his saddle-bags so 
 stuffed, and such a pack tied behind him, that his horse 
 looked like a dromedary with a hoe thrust forth on each 
 side. Moreover, Pompey thought every tree a soldier and 
 every sound a shot ; his teeth chattered, and he was like 
 to fall from his horse from very fear. On the other horse 
 rode that imp Peter, dressed to match his father, save that 
 his breeches were green, and he had huge brass buckles. 
 Peter was in as great fear as Pompey ; but the boy had a 
 more immediate cause for part of his terrors, namely, his 
 
174 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 mother^ who rode on a pillion behind him, and vowed 
 that she wonld " punch 'e on 'e head ef he showed a white 
 fedder." But Nervey herself was a sight to cheer the un- 
 happy. Besides being short and prodigiously fat, she had 
 not been on a horse for years, and she hugged Peter about 
 the waist until he was breathless, and she showed several 
 " white fedders " by screaming whenever her horse made a 
 fast step; however, fortunately the beast was too burdened 
 to be frisky. Nervey was dressed in her best, with a hat 
 of her own braiding; and her gown being short, and never 
 in place, she showed a pair of stout legs to the knee, well 
 clad in blue hose of her own knitting. Peter carried a 
 basket on his arm ; and crouched on a bundle strapped in 
 some fashion behind, Nervey has her favorite cat, which 
 carry she would ; and in a great pocket in her apron was 
 a yearling cock, which she had raised from the egg, and 
 could not part with ; so this bird crowed in a constrained 
 fashion at intervals to revive his spirits and our own. 
 This was our procession, headed by the Deacon on a fine 
 roan — the Deacon being clad in decent homespun, having 
 a broad-brimmed hat and well-stuffed saddle-bags, and 
 going steadily forward in deep meditation — while I came 
 next, followed by Nervey and her penates, and Pompey 
 bringing up the rear in a state of great uneasiness and 
 confusion. 
 
 Our road lay from Plymouth to Taunton, thence to 
 Providence, thence on to Norwich; from Norwich to Had- 
 dam, and after that to New Haven ; from New Haven as 
 direct as possible to White Plains; then, avoiding New 
 York, to Newark, and by way of Trenton to Philadelphia. 
 
ONE HUNDBED YEARS AGO. 175 
 
 This "svas a wonderful route to me, who had never left 
 my home within my recollection. "We were on the way 
 two Sundays, when we tarried over at taverns, and duly 
 attended meeting. Our only rainy day was one of these 
 Sundays. Our horses were in excellent condition, and we 
 met with no misadventure, thanks to the kind care of 
 God over us. AVe were twenty days on our journey, and 
 each morning before setting out, and each evening before 
 retiring, the Deacon had us all together for worship. By 
 degrees the fears of Nervey of falling, and of Pompey 
 and Peter of soldiers, wore off, and they proceeded with 
 much content. 
 
 But I must set down some two or three facts about our 
 journey. 
 
 On all our road we were constantly meeting parties of 
 men going to the different camps, or messengers riding to 
 and from Congress, and wagons loaded with provisions 
 and other things needful for the soldiers. AVe stopped 
 over night always at the public house where we had 
 chanced to come by our day ride, and full often we were 
 the only guests. Then the black folk went to the kitchen, 
 and I stayed with the hostess and her daughters, and the 
 Deacon sat in the tap-room with tlie host and a man or 
 two of the t()wnspe()})le who luid dropped in, and they 
 drank cider betimes, and discussed the affairs of the coun- 
 try, and also theology; and the Deacon was csjjecially 
 Aveighty on the iniquity of our whole nature, and on Ad- 
 am's transgression. There was no lack of good fare, and 
 T would tlie men in camp were served so well. At supper 
 
 we were given cider, tea (of livperion,) boiled and roast 
 12 
 
17(3 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 meat, cakes and pie, for fourteen pence each ; our break- 
 fast woukl be milk, tea, corn porridge, bacon, eggs and 
 bread, for ten pence each. It was our way to take a wallet 
 of food and tarry by the roadside for our dinner, resting 
 for an hour or so. I had not known that the Deacon 
 could talk much, he being a man of few words, save M'hen 
 stirred up by politics or theology ; nevertheless he made 
 himself gracious and companionable to me, and told me 
 much of his young days, and of his father's early life; 
 also of his conversion, when he was twenty, and of his 
 courtship and marriage. By this talk he beguiled many 
 long hours. 
 
 About one mile before we entered Providence, we came 
 upon a cam}) of recruits. The officer in command was 
 known to the Deacon, and they delayed to exchange a few 
 words. A knot of soldiers were pleased to make game 
 of Nervey and her cat, boy,^ and cock. The officer 
 checked them, and Nervey was offended at them, and on 
 her dignity, and Pompey so quaked with fear that the lid 
 of our dinner-basket rattled amain. I turned aside and 
 hid my eyes under my hat, not liking so many to be 
 gazing curiously at me, when suddenly I saw, leaning on 
 a musket, a handsome young soldier, and lo ! it was no 
 other than — Deborah Samson. We recognized each other 
 at the same time, and Deborah turned aside in great 
 trouble, then looked at me again. I beckoned her : 
 
 "Soldier, would you bring me a drink?" She made 
 haste and handed me a cup of water. I took it, saying 
 softly: "Do not betray the cause of your country. I 
 never betray any one who has trusted me." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 177 
 
 She took back the cup with a bow. No one had heard 
 me, but one soldier said : 
 
 " Ha, Bob, 'tis thy good hioks has helped thee." 
 And here Nervey felt called on to interfere : 
 "Xow, Missey Abbey, don' you hab nottin' to say to 
 dey strange people. Your grandmother nebber like dat 
 nohow." 
 
 And just then the Deacon rode on, to my great relief. 
 As I said, we were twenty days on our journey, count- 
 ing the Sabbath, when we rested. It was on the morn- 
 ing of the fourth day of July that we came to Phila- 
 delphia. 
 
 THE RTATK-HOfSE IN 177G. 
 
 My Uncle John lives on Chestnut Street, about a 
 square below the State House. As Ave entered the city 
 we found men, women, and children all hurrying one 
 way. Pompcy cried out that the " Regulars were making 
 a iight," and was for fleeing by tlie way he had just 
 come, but Xervey conjectured that It was a fire, and 
 
178 P-'^ 'J^RJO T AND TORY: 
 
 wanted to hurry on to see it. We rode on, such a queer 
 spectacle that many of the hurrying jieople paused to 
 look and smile ; tired horses, stuffed saddle-bags, deacon 
 in broad-brimmed hat, young maiden, Pompey, Peter, 
 pillion, Nervey, bag, basket, cock, and cat, for surely 
 Nervey had brought all her possessions safely through 
 the journey. Finally the deacon called to knoAv whither 
 people went, and why, and one replied, "To the State 
 House, to hear independence proclaimed." So, it lying 
 in our way, and in our wishes, we pressed on also, and 
 were presently on tlie outskirts of the greatest cro\vd 
 which ever I had seen. The State House seemed to me 
 a very magnificent building, and my head fliirly whirled 
 at the idea that the chiefest men of the nation were now 
 within considering of that most weighty question, whether 
 we Colonies should be free. I would that Mr. Warren 
 and Dame Mercy had been there with me ! All eyes 
 were to\yard one place ; all ears waited for the one sig- 
 nal ; the Congress was sitting with locked doors, and the 
 people without knew that the thirteen Colonies, through 
 their representatives, were arguing our Declaration of In- 
 dependence of Britain. Suddenly the bell in the State- 
 house steeple rang out a joyous peal, and the multitude 
 shouted aloud. Other bells caught up the sound; guns 
 were fired ; men shook hands ; women kissed each other 
 and cried; children were bidden to remember what took 
 place this day, and over all the sea of faces shone the 
 light of a confident joy brighter than shines the sun on 
 the waves of Plymouth Bay. Then one standing near 
 my horse's head leaned forward and asked Deacon Dana 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 179 
 
 did he know what words were cast upon the bell that 
 
 rung in the State-house steeple, and the Deacon said nav. 
 
 He told him : " The words are these, ' Proclaim liberty 
 
 THE HOUSE IN WHICH THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE WAS WRITTEN. 
 
 throughout all the land, unto all the inhabitants thereof.'" 
 And all at once I recalled what ray great-granfather had 
 told me of the day when he, a youth of sixteen, stood in 
 the High Street of Edinburgh and heard William pro- 
 claimed king; and with the memory of that fair ^lay day, 
 and that good old man, who is not here to listen to this 
 new proclaiming of liberty, I bent my head to my horse's 
 neck and cried. 
 
 "Come, then," said the old deacon, "the child is 
 weary." And as we cduld not thread the throng, we 
 passed about another street, and so arrived at my uncle's 
 door. 
 
180 
 
 PATRIOT AXB TOBY 
 
 Now, as we drew near I saw one on the stone portico, 
 looking toward the State-house stee'^Dle. She was some- 
 what tall and stately, so that she might be one's model 
 for a queen, M'ith her head hold up, and her shoulders 
 thrown back, as would have pleased my grandmother, her 
 face was so beautiful that it seemed nothing in color, or 
 feature, or in shape could be more lovely; she turned as 
 Deacon Dana lifted mo from my horse, and hastening to 
 meet me, she took me in her arms with a welcome both 
 like that of a mother and a sister, and so I knew that 
 this was my eldest cousin, Judith, and that here in her I 
 had found that woman who was brave, and strong, and 
 deep of heart, and yet who was fair and gracious like an 
 angel, as I had often hoped that I might see. 
 
 Then with her arm around me, my cousin still lingered, 
 looking toward that bell of freedom, and could not for a 
 time leave the sight of the happy 
 multitude shontino; at a nation's 
 Ijirth. But while she looked, she 
 sent for servants to care for the 
 horses, the lug-o-aQ-e, and the black 
 people ; and she told the Deacon 
 what had been the recent doings of 
 Congress. 
 
 But now as I write, Cousin Ju- 
 dith looks in at my door, and shakes 
 her head, which means that I must sit up no longer to- 
 night, and I must leave all further writing for to-morrow. 
 
 INDEPENDENCE DEI.L. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 181 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 July 14, 1776. 
 '\ TY Cousin Judith is the mistress of her father's house, 
 ■^^ her mother being death My uncle has a son Charles, 
 older than Judith, a daughter, Susannah, who is seven- 
 teen, and a young ward of fifteen, named Hester. A 
 teacher comes to the house to give lessons to Susannah, 
 Hester, and me, in French and on the harpischord; the 
 girls are also greatly desirous of being taught dancing, 
 but my uncle, being of Puritan training, will not hear 
 thereof. My uncle has a large library, indeed of several 
 hundred volumes, and each morning when the household 
 is in order, we go to the parlor with Judith, and while Ave 
 work, one of us reads for half an hour, and then another, 
 and so the third, and Cousin Judith questions us, and 
 makes pleasant and instructive remarks. 
 
 AVe all practice two hours a day on the har])sichord, 
 and study our French for one hour. Sometimes Judith 
 allows us to read ]K)etry, as Milton's Coiims, or Samson 
 Affonistes, or Mr. Poi)c's Dunciad, but she does not think 
 much poetry to be good for young people. ]\Iy uncle 
 gave us to read a new book that he had from London 
 through ]Mr. Seaforth ; 'tis " Winier Evening Confer- 
 ences," by Doctor Goodman. He puts us at this because 
 he thinks Susannah, and Hester, and I are likely to be 
 
182 
 
 PATRIOT AXD TORY 
 
 led off by the gay young friends in this city to idle pur- 
 suits, and gaieties which are unbecoming. My Cousin 
 Judith keeps Pompey and Nervey in her own family, and 
 hath found a phice for Peter not far off. I have not gone 
 much out into the city, but it seems to me as fine as Bos- 
 ton almost, and the trees are large and lovely, and make 
 
 me think of the coun- 
 try, but I miss the 
 sea and the salt, brisk 
 breezes that blow over 
 the waves. 
 
 ^yhen I first en- 
 t e r e d m y uncle's 
 house, and saw • how 
 beautiful and how wise 
 my Cousin Judith is, 
 and how pretty and 
 witty, like Bessie, only 
 truer, the younger girls are, and how fine were the clothes 
 and furnishings, money seeming abundantly plenty, it ap- 
 peared to me that every one under this roof must be mar- 
 velously and perfectly happy. Also, when I saw my Cousin 
 Judith standing in the portico with eyes intent on the 
 State-house, and face of joy at hearing that bell proclaim- 
 ing freedom, how could I tell at what a cost to Judith 
 that bell was ringing, and can I now guess how great in 
 the end that cost may grow to be? Moreover I do not 
 think Judith realized it herself. My uncle is good, and 
 wise, and stately, and liberal; my two young companions 
 are bright and pleasant ; while my Cousin Charles is a 
 
 PHILADELPHIA AND VICINITY. 
 
OSE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 183 
 
 young mail who would quite distract my Cousin Bessie — 
 until she saw another. But my Cousin Judith is tlie 
 center of this home. I am sure she must write books. 
 I have no doubt that these hours when she is shut iu her 
 own rooui she is 
 writing those 
 wonderful books 
 which are pul)- 
 lishcd iu Eng- 
 land. 
 
 ' Mr. Seaforth 
 live s but t w o 
 doors from my 
 uncle, and the 
 friendship be- 
 tween the two 
 families is close 
 indeed, for Mr. 
 Seaforth has but 
 two children. Henry, the son, is engaged to be married 
 to my Cousin Judith, and Annie, the daughter, is to be 
 the wife of my Cousin Charles. And now between these 
 families, so united in heart and life, comes this war — for 
 Mr. Seaforth and liis family are just as strong, consistent, 
 and conscientious Royalists as my uncle's family are Pa- 
 triots. 
 
 ^Ir. Seaforth and his son Henry were in Xew York 
 when the Declaration of Independence was proclaimed. 
 They had been there from the "ZOth of June, and only 
 came Ikjiiic on the 12th of this month. AVe have had 
 
 INDErENDEXCE IIAI.I.. 
 
1 84 P^i TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 some strange scenes here. Since the Declaration every one 
 sees war to be certain, and enlisting soldiers for the war 
 is going on every-where. My Cousin Charles has until 
 now not felt himself needed in the army. He is very 
 important to his father in their business, and on Annie 
 Seaforth's account of course he could not readily enter 
 the army. But from the 4th of July he has been very 
 much preoccupied in mind, and has hardly eaten or slept. 
 His room is above mine, and I heard him pacing up and 
 down for hours in the night. I felt such pity for him 
 that I could not sleep. Judith watched him without a 
 word, but just as his anxiety grew did hers, and one 
 morning as she came into the breakfast-room where he 
 sat with his head on his hands, he cried out to her in a 
 pitiful way : " Help me, Judith ! Advise me." And she 
 answered: "I can not — you are deciding for us both," 
 and then she ran to her room, and did not come down 
 for a long while. On the morning of the l'2th, Charles 
 went out as usual, early, and before long Annie Seaforth 
 came in, and went with Susannah into a little room off 
 the parlor, where some flowers were kept. The door 
 between this room and the parlor was open, and Hester 
 and I were there sewing with Judith, when in rushed 
 Charles, looking very excited, and crying, ^' Judith, I 
 have done it ! I have enlisted f )r the Avar, and am to 
 raise a company. I could not withhold my arm from my 
 country in her need — but, oh, what will Annie say?" 
 
 Annie had heard him, i\iu\ she was already standing in 
 the door between tlie two rooms, Avith her face as white 
 as the dead. She and Charles stood lookino- at each other 
 
OS E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 185 
 
 for a moment and then she said, "Oh, Charles, will 
 you be a rebel, and fight against ray king?" Charles 
 replied, "Annie, I must be a patriot, and fight for my 
 country." 
 
 Annie turned away her face, she was too heart-broken 
 to cry. Charles went close to her and said, " Will you 
 hate me now, Annie?" Susannah put her arm around 
 her. Annie said, " I can not hate you, Charles — but — 
 but" — then she could say no more, and she turned as if 
 to go away. Charles offered to go with her to lier home, 
 but she said she would rather have Susannah. 
 
 It was a dreary day. We all felt as if a great sorrow 
 hung over us; and though Judith kept us to our lessons 
 and work, we had no heart in them, and Charles went 
 away and did not return until 5 o'clock. 
 
 At 6 came iNIr. Seaforth and his two children, and we 
 all gathered in the parlor. Mr. Seaforth said: 
 
 " In truth, friend Temple, this is an ill-judged motion 
 of these Colonies. They shut the door of conciliation 
 with the King, and in the evil ways of rebellion draw on 
 them the whole anger of Britain. I could hardly believe 
 the thing possible when I heard that Mr. Washington 
 had had the Declaration read to all his soldiers — whom 
 I do not call rebels out of spite or contempt, but because 
 it expresses a fact, as I look at it, and I can see it in no 
 other light." 
 
 " My good Harry," said my uncle, " I conceive the 
 cause of the Colonies to be the most righteous in the 
 world. AA'e contend for the inalienable rio-hts and liber- 
 ties of men. Xot we, but the Kinsr, are contumacious. 
 
186 P^i TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 And by the help of wise and valiant men like General 
 Washington^ please God, we shall succeed." 
 
 " We have often argued this matter," said Mr. Seaforth, 
 " and we are no nearer agreeing. AVe have often said, 
 John, that nothing shall break our friendship, nor shall 
 this civil war. I would, for very friendship's sake, go 
 over to your side if I could ; but my conscience is clearly 
 for loyalty, and rebellion is to me a sin as black as mur- 
 der; therefore I can not rebel. Like Luther, I must say: 
 'Here stand I, I can not do otherwise: God help me.'" 
 
 "Why, Harry," said Uncle John, "that word of Luther 
 is my watchword, and by it I am put on a far different 
 platform than you — even on the cause of the Colonies. 
 I tell thee, Harry, yon stout old German scattered seed 
 more widely than he knew; and this that you call rebel- 
 lion and / call the cause of righteousness, is a part of 
 his harvest. That seed that he planted w^as carried to 
 England, and thence being transmitted to America finds 
 in these Colonies a most congenial soil, so that we can 
 type it as the kingdom of heaven. It was 'the least of 
 all seeds, but when it is sown it groweth up and becometh 
 greater than all herbs, and shooteth out great branches, 
 so that the fowls of the air may lodge in the shadow of 
 it.' I tell thee, Harry, our children's children shall see 
 this land a refuge for all the oppressed." 
 
 Mr. Seaforth shook his head. 
 
 "'Tis dreaming, 'tis hopeless, John. How will you 
 succeed? Only ruin is before you. Men, money, dis- 
 cipline — all are wanting. You patriots are brave — brave 
 in an ill cause. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 187 
 
 "As to the men," returned my uncle, "they are plenty — 
 not less than two hundred thousand capable of bearinsj 
 arms. As for money, the resources of all the peojile will 
 be laid on the altar of liberty. There is Robert Morris 
 ■will give his fortune; and they shall have mine to the 
 last shilling. And more than the money, and dearer 
 than the money, they must have — even my son. Believe 
 me, Harry, it is not liking to cross your wishes or those 
 of your family, but it is on the lad's heart as duty to 
 serve his country as a soldier." 
 
 Annie was looking out of the window. I knew she 
 was only doing this that her tears might be unperceived, 
 and I, sitting near her, softly took her hand for sympa- 
 thy's sake. 
 
 " In truth, my poor John," said Mr. Seaforth, " your 
 money may as well go to the Colonies, if your support 
 and mind go with them ; for in the end all that you had 
 would only be confiscated by Britain. You have said that 
 your daughter shall marry my son, and Annie shall be 
 wife to Charles, and I will not withdraw from it; but 
 little did I think that first these two lads must stand in 
 opposite armies! For truth is, John, since the King has 
 called on all loval men to join his standard I dare not 
 hold back my son from the cause of his sovereign — aye, 
 I must go myself, were I not too old." 
 
 Judith grew a little paler and looked quickly at Henry 
 Seaforth ; and Henry looked to the full as unhappy as 
 Charles. There was a silence, and then Mr. Seaforth 
 said : 
 
 "I follow my convictions of duty, and I know that you 
 
188 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 do the same — I respect while I regret your course. But 
 now, friend John, I know thy proud spirit, and I come 
 here to take time by the forelock. Let us enter into a 
 compact. This war shall not disturb the relations of 
 these young people. And there is another thing: promise 
 me that if your cause fails, and your property is con- 
 fiscated, thereafter we shall all be one family, and you 
 will share my purse like a brother — nay, like rni/sclf!" 
 
 At these words Uncle John half shook his head. 
 
 "To the agreement about our children, Harry, I say 
 amen with all my heart; but as to the property and the 
 purse — " 
 
 "Why, man," cried Mr. Seaforth, "you say the Colo- 
 nies will succeed, so the promise for you is a safe one — " 
 
 My uncle's face brightened suddenly. 
 
 "Look you, Harry, if I promise that to you will you 
 enter into like treaty with me? If your side loses will you 
 share my home and purse? 
 
 "Aye, aye," said Mi\ Seaforth, as readily as might be; 
 for he thinks the sun can as readily fall from heaven as 
 the King's party be loser. 
 
 " As for the young people," said my uncle, " let them 
 make treaties for themselves. But here, you and I will 
 have this down in black and white, duty signed and wit- 
 nessed, that if the Colonies win the day, and your prop- 
 erty is confiscated, you will, without demur, use my home 
 and my purse until you are on your feet again." 
 
 "Aye," said Mr. Seaforth, "that will do well if, for 
 your part and agreement, you do fully pledge yourself to 
 the same." 
 
OXE IIUXDRF.D YEARS ACW. 189 
 
 So Hester was sent for my uncle's writing-desk, and 
 straightway those two ohl friends wrote out the said agree- 
 ment, and made a copy for eaeii, and duly it was signed, 
 \vc all setting our names as witnesses; and each of them 
 feels assured that his party will be the victor, and that he 
 has entered into a compact not for the benefit of himself, 
 but of his friend ! 
 
 My Cousin Judith and Henry Seaforth were to have 
 been married next winter, and Charles and Annie in an- 
 other year, for Mr. Seaforth thiitks Annie too young to 
 marry now; but this dreadful war has changed all their 
 plans. Judith says she can not marry a Royalist officer 
 (for Henry is to have a commission) while her own sym- 
 pathies are so entirely with the Colonists that she could 
 rejoice in none of her husband's triumphs, and sorrow^ for 
 none of her husband's defeats. Also, she can not marry 
 Henry now when he and her only brother are arrayed in 
 opposite armies, and either might be made a })arty to the 
 death of the other. She therefore says the marriage must 
 be put oif to the end of the war, whenever that may be (I 
 wish it would come to-morrow) ; and she will meanwhile 
 pray only for a speedy and honorable settlement of diffi- 
 culties, and for Henry's preservation. In this Judith does 
 not decide for herself alone; Annie Seaforth takes the 
 same views — and so this civil war comes to separate these 
 four, who have loved each other for years, have grown up 
 together, and have expected to be all in all to each other 
 all their lives. I asked Cousin Judith if she had ever 
 tried to persuade Henry to take part with the Colonists, 
 and she said no; that loyalty to the King of Britain was 
 
190 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 a matter of conscience with him; he had been trained in 
 it as part of his religion, and she shoukl not respect 
 him if he conkl lightly cast it aside. So here, and in Mr. 
 
 Seaforth's, we are all 
 busy preparing to send 
 soldiers to two oppo- 
 site armies. AVhcn we 
 have been in Mr. Sea- 
 forth's for a half-hour 
 I know that Judith 
 wished to take part in 
 the work they were do- 
 ing, yet would she not 
 lend one finger to fit 
 out an enemy to her 
 country, even though 
 that enemy is her lover. 
 However, she had one 
 present for him, and 
 that was her Bible. 
 She took it to him the 
 night before he went 
 away, and he gave her 
 h is prayer-book — the 
 one his mother gave 
 him when he was confirmed in ]Mr. Duche's church. Henry 
 Seaforth went away first; he went to join the army under 
 Lord Howe, encamped on Staten Island. Charles did not 
 leave until three days later; he Mcnt into the Jerseys. It 
 was truly a sad morning, that of his going; and, like the 
 
 MAP OF THE JEP.SEYf 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 191 
 
 friends of St. Paul, we sorrowed most of all lest we might 
 see his fiicc no more. There was little breakfast eaten, 
 though Xervey had done her best to prepare every thing 
 that Charles liked. After breakfast the family came for 
 worship. Uncle prayed very fervently for the country, and 
 for the success of the Colonies; then he laid his hands on 
 Charles's head, and solemnly consecrated him to the cause 
 of the Colonies. He prayed that he might be a good 
 soldier of Christ, and a good soldier of American liberty; 
 and he prayed that God would make good to those who 
 trusted in Him, the word that a thousand should flee from 
 one of them. After this we all bade Charles good-bye 
 with what grace we might, for he is the best of sons and 
 brothers, the right hand of his father, and the light of the 
 house. Then we all went to the door with him, where he 
 was to mount his horse, and though tears streamed down 
 our cheeks we Aviped them away and said " good-bye " 
 again as cheerily as we could command. Just then Mr. 
 Robert Morris came by, and he saw the affair in a minute. 
 He took Uncle John's hand, and his lip trembled a bit 
 as he said : 
 
 "So, friend, you are sending off your only son for the 
 cause of the country?" 
 
 Uncle John drew himself up with that motion that 
 makes me think of great-grandfather, and replied: 
 
 "Aye; and if he were ten sons, all should go cheerily 
 in so good a cause." 
 
 And so Charles is off. He belongs to the regiment 
 
 that is to go to Elizabethtown, under Colonel Dickinson 
 
 (Farmer Dickinson). My Uncle John says that this 
 io 
 
192 PATRIOT ASD TORY: 
 
 choice of a Colonel is very bad, for tlie Farmer is a 
 scholar and not a soldier, and he is only half-hearted 
 about fighting ; he had rather carry on a war and build 
 up a country with his pen ; but uncle says pens must give 
 way to swords in this age of the world. 
 
 Colonial affairs are in a dangerous condition. I think 
 the stoutest hearts are trembling. New York is in a sad 
 state ; but I fancy, from Uncle Matthew's letters, that 
 affairs go better in Virginia. I wish we Avere all in Vir- 
 ginia. That State has Patrick Henry and AYashington, 
 and fjoes on so verv bravely as if it feared nothing. 
 
 Just here Cousin Judith sat down by me, and looked at 
 that line, and said : 
 
 "And has not Connecticut gallant old Putnam ? and 
 Massachusetts had Warren; and Pennsylvania has Frank- 
 lin ; while Adams, and Otis, and Randolph, and Rutledge 
 grow into names too numerous to mention. The Colo- 
 nies, Abbey, are one — their cause is one — the honor of 
 their sons is one ! " 
 
 As Cousin Judith spoke her face grew brighter, and 
 the smile of pride in her country drove away that look 
 of patient pain which seems lately to have settled there. 
 
 Speaking of Putnam, it is said that he is to come here 
 to Philadelphia to take charge — and — I have seen Frank- 
 lin ! I was standing, last evening, on the portico with 
 my Cousin Judith, when a brisk, broad-hatted old gen- 
 tleman, very neat and nice in his dress, and with very 
 beautiful ruffles, came up the street and paused a moment 
 to speak with Judith. She begged him to enter the 
 house, but he plead that he was busy. 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 193 
 
 "At least, then," said Judith, "permit me to present to 
 vou my young cousin, who will be happy all her life from 
 liaving seen Doctor Franklin." 
 
 I blushed crimson, and the marvelous old man smiled ; 
 and as I bowed low 
 he patted me on the 
 head, saying : 
 
 " It takes but lit- 
 tle to please chil- 
 dren." Then he 
 said: "Doubtless 
 this little Puritan 
 maiden is a patriot, 
 
 and- 
 
 -can 
 
 ?pin 
 
 9" 
 
 DR. BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 
 
 "Truly, both," 
 said Judith. "She 
 was brought up by 
 her grandmother." 
 
 " Grandmothers," 
 said the Doctor, 
 " are ancient inventions, which never can be superseded 
 by any thing better." Then he smiled again at me, 
 saying : " Child, mind thy wheel, and thy book." 
 
 And so he passed briskly up the street. He is seventy 
 this very year; but I would have only guessed him some- 
 what past fifty. I said to Judith : 
 
 " What makes him bear his age so wondrous well?" 
 
 She replied : 
 
 "Having something worth doing, and doing it. Ciood 
 
194 PATRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 activities keep people young ; they arc better than the 
 fountain De Leon went after." 
 
 Cousin Judith believes much in the value of activity, 
 and she keeps us all busy in one way or in another. She 
 is not quite so strict in some of her notions as is Uncle 
 John. She allows us, now and then, to learn a ballad to 
 sing to the harpsichord ; and she does not think it a waste 
 of time for us, once in a while, to read a story. My 
 grandfather allowed me to read the plays of Shakespeare, 
 whereof he had a copy in his library. My grandmother 
 thought it a fearful book for me to so much as touch ; 
 but my Cousin Judith's opinion lies between the two; 
 she allows ns to read aloud from Shakespeare such por- 
 tions as she has selected. 
 
 My boxes arrived safely at Philadelphia, and my books 
 are set up in my uncle's library. 
 
 I think, perhaps, Judith has gotten some of her ideas 
 from ^Mistress Seaforth — a most gentle and elegant lady, 
 who, as she is from England, and is an Episcopalian, is less 
 severe in some of her ideas than my grandmother was. 
 Mrs. Seaforth, when we are sitting at her house, often 
 reads to us from plays or jioems, and tells us tales of 
 London life. 
 
 AVe have at my Uncle John's a long attic, which Cousin 
 Judith had Xervey make neat, and gave to Susannah, 
 Hester and me for our divertisement. We do as we like 
 up there, and it is a very pleasant place. Susannah has 
 up there a family of kittens, and a cage with three tame 
 mice. Hester has two or three old musical instruments 
 of various kinds; and along the walls, and in certain 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 195 
 
 boxes, are old gowns and bonnets, and cardinals, hoops 
 and petticoats, and wigs, and fineries, -which have collect- 
 ed during a lone; number of years. Here we often take 
 our voung guests, who are too lively to be in the parlor 
 where Uncle John is. Hester has not been used to that 
 degree of quiet and strictness that I have, and Susannah 
 also is not like what I would imagine for Uncle John's 
 daughter; they are something like Bessie, but not quite. 
 I write my journal up in this attic, keeping it locked up 
 in grandfather's desk, which has been set here for me 
 since it came with the books. I lock it lest Hester, in 
 her mischief, should add to my diary, or take therefrom ; 
 she is especially anxious about the dates, which I often 
 leave out, as here I have written on from the date of 
 July 14, more than a month past. 
 
 "SVe girls also write poetry, which we read to each other. 
 I try to write like Mr. Milton, thinking that the best 
 style; but I can never match it. But the other two say 
 they care nothing for style, so they can make a jingle ; 
 and they make their poetry much faster and funnier than 
 I do. We also make tales to tell each other; and Hester 
 made one of a Knight named Mr. Brown, who lived in 
 Spain, and had his house and stables and all his goods 
 made of gold. I ul)jected to her that this did not look 
 natural, and, moreover, that Mr. Brown was not a Span- 
 ish name; but she said it made no odds, so long as it 
 sounded Ayell ; and, leaving out the unnaturalness of it, 
 it sounded very well indeed, for Hester's tongue went 
 just like the running of a summer brook. 
 
196 
 
 PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 August 20, 1776. 
 New York is in a sad case. The British have amassed 
 a hirge army there, and it is thonght that Washington's 
 army must leave the city. General Greene is very ill, and 
 
 we hear, through 
 my uncle's friend, 
 John Livingstone, 
 that the citizens are 
 in a panic lest the 
 British shall burn 
 all things up. Gen- 
 eral Putnam is go- 
 ing to Long Island. 
 It is said that the 
 army of Lord Howe 
 is the finest in the 
 world. Captain 
 Henry Sea forth 
 writes to his mother 
 that they are most 
 valiant and well equipped, but that many of the best, and 
 Lord Howe himself, feel that there is little glory or good 
 to be gained in being sent against a part of their own 
 people, as are the Americans, and he would that the war 
 ended at once. He says some men break their parole, and 
 others ill-treat prisoners and plot to murder Washington, 
 recognizing the Americans only as a mob of rebels. For 
 his part, he looks on them as most noble foes, and he longs 
 only that his king shall see fit to make honorable treaty 
 with them. Both armies are now lookin": for a battle. 
 
 GENERAL GREENE. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 
 
 197 
 
 ry^: A 
 
 1^1 ' --k ^■^^^'■^ 
 
 72 ? -J *-;i ,#V.*>Flarl)Usll' 
 
 -"","( 
 
 ,' ,''3 Oravesend 
 
 September 10, 177G. 
 
 There has indeed been a terrible battle on Long Island. 
 The Patriots were defeated, with loss in killed and prison- 
 ers of one thousand. So horrible are the reports that have 
 come o f cruelty, a n d 
 murder of the prisoners 
 that I said I could never 
 forgive the British; but 
 Judith said why charge 
 the crimes of the frantic 
 few on a nation who, as 
 a wdiole, will loathe 
 them; we may hear some 
 as evil deeds from our 
 o w n m e n sometime — 
 which may God forbid. battle of long island. 
 
 General Washington has retreated from Long Island. 
 Well, Ave have lost a thousand men and an island, but we 
 have not lost our cause. 
 
 My uncle met Mr. Eobert Morris yesterday, and he says 
 that affairs look very black. Indeed, I am loath to chron- 
 icle any more disasters, and I shall not put a date in my 
 journal, nor tell of ill luck any more, until I can offset it 
 with good news. I think that it is in the effort to throw 
 off our feeling of public troubles that we girls — being, as 
 Cousin Judith says, of an age when sorrow seems most 
 irksome — were ready to enter into any expedient to make 
 ourselves merry, and many a time do we ask our young 
 companions into our attic to engage in some sport. I 
 know not what other feelino- it was that set us to the idea 
 
198 PATRIOT ASD TORY: 
 
 of playing a theater ; and truly, now that it is over, I quite 
 wonder that I did not do more credit to my up-bringing 
 than to take part in it, but so I did. I think it was Hes- 
 ter that first proposed it, and that on an evening when ^ve 
 had been visiting Mistress Seaforth, and she had told us 
 of her going to the Drury Lane Theater, in London, and of 
 the actors and plays and dressing — for these are things 
 that ]Mistress Seaforth likes sometimes, although there 
 Judith is far from agreeing with her. Well, as I said, 
 that night Hester came stealing in a white gown to the 
 room where Susannah and I were in bed, and she argued 
 for a theater in the attic, and would have Mr. Seaforth's 
 niece and a neighbor's son of fourteen to help us; and 
 thereupon, to show how well she could act herself, she 
 raged about the room doing what she called tragedy, in 
 the moonlight, with her hair flying over her shoulders, and 
 pretending to slay herself and the bed-posts (which she 
 made out to be her enemies) with a curling-iron. So Su- 
 sannah fell in wdth the plan, and I, having held out stoutly 
 for a time, agreed to yield, as is my silly custom — only I 
 would not play a true theater play, but to quiet my con- 
 science, would have them play Mr. Milton's Comnf<, and to 
 that, as they could make no other accommodation, they 
 too agreed; and the next day we laid the plot before our 
 neighbors. In short, we were all enchanted with our new 
 sport, and we spent all the time we could command in 
 the attic acting Comiis; and, finally, to make it look the 
 finer, we laid a stage and spread it with a damask hanging 
 from the best bed, and brought up some of the pot flow- 
 ers to make a forest, and laid a range of towels to make 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 199 
 
 out a riycr; and having lit nine clip-candles and set them 
 in sticks, and eke in bottles, with two in huge silver can- 
 dlesticks from below, we undertook to have a grand rep- 
 resentation by candle-light, and I was as full of the idea as 
 any of them. 
 
 Now Nervey being low in spirit for her farmyard, her 
 loom and old Maple, I begged that she might come up, 
 to cheer her mind; and then did Pompey and the young 
 maid come also ; and we had, besides, three small guests. 
 But as ill luck w^as, Nervey was so delighted with the per- 
 formance that she must needs laugh, loud and long, ha! 
 how! haw! and this sound from the attic fell on the ears 
 of Uncle John, who had come up to his chamber to seek 
 for an old copy of the Pennsylvania Journal and Weekly 
 Advertiser. Uncle John, therefore, climbed on to the attic, 
 and thrust his head in at the door, while we, quite una- 
 ware of a new spectator, were doing our several parts with 
 much gusto. 
 
 "What! what!" cried Uncle John, "can this be? A 
 theater under my roof, and my children decked out in this 
 fashion ! " 
 
 And so we all stopped, quite abashed, and would have 
 fled, but there was only the door where Uncle John stood. 
 But what does Uncle John do but with his severest face 
 seize Hester by one hand, and nie by the other, and bid- 
 ding Susannah go before, he led us, in all our trappings, 
 down to the parlor, where sat Mr. and Mistress Seaforth, 
 Miss Annie and Cousin Judith. 
 
 "AVhat are these times coming to!" he cried. "I find 
 these girls all ])erf(>rming a theater in the attic! And in- 
 
200 -P'^ TRIOT A^D TOR Y: 
 
 deed I fear to ask what ungodly play they may have been 
 poisoning their minds with !" 
 
 Said I : " Uncle, it was Comus, by Mr. Milton ; and Su- 
 sannah is the lady lost — and I am Sabina." 
 
 "Oh, Comus," said my uncle; "Comus!" And Mr. 
 Seaforth/ whose kind eyes had begun to twinkle at first 
 sight of us culprits, did smile broadly, while Mistress Sea- 
 forth, seeing me, who, for my long light locks, had been 
 chosen for — 
 
 " Sabina fair, 
 Listen where thou art sitting, 
 In twisted bands of lilies knitting 
 The loose folds of thine amber-dropping hair" — 
 
 a Sabina attired in a faded silk gown, a hoop, and one 
 of Mistress Seaforth's ancient satin petticoats decked with 
 gold lace, was nearly stifled with laughter. My uncle 
 pushed Susannah and me forward, as chief offenders. 
 
 " To think," he said, " that such well-taught damsels, 
 and children of the Puritans, should enter into such 
 folly ! " 
 
 " I am very sorry," quoth I. " I should have done 
 better if I had minded what my grandmother taught me," 
 and I hung my head. 
 
 "Truly, you could not have known of it, Judith?" said 
 Uncle John. 
 
 "No — not exactly kiiou-n of it," said Judith; "but I 
 guessed something like it. And they are all good girls, 
 father; and in these doleful days I was ready to give them 
 any sunshine that they could contrive to find." 
 
 "^yell, Judith," said uncle, smiling, "you are but a 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 201 
 
 young mother for such tall maidens. It seems to me 
 that playing theater may set them past Comus to plays 
 that are vile and profane ; also, it may give them a taste 
 for theaters. Therefore, Judith," Uncle John added, with 
 that courtly deference he always pays to her who is queen 
 of his household, "you will order them to play theater no 
 more " — for uncle never gives any order to any in the 
 house, but leaves this all to Judith. Therefore Judith 
 said, but very gently, as having a share of sympathy for us : 
 
 "My dear girls will hereafter find some amusement 
 more in accordance wdth our father's views." 
 
 And thus we escaped, while Mr. and Mistress Scaforth, 
 were scarcely restraining themselves from shrieking with 
 laughter. 
 
 Returning to our attic we found that the servants had 
 restored our borrowed goods, and carried off all the can- 
 dles but one, in the light of which our three guests, in 
 some alarm, awaited our coming. We began to take off 
 our various costumes, and Susannah was sullen, and 
 Hester quite angry at my uncle; but I, taking a word 
 from my grandmother's wisdom (as usual remembered too 
 late), said " it was doubtless w^ell to check evil in its be- 
 ginnings." At this sageness they all laughed. And here 
 Nervey came up with a dish of cakes to console us, and, 
 those being eaten, our company went home, for it was 
 very late — quite eight o'clock. 
 
 The next day Judith requested that we would not so 
 much seek to distract our minds from the fears and 
 troubles that are raging about us, but that we would, by 
 study of events, prepare our minds for any thing which 
 
202 P'^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 should happen ; that we would heartily pray for those ex- 
 posed to the pains and privations of the camp and bat- 
 tle; and that we should not only wish but work for the 
 success of our country. She then said that this, our good 
 city of Philadelphia, may be seized by the enemy, and 
 while it may be in' their hands we can not give aid and 
 comfort to our army; therefore it behooved us to do all 
 that we can now; and the Patriot ladies, for this purpose, 
 are meeting thrice a week at the house of Mistress Bache, 
 the daughter of Doctor Franklin, and hereafter we were 
 to go there with Judith by turns, and bring home what 
 work could be done by us. 
 
 I was the first to go with Judith. ]Mistress Sarah 
 Bache is a comely lady, lively and busy, hardly yet of 
 middle age. She is full of zeal for the country, but just 
 now also harassed by fears for her father, who is on his 
 way to France where he w'ill probably arrive by the 
 middle of December. Our hopes of human help lie in 
 France. At Mistress Bache's we were all making army 
 shirts, also lint and bandages for the surgeons, and socks. 
 Material will doubtless give out, for here, though many 
 of the ladies (like Mistress Bache and my Cousin Judith) 
 can spin, tliey can not weave, and it is difficult to get the 
 loom-work done, and thus the thread lies idle after it is 
 spun. AVe were more independent at my grandmother's ; 
 and if Cousin Judith could get a loom set up, Nervey, 
 and Pompey, and I could weave, I am sure. 
 
 Judith did not desire us to be without relaxation, and 
 we yet amused ourselves in the attic, until she said that 
 as sharp weather was coming on we must leave that resort 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEA ES AGO. 203 
 
 until spring-, lest being there we should take cold. And 
 now some mischief possessed us surely, for, of all diver- 
 sions, we concluded to close our occupation of the attic by 
 a ball ! What Avould my grandmother have thought of 
 that! AVe had five or six of our friends invited, and 
 they were all to dress in the various garments which are 
 stored in our attic. Nervey made us some cakes, and we 
 also had cheese and apples — all being set out on a table 
 before the window. Hester must have a chandelier, and 
 therefore she tied candles to a hoop and hung it by a wire 
 from the roof; the roof being low the chandelier was in 
 our way exceedingly. 
 
 Of course, at a ball must be dancing ; but thereof I knew 
 nothing but to recall the minuet Bessie instructed me to 
 Avalk several years ago. Hester understands a Virginia reel, 
 and Susannah can, with a little prompting from Mr. Sea- 
 forth's neice, dance a figure or two. By half-past five it 
 was dark in the attic, and we began our ball. For music 
 we brought uj) Pompey, who can play on the viol, and 
 hath one (ancient and nearly worn out) which was for- 
 merly a source of contention between him and my grand- 
 mother, as she would never permit him to play on it in 
 hearing from the house, and poor Pompey was obliged to 
 solace himself w^ith his instrument in rear of the barn or 
 stable. We had Pompey up for our orchestra, yet bid 
 him play low — as, indeed, he could scarce do otherwise, 
 having but two strings left, and these weak. Thus, to 
 Pompey's music, we Avere dancing in high glee, when an 
 accident befell Hester. She had on a green gauze train ; 
 also on her head a hat that had been Avorn bv her aunt, 
 
204 P'^ TRIGT AXD TOR Y: 
 
 thirty years ago, and on the hat she had set three long 
 plumes, which my uncle had in his youth Avorn on train- 
 ing days. Thus decorated, Hester dancing her reel to the 
 same music whereto I walked my minuet, and the others 
 w^ent through their contra dance, Hester in her zeal leaped 
 under our chandelier, and her plumes, waving on high, 
 caught fire in the candles, and her start brought one can- 
 dle down on her gauze; therefore was poor Hester for a 
 second blazing top and train; but I, being next her, 
 dragged off the gauze and flung it aside, where it burnt 
 up in a minute, while I stamped out the candle, and at the 
 same time Pompey leaped forth and beat the blazing 
 plumes between his viol and his hand, so that no sooner 
 had Hester begun to shriek for fear than the fire was ex- 
 tinguished ; yet would she not believe it, but flung out of 
 the attic, and rushed down stairs screaming " Fire ! fire ! 
 fire ! " with her hat with burnt plumes on her head, tat- 
 ters of gauze at her waist, and an awful smell of scorched 
 feathers accompanying her — thus into the very presence 
 of Uncle John, who was reading his weekly paper. As 
 for the rest of us, we fled amain, to take ofl* our trappings, 
 and so our ball came to an untimely end. Judith was 
 not a little amused at our misadventure, but Uncle John 
 is in great perplexity concerning our ways. 
 
 But thus, amid outer cares, and wars, and dangers, and 
 home work, and study, and frolic, has winter come on. 
 Philadelphia is now in daily danger of being seized by 
 the enemy, and Congress may remove to Baltimore. As 
 we hear from Charles, General Washington is more bur- 
 dened and abused, and more heroic and self-forgetting 
 
OSE IirSDRED YEARS AGO. 205 
 
 tlian was ever any man, unless William the Silent, but the 
 public are in love with General Lee. Charles came home 
 for a few clays, and from Avhat he tells us of General Lee, 
 my uncle (a great discerner of character) says that he is 
 a vain, fickle, selfish man, who would be better out of 
 our army than in it, but none else think so. Mr. Reed 
 and Farmer Dickinson are discouraged, and all, from 
 losses and dissensions, look distressful. After Charles 
 went away we had a visit from Richard Reid, who has ac- 
 companied General Washington in his retreat through the 
 Jerseys. Then General Putnam came here to take charge, 
 and he orders no one to go out after ten o'clock at night. 
 He has promised never to burn the city, but if the British 
 capture it, to let it remain, in hopes of being recaptured. 
 And so cold weather has come. The army melts away 
 daily ; stores are wanting ; arms, and powder, and clothes 
 are needed ; and the paper money is losing value every 
 hour. 
 
 January 1, 1777. 
 
 Now at last may I set a date in my diary, and recount 
 strange events and good news. But to begin a while 
 back. I had, a month ago, a letter from Bessie, from New 
 York. Having gone in the summer to Boston, and being 
 disappointed in his expectation of the instant reduction 
 of the Colonies, ]\Ir. Warley fearing to trust Bessie back 
 at the farm, set to worrying General Howe for a position, 
 and by dint of begging, and Iwrrowing, and promising, 
 he got a place as purveyor, or contractor, or something 
 other of that sort (Bessie is not very clear what), and so 
 he and Bessie are at New York ; and Bessie writes me 
 
206 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 that she has no end of new gowns, and compliments, and 
 followers, and that money is plenty. Not one word of 
 Mr. Bowdoin! She bid me write to her at once, and 
 thongh Bessie is not a cousin by blood, Judith thinks I 
 had better answer her, and keep up the cousinship, lest 
 some day the poor girl, without mother or guide, may 
 come to need a friend. I have told Judith all about 
 Bessie. 
 
 Mr. Warley's position does not cause me to think more 
 highly of him. INIr. Seaforth had a letter by hand from 
 Henry, and he says that by reason of the negligence of 
 General Howe the contractors are, without exception, a 
 set of villains and plunderers, and the army and hospitals 
 suffer greatly thereby. 
 
 On the 11th of December we had a day of fasting and 
 prayer for the cause of the Colonies. Mr. Diiche's church 
 kept it, many of them being Patriots; but while ]Mr. Sea- 
 forth would not go to the church, lest outwardly he might 
 identify himself with what he esteemed a sinful disloyalty, 
 yet at home he kept the day strictly, praying that peace 
 on a sound basis, honorable to the crown and grateful to 
 the Colonies, might be granted. 
 
 On the 15th of December we had a letter that came 
 from Xew Jersey, telling of the capture of General Lee 
 at "White's Tavern, at Baskinridge, where he acted what 
 my uncle says was an insubordinate, rash, and dastardly 
 part, and my uncle thinks the country well rid of him; 
 but, poor man, he is likely to fare hard from the British, 
 being charged with desertion rather than rebellion. And 
 then for a few days all our hearts were on New Jersey, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 207 
 
 lest our commander-in-chief should he captured or routed, 
 for great was his need and danger. If he failed in these 
 days our cause had been lost indeed; but now these few 
 days later I can write of a great deliverance. Yet must 
 I stop to set down a prank of Hester's, which made a 
 part of my history, and this it was: 
 
 Hester, about the 9th of December, arranged with 
 Susannah to dress as beggars and go at nightfall about 
 among our nearest neighbors begging, with a pitiful tale, 
 in order that they might see how far friends could be 
 deceived, and also that thereafter they could cast up to 
 them the answers which they might make to petitions. 
 The girls had hinted the plot to me, and I dissuaded 
 them, so I thought the matter had been dropped. But, 
 unknown to all, off they went, and that on an evil night ; 
 and thinking it part of their play to have ragged feet and 
 uncovered throats, they got sadly wet, and came home out 
 of conceit of their play, but said nothing until the next 
 dav, when they were both ill ; and Nervey confessed to 
 mo what the two had done, and I told Judith. Hester 
 was ill indeed, and kept to her room, her throat being 
 sore an.d her fever sharp ; but our poor Susannah had 
 like to die; indeed, for days Judith did not leave the 
 unhappy child's room, and all our hearts were desolated 
 at the fear of losing our lively, loving girl. 
 
 "While my uncle was thus heart-broken over his youngest 
 daughter the battle at Trenton was fought. Our bravest 
 of men crossed the Delaware in ice, and sleet, and dark- 
 ness, and with but twenty-four hundred men. In such 
 
 cold and storm this forlorn hope of the Colonies marched 
 14 
 
208 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 fifteen miles, and at dawn fell upon the Hessians at Tren- 
 ton. How my heart beat high for joy that it was our 
 own good men of Marblehead who led that advance and 
 manned the boats across the ice-full 
 Delaware ! And what a victory was 
 this! The Americans lost not one 
 man killed, and only a few wound- 
 ed, and their prisoners were nearly 
 a thousand; also they took arms, 
 standards, and field-pieces. And so 
 in one hour — for this battle last only 
 thirty-five minutes — did the Lord 
 send, as if by an angel, our deliver- 
 ance. 
 
 BATTLE OF TRENTON. 
 
 My Cousin Charles was in this battle, and on the second 
 day after, we had word that he was wounded and lying at 
 the house of a Quaker named Stacey Potts, which house 
 has been the head-quarters of Colonel Rahl. The mes- 
 senger said that my cousin's wound was in the leg and 
 might not be serious, but the march and exposure had 
 brought a fever on his chest. INIy uncle, hardly knowing 
 whether Susannah would die or live, prepared to go to 
 his wounded son, yet Avanted one to go with him to aid 
 in the care and nursing, and also to prepare such food as 
 might be proper for an invalid. While these thoughts 
 were passing through his mind — for the messenger came 
 while my uncle and I were taking a solitary breakfast — ' 
 Cousin Judith had been called for and came to hear the 
 news. She urged her father to set forth at once. My 
 uncle turned to me and said. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 209 
 
 "Abbey, you are not afraid to go within sound of 
 guns ? " 
 
 I replied quickly : 
 
 "Xo, uncle. Why should I be? My grandmother bid 
 me fear nothing but doing wrong. But I have acted such 
 a silly of late that I did not know that you would trust 
 me." 
 
 "Girls will be girls/' said my uncle, kindly, "but I 
 have ever found that, with the exception of Hester, they 
 can, when there is a need-be, be women too." 
 
 My uncle meant nothing unkind to Hester, who, with 
 her pranks, is the life of our house. 
 
 We Avere ready to set off within an hour. I rode the 
 same horse on which I came from Plymouth; the mes- 
 senger was provided with a fresh beast, and we all had 
 our saddle-bags stuffed with things needful for our invalid. 
 The day was very cold, but I wore Judith's fur cloak, 
 which came from England, and also a fur-bound hood 
 and a pair of fur-lined Indian moccasins; and so, with 
 double mittens of my grandmother's knitting, I was warm 
 enough, and the ground being frozen we rattled on at a 
 fine rate. AYe stopped once or twice to warm and get 
 something to eat and drink, also in mercy to our horses, 
 l)ut made such good time that we were at Stacey Pott's 
 before nijrht — the ni*rlit of the 28th. 
 
210 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Januaky 10, 1777. 
 11 TY duties as a nurse do not leave me very much time for 
 my diary; and just now I find more matter than usual 
 to set down therein. 
 
 When we reached Trenton we found Cousin Charles 
 somewhat feverish and suffering much from the wound in 
 his leg ; but his state was by no means dangerous, and he 
 said that the pleasure of seeing us almost paid him for 
 being wounded. We did not tell him of Susannah's ill- 
 ness, but excused Judith, as the housekeeper could ill be 
 spared from home. 
 
 We found that General AYashington had drawn off his 
 troops and re-crossed the Delaware on the night of the 
 battle. Colonel Rahl had died on that same evening, and 
 had been buried the next day. In all the exhaustion of 
 his night march and victory, General Washington had yet 
 found time to call upon his dying enemy and offer him 
 what consolation a Christian soldier mieht brine:. Rahl 
 was surely a brave man, but surely not a good man. It 
 was a drunken carouse that made him lose Trenton and 
 his life. So out of his sin and penalty has come our 
 good. Having left Hahl, the General looked in on 
 Charles, and himself gave orders to have his father sent 
 for. Was there ever such a man, who forgets nothing ! 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 211 
 
 I felt most grieved tliat I had missed seeing him, whom 
 Mr. Robert Morris calls "the greatest man in the world;" 
 but I had little time for vexation, as I had my cousin to 
 wait upon, and a letter to write home, to tell them how 
 we fared. Mis- 
 tress Potts was 
 very good to me. 
 I like Quakers 
 very much: their 
 words and their 
 ways are so rest- 
 ful. There were 
 two or three men 
 in and about the 
 house more or 
 less w o u n d e d ; 
 and a daughter 
 of Mr. Potts was 
 grazed by a ball 
 passing close 
 over her head, 
 and from the jar 
 on her brain, and the fright, keeps her bed, though her 
 hurt is not serious. 
 
 On the 30th of December, at evening, General Wash- 
 ington returned to Trenton with part of his troops, and 
 the rest came next dav. I heard a rumor of his coniino, 
 and wrapping a cloak over my head, I ran toward the end 
 of the street where he would pass. I did not tarry to ask 
 my uncle — he might have said no, and I must sec General 
 
 GENERAL WASHINGTON". 
 
212 P'i TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 AYashington. The crowd was great, but I got on a door- 
 step, and I saw him passing by : calm, grand and grave. 
 Surely God never made such a man as that for a less work 
 than create a nation. He is the man who puts his whole 
 soul into what he does. I have heard that he, and Gen- 
 eral Stark, and others, have pledged their whole fortune 
 to the expenses of the army, because tlie public credit and 
 public money are exhausted. I asked my uncle if I had 
 any money that was worth giving to let me give it all to 
 the cause of the Colonies ; but he said that would not be 
 doing his duty as a guardian. 
 
 Soon after General Washington reached Trenton, report 
 Avas that Lord Cornwallis was coming up. The American 
 army, about five thousand strong, lay near Trenton on 
 New Year's Day. My Cousin Charles, on that morning, 
 being more able to talk, told us that being wounded in 
 the leg he fell, and a Hessian rushed forward to kill him 
 with a bayonet, and would so have slain him as he lay, 
 but one of the bravest of a company of Connecticut men 
 sprang forward, and, having no charge in his musket, 
 seized it by the barrel and fairly beat off the Hessian 
 with the stock, and after helped to carry him from the 
 field. Uncle and I expressed strong desire to see the pre- 
 server of Charles. About two hours after, when I came 
 up from the kitchen, where I had been making a lotion, 
 uncle said that Charles had sent a servant to bring in his 
 brave deliverer, if he could be found, as the Connecticut 
 company were then in the town ; and shortly after we 
 heard steps in the entry. I was bending over Charles as 
 the door opened, and he said : 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 213 
 
 "Here i^ my noble Robert Shirtliffe!" 
 
 I whirled about, and there, shaking hands with my un- 
 cle, stood a soldier — Deborah Samson ! She dropped my 
 uncle's hand, and stood, hardly knowing what to do ; and 
 I felt myself looking amazed and foolish, while my uncle 
 said : 
 
 "Abbey, speak to the deliverer of our poor Charles." 
 
 It Avas no time to look silly and tell-tale when a friend's 
 secret was in danger, so I stepped forth and shook the de- 
 / liverer's hand, saying : 
 
 " Uncle, I have met this soldier before. Robert Shirt- 
 liffe went from near my grandfather's." 
 
 My cool manner reassured Deborah, who, recovering, 
 asked how Charles did, and told the army news. My un- 
 cle desired to make some return for kindness done, and so 
 said — blundering for him — that the country did little for 
 soldiers — pay was always in arrears, many comforts were 
 wanted, and so on — drawing toward an offer of a reward ; 
 but the soldier said : 
 
 "No, no!" — and lower, in my ear, "for j^iti/'s sake no!" 
 
 And again I ventured to the rescue, saying : 
 
 " Uncle, our Massachusetts people do good for good's 
 sake. Let us leave Cousin Charles hereafter to do as much 
 for — Robert Shirtliffe, and Robert to repeat the favor for 
 Charles, if need be. It is pleasant enough to this soldier 
 to have saved a relative of my grandfather, who was well 
 beloved by all who knew him." 
 
 So, with another hand shaking, off went Robert; and, 
 looking aftsr that strong, straight figure in faded, mended 
 soldier's dress, I could hardly believe that my fancy had 
 
214 PATRIOT AND TOBY : 
 
 not been playing me tricks, and that this could be the 
 Deborah Samson whom I had taught to spell, sitting long 
 ago under the shadow of Daddy Hooper's stone Ayall. 
 However, we had brought Charles shirts and socks and 
 flannel in plenty, so I made up a portion of his supply 
 into a bundle, tied in two large kerchiefs, and sent them 
 by my cousin's servant after Robert Shirtlife, as a present 
 for a good soldier. 
 
 'Tis a comfort to know that our poor weary, bare- 
 footed, ragged men have just been well reclothed by sup- 
 plies from Philadelphia; and glad am I to think that I 
 helped prepare some of these things. And it does now 
 seem to me that I can hereafter waste no more time, but, 
 as I have seen how our Patriots suffer and need, I must 
 spend all my hours and strength working for them. 
 
 On the night of the 2d of January General "Washing- 
 ton Avithdrew toward Princeton, but very secretly, leaving 
 the camp-fires burning. It was a cold night. As I had 
 been closely by Charles for several days, I persuaded my 
 uncle to walk out with me after dark. We saw the camp- 
 fires of the British on all the low-lying hills, where they 
 w^ere stationed for the night. The sky was cloudy, and 
 only now and then a star shone through the rifts. We 
 saw the figures of the sentries pacing near the distant 
 fires; and now the piles blazed up, and now died away, 
 and shone again as the guard replenished them with 
 more fuel. All along the banks of the Assanpink 
 beamed the watch-fires of the Americans — a wall of light, 
 reflected in the stream below. There, too, now and again, 
 passed the dark figure of a guard ; and we knew not that 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEAES^AGO. 215 
 
 from behind those ramparts of flame our soldiers Avere 
 even then stealing toward Princeton, to strike another 
 blow for liberty. And as I stood there watching the 
 blaze that rose in a Mall along the Assanpink, I thought 
 of the Children of Israel, forty years in the wilderness, 
 led by a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night ; and 
 I asked in my heart that God would lead our Patriots 
 through their cloudy days, being with them in what seem 
 dark dispensations, and be their flaming pillar by night, 
 until out of these their troublous wanderings. He brings 
 them into a land good and all their own. 
 
 It seems that Lord Cornwallis knew not what his foe 
 was doing until, next day, a dull, heavy sound echoing 
 among the hills told that war had w^oke up at Princeton, 
 and to this far-oif bellowing of cannon he marched in 
 haste, to save his magazines at New Brunswick. The 
 Americans had the day at Princeton, but — lost Mercer, 
 another of our best men. 
 
 On the 5th we had a letter from Philadelphia, and that 
 by Pompey. Of all things I can not guess how Judith 
 got him out of the shelter of home in these troubled 
 times. True, the road is safe, but Pompey is such a cow- 
 ard ; indeed, he had grown several shades lighter from 
 very fear. I had him at once to the kitchen, and Mis- 
 tress Potts ordered him a meal. I said to him : 
 
 " "Well, Pompey, however did you, who are so afraid, 
 make up your mind to come here by yourself." 
 Pompey replied : 
 
 "Tell 'e what, Miss Abbey, Pomp mighty 'fraid ob 
 soldiers, but 'e more mighty 'fruider ob Missey Judith, 
 
216 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 when she hab her miii' made up. Den when she say go, 
 Pomp 'bliged to go. But clere, now, Missey Judith ought 
 to knowen better; she know me too ole to raise 
 nodder set ob teef, and yet she sen' me 'long wid dese 
 all knockin' togedder wid fear till like to knock 'em 
 out." 
 
 Still I think all his teeth were there, for he ate most 
 heartily. 
 
 Judith's letter was all good news : Hester quite recov- 
 ered, and Susannah much better. She sent by Pompey 
 what he could carry, and bid us give it to other invalids 
 if Charles did not need it. Part of Judith's letter I 
 copy here : 
 
 " Early New Year's morning, just after daylight, there 
 Avas a violent knocking at our door, and I, trembling lest 
 bad news had come, ran myself to answer; but there 
 stood Mr. Robert Morris. He asked for you, and I told 
 him you were absent, waiting on our wounded Charles. 
 He said : 
 
 "■ ' Well, Miss Temple, I want money, hard money — 
 what can be spared, if 'tis only a crown. I must send 
 monev to that hero and c^reatest of men, Washington, mIio 
 is carrying all this country on his own shoulders.' 
 
 " I said I liked not to break open your escritoire in 
 your absence, but I had fifty Spanish dollars for the 
 housekeeping by me, and he must have that. He would 
 not enter, so I ran for my money, and coming back I 
 saw Mr. ]\Iorris dart from our door-stone to meet a portly 
 Quaker, out thus early in the day. I heard him say : 
 
 " '■ Money — hard money — all that you can spare, friend^ 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 217 
 
 to send to my Washington, who carries a load too great 
 for mortal man.' 
 
 " ' Robert/ said the cautious Quaker, ' what security 
 can thee give me?' 
 
 "'My note, and my honor!' cried Mr. Morris. 
 
 "'Well, thee shall have it,' said the Quaker. 'Thy 
 honor is good; so is thy note — verij.^ 
 
 " Just as Mr. Morris returned to me, and I Mas mourn- 
 ing at the smallness of mv donation, I remembered that 
 I had among my treasures an hundred Spanish dollars, 
 which my blessed mother had given me on my birthday, 
 and which, since she has gone, has seemed too precious to 
 spend ; but I bethought me her gift was not too sacred 
 for the cause to which we had devoted her only son; so 
 I begged j\Ir. Morris to tarry once more, and I ran for 
 my keepsake, which I gave, not without some tears on 
 ^ the way." 
 
 I dare say that, of the fifty thousand dollars which 
 Robert Morris sent General Washington, many were 
 given, as were Judith's — willingly, and with tears. 
 
 All the people are devoted to Washingtan, and call him 
 the American Fabius. It is strange that such a man can 
 have enemies and opposers, but so it is. INIy uncle said 
 to me, the other day, when I lamented this : 
 
 "He will have only eulogizers among posterity. All 
 nations will unite to honor such men as Washington and 
 Franklin. Their names and their virtues will be an in- 
 heritance for the world." 
 
 The General has now gone into winter-quarters at 
 ^lorristown. The conduct of the British army in the 
 
218 P-i TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 Jerseys has not helped their cause. The piUage, burning 
 of houses and shiughter of cattle, depredations committed 
 even on Loyalists, have embittered the people. The for- 
 eign mercenaries are used to great cruelties and extor- 
 tions in warfare, do not speak the language of the people 
 among whom they have come, and have no ties of sym- 
 pathy and kindness with us. It has been found impossi- 
 ble to restrain them, and they have robbed friend and foe 
 alike. The Howe brothers are said to be friendly to the 
 Colonists as a people, and also are of a bounteous dispo- 
 sition, but, being naturally indolent, they do not restrain 
 their soldiery ; and thus this fair domain, that, my uncle 
 says, was of late rich, peaceful and beautiful, is a scene of 
 piteous desolation. I think nothing has more angered 
 the Patriots than the employment of Indians against 
 them ; and the several addresses Avhich General Burgoyne 
 has made to these savages have tended to influence all 
 minds against his cause. And I dare say that this course 
 has not met the approval of the better people in England. 
 
 February 1, 1777. 
 
 AVe are now home again in Philadelphia. Charles re- 
 covered rapidly, and was able to be brought here, to 
 remain until he is fit for active service, which we hope 
 will be soon, AVhen we reached my uncle's house, even 
 while the family were embracing Charles, I ran over to 
 Mr. Seaforth's, thinking Annie would be glad to hear at 
 once how Charles had borne the journey; but even while 
 I was speaking to them, in came my uncle. He kissed 
 Annie, and said : 
 
 " Come, my girl, your presence will be the best medi- 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 219 
 
 cine Charles can have. These clays are too evil for cere- 
 monies, and you young people must take what comfort you 
 can, for surely you have fallen upon evil times. I have 
 come to fetch you to stay with us while Charles is home, 
 it may only be for a fortnight." 
 
 Annie looked wistful but did not answer, glancing at 
 her mother and father. 
 
 " Go, my child," said Mr. Seaforth ; " I know you have 
 carried a sad burden this last month." 
 
 "Yes, go," said Mistress Seaforth embracing her; yet 
 added, "and what will I do? Without a companion here 
 I shall break my heart thinking of Henry's dangers and 
 poor Annie's trials." 
 
 " I must even lend you a daughter," added my uncle. 
 " If I take Annie I must leave you a pledge in her place. 
 Susannah is but an invalid yet, and Hester a true kill- 
 peace. You can but take Abbey. I can recommend her 
 as witty and wise." 
 
 And this is how I came over to bide with Mistress Sea- 
 forth, and have been here a week. At the first it seemed 
 odd to me being here. I had never heard prayers read be- 
 fore; yet Mr. Seaforth leads his worship with fervor; and 
 when he begins to pray for Henry he goes beyond his book, 
 pouring out his heart. It also did but jar on my ears 
 hearing the King prayed for, and I could not join in pe- 
 titions for the success of his arms. But good Mr. Sea- 
 forth adds, of his own mind, such hearty desires for a 
 sparing of the Patriots, and that they may be brought 
 willingly and heartily to their allegiance, that his prayers 
 
220 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 can not be painful to me, though I do not hope the Lord 
 Avill answer them as Mr. Seaforth intends. 
 
