Title Page
 Russel and Sidney
 Chase Loring
 The revolutionary officer

Title: young revolutionists, or, Russel and Sidney ; and Chase Loring
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Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00061194/00001
 Material Information
Title: young revolutionists, or, Russel and Sidney ; and Chase Loring
Series Title: young revolutionists, or, Russel and Sidney ; and Chase Loring
Physical Description: Book
Creator: Leslie, Eliza,
Publisher: Willis P. Hazard
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Bibliographic ID: UF00061194
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
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alephbibnum - 002232938

Table of Contents
        Page 2
    Title Page
        Page 3
        Page 4
    Russel and Sidney
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
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        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
    Chase Loring
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
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    The revolutionary officer
        Page 186
        Page 187
Full Text








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To Umeat onqur AmriL"-4hsntm.
SiDnrr CAMION was the eldest daughter of a
substantial and highly respectable farmer whose
land lay on the borders of Delaware and Mary-
land, and who, being a magistrate, was, accord-
ing to custom, honoured with the title of Squire
She was a beautiful and intelligent girl, and at
the period of our story, had just completed her
eighteenth year. After the misfortune of losing
her mother, she had for the last two years, pre-
sided over the house-keeping; directing the do-
metic affairs of the family, with a steadiness,
skill, and excellence of management, that would
have done honour to a female of twice her age.
And it was with the conviction of her perfect ea-
pability of superintending the household in his
absence, that her father, who was deeply imbued
with the patriotic spirit of the times, had raised
a company of volunteer in the neighbourhood,


and had gone off at their head to join the north-
ern continental army. He left at home with
Sidney and her little sister, his son Russel, a
lively impetuous boy of sixteen, and Tommy
Tring, an old lame tailor who worked for all the
neighboring families, but was generally an in-
mate of Mr. Campion's establishment, which
was known by the name of Sycamore Hill.
Innumerable were the instances during the
war of the American Revolution, of farmers,
tradesmen, and mechanics abandoning the care
of their business and property, to engage person-
ally in the glorious struggle: fearing no lose but
the loss of liberty, anticipating no gain but event-
ual independence: and saying, in the words of
the noble manifesto issued by the colonies on
first resorting to arms, We have counted the
cost, and find nothing so dreadful as voluntary
The spirit of these disinterested and patriotic
fathers had infused itself deeply into the minds
and feelings of their sons; and many were the
juvenile hearts that panted for the time, when
they too might be allowed to assist in repelling
the enemy that was arrayed against the rights of
their native land. And even the retiring timidity
that characterises the female youth of America,
was at this time tinctured with an enthusi-
asm corresponding to that of their fathers and
Premising that our story is of rural life and
rural manners, the dispositions of Russel and


Sidney Campion will perhaps be best illustrated
by the following sketch of a dialogue, which took
place one morning while Sidney was washing
the breakfast-cups, and Russel sitting at the
window, deeply engaged in some writing that
seemed to absorb his whole attention.
Sidney. Russel, it is quite time you were at
school Your dinner-basket has been ready this
half hour. Will you never have done that wri-
ting which has been engaging you since day-
light, so that you have scarcely take time to
eat your breakfast
R sel. There, I have finished it. But I
am not going to school to-day. So I'll set about
cleaning the duck-gun.
Sidney. You are not going to school I Oh
Russel, you take advantage of father's absence.
You would not say so if he were at home.
Russel. Yes I would; and he would con-
sider me right in saying so.
Sidaey. Impossible!
Ruie. 1 know my father too well to sup-
pose that he would compel me to go to school
after the master has come out a tory, as Peter
Puckeridge has. We suspected him last winter,
when he had a singing-school of evenings. Don't
you remember the lines of his own making, th:;
he one night gave out for us to sing:
When kings ase seated on their thrones
The people down should fall,
And humbly kiss the royal hands
The fingers, thumbs, and all.


You know we all refused to sing the vile stuff;
and we frightened him so that he offered all morts
of eceuses, and talked of the difficulty of making
verses, and that poets were often obliged to bring
in any thing at all for the sake of a rhyme. And
then, I determined never to be a poet.
Bidney. I remember that night very well.
Russel. As he pretended to be penitent, we
paused over this offence; but we have kept an
eye on him ever since; and now he has come
out an open tory. The truth is, none but a tory
would stay here and idle about at school-keeping
at such a time as this, when every man and boy
throughout America should have a gun on his
shoulder, or a sword in his hand.
Sidney. Well, the six last school-masters did
go and join the army, one after another.
Ruuse Peter Puckeridge has no need of
keeping school. Let him help his father to take
care of the farm.
Sidney. Still, it is better to have even Peter
Puckeridge, than to be obliged, for want of other
school-masters, to take up with Scotch and Irish
convicts; men who were transported from the
old country for stealing. I have heard my father
say that when he was a boy it was difficult in
this part of the province to procure any others,
as our own people all thought they could do some-
thing better than keep school. And what was
strange, these convict-schoolmasters were never
known, while with us, to be guilty of a single act


of dishonesty; whatever they might have done
in Europe.
RusseL Why should they, when they found
no difficulty here in getting clothes to wear, and
victuals to eat t And now I think on it, the
English had a great deal of impudence to send
over ship-loads of their own thieves, and empty
them out upon us. That should have been men-
tioned among the causes for going to war with
them. However, as to Peter, I can tell him his
reign is near to a close. And there is his mother,
Polly Puckeridge; why does she come here,
peeping and prying about, almost every day since
my father has been gone; pretending, as he
does, to give you advice about your house-
keeping ?
Sidnsy. Well, that is very kind of her. She
knows that I am young and inexperienced.
Russel. You are young, but not inexperi-
enced: for you were well brought up, and taught
every thing betimes. I desire no better manage.
ment than yours. The house is clean; and we
have plenty of pies and puddings. But the other
day when you took Polly into the orchard to get
yellow peaches, and I was up one of the trees, I
heard how she was talking to you; and it was
I that made a great ripe juicy peach fll plump
on her head, and mash itself on her clean eap.
Sidney. I thought so.
Ru seL Then why did she say it was wrong


for my father to raise a company of volunteers
for the northern army; and that he had better
have stayed at home to take care of his family,
and to mind his business. I should like to know
how we are to drive off the British, if every
American is to stay at home and mind his busi-
ness. Is Washington at home taking care of
his family?
Sidney. Still, Russel, you know it was a sor-
rowful day when my father went off at the head
of his company. You know how we all cried;
even yourself.
Russl. I cried partly for my father, and
partly because he would not let me go along.
But was not it a glorious sight t Such a troop
of fine well-looking men, with hunting-shirts of
brown homespun trimmed with red fringe. I
gathered all the walnuts to make the brown dye
for the cloth.
Sidney. And I made all the fringe.
Rusel. How well they looked in their leather
caps, with the buck-tails in them!
Sidney. Well, I have been at quilting and
at cardings, but I never had half so much plea-
sure as at the sewin-frolic, when all the women
and girls in the neighbourhood met at our house
to make the uniform for my father's company.
Russel. You are a brave girl. And yet you
sat half the time with tears in your eyes.
Sidney. That was when the thoughts of my
father's danger came across my mind, and the
fear that he might be killed in battle. But still


it seemed noble work, to be making uniforms for
our friends and neighbours who were going out
to fight for their country. I felt my hear bet-
ing fast, and my cheeks glowing the whole time.
Rusl. If a girl's heart can beat and her
cheeks glow on such an occasion, how do you
think boymustfeel But gavethe last pol-
ish to my father's pistols, and to the hilt of his
sword. And after all the pains Itook with them,
I did hope that he would, at last, have let me
go along with him. But I never knew my fa-
ther so hard to persuade. He was as immovea-
ble as a rock.
Sidney. Dear Russel, what could a boy like
you have done in battle
Rusel. Sidney, I wish you would never
again reproach me with being a boy. Cannot I
load and fire as well as any man t Do I ever
miss when I want to bring down a squirrel or a
raccoon; and did not I once shoot a panther
that I found among the fallen oaks after the great
hurricane I Have I ever missed a canvass-back
duck on the river t And is not a British soldier
a much bigger and easier mark t
Sidney. But suppose the British soldier should
shoot you?
Rusel. Then I should die gloriously in the
service of my country. All I wanted was that
my father would allow me to run with his com-
pany, and take my chance.
Sidney. Oh, Russel, it makes me tremble to
hear you talk so!


RussL Why did my father cal me Rasel,
(after the great English lord whom we mad of
in the History of England, that my grandfather
brought over with him) if I am to dispace my
name, and not be allowed to oppose a king now
that I have an opportunity. And there, you are
called Sidney-Sidney is a great name; good
for either boy or girl. You ought not to fear
death, either for yourself or for any one else.
Do you not remember the famous Algernon Sid-
ney 1 and that when he was brought to the block,
and the executioner asked him if he wished to
raise his head again before the blow was struck,
he answered, Not till the resurrection."
Sidney. Yes, I remember well that noble and
awful answer.
RustL Real, true courage! Can you ever
expect to equal that
Sidney. Being only a girl, it is not likely
that I shall ever have my head cut off on the
Russel You know not what the British may
do, if we allow them to conquer us.
Sidney. Do not represent them as worse than
they really are.
Rusel. To be sure that is unnecessary. But
do not we read in the English history of their
condemning women to lose their heads t
Sidney. Oh! those were queens and princess-
es, and ladies of rank, and not daughters of ob-
scure American farmers.
RuseL My father is not so obscure neither ;


and the time is coming whi' dthe obscue Amer-
ican farmers will make king George bsake upon
his throne. And when the war is over, how ean
I presume to show my face if I have not taken
a part in it
Sidney. I am afraid the war will st be over
before you are old enough to have your wishes
fulfilled. You know my father has promised
that you should join the continental army, in
some way or other, at the end of two year, if we
do not have peace before that time.
Rusel. And what am I to do with myse
all those two years You know I am tall, and
stout, and strong for my age. I dare y I have
done growing. I know two boys who never
grew an inch after they were sixteen. And I
can throw Bill Garnett any minute when we are
wrestling together; though he is eighteen, and
near six feet high. Strength does not depend on
height; and I am sure courage does not. But
here comes Polly Puckeridge, riding up the lane.
I suppose she will stop here, as usual, on her
way from the store. I will be oft I can't stay
and hear her talk toryism.
Sidney. Won't you go and help her of her
horse 1
Russe. There is a very good horse-blok by
the front gate, and I'll give no help in any way
to the enemies of my country. If they fll, so
much the better. Black Cmar may go and take
her down, and attend to her hore.


Sidney. But really, are you not going to
school to-day 1
RuseL No; I'm on a committee.
Sidney. A committee, for what 1
Rusel. You'll know soon enough. But here
is Polly Puckeridge.
Russel having finished cleaning the duck-gun,
deposited it in the corner, and went off immedi-
ately to a certain log-bridge, thrown over a brook
that crossed a piece of woods between his father's
dwelling and the school-house. At this bridge
he had appointed a rendezvous with two other
boys; and he found them waiting for him, heated
on the log, and eating wild grapes, which they
plucked from a vine that hung over the water.
These boys and Russel constituted a commit-
tee, that had been appointed by their comrades
to draw up a protest against Peter Pukeridge,
by means of which the whole school was to be
emancipated from his dominion. Of this plan
they did not doubt the success; having, as they
supposed, completely convicted Peter of toryism,
and consequently believing themselves secure of
the sanction, or at least the connivance of their
parents. In truth, however, the fathers were
most of them away with the army; and the cares
and anxieties that consequently devolved on the
mothers, caused a slackening in the reins of pa-
rental authority, of which the boys were not slow
in taking advantage. To be brief, it was, with
regard to the younger part of the community, a
season of mis-rule, or rather of no rule at all.


Upon this occasion, each member of the com-
mittee had drawn up a catalogue of grievances,
accompanied with resolutions to be aggrieved no
longer. These mimic declarations of idepen-
denoe were all compared as they at on de log;
and the two other boys acknowledged the mupe-
riority of Rssel Campion's composition, with as
good a grace as, on a far more momentous occa.
sion, Franklin and Adams had yielded the palm
to Jefferson, the author of the most important
state paper that history has recorded.
This done, they proceeded to the school-house.
It was now noon, and the master had gone home
to his dinner. The boy, in anxious expecta-
tion of the committee, were sitting about the
shady green in front of the school-house; some
on stumps of trees, some on blocks of stone, and
some on the fence; and nearly all were without
their coats. The girls were mostly at play; or
putting up, in their little baskets, the remains of
their dinner, for what they called the afternoon
piece." At sight of Russel and his coadjutors,
their school-mates all jumped up orjumped down
from their respective stations, and gathered round
them exclaiming, Here's the committee-the
committee has come!" But Russel, with a dig-
nified wave of the hand, and a voice of equal
dignity, remanded them to their stations, and de-
sired silence while he read to them tAeir Declar-
ation of Independence. Then throwing aside
his hat, and springing upon the broad stump of
a felled oak, he began as follows:-


When in the course of human events it be
comes necessary for the boys of a school to break
through the bands that have connected them with
the teacher (falsely, meanly, and improperly call-
ed their master) a decent respect for the opinions
of the girls requires them to declare the causes
that compel them to a separation.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident: that
we are in every point of view equal to the man
denominated Peter Puckeridge. We can run
as fast, we can ride as well: we can shoot much
better; and we are no way below him in fishing
and trapping. And if any of us are his inferiors
in reading, writing and cyphering, (and even this
is doubtful) it is only the natural consequence of
our youth and inexperience. In all essntil
qualifications we acknowledge no inferiority
But our causes of complaint are of more se-
rious moment: and after enduring a long train
of abuses and vexations, it is our choice, it is our
wish, to throw off his government, and declare
ourselves independent.
To prove this, let the following facts be sub-
mitted to our candid fellow-sufferers.
He has refused to allow the eating of apples
in school; even of the sorts least noisy, and best
calculated to be managed without paring.
He has refused to permit the windows to be
raised in the dog-days; and he has limited our
water-drinking to four tin-cups-full a day; the
said tin-cup holding but half a pint.

