OA* 
 
 Jiundred years Ago, 
 
 kr 
 J(cnry Peterson
 
 PEMBERTON 
 
 ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO
 
 QncJ&ndred cVear^s 
 
 nsort 
 
 n Winston 0.
 
 Entered according to the Act of Congress, In the year 1872, 
 
 BY HENRY PETERSON. 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899, 
 BY WALTER PETERSON.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER. 
 
 I. The Surprise ...... ' 
 
 IL Moll of the Hatchet . . *4 
 
 III. The Battle in the Mist 2 5 
 
 IV. Captain Andre ...... 3 1 
 
 V. A Woman's Will ..... 4I 
 
 VI. The Wissahickon ..... 4& 
 
 VII. The Deserters ...... 74 
 
 VIII. Phil. Morris ...... 8z 
 
 IX. The Dream of Andre 86 
 
 X. The Fortune-Teller ..... 9 8 
 
 XI. The Quaker Preacher . . "4 
 
 XII. Pro and Con ...... J 3 
 
 XIII. Plots and Counterplots . . . . H* 
 
 XIV. Parting ...... ..." I55 
 
 2137S16 
 
 111
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER. PAGE. 
 
 XV. A Daring Raid 160 
 
 XVI. Hail to the Chief 166 
 
 XVII. The Mischianza 171 
 
 XVIII. An Uninvited Guest . . . .176 
 
 PART II. 
 
 I. Arnold the Hero 195 
 
 II. A Charm . . . . . . 208 
 
 III. The Mob 211 
 
 IV. The Spy 217 
 
 V. Helen and Arnold 228 
 
 VI. Captain Fanny Again .... 236 
 
 VII. Arnold the Traitor 245 
 
 VIII. A New Scheme 251 
 
 IX. Shall I do It . . . . .256 
 
 X. The Ball ...... 264 
 
 XL Running the Gauntlet . . . .281 
 
 XII. Planning Treason . . 289 
 
 PART III. 
 
 I. A Change of Scene .... 295 
 
 II. The Midnight Conference . . . 304 
 
 III. The Price of Treason . . . .315 
 
 IV. A Perilous Journey . . . . 3 I 9
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 CHAPTER. 
 
 V. For the Third Time . . 3 2 4 
 
 VI. On the Way 3 2 7 
 
 VII. The Arrest of Andre . . 33 2 
 
 VIII. Breaking the News 344 
 
 IX. Pemberton and Washington . . 35 
 
 X. Crushed by the Blow . . . -357 
 
 XI. Pemberton and Andre . . . 3 62 
 
 XII. Captain Fanny's Plan . . . . 37 2 
 
 XIII. The Death of Andre . . 37 6 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Five Years After 3 Sl 
 
 Conclusion 3^9
 
 PEMBERTON. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE SURPRI S E. 
 
 Oh, peaceful earth oh, patient, green-browed earth- 
 Sad mother of the whirlwind and the storm. 
 
 IT is a morning in October, in the year 1777. Early 
 morning for the sun has not yet risen, though the heralds 
 of his imperial coming are seen flushing with their crimson 
 and purple banners the eastern sky. The earth, too, seems 
 to respond with a regal pomp of banners. Crimson, melt- 
 ing at one place into a rich brown, flashing in another into 
 a living flame, and harmoniously blending everywhere 
 with the deep green of the cedar and the hemlock, is all 
 around us. The glory of the earth rivals that of the sunlit 
 sky. For, as we have said, it is October ; and we are in 
 Pennsylvania, the wooded land of Penn. 
 
 Two young ladies, arrayed in riding costume, are stand- 
 ing before an open window, in an upper chamber of a large 
 stone mansion. Their room being open only to the north 
 and the west, they have caught but faint glimpses of the 
 glory of the sunrise but the glory of the earth-rise from 
 darkness into light, is spread widely before them. The 
 
 7
 
 ,8 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 coolness of the morning air, which, though a little raw to 
 those of maturer years, comes pleasantly upon their faces, 
 glowing with the rich, warm blood of youth, also is like 
 wine unto their buoyant spirits. Let us listen to what they 
 are saying. 
 
 " Do you know what first came into my mind, Bel, when 
 that fierce * rap, rap, rap, ' sounded on our door this morn- 
 ing ? ' ' said the younger of the two, a maiden apparently 
 of some twenty summers. 
 
 "Yes that the enemy were upon us. That made you 
 spring out of bed in such a fright," said the elder sister, 
 mischievously. 
 