 I thought it not gracious to Mistress Seaforth to bring 
 to her house my sewing for our sokliers, therefore I took 
 sewing for my cousins, that they, relieved of using their 
 needles for themselves, could do more for the army. Be- 
 sides this sewinff, I embroidered a deal for Mistress Sea- 
 forth, who congratulates herself that she hath in store 
 from Germany vast quantities of materials for this sort 
 of work. Mr. Seaforth also had lately sent by a friend 
 from London, through an officer joining Lord Howe in 
 New York, a parcel of books, and of these I have been 
 reading to Mistress Seaforth. They are the works of 
 Doctor Goldsmith, and are a tale called the " Vicar of 
 Wakefield'' and two poems, namely, "The Traveler" and 
 th.e " Deserted Village;" and as I read these to Mistress Sea- 
 forth, over them we both laughed and wept. I told Mistress 
 S. that it seemed surely as if Doctor Goldsmith had known 
 my grandfather, before he conld so well describe him as 
 the good pastor in the "Village" How happy a land 
 must England be, where such books are made and printed, 
 and where the very streets and towns are as pages out of 
 histories, written with the wonder-stories of the past, and 
 where there are such beautiful castles and toAvers, like 
 pieces out of fairy tales! Mr. Seaforth had also with these 
 another book called "Animated Nature " which I am to 
 take home to read with my cousins, as it will be vastly 
 improving to ns. It is only about four years since it was 
 printed; I never saw so new a book before! 
 
 AVhile I have been here with Mistress Seaforth I had 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 221 
 
 another letter from Bessie. She tells me she is havino: 
 very gay times. The markets are supplied in abundance; 
 her father gives dinners, and card parties, and dances, and 
 is even thinking of a ball; also, she has not seen "the un- 
 mannerly face of a creditor" of late. There are theaters, 
 to which she goes often, regarding it "almost as a pious 
 act to do so, as the officers hold the plays for the benefit 
 of soldiers' widows and orphans." There is much playing 
 at faro. Bessie has been " introduced to General Howe, 
 and he paid her a compliment." Also, Captain Banks, 
 whom Bessie knew in Boston, is coming down from Carle- 
 ton's army to be in New York, and Bessie is glad, for she 
 "likes him prodigiously." She concluded by saying that 
 she meant to write to Mr. BoAvdoin, from whom she had 
 "had a most devoted letter, only a bit too full of pious 
 counsels. Still, Mr. Bowdoin was a very pretty man, and 
 she must not forget the only lesson her father had ever 
 thought it M'orth while to teach her : that it was well to 
 have two strings to one's bow." Poor Bessie, poor Bessie ! 
 I let Mrs. Seaforth read the letter, and she said it made 
 her heart ache to think of the pretty, silly damsel, up 
 there among such evil companions with no one but a bad 
 father to guard her. And next morning the dear lady 
 said she could not sleep for thinking of that young girl, 
 motherless and friendless. "What if it had been my An- 
 nie?" said she. 
 
 "Well, qucerly enough, I had a letter next day from Mr. 
 Bowdoin. He says the farm is let to a good man, and he 
 himself thinks of going into the army. He says the 
 young men are needed for soldiers; let the men too old 
 
222 PATRIOT AS D TORY: 
 
 for ^var serve the churches, in their wisdom. But at the 
 last the true meaning of his letter crept out — he wanted 
 news of Bessie. He supposed it was hard for her to get 
 a letter out of New York to Massachusetts. He thought 
 the city a dangerous place for her. If she would consent 
 to leave New York and be married he would then see it 
 his duty to remain at Plymouth to care for her. I read 
 this letter also to Mistress Seaforth. She said : 
 
 "Why does the girl despise a love so honest? "Write 
 her to leave New York and marry this man." 
 
 " Mistress Seaforth," I said, mischievously, " he is a 
 rebel I " 
 
 " There are worse than rebels in this w^orld," she re- 
 plied. 
 
 And I did write to Bessie as she bade me, putting in all 
 the wise counsel that came from good Mistress Seaforth. 
 
 April, 1777. 
 
 Some long while ago Cousin Charles returned to his 
 regiment, and has since been in several skirmishes and 
 has escaped unharmed. We are almost daily expecting 
 this city to be seized by the enemy. Of course Mistress 
 Seaforth will not regard that as a misfortune, as it may 
 bring her son near her. We are all very active in making 
 up what supplies we can for soldiers, as, in event of Lord 
 Howe coming here, we can do no more good works of 
 the kind. 
 
 In March, General Washington exchanged some pris- 
 oners with the British. There was a deal of trouble, be- 
 cause the captives taken by our side had been well fed 
 and kept in open air, and the prisoners made by the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 223 
 
 British had been kept starving in horrible old hulks and 
 crowded prisons, deprived of air, exercise, and clean 
 clothing, until they were as skeletons, and too sickly 
 to go into ser- W 
 vice; also, 
 many of them 
 are burned up 
 with fever, or 
 sinking under 
 consumptions. 
 "Well, after long 
 delays, by va- 
 rious divisions, 
 some of these [ ^-^^^ 
 unhappy he- prison hulk, jeksey. 
 
 roes — far more to be pitied than those who fell in 
 battle — were got out and sent, some of them (as were 
 able) to camp, some to their homes, and some, who were 
 too far from home, were carried here and there to towns, 
 or farms, to recover as they might, for money, and medi- 
 cines, and hospitals are wanting, and private charity is the 
 resource for these, who have laid down their lives for our 
 sakes. So it was that on the second day of this month, being 
 sent by Judith on an errand to Mistress Bache's, as I was 
 returning I saw a man like a skeleton sitting on the curb- 
 stone of the sidewalk, truly too feeble to proceed on his 
 way. His long hair was unkempt, his clothes ragged and 
 foul, his eyes sunken in his head. How I recognized him 
 I know not, unless, as grandfather often said, mine eves 
 
 are sharper than others ; but lo ! it was no other than our 
 15 
 
224 P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 old neighbor, Isaiah Hooper. The recognition came upon 
 me as a flash, and with it a picture of the morning when, 
 on old Maple, I rode to Mistress Brown's for tea, and 
 passed this Isaiah Hooper, cheery and stalwart, striding 
 through the fields with his sowing-bag at his waist, his 
 home, with wife and babes, lying safe behind him, and the 
 promise of plenty in all the smiling plain. So, springing 
 to his side, and but half able to speak his name, I began 
 crying like a baby. He looked up, a little light gleaming 
 in his faded eyes, and said : 
 
 "Surely 'tis Abbey Temple." 
 
 And there was a sound in his hollow voice as if it did 
 him good to see a familiar face. But how should it? 
 Mistress Seaforth would have spoken sweet, kind, sooth- 
 ing words, and Judith would have seemed so strong and 
 brave that the very sight of her would have been succor. 
 Interpreting the thoughts of foolish me, who could but 
 stand crying, he said: 
 
 "Yes; this is what I am, after six. months' captivity 
 dying, far from wife and children, if, indeed, I have any." 
 
 "Oh," sobbed I, "you have them. I but now heard 
 from the minister, who says all are well. And do not say 
 dying! My Uncle John, whom you have met, lives 
 near, and you will go with me, and we will nurse you, 
 and cure you. But — how can you go so far as two 
 squares ? " 
 
 "I can do that," he said, and essayed to rise, and I 
 helped him, and, as he shook like an aspen, I had him 
 lean on my shoulder, and moved slowly. People turned 
 to stare after us, for I was neat, and dressed as became 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 225 
 
 "Isaiah Hooper, striding through ihe lields with iii.. 
 
 IS sowing-bag at his waist." 
 
226 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 my station, and poor friend Hooper — wet, ragged, and 
 dirty — looked the beggar-man indeed. I think he would 
 have fallen, although my news of his family had been to 
 him as wine, and renewed in him a flash of vigor, but 
 when we had stumbled along about half our way, up 
 came my uncle, going to his dinner, and he understood 
 my story in a few words. So putting his arm around our 
 unfortunate, he almost carried him forward, and I ran 
 on to tell Judith, and have food and a bed prepared. 
 
 No one of us could think of eating our dinner until 
 Pompey and my uncle had given this "stranger within 
 their gates" a bath, and clean garments, and laid him in 
 bed, and Judith and Nervey had prepared wine- whey and 
 set a soup cooking for his after benefit; and thus tended 
 he fell asleep, Pompey remaining in his room, for in very 
 sooth we feared he would die even in his slumber. 
 
 It was several days before Isaiah Hooper recovered 
 sufficiently to tell his story. It seems that many of the 
 prisoners in the hulks being unfit for service. General 
 Washington could not exchange sound men for them, and 
 demanded rather that they should be released on parole; 
 and so at last it was offered to release Isaiah Hooper, but 
 he refused. He "would not pass his word not to fight 
 for his country so long as breath remained in his body." 
 At last six of the invalid prisoners were exchanged for a 
 certain corporal, and Isaiah Hooper being one of the six, 
 was set free at New Brunswick, where he got a little food, 
 and managed to get to the river by Trenton, where he found 
 a sailing-boat drojiping down to Philadelphia. Sick, pen- 
 niless, homeless, hungry, he concluded to go to Philadelphia, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 227 
 
 where he hoped to get help and recover himself; but he 
 grew worse on the vessel, and being set ashore at the 
 city he staggered on, "feeling nearly crazed, and as if 
 God had forsaken him," until he Avas brought, half dead, 
 into our house, where, I am sure, he was doubly welcome 
 as a suffering Christian and as a suffering soldier. I wrote 
 to his wife for him, and I gave him what news I had, for 
 Isaiah hath not been at home since that day I helped his 
 little daughter put up his luncheon for him when he set 
 out to Cambridge. 
 
 The conduct of Mistress Seaforth was w^orth notice. 
 As soon as she heard of our sick guest she must come 
 and see him ; then she must bring him some slippers of 
 her own knitting and a gown which Henry had left home, 
 wherein he might sit up conveniently; then she would sit 
 by his bed and read the Psalms for the day, and often 
 would bring him a dish of posset, or jelly, or conserve, 
 made by herself; and so she ministered to him; — Isaiah, 
 grown gray, with a dark, rough, seamed face, his hands 
 large and horny, his voice hoarse from his cold on the 
 chest; and Mistress Seaforth, slender, fair, faded, small- 
 handed, delicate as a lily, and silver-voiced, consoling 
 and nursing the ex-captive, I met her one morning 
 bringing a panado, and I said: 
 
 "All this for a rebel, dear madame?" 
 
 "Child," she answered, "he loses the rebel in the suf- 
 ferer. But more, I see in him a victim of my own party; 
 and deeply I grieve that carelessness or cruelty, or the 
 necessary mischances of war, have caused them to reduce 
 a prisoner to so evil a case, and therefore I do my little 
 
228 - PATRIOT AM) TORY: 
 
 part to repair the wrong and relieve my king's cause 
 from ignominy." 
 
 As Isaiah grew stronger he began to talk about going 
 back to the army, and Susannah said to him : 
 
 " Mr. Hooper, surely you have suifered rpiite enough. 
 Your time of enlistment is expired, why not go home, 
 and let others take their turn?" 
 
 But he said : 
 
 "No; the country needs us all, and I shall re-enlist for 
 the war. We must fight for our freedom to a man ! " 
 
 "But you may be killed," urged Hester. "And think 
 how long it is since you saw your wife and children." 
 
 Tears came into his eyes at mention of them: but he 
 said, resolutely : 
 
 " I will not see them until I can tell my sons that 1 
 have helped purchase freedom, a free land, a good future 
 for them. 'Tis better that they grow up fatherless and 
 free, than that we are all slaves. They have a good 
 mother, and she will teach them to use freedom hon- 
 estly." 
 
 "At least," said Judith, "you might go home for a six 
 months." 
 
 "Spare me that temptation," he said. "^ly country 
 needs every hour of my health, and she shall have it. 
 Like Uriah, I can say, 'The Ark, and Israel, and Judah 
 abide in tents : and my lord Joab, and the servants of my 
 lord, are encamped in the open fields: shall I, then, go to 
 mine house?'" 
 
 And this is the man of whom once I questioned: could 
 such as he — tillers of the fields, wearers of homespun — 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 229 
 
 be heroes? Was there any thing more heroic in Alex- 
 ander, who fought for conquest, or in Hannibal, who 
 fought for vengeance, than in this man, who gives him- 
 self, and sacrifices his dearest comforts for a principle f 
 No. This, as my uncle says, is not a sowing of human 
 passions or of earthly pride, but some of Luther's seed — 
 a growth divine. 
 
 This Isaiah Hooper must be a man of iron, for after 
 wounds and privations enough to kill ten men, he is 
 growing stronger every day, and by the middle of May 
 hopes to return to the army as well as ever he was in his 
 life. He will go well fitted out by my uncle's purse and 
 our needles, with all that he can carry to make camp life 
 more hopeful or a soldier more efficient. 
 
 May 28, 1777. 
 
 While Isaiah Hooper was yet with us, w^ho should ap- 
 pear but Mr. Bowdoin. Indeed, I think that he took oc- 
 casion of the letter about Isaiah to put in practice a long- 
 laid plan, and, setting forth to join the army under Wash- 
 ington, he came, bringing letters and remembrances from 
 Mistress Hooper to her husband, and so was at our house, 
 where he could hear of Bessie. Oh ! the extent of this 
 good man's infatuation ; and oh ! the equal extent of my 
 own idiocy ; I never do the right thing at the right time. 
 My uncle asked Mr. Bowdoin to stop Avith us until, in two 
 or three days' time, he might set oif wath Isaiah Hooper 
 to join General Washington's army. The first day was 
 naturally spent with Mr. Hooper, telling all the news of 
 the home and the neighborhood — and indeed his presence 
 w^as to our friend as an angel's visit. The next day Mr, 
 
230 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 Bowdoin was about the city with my uncle, but in the 
 afternoon he managed to come upon me where I was 
 writing, by a window by my grandfather's desk, and, sit- 
 ting down, he presently led the talk to Bessie. He asked 
 about her, and I told him what I knew — only I did not 
 dare say all I knew about her gay life for fear he would 
 think me malicious or exaggerating, for I remembered all 
 that he had thought and said about that in Plymouth. 
 He asked me did Bessie speak of him, and I said she did. 
 He looked vexed at my reticence, and asked me what she 
 said : 
 
 "She meant to write you," I replied, hesitatingly. 
 
 He caught at that straw. 
 
 " Aye ; and doubtless her letter miscarried. I would I 
 might see what she wrote you. Miss Abbey." 
 
 'Now there lay Bessie's letter, as yet unanswered. I 
 could give it him, and I suddenly thought I would give 
 it, and so, with her frivolity and her "two strings to her 
 bow," end the good man's infatuation. I caught it up ; 
 then suddenly came another thought : Avould this be just 
 to Bessie? was it what she expected in writing freely to 
 me ? — and, as I felt truly she would not like my betrayal of 
 my folly, in my own most miserable style of doing every- 
 thing I took the letter — which I had half held out to him 
 — and tossed it in the fire burning on the hearth near me 
 — for the weather was cold for the season, and my uncle 
 kept a fire. As I flung the letter into the blaze Mr. Bow- 
 doin sprung up as one mortified, angry and disgusted ; he 
 gave me a very sharp, upbraiding look and left the room 
 hastily. Still following my impulses, without any reason. 
 
ONE HUNDBED YEARS AGO. 231 
 
 only feeling that I could not see Mr. Bowdoln again, I 
 rushed to Juditli and begged permission to go and stay 
 two or three days Avith Mistress Seaforth. Go I must, and 
 Judith consented. I saw none of our family but Susan- 
 nah during the next day, and I busied myself reading to 
 Mistress Seaforth and working lace for her. The day fol- 
 lowing Isaiah Hooper came in, hearty and cheerful, to say 
 "good-by" to the Seaforths and me, as he set off to join 
 the camp at Boundbrook, under Lincoln. Shortly after 
 Mr. Hooper went out I looked from the door and saw him 
 with Mr. Bowdoin, departing; and so I knew that Mr. 
 Bowdoln had gone away in anger at me; and the feeling 
 of sorrow — l)ut truly more of wrath — at being misjudged 
 so overwhelmed me that, having carefully concealed thus 
 far my vexations from Mistress Seaforth, I fled to her for 
 comfort now, and, laying my face in her lap, I sobbed 
 with all my might, and told her how undecided I had 
 been, and how JNIr. Bowdoin was sure now that I was Bes- 
 sie's enemy and envier, and that I loved to thwart him 
 and hurt his feelings. Mistress Seaforth said very little 
 beyond that '' it would all come out right by and by," and 
 yet she comforted me greatly, and by supper time I went 
 home quite cheerful. 
 
 While I was at Mistress Seaforth's I met Mr. Duch6. 
 He has been thought a very good man and good Patriot, 
 and gave his salary as Chaplain of the Congress for the 
 use of soldiers' orphans ; but I thought I discerned in him 
 a little of a change that is creeping over the good city of 
 Philadelphia — a change that comes as the British draw 
 nearer us, and as expectations of their occupying our town 
 
232 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 tire stronger ; the change is a veering toward Royalism. 
 I should think people would be ashamed to change ! I 
 would be one thing or the other, and hold to it, and die 
 for it, if need were, and not be a turn-coat ! Even if the 
 enemy do occupy Philadelphia, as they have Xew York, 
 that will not be to conquer the whole country ; they may 
 be obliged to leave, as they left Boston ; and a city is less 
 to gain than a State ; and Washington is driving them 
 out of the Jerseys, and we hear from Charles that the 
 army is on a better footing, and the men are in better 
 spirits now than ever before. Still, I will admit that in 
 this city Toryism is looking up. I do not mean in such 
 men as Mr. Seaforth — they are always the same ; but peo- 
 ple who, from fear or policy, have concealed their senti- 
 ments, now dare come out and show them. Last Sabbath 
 a clergyman here publicly read prayers for the king — and 
 tliat in this city, where, less than one year ago, our inde- 
 pendence was so enthusiastically asserted. 
 
 JcLY 20, 1777. 
 The British have evacuated New Jersey, and General 
 Prescott, the commander of the British in Rhode Island, 
 has been captured. My uncle says that if he is exchanged 
 for General Lee it will be the worst capture that ever 
 army made. The 4th of July was celebrated with great 
 rejoicings here. The bells rung, cannon were fired, our 
 new flag floated from ships and houses, the captured band 
 of Hessians played for us, and there was a dinner for of- 
 ficers and members of Congress ; also, at night there were 
 bonfires, and illuminations, and fireworks. Xervey made 
 one hundred c-.ndles to illuminate our house, and we girls 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 233 
 
 The 4th of July Wixs cek'bratod with great rejoicings here. 
 
234 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 prepared a flag, which waved over our door, and we had 
 a stri}) of white linen stretched between the windows be- 
 low, with '■^ Our Country'^ thereon, made of leaves and 
 fine vines. 
 
 Burgoyne is moving southward, and his progress from 
 
 C a n a d a is marked 
 
 with Indian ravages, 
 captives, b u r n i n g s, 
 t o r t u e s , scalpings. 
 Had we not a Her- 
 kimer to keep up our 
 hearts they would 
 sink with fear when 
 we hear the dolorous 
 ncAvs from the val- 
 leys of the Oswego 
 and the jNI o h a w k . 
 Some of the best 
 men from the other 
 armies have been de- 
 
 GENERAL BURGOYNE. 
 
 tached to go to General Gates, in the Northern Army, and 
 help him fight the Indians. One of the companies thus 
 ordered off is that to which Thomas Otis belongs. I did 
 not know it at the time, but found it out by his coming 
 here. Some stores and clothes were needed from Phila- 
 delphia previous to marching, and three men and a cor- 
 poral came down, and Thomas was that corporal ; and, 
 being in town, he came here and stayed one night ; in- 
 deed, my uncle had his men come too, and we made beds 
 for them in the attic, and uncle fed them royally ; also, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 235 
 
 Judith gave them all socks, kerchiefs, shirts and towels ; 
 also, uncle gave them some money, and a small Bible to 
 two whose Bibles were lost. Thomas Otis, having money 
 of his own, was very well dressed. He says he shall be 
 a sergeant soon, and so go on. Being brave he will rise 
 in rank, and before the close of the war he will be a 
 general. 
 
 The girls liked Thomas very much, and he told us 
 many stories of camp life while he stayed. Hester thinks 
 that Thomas is braver than Richard Reid, because he is 
 always the hero of his own stories. I do not judge be- 
 tween them. I am sure Richard is brave enough ; but 
 perhaps he does not tell all that he does. After Thomas 
 was gone what does Hester do but say to Judith that 
 Thomas was my lover, which I denied. She then said : 
 
 " Why, then, do you not like him ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes," I said ; " for a long while he was my only 
 playmate — as a brother; for I had no brother nor sister.'' 
 
 " But he is not your brother," quoth Hester, " and 
 therefore if you like him he must be your lover." 
 
 " That is impossible," I said, " for I am only seventeen 
 this year." 
 
 " Girls of seventeen can have lovers," said Hester. " I 
 should like one, I know." 
 
 Then Judith interrupted us. She asked Hester did she 
 not see that there was another relation for a young lad to 
 stand in beside brother or lover, even friend. Also, she 
 said that as at seventeen girls were too young to marry, 
 so it should be too young for them to have lovers ; and 
 that this playing at love was a frittering away and be- 
 
236 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 littling of our best sentiments ; it was dwarfing to the 
 mind and enfeebling to the heart. " If," said Judith, 
 ^' you had a choice apple on a tree which you would have 
 grow to full perfection, you would not be going up to. it 
 betimes and taking bites out, one here and one there. 
 If you did not quite destroy your apple in the operation 
 you would have no fair and perfect fruit. Why must you 
 spoil the full and perfect development of your young 
 hearts by taking bites out of them in this playing at love- 
 making? Again, it may be incredible to you how be- 
 tween seventeen and twenty-one your opinions and pref- 
 erences will change, so that what suited your hearts at 
 seventeen will come far short of them at twenty-one. By 
 playing at lovers too early, you may entangle yourself in 
 a way to be regretted hereafter, or you may be some time 
 the object of your own contempt that your preference 
 stooped so low." 
 
 Now I could not endure that Judith should think me 
 other than I am, so when we were alone I said to her: 
 
 "Indeed Cousin, Hester is wrong; there is no 'lover' 
 about the business. But, Judith, doubtless I also was 
 wrong, for Thomas had a lock of my hair, and — once he 
 kissed my hand." 
 
 I think Judith had some ado to keep from laughing, 
 but she said : 
 
 "Well, the lad is a good lad, but the years bring many 
 changes, and none so great as in ourselves." 
 
 The night after Thomas departed, Hester was crying 
 after we were gone to bed; therefore I asked what ailed 
 her, and she replied that she feared Thomas would be 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 237 
 
 scalped by those dreadful Indians, and that if I cared for 
 him I Avould cry too. I told her I did care for him 
 some — but not enough to make me fancy he would be 
 scalped by Indians, when as yet he had not got out of 
 Jersey. Then Susannah put in her word, namely, that 
 " if Thomas is so brave as he boasts there is not a living 
 Indian would venture to scalp him;" so we laughed at 
 that. But, oh, I wish the war, and the thought of scalp- 
 ing and killing, were over, and all were safe at home. 
 , October 5, 1777. 
 
 Dark days indeed since I wrote ! General Sullivan has, 
 by poor management, 
 
 lost several hundred 
 of our best troops, 
 and now when I hear 
 of " killed, wounded, 
 and_prz,soners," I think 
 of Isaiah Hooper as 
 he was the day I 
 found him in our 
 street, and I think 
 one fate is as evil as 
 the other. 
 
 Late in July there 
 came from France a 
 young Marquis, named 
 
 GENERAL SULLIVAN. 
 
 Lafayette, and with him the Baron De Kalb, two who 
 bring their swords to our cause, desirous of no pay, and 
 eager to fight for the common cause of human liberty, 
 yet my uncle says Congress at first treated them scurvily 
 
238 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 and ungratefully enough. But though they were younger 
 men than ho, my uncle would take off his hat and stand 
 bareheaded as they passed, as thus paying all his tribute 
 
 to highest hu- 
 man worth. I 
 met them twice 
 or thrice in the 
 streets and in- 
 deed I could 
 only think of 
 that Scripture : 
 " Greater love 
 hath no man 
 than this, that a 
 man should lay 
 down his life for 
 h i s f r i e n d .' 
 However, the 
 two heroes — as 
 surely they are 
 — are now with Washington, and he knows how to honor 
 worth. When I saw them I could only wonder what 
 would be their fates in this war in the New World. 
 
 On the 24tli of August I had another opportunity of 
 seeing General Washington. He marched his army 
 through our city on his way to Wilmington. Mr. Sea- 
 forth's house was kept closed, both doors and windows ; 
 but we opened all, and hung out our flag and streamers, 
 and set forth flo\vcrs, and Susannah and Hester made a 
 bouquet, and flung it right at the General, just as he came 
 
 GENERAL LAFAYETTE. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 239 
 
 up the street; but for me he seemed too great a man to 
 throw flowers to. 
 
 Daily the British forces crept closer to our city, and 
 some said they would enter, and some said not. On the 
 18th of September my uncle was obliged to go to the 
 army on some business. He was carrying some money, 
 and also some medical stores, and he had business with 
 the General. I understand that my uncle is pledging his 
 estates in Ncav Jersey for the support of the array. Hav- 
 ing gone, he was unable to return when he would, acd on 
 the 25th of September, Lord Howe's army encamped at 
 Germantown, and on the next morning Cornwallis with 
 the grenadiers 
 marched into Phila- 
 delphia and took 
 possession. So here 
 were we, our enemies 
 in the city, the air 
 full of tales of their 
 rapacity. Uncle John 
 and Charles away, 
 and what seemed 
 worst of all, now no 
 longer would we be 
 able to get news of 
 our Charles, nor of 
 the army at Saratoga, 
 where daily a battle with General Burgoyne is expected. 
 
 The loud sound of martial music, the shouts and yells 
 
 of the populace, and the tramp of many feet, told us that 
 16 
 
 LORD CORN W ALUS. 
 
240 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 ^ye were in the enemy's hands. From every Royalist's 
 door floated British flags and colors, and appeared flowers. 
 Do I complain of that? So we greeted our chief Avhen 
 he came; alas, that he went so soon ! Thus Mistress Sea- 
 forth's house was gay; but we closed ours, door and win- 
 dows, like a tomb. And Hester, unknown to any, tied 
 four yards of black crape to the knocker. Peter had been 
 back on our hands for a week, and he and Pompey fled 
 howling to the cellar ; Nervey being braver, tarried — at 
 the top of the cellar stairs. Judith and we three girls 
 dressed in deep black, and sat in our darkened parlor, 
 waiting what might come. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 October 20, 1777. 
 T WAS interrupted in describing the day when the 
 -^ British took possession of Philadelphia. The bells 
 rung, many people shouted welcome, and there was a hurry 
 and bustle in all the city as the conquerors were seeking 
 quarters. After an hour there was a furious knocking at 
 our door. At the sound Nervey screamed and dashed 
 into the cellar, but the younger maid rallied courage to 
 open the hall-door; then, seeing a British officer, she too 
 screamed and fled, leaving our visitor to do as he pleased. 
 As he pleased to come in he appeared at the parlor door, 
 and Judith rose — Susannah clinirin<>: to her arm on one 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 241 
 
 side and Hester standing quite independently on the other, 
 Avhile I was a bit in advance. The intruder was a captain, 
 who gave a rude stare; but something in Judith's look 
 daunted him, for he uncapped and asked civilly: 
 
 "Where are the gentlemen of this house?" 
 
 "Sir," said Judith, every word falling clear and cold, 
 "they are in the army with General Washington." 
 
 He looked a bit rebuffed, then said: 
 
 "Is there a corpse in the house? — I notice a crape on 
 the door." 
 
 None knowing of this but Hester, she took it on 
 herself to reply : 
 
 "'Tis for our cause — slain here in this city, but Ave look 
 for a speedy resurrection," 
 
 The air and tone of the damsel were so cunning that he 
 was inclined to laugh, and he said : 
 
 " The weed is immense ! " 
 
 "So is our woe," retorted Hester, sharply. 
 
 He turned to Judith : 
 
 " Madam, we shall be obliged to use this mansion as 
 quarters for our colonel. We must have a dinner. Doubt- 
 less you have provisions in the house, and you will kindly 
 set your servants at the cooking. I will also look through 
 the apartments and select quarters for our colonel and his 
 staff." 
 
 His air was impudence itself. Judith said, quietly: 
 
 "We are unable to defend ourselves." 
 
 He called in a lieutenant and a corporal** who Averc 
 lounging on the portico, and the three Avere soon ranging 
 the house at their pleasure; but I will say that they did not 
 
242 -P^ TRIO T A SD TOR Y: 
 
 touch any thing. They returned to the parlor, and the 
 captahi said, coolly : 
 
 " We shall Avant all but the attic. You might remove 
 all your clothing, and so forth, there. But I do not see 
 any servants. Have you none?" 
 
 "We have four," said Judith. 
 
 "Are they in the house?" he demanded, loudly. 
 
 ^'They are negroes, and afraid," said Judith, quietly, 
 "and they have taken refuge in the cellar." 
 
 "He turned to the corporal and bid him: "Hunt them 
 out." The corporal took one of the big silver candle- 
 sticks with a wax candle, lighted it in the kitchen, went 
 to the cellar, found the negroes hidden in an empty wine 
 vault, and drove them up by pricking them with his bay- 
 onet. They scrambled up howling, expecting instant death. 
 I at once went to them and bid the corporal let them 
 alone, as I would be answerable for their good behavior. 
 Seeing me unterrified they stopped roaring, and I bid 
 them go about getting a good dinner. I then hurried to 
 the parlor, and heard Judith asking Avhen the colonel 
 would come, and how large the party would be. The 
 captain told her politely, and then withdrew. 
 
 As soon as we were left alone I asked Judith what she 
 intended to do. She replied that she should stay in her 
 house, hoping thus to keep her property from injury. 
 She bade Susannah and Hester hasten to remove our 
 clothing and small treasures to the garret, and to hide all 
 uncle's papers and his writing-desk in the garret chimney. 
 She bade me strip the closets and parlor of what silver 
 would not be missed and hide it in the mouth of an old 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 243 
 
 oven in the cellar. She bade us also be ready to sit at 
 table with her, and to be calm, grave, and yet fearless. 
 Then, as we hastened to obey, she went to quiet the serv- 
 ants and forward preparations for dinner. I finished the 
 work set me, and then laid the dinner-table. After that 
 I Avent into the parlor to Judith. In a few moments in 
 came several as if they owned the house, and the captain 
 whom we had seen threw open the parlor door, crying : 
 
 " This way. Colonel ! " 
 
 The colonel entered, but seeing Judith standing queenly 
 before the hearth, he bowed low, with all due reverence, 
 and the captain said : 
 
 " Colonel Nelson, M— " 
 
 "Jliss," said Judith. 
 
 "Miss Temple," he continued. 
 
 The Colonel — a very handsome man — said a few words 
 about "sorry to incommode — fortunes of war — glad of 
 ladies' society," etc. 
 
 "Sir," said Judith, "I could truly wish that you had 
 chosen other house than mine for your quarters. I am 
 here without a protector, and have no married relative to 
 remain with this family, being myself sole chaperon of 
 three young damsels whom the presence of your staif will 
 greatly discompose." 
 
 "I will endeavor to maintain good order amon^ mv fol- 
 lowers," he replied, and was about to say more when the 
 the door opened and in came our Susannah, but stood, 
 startled like a fawn, in the doorway, for she had not ex- 
 pected to see strangers there so soon. At the sight of Su- 
 sannah, Colonel Nelson stood for an instant like a man 
 
244 PATRIOT A^'D TOBY.- 
 
 ^vho had soon a supernatural vision; then he gave a low 
 bow, and stepped forward, handing a chair. 
 
 "'Tis my sister," said Judith; ''one of the maidens I 
 spoke of," and she beckoned Susannah to her, who came? 
 keeping as far from the colonel as possible. 
 
 Just then we heard a voice welcome as a sound out of 
 heaven, and in hurried Mr. Seaforth. He shook hands 
 with Colonel Nelson, and, stepping to Judith's side, said: 
 
 "These ladies are not in a situation to receive strangers. 
 Colonel. I trust you can find other quarters." 
 
 "Our orders are to quarter in rebel houses," said the 
 colonel, looking puzzled, "and this house was pointed out 
 as foremost." 
 
 " I Avill see Lord Cornwallis about it," said Mr. Seaforth. 
 "The father of these ladies is my particular friend, and 
 this lady (and he drew Judith's arm in his) is engaged te 
 be married to my son." 
 
 "There must be some mistake, then, made by the cap- 
 tain," said the colonel; if so, I sincerely beg pardon. Are 
 these Royalists f" 
 
 " My friend Temple and I have agreed to disagree about 
 politics," said Mr. Seaforth, quietly. " I will be respon- 
 sible for your finding quarters just as good, and, on some 
 accounts, more suitable. I have sent a note to the Gen- 
 eral — ." 
 
 Just then Mr. Seaforth's servant lad came in and gave 
 him a note, which he handed to Colonel Nelson. 
 
 " I regret having alarmed or incommoded these ladies," 
 said the colonel, glancing at the note, " and will at once 
 withdraw." 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 245 
 
 "Sir," said Judith, Avitli lior stately courtesy, "I have 
 ah'eady ordered a dinner for you and your staff; pray, re- 
 main and eat it as our guests. AVe shall be glad to have 
 you occupy our house until evening, when, perhaps, your 
 other quarters will be in readiness. Believe me, you are 
 cordially welcome to dinner and supper." 
 
 At this every one seemed pleased. Mr. Seaforth was 
 obliged to go home, as he had guests to dinner: but he 
 left us all in a complacent frame of mind. 
 
 Peter showed the officers to rooms where they might 
 arrange their dress, and they re-appeared with splendid 
 ruffles and powdered hair. Hester dressed the dinner- 
 table in flowers, and it looked truly elegant; and though we 
 did not lay aside the black which we had donned, we put 
 on lace, powder, and pearls, and tried to play the hostesses 
 in a suitable manner. As for the colonel, he was from 
 the first instant so enraptured with Susannah that he had 
 neither eyes nor ears for any thing else ; but Susannah 
 was entirely unconscious thereof. 
 
 After dinner, which passed off very nicely — although I 
 had expected Pompey and Peter, from very fear, to drop 
 every dish which they touched — we left the table, Judith 
 having ordered wine for the guests. The wine being fin- 
 
 o O o 
 
 ished, the officers went upon the back verandah to pace 
 up and down, smoking ; and as I was less alarmed than 
 Susannah,* and less belligerent than Hester, Judith sent 
 me to say to the gentlemen that they were to order any 
 thing which t\\ef desired from Pompey; also that she 
 would give them supper at 7 o'clock. Colonel Nelson 
 said to me, very cautiously: 
 
246 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " AVe drank your fair-haired sister's health, but had 
 not the pleasure of knowing her name." 
 
 " She is my cousin, and her name is Susannah," I replied. 
 
 He made answer : 
 
 "She is very beautiful. She would be considered beau- 
 tiful even in Loudon."-'^ 
 
 It angered me in a moment. " Even in London I " 
 As if we Colonists had no right to be beautiful ! And 
 quick I said : 
 
 "She is esteemed beautiful even in Philadclpliia! '^ 
 
 Thereat he only bowed; but the others smiled broadly. 
 "When I returned to Judith — who, with the other girls, 
 had retreated up stairs, that part of the house now being 
 secure from the intrusion of our guests — she asked me to 
 sit on the verandah above that where the officers were 
 Avalking, that, thus being in sight of the servants, who 
 "svere Avorking in the kitchen, they might be more com- 
 posed, and that while I was within hearing of the mo- 
 tions of the officers Susannah might feel less nervous and 
 affrighted. Taking my seat there I could not avoid hear- 
 ing this talk from the colonel and the captain. The col- 
 onel remarked : 
 
 " I had not expected to meet such a bevy of beauties. 
 Zounds ! I would I had on my best uniform : I look but a 
 lout in these shabby clothes. Truly, if the Colonies are 
 full of such maidens as we have seen here, I for one will 
 be loath to fight with their fathers and brothers. We had 
 better seek peace, and make love instead of war." 
 
 " Certes," said the captain, " I came in here this morn- 
 ■'■'See Frontispiece. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 247 
 
 ing bold as brass, and feeling somewhat lofty toward 
 rebels, who had occasioned our coming over seas and ex- 
 periencing so many disasters. AVhen, entering yon par- 
 lor, such a picture met my eyes as I had never expected 
 to see. The eldest Miss Temple stood facing me, with a 
 lofty, questioning look — standing, beautiful and grand, 
 sole guardian of the other three, and appearing not un- 
 worthy of her office. On one side of her was that tall, 
 gold-haired, lily-faced maiden, clinging to her sister ; on 
 the other, the piquant, black-eyed, dark-browed little de- 
 mon, whom I would fear to have pass by me were I, 
 like Sisera, asleep in a tent; and, a little way in advance 
 of the three, that other Miss Temple, with gray eyes and 
 innocent brow — a face like an accusing angel — whom I 
 would dread to meet at the gate of Paradise, did I go 
 thither laden with any serious crime." 
 
 I think he was horrid to speak so of Hester, just be- 
 cause she is brave. 
 
 It was nine o'clock before the British left our house. 
 The colonel apologized to Judith for the trouble he had 
 given her, and further, begged that while remaining in 
 the city he might be permitted to call upon us. He said, 
 also, that he trusted the troops would not inconvenience 
 the citizens, but that the officers would add to the social 
 pleasures of the coming winter. After the colonel and 
 his staff had departed, INIr. Seaforth came in to see that 
 we were comfortable for the night. He told Judith that 
 he could almost positively assure her that we should suflPer 
 no additional molestation, and that the peace and order 
 of the city would be preserved ; and he said that he 
 
248 PA TRIO T A ND TOR Y: 
 
 trusted in a short time to got a permit for Uncle John, 
 who is now shut out of the city, to return home. 
 
 Before the British entered the city we had heard of a 
 battle — on the 19tli of September — fought at Freeman's 
 Farm, on the Hudson, in which the Americans were vic- 
 torious. Cook's Connecticut militia were engaged, and, 
 as I think Deborah Samson belongs to that, I have been 
 M-ondering about her fate. My heart also follows the for- 
 tunes of my old friends — the Danas, and of Isaiah Hooper, 
 and Mr. Bowdoin. And I think often of what Dame 
 Warren told me when I wished for more stirring times : 
 that when one was out on the bay in a storm one would 
 sigh for the calm of the summer mill-pond. 
 
 We kept much within-doors, and, except one call from 
 Colonel Nelson, we saw no one until the evening of the 
 19th of October, when Uncle John — furnished by Mr. 
 Seaforth with a permit from General Howe — returned 
 home, to our great joy. Supper was prepared at once, 
 while our traveler refreshed himself with a bath. Then 
 uncle came dowu to the dining-room, and Judith must 
 sit beside him while she made his coffee, and Susannah 
 brought her seat so close on the other side that he could 
 hardly move his arm, while Hester hung on the back of 
 the chair, and kept up a running fire of questions; and I, 
 posted opposite them, had also my claims, and allowed no 
 break in the narrative. Meantime all the servants gath- 
 ered at the doorway to hear what was to be told, and to 
 mutter betAveen times that they " nebber, nebbcr look 
 to see Massa Temple home no more." So much Avas 
 to be told on both sides that we never retired until 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 249 
 
 midnight, and we forced Uncle John to give us his story 
 first. 
 
 At all events we have had a victory that shall go far 
 to pay us for the loss of Philadelphia. On the 7th of 
 October the army un- 
 der Gates and Lin- 
 coln joined battle 
 with B u r g o y n e . 
 Neither Gates nor 
 Lincoln were on the 
 field, but Arnold was 
 there, without a com- 
 mand. The battle w^as 
 very hot, and victory 
 remained with our 
 Patriots. Of the 
 British, many officers 
 were killed, and 
 among others, Fraser, 
 the Scotchman. I am very sorry he was killed; all say 
 he was honest, brave, and kind ; and then he had a wife 
 and little children. Oh, I do wish he had stopped at 
 home, in his own land of mountains, and lakes, and 
 heather, and nol)lc memories! 
 
 After this battle General Burgoyne retreated, and the 
 next night he abandoned his sick, and wounded, and the 
 hospital. I dare say the poor souls were frightened then ; 
 but I am sure our men will treat them kindly. If I 
 thought they would not, for the sake of their friends at 
 home, I would like to go up and nurse them myself. 
 
 GENERAL FRASER. 
 
250 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY. 
 
 Stark, with two thousand men from Xew Hampshire, 
 now broke up the British posts at Fishkill, and took all 
 their boats and stores. Gates followed close on Bur- 
 goyne's rear, and on the 12th, the British were entircly 
 surrounded by the Americans; therefore, next day Bur- 
 goyne asked for terms of surrender. • My uncle savs that 
 General Gates's fault is want of firmness. If he had been 
 
 BURGOYNE'S ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 a little more resolute he could have had the whole of 
 Burgoyne's army as prisoners of war. Burgoyne, how- 
 ever, was sharp enough, and he got a passage for his 
 army from Boston to Britain, on condition of serving no 
 more in America. So our Americans marched into, the 
 British camp playing " Yankee Doodle,'' and the British 
 laid down their arms and marched out, and the Ameri- 
 cans served rations of flour to the British, who had 
 neither bread nor flour left. So here, uncle says, we 
 
PA TRIOT A XD TOR Y: 
 
 251 
 
 have made way with ten thousand of onr enemy, and 
 have got forty-two brass field-pieces and forty-six hun- 
 dred good muskets. 
 
 For my part I do not care much about empty honors^ 
 and prisoners of war, and all that; what I want is peace. 
 I am glad these ten thousand are gone; and I wish all 
 the rest would go, and that across the big, wide water we 
 
 SCENE OF BURGOYNE'S SURRENDER. 
 
 could all shake hands and be comfortable, as neighbors 
 even distant, and relations so near, ought to be. 
 
 INIy uncle says that this victory gives him more courage 
 than any thing since the war began — not so much for 
 what has been done as because of ivho did it. A srreat 
 general gained for us the battle of Trenton; but great 
 generals are scarce, and can not be on hand to gain all 
 our victories. The conquerors at Saratoga were not great 
 generals, but yeomen — farmers, fighting in unison in regi- 
 
252 -^'1 TRIO T A ND TOR Y: 
 
 nients; countrymen, almost fresh from the fiehls — brave, 
 and true, and calm. The husbandmen of A^irginia, and 
 New York, and New England, fighting as one man for 
 one cause, gained that day. This shows us what Ameri- 
 can unity can do. 
 
 I^ncle says report is that the negroes, of whom there 
 are some (mostly as servants) in every regiment, fought 
 as bravely as any one. He said this looking at Pompey; 
 but Pompey only laughed, and mumbled something about 
 "a whole skin." 
 
 I asked uncle if he had any news of Pobert Shirtliffe, 
 and he said that Charles understood that Robert sniFered 
 . from a sword cut in the head at Saratoga. 
 
 After uncle's story was done we told ours; and w^e all 
 felt what the firm friendship of Mr. Seaforth is now worth 
 to us. It is through him that we have our home in quiet; 
 that uncle is come back; that uncle's property and ware- 
 houses are unmolested. We had also to tell uncle of war 
 affairs near us. 
 
 On the 27th of September an American frigate care- 
 lessly got aground here at ebb tide and surrendered ;. and 
 -on October 2d, Colonel Nelson went over and captured 
 the works at Billingsport. The garrison there spiked the 
 guns and fled. On the morning of the 4th of October, 
 we in Philadelphia were awakened by the sound of can- 
 non at Germantown. Almost as soon as the echoes of 
 the guns rolled over the city we heard Cornwallis's grena- 
 diers and Hessians marching in haste from the town. We 
 all rose, and spent a dreadful day. Doubtless, Charles 
 and Henry Seaforth were engaged in opposite armies; the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 253 
 
 battle might sweep into Philadelphia, and by night the 
 city might be in the hands of our Americans, or we 
 might see our beloved general brought in captive, and 
 all our cause lost. It was only a little after daylight 
 when we were all assembled in the parlor. Judith had 
 worship much earlier tlian usual — she always leads wor- 
 ship when uncle. is gone, but commonly after breakfast. 
 As for breakfast, neither that nor dinner Avas wanted by 
 any of us that day. At night we learned from Mr. Sea- 
 forth that the Americans, after a partial success, had been 
 defeated. (Uncle tells us since that it was because of the 
 failure of General Greene to support Washington.) The 
 next morning Mr. Seaforth told us that Henry had not 
 been in the battle, and that the xVmericans had withdrawn 
 in good order. Later, he found from a prisoner that 
 Charles's regiment had not been in action. Some of the 
 wounded prisoners were brought into the city, and, 
 through Mr. Seaforth, we got five to take care of, Mr. 
 Seaforth becoming responsible on our parts that they 
 should not escape. We put them in the attic, and in- 
 stalled Pompey as head nurse. 
 
 NOVEMBEU 1, 1777. 
 
 On the morning of the 21st the company of wliieh 
 Henry Seaforth is captain came into the city. INIrs. Sea- 
 forth's joy was so great as partly to console us who love 
 her, for the disasters that brought a British company into 
 quarters here. As for Judith, her heart was divided. Un- 
 doubtedly she was infinitely glad once more to see Henry, 
 whom she loves passionately ; but as an ardent ^^atriot, she 
 deeply felt the disaster to her cause, which had been the 
 
254 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 means of bringing him. My uncle's counsel to her was 
 clear common sense : " You, my daughter, had no share 
 in those chances of war that put our city in an enemy's 
 hands. Accept, then cheerfully and without hesitation or 
 self-upbraiding, what happiness has been provided for 
 you in Henry's society. "While he is here, forget in the 
 lover the British officer. His following of his convic- 
 tions of duty is as honorable to him as yours to you. 
 Be happy, my child, while you may, that the future may 
 bring you no cause to regret coldness, or conflict, or neg- 
 lect." Colonel Nelson had only called upon us once thus 
 far; I think he showed himself the gentleman by remain- 
 ing away, so long as we had no protector in our house, 
 and he had no one to recommend him personally to our 
 society. However, he had known Henry well in Xew 
 York, and when both my uncle and Henry had been at 
 home some days. Colonel Nelson had Henry bring him to 
 visit us, and say a good word for him to my uncle. I 
 say " to visit us," but the truth is, he comes only to see 
 Susannah, as is evident to all — but her. We have had 
 more fighting; on the twenty-second of October, Colonel 
 Dono}) was ordered to carry Redbank by assault. It was 
 a day of hard fighting; the Americans being intrenched, 
 were comparatively safe, but the poor Hessians were 
 mowed down like grain in the fields, and Donop was 
 terribly Mounded ; the unhappy man is since dead, and 
 we heard from Colonel Nelson that he said as he died, 
 " I die a victim of my ambition and the avarice of my 
 king." I think it so wicked for those petty European 
 sovereii2:ns to sell their men to be sent here to fight; and 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 255 
 
 Colonel Nelson frankly said here the other evening, that 
 the whole system of hiring mercenaries was a disgrace to 
 humanity, and a scandalous perversion of the rights aad 
 duties of kings. 
 
 After this battle we added to our hospital in the attic 
 one inmate, or, rather, one of the Americans was so well 
 as to leave, and we took in a poor Hessian who had 
 crawled, wounded, into the woods after the Redbank affair, 
 and then somehow reached the city half dead. My uncle 
 got hold of him, and volunteered to cure him, so he got 
 the spare pallet in the attic. He was delirious with fever 
 wdien he got to us, but uncle put him to bed, had his 
 wound dressed, and gave him an opiate. Next morning, 
 while Judith and I had gone up to see the patients, and 
 do various good offices for them, this Hessian awoke in his 
 right mind, but very feeble. Judith bent over him, ask- 
 ing, in German, how he felt, and the poor fellow thought 
 first that he was in heaven, and then that he was at home, 
 and presently burst into tears. Judith sat down by him, 
 and consoled him with hopes of recovering and getting 
 home to his children ; and then she repeated the twenty- 
 third psalm in German, while I fed him his breakfast. 
 He is doing nicely now, and he has told Judith how he 
 and h.is fellows hated to come away from home to fight 
 and die in a cause for which they cared nothing, and how 
 some of them tried to run away, and were driven on ship- 
 board at the point of the bayonet. I do pity these Hes- 
 ?jians; they could not help coming here, nor could the 
 other mercenaries. 
 
 A letter from Charles has been smuggled into the city, 
 17 
 
256 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 and be tells us of the brave and lovely Baroness Riedesel, 
 wbo was witb ber two children and busband taken pris- 
 oner at Saratoga, and has since been sent bere and tbere, 
 waiting exchange or something, and has often been sciir- 
 vily treated by country folk, just because she is an enemy. 
 They should sink the enemy in the prisoner, but Charles 
 says General Schuyler behaved nobly to her, and to all 
 the captives, as becomes such a gentleman and scholar as 
 the General is said to be. After Donop's defeat at Red- 
 bank, two British ships got aground in the river, the "Au- 
 gusta," of sixty-four guns — and next day the Americans 
 destroyed her by firing hot shot into her powder maga- 
 zine — and the frigate " Merlin," which was abandoned and 
 burned. My uncle, who from having been in the army 
 lately knows how things are going on, says that Washing- 
 ton could retake Philadelphia if the militia of Pennsyl- 
 vania would only rise ; but they are discouraged, and very 
 largely disaffected, and also there are cabals formed 
 against our good General in Congress, and the other Gen- 
 erals, as Greene and Gates, do not work harmoniously 
 with him and properly obey orders. To-day, while I am 
 writing, the attack on Redbank is renewed, and I shiver 
 to think that every moment is death or pain to some hu- 
 man being not far from me. 
 
 NovEjiBER 28, 1777. 
 
 The winter here is a scene of great gaiety: the British 
 officers and the townspeople — now very many — who are 
 in favor of the British, give balls and parties ; there are 
 dances and card-playing and theaters, and one Avould think, 
 from what goes on, that war and pain and death were un- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 257 
 
 known in this Avorld. My uncle is very much distressed 
 at such follies during these sad times, and though we are 
 all invited by the officers to attend some of the merry- 
 makings, we go to none. Also, there is a deal of Sunday 
 visiting and concert giving, but my uncle resolutely shuts 
 his doors on that day ; ev^en Henry Seaforth stays away 
 from us Sabbath, for fear of setting others example to 
 come. Mr. Seaforth has given some dinners and one or 
 two tea-parties by way of showing hospitality, but he does 
 not fancy the masquerades and revellings and routs any 
 more than my uncle does ; besides, Annie is very sad and 
 anxious about Charles, and does not care to take part in 
 many amusements. Meantime, Colonel Nelson comes to 
 our house continually on one excuse or on another, and 
 he brings Susannah flowers and books, and has shown 
 her pictures of his mother, a widow, and of his young sis- 
 ter. Even Susannah sees now his devotion to her. Hes- 
 ter said to her one day, " To think, Susannah, that you 
 should have a British officer for a lover !" 
 
 " He shall never be lover of mine so long as he is an 
 enemy to my country," replied Susannah, with spirit. 
 
 " Perhaps you can cause him to come over to our side," 
 suggested Hester. 
 
 " Were he so changeable I should like him worse than 
 ever," said she. 
 
 "And do you like him, then?" I asked. 
 
 Susannah laughed and blushed. "Were he a patriot I 
 would tell you." One day the colonel brought to our 
 house a captain just from Xew York, Captain Banks. We 
 none of us liked him. I wondered if it were the same 
 
258 -P'i TRIOT AND TOR Y : 
 
 Captain Banks of wlioni Bessie had spoken, but I would 
 not ask him. Well, it was only a week after Captain 
 Banks came that I was called down to the parlor where 
 were Uncle John, Henry Seaforth and Judith. I ran 
 down the stairs and briskly in at the parlor door, when a 
 figure all flowers and veil, satin, lace, furbelows and gen- 
 eral splendors flew to meet me, and there was Bessie 
 clasping me and kissing me and calling me "darling Ab- 
 bey," " dearest love," and what not. Still I was glad to 
 see her, and I thought she looked very pretty, prettier 
 than ever, though a bit too much of a fine lady. But 
 hardly had Bessie done embracing me than Mr. Warley 
 pounced at me, kissed my cheek, pressed my hand, shed a 
 few tears, and vowed that he was rejoiced to see me, and 
 was proud indeed that I was so improved. Then he 
 made me take a seat by him on the sofa, and told my 
 uncle that he felt a relationship with all his family on ac- 
 count of my residence with them, for he regarded me 
 quite as another daughter, as a younger sister of his Bes- 
 sie. Daughter, indeed! His parental zeal for Bessie has 
 led him to teach her to have two strings to her bow — and 
 he never taught me any thing! My uncle was not very 
 cordial to Mr. Warley, but he was kind to Bessie, and bid 
 her come to us often. Bessie and her father reached toAvn 
 the day before they called on us. I know Mr. Warley 
 never says or does any thiug that has not self-interest at 
 the bottom of it, and I wonder what is his object in being 
 friendly to us. I told Judith that it seemed to me that our 
 Colonial prospects must look even more favorable to the 
 eyes of the British than to ours ; and INIr. Warley, aware 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 259 
 
 thereof, has now two strings to his bow, one of them being 
 the Temple family. 
 
 Mr. Warley's business in the city kept him much from 
 his lodgings; indeed, when he did not have_ business I 
 think he was haunting the faro-tables, and truly some 
 hinted that he was a secret partner in one of these, where 
 many British officers, even young lads under twenty, were 
 robbed of all that they had. Bessie being left much to her- 
 self, and being also one of those who are unable to sustain 
 their own society, came frequently to visit us, and Judith 
 took her into our home life. I think she hoped to show 
 her some better way of living than any she had known. 
 She had Bessie bring her sewing and knitting, and work 
 with us, and she kept on with our readings and improving 
 conversations, also with our daily Scripture readings. 
 Bessie listened, and took part with that readiness with 
 which she lends herself to whatever is passing. 
 
 Bessie invited herself to stay a night with me, and took 
 occasion to tell me of her life in New York, and all the 
 attentions she had had there. She still came back to 
 Captain Banks, and said he was expecting to be made 
 major, and she said she liked him vastly, and had about 
 made up her mind to marry him. 
 
 "What, has he asked you?" I said. 
 
 "Xo, but he will," said Bessie. "I expect his proposals 
 any day." 
 
 "And what will your father say?" I asked. 
 
 "To do as I please, if I can not do any better," said 
 she, laughing. 
 
 "Oh, Bessie," I remonstrated, "you promised to marry 
 
260 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Mr. Bovvdoin, and he truly loves you. He did not pass 
 months in your company with you ^expecting liis propo- 
 sals any day/ and he not making them; that seems shame- 
 ful to me. Do, Bessie, give up this Captain Banks, and 
 write Mr. Bowdoin. He would be glad to marry you and 
 go home to Plymouth ; and think what an innocent and 
 safe life you might live in that dear old place." 
 
 " Dear old place, indeed ! " cried Bessie. " I promised 
 to marry him just for fun, and really I did like him when 
 I w-as with him ; he is very good looking. But what ! do 
 you thing I can tie myself up on a farm, a preacher's wife, 
 w'earing my good gown but twice or thrice a year, spin- 
 ning, weaving, knitting, going to church twice of a Sunday, 
 keeping fast days, visiting old women, and coddling all 
 the babies in the congregation ? Not I ! Captain Banks 
 may be colonel or general yet ! " 
 
 Then Bessie turned off to our affairs. 
 
 "Judith," she said, " was doing well for herself." She 
 had heard that Mr. Seaforth was rich as a Jew. And, of 
 all things, Susannah's luckw^as most marvelous. Susannah 
 w-as pretty, but made no show; went nowhere; dressed 
 like a child; Mas prim as a Quaker, and gave no encour- 
 agement to Colonel Nelson — and all the world said he 
 was wild about her. Colonel Nelson was heir of an es- 
 tate and a title — what was Susannah thinking of that she 
 did not jump at such a chance? And she had heard that 
 Colonel Nelson had given up wine, and did not even 
 drink a health, because he had heard Susannah express 
 an opinion a^'ainst such things. 
 
 I find Bessie changed for the worse, and I cried about 
 
ONE H USD RED YEARS AGO. 
 
 261 
 
 Wliiii, has ho asked vuu ? " I said. "Ko, but he will," said Bessie. 
 
262 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 it after she had finally fallen asleep. Then a bright 
 thought came to me. Mistress Seaforth is rich, an Eng- 
 lish Avoman, a perfect lady, a Royalist — all these things 
 would give her influence with Bessie and Mr. "NVarley. I 
 would introduce Bessie to her — she had already expressed 
 kind pity for her — and perhaps this dear lady would take 
 a mother's place, and guide the poor girl right. So next 
 day I took Bessie to our dear friend; and not only did 
 that best of ladies understand my motive at once, but she 
 took kindly to Bessie, and Bessie was charmed with her, 
 and Mr. AVarley was much delighted with the acquaint- 
 ance; and so I hope poor Bessie has now a guide and a 
 friend who will help her keep out of danger and wrong- 
 doing. 
 
 As for our city of Philadelphia, provisions are dear and 
 fuel scarce; but of this we do not complain, for it is ow- 
 ing to the close investment of the city by our dear general, 
 and we can think that every load of provisions that fails to 
 reach us goes to his brave and suffering army. I daresay 
 we are almost the only family of means living without 
 officers and soldiers quartered upon us. I suspect dear 
 Mr. Seaforth purchased our exemption and his own at a 
 great price. -Then, we doubtless owe much to the influ- 
 ence of Captain Seaforth and Colonel Nelson. I was about 
 to write that these two are the only decent officers in town, 
 but that would be a foul injustice; there are a number 
 of educated gentlemen among them. There are also ras- 
 cals of the deepest dye. These invaders live in the best 
 houses and are served with the best, without offering com- 
 pensation. Our quiet city is outraged by the grossest 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 263 
 
 vices of a camp. Gaming, theaters, dances are the order 
 of the day, and drinking in shameless excess is a common 
 occurrence. 
 
 Colonel Nelson has introduced to us some very pleasant 
 guests; among others 
 Captain Andre, a gen- 
 tlemanly and amiable 
 young man though over 
 fond of gay life. He 
 has painted the scenes 
 and curtains for the the- 
 aters of the officers ; in- 
 deed he can act, dance, 
 sing, read well, paint, 
 keep a party merry — in 
 fact, do any thing that he chooses; and withal, Colonel 
 Nelson says that he can fight like a hero. 
 
 One of the disappointments that I have felt this win- 
 ter was from the conduct of Mr. Duche. He is such an 
 agreeable man, and I thought him both saint and Patriot ; 
 and now he has gone over to the other side ! I would 
 not mind if he had been there always, for conscience' sake; 
 but this cowardly turning I do hate — it is hypocrisy ; at 
 least I thought so, and said as much to Mr. Seaforth. He 
 told me I judged harshly: "People, on mature reflection, 
 might see cause to change their minds — cause in sound 
 reason." 
 
 "But," said I "'tis a suspicious turning that moves ever 
 to the winning side. When patriotism was first in power 
 Mr. Duche was a Patriot." 
 
264 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 "Well, my child," said Mr. Seaforth, "Mr. Duche is a 
 good man, and honest, though perhaps he is not firm. 
 When he was a Patriot he was really a Patriot ; and now 
 that he is a Royalist he is really a Royalist. You know 
 the vane, when it points east, points there firmly ; and 
 when it points west, it is clearly west. True, it got there 
 by the wind, and it will change with the wind ; but that 
 is the nature of a weathercock. Mr. Duche feels now that 
 all indications are that God is favoring the Royal cause, 
 and that the best interests of America lie in rescinding 
 the Declaration of Independence and submitting to His 
 Majesty. And he has written an ardent letter to Mr. 
 Washington to that effect." 
 
 " General Washington will not heed him," I cried, 
 warmly. 
 
 "No, my child, I do not think that he will. Firmness 
 of purpose is a distinguishing characteristic of that gen- 
 tleman. Perhaps it would be better for his country if he 
 were less resolute in face of all difficulties." 
 
 "I don't think so. I think Washington is just right 
 every way." 
 
 February 20, 1778. 
 
 On the night of the 30th of November my winter ad- 
 ventures began. Hester was at Mistress Seaforth's. Ju- 
 dith and Susannah had guests in the parlor. It was just 
 after dark that I went down stairs with a candle in my 
 hand, and going through the passage to the kitchen I 
 passed a closet under the stairs. The passage is narrow, 
 and as I paused to open the door some one reached out 
 of the closet, laid a hand over my mouth, ble\v out my 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 265 
 
 light and drew me into the closet all in a moment, or 
 rather second, and a voice said in my ear : 
 
 "Don't scream, I am Richard Reid ! " 
 
 The voice cUd sound familiar ; but there was I, so sin- 
 gularly dragged into the closet, and, trembling, yet silent, I 
 put up my hand to feel the intruder; and the height and 
 something in the face seemed like Mr. Reid, though the 
 garments felt odd ; and again he whispered, to reassure me : 
 
 "It is truly I, Abbey Temple. I slipped in here to es- 
 cape capture but now ; and indeed I will out again, for I 
 must not endanger your uncle's family by my hiding here." 
 
 I softly pushed shut the door. 
 
 "What are you in the city for?" 
 
 "General Washington must have information by one 
 who is capable of giving it and making it available. I 
 came here disguised to-day." 
 
 "As a spy?" I said, trembling more than ever. Oh, 
 Mr. Reid ! " . 
 
 " My country needed it," he said. I came as a farming 
 man, with produce, and meant to leave this evening, but 
 found myself suspected, followed. Pursuit changed my 
 motions to flight. I recognized the house and recalled 
 this rear passage door, and instinctively I took refuge here 
 to escape. Once in, I considered the danger I might bring 
 to your uncle, and was going out when you came by, and 
 impulse bade me make myself known." 
 
 "Mr. Reid," I said, "suppose you are caught?" 
 
 He replied, in an agitated voice : 
 
 " I am willing to die as a soldier, on the field — but then 
 I must hang as a spy." 
 
266 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 " I must save you ! " I cried — and a whole plan darted 
 into my mind like light. 
 
 " No, let me go out — I will try flight," he said. " I en- 
 danger your uncle." 
 
 "He shall not know it,^' I replied. "No one shall 
 know but me, and they can not harm me if they cliscover 
 me. They dare not kill a girl — and I have friends. 
 Only do as I tell you. Take off your shoes and carry 
 them. I shall go up stairs, and put out the hall light as 
 I pass. Do you then follow me swiftly to the second 
 story." 
 
 I ran up stairs, blew out the candles on the hall table, 
 and hurried up to my room. Mr. Reid was at my elbow 
 as I reached it. A candle was burning on the table. I 
 thrust him into a closet, took the candle and a bottle from 
 the table and ran on to the attic. Now we had there five 
 patients of prisoners. One (Williams) was a little worse 
 that day, but one was cured, and had an order to report 
 at the barracks. His name was Grey. He was a good 
 man, who would do any thing for me because I had sent 
 letters for him to his wife. I tarried a moment at the 
 attic door, listening. All the patients seemed asleep. The 
 bottle I had seized from my table happened to be rose- 
 water, but I resolved to give our sickest patient a dose of 
 it, by way of excuse, if any one of them aAvoke at my en- 
 trance. Grey's pallet was nearest the door, and as I dared 
 not speak I stepped to it, put my hand on his head and 
 pulled it a little. I had left my light in the hall. At 
 the second pull he lifted his head, and I said : 
 
 "Dress quickly and come into the hall." 
 
Oyi: HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 267 
 
 In a few minutes he stood by me in the entry, wearing 
 the complete new suit of fustian which Judith had had 
 prepared for him and had placed by his bedside. I whis- 
 pered : 
 
 " Mr. Grey, you are well. I want you to slip out of 
 the house as quickly as possible, and do the best you can 
 until morning. I will give you an overcoat of my 
 cousin's ; and perhaps yon can get into Mr. Seaforth's 
 Avoodshed — not in ours, for any thing. Don't be seen. I 
 have an American officer to save from death, and I shall 
 try and hide him in your bed," 
 
 He seemed to comprehend at once ; said it was all right, 
 he could do admirably until morning. So I got Charles's 
 old coat from the closet; he took his shoes in his hand, 
 and I hurried softly to open the street door. He must 
 have come down stairs by leaps, but silently, for as soon 
 as I had the door open he rushed by me into the dark- 
 ness. Back I ran to Richard Reid, in the closet, and led 
 him up to the attic and stood him by Grey's empty pallet. 
 So I bid him undress and get in quickly and quietly, and, 
 of all things, to put on Grey's night-cap, which I slipped 
 into his hand. Away then for Judith's keys and to her 
 closet for another suit of fustian; and by the time I took 
 it to the attic Richard Reid was in Grey's pallet. I said : 
 " Seem to sleep, whatever happens," and laid the fustian 
 on a chair, and carried oif what clothes he had left on the 
 floor, What to do with them and the shoes I hardly knew, 
 but then, running to my room, I stuffed them into the 
 straw tick which lay under my feather-bed, and, making 
 all smooth, I flew down to the kitchen. It had been the 
 
268 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 busiest twenty minutes or thereabout that I had ever spent. 
 As I expected, soon came a pounding at our kitchen door, 
 and Pompey opened it, trembling. A pair of British sol- 
 diers stood there, and one said, roughly : 
 
 "We want the strange man that ran in here but now!" 
 
 Then I stepped forward, sharp and bold : 
 
 " What are you talking about, sirrah ! A strange man ! 
 There is no strange man here, unless you mean Colonel 
 Nelson, sitting above in our parlor." 
 
 " He was seen to come in here," said the other man. 
 
 " Who — the Colonel ? Truly, he comes often ; and will 
 not thank you for your watching of his motions, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, miss, if you please," said the soldier, respectfully, 
 " we mean one suspected for a spy, who darted off the 
 street and must have got in here. I saw him myself, and 
 went for a comrade and an order to search — and — / have 
 both!" 
 
 Blessed be Nervey. Here she tore off her turban, frantic 
 with fright, and yelled: 
 
 " Robbers ! robbers in the house ! " 
 
 " If robbers are in, by these good men's help we will 
 soon get them out," I said, catching at that idea. Then to 
 the men, very stately : " You say you have orders, but I 
 do not know you, nor your orders. Will one of you stop 
 here, and the other come with me to speak to Colonel 
 Nelson, to question your orders or go through the house 
 with you, or will you both stop here until I go for him 
 myself? " 
 
 They said that one would go with me ; so, with my sol- 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 269 
 
 dier at my elbow, I went up and opened the parlor door. 
 Uncle sat by the center-table, reading; on one side of the 
 room Susannah was at the harpsichord, playing softly, 
 and beside her stood Colonel Nelson, with his violin, and 
 they were singing a song that he had taught her — 
 
 "Say, Myra, why is gentle love 
 A stranger to thy mind?" 
 