'UM f Me ohmm o ase k beu asemv hr do bs of. isoba"V &&


He has refiued to mend our pens even when
the points were split apart like the prongs of a
fork; and he has kept us in pot-hooks when we
ought to have been in joining-hand.
"He has interdicted us from reading alma-
nacs and other story-books, (even when our les-
sons were over) preferring that we should sit idle
on the benches; and when reduced to this sate
of idleness, he has barbarously forbidden us the
amusement of kicking our heels, or drumming
with our fingers. He has particularly waged
war against Robinson Crusoe: as if it were not
better to employ ourselves with that most useful
and entertaining of all books, than to sit listless
and yawning till school-hours are over.
He obliges us to learn, by heart, lessons of
unusual length and on useless subjects, (gram-
mar for instance) with the wicked and inhuman
purpose of making us waste our play-hours in
hard study: at the manifest risk of rendering our
faces pale, our legs thin, and destroying all our
natural smartness.
He has kept us standing long after we should
have been seated, listening to tedious explana-
tions of comets, and northern-lights, and milky-
ways, and other incomprehensible things, which
nobody in this world can possibly understand,
and least of all Peter Puckeridge.
He has called usin at times unusually early
and uncomfortable, obliging us to quit our unfin-
ished plays; and when we naturally refrained
from obeying the summons, he has taken from


us our kites, our marbles, our balls and our tops,
and has deposited them in the gloomy recesses
of his own desk: thereby subjecting us to the
necessity of picking the lock or cutting holes in
the bottom, as the only means of re-possessing
ourselves of our lawful property.
He is in the frequent practice of inflicting
corporal chastisement when we find it necessary
to stand opposed to him: with one exception-the
writer of this declaration-on whom, as is well-
known, he has never yet ventured to lay the
finger of violence.
He has plundered our hats: he has ravaged
our pockets: lie has burnt our play-things: he
has ruined our collars by shaking us with his
inky hands; excepting always the writer of this
But our most important and unanswerable
reason for rejecting his tyranny is, that we know
him to be possessed of high tory principles. We
know him to take a childish interest, unbecoming
to an American, in the comings and goings, the
eating and sleeping of the men called kings,
and the women denominated queens; while he
is at no pains whatever, to inform himself of the
proceedings of Congress. Also, he has been
heard to insist, most falsely and absurdly, that
the red-coats of the British regulars have a more
military look than the blue-coats of our own con-
tinental soldiers, and he has presumed to laugh
at the militia who have no coats at alL Also,
he has dared most treasonably to sneer at the


calico gown worn by the brave Colonel Presott
at the battle of Bunker Hill
Nor have we been wanting in indications of
our dissatisfaction. We have tilted his desk by
sawing off two inches from one of the legs; we
have slipped hli handkerchief from his pocket,
and wiped up ink with it; we have cut sticks
with his best pen-knife, and put chinkapin burr
into his hat; and we are taken with unanimous
coughs whenever he begins to talk to us. But
as no warning has had any effect on him, and as
he has not had the grace to retire from oice as
soon as he knew himself to be unpopular, we
therefore absolve ourselves from all allegiance to
him and his authority. We throw him off as
we would an old coat, and we declare ourselves
free and independent of Peter Puckeridge; and
that we will never more allow ourselves to be
subjected by the frown of his brow, the sharpmes
of his voice, or the slaps of his ferule. And for
the support ofthis declaration we mutually pledge
to each other the heads that can plan, the hearts
that can dare, and the hands that can execute."

This parody, as Russel read it, half in earnest
and half in jest, was loudly applauded by the
other boys: and even the girls joined their shrill
voices to the huzzas that responded to the con-
cluding sentence, which, as it had a tinge of
something that sounded like sentiment, they with
one accord pronounced beautifuL"
And now," said Russel, I will lay the de.


claration on Peter Puckeridge's desk: he will
soon come back from his dinner, and we will
wait the consequence. I move, however, that
the girls should withdraw into the woods, as on
such occasions females are best out of the

The girls, whose curiosity predominated over
their fears, showed some reluctance to quit the
field, and retired no farther than the edge of the
woods; where they lingered, looking out from
behind the trees.
Peter Puckeridge came: and as he passed,
he ordered his pupils into school; which order
they received with a half-suppressed laugh, to
which latterly Peter had become quite accus-
tomed. He entered the house, thinking that they
would probably follow him. Not one did so:
the girls made an attempt to emerge from the
woods, but the boys ran and held them back.
Peter took up the declaration and began to
read it, showing unequivocal signs of anger as
he proceeded; biting his lip, clenching his fist
and stamping his foot. The boys assembled
round the door, and looked in at him. Before
Peter had gotten half-way to the end, he tore the
document to pieces, and trampled it on the floor.
Upon which, Russel immediately produced from
his pocket another copy, which he had provided
in anticipation of this contingency.
What might have been the result is problem-
atical. But at that moment, two men came gal-
loping along the road, and calling out, "News,


news !" "What news" exclaimed, at once,
the school-master and boys.
The British have landed at Turkey Point,
more than ten thousand strong," replied one of
the men. And Cornwallis has threatened to
carry fire and sword through the country," add-
ed the other. Run home, boys, and tell your
Both boys and girls all took the men at their
word, and scampered homewards; leaving the
school-master in quiet possession of the field.
And he proceeded to shut up the school-house,
perceiving that now indeed "his occupation was

Mrs. Puckeridge, who had dined with Sidney,
was seated at her knitting, and her young host-
ess was quietly engaged with some sewing, when
Russel came running in, followed by his little
sister Patty, and excaiming, Sidney, Sidney,
the British have landed at Turkey Point. Two
men have just now galloped past with the news.
Where's the duck-gun 1 You can't, now, ex-
pect me to stay another moment. 'Tis lucky
I've cast so many bullets lately, though you were
angry at my cutting off the old clock-weights to
get the lead. Run, Patty, and bring my pow-
Patty. Oh, Russel, Russel-
Sidney. Surely, Russel, you will not go off
and leave the family unprotected?
RuseL Why, how can a boy like me protect


a whole family 1 at least in no other way than
in,going to meet the British, and trying to keep
them away."
Mrs. Puckeridge. Can't you stay and use
fair words to them, when they come to the house?
Can't you smooth off every thing, and tell them
that your father is only gone on a journey to
look after some back-lands ?
Russel. I smooth off every thing to the Brit-
ish, and tell them lies about my father, when I
know he has gone on no other errand than to
help drive them back to their own country? No,
no, you'll never catch me doing that.
Mrs. Puckeridge. Upon my word, Sidney,
I think you had better let this headstrong boy
take his course, and go. He will do more harm
than good, if he stays at home.
Rusel. Dear Polly Puckeridge, that is the
most sensible thing I ever heard you say. Yes,
I shall certainly do more harm than good, if I
stay at home. It will not be at all safe to keep
me here.
Mrs. Puckeridge. Here comes Tommy Tring.
He thinks himself three inches taller since he
learnt your volunteers how to do their exercise.
To think that men of standing and substance
should come to such a pass as to be drilled by
little Tommy Tring, with his proverbs, and all
his other foolishness. And to see them, before
they o a drum and fife, marching about to the
whistling of black Cesar.
Ruuel, (fllUig his powder-korn.) Well,


Tommy Tring, simpleton as he is, was a sol-
dier,and fought in Canada under General Wolfe.
The volunteers showed their sense: for it was
better to be taught even by Tommy Tring, than
not to learn at all.
Tommy Tring, (as Ae meters the room.)
What's the difficulty Here seems to be a
considerable of a nonplush among you.
Mrs. Puckeridge. Difficulty enough. Han't
the British landed t
Sidney. Oh, Tommy I am glad you have
come to advise us what to do.
Tommy. First I'll take a chair, for it's a
cheap setting as standing. But has nobody else
been advising for too many cooks spile the
Sidney. No; tell us yourself what we had
best do.
Tommy. Now my advice is, to pack up your
alls, and flit without loes of time. Do it at once,
right of the reel, for a stitch in time saves nine;
and I know very well what British soldiers are;
having been along with them myself, when I
was helping General Wolfe in Canady.
Sidney. To what place shall we goI
Tommy. Why, to your uncle Josiah Parkins,
where you are always expected to pay a visit
every fal. So the sooner you start, the better,
for it's not in natur that you stay here. Use
legs and have legs.
Rusel. Tommy, won't you attend to the


moving of the family, and see them safe to Uncle
Tommy. I'll do what I can to the best of my
ability ; and you can have no more of a cat than
its skin.
Patty. Sidney, Sidney, catch Russel and
stop him. He's going to run off and join the
army this minute.
Tommy. Now, Russel, stay till you know
where the British are to be found, and listen to
me while I direct you. Good counsel breaks
no man's head, and an ounce of wisdom's worth
a pound of wit. It's pretty true that we should
all up and be doing. The first thing is to sa-
tion the scouts. Russel, you'll do very well for
a scout. It's a good enough business for boys.
We can't expect old heads on young shoulders.
RumeL Is a scout any thing dishonourable 1
I don't like the name.
Tommy. Nonsense. You'll be none the
worse. You, and the other boys, saddle your
creturs; for you'd better not ride bare-back.
The more haste the worse speed. Geer up, I
say, and post yourselves about the hills in view
of the water, and watch the movements of the
British, and see which way they're like to come;
and then gallop back and give notice.
RuueL Oh, you mean that we are to be
videttes. The look-out men are called videttes.
Tommy. I always call them scouts. There's
never no use in talking Latin. I don't mind a
French word now and then, for I picked up ser-


eral in Canady, in the old war when I was help-
ing General Wolfe. I never saw a better fitting
coat than the one he was killed in.
Rusel. I like this service very well, till some-
thing better offers. So I'll be a vidette. And
now, Tommy, put the girls in a way of setting
off, and take good care of them.
He kissed his sisters, and then ran out of the
house; leaving Sidney and Patty in tears. But
in a moment, Patty recollected (what he himself
had forgotten) that Russel had had no dinner,
and she followed him to the gate with a clean
handkerchief filled with eatables, which she pre-
vailed on him to put in his pocket And Sidney
insisted on his coming back to the house, and
supplying himself with some money. He then
gave each of the girls another kiss, and mount-
ing his horse which he had been saddling at the
gate, he cantered off in high spirits. When Sid-
ney returned to the house, she found Tommy
soliloquizing. "Ah !" said he, "is it come to
this! Tommy Tring fit for nothing but to take
care of women and children, after having climb-
ed up the Heights of Abraham. I remember as
well as yesterday the coat I had on at the battle
of Quebec. It was a little too short in the
sleeves, and the back did not fit quite smooth,
the arm-holes being rather puckery round the
sleeve-tops; for as they happened to be cut too
big, they had to Be held full in sewing them in."
Mrs. Puckeridge. I've been pondering all
this time; and I've made up my mind that I


won't fly the country. Husband always does as
I bid him; and if I say no, he is not the man to
say yes. So, as for packing up and moving off,
it's a trouble I shan't put myself to, no how. If
my new crimson lutestring gown is folded up
and crammed into a trunk, it will never look well
again, but have all sorts of creases and wrinkles;
so I'm not going to risk it for any fears about
the British.
Tommy. I suppose you think there's great
cry and little wool. But you are mistaken. The
danger's rale; and an ounce of pervention's
worth a pound of cure.
Mrs. Puckeridge. Rale or not, I shall stick
to my own house. And if the British come, I'll
just up and tell them that I'm all on their side,
and always shall be, and so is husband, and
Peter. And I'll give them smiles and curchies,
and the best that I have to eat and to drink;
and they'll not be the men to hurt a hair of my
head. And, if I see occasion, I'll tell them
I don't care for Washington, nor his young
Frenchman neither.
Tommy, (putting his hand on her mouth.)
Stop that. It's treason you're talking, and how
can you hope to prosper. Treason againstt Wash-
ington and the Marquis La Fayette.
Mrs. Puckeridge. Sidney, good-bye to you.
I'll not stay here to be insulted by Tommy
Tring. I suppose Cesar can-get my horse for
Sidney now attempted to pacify her, and iu


duced Tommy to make a sort of apology, which
he did, by saying, Well, well, Polly Pucker-
idge, forget and forgive. Many men many
minds. We're for Cogress, and you're for
King George. What's one man's meat's an-
other man's pison."
When Tommy had helped Mrs. Puckeridge
to her horse, aud Sidney had sen her off, he
said, after a few minutes consideration, "Sidney,
it's an ill wind that blows nobody no good. As
the Puckeridges intend to be tries out and out,
and as we have coaxed Polly into some sort of
good humour, we had better make hay while the
su shines."
In what way 1" asked Sidey.
Why," replied Tommy, "if we offer her
something worth while, (for you know Polly is
just like people of the old country, and never
does nothing for nothing) I don't doubt but we
can get her to take charge of all our negen; and
if her friends the British isould come, the sips
would be safer with her than with us. Besides,
we can't cumberr ourselves with them when we
flit; and if we did, there mayn't be no conveni-
ent way for them at Uncle Josiah's; though he
is a kind, open-hearted man. We shouldn't ride
a free horse till we break him down."
An excellent plan," said Sidney, at least
I can think of nothing better."
If Russel were here," said little Patty, "he
would not approve of sending whig negroes to a
tory house."