 On the other side of the room Judith sat on the sofa, and 
 Henry Seaforth, in a chair near her, was bending forward 
 to speak to her. Henry, with his fair, ruddy English 
 face and golden hair, is such a contrast to Judith's dark; 
 splendid beauty. The music and the earnest talk going 
 on in the parlor had prevented their hearing my various 
 maneuvers. As I opened the door I spoke out clearly to 
 the Colonel : 
 
 " Colonel Nelson, here is a soldier M^ho says he has 
 authority to search our house for a sj^y, whom he says ran 
 in here." 
 
 All sprang to their feet. Colonel Nelson came forward 
 and questioned the man sharply, at first declaring him 
 drunk, then giving him more credit. Then I spoke out 
 with tart scorn : 
 
 " I suppose it never entered your head that your spy 
 could get over the back fence more easily than rush 
 through a locked door!" 
 
 At these Avords my uncle gave me a keen look; sud- 
 denly he grew a little paler, and then, turning to the 
 hearth, stirred the fire, as if he had no further interest in 
 the matter. 
 
270 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " There is no spy in this house," cried Colonel Nelson, 
 angrily, seeing Susannah lokiong frightened. 
 
 " Pray, let him see for himself," I cried. "Why should 
 we be suspected? Pray, Colonel, come with this man and 
 I will show you all over the house ; only, I must ask you 
 to come to the attic, and not let him blunder there with 
 his noise, for we have a very sick man there to-night, 
 and he might be made worse by a fright." 
 
 Judith, looking surprised at my unusual manners, said, 
 " I had better go over the house with the Colonel." 
 
 I managed, unobserved, to squeeze her hand, and said : 
 " 'No, you have company. I am disengaged ; so come. 
 Colonel, we will be through with this business at once." 
 
 The Colonel took a candle, I led the Avay beside him, 
 and the soldier, with a pistol cocked in his hand, came 
 behind. I was very particular, and insisted on a com- 
 plete search, saying, " Suppose some one did come in ? 
 sujj^iose there is a robber in the house?" So we searched 
 every place below and above, until the attic was reached. 
 Then I said softly, " Now, Colonel, for our sick man. I 
 will hold the light, and you just count the heads; you 
 were here yesterday, and know that we have five. You 
 must send us another when Grey's bed is empty, to-mor- 
 row." I held the candle with elaborate good will, but 
 managed to cast Grey's night-capped head somewhat into 
 the shadow. " All right," said the Colonel. " Poor fel- 
 lows ; this is war ; you have been angels of mercy in this 
 house to sick and wounded, and have saved lives, while 
 mv bitter trade is to sacrifice them." Then, ffoing down 
 stairs, he said to the soldier, " If a spy or any other did 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 271 
 
 enter this yard, you see lie has escaped by the rear fence, as 
 Miss Temple suggested." I went to the kitchen and dis- 
 missed the soldiers, with a fair ration of bread and con- 
 serves, to sweeten their dispositions and dissipate suspicion. 
 Then I ran to my room and wrote this note to Judith : 
 "Trust me. When I ask for leave to go to Mistress Lo- 
 gan's, support me ; and say I must take her a cook for her 
 dinner." I sealed this properly, and walking into the 
 parlor, as if the note had just come in at the door, I tossed 
 it to Judith, saying, "Another invitation?" 
 
 Kow, I do not often talk to Colonel Xelson ; but he is 
 very courteous to me, as to all Susannah's relations ; so 
 he met my kindness readily when I sat near him, and 
 began chatting freely. Finally, after properly leading the 
 way, I said : " Colonel, I do wish you could get me leave 
 to go out of the city to-morrow to Mistress Logan's; I 
 have wanted to see her this long wdiile." "Aye, do. Colo- 
 nel," cried Judith ; "I can send Abbey in company there; 
 for Mistress Logan must have a cook for her dinner 
 party." "Are you going to the dinner. Colonel?" I said; 
 " perhaps my cousin will give me leave to stay until it is 
 over ; being from the country, I never have seen such fine 
 doings. See that I get leave to go. Colonel." 
 
 "And take the cook along, Abbey," cried Judith. 
 
 " By all means the cook, a black woman that can do 
 culinary w^onders ; you are interested in that, Colonel. 
 If the cook does not get there you may have no dinner 
 fit to eat on Thursday," said T. 
 
 " If you must go. Abbey," said Henry Seaforth, " I 
 
 will ride out with vou." 
 18 
 
272 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " Xo indeed," I said, "all the sport is in riding alone." 
 
 " I wanted you to go with me to-morrow. Abbey can 
 go with the black," said Judith, who supported me won- 
 drous well. Then Colonel Nelson took up the theme, 
 and vowed he would ride out to the Logan House with 
 me. I protested ; but go he would. 
 
 " There is no danger," I said, " and I shall start before 
 you are up. Only send me by seven o'clock a pass out 
 of the city to go so far." 
 
 Still he persisted ; he would gladly rise at five. 
 
 " You force me to be rude," I said, laughing. " I am 
 a hot ' rebel/ and I want to boast Avhen the war is over 
 that I never went any whither with a British officer." 
 
 He looked vexed, and said softly to Susannah, " I trust 
 you do not take such a position as your cousin." 
 
 " I was paying little attention to her nonsense," said 
 Susannah, blushing. That blush so enraptured the Colo- 
 nel, that he forgave me my impudence, withdrew his 
 offer of escort, and promised me the pass I asked, which 
 he would send by seven in the morning. He even 
 brought his visit to an early close, that he might attend 
 to this, and Henry Seaforth went with him. Susannah 
 at once went up stairs. My uncle turned to me : "Abbey, 
 have you heard any thing of your Cousin Charles?" he 
 asked in a low voice. 
 
 I looked boldly at him, saying, " No, uncle, not a 
 word." " I thought — I feared you had," he said, and pres- 
 ently he took his candle and went to his room. Judith 
 and I locked up the house in silence. I saw that I must 
 take Judith into my secret. We went up stairs and I 
 
OXE HUXDRED YEARS AGO. 273 
 
 pulled her into my room ; then I said : " Judith, I have 
 sent Grey off, and Richard Held is up in the attic in 
 Grey's bed, and if he is not got out of the town to-mor- 
 row, he will be caught and hanged as a spy. There is 
 but one chance for him. I must get him to Mistress Lo- 
 gan's as a black cook, and he must get from there to 
 AVhite Marsh." So then, Judith and I planned for our 
 "spy's" escape. Early in the morning Judith would 
 darken the attic window, making it so dim that the pa- 
 tients would not discern the change of Grey for Richard 
 Reid. She would send Pompey to the warehouse with my 
 uncle ; set the chambermaid to watch by our sick AYil- 
 liams, and dispatch Nervey to call for Hester, and go in 
 her company to market. INIeanwhile she would have the 
 roan which I ride saddled, and a pillion put on for riding 
 double, and .we would dress Richard like a black cook^ 
 and so we would get him out of town, riding behind me. 
 " If," I said, " the great long creature can manage to 
 double himself up, and sit like a frightened old black 
 woman ! " 
 
 Well, in the morning we carried this out. Judith and 
 I had mixed oil and burnt cork, and therewith Judith 
 fairly soaked Richard's head, and neck, and hands, and 
 his light, close-curled hair. Then we p^ut iron-bowed 
 spectacles on him, and a big turban close over his fore- 
 head, and a huge bonnet on that. Then he got on a 
 gown and splay shoes, and I humped his shoulders a bit, 
 and put a big netted scarf at his neck, and mittens on him, 
 and a grand check apron, and a shawl ; also, I prepared 
 him a bundle to hold in his lap, and I said : 
 
274 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 "Now, Richard, all — your life and my safety — depends 
 on your sitting perched on that pillion as awkwardly, like 
 an old negress, as you can. Draw yourself up — " 
 
 " Never fear," says Richard, groaning, " I can but be 
 awkward, sitting on a pillion in this homespun gown." 
 
 "And hold your bundle close, and hold fast to me." 
 
 "Never fear," said Richard, so cordially that we all 
 laughed. 
 
 Then I dressed myself in goodly fashion, to overawe all 
 impertinent gazers at me and my servant-woman. And, 
 lastly, I took a good pistol, left us by our Hessian when 
 he went, and I handed it to Richard, saying : 
 
 " Hide that in your bosom. "When there is nothing else 
 to be done, fight ! " 
 
 Thereupon Judith had us down stairs, it being eight 
 o'clock and the coast clear, and I mounted my horse by 
 her help; and by her help also — for the benefit of all 
 neighbors who might be peeping — Richard Reid lumbered 
 upon his pillion in awkward style, and crouched, cling- 
 ing to me and to his bundle ; and Judith said : "All 
 right — good morning " — which meant a great deal just 
 then. And so I rode forth out of the side yard, and went 
 up the street as briskly as I dared. I said : 
 
 " Mr. Reid, are you like to hold your seat ? " 
 
 "Aye," he said ; " but I feel awkward- enough, trussed 
 up sideways in this fashion." 
 
 "All the better," I said. " Hold your head down a bit. 
 I will go as fast as I can without exciting suspicion." 
 
 So on I went. And I showed my permit to three sol- 
 diers ; but it was early and cold, and they were sleepy. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 275 
 
 SO they took little heed of my " cook ; " and when I was 
 out of sight of soldiers I rattled on at a brave pace. 
 Thus by half-past nine I got to the gate of the Logan 
 House, and I sent to ask Mistress Logan to come out 
 to me. She came, with a shawl over her head, to the 
 gate, and I said : 
 
 " My Cousin Judith sends you a servant, if it may 
 chance suit you." 
 
 Thereupon Mistress Logan boxed the ears of a boy 
 who stood listening, and bid him go feed the fowls. 
 Then I added, softly: 
 
 " Mistress Logan, 'tis life or death." 
 
 So she bid us alight, and said loudly to me, that truly 
 she was glad to see me, and was much obliged to Miss 
 Judith Temple ; and saying sharply to my cook : " Come 
 in, Dinah," she bid a servant take away the horse, and 
 had us in by the front door and up to her own room, 
 where I told her my story. She looked at my Dinah, 
 laughing. " 'Tis well done," she said ; and said also that 
 until night this Dinah must sit in a small anteroom, as if 
 sewing. So there we put Richard; and I taught him how 
 to hold a needle, and gave him a sheet to be hemmed ; 
 and betimes Mistress Logan and I took a few stitches for 
 him, in event of any of the family taking notice of the 
 work ; and Mistress Logan said in her kitchen that Miss 
 Judith Temple had made a mistake in sending out a black 
 who could neither sew swiftly nor make a marmalade, and 
 who must go back to the city that evening. 
 
 After dark we took the Dinah out to the e:ate and dis- 
 missed her, and then coming in Mith secrecv. Mistress 
 
276 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Logan took Richard to the cellar, to the entrance of the 
 famous " subterranean passage," and put him in there, 
 where she had stored food, lights, soap, water, and 
 clothes. There he remained until the next evening — the 
 evening of December 2d. Then Mistress Logan and I 
 went down to the subterranean passage to dismiss Richard 
 to go to White Marsh. He was now properly dressed. 
 He thanked Mistress Logan, and kissed her hand; he 
 then took my hand, but I slipped it away as fast as pos- 
 sible and put it behind me. He looked curiously at me, 
 then said : 
 
 "I put my life in your hands, and you have saved me. 
 Will you add yet to your goodness by giving me one lit- 
 tle lock of hair — a memento of the wit and bravery that 
 preserved me from a disgraceful death?" 
 
 Now when I gave Thomas Otis a lock of my hair he 
 said he would never carry any other, and I said I would 
 never give a lock to any one else ; besides, to me it would 
 seem like a coquette to give a lock of hair to two folks, 
 so I drew back, saying, with more than needful earnest- 
 ness : 
 
 " No, no — I could not think of such a thing." 
 
 Mr. Reid looked hurt and turned away. Presently he 
 renewed his thanks. I begged him to feel no obligation ; 
 I would have done as much for any man in the Patriot 
 army — and the strange creature liked this saying even less 
 than the other. 
 
 " Come," quoth Mistress Logan, " let there be an end 
 of compliments." 
 
 So she led the way with a taper, and Richard and I 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 Til 
 
 followed her through the long, dark underground way, 
 that was like a tomb. At last we made a turn ; the low 
 roof of the passage dripped moisture, and a chill breath 
 of night air swept along it, and there on a bowlder, in the 
 light of Mistress 
 Logan's taper, sat 
 an Indian, motion- 
 less as a statue. I 
 stopped and held 
 my breath at sight 
 of the grim face. 
 Mistress Logan 
 stepped on one 
 side. The Indian 
 rose, saying : 
 
 " Follow me — 
 to Washington.'' 
 Richard Reid hesi- 
 tated. The Indian 
 pushed his toma- 
 hawk in his belt, 
 gathered closer his 
 powder-horn and 
 musket, and repeated : " Let a white man trust Logan, 
 the M'hite man's friend. Follow Logan to Washington." 
 
 All in a moment the two were gone, and Mistress Logan 
 and I stood alone in the passage by the little light of our 
 taper, and far off I thought I saw shining through some 
 opening a single star. 
 
 TA-CA-JUTK LOGAN, THE WHITE IMAN'.S FKIEND. 
 
278 PATRIOT ASD TOBY 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 February 27, 1778. 
 Y last entry in this diary was made at various times, 
 and I now continue the account of my adventures. 
 
 Cousin Judith had promised that Captain Seaforth 
 would ride out to Mistress Logan's, and bring me home 
 ♦ on the 3d. But on that day no Henry appeared, and I 
 made myself contented with our good friend, with whom 
 my previous acquaintance had been slight; she had been 
 a great friend of my Uncle John's wife. 
 
 Logan House is one of the finest houses that I have ever 
 been in. The walls and walks are of bricks, brought from 
 England by the confidential secretary of William Penu. 
 Around two of the fire-places are blue and white tiles, 
 with Scripture pictures upon them ; and the other fire- 
 places have plain white tiles. These all came from Hol- 
 land. The furniture is solid oak and mahogany, and, with 
 the carpets, was all brought from the mother country. 
 The rooms are mostly wainscoted to the ceiling, and 
 these shining oaken panels came from over seas. The 
 linen, china, and silver are also very splendid ; and I had 
 opportunity to see all, as Mistress Logan was preparing 
 for her dinner-party on the 4th. I made sure I would 
 be sent for on that morning, but no one came. Mistress 
 Loffan said to me : 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 279 
 
 "Be content; there is sure to be some good in it. I 
 have learned to take each day as it comes, and make the 
 best of it." 
 
 " But my uncle does not favor our having to do with any 
 gayeties in these sad times," I replied, in a flutter. 
 
 " If he leaves you here you must e'en see and take part 
 — and may get some good to yourself and others," said 
 she. "Wine -loosens some people's tongues wondrously." 
 
 Well, as no one came to fetch me, and the hour for the 
 dinner drew nigh. Mistress Logan sent her maid to dress 
 me in some of Miss Logan's clothes ; and I submitted to 
 be arrayed as she ordered. Accordingly she rolled my 
 hair in a fine tower, and made two long curls behind, so 
 that I burst out laughing, and repeated to Mistress Logan 
 the Avords of Mr. Pope : 
 
 " This nymph, for the destruction of mankind, 
 Cherished two locks, which, graceful, fell behind." 
 
 The maid then put upon me a petticoat of peach-colored 
 satin, and a trained gown of pearl-colored brocade cut 
 square at the neck, and thereunder a tucker of white 
 lace. My sleeves were close to the elbow, and there 
 fell open, with a filling of white lace. I had on long 
 embroidered gloves, a bouquet at my belt, high-heeled 
 slippers, and clock stockings. I had never been so 
 fine in my life, and I M'ondered how my uncle would 
 stare to see me. Mistress Logan gave me a French fan of 
 much size and beauty, and she said to me : 
 
 "There is nothing equal to a fan for concealing embar- 
 rassment, hiding a thought, or covering a design. You 
 can distract all a gentleman's attention to the motions of 
 
280 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 your fan while you may be laying a plan to make use 
 of liis apparently idle observations. Regard this dinner- 
 party as a part of the history of the country. There 
 have been less patriotic deeds than Mistress Logan's 
 dinners.^' 
 
 Now I saw that there was much meaning in her speech, 
 and I set myself to ponder it. Presently I said : 
 
 "Mistress Logan, the maid while she dressed me enter- 
 tained me with a long tale of how this house is haunted, 
 and she says none of the servants dare go about it at 
 night alone." 
 
 " 'T is an idea I cultivate," says she, clasping her brace- 
 lets ; and, rising her voice as a servant passed : " 't is cer- 
 tainly haunted," then lower, to me: "^Tis needful for 
 a house to be haunted when there is a secret passage 
 therein ; " and, taking a key from her escritoire, she hung 
 it by her dressing-table, remarking: "Abbey, 'tis tlie key 
 of the door we went in at the other evening — could you 
 find it alone, do you think ? " 
 
 " Both key and door," I replied, promptly. 
 
 "I do not mind telling you how the place is haunted — 
 you saw the spirit last night: Ta-ga-jute Logan, son of 
 Shikellimus. He is there when news is to be carried." 
 
 I looked from the window to the hill-side under which 
 is the vault where the Logan dead are laid, and where 
 Shikellimus, the Cayuga chief, is buried, and understood 
 why the servants think he haunts the ground. 
 
 The guests began to arrive, in fidl luiiform: huge 
 Avigs, powder, jewels, stars, ribbons — a grand assemblage; 
 among them Colonel Nelson, who was most attentive to 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 281 
 
 me, and said casually that all the family were well, and 
 that Cousin Judith hoped I was enjoying myself. He 
 asked also if the cook was satisfactory, and I replied that 
 he must judge of that by the dinner. 
 
 Indeed it was a magnificent dinner, and most heartily 
 eaten ; and then wines and other liquors were brought on, 
 and a health — "The Philadelphia Ladies" — was drunk 
 all around, though Colonel Nelson and I only put our 
 glasses to our lips. Then Mistress Logan was handed to 
 the door by General Knyphausen, and we ladies followed 
 her. When at last a number of the gentlemen joined us 
 it was evident that they had taken a deal of wine, for 
 they were flushed, and talked loudly. Colonel Nelson 
 had come to the drawing-room soon after us ladies, and 
 frequently looked at his watch, saying they must be in 
 the city early. He also went back to the dining-room, I 
 dare say to urge his friends to limit their potations. One 
 light-brained Captain, placing himself in a M'ide window- 
 seat by Miss Logan, vowed that he would be merry while 
 he mio-ht; 'twas bad enouo-h to s-o out and be killed when 
 the time came. Then catching sight of Colonel Nelson, 
 he swore that the Colonel was in such a hurry for them 
 to jro out and catch Washino;ton that he could scarce eat 
 his dinner; and again, would bet a ring to a bracelet that 
 before noon next day the rebels at White Marsh would 
 be done for. Colonel Nelson caught some of these 
 maudlin speeches, and the manner in which he took 
 them to heart and managed to check them, told to Mis- 
 tress Logan and me, who Avere alert for revelations, that 
 attack on our army was intended. We looked swiftly at 
 
282 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 each other, but gave no sign. In a few moments Mis- 
 tress Logan sailed by nie as I was talking, so glibly as I 
 might, with the Colonel and another, and said she : 
 
 "Abbey, -would you believe that I left the key to the 
 silver closet hanging by my dressing table?" 
 
 " Eh," said I, " what a fearful piece of carelessness, 
 with so many strange servants about the house " — and I 
 flirted my fan and looked indifferent. So she spoke a 
 compliment or two to this one or that one, and lent her 
 fan to General Knyphausen to hold, and showed her 
 bracelet to Colonel Nelson, and said carelessly to me : 
 
 " Do, child, go and look about that key. Suppose my 
 spoons should be stolen ! " 
 
 " Get these officers to remember you when next they 
 take up a collection in the Jerseys," said I, boldly ; 
 whereat all laughed but Colonel Nelson, who looked 
 mortified. 
 
 "Do go, child," urged Mistress Logan. 
 
 "Hold my fan and my kerchief, Colonel," said I, put- 
 ting on Bessie as well as I knew how, 'Svhile I go look 
 after the spoons." 
 
 So off I went, throwing a jest here and there as I 
 passed, 'and sailed along until I reached the stair-top, 
 when I darted for the key, tossed my train over my arm 
 and ran down the back way. I seized a second to spring 
 into a closet, where a hidden door led to a small cellar, 
 and going down thither I felt for the door of the pas- 
 sage, and turned the key in the lock. When I had drawn 
 shut the door after me I found myself all in the dark, 
 but I concluded to venture on, as the passage had no 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 283 
 
 ways leading into it, and -svlien I ran a few steps I came 
 
 to a little lamp burning on a ledge of rock. I took the 
 
 lamp and sped along, made the turn and came, as the day 
 
 before, upon an Indian seated, with his rifle leaning 
 
 against his knee. Nei- 
 
 ther his eyes nor his 
 
 body moved as I came 
 
 up. Truly T do not 
 
 marvel that those who 
 
 have seen this one 
 
 stalking around the 
 
 grounds or sitting in 
 
 a shadow, have called 
 
 this place haunted. 
 
 "How long does it 
 take you to go toWash- 
 ington?" I asked. 
 
 He opened and shut 
 his mouth once or 
 twice, Avithout a sound. 
 I saw that few words 
 were best words, so I "^ --} 
 
 said : "Subterranean Passage under the Logan House." 
 
 "Go quickly. Tell tlie Americans that they will be 
 attacked to-night. Let there be wings to your feet ! " 
 
 The Indian slowly rose up, replying: 
 
 "But one hour to sunset; this night is near; Logan's 
 news is late." 
 
 "Too late?" I cried, in anguish at the thought. 
 
 The Indian looked back encouragingly. 
 
2S4 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 "Logan is not the only news-bearer. Washington is a 
 chief of many eyes." 
 
 He vanished in the darkness and I turned to hurry 
 back. I had ruined my slippers in tlje damp passage, 
 but I took some others from Mistress Logan's dressino-- 
 room and hastened down to the parlor. The yard was 
 full of horses and servants; our guests were departing. 
 In a great bustle they hurried away, and — the officers did 
 not ride toward Philadelphia, but to Germantown. Later 
 in the evening we heard the hollow, rushing sound that 
 once would have seemed to me the rolling of waves on 
 Plymouth coast, but now is known as the tramp of march- 
 ing battalions. 
 
 The 5th, the 6th and the 7th of December passed, and 
 no news from the city, no one coming for me. On the 
 night of the 6th General Howe marched back on German- 
 town, as we found from a servant stationed there to gather 
 news. On the 7th he returned upon the Americans. All 
 this argued well for our side, who must have been fore- 
 warned and holding their own. On the 8th, about three 
 o'clock, we had news that General Howe was returning. 
 We went to the attic and looked out through the trap-door 
 on the roof, and sure enough, before dark we saw detached 
 companies, and then whole regiments, marching toward 
 Philadelphia. Whatever else they had done, they had not 
 carried General AYashington captive. Presently we saw a 
 squad of ten men leave the road and come toward the 
 Logan Plouse. ISIistress Logan rushed down stairs, sent 
 her boy to bid them in for a hot supper, and having had 
 them conducted to a room in the long; Hue of offices 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 285 
 
 stretching behind the house, where was burning the laun- 
 dry fire, she set the servants to carrying in huge platters 
 of bread, beef and cheese, and herself made a kettle of 
 punch — luckily more hot than strong. She graciously dis- 
 pensed this herself, and between her welcome and her 
 questions she got information that General Howe had ac- 
 complished nothing ; the Americans had been prepared at 
 every point, and, having been twice baffled, Howe was re- 
 turning, with loss of over one hundred men. 
 
 On the 9th I was restless, and desired Mistress Logan 
 to send me to town, but she refused. On the 10th I res- 
 olutely spun and read all day until three o'clock, when 
 chancing to look out of the window, I saw Pompey riding 
 up to the gate. I flew to speak with him. He handed me 
 a letter and a large parcel, and said he must ride home 
 quickly, before dark. 
 
 "But can I not go with you, Pompey?" I cried. 
 
 "Missey Judith remarked you was goin' to lib here a 
 while," replied Pompey, gathering up his reins. Then he 
 added: "Good-bye, Miss Abbey, ef I nebber see you no 
 more. So many sogers lyin' roun', Pomp mos' likely neb- 
 ber git home libe." 
 
 AYhen Pompey had hastened away I opened Judith's 
 note. She merely said that she was glad that I was en- 
 joying myself, and that she had sent me some clothes. I 
 could not tell what she meant; but Mistress Logan as- 
 sured me that doubtless she intended much more than she 
 said, as I would one day discover. Wise people put 
 little in letters that may be read at the head of an enemy's 
 brigade. 
 
286 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 There was no reason why I should not enjoy myself at 
 Mistress Logan's. She was very kind, and I read and 
 sewed, and we often had officers oome out from the city 
 to call upon us. On Christmas Day we dressed the 
 house in green, and put a big Yule-log in the fire-place, 
 and Mistress Logan had a little pig roasted, with a lemon 
 in his mouth, lying on a bed of parsley, and a wreath of 
 
 " Bringing in the Yule-log at Logan House." 
 
 holly on his head. Captain Andre rode out from town 
 with Captain Banks and ate dinner with us. We heard, 
 incidentally^ that General Washington had removed all his 
 army from White Marsh on the 12th, and that on the 19th 
 he had reached Valley Forge : and Indian Logan told 
 Mistress Logan that the General had built log cabins and 
 made a town in the woods, but that the soldiers were very 
 poor, " worse oiF than Indians " This news of the sufFer- 
 iugs of our Patriots filled me with grief. I could scarcely 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AOO. 287 
 
 bear to be warm and well fed while I knew that our sol- 
 diers were shivering and hungry. * 
 
 I was becoming quite homesick and greatly uneasy con- 
 cerning my uncle's family, when, about three o'clock on the 
 31st, I chanced to look out of the gate, and saw there my 
 Uncle John and Captain Seaforth, just dismounting. Harry 
 only remained a few minutes; then he shook hands with 
 uncle and wished him a safe return, and so galloped down 
 the road. AVhen he was gone uncle turned to me, saying: 
 "Abbey, we are going to Valley Forge to see Charles." 
 Now I must say that on the morning when I carried 
 Mr. Reid out of Philadelphia in the guise of a black cook 
 we had had him early in a little room up stairs, where 
 Judith and I had served him a notable breakfast, and as 
 he ate he told us a terrible tale of the suiferin<i;s of our 
 army, destitute of stores and shelter for winter, of their 
 bare feet and nearly naked bodies ; of their hunger, cold 
 and sickness ; of the lack even of straw to keep their 
 tired bodies from the wet winter earth ; of their heroic 
 patience, courage and faith ; and as he told us, Judith and 
 I wept for sympathy. But when I was fairly gone, and 
 the second day had passed, and the inquiry for the sup- 
 posed "spy'' had ceased, Judith told Uncle John the story, 
 and of the miseries of Charles's men, and maybe Charles 
 himself suifered. So my uncle resolved to go to the camp 
 on a visit, and communicated his desire to get out of the city 
 to Mr. Seaforth, and he told him, under pledge of secresy, 
 of the attack to be made by Howe, and that he must not 
 think of leaving until the event of that was known. 
 
 After that he waited until news of encampment came.. 
 19 
 
288 -P-4 272/02' AND TOR Y: 
 
 As my uncle did' not like to implicate Mr. Seaforth too 
 deeply in our troubles, the family concluded that Susan- 
 nah should ask Colonel Nelson to get her father and me 
 a pass through the lines to visit his son. It went hard 
 with both my uncle and Susannah to ask the favor, but. 
 for Charles's sake it was done, and getting his pass by 
 noon on the 31st of December, he was thus far on his way. 
 After my uncle had finished his story I, yet pondering 
 why I was to go with him, said suddenly, 
 
 "Uncle, how stout you have grown in these few days 
 by past ! " 
 
 "Stout!" cried he, " Prithee, Mistress Logan, lend me 
 a room, where I may dress myself anew, for I have on at 
 this moment no less than four flannel shirts and two waist- 
 coats of duffel 'gray, and I am like to choke." 
 
 " Truly they will keep some poor Patriots warm this 
 winter," said Mistress Logan, bidding a servant have my 
 uncle to a bed-chamber. When he had gone she said to 
 me : 
 
 " Your uncle carries under his saddle a marvelous good 
 horse-blanket, which he will doubtless leave at camp. So 
 shall you have a blanket to carry; and as it is cold 
 weather one can dress warmly, and I doubt not I can dis- 
 pose of some flannels on you that will not come amiss at 
 Valley Forge." 
 
 After supper my uncle said : 
 
 " Mistress Logan, after I am out of British lines I shall 
 ride around to my farm and get a horse and load it with 
 clothes, bacon and blankets that I have in hiding under 
 my barn; and Abbey and I will fill our saddle-bags with 
 
OXE IIUXDRED YEARS AGO. 289 
 
 things for the hospital; but, 'money answereth all things,' 
 is a word of truth, and if you can hide upon Abbey some 
 three hundred Spanish dollars of that I intrusted to you 
 last summer, it will be well." 
 
 " No doubt it can be quilted into a petticoat," said she. 
 
 So Mistress Logan bid me come with a candle, and we 
 two went to the subterranean passage again, and she, 
 picking a brick from the wall, revealed a place where 
 money was hidden. 
 
 "This is your uncle's," said she; "safe from fire or 
 thief;" and she counted out the hard, bright dollars, and 
 we took them, tied in her apron, to her room. Then we 
 said good-night below and shut her room, and Mistress 
 Logan ripped up most part of a petticoat of blue damask, 
 and, stretching it on a frame, she and I, with busy fingers, 
 (juilted the money into it, and it was a weighty petticoat 
 indeed. However, I was to ride, and my roan could 
 carry me and my rich garment. So I perceived that I 
 was to go with my uncle as his unsuspected money-purse ! 
 
 ISText day, before light, we had our breakfast, and the 
 horses were brought round in good order, and a blanket 
 was put on mine under the saddle, and warmly wrapped 
 as when I went to Trenton, I rode off with my uncle, and 
 after we were out of the British lines with General Howe's 
 pass, we directed our steps to ray uncle's farm below 
 Swede's Ford. When w© got out of the British lines my 
 uncle provided himself with a permanent pass from Gen- 
 eral Washington, which he ripped out of the cuff of his 
 coat. We went along at our best speed and did not delay, 
 except once to water the beasts, uutiJL wc i:eached my 
 
290 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 uncle's flirin. This farm is rented to a man of scrupulous 
 honesty and singular selfishness. He is so honest that he 
 would die before he touched or betrayed the store that 
 my uncle hath hidden under the great barn ; yet he is so 
 selfish that he cares for neither party in this war, merely 
 to save what he hath and owe nothing to either side ; the 
 consequence is that he is fleeced by all. We found him in 
 great turmoil of spirit because General Washington hath 
 been forced to levy a contribution on the vicinage, and 
 the foragers had carried from him a pig, a load of hay, 
 and some bushels of corn. My uncle said to him, " Per- 
 haps they thought you were a Tory." 
 
 " But when the British last came by," said he, " they 
 drove oif from me a good plow horse, a fine young steer, 
 and burnt mv biggest straw stack in the field." 
 
 " Doubtless they thought you were a Whig," said my 
 uncle. 
 
 " I am neither Whig nor Tory. All I am anxious for 
 is to be my own man and save my own property. I don't 
 care whether Gcorc^e Third reigns or Washino-ton is Die- 
 
 t:^ o c7 
 
 tator. All I want is good crops and leave to sell them, 
 and keep the money." 
 
 " But there is a principle at stake ! " I cried. 
 
 " I don't care for principles, only for money," said he, 
 doggedly. 
 
 My uncle paid him for a load of straw and a beef, 
 which he was to bring to camp next day. My uncle 
 then had a horse loaded with clothing and l)lankets, and 
 what beans and bacon he could gather. He also filled 
 my saddle-bags and his own with various small stores for 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 291 
 
 the sick. Finally, he asked if there were any fowls, that 
 we might take Charles his Christmas dinner. The farmer 
 said every feathered thing had been carried oif save a 
 cock and a turkey gobbler, botli aged and wary, which 
 
 SUPPLIES FOK ARMY AT VALLEY FOKGE. 
 
 neither Whig or Tory had been able to catch. My uncle, 
 however, beguiled these veteran birds with corn and 
 caught them. Having killed them, he hung them across 
 our pack-horse, and we set forth again on our travels, my 
 uncle leading the laden horse, and what with his saddle- 
 bags and mine being roundly stuifed, and he having a 
 bundle of my clothes behind him, we looked like a pair 
 of peddlers. We came shortly to Swede's Ford and found 
 the ferryman in readiness, so without difficulty crossed 
 the Schuylkill. When the man found we were going 
 to the camp he would not take any pay for ferriage, and 
 
292 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 ENCAMPMENT AT VALLEY FORGE. 
 
 he shed tears of joy at thought of even a little help going 
 to the soldiers. He said if he had not been old and lame 
 he would be in the army himself. By the time ^xe reached 
 the " King of Prussia Tavern " we were very hungry, for 
 
 we had not stopped to eat at 
 the farm lest we might have 
 delays at the ferry and need 
 all our time. "We now tar- 
 ried to get a good dinner. 
 After dinner we hastened on 
 and soon came to the camp. 
 The genius of our General 
 has changed this piece of forest to a frontier town ; the huts 
 are made of logs, they are of size fourteen by sixteen feet ; 
 the roofs are split slabs ; the chimneys are clay-covered ; 
 the height of ^he walls are six and a half feet; the doors 
 are of slabs, some few boards ; the huts for the officers are 
 in a line in the rear of the troops. Our arrival was 
 greeted with some curiosity, but there was a general court- 
 esy and kindness shown in every face. A young sergeant 
 undertook to lead us to the hut where Charles lives with 
 a number of other officers. He told us that the General 
 had been living in a marquee, but that now the camp was 
 completed ho had moved his quarters to the adjacent 
 farm-house of Isaac Potts. We heard a great bustle in 
 Charles's cabin, and found that the officers within were at 
 carpenter work trying to make themselves a table and 
 some stools, and Charles and another were busy putting 
 additional clay plaster on their chimney. Being called he 
 came forth, his hands and clothes bedaubed with clay, in 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 293 
 
 spite of which he kissed us right heartily. I was helped 
 from my horse and given a seat in the cabiuj the seat 
 being only the end of a log with a square of slab nailed 
 to the top thereof. My uncle gave Charles the blanket 
 which he carried, Charles acknowledging that he had none, 
 as he had wrapped his about Robert Shirtliffe, who had 
 been wounded in the attack on White Marsh. My uncle 
 also gave the inmates of this cabin, who were the com- 
 missioned officers of two companies, the veteran gobbler 
 and a portion of beans and bacon for their New Year's 
 dinner, which I volunteered to cook for them, if they 
 would find me a kettle. My uncle promised these gen- 
 tlemen the beef which he had ordered over for next 
 morning as a dinner for their two companies, and as many 
 more men as it would reach unto. They advised him to 
 give the straw that was to come, and the other blankets 
 to the sick in hospital, and Charles asked one of his 
 friends to convey what presents we had brought for the 
 hospital at once to the nurse. My cousin said that he 
 thought he could get lodging for me with Mistress Isaac 
 Potts, at whose house the General was in quarters. So, 
 leaving our remaining provisions in his cabin, he con- 
 ducted us thither. N. B. — We had sent the cock to the 
 hospital for a soup. 
 
 At Isaac Potts' my uncle called upon the General, and 
 I, getting a place by myself in the attic, made it my first 
 business to rip the dollars out of my petticoat ; never had 
 money been so incommodious to me. It was dark night 
 by the time I was done, indeed I had a candle of Mis- 
 tress Potts for an hour to finish making the ijetticoat 
 
294 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 wearable, and after that I went to bed. My uncle re- 
 turned with Charles to his cabin. Early next day my 
 uncle came for me, and as I had liad my breakfast I went 
 with him to the camp, and directed my way to the hos- 
 pital, wondering much how poor Robert Shirtliife had 
 fared. I read the riddle in a moment, for a nurse was 
 stooping over a patient, and that nurse was — Hannah 
 Dana. But, oh, how changed is Hannah ! Her face is 
 worn, her hair is gray, she looks twenty years older ; and 
 as I clasped her hard, rough hand, and felt what she had 
 done and suffered for our cause, tears of very shame rolled 
 over my cheeks ; for I had all this while done nothing. 
 
 Only a few of the sick are in this hospital, for it is too 
 small for a tenth part of those who need. Hannah said 
 she had carried the blanket that my uncle sent her to a 
 sick man lying on the earth in a cabin, and that she 
 should make the broth go as far as she could. I set 
 about helping her care for her patients, put her hospital 
 in order, and prepare their food. While we were busy 
 Richard Reid came in. Said Hannah, " I would have 
 died of very despair and heart-ache here had it not been 
 for this good friend. He labors for the sick night and 
 day, contrives beds for them, robs himself to feed them, 
 and reads and })rays with them." 
 
 After Ave had done what was possible in the hospital, 
 Richard and Hannah went off to see other sick soldiers, 
 and I went to Robert Shirtliffe, whom before I had not 
 dared approach. " Deborah," I said, " how fare you "? " 
 
 "Safe yet, thanks to Hannah," said Deborah. "When 
 first I felt the ball go through my shoulder, all else was 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 295 
 
 ilANNAH DANA 
 
29G PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 lost in the horrible thought that now I should be dis- 
 covered. I prayed God to have mercy on me, and let 
 me die at once. But I was picked up and carried to one 
 side, and in an hour or two, during which I suffered the 
 agonies of death from apprehension, some one stopped 
 by me crying, "What, Bob! wounded? Cheer up, now; 
 we will save you." And it was your cousin. He had 
 his blanket wrapped around me, and I was carried back 
 of the encampments. I was nearly senseless from terror 
 when I was jjutdown, and Captain Temple went off to find 
 help for me. He came back at last, saying, " Cure Bob ; I 
 owe my life to him." I opened my eyes to beg to be let 
 alone, and there stood Hannah Dana! She did not rec- 
 ognize me until, as she bent down, I whispered, " Keep 
 my secret, or let me die." By Hannah's nursing I am 
 now nearly well, and as long as she stays near ns, I feel 
 safe. Hardly had Deborah finished whispering her story 
 to me than Thomas Otis came rushing into the tent. He 
 is now lieutenant. Of course I was very glad to see 
 Thomas, and he was begging me to eat my New Year's 
 dinner with him, when he stopped short, recalling that he 
 had nothing to eat. I divined the cause of his trouble, 
 and begged him to make up a party of Mr. Reid, Joseph 
 Dana and Hannah, and I would eat dinner with them, 
 and, indeed, provide the viands myself. Just here Mr. 
 Bowdoin came into the hospital, and he must needs be 
 invited to join our feast. While I was arranging with 
 Thomas to find me some flour, my uncle bustled up aglow 
 with charitable feelings, as he had a whole load of straw 
 to bestow on the needy. He told me the beef was already 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 29.7 
 
 butchered, and as many poor fellows as it would suffice 
 for were to have a dinner therefrom. Poor men, some 
 of them in this bitter weather have not tasted meat for 
 four days. Hannah Dana came running at full speed to 
 direct how the straw was to be distributed to the sick for 
 beds, and hearing of beef, she called to Mr. Bowdoin to 
 run and beg the big bones to make soup for her patients. 
 Then I remembered that I must go and cook the dinner 
 for Charles's mess. Charles brought a black boy to help 
 me, and he dressed the turkey and replenished the fire in 
 the chimney; but it smoked sadly, the wood being green. 
 I pinned up my sleeves and skirt, and covered myself 
 with a check apron that had been in my bundle. Charles 
 brought me some flour, and the black boy found two 
 kettles. I hung these over the fire, and set the turkey to 
 boil in one, as it was too tough for roasting, and I put 
 the beans in the other. For want of kettles I boiled the 
 bacon with the beans; and I made some dumplings of a 
 singular variety to boil with the turkey. By the time I 
 had so prepared the dinner that the black boy could 
 serve it, and had made the hut tidy, decorated it with 
 green, and laid the table, it was time for me to go and 
 cook the other feast. Charles and his friends implored 
 me to stay, but they had uncle, and I had promised my 
 other friends; so Charles escorted me to the hut behind 
 the hospital, where Hannah cooks. Thomas Otis had 
 prepared a table, and had made a bright fire, and a green 
 bower. I had sent over some beans to Hannah, and they 
 were already boiling ; so I made a pudding with some 
 dried fruit that my uncle had brought, and I cooked 
 
298 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 some bacon to a turn. This was our feast. Mistress Lo- 
 gan and Cousin Judith would have pitied us, but we were 
 all hungry, and happy to see each other, and so we en- 
 joyed our dinner amazingly. Mr. Bowdoin was kind, 
 but restrained ; he did not mention Bessie until I said 
 that she was in Philadelphia, and well, when he replied 
 that he would trouble my uncle with a letter to her. 
 Isaiah Hooper had been abijcnt from camp, but he re- 
 turned before we had finished dinner, and sat down to eat 
 with us. ^Iv uncle gave the shirts and M'aistcoats which 
 he had brought, to the most needy men; he also, under the 
 general's advice, made the best use possible of his three 
 hundred dollars. 
 
 We had intended to return home by the 6th of Jan- 
 uary, but on the day before we would have set out, dear 
 Charles was taken with a raging fever. By great good 
 fortune we got leave to take Charles to the attic of Mr. 
 Potts' house. They picked a hole in the chimney, and 
 put in the attic a Franklin stove, for which alike I 
 blessed the owner and the philosopher. Mr. Potts and 
 my uncle made a pallet for Charles by canvas nailed on 
 sticks. They also made a screen to shelter him from 
 draughts, and Mrs. Potts lent me a curtain from her bed 
 to cover it. My uncle went to the farm and got me 
 three sheets and a blanket, also a cup or two. The attic 
 was very chill, but I kept hot bricks in Charles's bed, and 
 so prevented his taking cold. My uncle delayed a week, 
 torn between anguish at leaving Charles, and a desire to 
 go to the three maidens whom he had left alone in the 
 city. As there was no prospect of a speedy recovery of 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 299 
 
 our patient, my uncle at last left him in my hands, and 
 me in the care of Mistress Potts, and set out for home. 
 Mistress Logan thrice sent me presents by the Indian^ 
 a pillow-case, and two shirts, a parcel of rice, one of 
 sugar, and a packet of tea, also some jelly. The Indian 
 was so much my friend in need, that as a token of my 
 gratitude, I gave him a ring with a turquoise set therein ; 
 as he could not get it on a finger, I hung it to his neck 
 by a silken string. 
 
 While I was constantly occupied in nursing Charles I 
 often saw Hannah Dana. ]\Ir. Bowdoin, Joseph Dana, 
 Thomas Otis, and Mr. Reid also came by turns to sit up 
 with my patient at night. Robert Shirtliife being recov- 
 ered also was useful. During the day I kept warm by 
 wearing my fur cloak, unless I was obliged to add it to 
 Charles's bed-clothes. My heart ached for my poor cousin 
 when I saw him lying in that bare attic, and contrasted 
 it with the luxurious home to which he had always been 
 accustomed. 
 
 The destitution here is deplorable; men are almost 
 naked, the well fall ill from want of food and clothing, 
 and the sick die by scores for want of beds and proper 
 diet. I have much ado to keep Charles provided with 
 food fit for his case, but Mistress Potts allows me to cook 
 whatever I can for him in her kitchen. In February, 
 while I was yet watching by Charles, Lady "Washington 
 came to the camp. I had longed much to see one so 
 famous for her goodness, courage, and fine manners. She 
 was very kind to me when she met me ; she often sent 
 food to Charles, and she inquired after him every day; 
 
300 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 she wrote to Dame Warren while I was in the house, and 
 allowed me to send a line with hers. After she came the 
 General built a log cabin for a dining-room, which made 
 their quarters more comfortable. I was asked to dine 
 
 with them one day, and as 
 Mistress Logan had sent 
 me some clothes by the 
 Indian, I was able to make 
 a decent appearance. The 
 dinner was only bacon, 
 greens, a beef pie, and an 
 / apple pie ; but it Avas served 
 with all ceremony, as if it 
 had been a royal feast, and 
 Captain Heury Lee, the 
 LADY WASHINGTON. Geucral's favorite, whom 
 
 they call " Light Horse Harry," and who is always doing 
 brave, dashing things, handed me in to dinner. I was 
 so overawed at being at the same table with General and 
 Lady AVashington, persons whom my fancy has set among 
 the gods rather than among human beings, that I could 
 hardly eat a mouthful, and Lady "Washington said my 
 nursing the sick had ruined my ajipetite. After dinner 
 she led me to speak of my Plymouth home, and of Dame 
 Mercy, and my grandfather, and she wiped her eyes sev- 
 eral times Avhen I told her of grandmother's dying of a 
 broken heart. She also talked with me about spinning 
 and weaving, and said 'twas a pity such useful arts were 
 going out of fashion with young women. 
 
 One day while I was in the kitchen making a gruel, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 301 
 
 Isaac Potts came in, and seating himself nigh the fire- 
 place, covered his face with his hands, seeming deeply 
 moved. Plis wife and I were alone in the kitchen, and 
 she said, " Speak, what ails thee, Isaac ? " 
 
 He then told us that he strolled up the creek, looking 
 to the affairs of his farm, when he heard a solemn voice 
 in the woods, not far from the mill-dam. Anxious lest 
 some spy, or treachery, might be on foot, he drew thither, 
 when he saw the General's horse tied to a sapling. Still 
 pressing quietly on he saw the General on his knees under 
 a tree, tears pouring over his cheeks, his hands held up 
 busy in prayer for his soldiers. At this sight Isaac Potts 
 hastened to withdraw, and as he told us thereof, he wept. 
 Then rising, he said to his wife, " I tell thee, if there is 
 any one living on this earth whom God will hear, it is 
 George AVashington, and I feel an assurance that under 
 such a commander there can be no doubt of our eventu- 
 ally establishing our independence, and that God in his 
 providence has so willed it." But this good General 
 is sorely tried by enemies, by a dilatory Congress, by 
 envy, and by the remissness of commissary, quarter- 
 master, and paymasters, who leave upon him the whole 
 burden of this liorrible destitution.. 
 
 After Logan had come several times to me with parcels 
 he appeared one evening with a letter. He was partially 
 intoxicated, and I noticed that my talisman was not on 
 his neck. I asked, "Logan, where is my ring?" 
 
 He replied, solemnly, "Logan's heart is black; he has 
 drunk the fire-water, and the maiden's ring is gone." 
 
 I said, "Logan, it is most wicked to drink fire-water 3 
 
302 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 some day it may lead you to evil deeds, or to your own 
 death." 
 
 He replied, with drunken gravity, " Logan is the white 
 man's friend ; fire-Avater is white man's evil gift. The 
 Great Spirit is angry with him who drinks fire-water." 
 
 " Since you know that, drink it no more," I said. 
 
 He answered, " Who now cares for Logan, the chief 
 of the empty cabin? Let him die of fire-water. White 
 maiden, I^ogan is the white man's friend ; he sat in his 
 cabin while the braves went by to war. But Captain 
 Cresap killed all the family of Logan. Since then the 
 war-path has known the foot of Ta-ga-jute, and his 
 hatchet has been red." 
 
 "Logan," I said, "perhaps it was not Captain Cresap, 
 and if it had been, leave God to avenge; it is wicked to 
 avenge yourself." 
 
 He replied: "The Great Spirit is busy enough avenging 
 the white man ; the Indian will attend to his own affairs. 
 Cornstalk took the war-path, many Indians went with 
 Dunmore, but Logan is lonely in heart and cabin." 
 
 " But, Logan, if you will leave fire-water and revenge, 
 you will be happier, and the love of the Great Spirit will 
 follow you." He turned the conversation adroitly, tipsy 
 as he was. 
 
 "Is the young man better?" 
 
 "Much better thank you, Ta-ga-jute." 
 
 "And the Captain I led from the passage?" 
 
 " He also is well." 
 
 "And the beardless young officer, who talked by the 
 irate?" 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 303 
 
 That meant Thomas Otis. I replied, "All are well." 
 
 Then with a grin that made me feel guilty of being a 
 coquette, which surely I have neither wish nor opportunity 
 to be, he said: "The white maiden has many to love her, 
 Logan not one. Ta-ga-jute will go now to the broad 
 waters of the Northwest, and to the river that runs toward 
 the sunset. Peace shall beam, but not for Logan. Ta- 
 ga-jute wall die, and the birds shall sing over his grave, 
 which will be bare of flowers, because no one has watered 
 it with tears; but in the land of the Grearf; Spirit, doubt- 
 less, the soul of Logan will look back and remember the 
 maiden." 
 
 Llaving said this he hurried off. Lady Washington had 
 been passing the kitchen door, and looking in had seen 
 me talking to the Indian, and had heard his last words. 
 She said : "Is that Logan, the Mingo chief? His speech 
 to Dunmore was printed in the Virginia Gazette of '75, 
 and was such a fine specimen of natural eloquence that I 
 preserved it." 
 
 I would have been glad to tell her of Ta-ga-jute's 
 friendships and errands of late, but that is Mistress Lo- 
 gan's secret, and though she had not bidden me be silent, 
 yet she had given me no leave to speak of it. 
 
 My Cousin Charles improved rapidly when he began 
 
 to amend, and by the middle of February he was well 
 
 enough for me to leave him ; but I was obliged to remain 
 
 until the end of the month, as no way offered for me to 
 
 get into Philadelphia. After Charles was in no need of 
 
 nursing, time hung heavily u])on my hands, for I had no 
 
 work with me, and it was not proper for me to be much in 
 20 
 
304 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 the camp. I helped Mistress Potts in her house, and sew- 
 ing, and Lady Washington was very good to nie, and 
 often had me sit with her for an hour, and also lent me 
 some reading. I got of her some paper, and also pen and 
 ink, and note in this, my journal, at odd times in the attic, 
 but only a little, leaving gaps to be filled, lest it be 
 looked over by some enemy as I go home. Thomas Otis 
 came often to see me, and wanted me to walk with him, 
 but I did not go beyond the house yard, as it was against 
 the opinion of Mistress Potts. Richard Reid came also 
 to visit me, but there was no place for me to see any one 
 but by Mistress Potts' kitchen fire, the General's family 
 taking up the whole house. Still, my visitors were kind 
 enough to seem as pleased as they would have done in 
 my Cousin Judith's parlor. 
 
 In many a wakeful night hour I, who have been this 
 winter in both armies, contrast the two. In Philadelphia 
 all is riot and pleasure, feasting, love, and wine. A 
 great army, well officered, well armed, well equipped, 
 hearty and brave, lies in that city, kept in siege by this 
 army at Valley Forge. And what an army is this! 
 Naked, cold, hungry, unpaid, sick, their whole eifective 
 force, as I know, to be often but half the number of 
 those who delay in Philadelphia, they are kept together 
 by one man, inspired by his hope, preserved by his genius. 
 Surely it is the mighty power of God who restrains Gen- 
 eral Howe from rushing hither some night and routing 
 this whole encampment. 
 
 Mr. Bryan Fairfax, from Virginia, the rich and notable 
 royalist, visited the General this month; he desired to go 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 305 
 
 to England, bnt returned from Xew York, having failed 
 in his purjjose. The General was very loving to him; 
 he says Bryan Fairfax is a true and noble man, a royalist 
 for conscience' sake, and far be it from him to condemn a 
 man for following his honest convictions of duty. 
 
 But the most important event of this, February, was 
 the arrival of the Baron Steuben, aid-de-eamp of Frederick 
 the Great, Grand Marshal of Hohenzollern, Soldier of 
 Fortune, and I know not what else. Covered with all 
 the honors which Germany can heap upon a valiant offi- 
 cer, he has come here, at forty-eight years of age, to heljj 
 us Americans in our fight for liberty. I heard General 
 Washington say that the baron was in himself worth an 
 army, so great is his knowledge of military matters, and 
 so thoroughly can lie drill an army. Richard Reid tells 
 me that if General Greene is now made quartermaster, 
 there will be great prospect of our success. 
 
 General Steuben had been appointed Inspector-General 
 of the army, and General AYashington was looking anx- 
 iously for him, when one morning he clattered up to the 
 door, Avith a small retinue. I was up in my sole place of 
 retreat, that beautiful attic, and I thrust my head out of 
 the little round window, to see what was to be seen. 
 The baron is said to be forty-eight, but is gray and looks 
 older; his uniform was very fine, his manners were nearly 
 as grand as our General's. Mr. Reid told me after, that 
 the baron is a warm admirer of our General, and is a 
 man free from arrogance or pretension ; he made the 
 kindest allowances for the shocking state of our army. 
 The baron set al)uut drilling the men at once; he does 
 
306 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 all in tho most thorough manner. He speaks English 
 but poorly, and the first day he was in despair because he 
 could not find English enough fi:)r his multitudinous or- 
 ders, and the men could not guess at the meaning of his 
 French and German. The militia are quite untrained, 
 and probably are fearfully stupid and awkward in the 
 eyes of a soldier of Frederick the Great. In the midst 
 of the baron's helpless horror, as he stood wordless, and 
 the men gaping. Captain AValker, of a Xew York regi- 
 ment, stepped forward, and in very elegant French offered 
 his services as interpreter. The baron received him with 
 enthusiasm, embraced him, made him his aid on the spot, 
 and vowed that " he had not been half so happy had he 
 seen an angel stejiping straight out of heaven." He calls 
 the Captain " mon Valker," " mein frien," and will not let 
 him leave him. After the drill had been going on for a 
 week, Richard Reid took me to see it. The baron is al- 
 ready much loved, because he is a sincere friend of the 
 men; but his temper is hot, his patience very limited, his 
 amazement at Yankee blunders excessive; he relieves his 
 feelings by swearing furiously in French, German and 
 English. The baron visits the men's huts, looks to their 
 food and clothing and cleanliness, goes to the hospital, 
 examines the doctor's reports, is up early, and busy all 
 day ; dawn finds him stirring ; he is very particular in his 
 dress. The day I watched the drill, I had a good station 
 under a tree, and saw the troops come straggling up. 
 They were in all sorts of clothes, ragged, soiled, thin, but 
 better than a month ago. They came up irregularly, and 
 stood every M'hich way, holding their muskets in all 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 307 
 
 fashions, some nearly poking their bayonets in their 
 neighbor's eyes. Presently up rode the baron. His uni- 
 form was spotlessly neat. The Order of Fidelity and the 
 Star of Knighthood glittered on his breast. His sword 
 and epaulettes shone like gold. His hair was dressed as 
 elegantly as for a ball-room. He began giving orders to 
 form the men in a line, and after much commanding, 
 pushing, awkwardness, bungling and blundering, they 
 were in a long, long row. Next order was, "Shoulder 
 arms," and a world of work it was to get the arms in the 
 right position, and every officer in his proper place. The 
 baron twisted and fumed and grew red in the face. Then 
 he- passed slowly along the line, took every musket into 
 his own hands to see if it were clean and polished ; and 
 if he saw a tatter that might have been sewn up, shoes 
 that might have been cleaner, soiled skin or spots on the 
 clothes that might have been brushed off, he was not 
 slow to speak. This examination took a long while, but 
 the baron looked and spoke kindly, and said some witty 
 things, and all evidently felt grateful to him. Then he 
 resumed his position and shouted his orders, and the poor 
 militia-men blundered at every one. They could not un- 
 derstand, and the more the baron ordered and explained, 
 and the more Captain AYalkcr interpreted the worse mat- 
 ters became. The baron grew red, then ])urple, groaned, 
 pounded the pommel of his saddle with his fists, and then 
 broke forth into SAvearing English, French, and German, 
 all at once. After a mad torrent of oaths and expletives 
 he roared forth to his beloved aid: "A^icn moii ami 
 Valkcr! vicu mon bon ami, vien Sacre, Donder, confound, 
 
308 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y : 
 
 (liable prencl, blitzen, ach de gauclierie of clese badants ! 
 je ue puis plus, kommen sie liier ! I can curse deni no 
 more. I am done ! " 
 
 A wag shouted : " Help him swear, Captain, that is what 
 he wants ! " and a roar of laughter passed along the line, 
 so contagious and irrepressible that the Baron himself 
 joined it, and thus recovered his good humor. But in 
 spite of his disadvantages I am told that under his disci- 
 pline the army improves every day in health and spirits 
 and drill. 
 
 One endeavor after another to get me home had failed, 
 and I began to think that I would have to be sent to my 
 Uncle Matthew in Virginia for want of opportunity to 
 get into Philadelphia, when the necessary arrangements 
 were made, and I was allowed, on the first day of March, 
 to return to my uncle. I had left home to stay two days, 
 and I had been gone three months, and never twenty-five 
 miles distant from my uncle's roof — such are the fortunes 
 of war. I was never so glad of any thing I think, as to 
 get safe back to dear Judith, and to Uncle John's protection. 
 I found the city madly gay as before. Colonel Nelson de- 
 voted to Susannah, and Susannah calm and reticent as ever; 
 Bessie wildly flirting, and giving Mistress Seaforth worlds 
 of anxiety, and Annie Seaforth very much secluded, and 
 only desirous of hearing all I could tell her of every word, 
 act, look, of our Charles. I brought her a ring, a letter, 
 and one or two other tokens from him, which made her 
 very happy. Hester plied me with questions about whom I 
 had seen, and was very glad of Thomas Otis' promotion, 
 which was surely good hearted in her. Pompey and 
 
ONE HUSDRED YEARS AGO. 309 
 
 Nervey looked on me as one rescued from the mouth of 
 a lion. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 March 20, 1778. 
 TF Dame Mercy "Warren ever comes to me, as she said, 
 -*- for material for her history of these weighty times, 
 and this young country, she will find cause for condemn- 
 ing me in my carelessness of dates these three months by 
 ])ast. But the dame's suggestion "was only a joke, and as 
 this diary is for my own self only, the dates make little 
 difference, for I shall remember when things happened. 
 It has been impossible for me to write regularly, or under 
 fit dates for this some time, and I had to leave great void 
 spaces to fill when I had my journal safe home. Since I 
 returned I have been filling up and correcting. Some 
 day Judith's or Charles's grandchildren may question of 
 these times, and the journal of their venerable, gray, 
 spectacled cousin will be a bar of final appeal. Yester- 
 day after we were done dinner, and Nervey and Pompey 
 had carried away the cloth, I sat by the window reading, 
 Judith was sewing, and Hester was pretending to knit; 
 Susannah looked out the window doing nothing. My 
 uncle called her: "Daughter Susannah, come to me." 
 She came slowly. "Daughter Susannah," said ray uncle, 
 polishing his spectacles, " Colonel Nelson has asked my 
 leave to make proposals of marriage to you. What shall 
 I answer him?" 
 
 Susannah became first redder than a rose, then whiter 
 
310 PATRIOT AST) TOBY: 
 
 than a lily, finally she said, softly, " Tell him uo, 
 father." 
 
 My nncle looked closely at her — she is a great favorite 
 with him, being like her dead mother. " Be candid with 
 me, with yourself, with the Colonel, daughter. What are 
 your objections?'' 
 
 "I can not marry one who is in arms against my 
 country, father." 
 
 " You have received his attentions a longtime, Susannah." 
 
 " But I did not encourage them," she cried, even tear- 
 fully. " Say, Judith, have I done other than passively 
 accept attentions, which he would bestow? Indeed, I told 
 him that I would never marry my country's enemy." 
 
 *'You are free from all blame, Susannah," said Judith. 
 
 "What did he say when you told him that?" asked my 
 uncle ? 
 
 '' He said," replied my lovely cousin, blushing again, 
 "that he was not an enemy to America. He was, he 
 said, merely fulfilling his oath to his King, and perform- 
 ing the duty of a subject; and he only wished that with- 
 out further bloodshed, an honorable solution to these 
 vexed questions might be found; a solution honorable to 
 both parties." 
 
 "Well," cried Hester, "the true solution is for them to 
 let us alone, and we will let them alone ! " 
 
 "AVhy not look at him in the light of his own declara- 
 tion, my daughter, and accept his addresses?" 
 
 "Father!" cried Susannah, reproachfully, "you see the 
 justice of Judith's not, in these troubled times, marrying 
 Henry Seaforth, whom she has known and loved for 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 311 
 
 years; you see that she must needs delay, because he 
 loves a cause which she does not love ; because her 
 brother and he are in opposite armies. And am I any 
 less an American, any less Charles's sister than Judith, 
 that it would be right for me to marry Colonel Nelson?" 
 
 " I only desired you to be sure of yourself, my child," 
 replied my uncle. "Have you any objections to the Colo- 
 nel personally?" 
 
 " I wish," said Susannah looking away, " that he had 
 been an American; or was an Englishman always on our 
 side, like Lord Stirling ! " 
 
 "■ You like the man, I see, better than his cause," said 
 my uncle. 
 
 " I like his cause so little, that I must reject the man," 
 replied Susannah, though not very firmly. 
 
 " But if the war were ended to-morrow you might 
 accept the Colonel the day after?" said my uncle inquir- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Oh, father," cried Susannah, "you know the war will 
 not end for many to-morrows. You must end this for 
 me — by saying no." 
 
 Then Susannah ran out of the room, looking ready to 
 cry. 
 
 " Judith," said my uncle, " what shall I do ? I have 
 feared that the girl cares much for her English lover. 
 She is of a gentle nature, and I am sure she will be un- 
 happy, after I have said ' no.' " 
 
 "Still, you must say it," replied Judith; "she would 
 be much more unhappy to marry, or form an engagement, 
 the way afiairs stand now." 
 
3 1 2 P^ TRIOT A SD TOR Y: 
 
 " I shall say it," rcturnetl my uncle, " but slie will fol- 
 low this man's fortunes, and mourn over his wounds, or 
 death, as bitterly as if there had been an engagement be- 
 tween them — and as for the Colonel personally, I do not 
 know any man whom I should prefer for her husband." 
 
 " The Colonel will not take the ' no ' for his final 
 answer if he finds that Susannah's objections are not 
 against him personally," said Judith. "Ah me, what a 
 pity that these had not all been little girls, in war times," 
 and she looked toward Hester and me, and gave a sigh 
 to Susannah. I am sure our Hester will never trouble 
 Judith by breaking her heart for any body, she is too 
 merry and careless; and as for me I shall never marry. 
 I am quite firmly resolved. 
 
 It was just as Jtidith said about the Colonel; he pressed 
 his questions so closely, that my uncle was obliged to tell 
 him that the war only, so far as he knew, stood in the way 
 of his* happiness. Said the Colonel, "Susannah and I are 
 both young, and w^ars do not last for ever; I shall wait 
 in hope, and offer myself again, as soon as peace is de- 
 clared." 
 
 My uncle, however, bound him not to renew those of- 
 fers, nor press any love-making, until the war was finally 
 over; also, more than that, not until the Colonel had had 
 the full and free consent of his own family ; for my uncle 
 plainly told him that Susannah should not go unwelcome 
 into any household. 
 
 Having pledged himself to observe my uncle's require- 
 ments, the Colonel wished to continue his visits, and this 
 matter was referred to Susannah. Her secret wish for his 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 313 
 
 society, and her views of what might be prudence, were 
 in a somewhat long contention ; however, she decided at 
 last — " Let him come." 
 
 " Poor Susannah," sighed Judith. 
 
 There are rumors-afloat that General Howe is to be su- 
 perseded by General Clinton; also that the British will 
 not try to hold Philadelphia much longer, but will con- 
 centrate their strength in and about New York. At 
 this news, 
 
 " Poor Susannah," said Judith again — but will it not be 
 "Poor Judith" also, and "poor Henry Seaforth," as he 
 must then go away ? 
 
 Bessie Warley is much of her time with Mistress Sea- 
 forth. I met her there the other day. I told her about 
 Mr. Bowdoin, and that he seemed so Sorrowful, and was 
 looking pale. Bessie asked me carelessly, 
 
 "Did you see much of him?" 
 
 "No," I replied; "he is so mistaken as to think me 
 your enemy. Cousin Bessie, and because of that opinion 
 he will not be a friend to one who is not your friend." 
 
 " How very amusing," said Bessie, lightly. 
 
 "Beautiful fidelity," said Mistress Seaforth. "Bessie, 
 you are despising a most noble affection." 
 
 " Do, Cousin Bessie, consider what a good man he is," 
 said I, "and Avhat a safe, happy, and peaceful home you 
 would have." 
 
 " I don't care for peace so much as for pleasure," said 
 Bessie, " and Mr. Bowdoin despises my sort of pleasure." 
 
 " You managed to content yourself well with what con- 
 tented him for a long while," I retorted, sharply. 
 
314 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " It coukl not have lasted forever — that is, not for the 
 term of one's natural existence/' said Bessie. 
 
 " Yon make a poor exchange, I fear," said Mistress 
 Seaforth, "giving up this good minister for Captain Banks. 
 I have watched the Captain narrowly, Bessie, and I am 
 not confident of his good intentions." 
 
 " His intentions are good enough," answered Bessie, 
 flippantly, "for yesterday he asked my father's leave to 
 marry me." 
 
 "And did you consent?" demanded Mistress Seaforth. 
 
 " Why," said Bessie, confused, " I asked two days to 
 consider, and " — she added, as one distressed and striving 
 to be gay — "you see I am considering by just not con- 
 sidering at all." 
 
 "Will you tell me why you asked for that delay in 
 reply?" 
 
 " I can not tell, to save my life," responded Bessie. 
 "All at once I felt as if I could not say 'yes,' and I 
 would not say 'no,' and I had an irresistible desire for 
 time before taking the important step. That is all I know 
 about it." 
 
 "My dear child," said Mistress Seaforth, "perhaps some 
 good guardian angel put this idea of delay in your mind. 
 If you truly loved this man you would not feel as you 
 say you do — that you could not say 'yes;' and, child, what 
 will be your married life without love? Besides, Bessie, 
 what do you know of this man's character, his history, 
 his private life? He is known to go to the faro-table, 
 and he has been several times intoxicated." 
 
 " But he is an officer in His Majesty's army, and ex- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 315 
 
 pects soon to receive his promotion. He will be Major 
 Banks." 
 