Pho," answered Tommy, Necessity has
no law, and there's no knowing what a man may
come to. Dainty dogs may eat dirty puddings.
Sidney, I think I might as well ride over at once,
and break the matter to Polly Puckeridge."
No," replied Sidney, I'll take that office
upon myself I am sorry it was not thought of
while she was here."
Sidney was successful in her mission; Mrs.
Puckeridge consenting, for a suitable considera-
tion, to receive the negroes. By the time Sidney
got home, the day was too far advanced for the
family to complete their preparations and depart
that night; though Tommy Tring had by no
means been idle. Next morning, came a boy (one
of Russel's fellow-videttei) with an account that
the enemy had got as far as Iron Hill, and that
Russel sent his love to his sisters, and could not
tell when he should see them again; but that as
soon as the British were beaten, he would join
them at his Uncle Parkins's.
This announcement was the cause of grat
alarm and affliction to Sidney; and little Patty
cried bitterly. But Tommy Tring urging the
necessity of immediate exertion, Sidney was
obliged to devote her attention to the prepara-
tions for their departure; and as the day ad-
vanced, the reports of the near approach of the
British army were more and more frequent. All
the furniture that could be removed was carried
into the upper story, and locked up in one of the
garrets; and after she had sent off all the ne-


groes to Polly Puckeridge's, Tommy took up
some of the boards from the barn-floor, and dug
a hole, to which Sidney and Patty conveyed the
silver and some other valuable article. After
all these things were buried, Tommy careAdly
replaced the boards, saying, "Fast bind, safe
By this time it was almost evening; and the
accounts from the neighbours and from passen-
gers on the road, of the progress of the enemy,
were fast multiplying. There was a large heavy
carriage belonging to the family; but Tommy
Trying opined, that if they rode in that it would
only be in their way," and that as the night was
fast approaching, and the road to Uncle Josiah's
none of the best, they would find it more advisa-
ble to trust to the fleetness of two excellent steeds,
and perform the ride on hose-back. "When
we get into the woods," said he, if we should
hear the whole British army coming after us,
there is no such thing as galloping a carnage; at
least not for any length of time. And, if we've
good luck on horse-back, we shall get to Uncle
Josiah's by bed-time."
Sidney had nothing to object; and two horses
were now accoutred by Tommy Tring. His
saddle-bags were filled with articles of clothing
belonging to the sisters, his own wardrobe being
tied up in a large handkerchief; and on the
pommel of Sidney's saddle hung a small straw
basket containing some of her muslins Sidney,
according to the fashion of the times in that part


of the country, was equipped in a striped linen
riding-skirt, (a sort of long wide outside petticoat,
which prevented her chintz gown from injury
while riding) and a narrow black silk cloak, short
behind and long before, something in the form of
a scarf, with a hood attached to it, which she
drew over her little straw bonnet. On a pillion
behind her, sat Patty, carefully guarded from
the night-air by a double calico wrapper, which
she called her button-coat, from the manner in
which it was fastened in front, and a silk hand-
kerchief was tied down over herbonnet. She
carried on her arm her school-satchel filled with
gingerbread; among which was carefully wedg-
ed a little bottle of milk; Patty, when she trav-
elled, having always a great dread of starving on
the road.
The sun had set before they started; the
shades of evening were fast closing round them,
and Sidney's eyes filled with tears as she turned
from the house of her father, to seek a refuge
from the relentless invaders of their country.
The thunder of war had hitherto been rolling at
a distance; but now the cloud hung almost di-
rectly over their heads.
Night soon came on, and most of the way lay
through a thick forest. They proceeded some
time in silence, broken only by the cry of a whip-
poor-will on a tree above them, or the rustling of
a mink as it stole across the path. Tommy
Tring, after humming awhile to himself, broke
out at last into an old song; the second line of

which made little Patty cling closer to her sister

""Where are you going my little boy?"
Said the dark dark night on the read
"Oh! I'm going to school," mid the child,
"I'm but seven years old."
"What have you in yonder basket ?"
Said the dark dark night on the road:
"Some victuals and some drink," sid the child,
"I'm bun ven years old."

The song was here interrupted by the long,
loud, and thrilling screech of an owl from the
hollow of a blasted oak, whose dark branches
waved over their heads in the night-wind. Tom-
my stopped, Sidney started, and Patty scream-
ed; but recovering herself in a moment, she
said, "I know it's only an owl-I know that
nobody ought to mind an owl, even when they
do scream just like people. But I thought for a
moment that somebody was getting killed by the
British-and it seemed to sound like Cornwallis
killing RusseL I think, Tommy, I had rather
hear a story now, than any more of that song.
And come round on this side, so that I can see
where your face is, and ride along quite close."
What story will you have," said Tommy,
"Blue-Beard, or Red Riding-Hood 1"

This song, of which there were many verses, was well
kuown among the country people of the last century.


SI believe," answered Patty, I'd better not
hear about cutting off wives' heads, and about
wolves eating children-at least, not to-night.
So tell me Little Mary; I have not heard that
story for three or four weeks."
Once upon a time," began Tommy, there
was an old woman that lived in the country, and
she had three daughters: the youngest was the
best, and her name was Little Marys"
Why, in all stories, is the youngest daughter
the best said Patty. "Sidney, you are the
eldest of our family, and I am lure your are the
best of us all. Hold out our hand to me, and
let me kiss it, dear sister.'
Tommy. Yes, but stories are stories. As you
say, in all stories the youngest is the best. Well,
where was IT O!-the family got so poor, that
they thought they could not live together no
longer; and then one of the oldest gals said,
" Mother, bake us a big cake and a little cake,
and we'll go and seek our fortune: but don't let
Mary come."-So the mother went and baked
them a big cake and a little cake, and they set
off to seek their fortune. To keep her from fol-
lowing them, the mother locked up Mary in the
back-garret, but Mary took out her scissors and
cut off the bed-cord. Then she fixed the bed-
cord to the window and made a swing of it, and
swung down to the ground.
The story of Little Mary was frequently related to the
author in her childhood. She ba never see itin print, and
does not know its oriin.


Patty. I've often wondered how she could
do that.
Tommy. No matter-it's only a story. Then
Mary ran after the sisters: and when they look-
ed back and saw her coming, they went and
seized hold of her, and chuck'd her down hard
upon the ground.
Patty. You forget that they said, O, her
comes Mary.!"
Tommy. Well, then, they said, "0, hene
comes Mary !" And so they held her down on
the ground, and piled upon the top of her a great
heap of stones.
Patty. And yet she was not crushed.
Tommy. No-she wasn't crushed, for it's
only a story. Then her sisters went of, and bI
her. By-and-bye, there came along begg
man. 0, good beggar-man!" aid Mary, "if
you'll only take these stones off me, the very net
time you come past our house I'l ge you as
much good meal as your bag will hold."-Them
jie beggar-man took off all the stones; and a
soon as Mary was free, she jumped up and run
after her sisters. Then they looked back, and
the eldest gal said, O, here comes Mary !"
Well," said the next oldest, I don't are
much about it. Let her come along, and be
satisfied." So they stopped till she came up;
and then they went and took her along with
Patty. How glad I am-A'n't ye glad,


Tommy. So they walked on and walked on,
till night came upon them; and at last they saw
a light.
Patty. But you should have said first that
they lost their way. People in stories always
lose their way.
Tommy. Well, then-they lost their way.
After a long while they saw a light, and when
they went towards it, they saw a great big house.
So they knocked at the door, tap rap, tap rap,
and an old woman opened it. And then she
axed them in, and gave them their supper; and
then she went and took them up stairs, and put
them to-bed.
Patty. Tommy-Tommy! Are you going
to forget Gilmacullal
Tommy. Right.-They were waited on at
supper by a little bound gal, named Gilmaculla.
Well, the giant's wife took them up stairs, and
put them to-bed. Now there was a hole in the
foor. So after awhile, Mary got up, and went
and lay down on the floor, and put her eye close
to the hole, to peep, and see what she could see.
And then there was a loud knock at the door,
and presently a great big giant came in. So the
giant began to snuff his nose, and he said, in a
terrible voice, Fee faw fum, I smell fresh meat.
and I will have some."
Patty. Giants are always smelling fresh
Tommy. Then the giant's wife, she up and
told him that she had invited in three gals; but


she advised him to keep them till they were fat.
So the giant agreed to this, for he hated lean
meat. Then he told his wife to make him some
mush for supper. So she hung on a eat pot
of water as big as a barrel, and went and ot a
whole tub-full of'Indian meal. When Mary
saw this, she looked about for a keg of salt that
she had seen in a corner of the chamber. There
was a ladder that led up to a trap-door in the
roof; so Mary filled her apron with salt, and
went right up this ladder, and got out on the
roof. And then she looked down the chimbley,
and saw the giant's wife stirring the mush and
stirring the mush, and putting in great handfuls
of salt. And whenever the woman's back was
turned, Mary would throw another handful of
salt down the chimbley into the mush-pot. All
this made the mush so salt, that after the giant
had done eating it, he felt dryer than ever he
had been all his life before. So, to squinch his
thirst, he drunk up all the liquor in the house.
But the liquor only made him the dryer, and
then he drunk up all the water in the house.
Still his thirst was nothing like squinch'd; and
his wife proposed to send little Gilmaculla to the
spring to bring some more water, with the big
silver tankard.
When Gilmaculla went and looked out at the
door, she said, It rains and it snows, it hails
and it blows, and the night is as dark as the
grave."-" Then," said the giant, "you may
take my lantern of lightness; 'and be sure you


don't open no more than one of its twelve doors."
Now the lantern of lightness had a great big
rumberella fixed to the top.
As soon as Gilmaculla had took the lantern of
lightness, and the silver tankard, and gone off to
the spring, little Mary came climbing down from
the house-top, and run after her. Then Mary
seized upon the silver tankard, and the lantern of
lightness with the rumberella on the top, and
threw Gilmaculla head-foremost into the spring.
Patty. That always seemed to me a very
bad thing of Mary.
Tommy. Pho! it's only a story. Well, Ma-
ry know'd that the silver tankard would be a
great treasure to her and her sisters; but she
had great curiosity, as all female people have;
and so she went and opened all the twelve doors
of the lantern of lightness, which thereupon,
right away, gave out a great light all over the
world. And the light came shining in at the
giant's windows, and so he ran out to see about
it. He soon catched Mary, and found what she
had done. So he shot up the lantern, and he
seized hold of Mary by the hair of her head, and
Dragged her along home to his house. Then he
went and tied up Mary in a great coarse bag,
and told her, as soon as it was morning, he would
go into the woods and pull a great bunch of rods
with sharp thorns on them, and whip her till she
Patty. Poor little Mary! How she must
have dreaded morning.


Tommy. Then the giant went to-bed; but
he got up at day-light, and went off to the woods
to get the rods. As soon as he was clear out of
the house, Mary cut a hole in the bag with her
scissors, and put up her hand through the hole
and untied the string that fastened the top of the
Patty. It was well that Mary always had
her scissors with her.
Tommy. And then she went and woke up
her sisters; and then they all came and seized
hold of the giant's wife, and tied her hands be-
hind her back, and her two feet together; and
then they put her into the bag, and fastened it
up tight. After this business was settled, they
went and rummaged about, and got together all
the money, and all the jewels, and a great many
other fine things that they found in the house,
and they filled their pockets with them. Then
they went off home; and all this made them as
rich as Jews; so that from that day they hadn't
no need to go out no more to seek their fortune.
And then they all got married, and then they all
lived happy. That's the end of the story.
Patty. No, indeed, it is not.
Tommy. Yes it is. There's nothing else but
the two morals. The first is, that people never
know what's before them. Second Moral-As
it turned out, Mary's sisters needn't have been
so unwilling to let her go along with them, if
they'd only know'd all the good she was to bring
upon them. And there's another great lesson to


be learnt from this .here story, and that is, the
fruits of curiosity; for if Mary hadn't gone and
opened all the twelve doors of the lantern of
lightness, the giant wouldn't have cotched her.
Patty. No matter; I never care for morals.
But you certainly have not told the whole story.
You should have said, that when the giant came
home he thought Mary was still in the bag. So
he fell on with the rods, as hard as he could strike;
and had given his wife a good whipping before
she could make him understand who she was.
Tommy. True; that is the end of the story.
Patty. If I was not quite sure and certain
that nobody in the world ought on any account
to be whipped, (even if they are ever so bad) I
should say that the giant's wife was rightly served
for coaxing the girls into the house that her hus-
band might have them to eat. Now, Tommy,
tell me Jack and his Bean.
Tommy next recapitulated Jack and his Bean;
and afterwards several other stories of similar de-
scription; in all of which his little auditor was
able to prompt him ; though she listened with as
much attention to these oft-told tales, as if she
had never heard them before. This is generally
the case with children that are excessively fond
of stories; and what intelligent child has not
that fondness ?
About ten o'clock they stopped at the dwell-
ing of Josiah Parkins. The family were just
preparing to go to-bed, and were surprised at so
late an arrival. But on learning the cause, the


fugitives received a most cordial welcome; and
a repast of pie, pudding, cheese, and milk, was
immediately prepared for them. I should not
care," said Isaac Parkins, a boy of twelve years
old, "if the British were to land once a month,
provided it always brought us a visit from cousin
Sidney and little Patty."
Thee speaks without proper thought," re-
plied his mother, who was one of the most pre-
cise and literal of quaker-women. Though it
is very pleasant to see our cousins, the landing
of the British, once a month, would be rather
more than the country could bear."
Josiah Parkins had a fine firm, and a large
mill on a branch of the Brandywine creek, in the
care of which property he had at this time no
other assistant than his son Isaac; his hired
men having all left him to join the army, and his
principles preventing him from keeping slaves.
His two daughters had long been married, and
gone to live in a distant part of New Jersey;
and, since their departure, Mrs. Parkins kept
two hired girls instead of one.
Little Patty informed Sidney, when they went-
to-bed, that Isaac Parkins was quite as good a
whig as Russel, though he was a quaker-boy
and wore a broad-brimmed hat. Of his whig-
gery he had told her himself, in a conversation
they had held together, when sitting on the stairs
while supper was preparing. And, indeed, Jo.
siah and his wife, though they did not speak poe-


itively as to their whiggism, acknowledged that
"they had a draft that way."
Sidney's uneasiness respecting R el kept
her awake the greater part of the night. She
fell asleep toward day-break, and did not awaken
till eight o'clock; when, inquiring for Tommy
Tring, she heard that he had breakfasted about
sun-rue, and had then taken one of the horses
and gone off in search of Russel. The truth
is," said Mrs. Parking, "that Tommy Tring,
though only an old lame tailor, (if I may be al-
lowed to speak so of a fellow-creature) is like all
the rest of the men, and has a strange hankering
after fighting and bloodshed, and desires to be
among it whether he can do any thing or not."