 " His Majesty has some proper villains for his officers," 
 said Mistress Seaforth, with a degree of heat. "The King 
 can not be responsible for the personal character of all 
 who buy commissions. Bessie, you know nothing of Cap- 
 tain Banks; all that you have seen of him in balls, par- 
 ties, theaters and calls, may be merely assumed to suit 
 society; and the real man may be very different, either 
 better or worse, but more likely worse, than this. Re- 
 member that you do not marry merely for public occa- 
 sions, but for private life, and that the man as he is at 
 home, or in secret, is the man with whom you will have 
 to do. If he is a deceiver, passionate, selfish, brutal, what 
 will be your future? and how can you be assured that he 
 is none of these? On the other hand, Mr. Bowdoin is a 
 man who is well known to you in his private life, his 
 personal character, and his past history; how much safer 
 would your future l)e if you chose him. Besides, you ad- 
 mit that he is accomplished, agreeable'* — 
 
 "Yes, and very good-looking" — interposed Bessie — 
 
 "And Captain Banks is none of these," said Mistress 
 Seaforth, sharply. 
 
 " But Mr. Bowdoin lives a humdrum life, in a humdrum 
 place," cried Bessie. " I should die of nowhere to go 
 but to church or a quilting; no fine dressing, no amuse- 
 ments. I do hate these stupid Colonies, and I want to 
 marry an Englishman and get to London, where there is 
 some stir in life." 
 
 " I am English, and have lived in London," said Mis- 
 
316 PATRIOT AXD TOBY: 
 
 tress Seafortli, but I have been very happy in the Cohi- 
 nies; happiness does not eonsist in London and gay life, 
 but in mutual love and respect, and unselfishness; in 
 home comfort and the fear of God, in an orderly, pious 
 and reasonable living." 
 
 " Dear Mistress Seaforth ! " cried Bessie, who had been 
 attentively considering the toes of her shoes, " do you 
 suppose I could get bridal lace and satin from New York? 
 and where would I be married, our suite of rooms is so 
 small, and I am without a chaperon to arrange for me ? " 
 
 Now this was such an impertinent ignoring of Mistress 
 Seaforth's advice, and such a bold hint that our dear lady 
 herself might offer to have the marriage under her own 
 supervision, that she only gave Bessie a reproving look, 
 and said no more to her, leaving me to entertain her. 
 Bessie asked me many questions about the caijip at Valley 
 Forge, but I evaded all. Before I left Mistress Potts' 
 house Lady Washington herself warned me to tell nothing 
 that I had heard or seen at winter-quarters, lest, saying 
 only what seemed to me harmless, I might divulge matter 
 that would prove important to the enemy and injurious to 
 the patriots. Lady Washington also did me the honor to 
 say that I hardly needed the warning, and that I had 
 much more prudence than was usual to young Avonien. 
 Not for worlds would I forfeit her good opinion. 
 
 When Bessie found it time to go home she suddenly 
 realized her errors toward Mistress Seaforth, and with one 
 of those bursts of penitence which are common to her, and 
 real while they last, she ran and knelt down before that 
 dear lady, and caressing her hand, cried: "Ah, you will 
 
, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 317 
 
 not be angry with me. If I had had all my life such a 
 friend as you are I should have been a better girl. Do 
 smile at me. I will be good. You shall choose for me." 
 
 " Suppose I choose Mr. Bowdoin ? " said Mistress Sea- 
 forth. 
 
 "Then I must take him; and in six months I will 
 break his heart, and in six months more I will go mad 
 from remorse of killing so good a man, and I will com- 
 mit suicide. That will be a romance of only two chap- 
 ters; a tragedy in two acts, Mistress Seaforth." 
 
 " Romances and tragedies have nearly ruined you," 
 sighed Mistress Seaforth. " Suppose I choose Captain 
 Banks?" 
 
 *^ Oh ! I'd take him — and there Avould follow reckless- 
 ness, dissipations, quarrels, an elopement, divorce ; a bad 
 story that, too." 
 
 "My dear girl," said Mistress Seaforth, solemnly, "far 
 be it from me to choose for you between these two men. 
 My earnest, my last advice to you is, to give them both 
 np ; withdraw from the society and amusements which 
 you keep; read only solid reading; learn house-keeping 
 of Judith ; be industrious ; follow after godliness, make it 
 your aim to be a good, reputable woman, and think no 
 more of marriage until you are fit to be a wife, and God 
 sends you the right husband." 
 
 Bessie looked grave, and shook her head. 
 
 "I couldn't. I should die of so dull a life. In two 
 months I should be going up and down distracted, like 
 Ophelia, and Abbey would be obliged to plant roses over 
 me before June. Besides, Mistress Seaforth," she added, 
 
318 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 in a gayer tone, "my father would be erying: ' ^Var will 
 not last forever; what will you live on by and by? 
 Make your hay while the sun shines, daughter Bessie, and 
 have two strings to your bow.' " 
 
 Her tone was such an absurd caricature of Mr. War- 
 ley's, that I burst into a fit of laughter; but Mistress Sea- 
 forth began : 
 
 "Honor thy fa—'' 
 
 The words died on her tongue. Who could honor 
 such a father as Mr. Warley? However, Bessie had 
 patched up a peace with her good friend, and the two 
 kissed at parting. 
 
 That night Bessie came to stay with me. She said she 
 felt restless and lonely, and could not stay at home. I 
 strove to lead the conversation toward urging her to take 
 Mistress Seaforth's advice, but Bessie was in her maddest 
 mood. She talked all kinds of nonsense; told how she 
 would appear at court ; how she would dress and have her 
 house furnished, and how she would arrange her wedding. 
 Then she meddled with Judith's and Susannah's affairs, 
 and declared Hester might make a sensation by her wit 
 and hrusqucri^ if she chose to do so; and finally she in- 
 formed me that Annie Seaforth had had an oifer of mar- 
 riage from a British officer, and might have had more if 
 she had not shut herself up, "wearing the willow for 
 her rebel lover." This angered me, and I retorted : 
 
 "You will please to remember that that 'rebel lover' 
 is my Cousin Charles, and stands in place of a brother 
 to me, and that I think he is worth being constant 
 to." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 319 
 
 "'Eh/' said Bessie; "this constancy is a great bore, 
 anyhow. I'll have none of it!" 
 
 The next afternoon she rnslied over to tell me that she 
 had accepted Captain Banks, and that her fatlier, having 
 had a stroke of good luck somehow, had given her 
 plenty of money, so that she should send to New York 
 for her trousseau. After this Bessie went and consulted 
 Mistress Seaforth as to her dress and behavior, accepted 
 all her advice, listened tractably when she set before her 
 her duties and responsibilities, and, in fact, behaved so 
 well, that at the end of a fortnight our generous friend 
 offered to have her married at her house. This has made 
 Bessie quite happy for the nonce, and since that she be- 
 haves better than ever. As to Captain Banks, he con- 
 ducts himself with propriety, and seems fond of Bessie. 
 Indeed, he has just got his promotion, and is now Major 
 Banks, to Bessie's vast delight; she calls him the major on 
 all occasions, as if there were but one in the world! 
 But surely this is any thing but a proper diary in Dame 
 "Warren's understanding thereof, with so much about 
 Bessie and her love-making. 
 
 AruTT. 19, 17 78. 
 
 Though there have been hints of the evacuation of this 
 city by the British, there are as yet no visible prepara- 
 tions for it, and the officers here conduct themselves as if 
 they would stay forever. 'Tis said that General Howe 
 hath not captured Philadelphia, but Philadelphia hath 
 captured General Howe. The good city of the Quakers 
 never expected to be so riotous ; my uncle says the plays 
 
 and displays here going on, will sj^oil us all for l)eing 
 21 
 
320 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 proper citizens of a republic, for republics, to continue, 
 should have citizens grave, decent, thrifty, and self-deny- 
 ing. But our Philadelphians seem generally, vying with 
 the British officers in extravagance. The officers, by a 
 tax on their pay, have opened a large house for amuse- 
 ment. Here, in one large room, they hold a weekly ball ; 
 in another is the theater; there are rooms for gaming, for 
 wine suppers, for reading, and for chess. Captain Sea- 
 forth and Colonel Xelson go to these last two rooms, and 
 one day Captain Andre, meeting Susannah, Hester, and 
 me out together — and we are seldom upon the streets 
 nowadays — took us to see the curtain which he had 
 painted for the theater, and prayed us to come to the rep- 
 resentations which occur thrice a week, but we should 
 never be allowed. Uncle was quite vexed at our going to 
 view the curtain with Captain Andre. Captain Andr6 is 
 quartered in Dr. Franklin's house. Mistress Bache left 
 the city before the British entered. Poor soul ! it was 
 hard for her to leave so commodious and dear an abode, 
 filled with her good father's special treasures, and she 
 had also a babe but four days old when she left. She 
 carried with her all the books she could get conveyance 
 for, but my uncle, who has gone several times to call on 
 Captain Andre, says that the other books and all the mu- 
 sical instruments are being carried off. However, as 
 Captain Andre is too much the gentleman to have drunken 
 riots at his abode, the house is being much better pre- 
 served than many here. The ca})tain vows he will carry 
 off the doctor's portrait which hangs in the dining:-room. 
 Captain Andr6 gave a party last week at his house, and 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 321 
 
 lie prayed us earnestly to attend, but my uncle would not 
 permit us to do so. He says we are too gay as it is, with 
 all the company coming to our house, and which we can 
 not keep away. To be sure, we are polite to all that 
 come, and Captain Seaforth and Colonel Nelson natu- 
 rally bring their friends with them to visit us. Hester 
 gives our guests some sharp touches once in a while. No 
 one cares less for attentions from "our enemies" than 
 does she. Hester has a harp, and plays very well upon 
 it, but it has been silent since our city was captured. 
 Among our visitors is an ensign, a fair little youth, who 
 sees fit to admire our dark Hester prodigiously. The 
 other evening he begged hard that Hester would play on 
 her harp. She replied: 
 
 " The strings are broken, and I shall not get them 
 mended until our enemies are gone from America." 
 
 "And how do you expect them to go?" asked Captain 
 Andr^, sitting by. 
 
 " By the same Gates that Burgoyne went, doubtless," 
 returned she. 
 
 Captain Andre looked vexed, but the rest of us had 
 much ado to keep from laughing. Some one, to be even 
 with her, asked cuttingly : 
 
 " How is that starving army of yours doing up at 
 Valley Forge?" 
 
 But he reckoned without his host who expected to en- 
 trap Hester. She spoke up quickly : 
 
 " Oh, it is all Greene up there now, so they are living 
 in clover," and good 'enough, too, for her to say it, for 
 since General Greene took the commissarv our men have 
 
322 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 had food and clothes. Hester's wit was in the ascendant 
 that evening, for when her ensign lover was goaded to 
 say, '' Well, we shall go np there and bag them all some 
 fine night before long," the girl retorted: 
 
 " Once I fancied you would show us Howe that was to 
 be done, but now I see there is no probability of it." 
 
 Still they come to visit us in spite of such passages-at- 
 arms as this, and I think Colonel Nelson explained the 
 reason of it . the other evening to Susannah. He said : 
 " Our officers here are living in riot and festivities because 
 they are relieved from the restraints of home, and are 
 tempted by the evil example of a few : yet amid all their 
 dissipation the memory of their English homes, with inno- 
 cent sisters and gentle mothers by the hearths, is like a 
 shrine in their hearts ; and here in your house, and at 
 JNIistress Seaforth's and some few other places in this city, 
 they find all the calmness and refinement and purity which 
 they themselves have driven out of other houses, and so 
 they come here for the sake of more innocent days and 
 honester employments than they have now." 
 
 "Ah me ! " cried Susannah, " what a pity that they ever 
 came from their good homes to do wrong and to get 
 wrong ! " 
 
 "I am glad that J came," said the Colonel. 
 
 " There is Captain Andre engaged to be married," 
 added Susannah ; " what a pity that he is here, where he 
 may go into battle and be killed." 
 
 "What a pity that he is here robbing Doctor Franklin 
 of his house ! " cried Hester. 
 
 "But Doctor Franklin is in Paris, and does not need it; 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 323 
 
 and the captain is more careful of the place than many 
 would be/' suggested Susannah, 
 
 "Thanks to the Cliffords for taking care of it/' said 
 Hester. 
 
 Yes, Doctor Franklin is in Paris still, and Ave are in 
 hopes to hear very soon that a treaty of alliance has been 
 entered into with France; then our success would be sure 
 indeed with such an ally. Even now our ships run into 
 French ports to refit, to load, to escape pursuit ; and we 
 have had several cargoes of military stores sent over; yet 
 half the vessels are wrecked or captured on the way ; and 
 then we take revenge by capturing a British cruiser. So 
 the war goes on, vexing land and sea. 
 
 Yesterday nncle went out to buy some chairs for our 
 parlor, and took me with him. Of course we went to Mis- 
 tress Ross, widow, upholsterer, as she is one of our Patri- 
 ots — indeed, she made our first national flag, General 
 Washington himself giving her the pattern of it, in 1776. 
 "When we had looked at the chairs the widow said to my 
 uncle : 
 
 " There are some of your way of thinking back in my 
 jiarlor, come in and have a crack with them." 
 
 So she led the way to the parlor behind the shop, where, 
 around the fire, were three gentlemen, who made room for 
 my uncle in their midst. They offered me a seat by him, 
 but, not being cold, I sat on the sofa behind them. Mis- 
 tress Ross presently brought in a tray, Avith cups of coffee 
 and a dish of cracknels, and treated her guests. The talk 
 first ran on Avhat ncAvs Ave Avere likely to get from France. 
 All hoped the best from Doctor Franklin's popularity. 
 
324 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 The good old sage is a favorite wherever he goes. One 
 of the gentlemen was sure that we should hear of a treaty 
 with Spain as early as one was made with France. My 
 uncle thought not. He said : 
 
 " Romanism in Spain has not merely cut down the plant 
 Free Thought, but it has rooted it out, sowed the ground 
 wherein it grew with salt, and burned it with fire. There 
 is nothing left in Spain for the idea of liberty to take 
 hold of. In America the idea of political freedom is the 
 legitimate offspring of religious freedom ; in Catholic 
 Spain there is not one emotion left to beat responsive to 
 Protestantism, least of all the stern Protestantism of 
 America." 
 
 " But France is also Catholic," urged one of the gen- 
 tlemen. 
 
 "That is true. But the French nation have not yet 
 felt it a sin to think. Philosophy and science there make 
 a way for the notion of individual rights, and the idea of 
 liberty is welcome to noble and peasant, and presses itself 
 upon the attention of kings. There is opportunity there 
 of alliance with America, but I doubt it will not be 
 lasting." 
 
 "Once this war is over," said one of the gentlemen, 
 " we do not want allies. Set apart from the rest of the 
 world as we are, we should be friendly to all nations, 
 bound to none." 
 
 On the way home I said to my uncle: "Sir, if you find 
 reason for or against alliances in religious opinions, then 
 Britain is our legitimate ally, being the only nation truly 
 akin to us in relio-ious feelino; and historv." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 325 
 
 "That is true/' said my uncle, "and once we get all 
 questions of rights between us fairly settled, I trust Eng- 
 land and America will be in friendship, a Jonathan and 
 David among the nations." 
 
 As for our aifairs here in America, my uncle says that 
 the independence of the country is, iu his opinion, virtu- 
 ally secured. Only Newport, New York and Philadel- 
 phia are in British possession. Our cruisers are getting 
 strength and number on the sea, so that it will make it 
 more and more difficult for them to get troops and sup- 
 plies from home; and as our armies continually become 
 more effective, they will more thoroughly prevent the 
 British from getting forage or foothold inland. My uncle 
 always talks of the state of aifairs at dinner table. He 
 desires to keep us informed, and we never have guests at 
 that meal. My uncle tells us that the British are likely 
 to gain advantages and territory in our Southern States, 
 they being more exposed in various ways, but if the Howes 
 and Clinton could be captured with their armies, or de- 
 feated like Burgoyne, Ave could make peace on advanta- 
 geous terms, and demand the complete evacuation of all the 
 colonies by the British; and, of course, the war must go 
 on until every foot of every one of the thirteen colonies 
 is FREE. My uncle thinks, from what he hears, that the 
 King of Prussia will succeed in preventing any more mer- 
 cenaries being hired in Europe, and that M-ill make a vast 
 difference to the King of England. I shall be glad to 
 hear that no more men are hired out like brutes to be 
 killed, and driven at the point of the bayonet from their 
 homes, and wives, and little children, to come fight in a 
 
326 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 war about which they care nothing. We hear, too, that 
 those vile men — I hate to call them princes, for princes 
 should mean something noble — had rather have their sol- 
 diers killed than not, so that they can get more money 
 from the English. I am sure King George must despise 
 them, even while he is dealing with them. 
 
 Uncle savs our two greatest dangers lie — in a weak 
 government, and in our Continental money. In January, 
 February and this last March, two millions and a half 
 have been issued, and it is rumored that noAV in April six 
 millions more will be sent out, and this money is worth 
 nothing, or almost nothing, and the credit of the country 
 is being ruined. Uncle says that as a consequence of 
 this worthless money, prices will run up enormously high, 
 and recklessness, extravagance and bad faith will be the 
 result. Then, as to our weak government, the States do 
 not send their best men to Congress; indeed, they do not 
 insist upon their coming at all, and we learn that this 
 winter there have been only from nine to seventeen mem- 
 bers in Congress ; and these are supposed to represent 
 the government of thirteen great colonies ! The conse- 
 quence is, that the different colonies govern themselves, 
 call out armies, manage their affairs in their own way, 
 and there is a lack of united action. Besides, the men 
 who are in Congress are timid and irresolute ; if there is 
 one thing that I hate it is changing one's mind. All our 
 best men, who made Congress worth something once, are 
 now scattered abroad. Washington is with the army, 
 Franklin and Deane are in France, and John Adams is 
 ordered there : Jay has gone to Spain, Thomas Jefferson 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 327 
 
 would have been in France but for illness, and is now at 
 home ; Rutledge is defending South Carolina. Still there 
 are a few of our good statesmen left in the Government, 
 and uncle says they are doing wonders, all things consid- 
 ered. Uncle says it is very easy for people in a house 
 ashore to look out at the sea in a tempest, and wonder 
 why the helmsman of some staggering, mastless bark does 
 thus and so, and why he does not run her safely into port. 
 We would know better what the difficulties were if we 
 stood in the helmsman's place. When these times are 
 long gone by, and independence is secured, then, uncle 
 says, it will be known what a storm was this, and what 
 were the rocks and dangers on every hand, and how sorely 
 bestead the ship was ; how maimed and dismantled ; how 
 fearful were the leaks she sprung, and how matchless was 
 that seamanship that brought us safely through. Uncle 
 never despairs. 
 
 April, 23, 1778. 
 I was writing just here of a ship, and since then wc 
 have been interested in ships. My uncle Matthew Tem- 
 ple got pass in here this week, and is now gone again. 
 His friend, Matthew- Ridley, of Baltimore, is at Xantes, in 
 commission business ; and Judith concluded that, as it had 
 been a long time since we had any good clothes, and it 
 might be longer ere we should again have opportunity to 
 get any, we should give an order to Uncle Matthew that 
 he might get transmitted to Nantes for us, and we would 
 have a parcel sent from France ; good luck if ever it gets 
 here. Bessie heard of the plan, and begged that she 
 might send \vitli us; so Judith gave her leave, and Annie 
 
328 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 
 
 Scafortli sent also. Our parcels are to come, for greater 
 safety, by three ships. Bessie sent for a pink silk negligee; 
 shoes, feathers and ribbons to match; white silk gauze, 
 six pair silk hose, as many pair kid gloves, five yards blue 
 velvet, and three pair white embroidered slippers. The 
 others of us were more moderate. Annie Seaforth ordered 
 a maize-colored satin petticoat and a lace scarf and an 
 embroidered fan. Judith is to have a bonnet and a satin 
 cloak. I do hope the parcels will come safely ; it will ha 
 such a treat to see new thino;s. 
 
 Bessie is very busy making arrangements to be married. 
 She has set the day for the eighth of jNIay. She is at Mis- 
 tress Seaforth's much of the time. The other day she sent 
 for me to come there and help her make a tucker, as she 
 was pleased to say that I was handy at such things. Judith 
 bid me go ; so I put on my Avork-pocket and went. When 
 Bessie finally laid me out the pattern and the material I 
 perceived that it was some of my dear grandmother's old 
 lace; very rich and beautiful it is, and I recalled so clearly 
 how she used to wear it, and how well it became her when 
 she put it on upon state occasions. I also remembered 
 what a wise guardian she had been to my childhood, what 
 a devoted wife to my grandfather, what a pattern of in- 
 dustry, patriotism, piety and steadfast friendship; also 
 what a truthful, loyal, straight-speaking soul was hers. 
 And thinking of these things I wept. Bessie noticed my 
 tears, and cried out, "Why, how now, child? Are you 
 vexed that you did not have that good lace?" 
 
 I replied indignantly that I did not desire the lace. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 329 
 
 She said: "Why, surely, you can not be crying over your 
 grandmother after all these years ! " 
 
 " Indeed I am/' I sobbed. 
 
 " Oh, how strange to remember so long ! " shrieked 
 Bessie. "Why, I would /or^rf myself in two years' time." 
 
 Now I am ashamed to record it, but this amazing dec- 
 laration of Bessie's set me from crying into a fit of laugh- 
 ter. Bessie thought she had quite cheered me up. I 
 made the tucker as well as I could, and Bessie put it on. 
 She had on a rose-colored gown over a drab petticoat, and 
 truly the tucker became her well, toning her high color, 
 and softening the outlines of her face, and serving the 
 part that the moss does to the rosebud. AVe all compli- 
 mented her on her appearance, and for herself, she was 
 quite satisfied with it. Captain Banks came in the after- 
 noon and asked Bessie to go for a walk with him. They 
 wanted Annie Seaforth and me to go with them, and obe- 
 dient to a siffn from Mistress Seaforth we went. She does 
 not like Bessie's going by herself as she does. As we 
 went up Market Street we saw General Howe coolly riding 
 along in INIary Pemberton's coach, drawn by Mary Pem- 
 berton's horses. As soon as he came to the city he seized 
 these for his own use, and since then Dame Pembertou 
 has gone on foot. Just after the General passed we met 
 an old, long-bearded man, carrying fruit baskets. As my 
 eye fell on him it flashed upon me that I had seen him 
 somewhere. I seemed to have a sudden half recognition 
 of him. 
 
 Bessie cried out: "There is the fruit-seller who goes so 
 often to General Howe." 
 
330 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Some half-defined idea moved me to say, " Let u.s buy 
 some fruit." 
 
 ''Oil, yes/' said Bessie, "pray do, it will be so amusing 
 to buy of tlic old creature!" 
 
 The man was hurrying on, as if preferring not to sell, 
 but Captain Banks, to oblige us, called him to stop and 
 let the ladies have a taste of his wares. He therefore 
 stopped, and while Captain Banks was trading with him, 
 I ventured to carp a little at the fruit and prices, in order 
 to have a delay, that I might study the merchant's face. 
 The beard, the wig, various other alterations had made 
 strange work with the countenance, but at last I knew 
 mv man. Only one thing that saved me from openly chal- 
 lenging my old neighbor thus : " Why here, and disguised, 
 Mr. Brown?" The thing that saved me was this — the 
 reading at worship in the morning from Luke ii. My 
 uncle remarked to us on the verse, " But Mary kept all 
 these things and pondered them in her heart": " jSIary is 
 an example of wise reticence; some people speak out 
 without consideration the instant they see any thing- 
 strange or wonderful ; some make public talk of their 
 private aifairs — he loses nothing who ponders events in 
 Lis heart before speaking concerning them." So I took 
 the mother of the Lord for an examjde of prudence in 
 speech, and only told my uncle privately of my discovery 
 of INIr. Brown. He had me write a careful description 
 of his appearance and give it to him, and he bid me say 
 nothing of what I had seen. 
 
 April 25, 1778. 
 
 Yesterday three of the prisoners whom we are now 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 331 
 
 nursing in the attic fell very ill, and uncle feared it was a 
 contagious fever. He said we girls must leave the house, 
 lest we all took sick. Susannah only would go so far as 
 Mistress Seaforth's, so that if uncle or Judith took sick she 
 might at once be with them. Judith, however, got a pass 
 through Colonel Nelson, and sent me with Hester to Ma- 
 dame Logan's, to stay until called for. AVe were loath to 
 leave the home friends in danger, but Mistress Seaforth's 
 house was full, and uncle insisted on us coming hither. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 May 3, 1778. 
 "IITE rode out to Mistress Logan's under escort of Cap- 
 tain Henry Seaforth, and of Pompey, who carried a 
 satchel of clothes for us. The Captain left us at the 
 gate, having a review to attend ; Mistress Logan received 
 us kindly, and said half in jest, " that we were welcome 
 to the shelter of her roof so long as she had any." She 
 told me privately that she feared she had aroused the 
 hostility of General Howe. Mistress Logan has been so 
 hospitable to the British officers, and has made them so 
 many entertainments, that she has been regarded, gener- 
 ally, as neutral, or a Tory; still, it has not been possible 
 for her to give aid and information so often to Patriots, 
 without being at least suspected ; and the other day she en- 
 dangered her safety by a careless use of her tongue — so 
 she tells me. The British government, all too late, have 
 passed "Conciliatory Bills" — bills which, passed five 
 
332 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 years ago, might have mollified the Colonies, but now 
 come too late to heal the division that evil counsel has 
 made. Governor Tryon, of New York, has published 
 copies of these bills, also of a resolution, to offer pardon 
 to all insurgents. Governor Tryon had the impudence to 
 send copies of his bills to General Washington at Valley 
 Forgo, asking him to distribute them among the soldiers ! 
 The General did so, knowino; that nothino- but rccofrnition 
 of American Independence would satisfy the Patriots, 
 and that these bills, in their blind ignoring of that, and 
 the terrible price of blood already paid toward obtaining 
 it, would only make his soldiers 'more resolute to defend 
 their cause. One of these bills, by some means, got to 
 " Logan House," and aroused Mistress Logan's sarcasm, 
 and she turned it into ridicule before some English of- 
 ficers, who were calling upon her. She says that not an 
 officer has been near her house since, and that she has had 
 hints that General Howe has heard of what she said, and 
 is angry. 
 
 Mistress Logan tells one that these bills have done a 
 world of harm to the king's cause. Not only have they 
 awakened the contempt of the Patriot, but they have filled 
 the Royalists, and the British army, with indignation, be- 
 cause they show such a falling off in the tone hitherto 
 used toward the " rebels," and indicate such weakness and 
 irresolution in the king's government. The Royalists 
 have been fighting, dying, suffering, exiled, to maintain 
 rights which the king could, but would not concede at 
 first, but now, humbly offers, when it is too late. We 
 hear that there is great displeasure in England toward 
 
ONE IIUSDEED YEARS AGO. 333 
 
 General Howe. They say that he is insolent and half- 
 hearted ; that he throws away all his advantages, and has 
 lost a winter ; and that he might have saved Burgoyne 
 if he had tried to do so. Word is, that he is to be re- 
 called; bnt his officers and men are very fond of him, 
 and will be loath to have him go. The weather was 
 most lovely when we went to Mistress Logan's. The 
 trees were coming into leaf; the birds in her beantifnl 
 shrubbery were busy; the myrtle, violets, daffodils, and 
 primroses were in bloom ; the little brook sang on its 
 way ; the bees had begun to work, and all the fields Avere 
 green. Hester, Miss Logan, and I could hardly keep in 
 doors, and we wandered in the garden all the day after 
 our arrival. Mistress Logan would not suffer us to go 
 into the fields, there are so many strangers lurking about. 
 
 The second day of our stay had nearly been our last. 
 "We were preserved from a great trouble entirely by Mis- 
 tress Logan's presence of mind. jSIy Cousin Judith 
 often talks to us about the worth and beauty of this 
 presence of mind, and condemns that frantic excitement 
 that can never do the right thing: at the riirht time. Mis- 
 tress Logan's example will doubtless avail to me and 
 Hester, as much as a thousand disquisitions on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 About noon, as we ate our dinner, we were startled by 
 a loud rapping on the front door. Mistress Logan her- 
 self answered the summons, and there were two British 
 soldiers. These men told her gruffly that they had been 
 sent by General Howe to burn Logan House. Mistress 
 Logan endeavored to argue the matter, or to get them to 
 
334 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 
 
 delay while she sent a petition into the city; but they told 
 her plranly that the right or wrong of the affair was none 
 of their business ; that all their duty was to obey orders, 
 and to delay would be as much as their lives were worth, 
 for the General had sworn that the house was a nest of 
 rebels, and should be in ashes by night. The soldiers 
 were quite sober and in deep earnest. They warned Mis- 
 tress Logan to make no delay, but to set herself at once 
 to save what few valuables she could get out of the 
 place. Fifteen minutes was the utmost that they could 
 give her, and this short space they should spend in the 
 barn preparing combustibles. 
 
 By this time the whole household had gathered in the 
 square entrance hall behind Mistress Logan, and the 
 maids were shrieking and wringing their hands, and Miss 
 Logan was weeping. The men turned off to the barn, 
 and Mistress Logan cried to us all to rush through the 
 house and gather the silver, linen, and best things in 
 sheets or baskets, and carry them to the cellar. I com- 
 prehended at once what she designed — we should carry 
 down household stuff as long as we might, and then, 
 while the house was burning above, we could be below 
 getting these things into the subterranean passage, where 
 they would be quite safe. Away we flew. Hester, and 
 Miss Logan, and one of the upper maids worked with 
 much dispatch and judgment, and I helped them, but was 
 stopped once or twice to call the other servants to their 
 senses. The youngest servant went to flinging china 
 and earthenware into the cellar, covering thereby the 
 steps with broken bits, to the ruin of the crockery and our 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 335 
 
 detriment in coming down ; the cook flew after iron pots 
 to carry them off, as if the fire would seize first on grid- 
 irons and saucepans ; and the gardener began tugging with 
 all his miglit at sideboards, too huge to enter the cellar 
 way, and at great stationary mirrors, built in between the 
 windows. 
 
 I wished to help the maid put the china expeditiously 
 in the great laundry baskets, bade the cook tie w^ the 
 books in table-cloths, so that she could carry them below 
 speedily, and persuaded the gardener to hurry the elegant 
 parlor chairs into the cellar and tear up the carpets, and 
 let the sideboard and mirrors be. Mistress Logan had 
 flung open the parlor windows, and was pulling down the 
 silk and lace draperies, gathering up ornaments and mak- 
 ing the most of her time, while she kept her eyes on the 
 road. Ten minutes had passed when an officer galloped 
 up to the front gate. Mistress Logan went out to meet 
 him — not rushing, screaming, and praying, but calmly, as 
 if nothing were wrong, and waited for him to speak first. 
 AVell for her that she was so wise. It was Captain Banks, 
 a little the worse for wine, out afler deserters. He bawled 
 out : 
 
 " Mistress Logan, are any of our confounded runaways 
 hiding about here? By Saint George, they think the 
 king's service is not good enough for them, and they run 
 off by dozens!" 
 
 "Yes," said Mistress Logan, calm and decisive, "you 
 
 will now find two meddling about in my barn; pray, be 
 
 quick, or the rascals will get the advantage of you ! " 
 
 I had heard this, as I tied up Mii^tress Logan's silk 
 22 
 
336 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 hangings, and I recognized Captain Banks. So as lie 
 spurred off to the barn by the road I flew there by the 
 shorter way across the yard, that I might, perhaps, say or 
 do something for my friend's help. Coming up to the 
 small barn door at the side, I beheld the tipsy captain 
 dash up to the great open door, where the sunsJiine was 
 falling brightly, and just within which the two soldiers 
 were preparing barrels, filled with straw and fine shavings, 
 wherewith to fire the house — several rooms at once. The 
 captain, full of his errand, and assured by Mistress Lo- 
 gan that these were deserters, bellowed out: 
 
 "Ha, sirrahs ! you beastly thieves, I've caught you! 
 Back to the city ; you did n't get far this time. Out with 
 you ! " 
 
 "By your leave, captain," said the men, saluting, "we 
 were sent by General Howe to burn this house." 
 
 "None of your lies," roared the captain. "Fall in line 
 and trot into town at the top of your speed." 
 
 Perceiving how the affair was likely to go, and being in 
 a good position for observing unseen, I continued to peep 
 in at the door. The other soldier said : 
 
 " We must execute our order, captain." 
 
 "I'll execute you," yelled the captain in a fury, whip- 
 ping out his sword, " if you do n't toddle into town in two 
 minutes." 
 
 The men, alarmed, turned from their work, saying: 
 
 " What are we to do ? " 
 
 " Do as I tell you ! " shouted the valorous captain. 
 
 "The general's explicit orders — " 
 
 "You have my orders!" cried the captain, frantic; 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 337 
 
 " and, zounds, if you do n't heed 'em, you'll not live to 
 heed others." 
 
 "You arc our superior/' said one of the men; "we must 
 obey but the general." 
 
 " I'll attend to the general, and blast me if I do n't 
 attend to you too," shrieked Captain Banks in a fury, 
 lunging at the soldiers with his sword, and so nearly 
 fallino; headlong; from his horse. 
 
 The men sprang aside, and saw it best to start for the 
 city ; they therefore set out along the road from the 
 barn at a keen pace, the captain following them and mak- 
 ing flourishes and pokes at them with his sword, that 
 might have harmed them had he not been too tipsy. One 
 of the men thus runnins; bethous'ht himself of the Q-en- 
 eral's written order, which he had in his pocket; therefore 
 as he went he jerked it forth, and turning, waved it at 
 the captain, for him to take and read. The captain, how- 
 ever, regarded this as a fresh insult, and clipped so dex- 
 terously at the paper with his sword that he sliced it in 
 two, and it was a mere accident that he did not cut off 
 the man's hand. Thus the captor and the captured 
 rushed along past our saved house, and my mind, relieved 
 of instant fear for that, reverted to the men ; and anxious 
 lest the captain might slay or cut down one of them, I 
 flew to the garret and looked out from the roof, meaning 
 to speed with the gardener to the rescue, if one were left 
 by the wayside. However, I beheld the zeal of the cap- 
 tain moderate when he was no more opposed, and as he 
 had some ado to keep his seat, he sheathed his sword and 
 fell from running to trotting, and then to a reasonable 
 
338 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 pace, so my fears for the men abated before they were 
 out of sight; therefore I came clown, and picking up the 
 two halves of the general's order, I committed them to 
 the kitchen fire. 
 
 Mistress Logan had kept on with her work of remov- 
 ing her goods, and, expecting that the general would 
 promptly send men to finish the interrupted work, she 
 continued to dismantle her house, until nearly every thing 
 was conveyed to the cellar. Anxious not to open the 
 passage, except as a last resort, she left the goods in the 
 cellar, which was dry and airy, and herself hid the silver, 
 money, and jewelry in the secret way. The thirtieth came 
 without any further disturbance, and that day Henry 
 Seaforth rode out to bring Hester and me home. He told 
 us that the fever had turned out other than my uncle had 
 feared, and that it was safe for us to return. He also 
 bade Mistress Logan restore her house to order and 
 fear nothing, for the general's wrath had blown over? 
 General Knyphausen, Captain Andre, Colonel Nelson and 
 others, having interceded to save the property. 
 
 As we rode home Captain Seaforth told us that Cap- 
 tain Banks brought his two innocent prisoners into the 
 city and locked them up, and for two days they were left 
 in w^ard. Then they were called for as deserters on his 
 charges, and being brought out, it was first discovered 
 how the General's order had been contravened. The 
 poor fellows Avere returned to their company, and a 
 hearty laugh was enjoyed at Captain, or rather ISIajor, 
 Banks's expense. The General was enjoying the mollify- 
 ing effects of this laugh when General Knyphausen and 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEAES AGO. 339 
 
 others persuaded him to spare Logan House. On promise 
 of strict secrecy, lest the laughter might reach Bessie and 
 mortify her, I told Hester and the captain of the scene 
 in the barn and on the road ; so we were all merry as we 
 rode home. 
 
 Captain Seaforth told us that General Howe is to be 
 relieved immediately, and that the officers mean to give 
 him a grand entertainment before he goes; also that Cap- 
 tain Andre is preparing the programme for the festivity, 
 and that all the most beautiful Philadelphia ladies wdll 
 be asked to take part in the affair. 
 
 On reading this over I feel ashamed that I wrote down 
 Major Banks's bad words. Two or three years ago I would 
 not have done so for any thing. I am growing much 
 worse I fear, in city life. 
 
 May W, 1778. 
 
 When we reached home we found a great stir of excite- 
 ment, for General Howe's resignation having been ac- 
 cepted more promptly than he had desired, he is to leave 
 presently, and all the army is sorry, for he is a grand 
 favorite; they are heaping up their regrets into a great 
 medley, called the mischianza, to be given in his honor, 
 and the officers and ladies who are to take part are agog 
 W'ith expectation ; it is to come off on the 18th. 
 
 But we had our own private excitement besides, for 
 Bessie had at last fixed on the 12tli for her marriage, and 
 she was to be married in Mr. Duche's church, and have her 
 wedding party at Mistress Seaforth's. Bessie begged that 
 Hester and I should be her brides-maids, but Uncle John 
 would not allow it. He did not wish us to be taking part 
 
340 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 in such festivities when Charles and so many of our dear 
 countrymen may be suffering or dying at that very hour. 
 Besides, tlie officers who were to be groomsmen were not 
 to Uncle's taste. However, we all went to the wedding. 
 I had never seen an Episcopalian wedding before. The 
 ceremony is very different from the simple fashion of my 
 grandfather, who, in the home of the bride or in our own 
 house, took the vows of both parties, prefacing and con- 
 cluding wdth a prayer, and usually giving a few words of 
 instruction and congratulation. 
 
 I must say for Mr. Duche that he performed the cere- 
 mony very impressively and affectionately : he was in his 
 robes, and the altar and railing were dressed in flowers. 
 There was also music, giving aw^ay the bride, which Mr. 
 Warley did very cheerfully, the giving of the ring, the 
 prayers and much more, which made a long service. 
 
 Bessie looked very beautiful — a little paler and more 
 subdued than usual, and her dress, of white satin, lace, 
 and orange flowers was truly exquisite. I wonder if 
 Susannah, who is much more beautiful than Bessie, could 
 look more lovely when she was being married; if so, I 
 think she would look just exactly like an angel, and I 
 would expect to see her fly away. 
 
 We went from the church to Mr. Seaforth's. General 
 Howe had been invited, and came in for half an hour; 
 he kissed the bride. The only ladies who were intro- 
 duced to him were Judith and Susannah, and that because 
 he especially asked it. The General is not a well-behaved 
 man, in our Puritan opinions, and it did me good to see 
 that his rank and power could not win from my cousins 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 341 
 
 any courtesy which they -would not show to a j^oor, ill- 
 behaved man. Colonel JSTelson introduced them when the 
 General came up, and they each swept him a curtsey, 
 very magnificent indeed, and then stood stately and cold, 
 with just the very least little bow to his comj)liments. 
 He invited Judith to lead a dance with him, and she 
 replied : 
 
 " Excuse me. General, we are Puritans, and do not 
 dance. We are only at this wedding because the bride 
 is in a manner related to our family." 
 
 " Ell," said the General, " not dance ! How singular. 
 Would you not dance with Captain Seaforth, Miss Tem- 
 ple ? " 
 
 " He knows my opinions, and does not ask me," said 
 Judith. 4 
 
 "And never dance ? " he continued, " why, what will 
 you do when the Captain takes you to England, and you 
 are presented, and shine at court?" 
 
 " The only court where I expect to be presented," said 
 Judith, serenely, " will be that of General Washington ; 
 and in a republican court w^e can all obey the dictates 
 of our own reason." 
 
 General Howe bit his lip, shrugged his shoulders, and 
 said : 
 
 " You republican women are as persistent as the men." 
 
 "We are all of one stock, sir," said Judith, and he 
 passed on. 
 
 We left the party soon after supper. Many of the 
 officers were taking too much wine. Major Banks and 
 Mr. Warley were especially prominent in over-indulging. 
 
342 PATRIOT A^'D TORY: 
 
 Bessie did not seem to mind it; she danced twice ^vitli 
 the Major, and after that with every body. We have 
 heard that they danced until the sun was well up. I 
 fancy Mistress Seaforth and Annie were glad when it 
 was all over. 
 
 Major Banks had arranged a very handsome suite of 
 rooms for himself and Bessie. They gave a wine-supper 
 there the second day after the wedding, and have card- 
 parties every night. Bessie says it is just the style of 
 life that she likes. She said, a few days after her mar- 
 riage, that Annie Seaforth and we girls must come and 
 see her often. We were silent, but Mistress Seaforth 
 said, plainly: 
 
 " No, Bessie ; you will be obliged to do all the visit- 
 ing, for the persons they would meet at your house are 
 not suitable company for young maidens. I am sorry 
 you do not take my advice about your associates and en- 
 tertainments." 
 
 Bessie laughed, saying : 
 
 "But you also bade me please my husband, and these 
 are the companions the Major likes." 
 
 I had forgotten to set down a talk I had with Bessie 
 two days before she was married. She told me she had 
 had a letter from Mr. Bowdoin, and had answered it. I 
 said : 
 
 "Then, Bessie, I suppose you told him that you had 
 changed your mind, and were about to marry Major 
 Banks?" 
 
 "No, I did not," said she. "I never told him a word 
 of it." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 343 
 
 "What did you write to him for, then?" I asked, 
 amazed. 
 
 "Because he begged me to, and it was such fun to 
 smugo-le a letter to and from a rebel." 
 
 "Oh, Bessie!" I cried, "you were wicked not to tell 
 him." 
 
 "Wicked," says she, tossing her head; "'tis wicked to 
 hurt one's feelings, and do you think I would hurt 
 his, when he is moiling away in that cold camp, eating 
 pork and beans ? Let him have what consolation he 
 can." 
 
 "And does he trust you yet after all your neglect?" 
 
 "He is too fond of me to accuse me of neglect. He 
 thinks my father over-influences me. As for himself, he 
 gives me good advice and calls me his dear, charming 
 Bessie, and hopes for better times. I wish he had been 
 a Major in the British army instead of a parson. I am 
 sure Major Banks never calls me half as nice names" — 
 and she burst out crying. Oh, poor, wicked, unhappy 
 Bessie, to marry, feeling this way! and poor Mr. Bowdoin 
 to trust and be deceived ! I wonder will she write to him, 
 now that she is married ? If the British do go away from 
 the city, as they say, and our army comes in, I shall tell 
 Mr. Bowdoin of Bessie's marriage. She shall not trifle 
 with him any longer. 
 
 May 20, 1778. 
 
 Well, the mischianza has come off", and what a stir the 
 city was in about it. 'Twas of Captain Andre's arrang- 
 ing, and held at the Wharton mansion, one of the most 
 elegant places in the city, with lawns and flowers, trees 
 
344 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 and shrulibcry, and the river Aviuding in front — every thing 
 to make it lovely. 
 
 The fete was a regatta and a tournament; we had tickets 
 and so had Annie Seaforth, and she and Judith and Su- 
 sannah were prayed to take part in it, but both ]\Ir. Sea- 
 forth and my uncle regarded this extravagant display as 
 most wicked folly. Captain Andre was at our house and 
 said to my uncle : 
 
 "Surely, Mr. Temple, you will not forbid these ladies 
 to enjoy so charming a festa?" 
 
 "Captain," my uncle replied, "you forget that their 
 countrymen are suffering and fighting in open field, and 
 that at any hour they may be called to mourn a brother 
 and lack even the poor consolation of burying his corpse." 
 
 Mr. Seaforth was yet more open in his condemnation. 
 He said that he could not understand that, either as a 
 man or as a soldier, General Howe merited the applause 
 about to be heaped upon him; that he thought nineteen 
 thousand men could serve their king better than by imi- 
 tating the absurdities of the tales of chivalry ; that, while 
 the horrid realities of war were close about them, to mock 
 it in a pantomime was ill-advised ; that these officers were, 
 perchance, dancing on the edge of their open graves; and 
 that the young women who would, dressed in extravagant 
 Turkish costume, take part in such a display, were not 
 Avise, prudent, modest or sensitive ; and that no daughter 
 of his should so much as look at the parade. 
 
 I saw one of the Scotch officers passing our house on 
 the morning of the 18th, and some one meeting him 
 said ; 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 345 
 
 " Do you not think that Washington will seize this day 
 of festivity as a favorable opportunity for attack?" 
 
 He replied : 
 
 ^' If Mr. Washington possesses half the wisdom and 
 sound policy that I have ever given him credit for, he will 
 by no means meddle with us at such a time. The ex- 
 cesses of this day are, to him, equivalent to a victory." 
 
 No expense was spared for this entertainment; rooms 
 were painted and decorated, refreshments were most mag- 
 nificent, dresses were in the height of splendor, and orna- 
 ments and lights for the apartments and pavilions w^ere 
 begged, borrowed or faJcen from almost every house ; — for 
 instance, the ball-room had eighty-five mirrors and thirty- 
 four branches of wax lights. At ten they had fire-works ; 
 at twelve supper, and then they danced until four in the 
 morning; but doubtless the most absurd folly was in the 
 day, when seven 'Knights of the Burning Mountain^ and 
 seven 'KnigJds of the Blended Rose' contended on horse- 
 back for the favor of fourteen beauties, dressed as Turk- 
 ish princesses, and sitting in fair view of all beholders. 
 Lord Howe and Sir William, Sir Henry Clinton, their 
 suites, many ladies. General Knyphausen and three other 
 English Generals were present; the noise of the perform- 
 ance filled the city. 
 
 We kept our house closed, as also Mr. Seaforth ; here 
 we were of perfect accord. At morning worship my uncle 
 read the account of Belshazzar's feast. 
 
 During the evening it seemed as if the city were about 
 to be taken from its riotous possessors, for a company of 
 patriots came up to the abatis with kettles of combusti- 
 
346 PATRIOT AyD TORY: 
 
 bles and fired the whole line. The guard along; the abatis 
 is strong and pursued the attacking party, who withdrew 
 in safety. The long alarm-roll was beaten, but the ladies 
 in the ball-room knew nothing of the attack which dis- 
 turbed the city. 
 
 The day after the miscJdanza General Howe withdrew 
 to New York, whence he is to sail for England on the 
 first ship. Sir Henry Clinton took command here on the 
 11th. He is not very popular. 
 
 Preparations for evacuating the city are now going on. 
 
 June 16, 1778. 
 
 There has been little cjuiet anywhere around us of late. 
 Sir Henry Clinton was ordered to evacuate Philadelphia, 
 and the breaking up of quarters here occasioned great 
 turmoil. There was a packing up of effects, selling goods 
 and stores at auction, lading of transports with hay and 
 horses, shipping of cannon, arms, and ammunition. Xot 
 only this, but a great number of our citizens were wild 
 with excitement and terror. They were those who had 
 been Patriots, and had turned Tories when the British 
 came, or who had taken a virulent part against their 
 patriot fellow-citizens in denouncing them and helping 
 to rob them. They now feared that they would suffer 
 in their turn. These people crowded the ships to go to 
 England or New York to the number of three thousand, 
 who took with them so much of their effects as they could 
 obtain transportation for. Their terrors were groundless, 
 but a guilty conscience does not pause to reason. 
 
 On the contrary, how peaceful and assured is a good 
 conscience — as Mr. Seaforth's. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 347 
 
 Major Banks said to him : 
 
 "Are you to leave the city, sir?" 
 
 "Should such a man as I flee?" replied Mr. Seaforth, 
 who is apt in quoting Scripture, though Scripture was 
 wasted on Major Banks; "I have wronged no man, ac- 
 cused no man; here is my home, here I expect always 
 to live." Then ho added, laughing, "I shall abide un- 
 der the palladium of my friend Temple's protection, as 
 he has lately been abiding under mine." 
 
 Mr. Duche is of those who are flying to Europe. Mrs. 
 Seaforth is very sorry to part with him, she is also very 
 grieved that she must now lose Henry. When he goes 
 from her will he ever come back? Bessie is delighted 
 to go to New York ; she says it is nicer than Philadel- 
 phia. I fancy she finds us some restraint upon her; per- 
 haps, too, she is ashamed that we know of Major Banks's 
 drinking and gambling. 
 
 Col. Xelson is very sad at leaving Philadelphia; he 
 hoped much from the arrival of the Peace Commission- 
 ers, who are — Frederick Howard, Earl of Carlisle; Wil- 
 liam Eden, and George Johnstone. They arrived on the 
 6th of June, and were very indignant when they found 
 that the order to evacuate Philadelphia had been con- 
 cealed from them. AYe know why commissions are now 
 sent. France has made an alliance Avith us; the news 
 got to Congress on the 2d of May, and on May 6th they 
 had a grand rejoicing because of the treaty, at A'^allcy 
 Forge. We hear that the men had new clothes, abun- 
 dant rations, a grand parade, fire-works, and at the head of 
 each brigade the chaplains offered solemn thanksgiving 
 
348 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 
 
 for this new aid given America in her extremity. The 
 neAvs was long in getting to us here in the city, but none the 
 less welcome when it did come ; the treaty was concluded 
 on February Gth; this we owe doubtless to Dr. Franklin, 
 and uncle says, " See here the influence of the scholarly 
 and temperate man, hale and venerable in his old age, 
 commanding universal respect, wise by study, observation, 
 and experience, able to nse in the service of his country 
 the fruits of a long life.'' 
 
 "VVe get a little more news now; in the stir of depart- 
 ure people creep in and out of the city more easily. We 
 learn that the Marquis La Fayette w^as almost captured 
 on the 19th of May. Sir Henry Clinton had nearly sur- 
 rounded him, when, by skillful management, he got away 
 from White Marsh in safety. They tell us also that 
 General Lee has been exchanged for General Prescott, 
 and that Colonel Ethan Allen, after his long captivity in 
 England, has been exchanged for a British colonel, and 
 sent home. He went to Valley Forge to visit Washing- 
 ton. I am glad the sturdy old soldier is back; my 
 grandfather would have been pleased to hear that. 
 
 The Tories welcomed the Commissioners heartily, 
 trusting that they would end this "vveary war; the Patriots, 
 however, feel that these envoys, like the conciliatory 
 bills, come too late; beside, they are not the right men. 
 
 Mr. Seaforth had the Commissioners to tea at his 
 house, and invited my uncle to meet them. He says 
 that Lord Carlisle is a young man of fashion, flippant, 
 amiable, and indolent, the last man in the world to con- 
 vince or captivate our sturdy yeomen, our scholarly 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 349 
 
 Schuyler, our brilliant Jefferson and Henry, learned Witli- 
 erspoon, far-seeing Washington, matter-of-fact Adamses. 
 Mr. Eden is very bitter against the Americans, and calls 
 them rebels, traitors, louts, who have been too gingerly 
 handled. This is unlikely to commend him to our peo- 
 ple — to enthusiastic Samuel Adams, or veteran Greene, 
 or ardent Rutledge. Mr. Johnstone is the strongest of 
 the party; he knows the Pennsylvanians, has stood our 
 friend in England, and will be regarded with respect 
 here, even though his mission can not avail any thing. 
 
 Mr. Seaforth told the Commissioners that a deal liad 
 been done to embitter the Colonies, and that the conduct 
 of Cunningham, Provost Marshal here, toward prisoners, 
 had been enough to enrage a whole nation, and that in 
 his view the first step toward a reconciliation would be 
 to hang Cunningham before the two armies. He said 
 that he spoke this as a warm royalist, intending to 
 stand by his king to the last dollar and last drop of 
 blood. 
 
 Our army of nineteen thousand conquerors of this one 
 poor city, has gone off i^iecemeal. Five thousand went 
 to attack the French in the "West Indies; three thousand 
 went to seize Florida ; the cavalry went to Xcw York, 
 and then ten thousand remained here with General 
 Clinton. 
 
 On the evening of June 17th Colonel Nelson came in 
 looking very mournful, and told us he had come for his 
 last visit for the present, as the army would depart next 
 day. He and Susannah have been learning a song by 
 Waller — " Go, Lovely Rose ; " they sang it together. 
 
350 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 Henry Seaforth also was to leave next day, and he and 
 Judith went out in the moonlight for a walk in the gar- 
 den. When it was time to say farewell — as Judith and 
 Henry had not yet made their appearance — Colonel Nel- 
 son begged my uncle to bid Judith adieu for him. He 
 shook hands with me, and with my uncle; then he turned 
 to Susannah. She made a grand effort to bid him good- 
 bye with composure ; but, as his voice and hand trembled, 
 she suddenly turned away, laid her arms on the table, 
 bent her head upon them, and burst into tears. The Colo- 
 nel at once dropped on his knees beside her and begged 
 her to change her resolution and promise to be his wife. 
 Susannah Avith difficulty controlled her feelings, and, lift- 
 ing her head, responded that she had chosen the part 
 which had seemed right to her, and could not alter her 
 determination. 
 
 " If I am living when peace is declared," said the Colo- 
 nel, " I Avill at once come to you to ask for the promise 
 which you now refuse. But when I come then, shall I 
 find that some one of your compatriots, happier than I, 
 has now your hand?" 
 
 " No," said Susannah ; " you will find me just as I am 
 now." 
 
 He laid in her hand a little box, and then, kissing her 
 on her bowed head, he left the room. Susannah that 
 night showed me what was in the box — a very excellent 
 miniature on ivory, of himself, and a ring. She put the 
 ring in a case with some relics of her mother, but I can 
 not tell what she did with the picture : I have not seen it 
 since. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 351 
 
 Uncle John gave Susannah a little good advice next 
 day: 
 
 " Youth, my daughter, is volatile, and camps do not en- 
 courage steady habits. I do not doubt that, now. Colonel 
 Nelson is sincere ; also, I know that you are worthy of 
 any man's utmost fealty. But men change ; and it is dan- 
 gerous to set all our hope and faith on any thing beneath 
 the skies." 
 
 " He WILL NQT change, father," said Susannah, quietly ; 
 then, in a firmer tone : " and if he did, why, it would only 
 show that the man I cared for was not this Colonel but 
 an ideal ; and I would keep the ideal and let the changeful 
 real go." 
 
 I said, merrily : 
 
 " Oh, Susannah, do you know that on the day when the 
 Colonel came here first — to turn us out of our quarters and 
 send us to the attic, you know — he said that he wished he 
 had had his good clothes on, so that he would have looked 
 better to your eyes?" 
 
 " He always looks well enough," said Susannah. 
 
 " You seemed to think him frightful that day," said I, 
 " for you carefully kept the length of the room between 
 you two." 
 
 " It was not the man, but the uniform, that frightened 
 me," said Susannah. 
 
 "And it was the uniform, not the man, that was going 
 to send us to the attic ! " cried Hester. 
 
 " Have done, children," cried my uncle. " The Colonel 
 
 has paid for his temerity — he came to conquer and was 
 
 conquered." 
 23 
 
352 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " May tliat be a type of aftairs between England and 
 America," exclaimed Hester. 
 
 "As Susannah was victorious by beauty, so America 
 will be by the justice of her claims," said I. 
 
 " Nonsense," said Uncle John. " You have driven 
 that poor child from the room by your tormenting 
 remarks." 
 
 Well, they are gone. The invaders whom the autumn 
 saw enter our town have departed with the early summer. 
 I do not know what advantage they gained by coming 
 here, only to have a pleasant place to spend the winter. 
 Judith has been happy — in one way at least; and now 
 that Henry has left us there is in her eyes that look of 
 patience and apprehension. But that dear little Tory, 
 Annie Seaforth, in spite of her Royalist principles, looks 
 happier than she has all winter, for we are expecting 
 Charles every day. 
 
 What a queer overturning tyrant this love is. I am 
 glad that I am not in love with any body — and I 
 wouldn't have any one fall in love with me for the 
 world ! 
 
 General Washington has sent General Arnold, one of 
 our bravest officers, to take command of the city. This 
 General is lame from a wound in the leg received in the 
 fight at Stillwater last' autumn. We were all anxious to 
 see so famous a man. He is very splendid in his dress 
 and appearance, and we girls were quite enthusiastic 
 about him until we asked Uncle John to join our praises, 
 when he said : 
 
 " Undoubtedly he is a great patriot, and I love him for 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 353 
 
 his cause ; but he has the face of a man bohl, haughty, 
 
 selfish, unscrupulous; and his history has not been free 
 
 from blots of harshness 
 
 and dishonesty. As a 
 
 man I believe I had 
 
 rather General Howe any 
 
 day." 
 
 How very odd of un- 
 cle. He is surely mis- 
 taken this time. Gen- 
 eral Burgoyne is not to 
 be allowed to go home 
 with his army until the 
 British Govern m e n t 
 ratify the terms of surrender. Congress thinks he means 
 to try and deceive us. 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 July 24, 1778. 
 T WAS so ignorant of militaiy affairs as to suppose that 
 -^ when General Clinton stole out of our city between 
 two days, we should see presently General Washington 
 riding in in state, followed by all his army in holiday 
 trim. My uncle laughed at the fancy. He says our Gen- 
 eral has no time for mock heroics or May-day parade; 
 what engages him is work. So, indeed, it seems that it 
 is; for while he sent General Arnold with a few troops to 
 occupy the city, himself remained to get a battle with Sir 
 
354 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 llemy Clinton, if lie might; but Clinton was too wary. 
 All he desired was to get off safely, and to cover the re- 
 treat of General Knyphausen with the baggage. How- 
 ever, there was a battle at Monmouth on the 28th of June, 
 and every one says that it might have been a glorious 
 victory, except for the mistakes — or worse, evil intents — 
 of General Lee, whom I heartily Avish had been kept a 
 prisoner and not been sent back to bother us. The day 
 of the battle of Monmouth was very hot, and many men on 
 both sides died of sunstroke. In the night General Clin- 
 ton quietly withdrew. He is now safe in New York. It 
 is said that during his retreat through the Jerseys, he lost 
 two thousand men by sun, wounds, and especially deser- 
 tion. The Hessians desert whenever they get a chance; 
 and I do not wonder at it, for they know that their king 
 wants them killed, so that he can get the pay for them; 
 and that when they are crippled, or on parole, or sick 
 leave, he will not let them come hom£, lest they tell 
 things that will hinder his hiring out any more men for 
 the war. As they are thus prevented ever seeing their 
 families more, I suppose they desert, hoping to have 
 health and homes and a future in this country. 
 
 The commissioners sent to treat with the colonies, o.s 
 colonies, have entirely failed to convince any one. Mr. 
 Morris showed my Uncle John a letter which he had 
 from Mr. Johnstone, which was an evident but craftily- 
 worded attempt to bribe General "Washington, General 
 Reed, and a few others — as if such men could be bribed! 
 General Reed has said some w^rong things, and he has 
 done some weak and timid things, but in the eyes of the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 355 
 
 country he has atoned for all these in the reply he made 
 to an offer of bribe from Johnstone : " I am not worth 
 purchasing, but such as I am, the King of Great Britain 
 is not rich enough to do it," I am sure all honest-hearted 
 Englishmen must respect such patriotism as that, even in 
 an enemy. 
 
 On the eighth of this month a French fleet, sent to help 
 us in our operations along the coast, and to harass the 
 British shipping, anchored at the mouth of the Delaware. 
 What a pity that the weather had detained them so long 
 on their voyage, else they might have caught Admiral 
 Howie's fleet here in the river! 
 
 In this city we think we have seen something of the 
 war ; and I, who saw the struggle open in Massachusetts, 
 am apt to relate the wonders of my experience to my 
 young friends. But how little do we know of war's cruel- 
 ties and misfortunes in comparison with those M'ho are on 
 the frontier, where the Indians have been aroused up to 
 the deeds of violence. "VYe have just heard news that 
 has stirred all our hearts; the British and Indians have 
 descended on the beautiful Wyoming Valley, and have 
 massacred men, women, and children. Most of the able- 
 bodied men were in the army ; four or five of these re- 
 turned to defend their families, but the militia at Forty 
 Fort were old men or boys, and these, under Colonel Zebu- 
 Ion Butler, after a brave fight were routed, and almost all 
 of them butchered. Women, children, invalids, and aged 
 men fled, without food or horses by night, pursued by 
 the yelling Indians. Some died of fatigue and hunger on 
 the road. Oh, the poor women and little ones, whose 
 
356 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 husbands, fathers, and brothers were killed ! — homeless, 
 hungry, and beggared, flying through the terrible woods ! 
 We all feel so badly for them, that we can hardly eat or 
 sleep for thinking of those whom Ave would gladly helj), 
 but who are past our helping, 
 
 I do not see why this war should go on any longer. All 
 the continental nations think we have virtually gained 
 our independence. General Howe said when he left, that 
 all the disposable forces of Britain could not conquer 
 America. Lord Carlisle says: "Things go ill here, and 
 will never go better for us." Sir Henry Clinton declares 
 that "he is not strong enough to enforce the King's 
 authority." All the British plan now is, to lay waste the 
 country within reach of their armies. What benefit will 
 that be, if we succeed in maintaining a sovereign right to 
 the land ? We hear that in England the Commons are 
 tired of the war, and want their armies home. They say 
 the sooner peace is made the better. Here,- my uncle says, 
 is the disastrous power of the King. His influence, thrown 
 against that of the people, can drag the nation into a 
 course from which their better sense revolts. My great- 
 grandfather would have said that this is because kings 
 do not rule in God-fearing and man-loving, and do not 
 make Christ, the King of kings, their pattern. 
 
 July. 30, 177S. 
 
 The breaking up of the army at Valley Forge, and its 
 scattering for summer operations, has widely separated our 
 soldier friends. We can not feel too thankful that Charles 
 is among those who have b^ren detailed to occupy Phila- 
 delphia. His company arrived so much later than the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 357 
 
 ' The beautil'ul \'alky of Wyumiiii, 
 
358 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 major part of the regiments sent hither, that we feared 
 they had been ordered elsewhere. Charles was at the 
 battle of ISIonmouth, and escaped without a scratch. 
 Henry Seaforth's company was not then engaged, as it 
 was covering closely the movements of Knyphausen. 
 
 Charles came home on the evening of the twelfth. 
 Annie Seaforth had been visiting us, and Hester had 
 just called Peter to attend her home. It was after night- 
 fall, and our front door was open. As Annie was going 
 ovit, she turned to speak to me. While she was drawing 
 her shawl over her shoulders, and still kept walking back- 
 ward, so it happened that she walked exactly into Charles's 
 arms, as he came into the door. She was so surprised and 
 delighted to find Charles back, after his long, anxious 
 absence, that she threw her arms about his neck, and 
 kissed him several tyiies; then, shame-faced at this exhibi- 
 tion of her feelings, she ran and hid behind Judith, while 
 the rest of us welcomed with enthusiasm our returned 
 hero. My uncle said: "Come away, Annie; do not be 
 ashamed at having given Charles a kind welcome. I am 
 sure Judith kissed Henry when he came." 
 
 "Oh, but it is different to kiss Henry," said Annie, 
 simply. 
 
 " Yes, for you," said Hester ; and we all laughed. Annie 
 forgot to go home, and we forgot to send word to Mr. 
 Seaforth, and when it became late — about ten o'clock — he 
 came over to see what was the matter; then he ran to 
 bring Mistress Seaforth, and we all talked and enjoyed 
 our reunion until midnight. 
 
 General Putnam, with two brigades, has been stationed 
 
ONE H UNDRED YEA RS AGO. 
 
 359 
 
 near West Point — the possession of the forts and passes 
 of the Hudson Highlands being a main object of the 
 enemy. In the companies who have thus gone near West 
 Point are Robert Shirtliffe and Mr. Reid. Thomas Otis, 
 and Isaiah Hooper, 
 and Mr, Bowdoin 
 are with the regi- 
 ments who are gone 
 to that most danger- 
 ous fiekl, continually 
 ravaged by Indians, 
 and filled with the 
 terrors of Brandt, the 
 Mohawk and Scho- 
 harie Valleys. Jo- 
 seph Dana and Han- 
 nah are with Wayne's 
 army in the Jerseys. 
 General Washington brandt. 
 
 is at White Plains, watching for the first movement of 
 Sir Henry Clinton ; and the French fleet and some of 
 our forces under Greene and Lafayette are now endeavor- 
 ing to regain possession of Rhode Island. If this can 
 be accomplished, the British will be restricted to New 
 York and the Southern coast ; and my uncle says that if 
 Sir Henry Clinton can be beaten in New York, the South- 
 ern States must be evacuated by the Br^ish. 
 
 Mr. Reid, Thomas Otis, and Hannah Dana were all at 
 our house for the first week in July. They were in the 
 city on dififerent errands. Hannah had altered much 
 
360 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 since I left her the 1st of March. She is very thin. She 
 wears a cap like an old woman, but all her indomitable 
 spirit shines in her eyes. I told her that she had better 
 remain in the city for six months at least, to recruit. She 
 could attend to the sick, wounded, and prisoners here ; and 
 mv uncle bade her make his house her home, so long as 
 she would stay. She replied that the disabled in the 
 city would fare much better than those in the camp, and 
 that her place was where there was most danger and suf- 
 fering. She said that when she first went to the army, 
 there seemed to be several hinderances in her way, but 
 that these had been removed. She had thought that she 
 might not be permitted to follow with the camp, or that 
 she and Joseph might be separated ; but she had been 
 made welcome, and her services had been well esteemed 
 by officers and men ; also ^she had been always near her 
 brother. She had questioned whether, though she was 
 very strong, her strength would hold out for such Avork as 
 she had chosen, but she had been able night and day, in 
 all weathers and dangers, to attend to her duties ; then, 
 she had apprehended that she might be recalled from her 
 post by home affairs; her parents might be ill, or her 
 mother might die ; but of these cares she had also been 
 relieved, for her elder brother's widow and two children 
 had gone to live at the deacon's, so there was provided 
 help, society, and family for her old parents, even if she 
 and Joseph nevgr returned home. " And see," continued 
 Hannah, " how God has blessed me. I had been very un- 
 happy, because I had means to do so little, but suddenly 
 I have been provided with means, hard money, for all I 
 
ONE HUNDEED YEAES AGO. 361 
 
 want/' and tlien she told me that a bachelor uncle, know- 
 ing that she Avould never marry, had made her heir of 
 his little hoard of money, and that she had come to the 
 town to buy such things as she had long needed for her 
 army work. 
 
 " But, Hannah," I said, " your uncle meant that money 
 for your support, if you are ill or grow old." 
 
 She replied : " When I have given my country myself, 
 can I not also give what money falls to me? I believe 
 that for this use it was given to me." And so here is 
 Hannah Dana spending her all for the Patriots. My 
 uncle and Mr. Reid have helped her make her purchases. 
 She got a covered wagon and a pair of strong young 
 horses. The wagon is arranged to carry as many sick or 
 wounded as it will hold, and there are boxes and cases 
 fastened compactly in it to hold lint, bandages, knives, 
 scissors, bottles of wine, fruit, jellies, biscuits, and other 
 things useful to the sick ; also two cases of medicines ar- 
 ranged by Doctor Binney; and strapped along the top of 
 the wagon are half a dozen good blankets for covering 
 the wounded in cold nights. 
 
 When it comes winter, Judith means to send Hannah 
 our famous fur cloak. I hope no one will ever capture 
 Hannah's wagon. What a w^orld of good she will do with 
 it. She took some of her money with her, sewn in her 
 clothes, and gave the rest to my uncle, to be sent her, or 
 laid out as she should order. I marveled much at Han- 
 nah Dana while she was with us; she is as short of speech 
 and as silent as formerly, but a new patience, and com- 
 passionateness, and experience, have grown up in her 
 
362 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 heart, and I noticed that every one listened with careful 
 attention to all that she said, and that she never wasted a 
 word. I said one afternoon to Mr. Reid, as he chanced 
 to be sitting near where I was at work : " Has Hannah 
 Dana changed, or have I altered so much in three years? 
 She appears to me a very different person from what I 
 thought her long ago." Said Richard Reid : " Hannah is 
 one of the noblest natures that God ever made. No one 
 can know her as well as I do, without feeling for her, not 
 merely respect, but reverence. To those who have seen 
 her as I have, rising from the short sleep of stormy win- 
 ter nights, to bend over some sick man's pillow, and com- 
 fort him with words of the future he is winning for his 
 children, or console him with hopes of heaven ; who have 
 seen her, tender as a mother to some dying boy ; who have 
 beheld her brave as a man, in the face of some fever ma- 
 niac ; who have watched her on the field of battle, when 
 balls were flying around her, calmly binding up wounds 
 and giving water to thirsty lips ; who have heard her in 
 the horrors of the night after a conflict, praying for some 
 expiring patriot on the bloody earth ; who have seen her 
 searching for life in the ghastly faces turned up to the sky : 
 to these would Hannah Dana always appear glorified as a 
 saint. Strangers see her a woman prematurely old, weath- 
 er-beaten, gray, plain, abrupt. To those of us to whom she 
 has come, an angel of mercy in the midst of war, she 
 stands in the beauty of self-sacrifice and entire self-for- 
 getting — made on the pattern of her Master, loving not 
 her life unto death." 
 
 Yes, this is Hannah, the true Hannah ; and Richard 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 363 
 
 Reicl, who holds goodness and duty higher than anv 
 thing else, ought to love and admire her. I sat by mv 
 window in the moonlight thinking of it, thinking of hoM* 
 much nobler Hannah's life is than mine ; and while she 
 gives all to her country, J do nothing. Judith came in and 
 asked me why I was crying. I hardly knew that I was crv- 
 ing until she spoke, but I told her what a difference I saw 
 between Hannah and myself. Judith said: "Yes; we can 
 not estimate her work too highly, but remember that God 
 does not call all people to do the same work. He did not 
 make you for the exact kind of Avork that he did her. 
 God makes in his world oak-trees and rose-trees : oaks to 
 be strong and useful, rose-trees to be beautiful and sweet ; 
 each speak alike His wisdom and goodness, each are best 
 in fulfilling His design. There is neither rivalry nor com- 
 parison, if each grows as he made it, just the best of its 
 kind, oak or rose." • 
 
 " But the world needs oaks more than roses," I said. 
 
 " Perhaps not," she replied ; " we do not know how much 
 need the world has of roses. God has made them grow from 
 the Alj)ine snows to the warm valleys of Cashmere." 
 
 I did not tell Judith that there was a thought in my 
 heart that men like Richard Reid care most for useful 
 oaks; and why should I feel sorry for that, if it is so? 
 
 Hannah went off as soon as she had completed her pur- 
 chases. I. think the few days here had done her good, 
 for she looked brighter and stronger. We loaded her with 
 all the presents that we could find, suitable for herself and 
 patients. Forty men were going to join General Wayne. 
 A surgeon was traveling with them, and Hannah went too. 
 
364 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 She drove off in her Avagoii, h)oking pleased as a queen, 
 and Mr. Reid accompanied her for five miles on horse- 
 back. Thomas Otis was the next to leave. The evening 
 before he went we had a long talk about the old home at 
 Plymouth, and the fishing on the bay, the visits to Dame 
 Mercy, and all the merry old times when I think there 
 could have been no trouble in the Avorld. Thomas showed 
 me the lock of my hair, done up in silver paper, in his 
 note-book. I am sorry now that I did not tell him that I 
 thought giving hair was foolish, and that we could remem- 
 ber each other without that token — I feared it would make 
 him feel badly if I said that. Thomas is going to a very 
 dangerous place; I wish he had been sent to West Point. 
 I felt very sorry when he went away, and so did Hester; 
 indeed she felt worse than I did. I suppose she must be 
 more tender-hearted than I am. AYhy did she cry the 
 most? Thomas Otis had not been her friend all her life, 
 catching fish and lobsters with her, and putting up swings 
 for her, and playing keep-house under the hayrick, or on 
 the rocks by the shore. I told myself all these things, 
 and it seemed quite cruel of me not to feel more heart- 
 broken than I did at his going. I hate to be hard-hearted, 
 I am sure. 
 
 After Thomas Otis was gone, my uncle got a letter 
 from Mr. Bowdoin, inclosing one to Bessie, and jjraying 
 him to see that it reached Miss Warlcy, wlaerever she 
 Avas. She is in New York, and not INIiss AVarlcy : so he 
 has not heard of her marriage, poor man. How I wish I 
 had told Thomas Otis, and had bidden him tell ]Mr. Bow- 
 doin all about it, not sparing any thing that would arouse 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 365 
 
 him from his delusion. But I quite forgot Bessie 
 and her wedding while our friends were here. "What 
 would Bessie feel if Mr. Bowdoin were killed by the In- 
 dians ? 
 
 Mr. Reid's business in Philadelphia was concluded, and 
 he went to join General Putnam. He asked me to walk 
 in the garden the evening before he left, and, my mind 
 being full of Bowdoin's letter, and the one uncle had 
 sent on to Bessie, I mentioned Bessie's marriage, but I 
 thought it dishonorable to repeat her conduct to Mr. 
 Bowdoin. Mr. Reid said he felt that this war time was 
 not fit for marrying and giving in marriage. There 
 would be widows and orphans enough as it was to weep 
 over dead soldiers. But if he were living when peace 
 came, he should offer himself to one whom he had loved 
 since his first meeting her at Plymouth. 
 
 Of course I knew that this meant Hannah Dana, so I 
 said, " I hoped she would accept him." And he replied 
 that "he hoped so too," but somehow he did not speak 
 very cordially about it; maybe he thought that I should 
 have felt swre that she would, and not only 'hoped.' 
 Speaking thus, made me think of Judith's remarks, and 
 connecting them with a rose-bush that we were passing, 
 I pulled off a cluster, and presently said, impatiently, that 
 they were useless things, living only in summer and sun- 
 shine; and as I spoke I tossed them out of my hand. 
 Mr. Reid caught them, and said that I valued them too 
 lightly, for that roses spoke of the generous giving of 
 God, who bestows on us more than the things that are 
 for use or for need. I do not know why I said tartly — 
 
36G PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 "Of course roses are necessary to nobody." "This one 
 is to me," said Mr. Reid, and he put one bud in his 
 pocket-book. I stood vexed, divided in my mind 
 between his having the rose and Thomas the lock of my 
 hair — but it means nothing in either case. Before we 
 went in I begged Mr. E,eid to be especially good, if he 
 had opportunity, to Robert Shirtliffe, who had saved my 
 cousin's life, and in event of any danger or trouble to 
 Robert, to write to my uncle. He said that he would do 
 so, and I hope I have procured another friend for poor 
 Deborah, who' is now parted from Hannah. And so, 
 with Mr. Reid's departure, the last of our friends of the 
 army had gone, and we were able to give our attention 
 to what passes in the city. 
 
 Mrs. Bache has come back, and is now living in Dr.. 
 Franklin's house. She was vexed to find her father's 
 portrait taken off, but said things were better than she 
 expected to see them. 
 
 We begin to think that uncle was in the right about 
 General Arnold. His conduct in the city is not giving 
 satisfaction. He is very extravagant, and has already be- 
 gun a style of living that does not suit the poverty of the 
 colonial cause,, nor the sorrows of the present time. It is 
 said that he has shown himself much pleased with Miss 
 Margaret Shippen, one of the Tory ladies, a great belle 
 of the mischianza, and a particular friend of Captain 
 Andre. The general has his quarters in " William Penn's 
 house," on the corner of Second Street and Morris Alley, 
 and he maintains a finer style of living than any one else 
 in the city. He keeps a coach and four, and servants in 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 367 
 
 livery, and has given a splendid banquet already. My 
 uncle was invited but would not go, as he likes not such 
 display when our men are barefoot in winter, and our 
 currency is depreciating to be worth only five cents for 
 a dollar. 
 
 Charles heard it whispered the other day that the gen- 
 eral had lately desired an exchange into the navy, but 
 that the matter had dropped. 
 
 I just now noted the lessening value of our currency; 
 the coming of our army has flooded the city with conti- 
 nental paper worth almost nothing ; prices have risen to 
 fabulous, height. Mistress Bache yesterday declared that 
 a servant who carried a market basket on one arm, must 
 carry an equal basket of money on the other to pay for 
 the filling. 
 
 The reason of this light value of the paper is that there 
 are no taxes ; no central government is able to tax all 
 the colonies, and to be responsible for the redemption of 
 the money issued. There are hopes of foreign loans, but 
 Spain is evidently ill disposed ; the Duke of Tuscany 
 hates us ; the king of Prussia has not declared himself; 
 Russia keeps aloof. We get a little money from France, 
 and Congress can do nothing better than order renewed 
 issues of bills that are only worth the paper they are 
 printed upon. It is from this, our financial distress, that 
 England expects her success. 
 
 This morning I Avent with Judith to the w'idow Ross, 
 
 to see about getting our sideboard mended, and while the 
 
 widow was talking with us she said, pulling open a little 
 
 square drawer, some four inches deep, "See, once I 
 24 
 
368 
 
 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 thought myself doing well if in a day I got the bottom 
 of this covered with silver and gold; but now behold my 
 cash drawer ! " and she pulled open a great bureau drawer, 
 
 with quantities of 
 paper in it, saying, 
 " 'T is hardly w^orth 
 while to lock it up; 
 no one covets the 
 stuff." 
 
 "At this rate you 
 will be ruined," said 
 Judith. 
 
 "Well," said wid- 
 ow Ross cheerfully, 
 " our children will 
 rise to prosperity on 
 our ruin ; we can 
 afford to be sacrificed 
 
 i^0m 
 
 GENERAL FRANCIS MARION. 
 
 to obtain a grand future for our country. Sorrow before 
 success." 
 
 September 30, 1778. 
 
 The chief movement in the North this summer was that 
 for the re-conquest of Rhode Island; storms and mis- 
 understandings put the Colonial forces on shore, and the 
 French fleet at cross purposes. The attempt failed with 
 loss on our side. The French have gone to the West 
 Indies. La Fayette has been sent to the Mohawk Valley. 
 
 In the South we have indications of an attack ujion 
 Georgia, South Carolina, and Florida. The Southern 
 delegates have requested that Major-General Lincoln be 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 369 
 
 sent to their department. It is said that Count Pulaski, 
 our brave Polish helper, will go there also. They have 
 such men as Pinckney, Marion, Mcintosh, Pickens, and 
 James Jackson, and surely in the end such patriots and 
 heroes must win the day. 
 
 In the Jerseys there have been many surprises and 
 skirmishes accompanied with sad loss of life. Hannah 
 Dana must have her hands full of work ; my uncle once 
 sent her some stores. I had a letter from Bessie. She 
 told me a deal about the gayeties of New York, of the 
 dances, plays, and gaming. She said she was sometimes 
 very lonely, as there were days when she never saw the 
 Major or her father ; again there were days crowded with 
 engagements until she was tired to death. She did not feel 
 very well; wished she could go to England; sometimes 
 wished she were back in Philadelphia or Boston ; wished 
 she could see Mistress Seaforth and me. Bessie's letters 
 are all tvishes; some more wishes were in the postscript, 
 which meant more to me than all the rest of her letter. 
 Bessie said she had received uncle's inclosure from Mr. 
 Bowdoin. "Why," she said, "did things always happen 
 wrong; she thought this world very unsatisfactory. She 
 wished Mr. Bowdoin had been a captain, or major, or 
 colonel in the British army. "Why was he only a parson 
 on the weaker side? Or, if he must be a rebel, why 
 was he not a dashing General like Arnold, a Marquis 
 like La Fayette, a brilliant cavalier like Lighthorse 
 Harry. She wished things had been different, and she 
 wished those goods for which she had sent to Nantes 
 by Uncle Matthew would arrive." Well, one at least of 
 
370 PATRIOT AND TORY : 
 
 unsatisfied Bessie's wishes can be gratified — the parcels 
 from Nantes came safely, the very day when I received 
 the letter, and within a week we were able to forward 
 them to New York. I hope they will cheer her up, she 
 is evidently unhappy. 
 
 This very day I had a curious meeting in the street. 
 I went with Susannah on an errand toward the upper 
 end of the city, and saw Dr. Binney's small carriage and 
 his pretty orphan niece driving it, with an invalid young 
 man by her side, supported by a pillow. When we 
 bowed, she drew up near the sidewalk, saying : " My 
 uncle has brought one of his soldier patients home, and 
 I am taking him out for a drive." The patient's eyes 
 were closed as he leaned back on his pillow, his head had 
 been shaved, and was covered by a close cap of black 
 velvet, but there was something singularly familiar in the 
 pale face; and as the eyes unclosed I once more recog- 
 nized — Deborah Samson ! I could not restrain an excla- 
 mation of astonishment, and to cover it, cried: "What, 
 Robert! wounded again?" then I added to the lady — 
 "This is the soldier who, as you may have heard, once 
 saved the life of my cousin Charles ; he also came from 
 Plymouth." At these words, Susannah rejoiced to see 
 her brother's preserver, declared that we should have had 
 the privilege of nursing him. The invalid seemed much 
 overcome. "Oh, me!" cried the fair nurse, "this is the 
 first outing, and my uncle will be so angry if our pa- 
 tient gets worse— I must drive home, he is becoming 
 excited." 
 
 I called out, " Be sure and send me word how soon 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 371 
 
 Dr. Binney will allow me, an old friend, to call. Do not 
 forget." 
 
 And so promising to send me permission for the visit 
 they went away. I am in a sad state of anxiety to get to 
 Deborah, she may need my help. She looked dreadfully. 
 
 December 25, 1778. 
 
 This is the Christ-day ; the day when angels sang of 
 peace and good will to men. I wish such a strain would 
 break over this unhappy land. There are many troubles 
 to tell of, but I begin about Deborah Samson. After 
 several days I had a note from Dr. Binney himself, say- 
 ing that his soldier, Shirtliflfe, had been worse, and that as 
 soon as he was able to see me I might come. It was 
 nearly the last of October before I was sent for. Uncle 
 bade me bring the patient back with me, if the Doctor 
 thought proper. I saw Robert alone, not looking quite 
 so pale, and hair grown somewhat. The trouble this time 
 was brain fever. Many of the men around West Point 
 Avere taken with this disease. When Deborah first felt 
 the symptoms, she suffered beyond expression, most of all 
 with apprehension of discovery. Xo Hannah was near 
 to shield her. She felt tempted to go and throw herself 
 into the river, as she felt that she would only die at the 
 most, and by drowning herself she could keep her secret. 
 She said only the memory of my grandfather's teachings 
 saved her from suicide. 
 
 As she lay under the shelter of a tree, feeling too pros- 
 trated to do duty. Captain Richard Reid, who had several 
 times been kind to her, came up, saying : " Why, Bob, 
 are you also sick? "and then felt her pulse, and inquired 
 
372 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 into her symptoms. He saw that brain fever was ap- 
 proaching, and having called the doctor, and administered 
 some remedies, he proposed that " Shirtlifife " should be 
 sent with some invalids and convalescents, who were that 
 day to start in a wagon-train for a hospital, within twenty 
 miles of Philadelphia. This was agreed to, and Robert 
 was removed with the others. This hospital was under 
 charge of Doctor Binney. Deborah has not the least 
 recollection of reaching it, aor of what occurred after she 
 came there, until, opening her eyes in a return of con- 
 sciousness, she heard one say : " Here is poor Bob come 
 to life ; wc thought he had gone, and he might have been 
 buried but for the doctor." At these words, flashed into 
 her mind the strange thought that she was not yet dis- 
 covered ! Presently some nourishment was put into her 
 mouth, and she thinks she slept soundly all night. What 
 seemed the next morning came, and she was again given 
 food and medicine, but treated as one unconscious or 
 crazed by the nurses who spoke of and not to her, and 
 she heard one say : " No one but the doctor is to touch 
 Bob ; Bob is his favorite." Finally Doctor Binney came, 
 spoke kindly, bathed her head, arranged her pillow, and 
 said that when enough improvement was made "Robert" 
 should go to his house for nursing. 
 
 Thus about the 21st of September, Deborah w^as re- 
 moved to the doctor's house in Philadelphia, given a 
 good room, good care, a new suit of clothes; the doctor's 
 niece made the patient's shirts, read, sung, took Robert 
 out to ride, and every one accepted her as Robert Shirt- 
 liffe, soldier. Deborah told me she had Avatched the doc- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 373 
 
 tor's every look, tone, word, to ascertain if he had fonud 
 out her deception. She thought he must have done so, 
 yet he gave no sign. After meeting me and Susannah 
 she became worse, but was now speedily recovering. She 
 had said to the doctor : " It is time for me to rejoin my 
 regiment;" and he had replied, " I must keep you here 
 until your recovery is perfect." 
 
 I told Deborah to wait with patience for further de- 
 velopments, and if any fresh anxiety or trouble came to 
 her, to apply to me. I should never whisper her secret to 
 any one, without her permission; but she might rely on 
 my uncle's being her good friend in any event. But 
 again, as often before, I begged her to give up her soldier 
 life. She replied, never while she might so serve her 
 country in perfect secret. If a soul suspected her dis- 
 guise she would fly at once. I have called on her once 
 since then, accompanied by my cousins, and all remains 
 the same. 
 
 AVe have had terrible news from Cherry Valley, about 
 as dreadful as that from Wyoming. The settlement is 
 entirely destroyed ; women and children were murdered, 
 houses were burned. Colonel Campbell's family have 
 been carried oif, and no one knows where they are, if 
 they are yet living. Mistress Campbell's mother was aged 
 and feeble, and the youngest child was but a year and a 
 half old — no one knows what has become of these cap- 
 tives. I had a letter from Thomas Otis, and he tells me 
 that in a skirmish with British and Indians, Isaiah 
 Hooper was captured, and he fears has been tortured to 
 death, I have written to Mistress Hooper to soften the 
 
374 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 sad story as much as possible, telling her that her hus- 
 band has been made prisoner in the North, and that I 
 hope he will escape or be exchanged. It will be a 
 dreary winter for her, knowing how terribly he suffered 
 
 INDIAN JIASSACRE IN CHEERY VALLEY. 
 
 in his former captivity. General McDougall is now in 
 command at the Highlands. General Washington has 
 extended his troops in a strong line fron^ the Sound to 
 the Delaware, and has established his head-quarters near 
 Middlebrook in the Jerseys. 
 
 February 6, 1779. 
 
 Yesterday morning I had a letter from Dame Warren. 
 She is with Lady Washington in the camp at INIiddle- 
 brook; so are Mistress Greene, Mistress Knox, and other 
 notable ladies. The officers intend to celebrate the first 
 anniversary of the alliance with France with as much 
 splendor as possible ; but the festivity is put off until the 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 375 
 
 eighteenth, because of General AYashington's absence, he 
 being here in the city. I woukl he remained here all the 
 time, so might he hold General Arnold in check. Ar- 
 nold is now to be married to Miss Margaret Shippen, and 
 he is now continually surrounded by her Tory friends. 
 Not that I dislike honest Tories, they must do as they 
 think proper, but they are enemies of our cause, and one 
 of our foremost generals should not be taking them for 
 friends in preference to Patriots. Indeed, even last 
 month, people in speaking of him, said that he was a part 
 Tory, and should be discharged. The tyranny of this 
 man is worse than that of Lord Howe. He is perfectly 
 extravagant, and takes shameful means to replenish his 
 purse. Under pretense of supplying the army, he forbids 
 the shop-keepers to sell or buy ; then he puts all goods at 
 the disposal of his agents, and they make enormous 
 profits on them, and share plunder with him. My uncle 
 being one who would not connive at such doings, his 
 warehouses are now keeping a sort of Sabbath all the 
 week. There is nothing doing at them. One thing lean 
 say for General Arnold, when my uncle went to him for 
 protection for Mr. Seaforth's family and property, he got 
 it readily — that was kind. 
 
 The people of Pennsylvania and the city of Philadel- 
 phia are furious at Arnold, and the council will probably 
 prepare charges against him. My uncle says there may 
 be some excuse for him, as he has been soured by neg- 
 lect and unkind treatment, when his great bravery de- 
 manded high recognition. General Washington felt that 
 Arnold had not met due kindness; but from what I learn 
 
376 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 he must always have been cruel, hasty, selfish, and ex- 
 travagant. General Washington has had a thousand 
 times Arnold's provocations, and no one ever heard of 
 his becoming angry or embittered toward his country by 
 it. Then Arnold has had a good mother, and his first 
 Avife was a most noble woman ; so Dame Warren told me 
 long ago. 
 
 But this brings me back to Dame Warren's letter. 
 She desired me to come to camp and visit her, and be 
 present at the f^te. She kindly said that she loved riie 
 for my grand-parents' sake, and that she would see me 
 again, in memory of old Plymouth days; and she added 
 a postscript to my uncle, begging him to bring her young 
 country-woman to visit her. My uncle kindly consented, 
 and to-morrow Ave are to set forth. My uncle has some 
 business in camp, and, wonder of wonders, we are to ride 
 in the general's retinue, as he returns to Middlebrook. 
 My uncle has to-day had my roan's saddle re-furbished, 
 and Judith lent me her best riding habit and the new 
 hat that came from Nantes. Susannah and Hester and I 
 have been busy to-day, preparing a dress suitable for me 
 to wear at the festa. I hope to have a grand visit. 
 
 March 3, 1779. 
 
 So the visit is over, and I am back to write about it. 
 We set forth in style, Peter riding behind us with our 
 baggage. We joined the general's troop five miles from 
 town. Our journey was delightful. My uncle rode by 
 the general several times, and had some conversation 
 with him. The general says that the alliance with 
 France is paralyzing our energies by begetting a false 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 377 
 
 feeling of security ; dissensions and party feuds in Con- 
 gress are harming us more than do our foes, and he 
 thinks the States too busy in local concerns, and too 
 careless of the Central Government. The best men are 
 not in Congress, and the land suffers for want of their 
 guidance. The general most of all deplores the dissipa- 
 tion and extravagance of the times. He says the revelrv 
 in Philadelphia cut him to the heart when he thought 
 how the soldiers are unpaid and unprovided, and true 
 patriots are sinking into ruin. To this country the 
 general stands as a father, and how is his great heart 
 burdened when he sees the folly and idleness of some 
 of his children, the hopeless sufferings of others, and the 
 approaching financial ruin of the household! He mourns 
 that we are so lacking in honest republican simplicity. 
 
 Would that all the nation followed the example set 
 them by General and Lady Washington ! My uncle did 
 not wish to intrude upon the general too long. He told 
 me of all these things when he fell back and rode beside 
 me in the rear of our cavalcade. 
 
378 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 March 5, 1779. 
 TITE had remarkably good weather and firm roads for 
 ' ' our journey. The fine weather continued fiar our fi^rt- 
 nighi's absence from home, so that we had only two 
 stormy days. We left camp on the 20th of February, 
 and reached home the next day. "We found the army 
 in their winter-quarters, hutted as last year, but the huts 
 were better, the interstices filled with sod and clay, and 
 the officer's cabins having separate kitchens. The huts also 
 had better floors. The camp presented a very good ap- 
 pearance, like a regular, clean, and compact village. 
 The soldiers were better clad, better armed, fed, ai^id 
 drilled than last winter, and they looked healthier and 
 more cheerful. Baron Steuben had his quarters at Mr. 
 Staat's house. The Baron is as active and faithful as 
 last year, and has less trouble, as now the men un- 
 derstand him better, and see the value of his drill, and 
 he knows more of our language. The Baron's grand, 
 dignified manners, his urbane treatment of every one, 
 and his elegant dress, impress all who meet him, and 
 all feel the debt we owe to the noted warrior, who left 
 honors and ease to become drill-master for our forlorn 
 cause. He begins now to see the success that looked 
 nearly impossible a year ago. At head-quarters I found 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 379 
 
 Dame Warren as guest of Lady Washington. There 
 were a number of other ladies at camp. My friends 
 are more scattered than last winter ; indeed, none that 
 I knew were near us. Hannah Dana and Mr. Reid 
 were at Pluckemin, where the artillery lies. Joseph 
 Dana was there also. 
 
 The second day after our arrival, my uncle, who has 
 been engaged of late in getting in foreign supplies for 
 the army, had business with General Washington. They 
 had nearly concluded, when Uncle John dropped his 
 glasses and broke them. This left him quite helpless, 
 and he called for me to read his papers for him, and 
 make the needful notes on the margins. I. am ac- 
 customed at home to help him in this way, and he 
 thought no one could do it so well. After about an 
 hour, some question arose, and finally my uncle and 
 one of the general's aids said they would step over to 
 the quartermaster's to settle it. This left me by my 
 desk in the corner, alone with the general, except for 
 an attendant, Avho stood by a window. The general 
 was writing busily, when a knock came and some one 
 entered. I stole a look — weary of staring at figures — 
 and there was Robert ShirtUffe, a promising looking 
 young soldier, health restored, hair grown ! Said Rob- 
 ert bowed low, and handed a large letter to the gen- 
 eral, but trembled, flushed, and looked in an agony of 
 apprehension. 
 
 Our good general, pitying this excessive embarrassment 
 in his presence, kindly bid his idle attendant to take the 
 soldier to the kitchen for refreshment. I saw that some 
 
380 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 terrible crisis in Deborah's life had come. I recalled her 
 fortitude, her sufferings, her lonely, bereft life. If I could 
 comfort her in trouble, I should do so. I forgot my awe, 
 and said, after the attendant had conducted her from the 
 room: "Your Excellency, I know that soldier; may I go 
 and speak to him?" 
 
 The general was just breaking the seal of the letter. 
 He glanced at me, a little surprised, rather severely, and 
 bowed. 
 
 I found Deborah seated in the general's kitchen — a 
 cup of coffee and a plate of bread and meat before her. 
 I whispered, "What is the matter now, Deborah?" 
 
 "I do not know, but I think, I fear, that I am dis- 
 covered." 
 
 "Keep up your courage," I said. "I will return where 
 I was, and will stand your friend." So I ran back to my 
 uncle's paper, and began a vigorous scratching with my 
 pen. The general had two letters in his hand and was 
 reading them with an immovable countenance. At last 
 he began to write, and after a moment or two of that, I 
 heard him open a drawer, and handle some money. I 
 dared not move my head. And then Deborah — soldier 
 Robert — came back, saluted, and stood crimson, with 
 downcast eyes. The general motioned dismissal to the at- 
 tendant. We three were alone. The room seemed terri- 
 bly still. The general handed a paper to the trembling 
 soldier. I heard Deborah choke down a sob as the paper 
 rustled in her hand. Then she bent her head, and her 
 eyes overflowed. He then gave her some coins and a let- 
 ter, in perfect silence, and motioned that she might with- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 381 
 
 draw. As she turned I could not refrain from giving 
 him an imploring look. I saw that he assented to my 
 speaking with her, and so followed her into the hall. 
 
 "Deborah!" I said, catching her arm, "promise me that 
 you will not serve again ! " 
 
 "Never," she replied, in a trembling voice. 
 
 "And tell me where you will go." 
 
 She hesitated, then said: 
 
 " To Isaiah Hooper's. If I can not be a soldier, I can 
 preserve a soldier's family and home. I shall there be 
 welcomed and unquestioned. Good-bye." 
 
 I returned to the desk. The general leaned back in 
 his arm-chair, in a stern sort of reverie. I felt that at 
 the bar of his judgment poor Deborah, guiltless of all but 
 too, rash a patriotism, was standing condemned. All her 
 life she had been desolate and misunderstood, and now he 
 would judge her severely, and her cause was unheard. I 
 could not bear the thought. I stood behind my chair, 
 and looking firmly toward him, I said: "Your Excellency, 
 I have known this Deborah Samson for many years; and 
 then forgetting my awe of him — forgetting all things but 
 my compassion for Deborah — I hastily told him of the 
 neglected child, painfully gathering up knowledge from 
 passing children ; of the indomitable courage of the young 
 woman ; of the loneliness, self-sacrifice, fearlessness of the 
 soldier ; of my cousin's saved life ; of wounds, and escapes, 
 and of her falling into Dr. Binney's hands. Suddenly, as 
 I told this story, I became conscious that the general 
 was regarding me with that paternal, indulgent, approv- 
 ing look, that my grandfather's face wore long ago when 
 
382 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 I stood by his study-table in Plymouth saying ray les- 
 sons unusually well. I faltered, blushed — a consciousness 
 of my temerity rushed upon me. Said the general : 
 " Would that all who err in head or heart might have so 
 generous, so earnest an advocate." Then he asked me her 
 true name, and where she was going; and when I told 
 him, he made a note in a book. I then returned to my 
 uncle's papers, and in a few minutes he came in, and 
 when I had written for him a little longer, he sent me to 
 Dame Warren. I am glad that Deborah is out of the 
 army ; her being there was truly an error of the head. I 
 shall never tell my uncle the story, unless it first reaches 
 him by some other means; lest he esteem Deborah Sam- 
 son less than Robert Shirtliffe. 
 
 My uncle took me to Pluckemin for three days to visit 
 Hannah. She is better off than last year, there are less 
 unhelped sufferings to tear her heart, but Hannah looks 
 sadly worn. She said the fur cloak, which Judith sent 
 her, had been of great use in cold days and nights. 
 Richard Reid is very devoted to helping her, and she 
 told me but for him she would have sunk under discour- 
 agements long ago. Mr. Reid returned with us to head- 
 quarters, and remained two days. After he had gone, 
 Mistress Warren told me that if he lives until peace is 
 declared and the army disbanded, he means to conclude 
 his reading for the ministry and take a congregation. 
 
 Well, I think Hannah Dana would make a very good 
 minister's wife. It is what my grandmother said that she 
 was suited for. Dame Warren said to me, "When that 
 time comes he will want a wife." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 383 
 
 " Yes, surely," saicl I. 
 
 "And he now has one in his mind, whom he will ask," 
 said she, "if before then she does not love another." 
 
 "There is no danger," I said, for surely Hannah Dana 
 would not think of taking one less worthy when she 
 might have Richard Reid. 
 
 "And you fancy that she will have him?" asked the 
 Dame. 
 
 "Oh, I am sure of it," I said. 
 
 "Perhaps you do not know \vho.she is," said she. 
 
 "Perhaps not, but I think I have a guess," I re- 
 plied. 
 
 " I think you have not," she answered, laughing ; but 
 she does not know how Mr. Peid spoke to me about 
 Hannah. 
 
 The second day of Mr. Peid's visit, I went out to walk 
 with him at the outer edge of the encampment, and we 
 saw the soldiers crowding about a small cart where a 
 man was selling apples. They were poor apples, and he 
 wanted a continental dollar apiece for them. 
 
 "Apples at a dollar each!" cried Pichard Peid, "what 
 Avould my father have thought of that, Avhen his orchards 
 were loaded with fruit?" but my eyes were fixed on the 
 fruit-seller. I was sure that I had seen him before, in 
 spite of the changes again made in his dress. I felt con- 
 vinced that it was Brown, the spy. 
 
 I said, "I must go back to my uncle!" Richard ob- 
 jected, but I insisted. I dared not tell him what T sus- 
 pected, suppose I should be wrong. And then if this 
 
 .was indeed Brown, and he should be arrested, what then? 
 25 
 
384 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 I .'shivered at the thought of causing his death, but evi- 
 dently it was my duty to tell my uncle. 
 
 We found Uncle John at last, and when he heard my 
 news, he hurried off. I went to Dame Mercy Warren, 
 and sat Avishing that I had never seen Brown. When 
 about two hours after, my uncle came in saying that the 
 man truly Avas Brown, and was captured, I felt so badly 
 that I could not eat my supper nor sleep. Mr. Reid 
 came to bid me " Good-bye." I said, " Oh, I wish I 
 could let Brown out, he has a wife and children." 
 
 "But consider the harm he might do. It is thought 
 that he led the party that found Baylor's dragoons, and 
 slaughtered them." 
 
 " Then he will surely be hung," said I, " and I will 
 always feel that I caused it. Oh, I Avish I had remained 
 at home in Philadelphia." I meditated begging the gen- 
 eral to have Brown imprisoned until the end of the war, 
 or sent to England, and so I tossed about all night in 
 wretchedness, not repenting that I had done my duty, yet 
 half wishing I might undo it. I had my trouble for 
 nothing, for the next morning Brown had escaped, no one 
 knew how; and then thinking what mischief he might do, 
 I was sorry that he had gone! What Avorrying times 
 war times are. I wish some one would catch Brown, and 
 I not know any thing about it. 
 
 Well, the fete put all these troublesome thoughts from 
 my mind. The people from far and near came to witness 
 the display of fire-works and illuminations. I wish that 
 the Marquis La Fayette had been here to see, but he has 
 returned to France to his family. He is coming back if 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 385 
 
 there is more fighting. The celebration began at four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, with a discharge of thirteen can- 
 non. There was then a dinner, for an invited company. I 
 was among the guests, on account of my uncle and Dame 
 \Yarren, I sup- 
 pose. Richard 
 Reid was of the 
 company. H e 
 is the one officer 
 to whom it docs 
 not seem natural 
 for me to say 
 Captain, or oth- 
 erwise give his 
 title. I suppose 
 because I first 
 met him as plain 
 3Ir. Reid. The 
 ladies at the din- 
 ner looked very 
 grand, especially 
 Lady Washing- 
 ton, Mrs. Knox 
 and Dame War- 
 ren. I had a blue brocade dress, over a white satin petti- 
 coat, and I wore my mother's lace and pearls. In the 
 evening we had displays of illuminated pictures, mottoes, 
 and fire-works, and after that there was a ball. I stopped 
 for awhile to see the dancing. The general opened the 
 
 RETURN OF LA FAYETTE TO FRANCE. 
 
386 PATRIOT AXD TOBY: 
 
 ball Avith Mrs. Knox. It was very grand, and the music 
 was delightful. 
 
 The day but one after the festival my uncle and I 
 came home. We found that while we were gone letters 
 had come from Colonel Nelson and Captain Seaforth, 
 and that Mrs. Logan had been to visit Judith, and had 
 taken Hester home with her. Judith and Mrs. Bache 
 are as usual busy for our soldiers, and especially for the 
 sick and wounded who are sent into the city. The 
 Council of Pennsylvania have preferred charges against 
 General Arnold, and he is to be tried by court-martial. 
 
 July 20, 1779. 
 
 Another long break in my journal, but I have been 
 w'here I could not carry these papers, and could only jot 
 down a line or so in my note-book. A dreary time in- 
 deed has it been to me. I had, about the end of JNfarch, 
 a letter from Bessie, written in very low spirits. She 
 said that she was sick and unhappy; that she often saw 
 neither her father nor husband for days together. The 
 2d of April I received another letter, feebly and irregu- 
 larly written, saying that she was very ill, and thought 
 she was going to die. She had no friends, only careless 
 servants to attend on her. She had not so much as a 
 Bible. She begged me to come and stay with her until 
 she died. To this letter her father added a line, entreat- 
 ing me to come, saying that he thought Bessie would 
 drop off in a consumption, as her mother had done, and 
 inclosing a pass, which Major Banks had procured for 
 me to enter the city. Mr. Warley said that Bessie was 
 now in the house of an excellent Quaker lady, who would 
 
ONE HUNDEED YEARS AGO. 387 
 
 be very kind to me, and that there ^vcre no officers nor 
 strangers in the house with her. My uncle, after long 
 deliberation, felt it his duty to allow me to go, and as he 
 would not have me unattended in the city, he decided 
 that Nervey was to go with me. A small ship with a 
 flag of truce had come up the Delaware to exchange 
 prisoners, and on this I went to New York. We had 
 fair weather and a quick passage. 
 
 The commissioners who came last year from England 
 were enthusiastic in their praises of this country, its 
 mighty rivers, and magnificent prospects. I do not 
 wonder at this, when they had just sailed up the Del- 
 aware. The broad river; the fertile, low-lying shores; 
 the wide plains; the white, peaceful villages; and the 
 noble forests, offer pictures of unparalleled beauty. As 
 long as daylight lasted, I remained on deck, watching 
 the varied scenery of the shores, and the ships, and fish- 
 ing-boats upon the river, and here and there the dark 
 mass of a frigate, and I wished the day would be as long 
 as that wherein Joshua warred with the five kings, that I 
 might longer enjoy prospects so new and fair. But 
 though day departed, we almost realized the promise for 
 the heavenly land — " There shall be no night ; " for as the 
 sun sunk below the horizon, a broad full moon filled the 
 air with a subdued splendor. The ships and the shores 
 were still visible, and I was so fascinated with the spectacle 
 that I would not go below. So poor Xervey, Avho has no 
 taste for fine scenery, wrapped her shawl o^ver her head, 
 and lay down on the deck at my feet to sleep. 
 
 Around the deck were scattered groups of exchanged 
 
388 PATRIOT AND TORY : 
 
 prisoners. They looked as if they had been well cared 
 for, whicli is more than can be said of those who were ex- 
 changed for them. One of these prisoners was an officer, 
 and his wife had come to meet him. The two sat at the 
 bow of the ship, clasping each other's hands, and enjoying 
 in silence their restored happiness. Another soldier was a 
 mere boy ; his arm was in a sling ; his mother had come 
 for him, and he lay on the deck sleeping, with his head in 
 her lap, while she, seated on a coil of rope, was too glad 
 to pass in sleep the hours which assured her of the safety 
 of her son. 
 
 AVe found the noble harbor of New York filled with 
 English ships, men-of-war, and merchant vessels. Truly 
 New York is a very wonderful city, as big and noisy as 
 Boston and Philadelphia put together. I do not know 
 whether I had most dreaded having Mr. AVarley or Major 
 Banks come and meet me, two men whom I detest ; how- 
 ever, they both came, and truly they were very kind. They 
 had brought a little carriage, and they put me and Ner- 
 vey and my trunk therein. They said Bessie was very 
 poorly, and most anxious to see me. 
 
 I was glad to find that the house where she was lods;- 
 ing was in a quiet, retired street, and the good Quaker 
 lady, who owns it, welcomed me kindly. Her name was 
 Mistress White. It seems my fate to be with Quaker 
 ladies while I wait on the sick. At Trenton, Valley Forge 
 and New York T have been in their houses. INIistress 
 AVhite took me into her parlor to lay off my hat and 
 cloak, while Major Banks went to tell Bessie of my ar- 
 rival. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 389 
 
 Mistress "White said : " I am glad thee has come ; that 
 young thing needs a friend to comfort her ; young avo- 
 men, who live on this world's follies, have sore need of 
 comforters when they are laid by in a sick room. What 
 is called natural affection is a poor thing without godli- 
 ness. Thee has. the face of one who knows the power 
 of the Avorld to come ; and perhaps thee can teach that 
 ygung thing up stairs that when father and husband for- 
 sake, the Lord can take her np." 
 
 Poor Bessie, is she so lonely as to be termed forsaken f 
 
 I left Nervey to arrange the little room assigned me, 
 where a pallet had been made for her at the foot of my 
 bed, and I followed Mistress White up to see Bessie. The 
 poor, dear girl looked very ill; her eyes were hollow, her 
 hands wasted, her cheeks feverish. She also looked 
 poorly taken care of, her cap and gown were tumbled, 
 her bed disordered, the light from the window fell broadly 
 across her eyes. Major Banks was lounging in an easy 
 chair by the dressing table, drinking brandy from a flask 
 standing there, and eating bits out of a rich cake, which 
 lay on a towel upon a chair. 
 
 He said to me, "Bessie's maid went off yesterday; she 
 was such a thief we could not keep her. The Quaker 
 woman is too busy to do much, but I'll look np another 
 maid as soon as I can find one, who only steals small 
 things, and does not get more than moderately drunk." 
 
 The prospect of having a Avoman of Major Banks's se- 
 lection, thievish and drunken, always near me, was so 
 frightful that I said, " Pray do not get any one until I see 
 if Nervey and I can not do alone." 
 
390 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 He seemed well .pleased at the suggestion. Presently 
 he rose, saying: "Well! glad you've come. You'll get 
 better now, Bess ; and I sha'n't hear so much about neg- 
 lect, and lonesome, and all that fol-de-rol." 
 
 ''It did not trouble you," snapped Bessie; "you have 
 not been here since day before yesterday." 
 
 He muttered something about "sickness being a con- 
 founded bore," "no time," "drill," " peace of life," and 
 so on; and then telling me, more civilly, that he "hoped 
 I'd soon bring my patient round, guessed she only had 
 the megrims," he departed, his sabre and spurs clanking 
 loudly on the stairs. ^ 
 
 Bessie clung to my hand and cried, and said I was 
 "too. good" to come. She "wanted to die in my arms," 
 and that she was " perfectly wretched, and believed that 
 both her father and the major wanted to get rid of her." 
 She was evidently ill of a low fever, aggravated by un- 
 happiness and no care. I found that she- had not been 
 out of bed nor bathed for three days, and that her morn- 
 ing's food had been cake and brandy. I only wonder 
 she was not dead. 
 
 I said to her plainly — for I know she needs decided 
 dealing with — "Xow, Bessie, I'll stay and nurse you; 
 cure you if I can, if you will do as I say; but mind, I 
 rule here, and if you do not let me do as I wish, I shall 
 leave." 
 
 " I '11 do any thing to have you stay," said poor Bessie. 
 
 I called Nervey to bathe and dress Bessie, make the 
 bed, and set the room tidy. I cleared out the wine and 
 brandy, the cake, sweetmeats, and medicine; brought in 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 39 1 
 
 fresh air, shaded the windows, sent for a bouquet, and 
 borrowed from Mistress White a cage with sonic pretty 
 birds in it; Then I comforted Bessie by looking over 
 her boxes and wardrobes to see what the late " viaid " 
 had left. Poor Bessie, so ill, so unhappy, and yet so fe- 
 verishly anxious to know how many laces, jewels, and 
 nick-nacks she had remainins; ! 
 
 Among other acts of authority, I refused admission to 
 all Bessie's acquaintances, allowing only her flither and the 
 major to come to her room. They, for decency's sake, 
 and, perhaps because the apartment was now less' for- 
 bidding, and Bessie less morbid and querulous, began to 
 call once a day. I encouraged the good Mistress White 
 to come and sit with us for half hours, as she had 
 time, for her converse was wise, pious, and restful ; and I 
 hoped it would do ray cousin good. I would not allow 
 Bessie to talk of .her late dissipations, of scenes of ex- 
 citement, of the delinquencies of her husband ; but I 
 often talked with her of Plymouth, of old times, of my 
 uncle's family, and our home life. I sung to her a great 
 deal, usually the hymns which my grandfather had 
 loved ; sometimes, for {^ change, the songs which I had 
 caught by hearing Colonel Nelson and Susannah prac- 
 ticing together. 
 
 I had brought a few books with me, and found a few 
 others in Mistress White's possession, and from these I 
 read to Bessie each day, beginning with the Bible. I do 
 not think she cared much for it, but she accepted it 
 quietly, and seemed to take some consolation in thinking 
 that "it was the right thing to do." I often puzzle over 
 
392 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 the various ways in whicli people receive the Bible : some 
 take it as a medicine or as sick diet — tasteless but needful. 
 Others can say ^yith David, " I have esteemed Thy word 
 more than my necessary food." Always in that blessed 
 old home in Plymouth I saw the Book of God the 
 daily food of my grand-parents — feeding on Ayhich their 
 souls grew, like the child Christ, in wisdom and stature, 
 and in favor with God and man. 
 
 Nervey and I continued to be Bessie's only nurses and 
 attendants. From the first few days of my visit, the 
 army surgeon, who called on her, expressed more favor- 
 able opinions of her case than he had previously done. 
 He said care, comforting, and nerve-rest were what she 
 wanted. I did not forget the promises I made to uncle 
 and Judith, and each day exercised in Dame White's 
 garden, or went out to walk with her. So with that, and 
 good food, and early hours, I kept my health. 
 
 Captain Seaforth, Colonel Nelson, and Major Andre 
 called upon me. Henry was particularly good to me, and 
 took me out several times, but in the third week of my 
 visit he was sent South, and I did not see him again. 
 Colonel Nelson could not hear enough about Susannah. 
 He is as enthusiastic about her as ever. He brought me 
 a charming letter from his mother to read ; it gave me a 
 most favorable impression of all his family. 
 
 His mother said that she, like the great majority of 
 the English people, longed only for peace to be made, 
 that the armies might return home. It was a bitter 
 thought to her that her only son Ayas absent from her, 
 exposed to death, and to all the evils of a camp ; not for 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 393 
 
 winning honorable laurels for his king; not to uphold 
 justice in the world; but to fight against a kindred peo- 
 ple, in a cause that, at best, was doubtful. She said he 
 was doing his bounden duty as a soldier, and she trusted 
 that he would be brave, honorable, and merciful in war; 
 but desired that the war might have a speedy termina- 
 tion. She also prayed God, that if he truly and ardently 
 loved " his licautiful American," it might be his happi- 
 ness to return home with her, and that any one that he 
 loved would be sure to receive the tenderest of welcomes 
 from his mother. 
 
 She added on behalf of his uncle, whose heir he is, 
 that he was so anxious to have him marry and settle on 
 the estate, that if he would but sell his commission, and 
 bring home the wife of his choice, she would, with all 
 honor, be installed mistress of the mansion. She said 
 that his sister was sure that if Miss Temple " excelled all 
 women whomever he had seen," she must be a marvel- 
 ous paragon, for he had seen many charming ladies, both 
 at home and abroad. 
 
 Indeed, in the whole letter, there was such a tenderness, 
 simplicity, and sincerity, that I was greatly delighted, and 
 exclaimed, 
 
 "How pleased my uncle would be with such a letter." 
 
 Involuntarily he half returned it to me, then checked 
 himself, as unwilling to use his mother's letter in his ow^n 
 behalf, said : 
 
 "But you — " and again his delicacy checked him, in 
 suo-crestinp; the conferring of a favor. 
 
 I said : " I can tell him about it, with your permission." 
 
394 P-'^ TRIO T AND 1 OR Y: 
 
 " Thauk you ! " he cried, greatly pleased, and added : 
 " If Susannah makes me the happiest of mortals, by going 
 home with me, you must add to our happiness by visiting 
 us. It will not do for her to think that she would be 
 quite separated from her friends and family." 
 
 This put the idea of parting with my dearest Susan- 
 nah before me in a i)ainful]y clear light, but the sug- 
 gestion of my ever visiting that glorious and storied 
 home-land was delightful. 
 
 I spoke of Susannah and the colonel to Bessie that 
 evening. She said, pettishly : 
 
 "Yes, Susannah .has wondrous luck; what marvel if 
 the colonel holds out so well as he has begun ! " Then 
 she told me that Major Banks never seemed to get any 
 letters from England; never allowed her to see any that 
 came; never gave her any messages from his friends, and 
 was angry if she spoke of the possibility of their going 
 to England. She cried, and declared that she " would not 
 be surprised if he ran off to England and left her, and 
 that he cared for nobody." 
 
 I tried to calm and comfort her. A day or two after 
 she happened to' tell me that she had answered the letter 
 from Mr. Bowdoin that my uncle had sent her, and that 
 she had received another to her father's care, and had an- 
 swered that. 
 
 I cried in amaze : " Surely, Bessie ! you have never 
 concealed your marriage." 
 
 She looked embarrassed — then said: "Why not? He 
 would not answer me else; and it would be unkind to 
 hurt his feelings by telling him such news." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 395 
 
 " And why do you want to hear from him, Bessie?" 
 
 "Because — " she faltered — "because it is nice to know 
 that any one cares for me;" and she began to cry bitterly. 
 
 "Oh, Bessie, 
 Bessie!" I said; 
 " what a pity that 
 you were not wise 
 in time, and that 
 you did not marry 
 him." 
 
 " I should have 
 died of Plymouth, 
 if I had married 
 him, not knowing 
 that other things 
 could be w^orse." 
 
 So sighed Be.' 
 sic, and I recalle I 
 what she had said 
 to Mistress Sea- 
 forth, jestingly, 
 about an elope- 
 ment, and I was 
 glad that she had the defense of Mr. Bowdoin's goodness. 
 When he knows of her marriage he M'ill drop the acquaint- 
 ance, T thought, and I resolved to write to Thomas Otis 
 to tell him, as soon as I got home. 
 
 I left Philadelphia on the 4th of April ; reached Xew 
 York on the 7th. Bessie got better steadily after my 
 coming, and in a month's time could walk about her room, 
 
 BESSIE CONVALESCENT. 
 
396 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 and was regaining flesh and color. About the 8th of 
 May, Major Banks was lounging out part of a morning 
 in Bessie's jjarlor, when his servant brought him in two 
 or three letters — an English ship having just come up 
 the Bay. 
 
 He tore open one in terrible haste, turned his ])ack on 
 us, seemed to read it hurriedly, and broke forth into a 
 perfect storm of curses. 
 
 "For shame, major! — how" can you?" cried Bessie. 
 
 " Sir, you insult me," said I in anger, rising to leave 
 the room. 
 
 He bounced up, saying : " Beg pardon. Confound my 
 luck. I'm going. "What a world of fools it is." And 
 crushing on his hat he tore down stairs. 
 
 " He has been losing at play," said Bessie, " or has 
 missed remittances." 
 
 She did not seem much disturbed. The major did not 
 return for three days. Finally he sauntered in, looking 
 as if he had been drinking a good deal. His visit Avent 
 well enough, until Bessie asked when the ship Tempest 
 was expected. He darted up, and asked, with an oath, 
 " why she cared ? " 
 
 " Because, I sent for some gowns by it," said Bessie. 
 
 " I would it and all the gowns in it were sunk," said 
 he, and with little more ado away he went. 
 
 He did not visit us again fur two days, then he came, 
 looking unusually haggard ; and so called each day, until 
 the 20th, wlien lie said he was off for an expedition, and 
 would be gone for a month — "perhaps he would be shot; 
 if so, look for no will, for he had no effects." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 397 
 
 All the notice Bessie, who was much stronger, took of 
 this, was to say after he had gone, " she wondered what 
 she would have to live on as a widow, and how she would 
 look in black " 
 
 It so disgusted me that I went oif to sit with Dame 
 White. The 22d, the Tempest arrived, a boy was sell- 
 ing hand-bills with the news printed on them, and I 
 bought one. Bessie was all elated because of her new 
 gowns and ribbons ; she went to the glass twenty times to 
 see if her complexion had been harmed by her illness, and 
 declared that she would be about now when she had 
 clothes worth wearing. She had been out once for a 
 drive, and twice to walk a little way. 
 
 I now told her that she was well enough to be left, 
 and that I should go home as soon as Mr. Warley could 
 get me a pass. I also gave her an invitation from Mrs. 
 Seaforth for her to come to her for the summer. Colonel 
 Nelson had brought me a letter from my friends, sent 
 under cover to him. The colonel had said farewell when 
 he brought it ; his regiment was ordered to Rhode Island. 
 
 Bessie cried, and made such an ado at word of my 
 going, that I resolved to continue my preparations in 
 silence. The 23d of May, Mr. Warley brought Bessie 
 her parcel from the Tempest. She w^as very well con- 
 tentexl that day and the next, in trying on her new dec- 
 orations and in preparing a fresh bonnet, and a cardinal. 
 Mr Warley promised to see to my getting home as 
 speedily as possible. 
 
 On the 25th, there was to be a grand military review, 
 and Bessie had secretly written to Major Andre for tick- 
 
398 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 ets to a stage prepared for viewing it. The major sent a 
 polite note wjth the tiekets, saying that he was about to 
 leave the city for a week, or he would offer his escort, 
 but that he put his servant and carriage at our service. 
 This was the first that I knew of it. Bessie would go, 
 and sent for Mr. AYarley to attend us ; she was wild to 
 exliil)it her new gown ; and truly Avhen she put it on she 
 looked most charming, her illness had not spoiled her 
 appearance, and she congratulated herself on her costume, 
 and on having a place to show it. 
 
 AVell, we arrived at the staging, which commanded a 
 view of the parade ground near the battery, and as Bessie 
 cam J up, I saw some whispering and surprise ; no one had ex- 
 jjccted her to be able to come, I thought. A strange officer, 
 struck with her frail appearance and her beauty, gave her a 
 chair near a young English matron, evidently just arrived, 
 on M'liosc knee leaned a beautifully dressed and noble- 
 looking little lad of five. I sat next to Bessie, and did 
 not wonder at the looks of curiosity and aanaze that 
 rested on her and her neighbor. The two women were 
 indeed a contrast, one fresh, modest, dignified, matronly; 
 the other lovely, delicate, girlish, vain. 
 
 The two fell into conversation. One said she had just 
 come from England, the other longed to go there. One 
 had been more than five years parted from her hus- 
 band — the other said she had been married only a year. 
 After awhile Bessie, pleased with the child, gave him a 
 sweetmeat, and then would have him on her knee, and so 
 praised his beauty, kissed him, petted him. 
 
 A young officer — Hester's ci-devant ensign — came to me 
 
O^^E HUXDBED YEARS AGO. 399 
 
 and said in a husky voice: "Take that child away from 
 her — take her home — 'tis no place for her — it will kill 
 her — take her away — let me call your carriage." 
 
 "Why, what do you mean?" I said; "she would come, 
 but I think it will not harm her seriously." Then, as he 
 flushed and stammered, my ear caught their talk again. 
 
 "My husband is a major," says Bessie. 
 
 "Is he? why so is mine, and there he is now. Bobby, 
 see papa ; see, dear, there with a sword, this way, with his 
 hat oif." 
 
 " Why ! " cried Bessie, leaning forward, " there is my 
 husband, and I thought him gone from the city. There 
 is my husband with his hat oif giving an order. Abbey, 
 what a husband Major Banks is to come back, and not 
 let me know ! " 
 
 There was a stir and exclaiming around us. 
 
 Said the English lady, looking Bessie in the face firmly, 
 ''that auburn-haired major, bareheaded, Major Robert 
 Banks, is my husband, this boy's father." 
 
 Bessie sprang up, looked Avildly around, then at the 
 anxious, honest face before her, shrieked: "Major Banks, 
 your husband! oh, heaven, he is mine;^' and she threw 
 her arms above her head, and sank down at the English 
 wife's feet with a great cry. 
 
 Several rushed forward. The ensign moaned in my ear, 
 " I told you this would kill her. 'Tis true, that is Banks's 
 wife. Take her away." 
 
 What should I do to shelter my Bessie, to hide her and 
 her misery from all these cruel eyes. Mr. Warley was gone. 
 Several kindly stepped forward and lifting Bessie, who 
 
400 PA TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 Ava.s in a fearful convulsion, carried her toward our car- 
 riage. I turned as we went, and saw the sweet white face 
 of that deeply wronged Englishwoman, lying in uncon- 
 scionsness on a friend's arm, and heard above all the 
 tumult, the shrill cry of a child. 
 
 Beyond this scene, I caught a view of Major Banks, 
 aware of the excitement on the platform, hurrying from 
 the parade ground. He would not come near us. His 
 fearful game has been played to its bitter end ; and what 
 was Bessie to him? 
 
 I took her home to Mrs. White's, sent for a surgeon, 
 and put her to bed. She was raging in a brain fever in 
 a few hours, and Nervey and Dame White and I stayed 
 by her all night. Mr. Warley could not be found. Cap- 
 tain Seaforth, Colonel Nelson, Major Andre, all were gone, 
 and in that terrible, hostile city, I stood by my unhappy, 
 ruined cousin without a friend. 
 
 About daylight Mr. Warley came. He sent for me to 
 the parlor. He was partly intoxicated, and greatly ex- 
 cited. He asked: "Is this true about Bessie? I was off 
 on some business, and then found that you were gone, and 
 during the night I heard from some officers who were with 
 me, this — that Banks had a wife come from England, and 
 that Bessie met her to-day." 
 
 I knew where he had been, and what his business was, 
 haunting the faro tables in which he has a share. 
 
 I said : " It is all true. The wife from England looks' 
 like a good, true lady, and she has with her a child. 
 Bessie is in a brain fever." 
 
 " Why ! " cried Mr. Warley, striking his hands together 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 401 
 
 violently, " the girl's prospects are rained ! And I 
 thought the major a fairly good match for her." 
 
 " Oh, sir," I said, " her happiness is ruined. Her life 
 is in peril." 
 
 " Let me see the poor girl," he said, and I took him 
 to Bessie's room. No doubt, fatherly and pitiful emo- 
 tions stirred his heart as he saw Bessie lying there at 
 death's door, and heard her moans and half articulate 
 ravings. He groaned and wrung his hands, muttered 
 curses upon Major Banks, and then strode away with a 
 wild, angry look that frightened me. 
 
 Mrs. White brought me some breakfast. She told me 
 that she had expected some denouement like this, for INIajor 
 Banks had seemed to her a very bad man, and very neg- 
 lectful of his wife. 
 
 Scarcely had I taken my breakfast, when I was again 
 sent for to the parlor. This time the kind little ensign 
 was waiting for me. He seemed much distressed. He 
 said that "Major Banks had not been known in England 
 to any officers of his regiment, he having exchanged into 
 it just before they left England. Thus, none of them 
 had suspected that he was a married man. His conduct 
 was a disgrace to the British army and nation. He 
 desired to help us in any way that he could. Thought 
 that Banks should be ^called out,' would do it himself^ 
 only his dying mother had made him take a solemn vow 
 against dueling. He wished Nelson, Seaforth, Andre, or 
 other of my friends were in the city to fight the major." 
 
 I told him if a duel Avould be the result of their pres- 
 ence, I was glad that they were gone. I thought duels 
 
402 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 very wicked, aiul should grieve that to his other crime 
 Major Banks could add that of shooting one of my 
 friends. In short, I told my young friend that he could do 
 nothing for me, except try and secure me a pass home 
 when I was able to go. 
 
 The ensign then told me that Mrs. Banks, weary of 
 long separation from her husband, had come to America, 
 uninvited by him, in company with the colonel of a regi- 
 ment ■which came over on the Tempest. This colonel's 
 wife was with him, and was a friend of Mrs. Banks. 
 This colonel had noticed that Major Banks had not 
 seemed glad to see his wife, and had been in haste to 
 remove her from the city, saying it would be unhealthful 
 for the child. He had secured lodgings about six miles 
 from the town, and had insisted on taking her there at 
 once, until her friend, the colonel, had made some sharp 
 remarks at his singular endeavor to hide her, and Banks 
 had agreed to have her remain to a dinner that was to 
 be given the twenty-fourth, to the review of the twenty- 
 fifth, and go to the country the day following. 
 
 I saw that the major's plan had been to put his real 
 wife out of town, and hustle Bessie oif to Philadelphia 
 with me ; for he had eagerly advocated her going to 
 Mistress Seaforth. 
 
 The ensign further told me that Mrs. Banks was quite 
 ill from her distress at discovering her husband's iniquitous 
 conduct ; and that the newly arrived colonel was about to 
 lay the affair before Sir Henry Clinton ; he added that 
 Mr. Warley's conduct had not been such as to render 
 himself or his daughter greatly esteemed. The ensign, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS ago: 403 
 
 with further proffers of service, withdrew, and I went 
 back to my post. 
 
 As I watched Bessie, the loneliness of our position in 
 this city of strangers grew upon me. Mr. Warley was 
 rather a hinderance than a help to me. I concluded to 
 send for Mr. Seaforth to come to me, and to ask the 
 ensign to dispatch the letter for me. I sat on the foot of 
 the bed in the darkened room, my hands on my lap, 
 thinking what a help and comfort the home friends would 
 be, until I almost seemed to hear their voices in my ear, 
 and to feel their hands clasjiing mine. This impression, 
 deepened by sleeplessness and sorrow, so hung upon me 
 that when Mistress White's servant boy looked in, saying 
 that I was wanted in the parlor, I started up, sure that 
 some one had come from Philadelphia. 
 
 Full of this idea, I rushed down stairs. I only half 
 saw a group in the hall ; did not heed their exclamations, 
 looks, calls to me. I darted across the passage way, fluHg 
 open the door, feeling as if I should spring into my un- 
 cle's arms. Oh, fearful sight ! I stumbled, almost fell 
 upon a bier set down just within the door; a bier Avith a 
 cloak thrown over it, not covering it, but leaving exposed 
 the set, ghastly, dead face of Mr. Warley, with wide open 
 eyes staring up at the ceiling, and a hole in the forehead, 
 and a broad mark where blood had run down. I can see 
 it still. I think I shall see it so long; as I live. 
 
 The next thing I saw Avas sunshine, the snowy curtains 
 of Mistress White's bed, the kind face of mine hostess 
 bent over me. It had come upon them suddenly, she 
 said. They had meant to tell me carefully. The boy in 
 
404 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 his excitement had called me to the parlor, and I came 
 so quickly they could not stop me. 
 
 Then she told we how it was. Mr. Warley in a frenzy 
 had sought the major, and found him in a coffee-house. 
 
 'i«.v 
 
 \ERPLiNCk S POIM FI OM STON \ POINT LIGHT HOLSE 
 
 He had challenged him, and the major had refused to 
 fight. Mr. Warley then struck him in his face with his 
 hand, and then with the butt of a pistol, and had insisted 
 on fighting then and there. They paced off a short dis- 
 tance, and Major Banks had seemed to mean to shoot 
 above his antagonist's head ; but his hand and eye were 
 uncertain from drinking, and the ball passed through his 
 brain. 
 
 They buried Mr. Warley ; sealed up his effects, and 
 sent them to our lodging. The ensign, through the 
 proper authorities, sent for ISIr. Seaforth, and he came. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 405 
 
 On the 30th of May, Sir Henry Clinton sent an ex- 
 pedition up the river to get possession of Stony and Ver- 
 planck's Points. They succeeded without fighting. Major 
 Banks was with the expedition. The army encamped 
 on either side the river, and on the night of the 31st, 
 a soldier, said to be cleaning his gun, and not knowing it 
 to be loaded, shot the major through the heart as he stood 
 at his tent door. Was it accident, private revenge, or was 
 this the judgment of Heaven — death for death ? 
 
 And so in the few weeks of my stay in New York, all 
 this terrible change came. Bessie slowly rallied. Mr. 
 Seaforth cared for us like a father, and on the 15th of this 
 July we were able to return to Philadelphia, bringing 
 poor Bessie to my uncle's house. 
 
 Before M-e left New York, I was sent for to see Mrs. 
 Banks. She was in widow's dress, and is going home to 
 her father. She questioned me very kindly about Bessie, 
 and I told her the whole story. It was only justice to 
 Major Banks to tell how long he had lingered, seemingly 
 uncertain about proposing marriage, and the fact seemed 
 to comfort the poor soul a little. She shed tears over 
 Bessie. Spoke of her beauty and girlishness, and asked 
 had she friends. I told her my Uncle John's heart and 
 fortune w^ere large enough for all demands that could be 
 made on either; and so I left her, wondering how such 
 an angel could have fallen to Major Banks's share, and 
 how he could have so lightly esteemed her. 
 
406 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 September 21, 1779. 
 "P ESSIE'S affairs have drawn my attention away from 
 public interests, but poor Bessie has now become a 
 quiet daily care. She is very feeble in health, and much 
 broken in spirits. She has no pleasure in dress and 
 gayety which she formerly loved, and has no fondness for 
 books or good works ; no solace in her trouble. But the 
 tender sympathy of Mrs. Seaforth, the hearty piety of my 
 uncle, and the strong courage and faith of Judith, must 
 surely open to my unfortunate cousin a nobler life. 
 
 General Arnold is still residing in our city, but not in 
 command; when charges were preferred against him, and 
 a court-martial was ordered, he resigned his position here. 
 Since then, as nobody is now afraid of him, he is reaping 
 the reward of his arrogance and extortion, for he is as- 
 sailed with taunts and indignities, and lately he is followed 
 i^ the streets by a mob. He asked Congress for an armed 
 guard, but they declined, not considering him in danger, 
 nor deserving of honor. 
 
 The war has been this summer of a predatory charac- 
 ter. Sir Henry Clinton has ravaged the shores of Con- 
 necticut, and has burned, pillaged, and nearly destroyed 
 the towns of New Haven, East Haven, Fairfield and 
 Xorwalk. Plundering expeditions into New York along 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 407 
 
 the Jersey coast, and to Maryland and Virginia, have dis- 
 tressed our people, but have done little to weaken our 
 cause, — serving only to arouse greater hostility, and a 
 more determined ^ 
 
 o p p o s 1 1 1 o n t o / ~^- ~<-^J 
 
 Britain. 
 
 On the 16th 
 of July, General 
 Wayne, called 
 often " Mad An- 
 thony," made a 
 brilliant and suc- 
 cessful attack on 
 Stony Point, los- 
 ing but fifteen 
 men, and mak- 
 ing nearly six 
 hundred prison- 
 ers. The coun- 
 try rings with this exploit, and it is expected to make our 
 cause stronger in Europe. Major Lee, the popular "Light- 
 horse Harry," has also his spirited achievement to boast. 
 He captured the fort at Paulus Hook, on the 19th of 
 August, carrying off the garrison prisoners, but not 
 attempting to hold the place, as it is within sight of New 
 York, and within reach of the guns there. 
 
 Speaking of names assigned to various heroes, recalls 
 that given to our chief — ''The American Fabius" — for his 
 cautious policy. Some complain of this policy, and want 
 all risked at a blow ; but every year justifies the steady 
 
 CiEXERAL ANTHONY WAYNE. 
 
408 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 self-command, the immovable decision of our Washing- 
 ton, and my uncle says that future years Avill yet more 
 grandly exalt his conduct of this war. 
 
 On the ocean, Paul Jones is -winning laurels for our 
 cause, and showing that America is no unworthy child of 
 the nation, long called " Mistress of the Seas." 
 
 General Washington is now at West Point, but has 
 sent some troops south, as Georgia and South Carolina 
 are now suffering all the most terrible evils of civil war. 
 Plantations are ravaged ; citizens shot, hung, or chased 
 into swamps ; the houses are burned, or turned into 
 quarters for the enemy. The slaves are seized, and either 
 set against their masters, or given to royalists. Laurens 
 and Hamilton urge the arming of the slaves, and say 
 that they could raise several brave and effectual reg- 
 iments. 
 