-" Never d tis bow
stood I In ank a iprmms."- Je.

Moan than a week had elapsed in much anx-
iety; and still no tidings were heard of Rumel;
neither did Tommy Tring come back. The re-
ports of the progress of the British arm, under
Howe and Cornwallis, were various and contra-
dictory; but it was very certain that the conti-
nental troops, with Washington at their head,
were advancing to intercept the enemy on their
march to Philadelphia.
The two armies were at length so near each
other, that a battle seemed inevitable: and the
Parkins family had concluded to commence next
morning their preparations for retreating to a
greater distance from the probable scene of ac-
tion; lest they should be exposed to danger, in
case of the British proving victorious.
While things were in this state, though Mrs.
Parkins took care that all the household affairs


should go on as regularly as usual, it must be
confessed that her husband did little else but bor-
row and lend newspapers; and Isaac was con-
tinually 'slipping off and rambng about, in the
hope of obtaining glimpses of soldiers. When
at home, he spent much of his time in private
confabulation with little Patty; praising the con-
tinentals and disparaging the regulars; and
making profound comparisons between the Brit-
ish and American commanders. She taught
him a song that she had learnt from Russel;
though Isaac was obliged to go into the stable to
sing it, lest his parents should hear him, (every
thing like music being strictly interdicted m the
family) and he declared to Patty, that the sorrel
colt which his father had promised him, always
gave a loud neigh and showed evident tokens of
satisfaction whenever he begun the words-
" Come, all ye brave American, come quickly, come,
At the sounding of the trumpet, and the beating of the drum.
Come fight for General Washington and die at your guns."
And Patty secretly made Isaac a cockade,
which he was to wear when nobody saw him.
Late in the afternoon of the day preceding
that in which they were to commence active pre-
parations for their departure, the family were all
seated in the front-room. Josiah was reading
the last newspaper; his wife making up a clean
clear-starched cap; Sidney putting new wrist-
bands on one of Isaac's shirts, and Patty en-
gaged in the "never-ending still-beginning" task


of darning a pair of his stockings; having stretch-
ed one of "the big holes" over the inverted lid
of a tin canister, as the foot was too large to be
spread out by putting her little hand inside of it.
Suddenly they were startled by an unusual
noise, which attracted them all to the front door;
and they saw Isaac running down the road,
waving his hat, and shouting till completely out
of breath.
Why, Isaac, my son," exclaimed Mrs. Par-
kios, "what is it thee means I cannot say thy
behaviour is pleasing to me."
I'm glad that Friends do not see thee," said
Josiah. "They would think thee was not in the
right way."
No matter for my behaviour," cried Isac,
"this is no time to talk about tribes. He's
coming, he's coming I and he'll be here in less
than no time."
Who is coming," exclaimed Josiah, "Wil-
liam Howe, or Charles Cornwallis t"
"Neither, neither," answered Isaac, contempt.
uously, "but somebody greater than either of
them. George Washington-He himself-His
Excellency General Washington, Commander-
in-Chief of the American Army, and appointed
by Congress."
Use -not so many idle words," said his fa-
ther, "but tell us at once what thee means."
Isaac. Why, just now, as I was looking up
and down the road, two young oefers came gal.
loping up to me, and spoke to me in fll regi-


mental, and asked me who I was, and where I
lived, and how fir off to my father's house, and
if General Washington could be accommodated
there for the night. At first, I was so dashed
and astounded that I did not know whether I
stood on my head or my heels.
Mrs. Parkins. Thee did. Thee knew right
well that thee was not standing on thy head.
Thee never stood on thy head in thy life.
Isaac. Yes, I have often, when nobody saw
me; 1 like to try dostards. Well, then, I stood
stock still and stared; and then when I was sure
that it was all real, and not just a dream, I be-
gan to jump sky-high.
Mrs. Parking. Thee did not. Keep to the
truth always. Thy leaps might have been great,
but thee knows that they did not reach the sky.
Josiah, (impatiently.) But what else t
Isaac. Why, the officer smiled, and I told
them, as soon as I could speak, that myself, and
my father and mother, would be proud and hap-
py to have General Washington, and any of his
officers, and even the commonest soldier in his
army, to stay all night, or indeed forever.
Mrs. Parking. Thee said too much; we
should he pleased to have George Washington,
and a few of his best-behaved officers; but as
for his common soldiers, they are not desirable.
Isaac, thee seems of late to have lost thy discre-
tion. Thy words and actions are not such as
become Friends, and no stranger could suppose,
from thy behaviour, that thee belongs to Meeting.


Patty. Indeed, aunt Abigail, no boys are
discreet now. If you could only see Russel!
Sidney. I fear, indeed, that when Isaac vis-
ited us last spring, Russel gave him some lessons.
Mrs. Parkinu, (to Isaac.) When is George
Isaac. Now, right off. He may be close at
hand in a few minutes.
All. What, this evening t
Isaac. Yes, this very evening. So there's
no time to lose.
In an instant all the family disappeared from
the room, and commenced, with great rigour,
the work of preparation. Josiah immediately
fell to shaving, and then dressed himselfto receive
the general in what he called his bettermost Firt-
day suit, which was of light drab cloth with ap-
ple-tree buttons. Isaac, having also put on some
clean clothes, combed his hair sleek, and ran up
the hill to watch. One of the hired girls came
in to give the parlour an extra sweeping and
dusting; and little Patty returned from the gar-
den, dragging in an enormous quantity of seeded
asparagus, with its long feathery branches and
its scarlet berries, and placed it in the great blue
pitcher that stood on the hearth. Sidney volun-
teered to get ready the general's chamber; and
her aunt resorted to the kitchen, to superintend,
or rather to assist in, the preparations for supper,
remarking that, it was a long time since she
had occasion to do any gay cooking."
The best patchwork quilt, composed entirely


of bran new calico, tastefully arranged in the
most approved patterns, namely, the sturgeon's
back and the worm-fence, with an immense star
for a centre-piece, was spread over the bed in
which General Washington was to repose that
night. The bureau was adorned with a white
quilted cloth or cover, so thick and so well-stuff-
ed, that it was meant to answer the purpose of
a vast pincushion, in size more than a yard
square; and on it was placed a bottle of pepper-
mint, and a bottle of lavender compound ;" the
provincial toilettes of those days having not yet
got to Cologne water. Over the bureau, and
relieved by a long slip of wall-paper behind it,
was suspended a tall looking-glass in a narrow
mahogany frame, on one side of which hung a
comb-case of yellow paper bound with green rib-
bon, and on the other, a new calico iron-bolder,
also a nasturtian growing in water. The pea-
cock was luckily shedding his tail, and Patty
was able to pick up a new supply of feathers to
ornament the top of the mirror.
Mrs. Parkins came up to see that all was right,
and made several improvements in the arrange-
ment of the room. By the bed-side sat an enor-
mous high strait-backed chair, and on it she
placed a pile of blankets, lest Washington should
be cold in the night; and in case he should want
an amusing book to read, the Journal of John
Woolman was laid in the-window.
Isaac had suggested that the general would
doubtless be accompanied by some of his officers;


therefore the other bed-rooms underwent a simi-
lar revolution.
So great was the despatch used that all was
soon ready, and the whole family were dressed aad
seated in a row in the front-porch, waiting for the
eventful moment of Washington's arrival Mrs.
Parkins, however, was fully determined that they
should all keep cool and quiet, and act in no way
contrary to the principles of Friends. With this
view, she brought her husband hir hat, and de-
sired him to put it on, thath~might show George
Washington that he was not going to take it off,
even fir him. Isanc, anticipating the same in-
terdiction, contrived to hide his hat, and pretend-
ed he could not find it: but his mother had much
difficulty in making him keep his seat, as he was
momentarily on the point of starting t tthe gate,
to look if any one was coming. At last a cloud
of dust was seen on the top of the hill, the sound
of horses' hoofs was heard, and three officers
came in sight; riding all abreast, and followed
by an orderly-sergeant, and a black servant in
The gentleman in the centre was Washington,
then in the forty-fifth year of his age. He wore
his general's uniform of blue, faced with buff;
buff waistcoat and under-clothes; high military
boots; and a three-cornered hat with a black cock-
ade. A broad sash of pale blue ribbon crossed
his right shoulder, and was fastened at his left
side near the sword-belt. His hair was powdered
and dressed according to the fashion of the times,


and his sedate and noble countenance was in re-
ality far handsomer than any of the portraits that
have been painted of him. His figure was com-
manding in its air, and fine in its proportions;
and like most Virginians, he rode remarkably
well His manner united the dignity and urban-
ity of a gentleman, with the ease and grace of a
soldier; and when he dismounted from his horse
and threw the reins to his servant, the heart of
Sidney Campion swelled high with admiration
as he approached; and she thought of Russel,
and grieved still more at her brother's absence.
The family all rose from their seats, and the
hat ofJosiah was involuntarily taken off, "how-
beit unused to the bowing mood." There was
silence for a moment; and the general then said
to Mrs. Parkins, "I believe, madam, I must take
the liberty of encroaching on your hospitality for
one night's accommodation."
"Thee's right welcome, George Washing-
ton," was the reply.
The general then shook hands with Josiah
Parkins; who, recovering his speech, invited
him into the house with his two aids-de-camp;
and Isaac, who had previously received his les-
son from his father, conducted the men to the
stable with the horses. However, in a few min-
utes he was back again in the parlour, where he
concealed himself behind a round tea-table, that
was turned up in one corner of the room; and
from whence he could, unobserved, drink in


every word that the general said, and every look
that he looked.
Mrs. Parking and Sidney then departed to
send in the supper; the table having been set in
the adjoining room more than two hourn prei-
ous. The arrangement of the dishes was volun-
tarily undertaken by the general's black servant,
who called in the orderly-sergeant to help him,
and who assumed much authority over the sub-
missive and strictly-disciplined soldier, saying-
"Why, there now, you orderly, you sargen, who
but white man would ever put fried chicken be-
side bile chicken And look agin, now, haa't
you got rice pudding and cstard close agethert
Why, that's jist a same as dry bread and johnny-
cake. And what you put all the presrves in
one place for, in a whole crowd; 'stead of 'spers-
ing em about a table There, now, look, you're
setting the pickles among the cakes-and now
you're doin worse, for you're mixin the pickle-
seners with the butter-plates, as if people was to
butter their pickles. Come, clear out, clear out
to the kitchen, and bring in the heavy dishes;
and leave me fix the nickanackeries in a way fit
for master's general excellency, and the gentle-
men aids."
"I dare say," murmured the orderly, "that
you and the aids care more about these thing
than the general does himself"
Pretty right there," replied the negro, "but
go out, go out I tell you, and stick to the heavy
work. Don't you offer to hand the general his


coffee; and if you do, be sure and take care not
to spill it on his ropaulets."
His what 1" asked the sergeant.
Why, the big toesels that he carries on his
shoulders. An't they bright shiny goold, and
bavn't I the cleaning of 'em with a brush and
chalk. Your ignorance prisess me."
"Oh! his epaulets," said the soldier.
I'll not trust you," rejoined the negro. So
let nobody meddle with master's general excel-
lency but myself. I'll take care of kis, and no-
body else. You may wait on the aids. And
when supper's over, be sure you be at hand to
clear away the rubbage."
Mrs. Parking could not prevail on herself to
quit the kitchen, lest the short-cakes should not
be sent in properly, and hot and hot;" and at
her desire Sidney Campion presided at the ta-
ble; where her beauty and modesty drew many
glances and many civilities from the young
As he sat down to table, Washington took off
his sword, and handing it to the delighted Isaac,
(who had gradually emerged from his corner) he
said to him-" There, my good boy, will you be
kind enough to put this away for me 1" Isaac
took it to the corner-cupboard, (the usual place
of deposit for articles of great value) and walked
slowly across the room to prolong the felicity of
holding in his hand the sword of Washington,
carrying it upright before him as a king carries
his sceptre. He carefully placed it in the cup-


board, laying it across a huge china bowl, which
was considered so precious that it had never yet
been used; and then, full of his happiness, he
went into the kitchen to communicate it.
SIsaac," said his mother, looking up rom the
table where she was cutting douh into cake
with the edge of a tumbler, why doe thee hold
thy head so high, and straighten thy back be-
yond all reason, and walk with thy toes turned
so farout Thee looks as if pride had got into
thee: therefore I desire a change."
Mother," answered Isaac, "'tis no wonder
I feel proud. I have been spoken to by Wash-
"What," inquired Mrs. Parking, "did he tell
thee to quit acting the monkey 1"
"No," replied Isaac, "he unbuckled his
sword, and choosing me out from all present, he
said to me, in a tone of the greatest preference,
"There, my good boy, will you be kind enough
to put this away for me." And no doubt he
would have added much more, only that just at
the moment Sidney sent him a cup of coffee.
However, his hand touched mine, as he gave me
the sword."
"Oh, aunt!" exclaimed little Patty, "don't
keep me here buttering short-cakes; but let me
go into the parlour, and perhaps Washington
may speak to me also."
Thee's forgetting thy modesty," said Ms.
Parking, U thee would not wish to be there fae


to face with all those offier-men in their regi-
mentals 1"
"Yes, indeed I would," answered Patty,
"that's just what I want. There are no people
in the world that look so beautiful as officers;
and as to their uniform, that's the very best part
of them."
Well," said Mrs. Parking, "thee may slip
in, if thee takes care to keep thyself as much out
of view as possible. I'll just finish these cakes,
and then if I live, I'll go in and take poor Sid-
ney's place. I dare say she is impatient to get
away from the table."
Indeed, aunt," said the little girl, I don't
know how that can possibly be"

Supper over, the general and his officer were
left to themselves till they retired for the night;
and Sidney, when she went to-bed, regaled her
sister with a minute description of all that had
passed in her absence; and particularly with an
anecdote that one of the officers related, of the
Marquis de la Fayette, the young and enthusi-
astic French nobleman, who had recently de-
voted to the cause of America his sword, his
purse, and his influence. La Fayette was with
the main army; but Washington, accompanied
-by his aids, had preceded the van-guard, with a
view of reconnoitring the ground where it was
probable the expected battle would take place;
being desirous of judging for himself of the to-
pography of that part of the country.


How sorry I am," said little Patty, "that
the charming French marquis did not come here
with Washington. But it would have been too
much glory for one house."
The family were up next morning long be-
fore the first glimpse of dawn, and a most pro-
fuese breakfast was prepared by a very early hour.
After the repast was over, one of the aids follow-
ed Josiah out into the entry, and told him he was
desired by the general to request him to name
the compensation that would be sufficient for the
expense and trouble of their visit. The good
quaker coloured deeply, and answered the ofier
in these words-" Alexander, I live on my own
land, and I owe nobody a shilling. Therefore,
I can well afford to give George Washington
and his people, a night's rest and a meal's vict-
uals. I own I do not approve of bloodshed, and
fighting in any way is against my principles.
But perhaps (for I don't speak positively) per-
haps this war is the nearest to a just one of any
that has ever taken place "
I am glad to hear you say so," said the offi-
cer; unfortunately, the members of your very
respectable society have too generally been op-
posed to the revolution."
That is not from any dislike to liberty," re-
joined the quaker; but from an aversioh to the
spilling of blood. However, Friends are free to
act as they think proper; and I also am fee to
refuse taking a single farthing for the entertain-
ment of George Washington and his followers."


The aid began to expostulate, but Josiah stop-
ped him by saying, Put up that pocket-book,
Alexander, the sight of it offends me. I shall at
any time be glad to see thee again, or any of thy
friends; but if thee persists in offering me money,
I am free to tell thee that thee shall never more
enter my house."
The officer smiled, put up the pocket-book,
and shook hands with the generous quaker.
The men were now leading round the horses
to the gate, and Washington was in the porch
ready to depart. Isaac took the sword from the
shelf in such haste that he threw down and broke
the great bowl; an accident that in less "stir-
ring times," would have brought him a long and
severe reprimand from his mother; but was now
only noticed with, I declare, Isaac, thee ought
to be talked to," as she returned to the porch to
see the last of Washington.
"Isaac, Isaac," said little Patty, "do let Me
carry the sword to the general, and give it to
him myself, with my own hands; and 1 dare say
he will speak to me."
"Thee's asking too great a favour," replied
Isaac, too great for me to grant."
"Oh, Isaac !" resumed the little girl, do be
good to me. You know the rule-' Do as you
would le done by.'"
There, then," said Isaac, giving her the
weapon, now hold it fast in both hands, and
carry it carefully, and don't let the belt trail on
the ground."


Patty carried the sword to Washington, who
was earnestly engaged in giving someordersto his
aids, which they were immediately to convey to
General Greene and General Sullivan. Not hav-
ing courage to speak, she stood silently beside him,
looking anxiously in his face and hoping to catch
his eye. One of the officers perceived her; and,
taking the sword out of her hand, he presented
it to the general, who buckled it on almost un-
consciously, and continued talking on the subject
that was engrossing his whole attention. Patty
remained a few moments; but soon perceived
that there was no hope for her; with a swelling
heart, a quivering lip, and eyes filling fast, she
slowly retired, and going into the house, she sat
down at the foot of the stairs, and throwing her
apron over her head, burst into tears. In this
state she was found by her uncle Josiah, who in-
quired the reason of her distress, which she told
him with many sobs, saying that she was afraid
her heart would soon break. The good quaker
was much touched by the disappointment of the
little girl, and her consequent affliction. Now
wipe thine eyes," said he, and change thy face
immediately; and when thee is able to look
smiingly, I will take thee myself to Washing-
ton, and he shall see thee and speak to thee."
In an instant Patty wiped her eyes very hard
with her apron, and smiled with all her might.
Josiah took her hand, and led her towards the
horse-block at the gate, which was shaded by a
large plum-tree. The general was there putting


on his gloves and preparing to mount his impa-
tient horse, the girth of whose saddle his black
srvant was tightening. The aids had already
departed with the orderly-sergeant.
"Friend George," maid Josiah, I bring thee
a little girl, a niece of mine, and by name Mar-
tha Campion. Her father, Robert Campion of
Sycamore Hill, is away with the northern army,
commanding a company of volunteers that he
raised in his own neighbourhood. I know he is
a good patriot, and he is called a good fighting-
man. Thee will oblige me, and please the child,
if thee will take some notice of her before thee
starts. It will be something for her to remember."
Bless you, my dear," said the general, lay-
ing his hand on her curly head, as he placed his
foot in the stirrup. The children of my brave
fellow-soldiers are mine also." He stooped and
kissed her, and the little girl, blushing with de-
light, hid her face in the skirt of her uncle's coat.
The general had already taken leave of the
other members of the family, who were standing
in the porch to see him off, and he now shook
hands with his worthy entertainer, and with Isaac
also, and mounting his horse was out of sight in
a few minutes, followed by his black man.
It was more than half an hour after the de-
parture of Washington, before the family could
cease talking of him; so as to collect their ideas,
and make the requisite arrangements for their
intended departure in the afternoon, to seek a
place of refuge at a greater distance from the


neighbourhood of the expected battle. It was
not, however, the intention of Josiah to accom-
pany them; for he steadily declared (and when
he was once resolved, nothing could induce him
to waver) that he did not feel free to desert his
own house; and that he considered it his duty
to remain there himself and take charge of his
property: and as he was not a fighting-man,"
he professed to have no apprehension of being
exposed to any personal danger, should the battle
eventuate successfully for the British. But as in
that case, his house might be visited by the rude
and reckless soldiers of the enemy, he thought it
best that the women and children should be re-
moved from it.
It was decided that they should seek a tempo-
rary asylum at the house of Hannah Grimpson;
a widow whose dwelling was in a remote and
solitary place, a considerable distance fom any
public road, and whose late husband was a relay
tion of Mrs. Parkins. Accordingly, the business
of preparation commenced, in which poor Sid-
ney, who seemed destined to find no restig-
place, gave ample assistance; as did also little
Patty, who professed great cleverness at such
work, from having been so recently engaged in
it. The two hired girls went home to their pa-
rents, Josiah saying that he could manage to
keep house perfectly well by himself
Sidney having expressed a preference for going
on horse-back, it was decided that Mrs. Parking
and little Patty should ride in the chaise and


be driven by Isaac. The box belonging to the
chaise was well filled with various articles, com-
prising among them all the silver belonging to
the family; and a trunk was strapped on behind.
Isaac took his seat beside his mother, and Patty
*at on a stool at their feet; with a little basket
of eatables under her charge. They took an
affectionate leave of Josiah, who made a great
effort to appear cheerful, and gave much good
advice to Isaac. Sidney kept as near to her fel-
low-travellers as possible, not wishing to lose sight
of them: and in a few minutes they had ascend-
ed the hill, and turned back their heads to take
a farewell look at the house, and at Josiah who
was still gazing at them from the porch.
Now, Isaae," said Mrs. Parking, I count
greatly on thy discretion, and desire thee to con-
det in steadiness and quiet. Thee's not to tell
where we are going; and, above all, thee's not
to mention to any one that George Washington
and hs people staid at our house last night."
I'd rather keep any thing to myself than
that," replied Isaac.
Thee must learn to place a seal on thy lips,
now in these dangerous times," said his mother.
By way of a nearer cut they turned into a
cros-road through the woods; and in a short
time came in sight of the habitation of an ancient
Indian woman,who had been known in the neigh-
bourhood since the earliest recollection of its "old-
est inhabitant." Wasconsa was the daughter of
a chief who, with his whole tribe, had exchanged


their land with the white settlers for what they
considered equivalent in blankets, powder, beads
and other commodities highly valued by the In-
dians. Wasconsa was then a child; and she
accompanied her countrymen when they turned
their faces to the west: but, after twelve years,
she came back again to the scenes of her earliest
youth. She had been married, but had lost her
husband in battle. Wasconsa remembered many
marks of kindness which she had received from
the white settlers, when a little Indian girl, pre-
vious to the departure of her tribe, and she came
back, confiding in a friendly reception. Her an-
ticipations were realized; and she divided her
time between the houses of the different farmers
in her old neighbourhood. They found her use-
ful, ingenious, and intelligent; and the squaw
became a great favourite with all the children.
After a few years, Wasconsa longed again for
the forest wild," and returned to her country-
men; and it was long indeed before she was
seen again in the settlement of her white friends.
The marks of age were then upon her, and Was-
consa, having lost a second husband and all her
children, she expressed a desire to establish her-
self permanently in the haunts of her early recol-
lections. Some young men of the neighbourhood
volunteered to build for her a shanty or hut, in a
place which she indicated, in the midst of a thick
wood, and reclining against a rock, from the foot
of which issued a clear spring; for she said that,


now she was growing old, she wished to have a
house of her own.
Wasconsa, however, still continued her visits
to the families in the vicinity. Her peculiarities
were tolerated, and even sanctioned by indul-
gence; and she was always a welcome guest to
her old friends, and their children, and grand-
children. When at home, her manner of living,
and the furniture of her hut, were rude and rough
as in the wildest wigwam: for she said it was
not good for her to live always like white people.
The Indian woman employed herself in ma-
king baskets, and moccasins; and in cultivating
medicinal herbs in a patch of cleared ground be-
hind the rock. By the sale of these articles she
obtained a little money, some of which, it must
be confessed, she spent at the store in rum; but
she made it a point of honour never to drink any
thing but water while visiting at white houses, as
she called them. We will not say that the squaw
had equal self-command when alone in the soli-
tude of her cabin.
Wasconsa was seated at her door, making a
basket, when our travellers stopped to water their
horses at the spring. She wore her usual dress
of a long-sleeved chemise of dark calico, (con-
fined at the wrist and above the elbow with bands
of bright tin resembling muffin-rings) and a red-
stuff petticoat. Her hair, now almost white, was
tied up on the top of her head with a string of
beads, and was strongly contrasted with the dark
hue of her tawny face. When Wasconsa went


out, she added to her attire a pair of buckskin
moccasins, a sort of cloak made of a blanket,
with arm-holes cut in it, and a man's black hat
decorated with a band of blue beads.
While Isaac borrowed her bucket, and was
proceeding to give water to the horses, Was-
conea invited the whole party into her house.
They knew that to decline the hospitality of an
Indian, is a mortal affront; and therefore, though
much pressed for time, they complied with the
invitation, and took their seats on a bench in the
interior of her hut. The squaw immediately re-
galed them with pieces of corn-bread dipped in
wild honey, and presented on vine-leaves.
Patty looked round with much commiseration
at the scanty furniture of the hut; particularly
at Wasconsa's bed, which was of coarse tow-
linen, stuffed with the husks of Indian corn, and
covered with a patchwork of skins. The bed-
stead, if it might be called so, was merely a few
boards nailed on short upright logs, planted in
the earth of the floor.
Well, Wasconsa, what is the news with
thee?" said Mrs. Parkins, taking off her bonnet,
for coolness, and wiping the dust carefully from it.
"The war is near us," replied Wasconsa,
"and we may soon hear the sound of guns, and
smell the smell of powder. You know that I
have seen fighting. This will make me think
of old times."
Wasconsa," said Patty, are you a whig
or a tory?"