 In Khode Island the slaves were freed on condition of 
 serving as soldiers, their masters being jiromised some 
 compensation by the State. Uncle says that this M'as 
 equitable in every Avay. If the slaves shed their blood 
 for a country, they should have equal rights in it. They 
 should not be slaves, but citizens, where they manfully 
 risk their lives, and, as the State profits by their freedom, 
 she should, according to her ability, pay the masters for 
 the loss of their laborers. 
 
 November IS, 1779. 
 
 Rhode Island has been evacuated by the British, 
 Sir Henry Clinton concentrating his northern forces at 
 New York, and sending what regiments he can to the 
 South. The war appears to be gradually leaving the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 409 
 
 Eastern States, where at first it broke out. When we 
 were seeing in Massachusetts the desolation of war, it 
 seemed to me as if the South was an earthly paradise of 
 beauty, peace, and plenty ; where the people were as gen- 
 erous as the soil and climate, and where no trouble could 
 
 SUBSCRIPTIONS FOR THE CONTINENTAL ARMY. 
 
 ever come ; now they are paying their price for freedom, 
 as we have been doing here. The brave General Pulaski 
 has been killed, and the French Admiral D'Estaing 
 wounded. Savannah is in the hands of the British, and 
 they are likely soon to have Charleston. 
 
 Our army is said to be in a more desperate condition 
 
410 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 than ever for want of food, clothing and ammunition, 
 while this winter promises to be bitterly cold. The 
 soldiers are not regularly paid, and the currency is 
 worth so little that it is of small use to them when they 
 get it. Thirty paper dollars to one hard dollar is the 
 rule now, and it is likely to sink lower than that. Mrs. 
 Reid, Mrs. Bache, and many others are talking of re- 
 newed organizations for relieving the wants of the army. 
 They had a meeting yesterday at Mrs. Reid's, and we 
 all went but Bessie. She spent the day Avith Annie Sea- 
 forth. At the meeting Judith proposed that if funds for 
 providing clothing failed, the patriot ladies should give 
 their jewels and trinkets. She said that she was willing 
 to give all hers, and that she was ashamed to be wearing 
 valuable ornaments, while her countrymen in the field 
 were destitute of shoes, coats and flannels. The other 
 ladies approved heartily of her remarks, and said that 
 they would freely make the sacrifice. 
 
 When we came home Bessie told me that while she 
 was at Mrs. Seaforth's, the Misses Shippen, sisters of 
 Mrs. General Arnold, called. They are very indignant 
 that the council has dared demand a court-martial for 
 General Arnold, and say that it is just like the ungrate- 
 fulness of pretended republics. 
 
 A great sorrow came to us this evening. Charles is 
 ordered to AVest Point. He has noAv been in the city for 
 a long while, and is impatient to be on active duty again ; 
 yet the order for departure came unexpectedly to him, and 
 the thought of leaving us all, especially Annie, was a se- 
 vere blow. Our house is thus a house of mourning. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 411 
 
 April 3, 1780. 
 
 This winter General Washington had his quarters at 
 Morristown, hutted as before. The cavalry were sent 
 into Connecticut. Mr. Reid called here before he went 
 there with his command. I said to him that Hannah 
 must be very grieved to have him leave her; but he 
 replied that the only thing which could trouble her, was 
 lack of supplies for her suflPering army lads. One of 
 Mr. Pteid's company told my uncle that Captain Richard 
 Reid had taken no pay since the war opened, and that 
 twice he had disbursed his private funds to the men. 
 Many of our officers do the same. I know that Charles 
 does. How our army keeps together is the marvel of 
 every one who understands the circumstances. 
 
 Mistress Reid told us yesterday at the ladies' meeting 
 for soldiers, that General Washington wrote to President 
 Reid, that the army had never been in such extremity. 
 Not only do the soldiers have the present need to bear, 
 but they know that their pay will be worth nothing 
 when they get it. Continental money is down to sixty 
 to one, and even Congress reckons it forty to one. 
 
 This winter has been terribly cold. The horses in 
 camp here died from exposure and lack of forage. 
 Hannah wrote to us that she had lost both hers; but 
 uncle sent her word, to keep her courage up ; she should 
 have horses or mules in the spring to draw that wagon, 
 if he had to sell his house to buy them. We have gath- 
 ered up three loads of stores, and sent them to Hannah for 
 her sick soldiers ; but now when we beg for flannels or 
 blankets or socks, people tell us their supply is exhausted. 
 
41 2 PA TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 My uncle has been twice to the camp. He says that 
 the general is deeply distressed at being forced to im- 
 press supplies froni the country to save his army from 
 starvation. He gives the most earnest and touching 
 charges to those who go out for corn or fodder, and the 
 people in the main bear the imposition very well. 
 Uncle has taken all that he could remove from his farm 
 for the use of the camp. I told uncle, the other day, 
 that in fifteen months I should be of age, and then I 
 should give all my property to the army. He patted my 
 head, saying : " Poor child, what a drop in this ocean of 
 need your little heritage would be ! " Then he added 
 more brightly : " Let us hope that the war will be over 
 by that time. What will Judith and Susannah do, if 
 peace is not declared, so that their Tory lovers may 
 return ? " 
 
 Mr. Morris and my uncle were talking yesterday 
 about the army, and they said that Jersey could never 
 be praised enough for what it has done. Drained as it 
 has been of its wealth, by both parties, it has subsisted 
 the entire army part of this winter, when deep snows 
 have prevented provisions coming in from other States. 
 So cold has it been since December, that New York 
 Bay was frozen over, and the Hudson River had ice so 
 thick that the heaviest artillery could be drawn across. 
 
 My uncle w^as in the Jerseys in the coldest time. We 
 feared greatly for him. He told us, when he returned, 
 that wherever he went the women were spinning, knit- 
 ting, weaving, sewing, robbing themselves to furnish out 
 the soldiers ; and that he had been in some houses where 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 413 
 
 the fire on the kitchen hearth never went out, and a 
 great kettle hung over it all the time, with meat, por- 
 ridge, or vegetables in it, and every passing soldier was 
 warmed and fed, " Now," said my uncle, " this shows 
 a fixed principle. We must oppose here the power of 
 endurance and' self-sacrifice to the pov/er of wealth and 
 warlike equipments, and I am more and more convinced 
 that a new separate life has awaked in this nation, and 
 that the only end of this war will be recognized inde- 
 pendence." 
 
 The trial by court-martial of General xVrnold has 
 proceeded, and the sentence was merely for a reprimand 
 by the commander-in-chief. All Mho know General 
 "Washington and his regard for the bravery of Arnold, 
 know that his reprimand Avill be the lightest and most 
 courteous that could possibly be given. We hear now 
 that General Arnold proposes to leave the army, and 
 establish a colony in north-western New York. 
 
 June 2, 1780. 
 
 Again I have been from home. My uncle was about 
 to go to Morristown on the 10th of April, when we had 
 a letter from Joseph Dana, saying that Hannah Avas 
 very ill, and had been removed to a farm-house, and 
 asking for some needful things to be sent to her. My 
 uncle concluded to take me to her, and Judith having 
 pre])ared various comforts for an invalid, we set out. I 
 found Hannah more in need of sympathy and nursing 
 than of medicine, and devoted all my time to her. The 
 farm-house was a lonely place about two miles from the 
 camp, its sole inhabitants being an old man and woman, 
 
414 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 a little ])lack girl, and an enormous mastiff. The three 
 sons of the family were in the garrison at West Point. 
 Josej^h Dana got leave, while Hannah was at the worst, 
 to sleep at the house, but he took his breakfast and went 
 to the camp at day-break. 
 
 I felt the house lonesome after living in the city. The 
 old lady was deaf and feeble, and spent most of her time 
 in bed, and my sole consolation was the dog, a fierce brute, 
 the terror of strangers; but the creature took a great fancy 
 to me. It was about the 20th of April, when Hannah 
 had began to amend, and the weather was very fine, when 
 our farm became the scene of some excitement. Early 
 one morning old Mr. Ray went off to a distant field; 
 his wife was in bed, I with Hannah, and the little black 
 girl was in the kitchen. This girl came to me with a very 
 gay kerchief, saying that a peddler had given it to her 
 for a breakfast, which he was then eating in the kitchen. 
 She was obliged to go to the barn to feed the calves, 
 and wanted me to go to the kitchen until the stranger 
 departed. I rebuked her for letting people of this sort 
 into the house, but seeing no help for the matter now, as 
 the man was said to be quietly eating, I agreed to go 
 down. 
 
 It seems that he had asked the girl if there were any 
 men in the house, and she had told him no. Feeling at 
 ease, therefore, he had left his pack with a pistol laid 
 upon it in the shed, through which he had entered the 
 kitchen. I liad been sweeping Hannah's room, and went 
 down with a kerchief tied over my head, a broom in one 
 hand, and my other hand in the collar of my friend, the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 415 
 
 mastiff. Not liking to stand gazing at the traveler, I con- 
 'elucled to behave as one of the household and proceed to 
 sweep the kitchen, which might also be a hint to him to 
 depart. 
 
 He did not notice me particularly, but as soon as I fixed 
 my attention on him, I recognized certain peculiarities of 
 head and neck which belonged to "Spy Brown," and no 
 other. He had been in the camp, and might be making 
 off with information which would ruin the few thousands 
 gathered there. To cover my anxiety as I pondered what 
 to do, I kept sweeping, the dog close by me ; and sweep- 
 ing along by the door where his pack and pistols were, I 
 pushed it shut. He turned about from the table and 
 looked squarely at me, standing with my back against the 
 door; at that moment I felt no terror. If I had his pistols 
 in my hand, I would have ordered him to surrender. He 
 recognized me, and saw that I knew him. 
 
 "With a great oath he said : " It's parson Temple's girl ! " 
 
 "1 know you, Brown," I said. 
 
 He stepped toward me. My dog growled ominously, 
 his eyes blazed, his fangs showed, and every hair on his 
 body seemed to bristle up. Brown halted, ran his eye 
 over the table, only one knife there, and that a dull old 
 thing. He said : 
 
 "See here, girl, I don't mean any harm to yon, come 
 away from that door, and I '11 go ; but you must go on 
 your knees and swear that for twenty-four hours you will 
 not hint of me or my name to a living being." 
 
 "I will not swear such a thing," I retorted, slipping 
 
 mv hand out of my dog's collar. 
 27 
 
416 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Brown gave another oath. " I believe you were in my 
 being caught before. I heard some whisper about a girl. 
 You've got the Temple eye, keen as a razor — it's your 
 life or mine; if I must throttle you or blow out your 
 brains, be it on your head." 
 
 The leuffth of the room had been between us. He 
 made a dash toward me, but as he did so, my dog with 
 a roai- rather than a growl, hurled himself into the air, 
 — Brown whirling about to escape those red, gaping 
 jaws — and leaping forward as he turned, the dog came 
 upon his bent shoulders, and slipped down his back, his 
 nails making a tearing along Brown's coat, and his teeth 
 snapping. 
 
 My enemy's coat had a short, stiff pair of tails, for ho 
 Avas dressed as a jaunty trader, in a blue coat with gilt 
 buttons. As he had whirled about the tails of his coat 
 stood straight out Avith the motion, and upon these tails 
 my dog's teeth closed as he slid down his foe's back. 
 Brown is tall and strong, the mastiff grasped the coat with 
 all his strength ; and his paws, searching for a holding, 
 found it in the seat of Brown's breeches. Brown's turn 
 had set him facing the front door of the kitchen, and out 
 of that he tore like a madman, going over the field with 
 long strides, and still the dog held on. The fences had 
 mostly been turned into fuel for the camp. I ran to the 
 door, and as far as I could see, I beheld Brown, hatless, 
 tearing over the fields, the dog whirled after him on 
 two legs, sustained by the grip he had on the coat and 
 breeches. 
 
 I dragged the abandoned pack into a closet and locked 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 417 
 
 it in. I took the pistol, ran to the barn, and bid the girl 
 leap on a horse, ride to camp, and bid Joseph Dana and 
 some other soldier ride out to me in haste. She at once 
 seized the idea that Hannah was dying, and made that 
 report to Joseph. I locked up the house, kept the pistol 
 in hand, and spent my time in going from window to 
 window to see what was coming. No Mr. Ray, no Joseph, 
 no dog, no peddler. Finally, a beat of hoofs, and I 
 opened the door for Joseph ; hardly had he got in than 
 a panting sound Avas heard, and in bounded the mastiff*, 
 covered with sweat, and laid at my feet — a pair of blue 
 coat-tails. 
 
 Evidently he had returned when the long resisting tails 
 had given way, and let him down on all fours. He 
 wagged his tail in triumph over his plunder, and I fell 
 on my knees and hugged his big ugly head, and kissed 
 it with all my heart. 
 
 I told Joseph the story, so he took the pack and the frag- 
 ment of coat and hastened back to camp, leaving me with 
 dog and pistol to defend myself and the house. Scouts 
 rode oflP on all hands among the heights to capture the 
 fugitive, but toward the end of the afternoon Joseph 
 Dana and two others — one of them on horseback — return- 
 ing from a bootless search along the edge of a ravine, 
 found Brown, who had somewhere got a carter's frock 
 to cover his impromptu jacket. Unhappily he had also 
 obtained a pistol, and he fired upon his pursuers. The 
 ball entered Joseph's arm, shattering the bone above the 
 elbow. Joseph being now helpless, his two companions 
 undertook to bring their prisoner to camp. Brown unex- 
 
418 PATRIOT AND TORY : 
 
 pectedly closed with one of them and flung him down, 
 and the other seizing him, Brown struck him in the face 
 with a knife. 
 
 The two sokliers were now furious, and decided to 
 hang their prisoner on the spot. They took the bridle 
 from the horse, and having pinioned Brown's arms behind 
 him with a handkerchief, hung him on a tree over the 
 steep edge of the ravine. They were in too great haste, 
 happily or unhappily, for no sooner had they swung the 
 wretched man off, than the tree limb gave way, and he 
 went crashing down into the ravine. Down went the 
 soldiers after him, clambering over the steep sides as well 
 as they might — but no Brown was to be found, and so a 
 second time he made his escape from merited death. 
 
 Joseph Dana was brought to Mr. Ray's farm, and we 
 thought his wound not likely to be serious. But one dif- 
 ficulty after another followed to hinder the healing, and, 
 wlien on the 15th of May I came home with my uncle, 
 Hannah being quite well, we brought Joseph to be put 
 under Doctor Binney's care. Joseph, once the gay, bold, 
 vain, generous, hearty young man, the secret pride of the 
 old deacon's heart, is now a worn, thin, anxious, resolute 
 soldier; and more than that, alas! — to-day without his 
 right arm. For Doctor Binney's best eiforts failed, and as 
 the only means of saving life, the amputation was per- 
 formed this morning. Joseph is here in our house. 
 Uncle was with him during the operation. His only re- 
 gret seemed to be that he must leave the army ; and so 
 if he recovers now, his parents will have him back. 
 
 Three days before T left Mr. Ray's, the camp was filled 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 419 
 
 with joy at the return of the Marquis La Fayette. He 
 came the bearer of good news. French troops and a 
 French fleet, arms, ammunition, and camp equipage M-ere 
 coming to us. The Marquis hastened on to Philadelphia, 
 and when I reached home the city was in a joyous com- 
 motion, because of his arrival and the good news. 
 General Arnold was in the city at the same time ; his 
 project about western New York has not succeeded, and 
 he wanted to rejoin the army. 
 
 On the 25th of INIay, a mutiny broke out in camp — 
 some of our poor fellows getting desperate with the pri- 
 vations of their situation. It is not the open field, but 
 the tortures of camp, with poor food, shelter, clothing, 
 and no pay, which is wearing out our men. The general 
 quelled the disturbance in his masterly manner, and he 
 wrote to Mr. Reid for instant help. The president, 
 council, and legislature sent what aid they could, and our 
 ladies' association came nobly to the rescue. Some of us 
 brought the last silver in our purses, and many sold 
 trinkets and jewels. 
 
 Our committees went about the city begging whatever 
 could be turned to use. Hester and I were on one com- 
 mittee for begging, and we got all manner of articles. 
 Continental paper, French silver, rings, spoons, overcoats, 
 sheets, shirts, and towels, blankets, and webs of linen; 
 the whole city seemed inspired. A black woman, named 
 Phillis, gave her hard-earned seven and sixpence, and the 
 Marquis La Fayette, in the name of his wife, brought a 
 hundred guineas in specie, and the Countess de Luzerne 
 gave us six thousand paper dollars, equal to one hundred 
 
420 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 in hard money. ^"\Ve prepared twenty-two hundred shirts 
 — twenty shirts were made at our house — Bessie, Nervey, 
 and the chambermaid sewing with the rest of us. 
 
 JfLY 12, 1780. 
 
 On the eighth of this month, Joseph Dana was able to 
 return home to Plymouth. Hannah came from camp and 
 remained a week with him. I had thought that she 
 would go home Avhen he did; but no, she says that now 
 she understands her work, and will not leave it. The day 
 before Joseph went away, I had a letter from Deborah 
 Samson. I had not' known that there was so much ten- 
 derness in her nature as this letter showed. She knew 
 how my heart clings to that old home, and she had 
 visited the dear spot, and told me exactly how it looked; 
 what flowers were blooming; what birds haunted it; 
 where the great-grandfather's oaken chair stood; what 
 crops throve in what fields; how the neighbors spoke yet 
 of my grand-parents, and how the graves in the church- 
 yard were tended ; and she sent me some leaves from the 
 big apple-tree. 
 
 She is now at Mistress Hooper's. Isaiah has not been 
 heard from, but one from that regiment, who returned home, 
 believed Isaiah to have been captured by the Indians, 
 and a captive who had escaped, said he fancied he had 
 been sent to the Shawnees. Mrs. Hooper is heart-broken, 
 and believes that she could more easily have borne the 
 news of his death. Indeed, Deborah's description of the 
 fatherless household is verv touchin":. She said she found 
 her services greatly needed. Xo one questioned her 
 about her absence, only there is a rumor in the neigh- 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 421 
 
 borliood that she had run away and married an English 
 soldier. At the close of the letter she said, " I do not 
 repent of what I did ; but it was a terrible hour to me, 
 when I felt that my course was condemned by such men 
 as Dr. Binney and by our general. No words can ex- 
 press my gratitude to hh)i for his silence. I stood before 
 him overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and he 
 spoke not one word to add to my distress; but his letter, 
 though short, was full of the noblest advice. It was a 
 compensation sufficient for my years of service." 
 
 The heat has been very great in the city this summer, 
 and Judith and Hester have been away for a visit. 
 They returned on the 9th, and yesterday Susannah and I 
 came out to Mistress Logan's to spend a week. This even- 
 ing a little before sunset, I went out by myself, and pass- 
 ing through the garden to the brow of the hill overlook- 
 ing the creek, I wandered about the little burial-ground. 
 This burial-place lies above the Logan vault, and that is 
 a spot which has a sort of fascination for me, I know not 
 why. 
 
 Going down the steps at the hill-side, I went to the iron 
 grating doo"r of the vault, and looked into the damp, dark 
 cavern. It has not been entered for some time ; the slabs 
 which seal up the burial recesses are moldy, and from the 
 hooks in the arch great chains of cobwebs droop to the 
 floor. Standing thus, I heard near me a sound like a 
 sigh, or groan, and turning, I saw an Indian with folded 
 arms, and rifle laid at his feet, leaning against a great 
 maple which stood near. His hunting-shirt and leggins 
 were stained and frayed ; the jaunty fringes and the moc- 
 
422 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 casins were in tatters. The dark, sad face was that of my 
 old friend Ta-ga-jute. 
 
 I held out my hand to him, " Welcome, Logan ! " 
 
 He took my hand with a grace which might have be- 
 come Colonel Nelson. 
 
 He said, " The word is sweet to a lonely heart." 
 
 " You have come from far, Logan," I said. 
 
 " Logan has no home, and no rest," he rej^licd. " My 
 people are at Detroit. Cornstalk is with the Shawnees, 
 at Scioto. The cabin which was plundered is desolate. 
 Ta-ga-jute has come to look upon the grave of Shikelli- 
 mus." 
 
 His words gave me a good thought. 
 
 I said, " \Yhen the women and the children were 
 killed, then the chief knew what it was to be desolate 
 indeed. . But sometimes the women and the children sit 
 and w^ait for one who never comes. There is no hand to 
 bring bread ; no arm to protect. The mother and her 
 babes sit alone, and the Indians keep the father prisoner." 
 
 He roused himself and said : 
 
 " Ls it true ? What does the maiden wish ? Have 
 any of those many friends been taken captive?" and he 
 looked quizzical at the words " many friends." 
 
 I told him, then, of Isaiah Hooper in his home. 
 
 He remarked, " He was happy ; the earth gave him 
 food ; he loved the Great Spirit, and hated firewater." 
 
 I continued the story, telling about the departure for 
 war. 
 
 He said, " He was brave ; his heart was strong." 
 
 I told him of the dismal captivity, the man dying 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 423 
 
 and starved, who would not give his w^ord to fight no 
 more. 
 
 He shouldered his rifle in enthusiasm, crying, " He 
 was true. Where is Logan's white brother?" 
 
 I replied, " He is captive in a Shawnee town. No 
 more can he see his wife ; no more bring bread to his 
 children. Logan knows what it is to have a lonely 
 cabin. What would Ta-ga-jute do if his squaw or his 
 child had been taken captive ? Now let Logan find his 
 white brother." 
 
 " It is done. The maiden sets me a good work," he 
 said, " and I will search the Shawnee villages and the 
 other tribes for the captive before I come again to the 
 grave of my father. But the way is long. The maiden 
 must wait many moons before the captive is led back, or 
 Ta-ga-jute comes to tell her that her friend is gone to the 
 Great Spirit. Ta-ga-jute goes to-morrow." 
 
 I promised him a reward if he brought back Isaiah 
 
 Hooper. I described the man to him; impressed his 
 
 name upon him ; and to keep him in mind, I broke a 
 
 little gold chain that I wore, and made him a ring of 
 
 part of it. So now I hope that to-morrow help may be 
 
 on the way to friend Hooper, if indeed, after so many 
 
 trials he is living. 
 
 July 18, 1780. 
 
 Mv visit at Mrs. Logan's was shorter than I had antic- 
 ipated. The day after my last writing, Logan set off for 
 the West, early in the morning. At breakfast Mistress 
 Logan spoke of some purchase which she washed made 
 in the city, and I offered to ride in and do the errand 
 
424 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 for her. I set off at once, before the day became hot, and 
 went first to our own house. I was standing in the par- 
 lor, talking with Judith, when we heard the noise of 
 wheels, and Susannah, running to the window, announced 
 Hannah Dana's wagon. 
 
 Hannah herself came in immediately. She had come 
 to the city with four patients, wounded at the battle of 
 Springfield, June 23d, when Knyphausen last invaded the 
 Jerseys. The four patients promised to be long ill, and 
 Hannah, at the request of the surgeon, brought them into 
 Philadelphia for care at the hospital. But one, she said, 
 was an old friend of ours, and since my uncle had told 
 her that our house was always open to the M'ounded, she 
 had brought him to us for especial attention, if possibly 
 we might save his life. We bade her bring her patient in, 
 and without stopping to ask his name, Judith called for 
 Pompey and Peter to come and carry him to the bed-room 
 on the first floor, which she made haste to throw open. 
 
 The sufferer was carefully laid in the bed, Hannah re- 
 marking that moving him had been, in her opinion, a 
 mistake, for he had grown worse. She then threw aside 
 the kerchief, which had been over his face, and I saw 
 that here was Mr. Bowdoin ! I resolved not to return to 
 Mistress Logan's, but to do my part as nurse for our old 
 friend; and I begged Susannah to do Mistress Logan's 
 errand, and ride out there to finish my interrupted visit. 
 
 Hannah Dana was greatly grieved about Mr. Bowdoin; 
 so long as they were together in camp, he had done so 
 much to aid her in work among the wounded, that a strong 
 friendship had sprung up between them. Having been 
 
02^E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 425 
 
 with the army in the Mohawk VaHey, he had returned 
 with a company to West Point, and had been sent thence 
 to New Jersey, just in time to be present at the battle of 
 Springfield. His wound had occasioned fever, and the 
 fever had now attacked his brain. Hannah said it was 
 at his own urgent request to be brought to my uncle's, 
 that he had been moved from the neighborhood of Spring- 
 field. 
 
 Mr. Bowdoin remained unconscious until after Han- 
 nah's departure. Bessie was staying with Mrs. Seaforth. 
 She is very feeble and unhappy, singularly restless — some- 
 times we think she is going into a consumption. In the 
 evening I went over to Mrs. Seaforth's and told her about 
 Mr. Bowdoin. Nothing would do but she must see him. 
 As he was insensible, it could do him no harm, and I 
 took her to his bedside. She stood there crying passion- 
 ately. I felt deeply pained for her, and tried to comfort 
 her. She would not return to Mrs. Seaforth. 
 
 Mr. Bowdoin continued unconscious until the morning 
 of the 16th. I was sitting by his bed early in the morn- 
 ing, when he opened his eyes and called me by name, 
 adding : " This is kind, to be my nurse." I gave him his 
 medicine and some nourishment, and that day we hoped 
 he was improving. Bessie wanted to see him, but we 
 feared to permit it. In the afternoon he began to speak 
 to me of Bessie, and to my utter amazement I found that 
 he had never heard of her marriage, and believed her 
 still to be with her father in New York. He spoke 
 fondly of the letters which she had written him from 
 that city, and of his hope that when the war ended they 
 
426 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 M-ould be married. He asked if I thought Mr. "Warley 
 would continue his objection to the marriage. I said 
 "no/' but begged him to be quiet until he was better. 
 Presently he slept for an hour^ and wiien he woke he 
 asked me such a question about Mr. Warley, that I was 
 obliged to say that Mr. \Yarley was dead. 
 
 He said: "Oh, my poor Bessie, what will she do?" 
 
 I prayed him to be calm, saying that my uncle had re- 
 solved to treat her as a daughter, and that she had been 
 staying with good Christian friends. This composed him. 
 About eight a change came over him; we sent for the 
 physician, and he told us plainly that Mr. Bowdoin was 
 dying. Mr. Bowdoin felt this himself, and beckoning to 
 me he said softly, that I must take a message "for his 
 Bessie;" if he could have seen her, he would be content. 
 
 I said, "Mr. Bowdoin, you can have your wish. Bes- 
 sie has come from her friend to my uncle's. She is here. 
 I Mill bring her to you, but she is much changed, she 
 has been ill." 
 
 I then went to Bessie, and told her that Mr. Bowdoin 
 wanted to see her. I said, " Bessie, he does not know that 
 you M'ere married. He thinks that you have been true to 
 liim. He is dying. You must control yourself, or you 
 will hasten his death. Let him die in peace." 
 
 Then I took her to the room. Uncle and Judith were 
 sitting there. Mr. Bowdoin lay with his eyes fixed on 
 the door; when Bessie entered he smiled joyfully, and 
 held out his hand. Bessie fell on her knees by the bed, 
 and hid her face. 
 
 He stroked her hair, saying: "My dear girl, I must 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 427 
 
 leave you. I had hoped for better things, but God is 
 good that I may see you at hist, and bid you good bye, 
 aiid know that you have not forgotten me, my Bessie." 
 
 Bessie sobbed wildly, that '' she could never, never for- 
 get him." 
 
 " Then let us meet in heaven, my Bessie, where all 
 these our sorrows and partings M'ill seem like dreams of a 
 night. I have always trusted you, Bessie. I know you 
 were true to me," 
 
 "Oh," murmured Bessie, "if I could only be good like 
 you, and hope to meet you again ! " 
 
 He drew her head toward him, and softly spoke some 
 words of religious instruction and comfort to her; then 
 he begged her to be calm, while my uncle should read and 
 pray with him. 
 
 Uncle John stood at the bed's foot, and read the four- 
 teenth chapter of St. John, and then prayed. When the 
 prayer was ended, INIr. Bowdoin looked around on us 
 all, and feebly waved his hand as in farewell. Then he 
 took Bessie's hand in his, and with a last eifort, said: 
 "Good-bye, Bessie." He had died believing in her! 
 
 Poor Bessie, when she knew that he was gone, burst 
 into the most piteous lamentations — "Oh, why was I so 
 blind, so foolish, so wicked! Oh, but for me, we might 
 have been happy now, and you might be living! Why 
 can not I undo it all. If I only had back the past." 
 And so she raved, clinging to that dead hand, which 
 living she had despised and rejected. "He believed in 
 me ! he loved me ; the only one in all the world who 
 ever really cared for me ! " 
 
428 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Thus she raved, and Juditli and I could not quiet her. 
 Finally we got her to bed, and by day-light she fell 
 asleep, sobbing in her dreams, and looking so pale and 
 so pitiful that I only could compassionate her, and forget 
 her wrong-doing. Surely she has suffered for all the 
 wrong that ever she did. I went for Mrs. Seaforth, who 
 always can comfort Bessie better than we can, and she 
 staid with the unhappy child all next day. 
 
 Uncle buried Mr. Bowdoin in our own family cemetery 
 on the river side, above the city. We laid him there 
 to-day about sunset. Mr. Bowdoin was a man alone in 
 the world. He had no relatives, and, being of a reticent 
 nature, few friends. Without any ambition but to be 
 good, he would gladly have spent his whole life laboring 
 among my grandfather's old people. His love and trust 
 were entirely fixed upon Bessie. I sit now thinking 
 what a good and peaceful life hers might have been, if, 
 unallured by worldly follies, she had married him that 
 pleasant spring-time when he and she were together at 
 Plymouth. And whose fault is it that Bessie was so 
 willful, so vain, so false? Surely she learned nothing 
 else from her father, and the girl was motherless ! 
 
 I said to Uncle John to-night: "Why must p(X)r Bessie 
 see so much more trouble than Susannah or I ? " 
 
 He answered : " The children of the Covenant come to 
 the Father by a straight and pleasant path. There are 
 others who, through much tribulation, enter the kingdom 
 of God. Through all these woes and Avanderings, God is, 
 perhaps, teaching Bessie the insufficiency of the world to 
 make her happy, and is answering in His way your 
 grandmother's prayers." 
 
OyS HUyDRED YEARS AGO. 429 
 
 CHAPTER Xyil. 
 
 October 20, 17S0. 
 rPHE presence of La Favctte in the spring, the arrival of 
 -^ the Count Rochambeau with troops a little later, and 
 th6 promise of further succor, have somewhat revived the 
 spirits of our people ; but still our condition is desperate. 
 Supplies for the army are -wanting ; the money is value- 
 less ; much of the summer General "Washington has had 
 but three thousand available troops; Congress and the 
 general differ about the conduct of the quartermaster's 
 department, and General Greene has resigned. The 
 success of the British in Georgia and the Carolinas has 
 been most disheartening to us. If they complete the 
 conquest of the South, and when peace is declared are in 
 a position to dismember our colonies and retain the 
 southern land, many will feel as if we had obtained but a 
 poor price for our long-continued struggle. 
 
 General De Kalb was mortally wounded in the battle 
 of Camden, and on August 16th, Sumter and Gates were 
 routed. The Tory element is very strong along the 
 southern seaboard, and the depreciation of the currency 
 there is fearful, owing, my Uncle INIatthew writes, to the 
 British having found means to throw an enormous quan- 
 tity of counterfeits of the currency into Virginia. My 
 Uncle John says that our present weakness is owing to 
 
430 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 the lack of organized unity between the States ; there is 
 no powerful central government, but really thirteen dis- 
 tinct bodies, thirteen armies, thirteen ways of raising the 
 taxes, thirteen governments, thirteen heads — and have we 
 one, thirteen, or no body politic? This lack of unity has 
 demoralized and reduced the army, and has been the true 
 reason why "Washington's favorite project of an attack on 
 New York could not be carried out. Another of the 
 distresses of the summer has been the ravaging of north- 
 ern New York by parties from Canada. The counties 
 whence our general expected supplies of corn, have been 
 destroyed ; Forts Anne and George arc captured ; villages 
 are burned; the Indians are out in force. 
 
 But by far our saddest loss, our bitterest disappoint- 
 ment, our greatest danger of this summer, has been one 
 upon which I have dreaded to touch, even in this journal. 
 On these pages I have written of much that is patient, 
 true, self-sacrificing, heroic ; now I must set down treason. 
 We all feel ready to say Avith our general : " Whom now 
 can we trust?" America has learned a new word for 
 traitor; the word is, Arnold. 
 
 About the beginning of August, Arnold obtained com- 
 mand of West Point, our most important port. He 
 pleaded desire to save his country, and inability to walk 
 or ride because of his wounds. Yet during this time he 
 was in correspondence with Sir Henry Clinton, bargain- 
 ing for a high price for the betrayal of his country. The 
 loss of West Point, its dependencies, its forces, and stores, 
 would have been the death-blow to our canst, ndw when 
 aifairs in the South go so badly. Our former acquaint- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 431 
 
 ance, Andre, had been made major and adjutant-general 
 of the British forces. Unhappily Andre was the officer 
 chosen to treat with Arnold. 
 
 Arnold's quarters were at the Robinson House, Bev- 
 erly. Arnold agreed to seize a 
 time when the commander- 
 in-chief, with the main body 
 of troops, would be below 
 King's Bridge to co-operate 
 with the French in an attack 
 on New York. Arnold would 
 surrender his post with almost 
 no resistance, claiming that he 
 had not force sufficient to hold 
 it. 
 
 Havinp; sent to Washington 
 for help, Arnold would SUr- scene of Arnold's treason. 
 
 render before reinforcements arrived ; and the com- 
 mander-in-chief, drawn from his attack on New York, 
 must be surprised by his victorious enemy. Arnold had 
 in a feigned name and hand carried on a correspondence 
 concerning this treason. His price was to be money and 
 a brigadier-generalship in the British army. The en- 
 deavor was to obtain a meeting with Andre under a flag 
 of truce, on pretense of business relating to confiscated 
 property. General Washington would not consent to the 
 flag, and Andre came up the river on the ship Vulture, 
 and effected a meeting with Arnold, as he supposed, unth- 
 out the American lines. 
 
 The terms of the treason were a«[reed upon. When 
 28 "^ ^ 
 
432 
 
 PA TRIOT AND TOR F.- 
 
 Andre found that he could not rejoin his ship that night, 
 next day she was forced to drop down the river, and 
 Andre was left on shore, and obliged to seek New York 
 by land. General Clinton warned Andre not to disguise 
 
 ^' . Jpii'^f^^ 
 
 THE ARREST OF MAJOR ANDKE. 
 
 himself nor carry any papers. He disobeyed both orders 
 
 at the instance of Arnold, putting on a disguise over his 
 
 uniform, and carrying in his boots papers relating to the 
 treason. 
 
 Arnold charged Andre to take the inner route to New 
 York by White Plains. Andre, about six miles below 
 Croton, left the road by White Plains, and took the high- 
 way from Albany near Tarrytown. Here about noon, as 
 he proceeded to the city, believing himself quite safe, he 
 was captured by three good Americans, who formed a 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 433 
 
 self-constituted guard to the highway. He offered one 
 hundred guineas, or any money they might ask, if they 
 would send him to New York. The men were incorrup- 
 tible. On the evidence of the papers and his hidden uni- 
 form, they recognized him as a spy, and took him to 
 Colonel Jameson. 
 
 He was allowed to send letters to Arnold at the Rob- 
 inson House. Mistress Arnold and her infant had been 
 there from Philadelphia but a fcM- days, and on the 
 morning of September 24th, General Washington and his 
 suite were to be there at breakfast. They were late. 
 Arnold and his family sat down to eat, and as thev were 
 at table, the messenger from Andre entered. Arnold saw 
 that he was discovered. He called his wife aside, told 
 her the story, and leaving her insensible, he fled through 
 the Highlands, and taking his barge and hanging out a 
 white flag, reached the British ship Vulture. Another 
 messenger reached Washington in the afternoon at West 
 Point. Arnold had escaped, but Andre was less fortu- 
 nate. Taken as a spy, but one fate awaited him. He 
 was executed the 2d of October. 
 
 It was a sad day for us when the news came. We re- 
 membered with interest our gay and gifted friend ; so 
 young, enthusiastic, and thoughtless. What a fate was 
 his! We thought of his mother and sisters of whom he 
 had spoken to us, and we shed many tears for them. 
 Andre had not intended to come inside our lines; he had 
 not intended to assume a disguise, but he had done both. 
 Court-martials deal not with intentions, but with facts. 
 No man ever entered an enemy's territory with more 
 
434 PATRIOT AND TORT: 
 
 hostile intentions than Andre. He came, hoping to work 
 our entire ruin. He desecrated a flag of truce, and told 
 complicated falsehoods; at the same time he was the un- 
 happy victim of a most false, cruel, and unscrupulous 
 man. 
 
 Some thought that Mistress Arnold was a party to the 
 plot, but Charles, from whom, as now stationed at West 
 Point, we learned all the circumstances of this terrible 
 business, says that evidently the treason was as much of a 
 surprise to her as to any one. General Washington sent 
 her under passport to her father at Philadelphia. As soon 
 as she arrived here, she concluded upon a separation from 
 Arnold. Why she desired this is a question. She has 
 seemed to be fond of him, and he is marvelously devoted 
 to her. Is the idea of leaving her friends too bitter ? Does 
 she think his prospects are ruined, or does she resent the 
 death of Andre, formerly a great friend of hers, and her 
 knight at the Mischienza. 
 
 The executive council here ordered her to leave the 
 State within fourteen days, and not to return during the 
 war. She and her father agreed to give pledges to have 
 no communication with Arnold, if she might stay, but 
 they insisted upon her leaving, and she is gone to 'New 
 York. So pretty Margaret Shippen is gone from Phila- 
 delphia. But lately we have had a greater loss. Mistress 
 Reid is dead ; many cares and labors destroyed a naturally 
 delicate frame. She died on the eighteenth of last month, 
 and all the city mourned at her funeral, for she was 
 greatly beloved. There has been no purer and more ar- 
 dent Patriot than this young English woman, only a 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 435 
 
 few years a resident in this country ; her time, her means, 
 her affections, all belonging to the land of her adoption. 
 Bessie went with us to the funeral. It was the first 
 time she had left the house since Mr. Bowdoin's death. 
 She seems improving in health this autumn ; but there is 
 a far greater improvement in her spirit. She does not 
 seem like the same Bessie. I believe that she is growing 
 like Mrs. Seaforth. 
 
 November 10, 1780. 
 
 It is a long while since Susannah has heard from 
 Colonel Nelson. Letters frequently come to the city 
 from officers in the British army, but for months not a 
 token from the colonel. My uncle thinks that he has 
 gone to England, or has forgotten Susannah, or that in 
 New York his fancy has fixed on some other beauty. 
 He said to Judith the other day that he wished he had 
 sent Susannah out of the city as soon as the colonel 
 began to pay attention to her. Judith, like the rest of 
 the ladie.^, seems inclined to put confidence in the 
 colonel, and says that if he is living she is sure his 
 silence will be explained. But in war time, if he is liv- 
 ing means a great deal. 
 
 I have been very sad this some time. I am sure 
 Thomas Otis is dead- It is many months since we heard 
 from him. Still, that was not so very strange, as he is in 
 northern New York; but about a week ago, a major, 
 who had been with General Van Rensselaer, came here ; 
 my uncle brought him home for the evening. He told 
 us that on the 19th there had been a sharp battle at 
 Fort Keyser, and more than forty had been killed. He 
 
436 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 helped bury the dead the next day, and he described 
 finding a young man with light curling hair, blue eyes, 
 and a fair face, lying dead, and in his hand a paper and 
 a lock of fair hair. Oh, I know, I know, that was Thomas 
 Otis, and that he died thinking of me. 
 
 I was near the door, and when the truth of this ter- 
 rible story came upon me, I stole out and ran up to 
 my room and locked myself in, and I cried all night, 
 thinking of poor Thomas, and the merry days we spent 
 in Plymouth, and that he is dead, and that there is no 
 one to mourn for him but me. He had no mother or 
 sisters; no one cared for him — unless I did — and indeed, 
 I too was forgetting Thomas. I did not miss him while 
 he was away. I did not feel anxious for him to come 
 back, as Judith does for Henry. I was not unhappy at 
 not hearing from him, as Susannah is about the colonel. 
 Oh, how cold-hearted and ungrateful I am, while Thomas 
 was true to me, and died thinking of me, and with my 
 token in his hand ! 
 
 I did not tell any one about this. Judith would say 
 that I was not sure that this was Thomas, and Hester 
 would talk to me about him, and accuse me of not caring 
 enough. But I can be true; and a soldier who died for 
 his country, and thinking of me, shall not be forgotten. 
 Once, when I was in Plymouth, I liked Thomas more 
 than any one, except my two grandfathers. I could not 
 be expected then to like any one more than them ; but — well 
 for a year or two I have not thought so much of Thomas, 
 and I have had an idea that other people might be nicer, 
 and that I might possibly like some one else better than 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 437 
 
 I did my grandfather — and such a poor patriot I am, that 
 while Hannah can go into the camp, and give her money 
 and her very life for her country, and Deborah can take 
 a musket and fight, I am so selfish that I was forgetting 
 one who never forgot me, and who was giving his life for 
 the cause of freedom. 
 
 Yes, Thomas was a true hero ; he always was ; and a 
 hero shall always be remembered. I can not get this 
 idea of my dead friend out of my mind; we neither of 
 us thought of such an ending when we Mere talking in 
 the lanes between the clover fields, or rocking in the 
 boat on Plymouth Bay. Thomas expected to do great 
 deeds, and rise to be a general, and save the country. 
 So I suppose many others dreamed. Perhaps Warren 
 and Montgomery had such thoughts, and yet how soon 
 they fell. 
 
 I have been feeling so sad over these things that I 
 looked sad, and I could not tell any one why. I felt 
 it a duty to be sorrowful. It was all the amends I could 
 make for having thought less of Thomas than he did of 
 me. Judith thought I was ill ; uncle declared that half 
 the life of the house was gone, and he began talking — of 
 all things! of Richard Reid — and it made me angry. I 
 will never think a thought of Richard Reid again, he 
 never cared for me as Thomas did ; of course he cares 
 for Hannah, and he ought to, she is much better than I. 
 True, he asked me for a lock of hair too, but I know he 
 would have lost it. Thomas kept his, and cared for it, 
 and held it in his hand when he died. 
 
 Hester said that I left her alone to keep the house 
 
438 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 bright, and that she Avould die of doing double duty, but 
 no wonder she can be gay. Thomas Otis will never 
 be any thing to her. Well, yesterday, I wanted some- 
 thing in Susannah's room, and knocked at the door, and 
 hearing no answer thought that it was empty and that I 
 might go in. But Susannah was there, only she had not 
 heard me. She was sitting on the floor crying over 
 something that lay in her lap. At first I meant to go 
 away, then I could not bear to leave her alone, and so I 
 ran and knelt down by her to comfort her. She had in 
 her lap the colonel's picture and ring. 
 
 "Oh, darling Susannah," I said, putting my arms around 
 her, " I did not know that you felt so ; you keep so cheer- 
 ful before us all." 
 
 " It would be wrong for me to burden the others with 
 my troubles," said Susannah, "we all have Charles to be 
 anxious for, and Judith has her care for Henry, and 
 father is always lonely for my mother, and so I must be 
 as cheerful as I can, for their sakes." 
 
 Her tears was still falling over her treasures. I said: 
 " Keep up your heart, my darling, he will surely come 
 back." 
 
 " He must be dead, or I would have heard," she sobbed. 
 
 " Mv uncle savs — unless he forffot," I said. 
 
 "Why, he could not forget ?7ic," said Susannah; "could 
 I forget him? No, he has been killed," she cried, bit- 
 terly. 
 
 Well, I tried my best to comfort Susannah. I told her 
 that maybe he was wounded, and would come back well ; 
 perhaps he had been taken prisoner or unexpectedly sent 
 
 I 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 439 
 
 home. How was it about Isaiah Hooper coming out of 
 prison that time, long after his wife believed him dead? 
 There Avas always hope, unless there was the fact of death ; 
 and so I comforted Susannah somewhat, and she made me 
 promise that I would not tell how I had found her griev- 
 ing. She would not add to the family sorrows, she said. 
 
 This rebuked me for my own indulgence in my feel- 
 ings. I had made a duty and virtue of sorrowing, but 
 Susannah's example showed me "a more excellent way," 
 and I know that Susannah truly is far more unhappy 
 than I am, for she has thought of her colonel every hour 
 in the day since he left. Yes, there is a time when 
 private sorrow must not be made too much of. Uncle 
 says that we have fallen on evil days, but the evil days 
 must come, and there must be a generation to suffer in 
 them, and then all that remains for us is to be firm and 
 patient, for the world's sake. These times are no harder 
 than the covenanters saw in Scotland in my great-great- 
 grandfather's time, nor worse than the days when the 
 Puritans came from England in those first bitter years of 
 the colonies, nor indeed are they so bad as the times of 
 religious persecutions in the valleys of Piedmont, and the 
 trials of the French Protestants, and the cruel hour of 
 Saint Bartholomew. 
 
 I think of what the apostle says, that " no temptations 
 have overtaken us but such as are common to men." Uncle 
 was talking to us about that last Sabbath morning at 
 prayers. Bessie was with us. She is part of the time here, 
 and part Avith Mistress Seaforth ; and that morning, as she 
 listened to uncle, she said : 
 
440 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 " But, oh, sir, sometimes your troubles are of your own 
 making, and then they are harder to bear ; " and she leaned 
 her head on my shoulder and cried. 
 
 My uncle said kindly, " Dear child, God will make a 
 way of escape even from them." 
 
 I remember my grandfather had in his study a motto 
 of which 'he was fond, though he told me it came from a 
 heathen poet, named Virgil, "God will give an end to 
 these evils also." 
 
 January 21, 1780. 
 
 Winter is always the hardest time for our troops and 
 our cause. The camp breaks more hearts and destroys 
 more lives than the field. The general has but few troops 
 with him this winter. He has sent Colonel Lee south 
 with the best cavalry. General Gates has been severely 
 judged for his losses in the South, has been removed from 
 command, and General Greene has charge of the Southern 
 Department. General Gates has retired to Virginia, where 
 General (the Baron) Steuben is now in charge. 
 
 General Washington has persuaded Congress to send 
 Colonel Laurens to Paris to ask a loan. Without such 
 help, Robert Morris says that he does not believe that 
 we can sustain our cause. General La Fayette said lately, 
 " Human patience has its limit, no European army would 
 suffer a tenth part of the cold, hunger, and nakedness 
 which the Americans endure. It takes citizens to sup- 
 port toil, neglect, pain, utter want of pay for the sake of 
 their cause and country." 
 
 Yes, this is so, but the endurance of citizens comes to 
 an end sometimes, especially if their government treats 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 441 
 
 them with stupidity, treachery, or injustice. We have 
 had a sample of this. The Pennsylvania troops are 
 again hutted at Morristown. Many of them had not 
 gotten even a paper dollar for a year, and their rations 
 were short, poor, or altogether wanting. The term of 
 their enlistment expired, and Congress, dreading to lose 
 soldiers of three years' experience, misconstrued, boldly 
 and wickedly, the terms of enlistment. To crown all, a 
 quantity of gold, destined for the army, was given, not to 
 the veterans, long unpaid, but to six months' recruits, to 
 pay them for enlisting for the war. And after all, as 
 usual, it was the M'hisky that did it — that " thief in the 
 mouth that steals away the brains." Our soldiers, on 
 New Year's, got too much whisky and too little of every 
 thing else, and so, between their wrongs and their liquor, 
 they mutinied. 
 
 The Pennsylvania line turned out en masse to march, 
 under conduct of their sergeants, to Philadelphia, and 
 demand from Congress decent treatment. General Wayne 
 is beloved by them, but could not control them. There 
 was an affray, in which several were wounded and killed 
 on both sides — of these, one captain. Thus, thirteen 
 hundred strong, with six field-pieces, they set out for 
 this city. General Wayne sent two officers to warn Con- 
 gress, and then with two colonels put himself among the 
 mutineers, and marched with them, a sort of honorable 
 prisoner. General Washington dared not leave his posi- 
 tion on "the Hudson, lest his troops should mutiny, or 
 Sir Henry Clinton should rush out of New York and 
 seize the Highlands. Clinton, by means of his spies, 
 
442 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 heard of the mutiny, and sent emissaries to the camp of 
 the insurgents, offering them any thing and every thing 
 if they would come over to him. Then he prepared his 
 troops on Staten Island, ready either to fly at the High- 
 lands if Washington left, or join arms with the insurgents 
 if they acceded to his proposals. 
 
 In this city we were in a state of horror. All seemed 
 lost. On went the mutineers to Princeton, and en- 
 camped. President Reed and a delegation from Congress 
 spurred oif to Trenton, to offer a redress of injuries. As 
 affairs were in this State, Sir Henry's envoys arrived full 
 of hope ; but they had reckoned without their host. The 
 mutineers' rage at Congress did not make them in love 
 with Britain. They were Americans, if they were insur- 
 gents ; so, deeply offended at Sir Henry for thinking they 
 would all turn '^Arnolds" they put his envoys in irons. 
 Hearing this. President Reed made one of his grand re- 
 marks, which sometimes come up from the depths of that 
 quiet and often seemingly timid and irresolute heart : " I 
 have but one life to lose, and my country has a right to it." 
 
 So off" he went to Princeton, sole representative of the 
 obnoxious government. President Reed was prepared to 
 make concessions and redress wrongs. He agreed to take 
 a just view of the enlistments ; to furnish clothes and 
 arms at once; to give certificates of arrears of pay; to 
 pay as soon as possible ; and to give forty days furlough 
 to all who desired it and would re-enlist. This satisfied 
 the troops. They agreed to return to duty ; and as a sign 
 of their feelings, they at once hung those two unfortunate 
 envoys or spies at the cross-roads. I am so sorry for 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 443 
 
 those men. Probably somebody cared for them, and they 
 were not fit to be hurried out of life. Oh, me, if they 
 had only stopped at home ! 
 
 March 26, 1781. 
 
 Robert Morris and his wife have been here to tea with 
 some other friends. The aifairs of the country engrossed 
 all the conversation. Mr. Morris and my uncle think 
 our prospects are brighter. They spoke of the French 
 loan, and say that we are poor just because our resources 
 are not organized and properly managed. Mr. Morris 
 says that we are really richer than France, and yet we 
 borrow of France. Our revenues from cotton, rice, sugar 
 and tobacco, should be great. We have unlimited wheat 
 and corn lands. What we need is unity. It is time, said 
 Robert Morris, to show the world that a monarchy is not 
 the only sign of unity ; that a republic can be a unit ; 
 there can be liberty, law, successful administration, with- 
 out kings. And now we have hope of all these, for at 
 last Congress has yielded to Washington, and has ap- 
 pointed Secretaries of War, State, and Finance. 
 
 On the 5th of February, Witherspoon of New Jersey, 
 and Burke of North Carolina, made proposals for vesting 
 taxing power in Congress, and this led the way to further 
 discussion of " Federal union," and on the first day of 
 March we had a grand historic day indeed, for Maryland, 
 the last of the thirteen States, signed the Articles of Con- 
 federation, making our country one forever. But, after all, 
 my uncle says, confederation is not union, and the States 
 must move on to such a union as our general urges upon 
 them, or there will be a lack of strength and stability. 
 
444 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 We have had a letter from Uncle Matthew Temple 
 from his plantation on the James River. That terrible 
 traitor Arnold has been ravaging Virginia, which is this 
 winter almost defenceless. Baron Steuben has been 
 obliged to send off most of his forces to help General 
 Greene in Carolina, and has only about six hundred men 
 left, and these are nearly destitute of tents, blankets, 
 clothes and arms. Uncle Matthew and some other gen- 
 tlemen have been on an expedition begging supplies for 
 the camp, and he says what they obtained was pitiably 
 insufficient to the need. Generals Greene, Gates, and 
 Steuben have warned the Virginia gentlemen to send 
 away or sell their horses, or they would serve to mount 
 the enemy, and furnish him with a formidable cavalry. 
 Only a few have done so. My uncle is one who has sent 
 his horses into western Pennsylvania ; he says he has now 
 in his stables only three aged hacks. 
 
 Arnold captured some vessels and came up the river, 
 plundering, burning, and destroying every thing. My 
 uncle and other planters who had tobacco warehouses in 
 Richmond rode into the city. Arnold sent word that, if 
 they would peaceably load his ships with tobacco at the 
 wharves, he would spare the town. He did not know 
 the high spirits he had to do with. The gentlemen re- 
 plied, that they would burn wharves and warehouses first; 
 and so Arnold came up, cleared the town, pillaged the 
 houses, and burnt the public edifices, shops and ware- 
 houses with the tobacco. 
 
 Uncle says that from the hills about the town, where 
 the Virginia gentlemen and the militia had retreated. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 445 
 
 they could hear the drunken orgies of Arnold's soldiers. 
 Virginia, thus ravaged, must for the present be unhelped, 
 for the cause demands the army in the Highlands and 
 the Carolinas; and so the Virginians are coolly sending 
 their men and stores south, suffering themselves to be 
 ravaged, and are waiting for the day when they can 
 avenge themselves in some glorious victory. 
 
 There have been two chief battles in the South this 
 wanter; that at Cowpens, on the 17th of January, wdiich 
 was a victory for us, and the battle of Guilford Court- 
 house, of which we had news by a special messenger to 
 the city this very morning, and where we suffered a de- 
 feat, and the victory of the British was as bad as a 
 defeat for them. Lord Cornwallis is in command of the 
 British forces in the South, and it is said that General 
 Greene has been leading him a fearful and perplexing 
 chase. Arnold still holds his place around the mouths 
 of the York and James rivers, doing what harm he can. 
 There is one comfort, the British do not like him any 
 better than we do ; they detest his mean treachery and 
 avarice, and the officers do not like to serve under him. 
 
 Henry Seaforth wrote to Judith that no honorable 
 officer of any rank whatsoever was willing to serve 
 under Arnold, and that his company was every-where 
 shunned. Henry also tells his mother that he is expect- 
 ing soon to be made major; and Mr. Seaforth had a letter 
 from Henry's colonel, speaking most highly of him, and 
 saying that he was universally popular. I do not wonder 
 at that, Captain Seaforth has his mother's sweet, gentle, 
 gracious ways, and his father's honest, brave, unaltering 
 
446 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 faithfulness; while in person we girls have decided that he 
 must be like those goodly Saxon knights of the days of 
 chivalry. As we sit at our sewing in tlie mornings, and 
 by chance talk of our friends, we often become enthusi- 
 astic about Henry, for he is kind as a brother to all of us. 
 Judith says nothing, but sits listening with a smiling face. 
 Henry sent a letter to Judith with the one that came to 
 his mother. He is heartily sick of the war. He says to 
 all intents and purposes the end is clear, and that further 
 fighting Avill but be an expenditure of blood and treasure, 
 and of many brave lives with no visible change in the 
 result. England can not hold America unless by Amer- 
 ica's hearty assent. 
 
 Well, that is all true ; but then Henry looks at some 
 things in his light and not in ours. He says that the 
 country north of the lakes and the St. Lawrence must 
 belong to Britain, because it so prefers. I daresay that 
 is so. We can not hold Canada against its consent, any 
 more than England can hold us. But Henry goes further : 
 he says that Virginia, and all south thereof, is England's 
 by conquest. It is in possession of the king's arms, and 
 must be held by him; and that a peace should be made, 
 giving the colonies all between Virginia and Canada, 
 west to the Mississippi, and England taking all the rest, 
 except what belongs to France and Spain. 
 
 That is the way Henry, as a British officer, regards it ; 
 but we Americans will fight longer before we consent to 
 such a dismemberment. What ! give England all our 
 fruit, rice, sugar, cotton and tobacco lands ? Why that 
 would be to yield the very fairest part of our possessions. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 447 
 
 Virginia is our foremost State in point of wealth, com- 
 merce, population ; and a Virginian is at the head of our 
 armies. And just because Virginia has sent her troops 
 North and South, as the best means ultimately of defend- 
 ing herself, and Arnold has ravaged the country, it is 
 held to belong to Britain by right of conquest. Evi- 
 dently the war is not ended yet if the British army 
 
 holds such views. 
 
 May 1, 1781. 
 
 The 1st of April we had a visit from Captain Richard 
 Reid. He had been all winter in Connecticut with his 
 company, which are cavalry, and was on his way to West 
 Point, where the general is. Hannah Dana is at ]\Iorris- 
 town. Richard told us that there were three great oper- 
 ations before the commander-in-chief, to succeed in either 
 of which would go far to finishing the war. These were, 
 an attack on New York and its capture ; this accomplished 
 would bring our enemy to terms at once. The seizure 
 of Arnold and the rout of his forces at Portsmouth ; this 
 would have a most salutary effect in Europe, where they 
 expect us to conquer our traitor, and it would arouse the 
 enthusiasm of the army ; and lastly, the defeat and eaj)ture 
 of Cornwallis and his army, which would be about as ef- 
 fectual in closing the war as the conquest of Clinton, for 
 the defeat of Cornwallis would restore to us the South, 
 and rob our enemies of nearly half their army. 
 
 All these achievements have been attempted. The 
 
 failure of the French fleet to combine with our land 
 
 forces has hitherto hindered the two former plans, and 
 
 the country yet looks to General Greene to combine with 
 29 
 
448 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 further northern reinforcements and effect the last. 
 Richard Reid said that he followed war from duty, not 
 from preference ; he would that an end Avould come, that 
 he might conclude his theological studies and follow the 
 profession which he had first chosen. He spoke eloquently 
 of the joys of peace, of the happiness of home life, and of 
 the honor and reward of pastoral work. 
 
 He preferred being with me, which is natural, as we 
 were old acquaintances ; but what is strange, he paid me 
 very particular attentions sometimes, and said words which 
 went l)eyond compliment. He has no right to speak so 
 to me when Hannah is away, and I have fully made up 
 my mind to be true to the memory of Thomas Otis, 
 because he was true to me. I rebuffed Richard right 
 sharply once or twice, and he was both hurt and offended. 
 Judith saw it, and she asked me why I so rejected Rich- 
 ard's attention. I said truly that they belonged to Han- 
 nah Dana, and that I would not rob her behind her back, 
 and she in the army. Judith lifted her eyebrows at that, 
 and remarked that she thought Richard regarded Hannah 
 as a sister. Now I do not see why that saying of 
 Judith's was pleasant to me. But it was, and I was so 
 angry with myself for such a fickleness, that I was hardly 
 civil to Mr. Reid so long as he remained. I would not 
 allow myself to be agreeable. 
 
 Mr. Reid went away in three days. The spring came 
 on pleasantly. By the end of the month we had doors 
 and windows open. Then such a delightful thing haj)- 
 pened only three days ago. We were at tea in our din- 
 ing-room, which is at the end of the loM'cr hall. Nervey 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 449 
 
 had just gone from the room with an empty tray, when 
 we heard her shriek, and the tray go crashing down into 
 the basement, and Nervey scuttling pell-mell after it. 
 We looked, listened. Uncle sprang up. There M'as a 
 soft, patting noise in the hall, the dining-room door was 
 pushed open, the steps had been of moccasined feet, there 
 stood Ta-ga-jute in a brave's dress — fringes, paint, feathers, 
 and the broadest kind of a smile ; and behind him, in 
 Indian garb, brown, lean, thin, Isaiah Hooper, come to 
 life once more ! 
 
 Ta-ga-jute paused to greet no one, he gripped Isaiah 
 by the arm, marched him over to me, and, radiant with 
 pleasure, said : 
 
 "Ta-ga-jute has done his errand; see, maiden, my white 
 brother is before you." 
 
 AVell, there was a shaking of hands and a congratula- 
 tion, and Nervey was persuaded to return with more 
 plates and provisions, and my uncle made Isaiah and 
 Ta-ga-jute sit down with us, and my Indian would sit 
 by me, and imitate all that I did. 
 
 After tea Ta-ga-jute must away to the Logan House, 
 where he had not stopped as he came into the city ; and 
 then Isaiah told us his story. He had been w^ounded 
 and captured by the Indians, and carried to the Shawnee 
 towns by a band of Cornstalk's braves. The first idea 
 was to kill him; then an Indian woman claimed him for 
 her husband, as her Indian had been killed. Isaiah was 
 offered his choice betAveen the wife or death, and he 
 elected to die. But this Indian woman had an enemy, an 
 old squaw, who was completely delighted at Isaiah's re- 
 
450 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 jection of the wife, and she came forward and claimed 
 him as a son. Isaiah agreed to be her son, and as she 
 was very old, he had plenty to do to wait on her and 
 provide for her. 
 
 The Indians conceived qnite a liking for him, chiefly 
 
 THE LOGAN HOUSE. 
 
 because he was religious, kept the Sabbath, asked a bless- 
 ing on his food, and sang hymns. Often he had all the 
 camp in a circle around him while he sang. Once he 
 escaped, but was recaptured and threatened with death if 
 he did so arain. He was closely watched, and had de- 
 spaired of ever getting home, when Ta-ga-jute came to 
 the Shawnee town, and after a few days had a private 
 talk with him, found he was his man, and persuaded 
 Cornstalk to give him up. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 45 1 
 
 Isaiah had been divided between desire to go home 
 for a visit, and to regain the army. Logan would let 
 him do neither, but brought him straight to me. We 
 expected that Isaiah would now go home; but no, he 
 wrote to his wife, refitted at my uncle's expense, and in 
 two days he set off for West Point, resolved, as he says, 
 to stand by the cause of the Colonies — or rather of these 
 States — until either he dies, or they are completely victori- 
 ous. He says he gave himself heart and body to the 
 cause, and he will stick to that cause so long as Wash- 
 ington does. When peace is declared he will be the 
 happiest man alive, will hasten home, and desire never 
 to go six miles from his own door-stone. 
 
 There would be no mutinies if all soldiers Mere like 
 Isaiah. He has had no pay ; no clothes ; starvation 
 rations; has been a prisoner, dying on New York liulks; 
 has been several times wounded ; has been captive to 
 the Indians ; has not seen his family for six years ; and 
 he scorns the idea of retiring from the service so long as 
 the country needs one arm raised in its defense. And 
 once I wondered if heroes were left yet in this world, 
 and if plain men like Isaiah could be heroic! How hun- 
 grily he listened to the news of his wife and children 
 which I read him from Deborah's letter. He has gone 
 to camp. I wonder if Judith is right, that Richard only 
 regards Hannah as his sister. 
 
452 -P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y. 
 
 I 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 May 28, 1781. 
 
 T seems as if I had lived all my life since the last writ- 
 ing in my journal. I have thought I could not and 
 would not write down this terrible thing that has come 
 to pass, but after a long while Judith tells me the pain- 
 ful impression will wear off, and then I shall be glad that 
 I have written this out while all was fresh in my mind. 
 Uncle and the rest say that I am nervous and prostrated 
 by excitement, and all that, but I will not yield to my 
 feelings and trouble all the rest. I will be like our 
 Susannah, of a quiet courage. Well, but this is not my 
 story ; I see that, as is usual with me, I am " writing 
 around " what is painful. 
 
 No sooner had Mr. Reid got to camp than he came 
 back to the city on some business for the cavalry which 
 would take him about a week; of course he came here, 
 as uncle has always bidden him do. Uncle Matthew was 
 here at the same time, and Uncle Matthew is always 
 thinking of some pleasure for us. The weather was good 
 and the roads splendid, and Uncle Matthew had some fine 
 horses with him which he had brought up from Virginia, 
 and he proposed that we should have a riding party up 
 the river where the scenery is very fine. We set out — 
 Mr. Seaforth and Judith, Uncle John and Hester, Uncle 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 453 
 
 Matthew and Susannah, and Mr. Reid and I, about one 
 o'clock on a fine afternoon. 
 
 All went pleasantly. Just as we were about turning our 
 horses toward home, I saw a drover with several good 
 cattle near us, and I laughingly pointed them out to 
 Richard, telling him it was a pity they were not near 
 camp where meat is always a-wanting, that he might drive 
 them in. Just then Richard said that he had heard of a 
 French settler, an excellent saddler, who lived about 
 two miles further up the river, and that he would com- 
 bine business and pleasure by going up to speak with 
 him, and he asked my uncle's leave for me to go with 
 him. As we parted from the rest, I looked back and 
 saw that the drover, who had been sulkily regarding us, 
 put his cattle in a jfield and struck out for the river. "We 
 rode rapidly to the Frenchman's. Richard engaged him 
 for some work, and we turned homewards. 
 
 Richard said we must go more slowly, and he rode near 
 me, and began to talk of when the war would be over, and 
 of Plymouth, and asked me if I never felt that I would - 
 like to be in the old place again. Xow he knows per- 
 fectly well that I prefer that rocky old coast to any spot 
 in the world, but I would not say so to him, and I felt 
 vexed with him, as he intends to return there some day; 
 and I said more sharply than truthfully, that my Uncle 
 John's house was better by far, and I would be very 
 foolish ever to think of leaving a place where I had no 
 trouble, and every thing was done to please me. 
 
 Richard remarked, "that however pleasant the early 
 home was, young maidens sometimes thought it well to 
 
454 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 go in a home of their own when some one desired it 
 very much." 
 
 I tossed my head, saying, "Those were the silly girls 
 who did not know when they were well off; that once 
 Judith and Susannah were married, if we could but get 
 Hester to be as foolish, my Uncle John and I would 
 have the peace of our lives, with ourselves and our 
 books." 
 
 Eichard rode along looking here and there as not very 
 pleased, when all of a sudden he dashed his horse across 
 the head of mine, pushing mine back with his arm. The 
 two horses reared, there was the crack of a pistol, a bullet 
 flew whistling over my head, and Richard fell upon the 
 road between the horses. I sprang from my horse and 
 bent over Mr. Reid, striving to lift him, but that I was 
 quite unable to do. The two horses drew quietly aside — 
 good beasts — and I tried to tie up with my kerchief a 
 wound along Richard's head. He looked dead, or just 
 dying, and I bent over him crying and mourning, and 
 looking for sign of life, when some one dragged me up 
 by the waist, and I found myself in the clutches of the 
 drover — Brown, the spy. 
 
 "Curse you," he cried, "that bullet didn't do its work, 
 but I swore I'd kill you, and I will." 
 
 " Let me go ! " I screamed, " you have killed him ! Let 
 me go." 
 
 " I saw you point me out to him," he said; "you've been 
 the means of my failing twice before. I'm not safe so 
 long as you're on the earth. No thanks to you that the 
 limb broke that they hung rae on." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 455 
 
 He began dragging me through the bushes to the high 
 cliffs on the river side, crying: 
 
 " Water will do it, if the shot missed." 
 
 I seized the trees and bushes in my terror, and he tore 
 me from them, blood streaming from my cut hands. I filled 
 the air with shrieks. It seemed hours that he AVi'.s pull- 
 ing me toward that cliflp; and I can see now, when I close 
 my eyes, all the world as it looked to me then — the liroad 
 sunlight on the road, the horses with heads down, looking 
 at Richard lying dead in the road, the new summer green 
 of the woods, the blue skies; and though my heart had 
 seemed to die when Richard fell from his horse, the 
 instinct of life was strong, and I screamed for help, and 
 clutched at the brushwood, so that Brown had all he 
 could do to drag me backward to the cliff. I felt then, 
 that my last hope was to clasp him closely. I whirled 
 round with all my strength in his grasp, and seized 
 him about the waist, locking my hands behind him. "We 
 were close to the precipice — he cursing, I screaming, and 
 the struggle engaging all his strength of rage and mine 
 of despair. I saw nothing, heard nothing, but suddenly 
 a great bronze arm came over each of my shoulders, and 
 two huge, dark, wiry hands clutched Brown's throat. At 
 once the ruffian's grasp loosened from me, and he strove 
 to work his hands between me and himself. 
 
 "Hold his arms, girl!" hissed a voice in my ear. 
 
 Helped by the clasp of the yet unseen friend, I got 
 first one arm and then the other clasped over Brown, who 
 had evidently striven to get a knife from his bosom. A 
 horrible moment! I was held between the two combat- 
 
I 
 
 456 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 ants, and nnder the grip of those dark, firm hands. 
 Brown's face grew purple, his eyes and tongue protruded. 
 The voice cried : 
 
 " Slip from between us, girl ! " 
 
 I struggled from that grasp of death, and Ta-ga-jute 
 held Brown on the verge of suffocation. I screamed : 
 
 " Let go, let go ! you will kill him ! " 
 
 A dark look swept over the Indian's face like a flash 
 of lightning, his hands fell from his adversary's throat to 
 his waist, and before I knew Avhat he meant, he caught 
 the half senseless Brown from the earth, and hurled him 
 sheer over the cliff. 
 
 I gave a cry of horror, but the deed was done. The 
 doomed wretch crashed into the dark water. One second 
 he rose before my horrified eyes, and then the current 
 bore him down and under, and out of my sight. 
 
 " You have killed him," I cried. 
 
 "There you would have been," said Ta-ga-jute, pointing 
 to the river, " and there is your brave ! " He pointed to 
 the road. I waited no other word, I dashed back 
 through the trees and undergrowth, the Indian close be- 
 hind me. Richard lay as before, motionless in blood 
 and dust, but I fancied as I sank on my knees by him 
 that \'i\^ eye-lids quivered. Ta-ga-jute took up Richard's 
 hat, and dashed off toward a small creek that wound 
 tov/ard the river near us. He was back in a moment, 
 water streaming from the hat. He went again and again 
 for water to dash on Richard's face, and after one of his 
 excursions treated me to a shower also. 
 
 Finally Ricliard opened his eyes, but lay looking at 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 457 
 
 me for a long while in an uncertain way. At last, rec- 
 oUeotion seemed to return, lie said : 
 
 " Safe, thank God ! " 
 
 Then from my excitement I began to cry wildly over 
 him, and he clasped my hand, saying : 
 
 " Poor little girl ! " and closed his eyes. 
 
 Ta-ga-jute was a rough-and-ready doctor. He shook his 
 patient out, searching for injuries ; ran his finger along 
 the wound on his head, and said : 
 
 '' Hoh, won't die." 
 
 His grunt sounded like music to me. Then he set me 
 on my feet, smoothed my disordered dress, and brushing 
 off the dust with a kindly touch, said : 
 
 "Poor girl — pretty near a kill — pretty much scared." 
 
 Then he put me on my horse, bidding mfe "be brave 
 awhile," and supported Richard with himself on the other 
 horse, and so we crept along for a mile to a farm-house. 
 
 It was sunset. The people seemed to know Logan, 
 and knew my uncle's name. They Avere very kind, and 
 asked few questions. The farmer got out a cart, laid 
 hay and a blanket in it, and put Richard on it, and I sat 
 beside him. Tlie good woman had bound up Richard's 
 wound, and gave him a little currant wine, and me some 
 milk and bread. Then Ta-ga-jute took the horse by the 
 head, left our two horses with the farmer, and in this 
 fashion we got into the city, and by good fortune it was 
 dark when Ave reached the houses. 
 
 My uncle's family were all in a great fright about us. 
 They put their patients to bed and sent for the doctor. 
 I was quite ill for two or three days. When I got better 
 
458 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Judith told me that Mr. Reid was able to go about his 
 room, and in a fair way to be soon well. Tiie ball had 
 passed along the side of his head, cutting the scalp, with- 
 out penetrating the bone, but producing insensibility. 
 He had seen the pistol aimed from behind a tree at me — 
 had dashed before me to save me, and the motion had 
 deranged the assassin's aim, and the ball had made this 
 close miss of cntcrino; liis brain. As soon as Cousin Ju- 
 dith had told me these things, I began to cry like a great 
 baby. 
 
 "What is the matter?" cried Hester. 
 
 " I 'ra glad, so glad ! for poor Hannah Dana's sake, that 
 he was not killed," I sobbed. 
 
 " Tuts," cried Hester. " I 'm glad for his own ; he is 
 as much too good to be killed by a spy as Thomas Otis 
 is to be killed by an Indian. Sure, enough have been 
 shot this war without them." 
 
 There it was. Hester did not know what I did, 
 that Thomas was dead, and had died thinking of me. 
 I could not tell them without telling all the story about 
 that, and I did not want to. To be sure, Richard had 
 offered his life for mine. Thomas Otis could not do more 
 than that ; but then there is Hannah. I asked after Ta- 
 ga-jute. He had brought home our horses next day, and 
 told Judith that he was going to Detroit. 
 
 The fate of Brown much oppressed me. It was so 
 awful to see him die, and he so wicked and unfit, and 
 then I thought of his family. I shall write to Joseph 
 Dana, and ask after the family, and tell him that Brown 
 is dead, and if the wife and children are in need I will 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 459 
 
 send some money for them. When I fall asleep, I see at 
 once Brown strangling in the Indian's hands, or flying 
 over the cliff to the swift water, or Richard lying in the 
 road. Somehow I could not get over that scene. Mr. 
 Reid got well and went away. I did not see him, but he 
 left kind messages with Judith. Uncle Matthew returned 
 to Virginia. My Uncle John kept three of his horses 
 for him, and we are now going near Trenton for the 
 summer. Bessie wants to stay here with Mistress Sea- 
 forth. Uncle John thinks I need change after the shock 
 of this excitement, and he has hired a house of one of his 
 friends. It is on the river above Trenton, and we shall 
 go there quite soon. Uncle says the pure air and out-of- 
 door life and exercise will do all of us good. 
 
 June 20, 1781. 
 This is a charming spot, and we are enjoying our sum- 
 mer wonderfully, although there are drawbacks to our 
 happiness. Susannah hears nothing from the colonel. 
 He was South, m'c learned long ago, and many have been 
 killed there in skirmishes and nameless fights, and many 
 a brave man of either side has been buried in the Southern 
 swamps. Charles is with General La Fayette — therefore 
 in a i^lace of danger; and frequently when we are out in 
 the pleasant fields, along the bright banks of the river, or 
 seeking flowers and mosses in the bird- haunted woods, 
 there comes to us a thought of the danger that is about 
 the . only son of the house — a vision of the battle-fields, 
 and scattered wounded or unburied dead, that checks all 
 our mirth, and we each know the thought of the other, 
 although we do not speak. I fancy Judith is quite at 
 
460 PATRIOT AND TORY : 
 
 rest about Henry, because he is now in New York, and 
 there is little prospect of fighting there. 
 
 We had a letter from Uncle Matthew. He says that 
 the persistence of Virginia gentlemen, in keeping their 
 blood horses in their stables, has accomplished the fore- 
 warned result. They have been the means of mounting 
 the enemy so well, that nothing possessed by our army is 
 a match for them. Greene, Cornwallis, La Fayette, 
 Tarleton, Morgan, Butler, maneuver, maraud, march, 
 countermarch, skirmish, advance, retire, and fill the 
 Southern scene of action with such a stirring and swiftly- 
 changing picture, that wdiat is done and undone can 
 hardly be understood. There is talk of peace negotia- 
 tions, and we have strong hopes of returning home in the 
 fall with the certainty that there shall be no more fight- 
 ing on this continent for these present years at least. 
 
 August 10, 1781. 
 
 Yes, peace may come, and when that glad news spreads 
 abroad, I think we, of all others, shall know what it has 
 cost ! We are once more at home, but have come not as 
 we went forth, nor as we had hoped to return, Avith glad- 
 ness of heart. How well it is, as often, my grandfather 
 said to us, that God hides the future. It Mas well for us, 
 when those peaceful days drifted on in golden brightness 
 and summer gain, that we did not know what was to come 
 on that pitiful 21st of July. I remember that I was 
 reading on the porch overlooking the river. Judith and 
 the other two girls were in the sitting-room, in the back 
 of the house. My uncle, as was his wont, strolled up and 
 down bv his bee-hives. A horseman — his horse all foam 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 4(31 
 
 and trembling with fatigue — clashed up to the gate, just as 
 my uncle reached it in his walk, and handed him a note. 
 
 Uncle John is one of those prompt men who never 
 waste a minute, a word, a thought. He threw open the 
 gate, and as the man sprang from his horse he led it 
 briskly toward the stable, crying, " Peter ! Pompey ! " to 
 the two who were picking fruit in the garden, and pass- 
 ing the milk-house pushed open the door, and evidently 
 ordered the stranger to drink what he would. I leaned 
 from the porch to watch. In one moment my uncle and 
 the servants were putting saddle and bridle on one of our 
 fleet horses. At once he led it out. The messenger had 
 finished drinking. As he mounted uticle added a line to 
 the note, returned it to him, pointed down the lane. The 
 man put spurs to his steed, and was off like the wind, on 
 the Philadelphia road, in five minutes from his coming. 
 Peter and Pompey were fiercely busy in the stable, and 
 my uncle was by me. 
 
 "Abbey, Henry is mortally wounded. Get on your 
 riding-dress." 
 
 He passed down the hall, and I followed in a daze of 
 horror. Hester was reading aloud. Susannah, once our 
 idle one, but now desperately busy, was sewing. Judith 
 leaned back in her chair in a sort of liappy muse. My 
 uncle stepped up to her, took her face between his hands, 
 kissed her forehead, while his tears fell on it, and said : 
 
 " God help you, my poor girl ! " 
 
 She knew all he could tell her, and rose up white and 
 silent. My uncle said : 
 
 "Susannah, get your sister her habit. Hester, make 
 
462 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 up a bag for her/' and in an instant, in a terrible silence, 
 we were preparing for our journey. Preparation did not 
 take many minutes — not ten. The horses were at the 
 door. Uncle lifted Judith to the saddle. Pompey had 
 waited on me. Peter held the gate open. Uncle cried, 
 " Girls, see to the place " — and we three were rushing 
 madly up the road to Princeton. 
 
 It was five o'clock or thereabout when we started. 
 My uncle had shouted to Pompey to have a horse ready 
 in the early morning for Mr. Seaforth. At Princeton and 
 at New Brunswick he gave the same order; and so we 
 flew on, first through the red sunset light and then in 
 clear white moonshine, sparing little our good beasts; 
 and before midnight we were entering Matouchin. 
 
 A man stood watching on the highway. He called to 
 my uncle, "Are you for the British officer? — this way," 
 and we followed him up a country road for about half a 
 mile to a great stone barn. All was silent. The large 
 doors were open and two lanterns hung within. As my 
 uncle lifted Judith from her seat I saw a woman sitting 
 on a truss of hay, and bent to watch a prostrate form. 
 In a moment we were within. A soldier boy, weary on 
 his watch, slept with his head on his knees, a wounded 
 man tossed in an uneasy slumber in a corner. The sleep- 
 less watcher was Hannah Dana, and she had spared no 
 pains to give a look of easy rest to Henry Seaforth, by 
 whom she sat. Hannah rose up, but did not speak. She 
 moved away as Judith fell on her knees, and tearless laid 
 her face against Henry's neck. Hannah had made a 
 comfortable couch of hay, and covered it with a white 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 463 
 
 blanket, borrowed from tlie farm-house. She had cut off 
 Henry's coat and boots, jilaced him in a restful position, 
 covered him partly with a sheet, and bathed the dust of 
 battle from his face and hands, and from his beautiful 
 fair hair. He looked like one " taking of rest in sleep," 
 breathing and unconscious. As we stood by him in too 
 great awe and anguish to speak, Hannah said : 
 
 "God is good. He has known no pain — not even 
 when struck. See the peaceful expression of his face. 
 The ball is in his brain, and he fell unconscious at once. 
 Most die immediately of such a wound. I believe God 
 spared him for vou to jret here." 
 
 "Will he live until his father comes?" whispered 
 Uncle John. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Hannah ; and then my uncle drew her 
 aM'ay to the door, and we went and stood in the moon- 
 light, to leave Judith alone Avith her love and woe, and 
 to hear from Hannah how this thing had come about. 
 
 She told us that as nearly as she could learn from the 
 wounded prisoner in the corner, Captain Seaforth and his 
 company had landed from Staten Island at the instance 
 of some royalists who lived on the Jersey shore, and who 
 had collected a drove of cattle to send into the city. 
 Captain Seaforth and his men were to cover the embarka- 
 tion of this live stock. While it was taking place they 
 were attacked by a strong party of Jersey militia, and 
 these being repulsed, retreated, but succeeded in captur- 
 ing a first lieutenant, a close friend of Henry's. Gallantry 
 and affection drew Henry in pursuit to regain his friend. 
 
 In the skirmish, the lieutenant got back to his companv, 
 30 
 
46-4 ■ PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 but Henry was left for dead, one or two wounded. The 
 militia were reinforced and drove back the British, com- 
 pelling them to leave their M'ounded on the field. The 
 leader of the Americans was the owner of their farm 
 and was wounded, with several of his men. All the 
 wounded were gathered with equal care, and carried to- 
 ward Matouchin. Hannah heard of the skirmish, as she 
 had been on her way to the vicinity of West Point, and 
 she had turned aside to care for the wounded, meeting 
 the returning militia. 
 
 She had recognized Henry, and had him and the other 
 British removed to this barn, believing it quite as com- 
 fortable as the small and crowded farm-houses already 
 receiving the American wounded. Knowing where we 
 were, she had bribed a messenger to make haste to my uncle's 
 house, and he had gone oif at full speed before noon. 
 Having told this story, Hannah went to visit her patients, 
 bathed the head of one, gave another water, arranged a 
 better pillow for a third. Henry alone needed no care. 
 She then drew a shawl about her, and throwing herself 
 back on a pile of hay, was soon asleep. The moonlight 
 fell over her. She looked so white, and worn, and old, 
 her cap coming closely about her thin face. And what a 
 tireless courage ; what a full self-sacrifice ; what a heart 
 of sympathy had been in all her speech ! 
 
 Judith sat by Henry, holding his hand, her eyes never 
 turned from his motionless face. I knelt by her, and 
 put my arms about her. She only said : 
 
 " O Abbey, if he could speak but one word more to 
 me ! " 
 
OXE HUXDEED YEARS AGO. 465 
 
 . What a night that was. I think if people look back 
 over their histories, they will wonder how almost every 
 bitter crisis of their lives, every conflict and victory of 
 death, every trembling horror, and terrible loss came in 
 the night. Perhaps this is why we are promised " no 
 night there," no more this hour and power of darkness 
 that has been made bitter to our souls. 
 
 Hours went by like years. My uncle kept pacing up 
 and down on the green sod that came to the very door, 
 sometimes softly coming in, looking tearfully at Henry, 
 laying his hand on Judith's head, as in prayer and bless- 
 ing, and going back to his walk, searching the distance 
 for his friend long before Mr. Seaforth could come. The 
 moon set, and the stars faded, and great red and primrose 
 lights ran up the east, and the middle sky shone like that 
 vision of a sapphire throne. Oh, how can a world be so 
 lovely that looks on death ? 
 
 With the light, Hannah rose up, attended to her pa- 
 tients, went to the farm-house and prepared food for them, 
 and then, ever thoughtful, brought a tray to us with 
 coffee and food. My uncle ate a little and so did I, then 
 he carried a cup of coffee to Judith. She put it by until 
 he said, " For my sake, daughter," and then she drank it. 
 There was no change all that morning. It was a hot day. 
 The birds and the flowers seemed smothered. What little 
 air stirred, stole through the great open doors of that 
 barn. The reapers were a-field ; we heard now and again 
 the echo of their voices, or the sound of the whetstone. 
 Hannah told us the wounded in the houses, all of whom 
 she had visited, would probably recover. The time 
 
466 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 seemed so long until Mr. Seaforth should come. My 
 uncle sent a boy to meet him at the turning. A doctor — 
 a genial-fliced old man — came to see the wounded, and 
 looked with such compassionate eyes on Judith, that 
 I blessed him from my heart. 
 
 At ten there was some change in Henry ; the iron 
 chain of unconsciousness seemed weakening or relaxing a 
 little. Mv uncle looked nervously, first at his watch, 
 then up the road. Another hour, and we heard the fierce 
 beat of hoofs, and saAV Mr. Seaforth dashing up the lane, 
 his white hair flying over his shoulders. We knew that 
 he would come alone, neither Mrs. Seaforth nor xA.nnie 
 were equal to that hard, long ride. He threw himself 
 from his horse. 
 
 " My poor Harry ! " cried my uncle, and those two old 
 men were weeping, in each other's arms, the ruin of their 
 dearest mutual hopes. 
 
 I could not go inside that place then. Crying and 
 mourning I stood without. Mr. Seaforth's horse was wet 
 and trembling, and stood shaking, its head down and its 
 feet wide apart. I beckoned the boy who had watched 
 the road, and had him cover the creature, rub his sides 
 and legs, throw water on its feet, and prepare it for food 
 and drink. It somehow comforted me to care for the 
 poor beast which had carried its master so nobly. Fi- 
 nally I stole back to the barn. Henry's head had been 
 laid on Judith's lap, Hannah stood behind her, and the 
 two fathers sat at his feet. His state seemed growing 
 more like sleep than insensibility, and finally, about 
 noon, he breathed deeper, stirred, his face changed, and 
 
OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 467 
 
 he looked up. There was no light of reason in the 
 glance, and softly the lids fell again. This happened 
 once or twice, and then he roused, a joyous recognition 
 smiling from his eyes, as he saw Judith's face bent near 
 his. The soul strove for its departing dominion over the 
 body — it was full strange to see those fleeting faculties 
 return at some master summons. 
 
 He spoke: "My Judith! dear, I had dreamed of nmr, 
 of parting; and it was only a dream. You are here, my 
 wife — and we two never part. I did not know that on 
 earth one could feel so glad at heart as I do now." 
 
 His face fairly shone with a strange joy, and all at 
 once he seemed to see through depths of some bright 
 distance far beyond Judith's face, and as he looked the 
 light of life seemed not to shrink back toward a failing 
 heart, as I have marked others die ; but in that bright 
 smile and eager gaze, to pass out and be away, as I have 
 seen birds lift up from pleasant nooks of earth, and be 
 lost in sunny spaces. 
 
 Then all was silence for a time, until I heard the 
 voice of my uncle — who prays when he is glad, when he 
 is sorrowful, when he is at peace, when he is fearful; in 
 all time of rejoicing, or of Avoe — in prayer. And then 
 again there was silence, and we looked at our dead, and 
 the sobs of those old men rose up painfully, with my 
 wild crying, who had lost less than any of them ; and I 
 saw Hannah Dana, the silent and usually unmoved, drop 
 down by Judith, and throwing her arms about her, cry : 
 
 " Oh, I can pity you — I know how your heart is break- 
 ing ! This loss was as mine, that has darkened all mv life." 
 
468 PATRIOT AND TOEY: 
 
 And this word at last .stirred the fountain of Judith's 
 tears. Her own sorrow had been so deep, so sudden, so 
 desolating, that she had been dumb and tearless, but at 
 this cry of Hannah's long pain, the tears flowed. 
 
 Another space, and then my uncle and Mr. Seaforth 
 went out together. Hannah lifted Henry's head from 
 Judith's lap, pressed close his eyelids, and folded his 
 hands over his chest, then she drew Judith from her 
 place, and led her away through the rear .door of the 
 barn, where a brook ran under some willow trees — and I 
 was left alone standing by that still, restful form, where 
 a smile yet lay on the face. There was a great silence, 
 as if all the world had died in that one ; there was a glow 
 and brightness, as if the very possibility of death had been 
 done away. A broad bar of light streamed through the 
 open doors, and two pigeons slid down that golden gleam, 
 winnowing the sunshine with their wide white wings. The 
 sunshine, the snowy, fearless birds, the fragrance on the 
 summer air, the murmur of the brook — all this life and 
 beauty, as a setting to that picture of death, seemed some- 
 how strangely in accord with the Henry whom we had 
 known and loved so well. A bright life, gone up through 
 all this brightness toward those sunny skies, and that 
 promise of good things to come. 
 
 What a tower of strength was Hannah. She found us 
 a messenger to send to Philadelphia. She cared for us all, 
 forestalled all our plans, prepared us resting-places, and 
 while Judith and Mr. Seaforth sat by Henry, Hannah 
 went with my uncle to find some one to prepare a coffin, 
 and to find conveyance for it to the city. Henry was 
 
OSE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 469 
 
 dressed in his uniform. Hannah took such pains to 
 make it look bright and nice, " It was a uniform that he 
 honored as a man and a soldier," said she to me; "had 
 every man who went to the war been like this man, there 
 would have been no record of cruelties, or treacheries, or 
 indignities to write." 
 
 Uncle John told me that it was Mr. Seaforth's plan 
 to bury Henry in the vault at the Logan House. He 
 thought, as the times were unsettled and Henry had been 
 for years a British officer, it would be wiser and safer to 
 bury there at once. Until then it had not occurred to 
 me that any one could see less cause to weep for Henry or 
 give less sympathy to his parents because he had been a 
 British officer ; that was his conscience and duty, and 
 honorably was it performed. For ourselves his loss was 
 as bitter to us as if it had been Charles — less to Susannah 
 and me perhaps, and more to Judith. 
 
 AYc left Matouchin at midnight. AYe had rested for 
 several hours, and had been served with supper. The peo- 
 ple at the farm were very good and pitiful to us, and the 
 farmer's wife gave me choice of lilies and violets and 
 roses, and I strewed them all over Henry before Judith 
 took her last look ; and I cut off some of his curls. The 
 coffin was closed and put in a covered w^agon. Uncle and 
 I rode before it, Judith and Mr. Seaforth followed. 
 
 We changed horses at Princeton, and we rested there, 
 also at New Brunswick for a little. When we drew near 
 Trenton, a carriage joined us with Hester and Susannah 
 within, and Pompey and Peter on the box. The blacks 
 wore white napkins pinned above their elbows. Pompey, 
 
470 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 honest soul, was full of sympathy. He said to my 
 uncle : 
 
 "Oh, Mass' Temple, I jes done broke up; -wish 'twas 
 Pomp ; 'n 'ole nigger like me jes as well die as not, but its 
 hard to spare sech a young man as Mass' Henry." And I 
 believe the good fellow truly felt it. 
 
 Judith went in the carriage with Susannah, and Hester 
 took her horse. "We crossed the river and went down the 
 Pennsylvania side. When we came to Germantown, the 
 carriage with Mrs. Seaforth, Annie and Bessie, followed 
 by the Seaforth servants, joined us. That was a very 
 bitter hour. I verily thought dear Mrs. Seaforth must 
 die in losing her son. It was then six o'clock. My un- 
 cle's messenger had done his part well. As we came near 
 the Logan House, the Logan family and servants came 
 out to meet us, and with them the minister who has Mr. 
 Duche's church. As it was growing late we passed at 
 once by the carriage way to the foot of the hill, and 
 then the six black servants carried the coffin into the 
 vault and set it in the niche prepared for it. ISIiss Logan 
 then went in and spread beautiful flowers and wreaths 
 over it, and the rector read the burial service, Pompey 
 holding a light at his shoulder. It was growing very 
 dark under the side of the hill, and in the shadow of the 
 trees. The rector in his robes stood in the door of the 
 vault ; the blacks were standing inside waiting to close 
 up the facing, and Ave gathered about the door. This had 
 been a very lovely spot to me ; very often I had gathered 
 violets and daffodils under these maples, or come here for 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 471 
 
 autumn leaves, little thinking what a shadow of death 
 was to fall over the place. 
 
 We all went to our home in the city that night. Our 
 pleasant stay in Trenton had been too rudely broken up 
 for us to renew it. Hester returned with uncle after a 
 few days to bring away Nervey and what things we had 
 left there. The care of the home has for the most part 
 fallen to me. I am very glad to be able to come between 
 Judith and many little wearing cares. And yet Judith 
 does not wish to abandon her duties and her family inter- 
 ests. She was quite ill from grief and exhaustion for a 
 few days after our return. Then she came down stairs 
 and took her place at the head of the table again. She 
 had put on deep black, not saying any thing about it, 
 but with the air of one who never expects to put it off. 
 
 Mrs. Seaforth is completely prostrated by her loss, and 
 is not able to leave her room. Annie remains with her 
 mother, and now Bessie shows strikingly the change that 
 has come over her. She has quietly taken Mrs. Sea- 
 forth's place, and cares for the Avhole house, thinks for 
 Annie and her mother, directs the servants, and sees 
 thoroughly to Mr. Seaforth's comfort. It is wonderful 
 what a blessing she is to them, and how she is repaying 
 Mrs. Seaforth for all her care, and sympathy, and good 
 teaching. 
 
 Yesterday I found Susannah sitting listlessly by the win- 
 dow of her room, her hands dropped in her lap, looking out 
 with a very sad face. I stood by her, not knowing what 
 word might be comfortable, when she suddenly said to me : 
 
472 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 "Judith has one comfort — she saw Henry in his last 
 hours, she heard his last word, and knows where he is 
 buried," 
 
 I knew what she meant, and also how she was deceiv- 
 ing herself. I said: 
 
 "And you fancy that Colonel Nelson has been killed, 
 and that you lack that comfort that Judith has had, but 
 do you not see that you have two comforts that she has 
 not? She has the certainty of loss, you have a secret 
 hope against your fears. It is the long silence that pains 
 you, Susannah, and not the belief that Colonel Nelson is 
 dead. I know you too well to think that you could keep 
 up the calm and repression that you do, if you were sure 
 that he were gone. From hour to hour you have the 
 hope that this silence will be broken and explained, and 
 though, as Solomon says, 'hope deferred maketh the 
 heart sick,' yet so long as there is hojie the heart is not 
 broken. And, Susannah, you are a Temple, and you have 
 another emotion coming to your aid, and that is j^ride. 
 You see the possibility — though you will not admit that 
 you see it — that this man has proved forgetful, and you fight 
 against grief while there is the bare possibility that you 
 may mourn one M'ho has lightly relinquished you." 
 
 Susannah, half crying, had hidden her face in her 
 hands, while I was speaking to her. She looked up, 
 brushing away her tears, her eyes sparkled. 
 
 " lie is not false, and perhaps he is not dead. I will keep 
 on fighting to believe the best. How did you come to 
 be so keen at reading hearts and thoughts. Abbey ? Pray, 
 did you ever read your own?" 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 473 
 
 Kow this was skillfully carrying the war into the enemy's 
 territory, and coming upon ground where I could not 
 skirmish to advantage. I had rallied Susannah's spirits, 
 and that was all that I wanted, so I ran away to take 
 counsel with Nervey over a pudding. 
 
 Last evening w^e had a flying visit from Charles. He 
 comes with dispatches from General La Fayette, and is to 
 receive promotion and remain for the time on the staff 
 of the commander-in-chief. He was hastening toward 
 the Hudson, reached here yesterday at five, and was off 
 this morning at seven. Hester was the first to meet him 
 as he came in, and she told him of our and the Seaforth's 
 great loss. Poor Charles ! it was a sad story to him, for 
 he had loved Henry as a brother. He divided his short 
 visit between us and the Seaforth's, the best that he could. 
 
 There is a general feeling of expectation in the country, 
 that some decisive move is about to be made. Will our 
 general find an opportunity to seize New York, or will 
 the victory be in the South, and so secure our thirteen 
 States intact? We are in sore need of help from some 
 quarter. Charles says that General La Fayette is clothing 
 and providing for his American troops in the most liberal 
 and remarkable manner; and that he is nearly as much 
 adored as the commander-in-chief. There is the best feel- 
 ing between the American and French troops. My uncle 
 has had a letter from Richard Reid, a beautiful letter, on 
 our loss. Mr. Reid is very hopeful about aftairs. 
 
474 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 September 12, 1781. 
 Ti^OR a long while there have not been very active mili- 
 tary operations in this j)art of the country. The 
 English and American armies, like two strong and well 
 matched foes, each respecting the other's strength, and un- 
 willing to move without some manifest advantage opening 
 on their own side, have held each other at bay, posted 
 respectively at New York and West Point. 
 
 Fleet couriers carried the news on the 25th of August, 
 that the French and American armies had crossed the 
 Hudson, and by several lines of march were moving 
 toward the Jerseys — making, the Americans for Spring- 
 field, the French for Whippany. AVonder ran high. 
 Did this mean the siege of New York, or Virginia and 
 Cornwallis? Uncle said it was a grand piece of general- 
 ship, which placed our troops on the banks of the Dela- 
 ware before Sir Henry Clinton knew where they were 
 going. It was too late then for him to oppose them, and 
 they arrived here in fine condition. Arnold, the traitor, 
 attempted a diversion by attacking New London, but it 
 did not turn the commander-in-chief from his course. 
 Here we were all in a state of enthusiasm to greet the 
 most honored of the people. Washington arrived here 
 about noon on the thirtieth. We all wondered, and cpies- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. ^Tib 
 
 tionecl, and imagined, what the new move meant; but Ave 
 were sure that it meant something wise and good, if it 
 came from him, and the streets were filled with a shout- 
 ing and applauding multitude, and flags, and flowers, and 
 streamers hung from nearly all the windows. The gen- 
 eral stayed with Mr. Robert Morris. My uncle learned 
 from Mr. Morris that the great want, as usual, had been 
 hard money for the expedition. But they borrowed 
 twenty thousand pounds from the Count de Rochambeau, 
 which Mr. Morris pledged himself to repay by the 1st of 
 October. But almost at once this trouble was relieved, 
 for Colonel Laurens arrived at Boston, returning from 
 his mission to the French government, and brought two 
 and a half millions of livres, cash, and a promise of 
 three and a half millions of livres more soon. 
 
 The general and his suite had preceded the army. The 
 American troops arrived on September 2d. My uncle 
 took Hester and me to see them enter the city. Their line 
 of march extended over two miles. We were on a bal- 
 cony at the upper part of the town, and every window 
 and door was filled with spectators. Such a sight as our 
 army was. The generals and staff officers looked well. 
 They buy their own uniforms, keep their servants, and 
 presented a fine appearance. The soldiers, however, were 
 shabby enough ; their clothes and equipments were motley 
 and patched, poor fellows! and as they kept step to 
 drum and fife, and marched along in a terrible cloud of 
 dust — for we had had no rain for a fortnight — I know 
 they felt vexed at their appearance. We all wished that 
 we could put every man of them in clothes suitable to 
 
476 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 his patriotism and courage, then they would have made a 
 grand display indeed. 
 
 Behind each brigade came field-pieces and ammunition- 
 wagons. After all the soldiers had passed, came the camp 
 furniture, wagons of tents, provisions, baggage, hospital 
 stores, camp followers, carts driven by traders who kept 
 stores near the camp, and occasionally, perched high on a 
 load of baggage, or riding double (or even treble) on a 
 broken-down horse, were soldiers' wives and children. 
 The clouds of dust made every face dirty, and the coats 
 of the officers appeared as if they had been in a fine 
 snoAV. Captain Reid looked mortified enough as he bowed 
 to us. He is very particular about his dress, and seemed 
 conscious of grimy hands and countenance when he 
 touched his hat. We also saw Isaiah Hooper. 
 
 Next day we went out again to see the French troops 
 come into the city. Charles was on duty and could not 
 accompany us, but Mr. Reid came as our escort. The 
 French were bound to look well. They halted a mile 
 from the city, and made their toilets as carefully as a 
 girl going to her first ball. Every particle of dust was 
 banished, every hair was brushed smooth, and every 
 sword, musket, and bayonet burnished to the best. They 
 wore white uniforms, faced with green, and they had 
 white cockades. They were accompanied by a splendid 
 band of music, and thus they came gayly into the city, 
 where streets, windows, and even roofs were crowded 
 with a shouting multitude. 
 
 " How much better they look than our poor fellows," said 
 Captain Reid. " Ours are a set of scarecrows beside them." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 477 
 
 *' Only to those who can not appreciate heroic self-sac- 
 rifice — the bravery that for six years can contend for a 
 principle, suffering daily worse than death for their 
 canse/' I cried. " I had rather see Isaiah Hooper, worn, 
 and faded, and patched as he appears, than all these gay 
 troops. It is easy enough for them, well fed, and clad, 
 and paid, to be soldiers; but men like Isaiah, have only 
 gotten wounds, and imprisonment, and hunger, and sick- 
 ness, and rags for their wages; and yet they fight on. 
 They are true heroes." 
 
 "Well," replied Captain Reid, looking well pleased, " we 
 must not undervalue our allies. I fear we should have been 
 beaten without French help ; and remember, that the lib- 
 erty they talk about is a plant of our soil and not of theirs." 
 
 We had had several visits from Charles while he was 
 in the city ; indeed, he remained with us three days out 
 of the week that he was in Philadelphia. Our joy at his 
 presence was almost balanced by fear and sorrow, as 
 he was going to a post of great danger ; and yet, as my 
 uncle said, there must be active service to end this war, 
 and we must make our sacrifice with the rest. Poor 
 Annie was more distressed than any of us. The loss of 
 her brother has renewed her apprehensions for Charles. 
 I shall never forget the scene, when on the evening of 
 the 4th of September, Charles came in, saying that they 
 were to leave early next morning. Annie forgot every 
 thing but her terror at having him go. She flew to him, 
 and clasping her arms about him, shrieked : 
 
 " O, Charles, Charles ! must you — why must you go 
 and be killed like mv Henrv ? " 
 
478 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Neither uncle nor Judith were present to console her. 
 Charles was completely unmanned, and we girls all burst 
 into sobs and tears. I had been all day fighting against 
 giving way to tears and lamentations because they were 
 going away, and crying now came as a positive relief to 
 me. Annie continued her plaint : 
 
 " You will be killed ! you will be killed ! " 
 
 Bessie was first to recover herself. She went to Annie 
 and Charles, and, taking Annie's hand, said : 
 
 " Xo, no, my dear girl ; he will come home in safety. 
 God will not take from you both brother and lover. See, 
 He has left good friends even to mey 
 
 There was such resignation, such self-condemnation, 
 such sad SAveetness in Bessie's tone that it went straight 
 to my heart. I caught her in my arms. 
 
 " Why, you dear, sweet girl, why should you not have 
 friends left ? " I cried. 
 
 Just then I heard Richard Reid's step in the hall, and 
 I fled to the window for the shelter of the curtains. 
 Charles led Annie away to a sofa in a distant corner, and 
 Susannah, Hester, and Bessie were left standing in the 
 middle of the room to greet our guests. Uncle came in 
 with Mr. Reid. 
 
 " Ah," he said, trying to be cheery, " marching orders 
 have had a sad effect here. Crying? all but Hester!" 
 
 " Dear me," said Hester, " I am so happy as not to have 
 any lover to cry for, and so I can dispense with tears." 
 
 " But I am also not parting with a lover," said Susan- 
 nah, leaning against my uncle's shoulder as he put his 
 arm about her. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 479 
 
 " I am sure there is a lover in the business some- 
 where," said Hester, striving to create a diversion. 
 
 " You are doing yourself injustice," said Bessie, " for 
 you were crying about Major Temple as heartily as the 
 rest of us." 
 
 Uncle led Susannah over to Annie and Charles. He 
 laid his hand tenderly on Annie's fair head. She is a 
 childish little creature, and uncle always treats her with 
 an infinite tenderness. 
 
 " Cheer up," he said, " the Scripture hath it : ' He that 
 goeth forth and weepeth shall surely come again with 
 rejoicing.' We shall remember this doleful day when 
 Charles has come home in safety to remain." 
 
 Meanwhile Richard Reid made his way to where I had 
 taken refuge in the curtains. Said he : 
 
 " I would I might hope that even one of these tears 
 was for me." 
 
 I replied : " I know my debt to all j^atriots. I weep 
 for the whole army. Do you think that I am not grieved 
 that Isaiah Hooper goes into danger again ? He has a 
 wife waiting for him at home." 
 
 " And yet," he said, " one would like to be missed 
 individually, not merely as one of an army. A personal 
 interest would be more a matter of consolation to me in 
 lonely days or nights, or on the field of battle." 
 
 " Very likely," I said. " We all feel in that way. I 
 
 am sure all your friends will remember you especially. 
 
 I know Hannah Dana says there is no one whom she 
 
 misses so much when you are in another part of the 
 
 armv." 
 
 ol 
 
480 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 A little amusement sparkled in his eyes for a moment 
 at something, then a sad, earnest look followed. He 
 said: 
 
 " I am glad that you spoke of Hannah. I want you to 
 be a friend to her. Can you not get her to come here 
 and rest? I fear she is wearing out with her great toils." 
 
 I promised him that I would try to bring her hither. 
 I daresay he was glad that I reminded him of her. If 
 he truly cares for Hannah, why did he need to be re- 
 minded ? It is a false sort of heart that needs reminding 
 of one it loves. 
 
 Well, next day they were gone. It seemed as if we 
 ourselves had gone with them and only our mummies left 
 behind. Annie and Bessie were back at Mrs. Seaforth's. 
 Susannah and I brought our Avork to the parlor, and 
 were waiting for Judith, who had gone to speak to 
 Nervey, when in came Hester with a book, singing a 
 little air, and striving with much bravado to keep her 
 courage up. 
 
 She cried : " Come, girls ! Why sit there so dolefully ? 
 Do n't meet trouble half way. In the novels the hero 
 always comes home, crowned with glory. So your heroes 
 will come home — Colonel Nelson in the paM's of the 
 British lion, and Captain Reid in the claws of the Ameri- 
 can eagle." 
 
 It made me completely angry at her, speaking as if 
 Mr. Reid was as much to me as the colonel to Susannah. 
 Does she think — well, what does she think? 
 
 I cried sharply : " One would think, to hear you, that 
 soldiers Avere out on a pleasure party, and sure to come 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 481 
 
 home safe. Do you think I forget that Thomas Otis 
 went, and has never come home at all?" 
 
 Hester stared at me, her black eyes opening wide and 
 her face growing very white. 
 
 " Why ! " she exclaimed, " others who went with him 
 have not come home, and yet they will — they will ! " and 
 thereupon Hester burst into tears and ran out of the 
 room. — for all the world as I used to do when I got very 
 angry at Bessie — and left Susannah and me looking our 
 wonder at each other. 
 
 "What has come to Hester now?" said I — "what does 
 she care?" 
 
 " What, indeed !" said Susannah. " She is such an odd 
 girl." 
 
 We heard Judith meeting her in the hall, and the two 
 went off together. By and by Judith came back, but no 
 Hester. We had our usual morning work and reading. 
 As Susannah and I were leaving the room to dress for 
 dinner, Judith took my hand : 
 
 " My dear Abbey, please do not tease Hester about 
 Thomas Otis." 
 
 " Certainly not," I said. " I never thought of such a 
 thing. What was Thomas Otis ever to our Hester?" 
 
 Of all the puzzles in the world ! — I felt like going 
 straight to Hester to ask her what she cared about 
 Thomas. I will be honest in this diary. I felt that I 
 would like her to say that she felt very badly about him, 
 for then it seemed as if I should somehow feel relieved 
 of the burden of being the only one to care. 
 
 But I must go to more important matters. Charles 
 
482 " PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 told us that the general was leaving Philadelphia in nuich 
 anxiety of mind, as he feared some misfortune had over- 
 taken the Count de Grasse and the fleet of the French, 
 upon whose co-operation with the land forces the success 
 of this expedition will depend. 
 
 General Washington set off on the morning of the oth, 
 to the Head of Elk, going by land along the Chester 
 road, the Count de Rochambeau going to that place by 
 water. Some three miles below Chester, an express met 
 the general, and told him that Count de Grasse was 
 already in the mouth of the Chesapeake, with twenty- 
 eight ships-of-the-line. This so overjoyed the com- 
 mander-in-chief that he turned about, put spurs to his 
 horse, and dashed back to Chester to felicitate the Count 
 de Rochambeau. The count and the general had a very 
 joyous impromptu dinner together, and in the evening the 
 general proceeded on his way. Meanwhile, the express 
 with his good news got a fresh horse and galloped on to 
 Philadelphia, riding after the fashion of Paul Revere. 
 
 Our Congress, after a review of French troops, had 
 assembled at a dinner given to the officers by the French 
 minister. Chevalier de Luzerne. Hardly were they seated 
 at table, when the express came with the dispatches, 
 stating that De Grasse had entered the river in safety, 
 and that St. Simon, with three thousand troops, had 
 landed and opened communications with the Marquis La 
 Fayette. All the gentlemen at the banquet leaped up, 
 shook hands, shouted, and went into a frenzy of rejoic- 
 ing. The good news got into the streets. Hundreds of 
 citizens gathered, shouting about the French minister's 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 483 
 
 door ; the bells were rang ; every boy in the city flew for 
 materials for a bonfire, or for a few fireworks ; guns were 
 fired. Every man felt it his duty to huzza for Louis the 
 Sixteenth ; and, indeed, the city was mad with joy. 
 
 September 30, 1781. 
 Dispatches have come up from the army, and we were 
 so happy as to have a letter from Charles. I also had 
 one from Mr. Eeid. I have never had very many letters 
 in my life. This one was all about army matters. 
 Charles told us that 
 Washington reached 
 Head of Elk on the 
 6th, and f o u n d 
 troops and stores al- 
 ready preparing to 
 embark. The gen- 
 eral left General 
 Heath to lead the 
 American land 
 forces, and General 
 the Baron de Vio- 
 menil to lead the 
 French ; and him- 
 self, on the 8th, 
 pushed on to Baltimore. Charles says a deputation of 
 citizens, with a congratulatory address, met the general, 
 and in the evening the city was illuminated. The ladies 
 brought flowers, and all the ofiicers received invitations 
 to dinners at various dwellings. On the 9th, the general 
 and Colonel Humphreys were up at day-break, and leav- 
 
 GENERAL HEATH. 
 
484 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 ing the rest of the suite to come when they could, those 
 two spurred on toward Mount Vernon — that dear home 
 which our general has not seen for six years. 
 
 Charles, and the rest of the general's suite, made their 
 way over the country more leisurely, and reached Mount 
 
 MT. VERNON— THE HOME OF WASHINGTON. 
 
 Vernon at dinner-time on the 10th. In the evening Count 
 de Rochambeau arrived, and on the 11th, General 
 Chastellux and his aids. Charles said the good mansion 
 was fairly overflowing with Virginian hospitality ; and 
 Lady Washington was in her element, making her guests 
 happy. She forgot no one. She even recalled me, and 
 asked Charles how that little maiden Abbey was, and that 
 she trusted Philadelphia follies Avould not spoil me. She 
 does not know what a careful guardian Uncle John is. 
 
 My letter from Mr. Reid told us how nearly all the 
 plans of this campaign had been frustrated once or 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 485 
 
 twice. Unless the fleet in the river co-operates with the 
 
 land forces in besieging Lord Cornwallis, no good can be 
 
 effected, for his lordship could get off to New York by 
 
 sea, or he could get men and provisions by sea, and 
 
 so hold out indefinitely, or until British ships enter 
 
 the river and bombard the French and American camp. 
 
 Admiral Graves, in command of the British fleet 
 
 in our waters, had nearly drawn Count de Grasse from 
 
 Yorktown, but in a conflict on the 7th of September, the 
 
 French had the advantage, and Admiral Graves retired to 
 
 New York. On the 22d news of the arrival of Admiral 
 
 Digby in New York, with six ships-of-the-line, almost 
 
 caused De Grasse to leave the Chesapeake, lest now he 
 
 should be caught in the river, and his fleet destroyed. 
 
 Washington and La Fayette, however, persuaded him to 
 
 remain, and the express to the city was to tell of good 
 
 fortune thus far. And so are we left, in mingled hope and 
 
 anxiety. Any moment we may learn of a glorious victory 
 
 or a terrible defeat. 
 
 November 10, 1781. 
 
 Our suspense has ended. On the night of the 23d 
 of October, I was aroused by hearing a horse dashing 
 past our house in a very unusual manner. I shook 
 Hester, saying, " I believe there is news from the army." 
 So we two sat up in bed listening, in a terrible state of 
 anxiety. It was almost one o'clock. As we listened to 
 the dying sound of the hoofs, the echo of some other 
 sound came to us. I rose and put up a window, and 
 then Hester and I put on our shawls and leaned out of 
 the window in our impatience. A loud shout came up 
 
486 PATRIOT AND TOBY : 
 
 from the direction of Second Street; then a watchman 
 dashed into Chestnut Street, roaring "One o'clock and 
 CornwaUis is taken!" and suddenly windows flew up, 
 and heads were thrust forth, and all over the city we 
 heard the watchmen shouting "One o'clock and Corn- 
 waUis is taken ! " I flew down to ray uncle, who was 
 sleeping in the rear of the house, and bursting into his 
 room without ceremony of knocking, I screamed — 
 
 " Uncle John, what are you asleep for ! CornwaUis is 
 surrendered ! " 
 
 My uncle sat up in bed and cried, 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Just then the State House bell began a fearful clangor, 
 and I repeated, 
 
 " CornwaUis is taken ! " 
 
 My uncle forthwith gave a loud huzza, and for want of 
 a better way to show his feelings, tore ofl" his night-cap 
 and threw it at the ceiling. I lit his candle for him at 
 the lamp burning in the hall, and then, with slippers 
 clattering loosely on my feet, and my great shawl trailing 
 behind me, I went up toward the girls' room, for Hester 
 had run thither, and I heard them all talking at once. 
 
 As I came near their room I heard a great clatter on 
 the attic stairs, and down came Nervey, Pompey, and 
 Peter, pell-mell, their arms laden with their private 
 property — clothes, pillows, boots, looking-glass, old hats — 
 the queerest trio that ever candle shone on they 
 looked, as I saw them by the light I carried. 
 
 " Run, run, Missey Abbey," cried Nervey ; " run for your 
 life ; dis house a-fire ; hark ye de noise ; come 'long, honey ! " 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 487 
 
 " De British, de British, dey hab come ! " yelled Peter. 
 
 " Come 'long, missey," howled Pompey," " come some- 
 where, but dis chile don know where ; come 'long." 
 
 I laughed until I cried. The overburdened three ran 
 into each other, dropped their precious goods. Nervey's 
 water-pitcher took flight down the front stairs, pursued 
 by Pompey's top boots — a relic of Charles ; and Peter, 
 tripping at the stair-top on his mother's trailing bed- 
 quilt, fell head first, but with such a bundle of garments 
 and pillows in his arms, that he came unharmed upon 
 them in the lower hall, obstructing the progress of Un- 
 cle John, who, having arrayed himself with some degree 
 of splendor, in his best dressing gown, his satin Sunday 
 breeches, his night-shirt, stocking feet, and a wig, was 
 coming up to congratulate us preparatory to going out 
 to congratulate his neighbors ! 
 
 It w^as altogether a night of tumult — of great rejoicing 
 and secret fears. What might we not have paid for vic- 
 tory ? Still no one of us whispered this thought. Uncle 
 John always bids us rejoice when God sends us a victory, 
 and not meet despair and loss half way. 
 
 The streets of our usually quiet city were crowded with 
 people from the first cry of the victory. Men and women 
 alike went out to discuss the tidings, and the house of 
 Thomas McKean, president of Congress, was besieged 
 with people. Lieutenant-colonel Tilghman, who brought 
 the news, M'as nearly dead with fatigue, but he was obliged 
 to thrust his head out of his bed-room window again and 
 again, to say that the victory was complete, Washington 
 safe, our loss small, and other things of the kind. Lights 
 
488 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 moved past the windows until the city seemed illuminated, 
 and as morning dawned, the booming of cannon was an 
 added note in the manner of our jubilations. 
 
 Uncle says that Colonel Tilghman experienced some of 
 the changes of human events and popular feeling on that 
 niglit of the 23d, he so tore through the streets, and be- 
 labored President McKean's door to such an extent, that 
 one of our vigilant watchmen pounced upon him as a dis- 
 turber of the peace, and proclaimed him arrested. He 
 was about to drag him off, and the colonel, still shouting 
 for Mr. McKean, was nearly drawing sword in his own 
 defense, when the president got awake enough to put his 
 head out of the window and ask what was going on. 
 The colonel at once gave his name and his news, when 
 the lately hostile watchman clasped him in his arms and 
 almost hugged the breath out of him, and vowed to love 
 him like a brother to his dying day. 
 
 Congress came together early in the morning. The 
 street before the State House was filled with people. The 
 dispatches were read, and Congress resolved to go in pro- 
 cession at two o'clock to the Dutch Lutheran Church, to 
 return thanks to God for his favor. Accordingly they 
 went, and it was a good and solemn sight ; and hundreds 
 of citizens followed them on foot, and not only was the 
 church full, but all the street about it. My uncle saw 
 Colonel Tilghman and learned that Charles was safe. 
 
 November 20, 1781. 
 
 A second letter which I received from Mr. Reid, when 
 Charles's last letter came, gave an account of the siege and 
 surrender of Yorktown. He savs nothing could exceed 
 
 i 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 489 
 
 ^"^V.*-* >-CrtTlierv" 
 
 a.Md Pen,\_ ^.^ Gi^^e^3on■■ 
 
 the unanimity of feelings between the American and 
 French officers, unless it was their bravery. Even the 
 common soldiers seemed to vie with the commander-in- 
 chief in courage. The scene at the city must have been 
 grand and ter- 
 rible. Shells 
 crossed each 
 other in their 
 way through the 
 air, leaving in 
 the night long 
 fiery tracks like 
 comets ; some- 
 times they fell 
 into the river, 
 and as they 
 burst flung up 
 great fountains 
 of foam. There was, on the night of the 14th, an assault 
 on the redoubts, the Americans being in one party and 
 the French in another. The loss Avas heaviest for the 
 French, but the redoubts were carried. Captain Reid 
 says that the men in their zeal tore down the abcdis with 
 their hands, lifted and dragged each other over the para- 
 pets, flung themselves bodily on the enemy, and such en- 
 thusiasm for victory he never saw before. 
 
 Once Lord Cornwallls had arranged to escape in 
 boats, and might have done so had not a fierce storm risen. 
 Cornwallis beat for parley on the 17th. On the 19th 
 terms were sent to him, with word that, if accepted, he 
 
 Artifiu' 
 
 Opri.CIintou '^'Sijlri 
 
 JQers 
 
 SIEGE OF YORKTOWN. 
 
490 
 
 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 must march out by two that afternoon. Our officers 
 Avere in a desperate hurry, fearing that Admiral Graves 
 might arrive with ships and re-inforcements and turn 
 the scale. The land forces agreed to surrender to the 
 Americans in the person of General Lincoln, who thus 
 got balm for the mortification he had experienced when 
 he had been obliged to surrender his own army, on simi- 
 lar terms, at Charleston. The ships, transports, vessels, 
 and naval stores surrendered to the Count de Grasse, com- 
 mander of the French fleet. 
 
 I 
 
 SURRENDER OF LORD CORNWALLIS. 
 
 Mr. Keid wrote me that the combined army was drawn 
 up in two lines, each over a mile long, facing each other 
 on the two sides of the road. The French looked splen- 
 didly, as they did when here; all in gorgeous uniforms, 
 well equipped, and with their band of music. Our poor 
 fellows had only their stalwart valor and endurance to 
 commend them. Only a part were in uniform, and their 
 faded and worn clothes bore witness to a long, hard serv- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 491 
 
 ice ; yet their resolute and soklier-like air made them a 
 fair match for the finer French. Mr. Reid said that the 
 crowd of people from the country round was nearly as 
 great as the military. 
 
 The British garrison came forth at two. Lord Corn- 
 wall is said he was ill, and General O'Hara conducted the 
 surrender. It is fine to be chief officer, and be able to 
 make your subordinates do your disagreeable work for 
 you ! The British had on new suits and looked healthy 
 and soldierly/but chagrined, of course — so are we cha- 
 grined when we get defeated. On the field where they 
 grounded their arms, some of them flung down their mus- 
 kets so hard as to break them. I do n't know as I won- 
 der at that; they were brave men, and felt their unpleas- 
 ant situation. On the very day of the surrender. Sir 
 Henry Clinton concluded that it was time to go to Corn- 
 wallis's relief, and sailed from Xew York witli troops 
 and ships enough to raise the siege. He reached the 
 Capes on the 24th, and heard of the capitulation. He 
 hovered around tlio mouth of the Chesapeake until the 
 29th, and then sailed back to New York. I am very 
 glad that our officers and the French treated the British 
 wdth the greatest kindness and courtesy. 
 
 After the surrender at Yorktown, General Washington 
 wanted to go and reduce Charleston, but Count de 
 Grasse could not co-operate with him there, and so it 
 was useless for him to go alone. The French fleet had 
 engagements with the Spaniards, and went off. I would 
 they had stayed, then this war might have ended by 
 spring; but, of course, we can not expect our allies to care 
 
492 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 as much about it as we do. The Marquis La Fayette 
 came up here to Philadelphia and got leave to go to 
 France for a time, as there is no prospect of more fight- 
 ing at present. 
 
 The British prisoners are at Winchester and Fredericks- 
 town, and Lord Cornwallis and his chief officers are gone 
 on parole to New York. The French army are going 
 into quarters at Williamsburg, and our army in Jersey 
 and along the Hudson as before. Our general has had 
 great sorrow in the midst of his joy. His step-son, Lady 
 Washington's only surviving child, died on the fifth of 
 this month. The general reached Eltham, just as Mr. 
 Custis was dying. 
 
 December 16, 1781. 
 
 It seems as if there was not much but death to write 
 about, as one friend after another dies, I feel as if by 
 and by I would be all alone in the world with no one of 
 my old-time friends left to speak to or care for. On the 
 twenty-fifth of last month uncle had a letter from a sol- 
 dier, written from near Princeton, saying that Hannah 
 Dana was very ill with a fever. Uncle and ISIr. Seaforth 
 both concluded to go to her, as they felt that her care of 
 Henry could never be sufficiently recompensed; and they 
 took rae, thinking that the sight of one of the old Plymouth 
 faces would do her good. But tliere was no chance to do 
 poor Hannah good. She had died before we reached the 
 place where she lay. 
 
 Those cruel country people were so afraid of the fever 
 that they would not take her into their houses, and a tent 
 had been put up for her in a little bit of woodland. A 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEABS AGO. 493 
 
 bed was in the tent, and an old colored Avoman had been 
 found to nurse her. We all felt that the woman had been 
 kind and handy, and that Hannah had been made com- 
 fortable in her last hours. The tent was good and well 
 sheltered, and a big fire blazed in front of it. The bed 
 Avas good, the tent floor strewn with fresh straw, and three 
 of the soldiers had stayed to wait on their faithful friend. 
 
 Hannah had only been dead about half an hour when 
 we reached the place where she lay. One of the soldiers 
 sat crying before the fire, and another sat on a milking 
 stool at the foot of her pallet with a Bible on his knee. 
 He had been reading to her, and her death had been so 
 sudden and so quiet that they could hardly realize it, and 
 sat there as if waiting for her to wake to life again. One 
 of the soldiers had gone into Princeton to see about a 
 coffin, and the old colored woman was praying and talk- 
 ing to herself in a corner. 
 
 Hannah's hair, under her cap, had grown perfectly 
 white, and her hands were thin and wrinkled, but her 
 face looked younger than ever I had seen it. The sol- 
 dier said that she had felt from the first that she should 
 die, but had not wanted any one sent for. She said "it 
 Avas not AA^orth Avhile." He had AA'i'itten us AA'ithout her 
 knoAvledge. He asked her if she had any messages to 
 leave or any thing to giA^e. She said her AA^agon and 
 Avhat stores Avere in it AA'as for the hospital ; her money Avas 
 all gone. She. sent her love to her parents and brother, 
 and bade them be glad that she been able to help a good 
 cause. For the rest, she had only lier prayers to leave 
 for her country. 
 
494 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 My uncle looking at her as she lay quiet in that last 
 sleep, said: "Greater love hath no man than this, that a 
 man should lay down his life for his friends," and that 
 verse Mr. Seaforth ordered put on the stone which he is 
 to have set up by her grave. We buried her next day in 
 the graveyard at Princeton. We three, the three soldiers, 
 and the colored woman being the entire attendance at the 
 funeral. Surely a kinder, nobler, truer or more weary 
 heart never ceased to beat. My uncle wrote to Mr. 
 Reid, and I wrote to Deacon Dana. 
 
 When we reached home from Princeton we found the city 
 all bustle and rejoicing because General Washington had 
 reached here to remain some time. When we drew rein 
 at our own door, Charles ran out to help us dismount. 
 So we shall have him home with us for the winter. 
 
 Chaj'les tells us that the general is fearful that Con- 
 gress and the nation will feel that in the capture of Lord 
 Cornwallis all has been done that need be, and that they 
 will relax their efforts. He desires the most vigorous 
 l)reparations for the next summer's campaign. The Mar- 
 quis La Fayette was expected to press our cause at the 
 French Court, and Doctor Franklin, who still remains in 
 France in goocT health and great popularity, is desired to 
 request another loan. 
 
 On the tenth of this month the Congress passed resolu- 
 tions requiring men and money from the several States, 
 and the general himself wrote to the different governors, 
 begging them to be active. If all of them Avcro like the 
 Governor of Virginia, Governor Nelson, there would be 
 no trouble. Uncle Matthew wrote us, that before the 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 495 
 
 siege of Yorktown, the State treasury was empty and the 
 militia likely to disband for lack of pay, and the gov- 
 ernor pledged all his private property as security on a 
 loan to pay the soldiers. 
 
 At the siege of Yorktown he was in command of a bat- 
 tery, and bombarded a large stone house, the quarters of 
 Cornwallis and his staff. This house was the governor's 
 own, and he preferred its ruin to having it useful to the 
 enemy. Uncle Matthew says that the governor made 
 himself mortal enemies by impressing men and stores for 
 the siege. But posterity will justify him, and show him 
 as the man who was ready to sacrifice all that he had for 
 his country. Indeed we have many such men, and our 
 general is one. No wonder that the people gave him such 
 an enthusiastic reception when he came here the last of the 
 month. 
 
 Although Charles is near us, and our hearts are at rest 
 about his present safety, our life this winter is very quiet, 
 and somewhat sad. Judith strives to keep her sorrows to 
 herself, and takes her place among us as formerly. Susan- 
 nah is calm, but has too many fits of musing to be a very 
 lively companion ; and I must say for myself, that long ex- 
 citement and the stronger changes of our* life during this 
 war, have had the effect to make me decidedly cross a good 
 deal of the time. I often fall into a muse about the 
 pleasant life at Plymouth, and wish myself back in the 
 dear old place, among familiar friends there, near the 
 bright bay. Even the cold long winters have grown 
 dear in my recollection, and they served to make the 
 summer brighter by contrast. I like to fancy how the 
 
496 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 place looks now, and how if I were there I would make 
 the garden and plant the flowers that ray great-grand- 
 father loved so much, and how in the study I could 
 almost fancy I saw my grandfather back, he seemed so 
 inseparable from that place. 
 
 Well, such fancies are idle, I can never go back. 
 Bessie has a tenant on the place now, but the rent is 
 small, times are very hard, money is amazingly scarce, 
 except continental, which is worth nothing, and every 
 thing is dear. Uncle John says that if once we had 
 peace, and the army were successfully disbanded, Ave 
 should become a very prosperous people, on account of 
 our great resources; but after the peace the army will be 
 a cause of anxiety, for so many men, long unused to home- 
 life or regular occupation, and with no means of support, 
 will be dangerous to the safety of the community. So 
 there seems little likelihood of our soon getting out of 
 our troubles. 
 
 This morning we girls turned the parlor into a sort of 
 pawn-shop exhibition or rag fair, bringing down all our 
 old clothes. As it was a fearfully stormy day, and no one 
 was likely to come in, we thought it a fine chance to see 
 if we could oufof the old, find a way to make something 
 new, for goods are wondrous scarce; and as to price — a 
 bonnet costs two hundred dollars, and is but moderately 
 good then; We sent Peter to bring Bessie to us. Judith, 
 who is all in black, handed her former wardrobe over to 
 Susannah and Hester, and I had yet one or two of my 
 mother's dresses. Bessie brought with her the tucker I 
 had once made her of grandmother's lace, and said I must 
 
O^E HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 497 
 
 use it for one of my gowns. I begged her to keep it 
 herself, until she finally said, with tears in her eyes, that 
 " she fairly hated the sight of it," so I slipped it away. 
 
 Judith sat calmly directing and advising «s what to do. 
 Hester ripped spasmodically. Our colored maid smoothed 
 the pieces on a large press-board. Pompey had made us 
 a big fire, and Nervey brought us cakes and coffee, yet for 
 all these ameliorations of our lot, I was decidedly in the 
 dumps. I got Goldsmith's Deserted Village, and read it 
 aloud for awhile, then threw it by, and betook myself to 
 the consideration of an old blue cardinal, which so dis- 
 gusted me that I began a disquisition on the vanity of 
 human affairs, and the general disadvantages of living. 
 Concluding, with my usual sense of the ludicrous coming 
 to the rescue, I declared that I believed if none of us 
 had ever been born ice should none of us ever had regretted 
 it. Bessie, who can never see this kind of a joke, looked 
 curiously at me in my new mood ; and then, of all things, 
 undertook gravely to prove that if none of us had ever 
 been born we should all of us be very sorry indeed — 
 which threw Hester and me into such convulsions of 
 laughter, that even Judith and Susannah were obliged to 
 join us. 
 
 After that laugh we somehow felt better, time did not 
 seem quite so long, nor the winter day so gloomy, nor the 
 old gowns 60 ruinous. Bessie looked from one to the 
 other of us, as we paused in our fits of laughter, and 
 said: ""Well, I do not see what I have said that w^as 
 funny. I leave the witty talk for Hester, but I am glad 
 if I have made you feel any better; and if Abbey is only 
 
498 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 a mind to do half as well as she can do, your clothes 
 also will speedily look better." 
 
 Thus challenged, I stood our beautiful Susannah up in 
 the middle of the room as a lay figure, surrounded her 
 with her dry goods, and proceeded to fit her out with 
 winter costumes, in all of which she kindly looked charm- 
 ing. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 February 6, 1782. 
 
 r ADY WASHIXGTOX has come to stay with the 
 ^ general for a time. Owing to her recent loss she is 
 living very quietly, but the ladies of the city are all call- 
 ing upon her, and this morning, Hester, Susannah, and I 
 M'ent. We went in state, walking to be sure, but we had 
 on our best gowns and hats, and Peter in his sole suit of 
 livery, stalked after us, as attendant, and we sent up our 
 cards to Lady Washington. She was pleased to see us, 
 greeted us with kindness, and remembered me. I ex- 
 cused Judith's absence to her, telling of that great loss 
 which had saddened all our hearts. Tears came into 
 Lady Washington's eyes. She sent her love to Judith, 
 and bade me tell her that sorrows had taught her deeply 
 to sympathize with those who mourned the dead. 
 
 Lady Washington was knitting, and was very plainly 
 dressed. She had a basket of work on the table, and asked 
 us were Ave doing any thing for the army this winter. 
 And so I told her about our society work. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 499 
 
 She seemed much struck with Susannah's appearance, 
 and asked : 
 
 " Had we not had temptations to be very gay while the 
 British army — and then General Arnold — were here?" 
 
 Hester replied : " The temptations make no difference. 
 Law, in the person of Mr. Temple, is stronger than any 
 amount of society temptations, and he thinks it is not 
 right to enter into any gayeties while the country is in 
 such distress." 
 
 "But Susannah, who is truth itself, feared this asser- 
 tion might make us seem more self-sacrificing than we 
 were, and remarked, sweetly: 
 
 " Not that we were quite out of society — we did not go 
 abroad, but we were obliged to receive quietly at home. 
 We could not keep visitors away, they would come, some- 
 how." 
 
 " So I should suppose," said Lady Washington, dryly ; 
 and Susannah, seeing whither in her simplicity she had 
 drifted, blushed up to her eyes. We had a very pleasant 
 visit. Susannah said it would be a thing to remember 
 all our lives, that we had made a call on Lady Washing- 
 ton. 
 
 At dinner, we girls did little but talk about our visit. 
 When we left the table, my uncle said he wanted to see 
 me in the library. When I went to him he began to 
 talk about Plymouth. He said that he had a great affec- 
 tion for the home of his brother, my grandfather, and 
 that doubtless I had also. He should be sorry to see it 
 go to strangers. As it was all the fortune Bessie had, it 
 would be better for her to sell it, as a farm would be to 
 
500 P^ TRIO T AND TOR Y: 
 
 her the most troublesome and least productive form of 
 property. He had thought of offering her a fair price 
 for the place himself, and he would do so, unless I wanted 
 to be the purchaser. If I liked to buy it I could do it, 
 and he would see that it was well taken care of for me. 
 I was so surprised, I cried : 
 
 " Oh, Uncle John ! can I really and truly buy the dear 
 old home?" 
 
 "Certainly, if you wish to," he said. ^ 
 
 "And will there be any of my money left to repair it, 
 and make a nice garden — and oh ! to build an arbor ? I 
 always wanted an arbor near the big api^le-tree." 
 
 Uncle John laughed heartily, but said very likely we 
 could have an arbor. Then I bethought myself. 
 
 " But, Uncle John, I always meant to give all my 
 money away to the army. I have done nothing for that. 
 Think how much Hannah Dana did." 
 