"I am for Congress and Washington," said
the Indian woman, with animation. "I have
heard much talk among the people where I go;
and I think that their side is the right side."
Aunt," said Patty, in a low voice, "I like
her very much."
But what is yor news, Abigail Parkins 1"
inquired the squaw.
Not much," answered Mrs. Parking, "not
much, indeed, Wasconsa; at least, nothing worth
speaking o."
That's strange," said Wasconsa, in such
times as these."
"But yet," pursued Mrs. Parkins, "every
body seems to have happenings of their own."
"Every body always has," remarked Was-
"Yes," resumed Mrs. Parkins, "but some
happenings are greater than others."
"To be sure," said Wasconsa.
"In war-time," continued Mrs. Parkins, "we
never know what's before us."
"Nor in peace-time neither," said Wasconsa.
"But what I mean is," pursued Mrs. Parkins,
"that in war-time we are apt to see people that
we should not see if things were all quiet. And
to have near views of them, too, even face to face.
It is mostly in war-time that we are likely to en-
tertain great strangers."
There was a silence, which Mrs. Parking
broke in a few moments by saying, suddenly,


and in a quick, careless voice, George Wash-
ington staid at our house last night."
I knew he was in these parts," said Was-
But was it not strange," said Mrs. Parking;
" that he should have come to our house of all
houses in the world t"
"I see not the strangeness," answered Was-
I can assure thee," resumed Mrs. Parkins,
"we did our best to give George good enter-
You give good entertainment to all visit,"
said the Indian woman, who upon all occasion
spoke precisely as she thought.
Mrs. Parkins was proceeding with a minute
detail of all that had passed, fom the first pre
parations for the reception of the general, till his
departure from the house, when she was suddenly
startled by the report of a cannon shot.
They've come-they've met," exclaimed the
squaw, starting up; "they're at it now."
They all ran to the door, just in time to see
Isaac drop the bucket out of which he himself
had been drinking, and run offthrough the woods
with more speed than he had ever before exerted
in his life, exclaiming, "The fight's begun-I
must see it! I can't come back till it's over."
His mother in vain called after him, Isaac,
my son Isaac-Come beck, or I shall certainly
blame thee. Thee's not in the right way."
They waited some time in much agitation;


but Isaac did not return, and Wasconsa told
them that they need not expect to see him again
that day. The sound of heavy guns became fre-
quent. Sidney trembled as she thought of Rus-
sel; believing him to be in the battle that was
now going on, and fearing that he was there not
as a mere spectator; and she mingled her tears
with those of little Patty, who exclaimed, Oh!
I wish there could be war without fighting!"
Mrs. Parkins cried for a long time; but at last
found some consolation in the reflection that
Isaac had sense enough to take care of himself.
" And then," said she, "he has had such a good
bringing-up, that his principles may be depended
on. No doubt he will be satisfied to look on at
a safe distance. Besides, he has no weapons;
and I rather think that, in real soldier-battles,
there is no such thing as fighting with fists. And
when he sees that he can give no help, it is quite
likely that he'll have wit enough to keep out of
harm's way, and not run needlessly into blood-
shed. How much trouble there is with boys!"
Yes, indeed, aunt," said little Patty, "it's a
pity that all boys are not girls."
After some consultation, it was finally decided
that the party should proceed to their intended
place of destination, in the hope that Isaac would
manage to join them there that evening, or the
following day. For this purpose Sidney's horse
was left for him in charge of Wasconsa, whose
intention was to remain quietly in her own hovel,
which had nothing in it to tempt the rapacity of


the enemy, and was besides in too sequestered a
spot to be easily discovered by hem. Sidney then
placed herself in the chaise with Patty and Mrs.
Parkins, the latter undertaking to drive, and they
took leave of Wasconsa; having first presented
her with a pie, and some cake fAm their pro-
The fugitives proceeded on their journey, with
heavy hearts. Their road soon cried them
away from the sound of the guns, which seemed
gradually to diminish like distant thunder; but,
when they arrived at the top of the next hill, they
saw by the cloud of white smoke hovering over
the distant fields, that the battle still continued.
As they drew near the end of their journey,
Mrs. Parking began to prepare Sidney for her
first impressions of the house and family to which
they were going, and whose only recommenda-
tions seemed to be their secluded situation, and
their distance from any route the British were
likely to take. Indeed, Sidney," said she, I
apprehend thee will find them but a rough set,
if I may be permitted to speak so of my fellow-
creatures. Cousin Hannah Grimpeon's house-
keeping was never much to boast of even in her
husband's life-time; and I doubt if it's any bet-
ter now. Cousin Jabez was a man well to-do
in the world, and in his father's house was sc-
customed to having every thing full and plenty.
But instead of looking for a wife among our own
people, and marrying in Meeting, as friends
ought to do, he goes away off to Conegocheague,


where Hannah's father was a squatter; and he
married her somewhere about Goose Creek.
What could be expected of a girl that had no
bringing-up whatever After this unlucky mar-
riage, nothing ever seemed to prosper with him.
So he fell into a sort of melancholy way, and got
hypp'd, and thought he was a tea-pot.
A tea-pot !" exclaimed Patty.
"Yes, indeed," resumed Mrs. Parkins, "peo-
ple that are hypp'd are full of these strange no-
tions. He had hardly got over the tea-pot, when
he began to imagine himself a clock; and he
would stand for hours in the corner, swinging
one arm back and forwards like a pendulum,
and ticking with his mouth. His wife, who
was always very ignorant and superstitious, had
him pow-wow'd over and over again; but it was
all to no purpose. Hearing what a way he was
in, I thought it my duty to go and see cousin Ja-
bes; and I found him on the top of the old sta-
ble, whisking about for a weathercock. There
was no end to his fancies; and at this time he
never was the same thing more than two days
together. I persuaded Hannah to stop every sort
of pow-wowing, and send for a real doctor. The
doctor came, and insisted on bleeding him, which
Hannah thought dreadfully wicked: and she
and the children cried and screamed all the time
the blood was running; though Jabez declared
it did not hurt him at all. Afterwards the doc-
tor advised him to go from home, and travel, and


ee new places and new people. His wife want-
ed to go along with him, but the doctor said that
would spoil all. So he went by himself, and
travelled away to Philadelphia and New York,
and all about, and came home quite a different
man. So after that, whenever he felt nervous,
and as if his old fancies were coming upon him,
he used to set off and go from home. And, at
last, he never aas well except when he was in
other people's houses; as is mostly the cae with
men that have no comfort in their own. But he
could not be away always; and every thing was
going to wreck at home; and so he died about
harvest-time. As soon as cousin Jabez was
dead, Hannah Grimpeon made a vendue, and
sold all their decent furniture; thinking they
should have no further use for it. And now they
are living on the money they got by the sale, and
I dare say it will soon be gone. And even when
they were really very well off, their management
was so bad that every thing about them seemed
Aunt," said little Patty, I think we had
better turn about, and not go to that house."
"Why replied Mrs. Parkins; "I don't
know any other that's likely to be so safe. And,
had as it is, we can make out for a day or two.
A little change for the worse will only prepare us
to like our own home the better."
They were now in sight of Hannah Grimp-
son's habitation, a long low frame building, black

70 aUssIt AND IIDNrY.

for want of painting.* There were several
chasms in the roof where loose shingles had been
blown away, and never replaced. Old hats and
old petticoats were stuffed into the broken win-
dows. The roof of the porch had long since
gone off; and its tall posts were standing up-
right, supporting nothing. The porch-floor was
so loose for want of nais, that the boards tilted
up and down, whenever they were walked on;
the steps were gone; and the ascent was now
facilitated by three tottering stones, placed one
upon another. Under the porch was a large
space, which served as a receptacle for all the
rubbish that was thought unworthy of the house;
that is, old rags, broken earthen-ware, gridirons
without bars; kettles without bottoms; flat-irons
without handles; and tubs without hoops: for
nothing belonging to the Grimpson family was
ever mended. This museum of relics was the
usual abiding-place of the little negroes, and their
playmates the younger Grimpsons, who were
bare-footed, dirty-handed, dirty-faced imps, with
long matted hair of the colour and quality of tow.
The house stood alone in the midst of a waste
field that was overgrown with the tall coarse
stalks of the mullen-weed. On one side was a
dismantled barn, and the ruins of a stable: on
the other, a patch of ground meant for a garden,
with the greatest part of its fence lying prostrate

SThe Grimpmso family sd all their supetidd are from
lie. So sLo is their housewiifey.


on the beds. This garden contained a few
weedy vegetables, mot of which were running
to seed; and half a dozen crooked old trees.
At the sound of the chaise-wheels, the whole
Grimpson family, white and black, ran out to ee
what was coming; most of the young Africans
carrying b way of" doB-babies," squashes and
corn-cob begirt with old handkerchiefs. On
Mrs. Parking making known her business, the
strangers were received by the family with as
much civility as they were capable of, and in-
vited into the house. It being now dusk,a candle,
not bigger than Patty's little finger, and of nearly
serpentme crookedness, was lighted, stock in the
remnant of an iron candlestick, and placed on
the top of the dough-trough which generally an-
swered the purpose of a table. There were two
stump-beds in the room, with very dirty yarn
coverlets, and no pillows. The chairs were all
more or less maimed; and their bottoms were
so broken that, on most of them, the spikes of
the rushes stood up in fearful array, like quills
upon the fretful porcupine."
As there was not a pane of glass in the doors
of the corner-cupboard, its contents, like every
thing else in the house, were covered with dust.
The embers of a fire glowed dimly on a vat
hearth heaped with long hdlock of ashes; and
there was a broken bench in one of the recesses
of the fire-place, where, as Hannah afterwards
told her guests, poor Jabez used to sit by the
hour, and look up the chimbley at the stars."


Hannah Grimpson was a tall, ill-shaped
woman, with a parched-up face, a large mouth,
and very scanty teeth. Her black hair, striped
with grey, was half turned up under a dirty thick
muslin cap, and half hanging about her neck.
She and her daughters were habited in very dirty
calico short-gowns, and very dirty stuff petti-
coats. The eldest girls, who were called Minty
and Milky, were of the ages of sixteen and seven-
teen. They were tall, dangling, and awkward,
with very round backs and very narrow fronts,
their arms being set on before. Their hay-col-
oured hair was gathered together at the back of
the neck, and tied with a bit of faded ribbon,
from whence its remaining length hung down
like a broad stiff brush. Their ears were wisely
concealed under two great square side-locks,
and their front hair was cut short and thick, in
a straight line just above their eye-brows. There
were five or six younger children, all of the same
Soon after the visitors were seated, Minty
Grimpson went round with a small waiter, on
which was a wine-glass containing some whis-
key, with a lump of sugar and a tea-spoon in it:
beside the wine-glass stood a tumbler of water.
This refreshment was offered to all three of the
guests; each of whom was expected to take a tea-
spoon-ful of the sweetened whiskey, and to wash
it down with a sup of water from the tumbler.
The same mode of presenting whiskey and water


to strangers, still prevails in some parts of the
After much tedious preparation, a supper was
placed before the weary travellers; but it was so
uninviting that they found it difficult to eat even
as much as good manners required. The coffee
was weak and ,muddy; the bread sour and
heavy; the butter rancid, as is always the case
when it is made by dirty people; the fried bacon
was too fat and too salt to be endured; and of
the fried eggs that covered it, the whites were
nearly black. The family did not join in the
repast, having already had their supper; but
while Minty presided at table, her mother and
Milky sat down by the fire, and each smoked a
pipe, filling the room with fumes of tobacco; to
the great annoyance of the guests, who were glad
to retire for the night- to their chamber, where
they found that all three were expected to sleep
in one bed. This room was on the ground-loor,
and they were kept awake till nearly morning,
by the squealing, grunting and scrambling of
about a dozen pigs, who, having no sty, were in
the habit of coming every night to bivouack un-
der the same window of the same chamber; fight-
ing all the time about their beds, according to
the usual custom of these amiable animals.
Next morning, when Mrs. Parkins, with Sid-
ney and Patty, entered the sitting-room, they
found the breakfast-table set, and a johnny-cake
baking, or rather burning, on a board before the
fire, while the two girls were combing and tying


their long hair over it. The breakfast was sim-
ilar to the supper; and the mother and daugh-
ters all told their dreams at it. It should have
been mentioned, that when the guests arrived the
evening before, Hannah Grimpson had declared
that she knew very well she should se strangers,
as her nose had been itching all the afternoon:
and that was a certain sign.
They were still at the breakfast-table, when
one of the little boys came crying in, having run
a nail into his foot by treading on one of the old
boards. Luckily the wound was slight and not
in a dangerous part of the foot Hannah Grimp-
son immediately sent a black boy to bring her
that very nail. When it was brought, she greas-
ed the nail with a piece of fat bacon, wrapped it
in a rag, and laid it up in a hole at the back of
the chimney. "There, now, Jemmy," said she,
" you needn't cry no more-Your foot will be
well enough in a day or two, if I keeps the nail
well greased. Nothing more needn't be done.
It's a sartain cure."
Little Patty opened her eyes wide with aston-
ishment; and it was with some difficulty Mrs.
Parkins prevailed on Hannah to allow her to
undertake the cure of the boy's foot by other
remedies. "You may try what you please,"
said Hannah, at last; "but I know that all the
vartue of the cure.will be in the nail up the chim-
bley. It's the way we always cured such hurts
in the part of the country where I was raised.