 " Well," said Uncle John, " I have thought it all over, 
 and as I daresay you are ready to be guided by me in 
 your business, I really do not think you had better put 
 your little property into the war. The war is most over. 
 We shall at its close need good homes and family prop- 
 erty more than we now need a few pounds more or less in 
 the treasury. You had better buy the farm. I will settle it 
 with Bessie ; it would be a kindness to your cousin for 
 you to take it off her hands, and by and by you and I 
 will go up there and decide on repairs, and put up that 
 arbor that you want. 
 
 Dear me, to-night I can hardly sleep for thinking how 
 lovely it will be to own the old home ; to visit it ; to see 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 501 
 
 the study and grandfather's easy chair. I shall almost hear 
 great-grandfather giving the cry of the covenanters under 
 the apple-tree, and grandmother, stately and trim, direct- 
 ing the ways of the household ! 
 
 August 12, 1782. 
 AVhen I have nothing to write, I am anxious enough 
 
 g g Q i 
 
 n % fiiE 
 
 WASHINGTON'S IIEAD-yUAKTERS AT NEWBURG. 
 
 to fill up this diary. When a great deal is going on, I 
 
 am so busy and interested that I have no time to write. 
 
 After a four months' residence in Philadelphia, General 
 
 Washington in March joined the army at Newburg. Of 
 
502 
 
 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 course that took Charles from us, but we parted with the 
 less anxiety, as there was not much prospect of heavy 
 fighting. Early in May, Sir Henry Clinton was relieved 
 at New York, and Sir Guy Carleton took his place. 
 Charles wrote us that Sir Carleton wrote to the general 
 
 that the disposition 
 of England was now 
 for peace, and that 
 he heartily concurred 
 in such feeling, and 
 desired no more 
 fighting. Charles 
 said the general re- 
 marked that no man 
 desired peace more 
 heartily than him- 
 self, but that he had 
 observed that the 
 surest Avay to obtain 
 or retain peace was 
 to be thoroughly prepared for war. 
 
 Charles says that there is now great discontent in the 
 army. The States have not furnished their proportions 
 of money, and the destitution in camp is great. Officers, 
 like Charles, who have funds of their own, can do pretty 
 well, but those who depend on jiay that is never forth- 
 coming, have want, and debt, and anger as their portion. 
 The army begins to fear being disbanded without the 
 payment of their claims, and so cast penniless on a com- 
 munity, paralyzed by poverty and long unused to the arts 
 
 SIR GUY CARLETON. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 503 
 
 and occupations of peace. This state of aifairs in the 
 army cast its gloom over us. When Charles wrote us 
 that the sole fare officers had to set before their guests 
 was tough beef and whisky hot from the still — which 
 reduced Charles's fare to the beef only, for he does not 
 take whisky — we felt almost condemned for having 
 any thing comfortable on our own tables, and we repined 
 over our blessings in that our army did not share them. 
 
 But just here arose such home changes that our 
 thoughts were quite distracted from the army. On a 
 Thursday evening in May, all the family except myself 
 had gone to church for the lecture. Since the war uncle 
 always leaves one of the family at home, because the 
 servants are so excitable that they would not know what 
 to do or say if a messenger came in haste, or something 
 should happen. It was a warm evening, and I sat by the 
 open window looking into the garden — uncle says it is 
 not proper for us to be sitting looking out of the street 
 windows — when I heard a step at the parlor door, and, 
 looking hastily about, there was Colonel Nelson ! Upon 
 my word, taking possession of the house as coolly as he 
 did the first time! My first impulse was to welcome him 
 warmly, for I always liked him ; then it flashed into my 
 mind that since he was alive and well, he had been neg- 
 lecting our Susannah, and I advanced to meet him quite 
 coldly. 
 
 The colonel, however, did not stop to notice my cold- 
 ness ; he grasped my hand, and without ceremony de- 
 manded, 
 
 " Miss Abbey, where is Susannah ? " 
 
504 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 " She is at church," said I, curtly. 
 
 " Do n't be angry with mc for coming in as I did/' he 
 said. " I knocked twice, indeed I did ; and I coukl not 
 wait another minute. It is so long since I was here." 
 
 I stepped into the hall, and bid Peter bring candles, as 
 it was growing dark. When I returned, the colonel said, 
 
 " Miss Temple, you were always a kind friend to me ; 
 tell me, how will Susannah receive me ? " 
 
 " Well enough, as she does every one, if she has not 
 forgotten you," I said, for I was ready to take up arms 
 for Susannah. 
 
 "Forgotten me! how could she?" he cried, aghast. 
 
 " You have given her ample opportunity," I retorted. 
 
 " Miss Temple," he exclaimed, springing up, " what do 
 you mean?" 
 
 " Exactly what I say," I replied. " Susannah has not 
 heard from you since you left New York ; and if that is 
 not ample time for forgetting, how long, in your opinion, 
 might be required?" 
 
 "Well," he exclaimed, "if I have not been heard from 
 since then, and you think the silence voluntary on my 
 part, no wonder that you speak to me as you do. What 
 a villain I must seem to you if I look guilty of neglect- 
 ing Susannah," and he paced up and down in great con- 
 fusion. Then he stopped before me: "And Susannah has 
 felt deeply offended, and has forgotten me, do you think?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " She could not both forget and be offended at the 
 same time," said I, smiling, for I began to think him 
 blameless. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 505 
 
 " I 'd rather have her angry than forgetful," he said. 
 
 " She will be neither, if you prove that you are not so 
 ill deserving as I have suggested," I replied, with a laugh. 
 
 " Now you seem like yourself," he cried, taking a chair 
 near me. " Miss Temple, I have been in Charleston, a 
 place that I hated like a jail. I dare say it is a good 
 place and in a good country, but for a British officer to 
 be there, shut up to doing thieves' and hangman's duty, 
 month after month, was enough to make one quit the 
 service. I wrote to Susannah five or six times, but get- 
 ting no reply, I concluded that her father did not think 
 it consistent for her to be corresponding with the enemy, 
 and resolved to have patience. As for my letters, I sup- 
 pose that light-riding Marion, or some other of those 
 quick Carolina gentlemen, had the pleasure of reading 
 them, for they seized almost every thing that we sent out. 
 I wrote once to poor Seaforth, asking him to say a good 
 word for me, but that letter came back from New York 
 by one of our ships, the" terrible news that Seaforth was 
 dead, written on the outside." 
 
 "And how did you get up here now? " I asked. 
 
 "I was sent up to New York with dispatches, as my 
 last bit of service. The time has come when I can sell 
 out and leave the army, in a manly way, for we hear that 
 fighting is nearly ended, and that peace will soon be ar- 
 ranged for. My uncle and mother are so anxious for me 
 to come home and settle, that now I will go. By the 
 way, my sister is married, Miss Temple, and they want 
 me to marry too." 
 
 "I dare say if you go home and assert your intentions 
 
506 P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 in that line, that you may easily find a wife among your 
 fair neighbors," I replied. 
 
 " How can you be so cruel ?" exclaimed he, in real dis- 
 tress. " You know that if Susannah will not accept me, 
 I shall be completely miserable. She is the only woman 
 in the world that I ever have or can care for." 
 
 "Well, I am sure I can not answer for Susannah," I 
 returned. 
 
 " But you can tell me if — well, if thinking me forgetful, 
 or knowing me to be unworthy of such a prize as she is — 
 she has now another suitor ! " he said, anxiously. 
 
 " Dear, dear ; I can not answer for Susannah at all," I 
 cried ; " all I can say is this, that she must not walk in 
 suddenly and find you here. See, I shall take a light to 
 the library, and when the family come home, I will send 
 my uncle in there." 
 
 So I escorted the colonel to the library, and stopped 
 there talking to him until I heard the family on the 
 porch. Then I went to the hall, and saying, " Uncle, 
 there is some one in the library wanting you," I asked 
 Susannah, " did they have a good lecture." 
 
 " Grand," said Susannah, " I pitied you that it was 
 your turn at home. President Witherspoon, of Princeton, 
 was down, and spoke." 
 
 And so President Witherspoon, and his ways and lect- 
 ure kept us busy for awhile, and I, knowing not exactly 
 how to tell Susannah who was there, said nothing ; and 
 by and by my uncle came in, looking vastly well 
 pleased. 
 
 "Why, the visitor is as much yours as mine, Susannah," 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 507 
 
 said he. "Who is there whom you AvoukI like well to 
 see?" 
 
 "Charles?" said Susannah, yet starting and flushing. 
 
 "Eh? Charles would be for us all," said Uncle John, 
 "but here is a guest who cares nothing for the rest of 
 us rebels, if you are at home and inclined to welcome 
 him." So he put her hand in his arm and led her away, 
 while I told the others of Colonel Nelson's arrival, and 
 of what he had said. 
 
 Hester was inclined to think the colonel's story needed 
 a sifting. Hester is the hardest on Tories or British of 
 any of us ; but Judith asserted she had always believed in 
 Colonel Nelson. 
 
 Hester said : " Better be careful. Look at poor Bessie." 
 
 " The colonel is a very different man from Major 
 Banks," replied Judith, " and there is no fear that my 
 father will not thoroughly satisfy himself about the 
 person whom he gives Susannah to. He will write to 
 his old business friends in England, and find out about 
 everything." 
 
 The colonel had leave of absence to return to England, 
 and he intended to leave the army as soon as he reached 
 home. Of course, he insisted that peace was now as- 
 sured ; that he ought to be alloAved to marry Susannah 
 and take her home with him at once ; — and, of course, 
 my uncle did not look at the aflPair in that light at all. 
 As for Susannah, she gave no voice in the matter, but 
 remained serenely contented, happy in having her anxieties 
 and doubts removed, and intent on making the colonel's 
 stay as pleasant as possible. 
 
508 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Uncle's decision was, that the cohinel must go home 
 alone, get out of the army, and consult the wishes of his 
 friends in regard to his marriage. He might correspond 
 with Susannah meanwhile, and Mr. Seaforth, by means 
 of his friends and relatives in England, would satisfy my 
 uncle concerning the colonel's family and aftairs. Then, 
 if all went well, as soon as peace was declared, he could 
 return and marry Susannah. 
 
 The colonel, seeing that my uncle's mind was made up, 
 and, indeed, that his decision was most reasonable, was 
 forced to be contented. He remained with us until the 
 18th of June, and really his visit was very delightful to 
 us all. Indeed, if for no other reason, we must have 
 been pleased to see our tranquil Susannah so happy. 
 Instead of that busy endeavor to banish thought, she 
 drifted back into her old fashion of sitting content M'ith 
 her hands in her lap, merely enjoying life. The soft pink 
 color that had formerly tinted her cheeks came back, and 
 her deep blue eyes, under the golden beauty of her hair, 
 made one think of seas and sunshine. Again the harpsi- 
 chord and the violin were doing duet duty together — the 
 first music to wliich our house has wakened since Henry 
 died. On the 18th of June, the colonel left us for New 
 York, from whence he expected immediately to sail for 
 England. 
 
 October 8. 1782. 
 
 This summer has been marked by no great battles. 
 There have been skirmishes in the South, and a steady 
 success for the patriot arms. In July, Savannah was 
 evacuated. On the 26th of August, Colonel Laurens, a 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO 509 
 
 brave soldier, a great favorite of General "Washington, 
 and lately our successful envoy to France, was killed in 
 a skirmish. The fighting in the South has ceased since 
 then, and we are now looking for the evacuation of 
 Charleston. The French army went up to Vcrplanck'si 
 Point about the middle of last month. Charles wrote us 
 that the allies were warmly welcomed. Our men, being 
 drawai up in array to greet them, looked better- than 
 usual, as they had received so many arms and clothes 
 from France, and captured so many at Yorktowu. 
 
 The two armies are encamped for the winter about ten 
 miles apart. The army is to be reduced in January. 
 About the middle of August — yes, on the 16th of Au- 
 gust — it was such a surprise as we had ! We were seated 
 at dinner when we heard a knock at the door, and Pom- 
 pey presently crying out: 
 
 " Law ! but it do dese ole eyes good to look on 'e ole 
 Pymouth face ! But, sakes, how you has growed ! Guess 
 Missey nor none of 'em knows you dis time." 
 
 Who could it be ? Pompey pushed the door wider 
 open, and with much pride and satisfaction ushered in a 
 brown-bearded, stout young man, and we all gave several 
 looks before we could be sure that this was no other than 
 Thomas Otis — Thomas who went away fair, smooth- 
 faced, slender, and whom I had made sure was dead. 
 
 Uncle gave him a hearty greeting, taking both his 
 hands and shaking them with all his might. Judith and 
 Susannah were also very cordial. I was so surprised at 
 seeing Thomas back, after all my certainty of the melan- 
 choly fashion of his death, that I stood gazing at him 
 
510 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 speechless until the other two "svclcomed him. Then as 
 I advanced and held out my hand, Thomas cried out 
 cheerily : 
 
 " Here again, Abbey. Did you think I never was 
 coming back ?^' 
 
 " Yes," I said, soberly, " I thought you were never 
 coming back." 
 
 " Eh ? Well, you did n't break your heart about it at 
 all events," said Thomas, laughing. 
 
 "No. Why should I?" I said quickly. "But I 
 thougiit you were a great loss to your country, and me, 
 and every one, all the same." 
 
 "Xow, Miss Hester, are you not going to say a word 
 to me ? " demanded Thomas of Hester, who had coolly 
 remained at the dinner-table. 
 
 " Why," says Hester, " I thought five welcomes enough 
 for any one mortal ; but I remember now you always 
 were given to large demands, and so I add my greeting 
 to the rest ; " and then Nervey came with another plate 
 and seated Thomas between Hester and me. Uncle said 
 a traveler must not be questioned at the dinner-table, and 
 so we were not allowed to demand Thomas's liistory while 
 he was eating. Thomas asked after Charles ; but gay 
 and cureless as he seemed to be, his eye fell on Ju- 
 dith's deep mourning dress, and he was cautious about 
 making inquiries on other things than war news from 
 the South, the facts about Cornwallis, the proceedings of 
 the Congress, and the prospects of peace. After dinner 
 we went into the parlor, and at once we girls clamored 
 for Thomas's history. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 511 
 
 " You seem," said Hester, " as ignorant of army and 
 national affairs as if you had been on a voyage to the 
 moon." 
 
 " Well," said Thomas, " I have been a prisoner and at 
 Montreal for how long I dare not say. I was carried off 
 
 CAPTURE OF THOMAS OTIS BY THE INDIANS. 
 
 in one of the fights up the Mohawk, by some Indians and 
 
 British, and was sent to Montreal to wait exchange — and 
 
 such a waiting as it was ! I found war different from 
 
 what we had imagined it would be, Abbey, when we 
 33 
 
512 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 talked of it, sitting on a hay-mow or rocking on the bay. 
 Then I thought I should jump into a generalship in one 
 or two leaps ; that the fate of the nation would hang 
 upon my valor. As to being captured, that never crossed 
 my mind. If it had, I would have pictured the whole 
 army rising to reclaim me. Sometimes I fancied dying 
 covered with glory and destined to immortal fame; 
 but—" 
 
 "But on the whole," said Hester, "you preferred living 
 with a little less of glory and immortal fame." 
 
 " Exactly," said Thomas — " less romance and more 
 solid comfort for me now. The romance has been some- 
 what rudely dispelled — kept a long while a prisoner, I 
 return to find the war nearly ended without my help, and 
 all of my friends comfortably eating their dinners with- 
 out me." 
 
 Thomas told us that, as a prisoner, he had been very 
 kindly treated in Montreal. The officer who acted as 
 provost of the city had become a great friend of his, and 
 had granted him many privileges. Thomas only intended 
 to stay in the city a short time to refit for camp, and then 
 he was going to West Point. He was full of life and 
 spirits, and exactly like the Thomas of the old Plymouth 
 times. 
 
 He remained two or three days with us, and told us a 
 great many stories of his adventures. Now, of course, I 
 was very glad that Thomas had not been killed. At the 
 same time, I was very glad also that I had not told any 
 one that I had felt it my duty to constitute myself sole 
 mourner for his premature death. And then sometimes, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 513 
 
 in talking of the old days, Thomas fell into a sentimental 
 strain with me, and he seemed to think it as much his 
 duty to treat me gallantly as I had felt it mine to mourn 
 for him. I wonder if it seemed as burdensome ! 
 
 Well, there is no one like Judith. I determined to 
 talk to her, so I followed her to her room one evening, 
 and closing the door stood against it, and ruffling my 
 apron on my finger, remarked : 
 
 " Judith, I am glad Thomas is back." 
 
 " I daresay," replied Judith. 
 
 " But I have been gladder about other things, I 
 think," I added, and as Judith was silent I continued — 
 " And I had really thought Thomas had been killed, and 
 I was very sorry, but not quite so sorry as I liave been 
 about other things." 
 
 "Well," said Judith, quietly, "there was nothing wrong 
 in that." 
 
 "But you see. Cousin Judith," I said, desperately, "a 
 long while ago I had no playmate or young friend but 
 Thomas, and Thomas had no sister, and we liked each 
 other very much, and Thomas talked a deal of nonsense 
 about being true to each other, and liking nobody but 
 me, and I thought that was all right. And now, Judith," 
 I concluded, desperately, "I do not like such talk, and I 
 will not have such talk ! " 
 
 "Not from any body?" asked Judith. 
 
 "Well, not from Thomas," I said, "no one else think 
 of such a thing. I like Thomas, and he likes me, and I 
 wish he would find some one else to like better than me, 
 and not feel himself obliged to drag in compliments and 
 
514 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 sentiments, and all that sort of thing, as if he were paying 
 rae coppers or half crowns — only that one never sees them 
 now — that he owed me." 
 
 Judith laughed. "^Yc\\, what else. Abbey?" 
 
 "Oh, what else, Judith? you think there is more in 
 my mind? AVell, of all things, I hate changeableness and 
 alterino; of one's mind — and I have often said I never 
 changed — and after all you see I have; for once I liked 
 Thomas the best, and now I think him very nice, but not — 
 exactly to my mind." 
 
 "I should be sorry, indeed, to hear that your mind 
 never changed," said Judith; "our minds in many things 
 change by growth, and you know that I have told you 
 girls that here is the danger of too early playing at hav- 
 ing lovers. You grow, and change, and find yourselves 
 entangled by ideas and words that are no longer part of 
 yourselves." 
 
 "But, Judith, I never thought of lovers," I protested. 
 
 " I know you did not, silly child," said Judith ; "you can 
 not see that you have been playing brothers with Thomas. 
 How does that suit?" 
 
 " Oh, dear me," I said with a sigh of relief, " it suits 
 beautifully ! " 
 
 "The fact is," said Judith, "Thomas was playing lover, 
 boy-like, and his mind is encumbered with the old idea. 
 You like Thomas as a friend, but evidently. Abbey, your 
 mind has outgrown him, as any thing else." 
 
 "He is a very nice boy," said I, loftily. 
 
 "Would be more pleasing to you if he were ten years 
 older?" said Judith. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 515 
 
 I blushed, and was silent. Judith said: 
 
 " It only remains for you to free yourself of a false posi- 
 tion by letting him know your views." 
 
 " Oh, Judith/' I cried, " I never, never could, unless 
 he asked me, and I would not have him ask for the 
 world." 
 
 "Simply understand yourself, and intend fairly to be 
 understood, and you will find opportunity to make your 
 views plain." 
 
 Judith spoke so calmly and easily about my vexations, 
 that they began to look smaller to me. This idea that I 
 had only to understand myself clearly, and desire to be 
 fairly understood, strij^ped the situation of a deal of em- 
 barrassment. Thomas had been my old friend and play- 
 mate, the nearest a brother that I ever had, and such 
 I would have him be still, and that clear idea took away 
 a deal of anxiety and vexation that I had felt in his 
 society. And, sure enough, Judith was right. I dare say 
 every day had offered opportunities for making myself 
 plain, only I had been too silly to know it. Only the 
 next day Thomas said to me, when we were alone in the 
 parlor chatting: 
 
 "Abbey, I have had a great loss." 
 
 "Dear me, what can it be?" I said, indifferently. 
 
 " Why, that lock of your hair — but you can make it up 
 to me." 
 
 "Nonsense, to think I would trust another token to 
 such a careless fellow ! " I cried, laughing, and secretly 
 rejoiced. 
 
 "But I was not careless," he protested. "We were 
 
516 P^ TRIOT AND TOR Y: 
 
 marching in the heat, and all of us piled our coats on a 
 baggage-wagon, and my note-book with that memento 
 was in my coat pocket. And all at once some Tories and 
 Indians opened on us out of an ambuscade, and the end 
 of it was that they got our baggage, and some of our fel- 
 lows too. So, you see, I lost my coat, and what was worth 
 more than the coat. Now, I am sure, you will give another 
 token." 
 
 "Not I," I retorted. "I think giving hair is a great 
 folly, only fit for boys and girls. I'm glad you lost 
 mine. No brothers and sisters give locks of hair, as I 
 know of. Charles does not, for one, and yet we re- 
 member him no less. And you know, Thomas, you 
 and I being lonesome sort of children, among the 
 old people at Plymouth, were a kind of brother and 
 sister; and if we can't keep each other well enough 
 in memory without such silly nonsense as a bit of 
 hair, we'd l^etter confess at once to having lost our 
 minds." 
 
 I was knitting. Thomas cried out: 
 
 " Now, upon my word. Abbey Temple, is that the way 
 you look at things?" 
 
 " Stay, do n't bother me now until I count my stitches," 
 said I, cooly ; " I always get wrong turning the heel of a 
 stocking." 
 
 Thomas took his head between his hands, began pull- 
 ing his hair into a great fuzz, the powder flying, and 
 staring at the floor tohistled with all his might. Pres- 
 ently he began again : 
 
 "I say, Abbey Temple, if you have got that heel turned, 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 517 
 
 and will allow me to speak — you always were about the 
 queerest girl going." 
 
 " Four, five, six — thank you, Thomas," said I. 
 
 " But I'd have you to understand that / set up for a 
 romantic young man." 
 
 "Twelve, thirteen, fourteen — I never would have 
 thought it." 
 
 " But I am, and I doat, fairly docd, on locks of hair. I 
 said I wouldn't take any but yours while I had it, but 
 that being lost I comforted myself by making a collec- 
 tion, and here it is." 
 
 Thomas took out his pocket-book, opened some fold- 
 ings of silver paper, and displayed, neatly tied with blue 
 ribbons, a fine store of locks indeed ! Says he : 
 
 " Here is l)rown, flax, yellow, white, red, auburn, gold — 
 every color that I like." 
 
 "Except black/' said I, quietly, as Hester came in. 
 
 "Black, oh, by jove, black,'' said Thomas, striving to 
 get his trophies out of sight, but I prevented him, and 
 cried : 
 
 "Hester, come here, and see how Thomas is emulating 
 the Indian braves of his acquaintance ! " 
 
 Poor Thomas, he flushed and looked uneasy, his little 
 retort on my indifference was going further than he had 
 expected, but I kept fast hold of the tissue. 
 
 "Were the ladies of Montreal so willing to give away 
 their hair?" demanded Hester, laughing. 
 
 "I'll warrant it all came from icigs" said I. 
 
 " Young man, no wonder you were not exchanged sooner, 
 you are very much of a hinnbug. I see reason to doubt 
 
518 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 these trophies. This red hair is from some man's head, 
 and I doubt the quality of this white." 
 
 Here Thomas burst into a roar of laughter, and let- 
 ting go the paper,. he said: 
 
 "No wonder it is a proverb in Plymouth, that there is 
 no deceiving the eye of a Temple ! " 
 
 " Confess at once ! " cried Hester. 
 
 " I '11 confess fully, if you will grant a full absolution ! " 
 said Thomas; "the paper is the result of a frolic of our 
 last day in prison. Our warders had been good jolly fel- 
 lows, and ten of us vowed to have a memorial of them. 
 AVe chased them into a corner, made a cordon, over- 
 powered them, and each of us ten took a lock of hair as 
 a trophy, and we made one of the servants go out and 
 bring us tissue and ribbon to do up these elegant locks. 
 To have in mind all, without partiality, we took this fine 
 gold hair from the curls of one of the sergeant's little boys, 
 and this white — no cheating you Abbey — from the gar- 
 rison poodle! I'll trade the whole lot to any one who 
 will give me one good, honest lock." 
 
 "There are no offers here," said Hester. 
 
 " I '11 give it to any one who will take good care of it, 
 for my sake." 
 
 "D.ar me," said Hester, "there is no one here will take 
 the trouble." 
 
 "Well, then," said Thomas, restoring it to his pocket, 
 "I'll keep it, and whoever takes me for better or Avorse, 
 will have to take that too." 
 
 "We are warned in time," cried Hester; "and to be 
 warned is to be wise," and away she went. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 519 
 
 "And you think I admire black hair?" said Thomas, 
 looking; after her — and he said no more. But somehow 
 this nonsense put Thomas and me on the old free and 
 comfortable footing, frank and friendly, neither of us 
 burdened by any further idea of playing at lovers; and it 
 was a notable thing to me, that Thomas — doubtless re- 
 lieved of a burden as much as I was — began to find 
 Hester remarkably good company. 
 
 Thomas, after a short stay in Philadelphia, went to 
 West Point, where what remains of his company are 
 gathered. He wrote to us soon after, that in the general 
 raggedness and shabbiness of the camp, even of general 
 officers, his new clothes, his powder, ruffles, and other 
 elegancies, in which he had indulged, were quite out of 
 fashion. As for fighting, there was at present no more 
 to do than he had had in Montreal, nor indeed so much, 
 for there he could occasionally relieve his feelings by a 
 passage at fisticuffs with his jailers, and his fare was 
 not nearly so good as he had had in prison in Canada. 
 He says he agrees with General "Washington, that it is 
 high time for a peace. 
 
 Hester has begun quite a flourishing correspondence 
 with Thomas. His mad-cap style just fits her own, and 
 she entertains us frequently in our sewing hours by 
 reading her letters and his to us, and we receive their 
 nonsense with shouts of applause. 
 
 Charles's letters are not so merry; the discontents of 
 the army, both of privates and officers, make him forebode 
 trouble even after peace is declared. My uncle is also 
 greatly anxious lest a sufficiently strong central govern- 
 
520 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 ment is not guaranteed. Mr. Morris is our only finan- 
 cier, and many of the people only half trust hiin because 
 
 he is an Eno-lishman. Mr. and Mistress Morris, Mr. Sea- 
 
 . . . ' 
 
 forth and his family and a few other friends, came to tea 
 
 mth us only yesterday. Mr. Seaforth has now ceased to 
 expect a conquest of this country by Britain. He looks 
 for peace on the ground of the declared independence of 
 the thirteen colonies. Indeed, it is supposed that our 
 commissioners, Franklin, Adams, Jay, and Henry Lau- 
 rens, are now at Paris treating with British commissioners 
 for a peace. 
 
 This expectation of peace formed the chief subject of 
 conversation. We none of us said what was first in our 
 thoughts, why, if peace was to be made thus, could it not 
 have been made two or three years ago ; it would have 
 saved us Henry Seaforth, and other families many a brave 
 man. It is expected that the property of loyalists will 
 now be confiscated. My uncle feels warmly against that, 
 on account of Mr. Seaforth. He says truly, that the more 
 busy and prosperous citizens a State has, the more pros- 
 perous is the State itself; and he can not see that the 
 country will be benefited by impoverishing those who 
 would make faithful and law-abiding citizens now, whose 
 consciences were against taking part in what they regarded 
 as a rebellion. Mr. Morris said, he had heard it whis- 
 pered that some of ]Mr. Seaforth's enemies were even now 
 moving to get his property seized. 
 
 " Well, Harry," said Uncle John, " I shall move every 
 body and every thing that I can to save your estates, just 
 as you would have done for me had the event of this war 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 521 
 
 been different ; l)ut at the worst, Harry, do you remem- 
 ber a bit of contract that we signed ? That requires you 
 to become my partner if they do confiscate your prop- 
 erty." 
 
 "Ah, but," said Mr. Seaforth, " you know, John, I did 
 not sign that expecting it would throw me on your 
 hands." 
 
 " No," replied my uncle, " but you must keep up to 
 your contract, like an honest man ; you know I have your 
 signature." 
 
 ]\Ir. Robert Morris began speaking of the letter which 
 it is rumored that Nicola wrote to General Washington, 
 suggesting that he should be the king of this new nation. 
 Mr. Morris said here lay our danger, in losing the liber- 
 ties we had so hardly gained, by endeavoring to set up in 
 this New World, governments copied from the Old. The 
 idea of a Republic, he said, had not dawned in its comple- 
 tion on very many minds. A military despotism, heredi- 
 tary government, whether we called the man at its head 
 king, count, serene highness, or emperor, were alike 
 unfitted to the genius and requirements of this western 
 hemisphere, and would be alike disastrous. 
 
 My Uncle John said that he did not apprehend trouble 
 from such cause ; he thought the republican idea was 
 pretty thoroughly sown over the land. Uncle says he 
 fears our great trouble will be, not possessing a simplicity 
 of manners and style of living suitable to a republican 
 government. He says that what he has seen of extrava- 
 gance and folly in this city, even during these terrible 
 war times, has made him fear that we in this country will 
 
522 PATRIOT Ay D TORY: 
 
 try to ape other lands, not so much in their form of gov- 
 ernment, as in the wastefulness and fashions of living ; 
 that republican men and women, instead of holding sim- 
 plicity, sincerity, and learning, as things of highest worth 
 and most honoring to them, will think dress, entertain- 
 ments, furniture, and grand equipage, the best object of 
 their ambition, that they may vie with the courts, and 
 parades, and nobles of foreign countries. 
 
 My uncle continued : " This country, with all its future 
 to make, with debts to pay, roads and public buildings to 
 build, the ravages of war to repair, and the people realiz- 
 ing themselves as all upon an equality, and supporting 
 the government by revenues raised from among them- 
 selves and subject to their own voice, will not choose to 
 give their officials enormous salaries to maintain them in a 
 style far above that of the people whom they represent. 
 Our farmers and artisans will not pay heavy taxes to sup- 
 port secretaries, and congressmen, and presidents in a 
 magnificence of living which will teach them to despise 
 those very farmers and artisans as an inferior race. If 
 with these moderate salaries our public officers, chosen 
 out of the people, and often men of no private fortunes, 
 expect to keep establishments similar to those of foreign 
 nobles of great hereditary property, and to give enter- 
 tainments like those with which foreign rulers amuse their 
 courtiers, then public honesty Avill be at a discount, offi- 
 cial purity will l)e unequal to the temptation of the po- 
 sition, and we shall stand before the world disgraced, the 
 people robbed by their representatives, brother bribing 
 and plundering brother, the American government a 
 
 i 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 523 
 
 laughing-stock among the nations, as a kind of thieves, 
 a bold banditti crew, flaunting in high places." 
 
 How Uncle John, as he spoke, reminded me of great- 
 grandfather ! His whole soul was in what he was say- 
 ing, for my uncle despises and detests extravagance and 
 fashionable follies ; for he says that these are never, and 
 can never be indulged, except by robbing God and one's 
 neighbor. 
 
 Mrs. Seaforth said : " Mr. Temple, you have shown a 
 danger, a very great danger to this country ; where is the 
 remedy ? " 
 
 " I suppose," replied Uncle John, " that it is the one 
 old remedy, good for all the evils in this world — god- 
 liness ! " 
 
 "And," said Mistress Seaforth, "that godliness must 
 begin at home. This extravagance and fashion^ which 
 you, sir, so deprecate, never can spring up and flourish 
 without the aid of women. Very many men have a pas- 
 sion for grand style and large expenditures, and yet if 
 even these men have judicious, honest-minded mothers, 
 sisters, wives, they will find their follies checked. If you 
 would stay the extravagance and love of show, which you 
 deplore as growing up here in America, you must begin 
 with American w^omen. A public officer, Avhose wife is 
 like the virtuous woman in Proverbs, will never be a de- 
 faulter. \yhen you find women honest enough, and wise 
 enough, to say of an expense, I can not aiford it ; women 
 who will dare limit their expenses by their income, and 
 who would blush to wear an unpaid for jewel, or a velvet 
 which had been earned by swindling; women who will 
 
524 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 think themselves of worth for what they are in heart and 
 brain, and not for what they wear, then you will be as- 
 sured of incorruptible public men." 
 
 "You have started my wife on her special hobby," 
 said Mr. Seaforth. 
 
 " I would," replied Uncle John, " that she would so 
 talk to these young women every hour in the day;" and 
 indeed, we girls and Bessie were hanging on her words, 
 convinced of their truth and value. I think if all women 
 and girls held views like Mistress Seaforth and Judith, 
 the future prosperity of this country would be assured. 
 
 November 3, 1782. 
 
 I have had a letter from Dame Warren. She is at home 
 in Plymouth, and hopes to have me visit her. She told 
 me of the death of her famous brother, Mr. James Otis. 
 It happened according to his wish. He was killed on the 
 23d of last May, at the door of Mv. Osgood's house in 
 Andover. He had always expressed a desire to die by a 
 stroke of lightning, and this, indeed, was his end. Dame 
 \yarren sent me a poem written about it, by Honorable 
 Thomas Dawes — two lines are : 
 
 "One chosen, ch.aritable bolt is sped, 
 And Otis mingles with the glorious dead." 
 
 He was truly as much a martyr to liberty as any who fell 
 in battle. 
 
 A day or two ago I heard of the death of another 
 friend — the Indian Ta-ga-jute. Mistress Logan was here, 
 and she said Logan went straight from here to Detroit, 
 after he rescued me from Brown, and there, near Detroit, 
 he was killed in a drunken frenzy. Poor, faithful, elo- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 525 
 
 queut Ta-ga-jute ! Truly, as he said, the fire-water was 
 the white man's evil gift to him. 
 
 Uncle Matthew has been visiting us. He was sending 
 to Nantes to his partner for various goods, and Judith 
 sent for a great quantity of things. Susannah has had 
 two letters from the colonel, who threatens instant return 
 to be married, and Mr. Seaforth has had the best accounts 
 of him from his friends, and uncle has written that he 
 may come when peace comes. So Judith must be ready 
 to give our Susannah a suitable trousseau to go to Eng- 
 land. The lists of fine goods set us girls quite wild with 
 delight. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 February 2, 1783. 
 "QY order of Congress, the army was reduced the 1st of 
 ■^'^ January. Charleston was evacuated on the 14th of 
 December, and now the only place held by the British is 
 New York, and Sir Guy Carleton will be ready to leave 
 there as soon as peace is proclaimed. Richard Reid and 
 Thomas Otis were in regiments that were disbanded. 
 They came here before they went to Boston. Mr. Reid 
 intends now to finish reading theology, and take a con- 
 gregation. Thomas is going into the India trade ; the 
 gentleman who was his guardian, and formerly his father's 
 partner, is in that line, and Thomas is going to have a 
 share in the firm. He talks much of making a big for- 
 tune. Hester said she did not understand how any one 
 could prefer so grave a man as Mr. Reid to Thomas 
 
526 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Otis. Well, I never said that I preferred Mr. Keid to 
 any one. 
 
 Thomas is very full of fun, and he dresses most gor- 
 geously ; but Mr. Keid is infinitely the greater scholar, 
 and knows all about books, still Hester does not care for 
 books. Thomas Otis said while he was here, one day, 
 that all the books he cared to see were the Bible and an 
 account-book. 
 
 "Why," says Hester, "you are as catholic in your 
 taste as I am ; all I want of books w'ould be a Bible and 
 a cook-book. 
 
 "Well, Hester," said Thomas; "when you and I go to 
 housekeeping we will have two Bibles, an account-book, 
 and a cook-book for our entire library — unless we add 
 Poor Richard^s Almanac." 
 
 At this bit of impudence, Hester solemnly rose and 
 held out her liand to Thomas. He took it meekly. She 
 led him to the door, handed him into the hall, and 
 remarking : " Thomas, go and amuse yourself, you 
 have been here too long." Came back to us and her 
 sewing. 
 
 " What is poor Mr. Otis to do in that cold hall ! " said 
 Bessie. 
 
 " I do not care, I am sure ; the idea of his taking 
 things for granted in that way ! " retorted Hester. 
 
 " Well, but when he asks you properly, what will you 
 say?" urged Bessie, who has not lost her penchant for 
 love aifairs. 
 
 " Oh," replied Hester, sewing diligently, " I shall say 
 no twice." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 527 
 
 " That will be very discouraging to jioor Thomas," 
 said I. 
 
 " Xot if he is a good grammarian/' said Hester. 
 
 Susannah and I laughed, but Bessie persisted, ""Whv?" 
 
 "He Avill understand that two negatives make an af- 
 firmative." 
 
 I suppose that Hester had her opportunity for the two 
 negatives, for Thomas went off in a very cheerful frame 
 of mind, with uncle's permission for his coming back in 
 May, to get Hester. We shall be dreadfully lonely with- 
 out her. 
 
 I got very angry at Thomas the evening before he 
 left. He is such a mad-cap. AYe were going out to 
 spend the evening in a little company. Charles was at 
 home, and was taking Susannah. Thomas said : 
 
 " Come, Hester, let us two be off, and leave Mr. Reid 
 for Abbey." 
 
 I would not have minded that, but he must go on and 
 say : 
 
 "Goodness! how mad I used to get at Dick Reid for 
 sitting or walking by you long ago in Plymouth. That 
 was always one of Dick's failings. Abbey, but now I 
 do n't mind it." 
 
 "One grows wiser with age," I said. 
 
 "Eh? Well I don't know in this case whether it is 
 wisdom or compensation," said Thomas, going off with 
 Hester. 
 
 However, Mr. Reid paid no more attention to the stu- 
 pid's remarks than if he had not made them, and I recov- 
 ered my good humor. 
 34 
 
528 PATRIOT A^D TORY: 
 
 Charles went back to camp when the other gentlemen 
 set off for Boston. We girls are all busy now helping to 
 prepare for Hester's marriage and Susannah's ; for if we 
 are to judge Colonel Nelson's ways by his Avords, he will 
 be here on the ship that brings news of peace. It will 
 be such a long way for Susannah to go. If England were 
 only a little nearer, or if there were only some way to 
 annihilate time and space, so that one could get to the 
 old country in a few days! But that is impossible. 
 
 Charles intends to leave the army this spring and come 
 back into uncle's business. I had a letter from Deborah 
 Samson. She has gone to Shoreham to live. She said 
 Mrs. Hooper could now get on without her tolerably 
 well, and the rumor of her own elopement with a British 
 soldier had never died, and was getting rather wearisome, 
 as she could not contradict it by telling where she had 
 spent the time of her absence from Plymouth. 
 
 April 30, 1783. 
 
 I must set myself to recording matters regularly, and 
 in a business-like fashion, though I feel like jotting down 
 my news in any style of confusion. To begin : Charles 
 went back to camp in January, and Ave were all wondrous 
 busy at home. He Avrote us of the discontents in the 
 camp, and the fears of officers and men that their claims 
 would be unheeded. In March anonymous papers began 
 to be circulated in the army, calling on the officers to 
 obtain redress for their grievances. Many officers, as 
 Charles and Mr. Reid and Thomas Otis, do not expect to 
 take pay for their services; they have means of their 
 own, and think the country burdened enough already; 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 509 
 
 but other men must have their pay or be penniless. 
 The general does not intend to take compensation for his 
 long services. The anonymous addresses stirred up the 
 camp to much indignation. Finally, the general having 
 memorialized Congress several times concerning the needs, 
 fears, and rights of the army, announced that he would 
 meet the conclave that had been called for the loth of 
 ISIarch. Charles was present. He says that he felt to 
 thank God as much for the general's wisdom and pru- 
 dence and patriotism on the eve of peace, as for any thing 
 in his conduct of war. 
 
 The general read an address tending to arouse self-sac- 
 rificing views, to reconcile the army to Congress, to calm 
 and elevate all minds, and to give a confidence in the 
 good faith and success of the country. At the close of 
 his address he said that he would read a letter from the 
 Honorable Joseph Jones, a member of Congress, giving 
 assurance that the army would be fairly dealt with. Tak- 
 ing the letter. General Washington read one sentence, 
 paused, took out his spectacles, and begged leave to put 
 them on, remarking quietly that " as he had grown gray 
 in their service, he also found himself growing blind." 
 Charles said the remark was so unaifected, so sincere, so 
 matter-of-fact, that it went straight to every heart, and 
 was as convincing as the most splendid burst of Patrick 
 Henry's oratory could be. This man — intrepid in battle, 
 patient in persecution, calm in danger, persevering under 
 misfortune, moderate in victory, humble before adulation, 
 honest as in God's sight — commanded every heart ; and as 
 he left the room the officers passed resolutions to abide 
 
530 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 by his counsels, and by no distress should they be led to 
 sully the glory of their eight years of faithful service. 
 And so, as we have been led through the dangers of war 
 by this marvelous man, are we by him piloted to safety, 
 through the dangers of j^eace ; and the evil that threat- 
 ened the country from the disaffection and disbanding of 
 the army is likely to pass away. 
 
 In Paris, on the 20th of January, a treaty of peace Avas 
 signed. An armed ship, the Triumph, belonging to the 
 French fleet, under Count D'Estaing, arrived from Cadiz 
 here at Philadelphia, on the 23d of March, bringing a 
 letter from the Marquis La Fayette, to the President of 
 Congress, containing this blessed news. We were here as 
 a people gone mad with joy. After eight weary years the 
 cloud of war has rolled by. True, this proclamation is 
 for cessation of hostilities, and many minor points remain 
 to be settled, but the end is assured. Charles wrote us 
 that by the 1st of April, Sir Guy Carleton wrote to Gen- 
 eral Washington, announcing that he had been instructed 
 to proclaim cessation of hostilities by sea and land. Al- 
 most immediately a number of officers had leave to ob- 
 tain their discharge, and Charles was one of the first to 
 do so. As the day when, with tears and forebodings we 
 saw him depart, was doleful, so the day when he returned 
 to put off his regimentals and settle into quiet business 
 life, was very joyful. 
 
 There was that sad thought of one, Avho should have 
 shared and added to the rejoicings of that day ; but we 
 tried to be thankful for the mercies that we had received, 
 and to take comfort concerning him whom we had lost. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 531 
 
 We decked the house with flowers, made a feast, and in- 
 vited some of our friends, and so celebrated Charles's 
 home-coming. 
 
 Just after Charles came'back we had a letter from Isa- 
 iah Hooper ; at last he is going home. Congress, w^hile 
 retaining its hold on those enlisted for the war, until the 
 ratification of definitive articles of peace, yet instructed 
 the general to grant furloughs without stint, and so Isaiah 
 is out of service virtually. He Avrote us that gratitude 
 urged him to come at once to Philadelphia, and bid fare- 
 well to us, to whom twice he had owed his life, but the 
 feelings of a husband and father, who, for eight years had 
 not seen his wife and children, made every hour's delay 
 in meeting them seem cruel, and he knew us well enough 
 to believe that we would bid him at once go home. 
 
 How well I remember the day when I helped little 
 ten-year-old Liza put up her father's luncheon when he 
 started for the war ! We find from Isaiah's letter that he 
 is likely to get home eight years from the day when he 
 left. In those eight years he has become an old man ; 
 his Liza is a young woman engaged to be married. The 
 boys of four and seven are now sturdy lads managing the 
 farm. The two-year-old baby has become a prim little 
 school-girl — and so Isaiah goes home a stranger to his 
 own children ; but that strangeness will soon wear away. 
 
 The 1st of April our goods came from Nantes, and we 
 made a gala day of the unpacking. Mrs. Seaforth had 
 sent for parcels for Annie, and so in both houses prepara- 
 tions for the marriages are hurried on, though Uncle 
 John is holdino; Colonel Nelson to the letter of his in- 
 
532 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 structions, and will not let Susannah go until the definitive 
 treaty is concluded. Annie and Charles are to be married 
 on the same day with Susannah, but Hester on the 15th 
 of May, and then Uncle John and I will go to Boston 
 with her, and thence to Plymouth. 
 
 Judith, in apportioning her new purchases, laid by as 
 much for me as for Hester or Susannah, and when I de- 
 clared upon the folly of so doing, she said we could not 
 send to Nantes every day, and I should not find her un- 
 prepared for any demands. Well, Judith is just mistaken, 
 that is all. 
 
 Plymmth, JjJJSE 19, 1783. 
 
 Here at last in the blessed old home ! Sitting once 
 more under the big apple-tree — house and garden, flowers, 
 fields, and sunshine, old well with its wet ropes and 
 rusty chains, birds twittering overhead — all seem as they 
 did ten years ago, when I sat under this tree beginning 
 this journal. I might fancy grandmother busy there in 
 the house; and Uncle John sitting in the doorway looks 
 just like my grandfather. Hester was married on the 
 15th of May. The marriage was at the house, at eight in 
 the morning; then we had a grand breakfast — all our 
 friends being invited, and at twelve, Thomas and Hester, 
 Uncle John and I, set off for Boston — Pompey, by a week, 
 preceded us, going much more slowly, driving a great 
 wagon of Hester's property. 
 
 We were a very merry party. Hester looked as charm- 
 ing as possible. She wore a brown cloth riding-dress and 
 jacket, with large white pearl buttons and white satin 
 facings, quilted closely. She had a brown satin hat, Avith 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 533 
 
 a long white ostrich plume, and a crimson silk scarf 
 about her neck. She and Thomas were full of their non- 
 sense. Uncle John indulged our merry humor by turn- 
 ing boy for the occasion, and as we were all well mounted, 
 we rattled along at a fine pace. Thomas had furnished a 
 very pleasant house in Boston, and when our journey was 
 finished we found ourselves there as Hester's guests. 
 The house was all ready for us. Thomas's old friend, his 
 former guardian's wife, had taken charge, hired servants, 
 and prepared a feast, to which chief friends had been in- 
 vited. Uncle and I stopped there three days, but I was 
 eager to be here in Plymouth. 
 
 Mr. Reid met us in Boston, and rode to Plymouth with 
 us. We reached the town near night-fall, and went to 
 Dame Mercy Warren's. 
 
 Next morning we came hither. As we passed Isaiah 
 Hooper's, we heard a loud shout, and there was Isaiah 
 a-field with his two sons. His call brought Mistress Hooper 
 and her elder daughter to the door, and so nothing would 
 do but we must stop there for awhile. The little girl, 
 dinner-basket in hand, was starting for school, but she 
 returned — and, indeed, the family overwhelmed me with 
 their affection, as the preserver of the father; but I do 
 not so look at it. If I had not chanced to help Isaiah 
 tW'ice, some one else would have been found to do so. 
 Isaiah looks younger already, and is growing stouter. 
 
 Yet a little farther on, after we had left Mr. Hooper's, 
 and another call was heard, and a one-armed man stood 
 at a lane-gate holding it open — Joseph Dana, sure enough ; 
 and there we must go in. I w-anted to press oh, but the 
 
534 PATRIOT AND TOBY: 
 
 thought of that aged woman whose daughter had died for 
 the cause, turned my steps ; and, in fine, we stopped at the 
 deacon's past dinner-time, the okl people listening to all 
 Ave could tell them of Hannah. Mrs. Dana said : 
 
 " People thought it strange that wo could let her go ; 
 but we owed the country all that we could do for it; and 
 Hannah's only comfort, since Jonas Hooper died, was 
 doing good to others." 
 
 " Yes," said INIr. Reid, " hers was a faithful heart. She 
 desired only to fill np her time in this world by doing 
 good, and then to join him whom she had loved so en- 
 tirely." 
 
 '' Well," said the deacon, " she wrote us that she went 
 to camp knowing that she had one brother there, but she 
 found in you and ]\Ir. Bowdoin two more." 
 
 " We felt honored by her calling us her brothers," said 
 Richard. 
 
 With all our haste, it was afternoon before we came 
 to the old home. I could not wait even to change my 
 riding-dress until I went about all the house, and into 
 the garden, and to the barn. Uncle and ]Mr. Reid sent 
 away the horses and let me go 1)y myself. Finally, I 
 was satisfied enough to go to my own old room and dress, 
 and at five o'clock we had tea in the common room — 
 uncle, and Mr. Reid and I. 
 
 The days here have been so delightful I was never so 
 happy in my life. All the neighbors have been to see me. 
 Uncle and I have decided on the repairs, and the new 
 fences and the arbor — only uncle is wanting to make it 
 over-fine for a rented place ; but I suppose lie knows 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 535 
 
 ABBEY AND RICHARD REID AT PLYMOUTH. 
 
 I 
 
536 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 best. Mr. Reicl and I have had walks and drives all 
 about, and we have been to the bay, fishing and lobster- 
 ing, and on Sunday we w'ere at the old church. We 
 visited those graves which the kind people here have 
 kept with such care, and we talked of those good and 
 happy lives that ended before the great troubles of our 
 war came. 
 
 I had yesterday two letters. One was from Deborah, 
 from Shoreham. She has just married a Mr. Gannett, a 
 farmer, and says she has a good home and is very happy. 
 The other letter was from Charles. They have had 
 trouble in Philadelphia from a mutiny in the army. The 
 newer soldiers — not the veteran troops — to the number 
 of some three hundred, besieged the State House, where 
 Congress was in session, and threatened violence if their 
 demands were not complied with in twenty minutes. 
 Congress, in indignation, adjourned to Princeton. Gen- 
 eral Howe came with fifteen hundred men to quell the 
 mutiny. Some of the ringleaders were condemned to 
 death, but Charles expects that after a^vhile they will be 
 pardoned. This trouble was all from the new recruits — 
 not from those men who have borne the burden of the 
 war. 
 
 We are to start for Philadelphia about the 10th of 
 July. We have had a letter from Hester, declaring 
 Boston the finest place in the world, and "Thomas quite a 
 piece of perfection, when he has her at hand to keep him 
 in order ! " Mr. Reid is intending to stay here until we 
 set out for home. Deacon Dana told me that he expects 
 this church, which has had no settled pastor since Mr. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 537 
 
 Bowdoin left, to invite Mr. Reid to take charge next 
 year. 
 
 November 28, 1783. 
 
 Here is a long blank — from Plymouth in lovely June 
 to Philadelphia in windy November. But a deal has 
 been said and done since Uncle John and I had our 
 delightful ride back through the new-mown fields and the 
 green woodlands from Plymouth to Philadelphia. 
 
 The final treaty of peace was so long delayed, that 
 Charles and Annie concluded not to wait for Susannah, 
 and they were married the 1st of September. They are 
 living. with Mr, Seaforth, and they are all so fond of 
 Bessie that she is staying there, too. She just suits Mis- 
 tress Seaforth noio. Bessie has a sweet voice and plays 
 pleasantly on the harpsichord. She is fond of embroid- 
 ery and all fancy-work, and she and Mistress Seaforth 
 pass hours at such employments. They also make many 
 clothes for the poor, and medicines and lotions and dainty 
 food for the sick, whom they visit very faithfully. Bessie 
 is also skilled in making rose-water and lavender-water, 
 and other perfumes, with which she keeps us all supplied. 
 She has gained a taste for such reading as Mistress Sea- 
 forth prefers, and we find the good lady reading Herbert's 
 poems and Goldsmith's works by the hour to Annie and 
 Bessie. I think they are all happy in their way : Bessie 
 by far happier and more contented in her mind than ever 
 in the old times when she was so wild ; Mrs. Seaforth 
 looking to meeting her son in a better world, and now 
 come out of the nisrht of her sorrow into some daAvn-land 
 of rest, waiting for an unending day ; Annie and Charles 
 
538 PATRIOT ANB TORY: 
 
 entirely happy in each other. The day after the mar- 
 riage Charles and Annie set off to Virginia to visit Uncle 
 Matthew Temple. They were gone a month. 
 
 On the 18th of September, who should appear among 
 us but Colonel Nelson — though now he has left the 
 army — and his uncle. They had left England the 1st of 
 August, and had had a very fine passage. The colonel 
 said that when he left home the signing of the definitive 
 treaty was daily expected. He thought if he waited for 
 that the season would grow too late to take Susannah to 
 England this year, and that his uncle had come with 
 him, hoping that my uncle would agree to having the 
 marriage take place at once, the colonel and Susannah to 
 remain in Philadelphia until the next spring. 
 
 My uncle, glad to have Susannah at home so long, 
 gave his consent^ and we had the wedding on the 10th 
 of October. It was much more grand a wedding than 
 either of the others, on account of Mr. Nelson's Uncle 
 being here and the style of living which he maintains at 
 home. The colonel brought Susannah a splendid present 
 of pearls and diamonds, and his uncle gave her a case of 
 various articles of jewelry of turquois and pearls, re- 
 marking as he did so that jewels were given as an 
 improvement in appearance generally, and that in that 
 light he might well have left his at home, for Susannah 
 needed no improving nor any addition to her appearance. 
 He is perfectly delighted with Susannah, and says his 
 nephew was quite right — there never was any one to be 
 compared with her. Susannah was dressed in white satin 
 and white brocade, and Judith gave her all their mother's 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 539 
 
 lace, except one shawl, which had been among her gifts 
 to Annie. 
 
 Mr. Nelson's uncle especially amused us by his ecsta- 
 sies. He rubbed his hands, walked up and down, and, 
 admiring the bridal couple immensely, would say to 
 every one : 
 
 " By George, but they are a splendid pair ! I '11 have 
 them presented at court. I do not fancy such a couple 
 have been seen, even in London, this fifty years!" 
 
 He was so entirely well pleased, that though he drank 
 every toast that was given, and gave several himself with 
 great gusto, he did not resent our greater abstemiousness, 
 nor the fact that the bridal pair set down their glasses 
 about as full as when they lifted them. Some one — Mr. 
 Morris, I think — asked him : Did he allow his nephew 
 and niece to slight his toasts. 
 
 "Oh, by George," said he, "I've made up my mind to 
 let those two do just as they like, without a question ; 
 and, by George, I've known more people hindered than 
 helped by taking Avine, though it never hurt me." 
 
 All in all, Susannah's new uncle is one of the jolliest 
 and most liberal of men, and we w^ere very sorry when 
 he left us. He sailed from New York on the 25th of 
 this month, when Sir Guy Carleton evacuated that city 
 and our troops marched in. Mr. Nelson had been an old 
 friend of Sir Guy, and went home in his ship. The 
 definitive treaty was signed on the 3d of September, in 
 Paris, and now all our land is our own, and the last 
 company of British soldiers are out upon the sea, home- 
 ward bound. I dare say they were as glad to go as we 
 
540 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 Mere to get rid of them. I hope they will never come 
 back except as friends, and then let them come as many 
 and as often as they like. Colonel Nelson and Susannah 
 expect to sail for England the 1st of June. 
 
 A gentleman from New York came here this evening. 
 He left the day before yesterday morning. He says 
 amnesty to all loyalists is proclaimed. The British went 
 off feeling very amiable, and the patriot citizens were wild 
 with joy at the entrance of General Washington. The 
 British, when they marched out of Fort George, nailed 
 the E.iglish flag to the top of the staff, and left it flying, 
 knocking away the elects and greasing the pole. A sailor 
 boy of the patriots got new elects, and went up the pole, 
 nailing the cleets on as he ascended ; and taking down the 
 flag he nailed the stars and stripes in its place, and the 
 army saluted it with thirteen guns. Congress is now in 
 session at Annapolis, and the general goes there in a few 
 days to resign his command. Bessie is to come here and 
 keep the house, and uncle with Judith and myself will go 
 to Annapolis to be present on that important day. 
 
 January 2, 1784. 
 
 General Washington, on his way to Annapolis, stopped 
 here at Philadelphia, to close his accounts with the 
 Comptroller of the Treasury. Mr. Morris said to my 
 uncle in an ecstasy of admiration of the general : 
 
 "He is a man jierfect in every thing. He has kept his 
 accounts from tlie commencement of the war down to the 
 thirteenth of this actual month of December, as perfectly 
 and clearly as if keeping accounts had been the sole busi- 
 ness of his life." 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 541 
 
 My uncle said : " How long in the history of this 
 country Avill it be able to be said, that her public men 
 leave their offices without the question of one penny 
 in the accounts of their expenditures, and without the 
 shadow of a stain on the entire unselfishness of their 
 services ? " 
 
 "At all events," said Mr. Morris, "you can not look 
 for many duplicates of George Washington." 
 
 " Well," said my uncle, " that schedule of Washington's 
 public account will forever stand before the American 
 people a touchstone of honesty in office, whereby we can 
 try the administration of all other men." 
 
 As the general went through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, 
 and Maryland, he was hailed by an enthusiastic people, 
 and greeted with addresses from civil officers, legislatures, 
 and learned institutions. The people rose up as one man 
 to do him honor. 
 
 The time of the general's resignation of his command 
 was fixed for twelve o'clock of the twenty-third of Decem- 
 ber. Our party of three was among the favored ones 
 admitted to the floor of the Hall of Congress. Lady 
 Washington and other ladies were in the gallery. 
 
 It was a most impressive scene. The audience listened 
 breathless when the President — General INIifflin — signified 
 that the Congress was ready to receive any communication 
 from the general, and then Washington rose from his chair. 
 His speech was sliort and grave, clear and to the point, 
 resigning his command of the armies, commending the 
 soldiers to the gratitude and justice of Congress, and the 
 M'hole country to God. T think there was not one per- 
 
542 
 
 PATRIOT AND TORY 
 
 son in tho room who was not weeping, and inwardly 
 thanking God that he had made such a man as this for 
 the conduct of our nation in its peril. I shall never 
 cease to he glad that I was present on such an occasion. 
 The next day the general left Annapolis M'ith his com- 
 pany to arrive at Mount Vernon on Christmas eve, and 
 
 GENERAL WASHINGTON RESIGNING HIS COMMAND. 
 
 there has the love and gratitude and blessing of his 
 country followed him. 
 
 We were home on New Year's eve. Bessie gave us 
 two letters, one for me, and one for my uncle, both from 
 Mr. Reid. Mr. Reid said that he had accepted the request 
 of my grandflither's former people to become their pastor 
 in the spring. He asked me if I could find it in my 
 heart to come back to the old home as his wife. He said 
 this had been his dearest wish, since first he had seen me 
 at Dame Mercy Warren's at Plymouth, but that as I had 
 
OyE nUNDRED YEARS AGO. 543 
 
 seemed so unconscious of his feclinjrs, he had not thought 
 it right to try and engage my affections when he was in 
 daily peril of his life in the army. He had, however, 
 spoken of his hopes to Dame Warren, to Judith, and to 
 my uncle, and they had approved of his views, and of his 
 waiting until the country was quiet before speaking of 
 them. He said he fancied I had believed him very fond 
 of Hannah, but that of course I must have come to realize 
 that his feelings for that good and heroic woman had been 
 those of a brother. Finally, he said, if I consented to 
 have him come in the spring to bring me to the old place, 
 I would make all Plymouth glad. 
 
 I sat in my room a long while, with the letter in my 
 hand, very happy, but too bashful to go down stairs. At 
 last there came a knock at my door, and Uncle John's 
 voice. I bade him come in. 
 
 He said : " Since you would not come to me, little 
 maid, I have come to you. What shall I say to such a 
 letter as this? (and he held out Mr. Reid's). Have I not 
 been plundered enough by Thomas Otis and Colonel 
 Nelson, that here is a man must demand you for Ply- 
 mouth? A cold and scraggy bit of country that! unfit for 
 roses; do you not say so?" 
 
 " Oh, it is a lovely country, and roses thrive there won- 
 drous Avell," I cried, eager in defense of the loved spot. 
 
 "Ah, hah ! well, evidently it is in your mind to go and 
 
 cultivate them there," said my uncle, laughing ; and then 
 
 in a graver mood he took my hand, and bade God bless 
 
 me! and said he knew I would be happy, for "the mercy 
 
 of the Lord is on the thousands of generations of those 
 35 
 
544 PATRIOT AND TORY: 
 
 that fear Him ; " and he said that he had looked for this, 
 and that it had been in his mind when he bid me bny 
 the homestead, and when he ordered the repairs, and 
 he had told Mr. Reid that if I agreed to come I must 
 have that home. 
 
 So we went down stairs, and Judith, and Susannah, and 
 Bessie kissed me, and said they hoped I would be as 
 happy as I always wished to make other people. To-day 
 I wrote Richard, and my uncle wrote also, and said 
 that the marriage should be on the 5th of May, and 
 that Susannah and INIr. Nelson would see us to Ply- 
 mouth, and call on Hester at Boston, before they sailed 
 for England. They have put off leaving America until 
 
 July 6th. 
 
 Plymouth, June 10, 1784. 
 
 Again at the old home, mine now for always, I hope. 
 After Richard's letter and my answer, we were all busy 
 indeed getting ready for my coming hither. At the first 
 news, Nervey began to make her arrangements ; but it 
 seemed wrong to me to take her from Judith, who has 
 had her this eight years. I said as much to her. I was 
 in the kitchen with Judith at the time, preparing fruit for 
 a cake that she was making. Nervey burst into a loud 
 laugh. 
 
 " Jes hear dat chile ! " she cried. Then another roar of 
 laughter — then : " Missey Judith ! jes you hark to Missey 
 Abbey. Why she tinks she kin keep house widout me 
 an' Peter an' Pompey ! Why, Miss Abbey, jes see 
 hyar;" and Nervey placed her hands on her hips, planted 
 her feet firmly, threw back her turbanded head, and en- 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 545 
 
 tered upon her favorite reminiscences heard often before. 
 "Why, I libbed wid dat chile's mudder when she wa'n't 
 mor'n eighteen. When my Peter war a baby she cum 
 right often to my cabin, and had him in her two ban's, 
 and she made he a pink frock ; now I'se got dat frock 
 yit, dis berry minit when I'se speakin'. Ef I didn't tote 
 Miss Abbey roun' when she was a wliole heap too little 
 to know nottin', I'd like to know who did?" Nervey 
 paused for contradiction, but no one offered any. "When 
 dat chile went wid Massa Matthew Temple, to her gran'- 
 ther, me, an' Peter an' Pompey we went too. Ef her 
 granmudder, a mos' mighty good woman, what hadn't no 
 'sperience in bringin' upchilun', gib my chile Miss Abbey 
 too long a lot ob sewin', or knittin', or spinnin' to does, 
 why who but Nervey did de biggest half ob it, quiet 
 like? Ef de ole lady would a bin vexed wid her for 
 tearin' of her gowns, climbin' an' rompin' roan', why, who 
 but Nervey mended em all up, afore dey was seen? 
 When dat dere ole good lady see it her duty to hev de 
 dishes put away when de chile was too late for dinner, 
 den Nervey see it her duty to a growin' chile to keep a 
 plenty hot an' nice for her, an' dat young boy what's gone 
 married to Miss Hester, /see to warmin' her bed of cole 
 nights. I see to gibbin' her plenty of cake, an' when 
 she was lef all alone in dis here ebil worl, an' come here 
 in de war time, me an' Peter an' Pompey we cum too ; 
 an' I looked arter her, an' when I sees an ebil-minded 
 soger rolling eyes at her, I said, no such doin's roun' your 
 granmudder's girl, an' I drove dat soger oif." 
 
 At this picture of my long-ago meeting with Deborah 
 
546 PA "^'RIO T AND TOR Y : 
 
 Samson, I shrieked with laughter. Nervey, unabashed, 
 continued : 
 
 " When dat chile went to New York in war time, 
 'mong murderin', wicked rapscallions, Nervey was de one 
 to go and see to her and bring her home safe. When Mr. 
 Reid tole me he Avas agoin' to ask my young Missey to 
 hab him, /said I w'as 'greeable, an' would go eny time; 
 an' now, now de chile really tinks she kin keep her house 
 her owaise'f, an' do n't need me. Hoh ! she may leave 
 Mr. Reid here ef she likes, or she kin stay here her 
 ownse'f, ef she pleases, but me an' Peter an' Pompey, 
 we 's goin' wid her to de worl's en', or to Plymouth, what 
 is jes de same, so we is." 
 
 And all that harangue is the reason why Nervey is now 
 supreme in this kitchen, and Pompey is busy in the gar- 
 den, and Peter is working in the barn, just as they all 
 were ten years ago. These three came up here in April 
 to get the place in order, and Hester came down then 
 from Boston to superintend; and thus it was, w^hen our 
 party came vip here from Philadelphia, all things were in 
 a beautiful readiness for our reception.. Our company was 
 a large one : Susannah and her husband. Uncle John, 
 Judith, and Bessie, and Charles and Annie ; and here we 
 found Thomas and Hester, and Dame Mercy, and Mr. 
 James Warren. 
 
 We were stopped at Isaiah Hoo})er's to rest and dress 
 for company, because, as they told us, there was a great 
 assembly at our home to welcome us. So, sure enough, 
 when we had })ut on gala array and had come here, we 
 found nearly the whole people in tlieir best, and Dame 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 547 
 
 Warren's taste had prevailed to have much trimming of 
 flowers, and the tables were spread out of doors, and even 
 the little children were here with their welcomes and their 
 flowers, and Dame Mercy had written a poem, which 
 Thomas read after the feast. 
 
 And when we had had many good wishes, and much 
 cheerful talk and singing, and all had seen the house, 
 arrayed newly under Hester's care, it was time for the 
 company to disperse; and first they called on their pas- 
 tor, Richard, my husband, for some words at parting. 
 Now the day was the 1st of June, the tenth anniversary 
 of the closing of Boston port by the famous Port Bill. 
 Richard in a few words sketched the events of the last 
 ten years, of war and peace. He spoke of grandfather 
 and great-grandfather, and what their views had been, 
 and he exhorted the people to banish all hostility now 
 to the mother-country, to let the peace be a heart peace, 
 and to show their gratitude to God, by making honest 
 and noble use of their independence. He then called for 
 the Bible, and after a prayer, he dismissed the people by 
 reading these verses as a benediction on our country — 
 and may God fulfill the word unto us : 
 
 ^'And I the Lord will be their God, and my servant 
 Duvid a prince among them : I the Lord have spoken it. 
 And I will make with them a covenant of peace, and 
 will cause the evil beasts to cease out of the land; and 
 they shall dwell in the wilderness, and sleep in the woods. 
 And I will make them, and the places round about my 
 hill, a blessing; and I will cause the shower to come 
 down in his season : there shall be showers of blessing. 
 
548 
 
 PATRIOT AXD TORY: 
 
 "And the tree of the field shall yield her fruit, and 
 the earth shall yield her increase, and they shall be safe 
 in their land; and they shall know that I am the Lord, 
 when I have broken the bands of their yoke, and deliv- 
 ered them out of the hand of those that served themselves 
 of them. 
 
 "And I will raise up for them a plant of renown ; and 
 they shall no more be consumed with hunger in the land, 
 neither bear the shame of the heathen any more. 
 
 " Thus shall they know that I the Lord am with them, 
 and that they, even the house of Israel, are my people, 
 saith the Lord God. 
 
 "And ye my flock, even the flock of my pasture, are 
 men ; and I am your God, saith the Lord God." 
 
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