It's as sartain, as tying a skein of red silk round
the neck is a cure for the scarlet fever."
Now I think of it," said Mrs. Parkin, why
are thy bee-hives stuck over with bows of black
crape 1"
Oh I" said Milky, we put the bee-hives in
mourning when daddy died, to keep the bees
from going away; as they always do when
there's a death in the family. Just after we lost
little brother Johnny, while we were frettin for
fear the bees would all take themselves off, there
came along a Yankee pedler, and he told us the
right way of preventing them, and mammy
bought a yard of black crape of him, on purpose.
So we made it up into bows and bands, and drest
the bee-hives with it, and every bee staid. And,
after awhile we took of the crape and put it by
to save it for the next death; and so it has come
in use again for daddy."
Minty now entered from the garden, and said,
" Mammy, I've been sowing some pepper-gras,
and I want you and all the folks to come out in
the garden and laugh."
Laugh at what" asked Mrs. Parking.
Why, surely, cousin," said Minty, "you
must know that when garden-seeds are sowed,
the truck will come up sooner and grow better
if the whole family and every body in the house,
stands round the bed and laughs."
It is a sartain fact," aid Hannah Grimpeon.
SMost people only use this mean when they


sows parsley, but we thinks it best to be on the
safe side, and we laughs over every thing."
Come, make haste," said Minty, for if it
isn't done quickly, there's no vartue in laughing."
I cannot say," replied Mrs. Parkins, "that .
I feel fee to go upon this business. Thee has
certainly a right to do as thee pleases with thy
own property; and, if it seems good to thee to
laugh over thy garden-seeds, I shall take no
measures to prevent it. But thee understands
that I have an equal right to object to joining it."
Sidney, however, was less scrupulous; and at
the repeated instances of the family, she and
Patty adjourned with them to the garden, and
every member of the establishment (including
both colours) assembled round the bed in which
Minty had sown the pepper-grass. The laugh
was immediately commenced, and at first it was
forced and unnatural, except with the negroes;
but in a short time it became contagious, and
Sidney saw the whole proceeding in so ridiculous
a light, that her mirth was as much excited as
little Patty's.
The laughter continued for some minutes, the
peals were rising to "a louder yet, and yet a
louder strain," and the performers in this strange
chorus would perhaps have found some difficulty
in stopping themselves, but they were at last in-
terrupted by the sound of a horse's feet, and in a
moment they all ran to the fence to see who was
coming. Sidney and Patty hoped that it was
Russel; and Mrs. Parking came out in expect


station of finding her run-away Isaac. But they
were sadly disappointed. It was the ague-doc-
tor, who had been sent for to cure Milky Grimp-
son of that deplorable disease, with which she
was afflicted every third day, having got it," as
they said, when she was on a visit down in Sas-
safras Neck."
The doctor was a short, clumsy, red-faced
man, and had a countenance indicative of gross
ignorance, tinctured with low cunning. This
arrival appeared to diffuse great joy throughout
the family; and he was invited into the house,
and refreshed with a glass of whiskey without
any water after it. Mrs. Parkins, on inquiring
the nature of his specific, learned that the cure
was to be defected by tying the ague to a tree.
Seeing that the strangers were much at a loss
for the meaning of this singular remedy, they
were invited to witness the process."*
The doctor inquired which was "the agoe
gall" and then asking for some blue and white
yarn, he desired her to assist him in twisting it
into a strong cord. This was done, and he led
her to a large old apple-tree in the garden; follow-
ed by the whole household, who all made a point
of maintaining the most serious faces during the
ceremony. He then made a loop at one end of
the cord, and through this loop Milky was de-
sired to put her hand. The doctor then tied the

It is not many years since man in the vicinity of Phila-
delphia professed this method of curing the agis.


other end of the string to a branch of the tree;
and by his direction, Milky, after 'he had mut-
tered some unintelligible words, slipped her hand
out of the loop and ran back to the house with
all her might; taking care not to look behind
her, lest (as the doctor said) she should break the
And now," said the doctor, the agoe is tied
to the tree, and the tree will have the complaint,
and all its future apples will be cold and tasteless
and watery. Did you never see apples that had
the agoe I"
The doctor now returned to the house, and de-
claring he must up and be going, as he had six
whole families to cure on Bohema River," his
fee was prepared for him with as much speed as
the Grimpeons were capable of exerting. He
said he never took money, for, as he was the
seventh son of a seventh son, if he was paid in
coin, his virtue would all go out of him; and
therefore he had to be satisfied in produce."
Accordingly, his saddle-bags were filled with
bacon, cheese, meal, and various other articles;
and at departing, he asked for a piece of new
linsey to make him a pair of trousers: which fin-
sey he rolled up, and put into one of his capa-
cious pockets.
Sidney had asked him if he knew any thing
of the result of the battle; upon which he put on
a solemn face, and replied, that being devoted to
curing, he never took any account of killing; and
that if he meddled in any way with fighting, his


virtue would go out of him. After his departure,
little Patty said, in a low voice, to her sister,
" Sidney, if Russel was here, I know what he
would say of this doctor." "What 1" "That
he is more knave than fool. You know Russel
often says that of people."
The family now returned to their household
affairs, in which they derived tvry little assistance
from the negroes, the best of whom had long
since ran away. Of those that remained, none
exceeded the age of fourteen, and all were utterly
worthless; doing nothing but what they pleased,
and having neither love nor fear of their owner.
A black boy was prevailed on, with much diffi-
culty, to quit swinging on the barn-yard gate,
(the only gate that had hinges) and go to the
woods to get fuel for heating the oven. Instead
of going to the woods, he went to the orchard
(which was much nearer) and committed sad
havoc among the trees, in breaking and cutting
them to procure a supply of dry branches.
Milky Grimpson made up in the dough-trough
a huge mass of pie-crust, concocted with rye-
meal, shortened with cold grease that had been
skimmed from the bacon-pot. Minty, having
procured a tub of apples, took an axe and chop-
ped them up, skins, cores, and all, to make fill-
ing for the pies; each of which was sweetened
with a little molasses. The mother smoked her
pipe, heated the oven, and got dinner;" having
first taken a pan of the morning's milk (which
had sat for many hours on the dresser with the


sun shining into it) and strained out the flies
through something that greatly resembled a dish-
cloth, and then threw into it a handful of dirty
rice, unwashed and unpicked. This was after-
wards baked as a rice pudding. As soon as the
pies were all made and ranged on the dough-
trough and dresser, ready for the oven, Milky
seized the stump'T an old broom, and raised a
thick dust all over them by furiously sweeping
the floor.
The first course of the dinner consisted of the
above-mentioned rice-pudding; and the second
of a piece of fat rusty bacon, boiled with wild
greens, or rather weeds gathered from the fields;
Hannah Grimpson saying, by way of apology,
" I am quite put out, that we've no better mass
now that strangers is come; but, somehow, we
did not plant as much garden-truck as usual,
and what there was didn't get well weeded; and
as to the early 'tatoes the pigs have rooted up
most of them." Next was produced a dish of
hot-corn of that description called nubbings; and
the repast concluded with a couple of stale ap-
ple-pies, so hard as to be scarcely penetrable to
knife or teeth; the pies prepared that morning
not being yet baked, and Hannah assuring her
guests thut they would be saft enough if they
could only be eat hot."
At any other time the slovenly and uncomfort-
able habits of this family would have been abso-
lutely intolerable to their new inmates, whose
minds, however, were so anxiously engaged with


subjects of deeper interest, that much that was
annoying and disgusting now passed almost with-
out notice,
In the course of the day, they received a great
deal of contradictory intelligence from neighbours
that came "to see the strangers;" but nothing was
heard of Russel, Isaac, or even of Tommy
Tring. Sidney, who was extremely clever at her
pen, had promised to write to her uncle Josiah
Parkins to inform him of their arrival: and she
was now still more anxious to despatch a letter
to him, in the hope of gaining in return some
tidings of the truant boys. But on inquiring for
writing materials, the girls told her "that the
pen and ink had been sold at the vendue after
daddy died, not supposing that it would ever be
wanted again; but that she could easily borrow
of the schoolmaster who lived but two miles off;
and that black Jack should catch a horse, and
gallop away directly to bring it to her, if she was
in a great hurry for it." Sidney recollecting
that she had a lead pencil, and had taken the
precaution to bring some paper with her, man-
aged to write the letter without sending to the
schoolmaster for pen and ink; and steeping the
paper in milk to prevent the pencil-marks from
rubbing off, she dried and folded the sheet, and
prepared to send it to her Uncle Josiah .y black
Jack; who never objected to catch a horse, and
who was always more willing to ride than to do
any thing else.



the ueas of death ye" Lad Whi."

Wa will now return to Ruel Campion, not,
however, with the intention of following him
through all his adventures while he "hover'd
about the enemy, and mark'd the road he took."
Intelligent, active, hardy, and of a spirit that
shrunk fom nothing, he had frequent opportuni-
ties of being of essential service in the cause to
which all his energies were directed; for he was
quick and comprehensive in his observations,
and alert in conveying and communicating them
to the right persons.
He soon became well known to Maxwell's
riflemen, meeting them in their frequent excur-
sions through the country about the Brandywine;
where they were of much service in annoying
the British, and cutting off their foraging parties.
But this sort of warfare was only tolerable to the
impetuous spirit of Russel, as a preparation for
what was soon to come; and he longed for the


hour of the anticipated battle, being determined
at all hazards to have some share in it.
The army of Washington was now waiting
for that of Howe, and lay encamped behind the
Brandywine, in the vicinity of Chad's Ford;
which, being the passage mot likely to be at-
tempted by the Britih, was defended by the
commander-in-chief General Armtrong and
his militia had charge of the rosing-place at the
shallows below; and the bugle of Maxwel's
riflemen rung through the woods hbove.
It was on the afternoon of the tenth of Sep-
tember that Rusel arrived at oneof th poe
of Washington's army, and, as his ole object
now was to have some partiipation in the ez
peeted conflict, he had left his hore at the near
est tavern, supposing that he could fight mon
conveniently on foot. Being challenged by the
first sentinel, he declared his name and family,
and that it was his earnest desire to be admitted
into the camp, and to be allowed to assist, as far
as he could, in the impending battle: assuring
the soldier that his gun was excellent, and that
he was considered a capital shot.
If we were to take all the boys that offer, we
should soon have the camp full of them," replied
the sentinel; "but wait till the relief comes round,
(which will be in a few minutes) and I will see
what can be done for you. Lieutenant Arnlife
will be along, and he has a great fancy for boys
that are full of eight "


Lieutenant Charles Araelife, of the Penn-
sylvania line 1" exclaimed Russel.
"Yes," replied the sentinel, "the very same.
He's a noble fellow, and ver good to the men;
as brave officers always are.
Russel now determined to be good to kit men,
if he ever should have any. And he was re-
joiced to find that he was likely to meet with a
friend in the camp. I know Lieutenant Arn-
clife very well," said he; "his father and my
father were old acquaintances. He once passed
a night at Sycamore Hill, and he and I became
very good friends."
In a short time, the relief arrived; and, as
soon as the ceremony of changing the guard was
over, Russel came forward, and offering his hand
to Lieutenant Arncliffe, he exclaimed, "Mr. Am-
clife, I hope you remember me; I am Russel
Campion, the son of Robert Campion, of Sycae
more Hil."
I certainly do remember you, my fine f4-
low," said the young officer, shaking Russel cor-
dially by the hand-" and you have often been
in my thoughts since the delightful evening I
passed at your father's house. Mr. Campion, I
know, is with the northern army; but how are
your sisters, particularly my little friend Patty?"
Russel briefly replied to this question; and
then, earnestly and anxiously, expressed his de-
sire to be allowed to visit the camp, and to re-
main with the army till the battle was over. The
lieutenant, who was very young and replete with


war and patriotism, could see nothing objection.
able in his request; and putting Russel's arm
through his, he walked with him to the camp,
which was about a mile distant. Here Lieuten-
ant Arncliffe introduced him to his colonel, who
received him very kindly, and inquired his story,
which Russel concisely related. In truth, the
personal appearance of our juvenile hero was so
very prepossessing that he always made a favour-
able impression on strangers. He was indeed a
remarkably fine-looking boy, with a figure ath-
letic and symmetrical beyond his age; and with
uncommonly handsome features, expressive at
once of spirit, intelligence, and vivacity.
General Washington was absent on business
which he was unwilling to trust to any thing less
than his own personal observation: and it was on
this very evening that he was indebted to the hoe-
pitality of Josiah Parkins. Russel knew that the
residence of his uncle was at no great distance
from the camp; but he adhered firmly to his reso-
lution of not seeing his sisters till after the battle.
This was the first encampment on a large
scale, that Russel had ever visited; and his de-
light at a scene so animated and exhilarating
can only be conceived by minds as young and
as enthusiastic. His friend Lieutenant Arncliffe
pointed out to him the tent of the Marquis de la
Fayette, of whom they had a glimpse through
the half-open curtains, as he sat writing at his
table. I have no doubt," said Arnlife, "that
the marquis is now engaged in a letter to his wife,


in case he should not survive to-morrow."-
Rusel was touched; and he resolved to write to
his sisters, lest after this night, it should never be
in his power to address them again.
The drum now beat for the evening parade.
The soldiers came out from their tents, and as-
sembled in regular order. The line was formed;
and this evening all the officers were present,
including La Fayette, whose animated looks and
gestures, and the intense interest he seemed to
take in every thing around him, excited the warm
admiration of Rusuel, who felt that the noble
young Frenchman was indeed a chief to live
and die under."
The general-order, read at the close of the
parade, had reference entirely to the preparations
expedient for the combat of the morrow: and
that night, "when the drum beat the hour for
retiring," many lay down to repose themselves
whose next sleep was that of death.
At the earnest request of Gideon Gilpin, an
officer of the Delaware line, whose residence was
in the immediate vicinity of Chad's Ford, La
Fayette accompanied him home, and there pass-
ed the night previous to the battle.
Russel shared the tent and the supper of Lieu-
tenant Arneliffe. It was long before the novelty
of the situation, and his anticipations of the en-
suing day, allowed him to close his eyes. But
at last he fell into a profound slumber, which,
however, was not of long duration; for, so early
as while the last stars were still gleaming, he was


awakened by the drums and fifes, performing
the clear and enlivening notes of the reveillie.
It was still early morning when Washington re-
turned to the camp. On his arrival he held a
council with his officer, and some new arrange-
ments took place in consequence of the observa-
tions he had made, and the information he had
received while reconnoitering on the preceding
da he striking of the tents appeared to Rusel
almost like the effect ofmagic, so instantaneously
were they all levelled with the ground at the third
tap of the drum; the pins and cords having been
previously loosened, and the men standing by,
ready to let them fall at the moment of the sig-
nal Every thing was prepared to give the ene-
my a warm reception. The advanced guards of
the hostile armies were now within seven miles
of each other, still divided by the Brandywine
Creek, or river, as it would be called in Europe.
The sound of distant firing was heard through-
out the morning, and there was much skirmish-
ing before the battle became general. But it was
not till near noon that the principal attack was
made on the central division of the American
army, under the immediate command of Wash-
ington, whose antagonists were Howe, and the
Hesian general Knyphausen; while Cornwllis,
at the head of the second British column, made
a circuit round, and engaged General Sullivan
higher up the creek, in the neighbourhood of Bir-
mingham meeting-house.


But it is not our intention to enter into any
historical details of the Battle of llrandywine.
For these we refer our readers to the legitimate
annals of the revolutionary war. Glad shall we
be if our simple sketches of the domestic life and
manners of that memorable period can excite so
much interest in our young friends, as to awaken
in them a desire to acquaint themselves thor-
oughly and accurately with the leading events
and the leading characters to which we owe the
establishment of our glorious independence, and
the right to that most honourable ot all titles, the
children of freemen."
Russel being permitted by Lieutenant Arn-
cliffe to join the soldiers of his company, soon
found himself in the midst of the engagement;
and such was his excitement, that he scarcely, at
the time, gave a thought either to the dangers or
the horrors of the scene. Suddenly, while he
was wiping his perspiring brows with his hand-
kerchief, during a short pause in the fight, he
saw Tommy Tring emerging from the edge of
the woods, and heard him call out, Aha! I've
caught you at last. Better late than never.
Come with me directly to your sisters."
"Tommy Tring," replied Russel, "talk no
more nonsense on that subject. Wait till the
battle is over, and then I shall be glad to see the
girls again. But as for going to them now, I
shall certainly do no such thing."
There's no use in my going without you,
then," said Tommy, dismounting from his hore,


and hitching the bridle to a tree; so I may u
well stay here myself, and take my chance with
you. What's sas for the goose is sas for the
gander. I have een no great fighting since the
day that General Wolfe was killed in his best
coat, at the battle of Quebec. But where's Gen-
eral Washington 1"
There," answered Russel, pointing forward,
" there he is on the white horse. And there is
the Marquis de la Fayette, galloping along the
You may as well lend me that gun ofyourn,"
said Tommy. I shall do more good with it
than you. Being a practiced person-"
"Not I, indeed," interrupted RuseL "I
shall keep it in my own hands. I have just
loaded again."
You seem to think charity begins at home,"
said Tommy. "I did not believe you were so
selfish. Suppose we load and fire turn about 1"
"No," answered Rusel, "1 will not be gen-
erous with my gun ; I will keep it all to myselL"
Just let me see if there an't something the
matter with the lock," said Tommy; and taking
the gun suddenly from Rusel's hand, he dis-
charged it at a British soldier and shot the feather
from his cap, without the man's perceiving it.
The lock's all right," said Tommy; "the
proof of the pudding's in the eating."
"Now, Tommy," exclaimed Russel, snatch-
ing the gun away from him, you shall not do
that again. I will share anything else with you;


but my gun is for myself alone, till I can get a
better one."
"And when will that be said Tommy.
"What am I to do in the mean time A man
may catch cold while his coat's a making."
The best thing you can do," said Russel,
" is to quit the field-Think of your age, and
of your lameness."
"I won't," replied Tommy, I won't do no
such thing-I can be of some use teaching the
new-beginners. And what if I am killed-Dead
men pay no doctors."
The battle went on; and both Russel and
Tommy Tring were soon able to provide them-
selves with muskets and cartouch-boxes that had
belonged to the fallen. A shot of Russel took
effect on the shoulder of a British officer, who
immediately turned pale and fell from his horse
to the ground, where he lay motionless; stunned
by the fall, and bleeding profusely from tim
wound. At this sight Russel felt the deepest
regret and compunction. In a moment he wa*
beside the wounded officer, with Tommy Tring,
who ran as fast as he could, to assist him. "Now,
Tommy," said Russel, I command you to stay
with this man, and attend to him, as you know
"Why, Russel," said Tommy, "he's an Eeg-
lishman. Don't you see his red-coat He a's
only an Englishman."
Of course," replied Russel, "I know that
he's a British officer. But I do not wish even


an Englishman to suffer for want of assistance,
when he is wounded. So I desire you to take
care of him."
"What," exclaimed Tommy, now that I
am just beginning to feel a I did when I was
helping General Wolfe at the battle of Quebec-
am I to be put off with takin are of aq English
man, as if I wa fit for nothing ele. No, indeed
-I've other fish to fry."
"Listen to me," said Russel, laying his hand
on Tommy Tring's arm. "If you can manage
to save the life of this man, I will.take care,
should we all outlive this day, to see you reward-
ed with a purse full of Spanish dollars."
No money shall make me quit the field," re-
plied Tommy. "I care nothing about the pus.
Money is the root of all eviL"
Then," resumed Russel, "I will have a full
suit eut off for you, of that superfine brown broad-
cloth that you have been admiring at Robinson's
for the last three months. Think of the pleas-
ure of making it up yourself"
"The purplish brown said Tommy.
Yes, yes-the purplish brown," replied Rus-
sel; but come-make haste-there is no time
to be lost."
"Coat, waistcoat, and breechesr" pursued
A ree," replied Riuset-0 imagine your-
self ina fll suit of that purplish brown. So
now. let's convey this poor fellow to the woods,
and do you examine his wound and do the best


you can for him, and get one of the surgeons to
come and look at him as soon as possible."
"How dost thee do, Russel," cried a voice
from above. And looking up, they perceived
Isaac Parkins, who had just arrived, and had as-
cended a tree to take a comprehensive survey of
the scene before him. Russel did not waste any
time in asking Isaac what brought him thither,
supposing it perfectly natural that he should
come; but immediately put him in requisition
to assist in carrying the wounded Englishman
-into the woods.
As soon as they began to remove him, the
British officer opened his eyes, but seemed un-
conscious of every thing except the pain of his
wound. Russel was now much affected at what
he had done, and greatly compassionate the
sufferings of the Englishman. But he thought
that this was no time to indulge his feelings, and
consigning the wounded man to the care of
Tommy and Isaac, he was turning to hurry back
to the scene of action.
Stop, Russel," exclaimed Isaac, I intend
to go with thee. It's against my principles to
fight and take life; but to prove that I am no
coward, I will not keep out of danger."
There is no use," said Russel, in running
into danger if you don't fight. Nothing is ex-
pected of a Quaker boy. But, without fighting,
you may do a great deal of good. Therefore
try to find a surgeon, and bring him to this poor


Englishman; and you will have danger enough,
one way or other, before the day is over."
Russel hastened back to the chief place of
combat, where his intrepidity excited the admir-
ation of all who saw him, and his friend Ar-
clifie took an opportunity, as he passed rapidly
near him, to catch Rusel's hand and exclaim-
" Well done, my brave fellow-I knew the right
mettle was in you."
The battle was now beginning to go against
the Americans, overpowered as they were by the
superior numbers and skilful manoeuvres of their
more experienced enemy. But Russel caught a
new access of ardour as he beheld the noble La
Fayette, wherever the danger was greatest, en-
couraging the troops by his example, and rally-
ing those that had fallen into confusion. Sud-
denly the marquis stopped, and was instantly
concealed from view by a group of offers and
soldiers, who pressed round him with looks of
intense interest. Ruuel then learned that the
gallant young Frenchman had been wounded by
a musket-shot just below the knee, and that his
blood was then streaming in the cause of Amer-
ica. La Fayette, however, seemed to consider
the hurt as of no consequence, and refused to
quit the field. He took off his sash for a band-
age, the wound was bound up, and the marquis
continued as before, cheering and animating the
soldiers till he was compelled to retire.
Of the coolness and presence of mind always
evinced by Washington, and of the consummate


military skill with which he saved the retreating
army, (doing all that could be done by man to
retrieve the unforeseen disaster of the day) it is
needles to speak. t is enough to say that he
was there.
The last tie, during the battle, that Russel
Campion and Lieutnant Aracdie were together,
they were engaged in loadi and firing a can-
non, round which all the soldiers, in charge of it,
had fallen. They were then attacked by a party
of British grenadiers, and they defended them-
selves heroically. Arnoline fought till bli sword
was broken, and his right hand disabled by a
pistolebot; and he was finally carried off a pris-
oner; having first seen Russel laid at his feet
with repeated wounds, and looking as if life was
extinguished forever.

The niht bad set in, and the stars were spark-
ling over h head, when Ruel revived to con-
scioumss, and found himself extended on the
cold nd dewy gra-ss- mid the groan of the
dying, and blood of the slain.
That the battle had been lost was hi first
definite idea; his next thought was of his sisters
and his father, and of their anguish on learning
his fate: for he expected nothing else than to ex-
pire on the spot where he lay, alone and unas-
sited. He again relapeed into insensibility, and
when he recovered, the moon had risen, and he
found Tommy Tring throwing water in his face
from a canteen which he bad filled at a neigh.


boring brook, and Isaac Parkins supporting
his head, and crying and mobbing over him.
Wae a deadd" mid Rus, in a faint
"Yes, indeed," answered Tommy, "both de-
feated and treated. Might overomes right
But I'm glad to find you're not kil'd ded.
While there's life there's hope."
Oh, Russel exclaimed aa, I expect
thee's had enough of oldiering."
Now don't make him worm by finding fauk
with his sogering," said Tommy. "What's
done can't be undone. 'Ti bad enough for him
to bear the pain of his wound, without ltening
to quaker talk. Sick people d l-d- be
taken to tak about nothing, and all that i sid
to them should be agree and comforting.
Rusel, my dear boy, it was quite right and
proper for you to come to the batde, and just
what you ought to have done. And if you die
of thee hurts, it will be a gnt Mlrion for
you to know that you got your death by fighting
for Corape."
o ist will," said Ruel; but still I would
rather live to fight again for Congress And
then, if this btte had been a victory instead of
a defeat!"-
Hen his strength failed and he could My no
When Tommy and Isae had lat en Rus-
sel he had left in their care the offer that he
had wounded, and whom they had carried into


the adjacent woods. Tommy went in search of
his horse, to ride round among the neighboring
farmers, and see if he could obtain a shelter for
the unfortunate Briton, whose sufferings deeply
excited their compassion. But Tommy's horse,
frightened at the sound of the guns, had broken
*his bridle and ran away. Isaac was therefore
deputed to go on this errand, as Tommy's lame-
nes incapacitated him from much walking.
Isaac found every house already crowded with
the wounded; but at last a family of free negroes
consented to receive the British officer into their
cottage, and assisted in getting him carried thith-
er. A doctor was then obtained, who examined
the wound in the shoulder of the Englihman,and
pronounced it dangerous. The officer had also
been severely hurt by falling from his horse after
he received the shot.
This business occupied the remainder of the
afternoon, and it was dark when Isaac and Tom-
my returned to the field of battle, that being the
only place where they supposed it likely to find
Russel; and they accordingly commenced the
painful and indeed shocking task of seeking him
among the dead and the dying.
They had constructed in the woods a sort of
litter or hand-barrow, of the branches of trees,
and after finding Rusel and talking with him as
above, they went back to fetch it, with the inten-
tion of carrying him away. They had brought
with them from the cottage a black man, who


was now looking about in another prt of the
When they returned to the place wh they
had left Rusel, the bleeding of whose wounds
had been checked by the chillness of the might-
air, they saw that he had raised himself on one
arm to look at two women, who were souling
and scolding near him. "I am glad you are
come," said Russel; I hae been trying in
vain to collect strength enough to rie and part
these women. I never saw such awkward fht
ing-It is nearly all scratching faces and puing
hair. Do prt them. I see that one of them is
my old friend Waoonsa."
The negro man now came up, and with his
assistance the combatants were parted, though
not without great opposition from one of them,
who was drest in a ragged black stuf gown and
a soldier's long red coat, under which was tied
a check apron; her head being covered with a
tattered night-cap, surmounted with an old cock-
ed hat. They found her to be an Englishw n
of the very lowest order; such as follow the amy,
and are in the practice of prowling at nigt
over the field of battle, to plunder the dead and
the wounded, frequently destroying whatever re-
mains of life they may find in the latter.
This woman had come up to Ruael, and knelt
beside him with the intention of searching for his
money, suppose him to be dead; but he started
immediately, and mad some resistance She
then stretched out her hand to take up a bayonet

100 RUssL. AND sIDNIY.

that lay at a little distance, but in a moment she
was pulled back and nearly overset by Wasoon-
sa, whose curiosity had brought her to the field.
The soldier-woman started on her feet; and with
a horrible oath, seized Wasonsa and struck her.
The squaw was not backward in returning the
blow; and the fight was raging furiously when
they were parted, as before-mentioned. The
Englishwoman then went off, muttering dreadful
imprecations; and they proceeded to put Russel
on the litter, intending to convey him to the cot-
tage of the free negroes.
"Wasconsa," said Rusel, holding out his
hand to her, "I believe you have saved my life.
I would rather take my chance with twenty Brit-
ish soldiers, than with one such woman as that."
"I have saved your lif," said Wasoonsa,
"and you must pay me for it."
"Oh shame, shame !" exclaimed Tommy
"Wiaonsa," aid Ieaae, I did not think
thee so mean."
He that calls me mean is a dog," replied
Wasconsa, indignantly. "Was not a chief my
father Russel, have you forgotten, that two
winters ago, I came to Sycamore Hill; and that
I had the best seat at Squire Campion's table,
and that you all listened to my stories of my own
people, and were pleased. And when I got the
rheumatism, and was in pain, did not your sis-
ters nurse me and rub me with campfire And
when I was tired of white people's victuals, and

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