 "Fright! and I the daughter of a Scottish colonel! 
 You are joking, Bella. No, I thought we were again 
 schoolgirls, among the nuns of Bethlehem. 
 
 " ' Sing a song of sixpence, 
 
 Pocket full of tow, 
 Sixty single bedsteads 
 All in a row.' 
 
 " Oh, but we had high old times in Bethlehem, Bel. I 
 wish sometimes we were back again, among the simple- 
 minded sisters." 
 
 " Well I cannot say, Helen, that I do." 
 
 "Of course not Pemberton ! " 
 
 "Andre." 
 
 " Nonsense, Bel I have not seen Captain Andre 1 more 
 than a dozen or twenty times in my life. But let us take one 
 look more, and then go down. Uncle must be waiting." 
 
 "This is a beautiful place to live in, Helen is it not? 
 3ee how finely the walks are laid out, with their marble 
 vases and statues. And what a glorious view one has to 
 the west, over the valley of the Wissahickon ! Where are 
 the Chews now?" 
 
 "I think the judge has been sent to Virginia you
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 9 
 
 know he is no more sound in the faith than old ' Cousin ' 
 Pemberton; he cannot quite swallow the Independence 
 declaration. He would not even give his parole to the 
 rebels. I suppose the ladies are with him. They are 
 brilliant girls." 
 
 " Had we not better go down now? " 
 
 " Stay one moment. Do you see that gray mist how 
 curiously it sweeps down upon us from the north. One 
 might almost take it for the sweeping onward of a hostile 
 army. I am afraid we shall have a dull morning after all, 
 for our ride to town. See, how rapidly it comes before 
 it all light and sunshine; behind it all darkness and 
 gloom." 
 
 " Hark ! did you hear that? " cried Isabella, excitedly. 
 
 A dull report was heard, as if of a pistol, or distant 
 musket. 
 
 ** It is an attack ! " cried Helen, when this was followed 
 by a loud report, as of a field-piece, and then by the dis- 
 tant roll of a drum, beating to arms. 
 
 " Girls ! " called a deep voice at the door of the room ; 
 and then the door was pushed open, and, seeing them at- 
 tired, an elderly man, in the uniform of a British colonel 
 entered, and joined them at the window. 
 
 "What is it, uncle?" exclaimed both, almost in a 
 breath. 
 
 "It is an attack it may be in force. It is a bad busi- 
 ness, girls, having you here." 
 
 " Do not be alarmed for us, uncle. We will give you 
 no trouble," said Isabella, proudly. 
 
 " If it is in force, we must march at once," said Colonel 
 Musgrave, as if communing with himself. " And it sounds 
 so ' ' as volley after volley of musketry broke upon his 
 ears. "But there comes one of Simcoe's dragoons," he 
 exclaimed, as a horseman rode up in hot haste, sword flash-
 
 10 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 ing, and helmet glittering. " Come down, girls, we shall 
 learn something definite now. ' ' 
 
 They hurried through the almost unfurnished house, 
 and down to the front door-steps where the dragoon had 
 reined up. 
 
 " Colonel the rebels are on us. It was almost a sur- 
 prise. They have our camp. But we are holding them 
 back." 
 
 "How many? in force?" 
 
 " The whole of Washington's army, I was bid to tell 
 you." 
 
 "Wait one moment, girls," cried the colonel, as he 
 sprang around the house, in the rear of which his regiment 
 was encamped. Soon the roll of the drum was heard, and 
 the silence of an orderly encampment gave place to loud 
 commands and the bustle of military preparation. 
 
 " I must lead the regiment at once to the support of the 
 light infantry," said Colonel Musgrave, as he again joined 
 his wards. " Can you risk riding to town alone or how 
 would it do to ride to headquarters ! That is only about 
 a couple of miles off. ' ' 
 
 "If it were not for this mist, which has closed upon us 
 so quickly, we could easily do either," replied Isabella. 
 
 "Why cannot we remain here?" said Helen. "We 
 shall be near you, uncle and there may be wounded men 
 to care for. We are not cowards." 
 
 " No ; I know you are not. But I should feel far easier 
 in my mind if I knew you were in safety, and not exposed 
 to those perils which always hang around contending 
 armies. As to this house, if the enemy is in force, it will 
 not long be a place of safety, l have sent word to Howe 
 but the advance of the rebels must be delayed as long as 
 possible, in order to give time for him to get in position ; 
 and this mansion will make a capital fort, if need be."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. II 
 
 Colonel Musgrave spoke rapidly and excitedly as if 
 anxious to be at his post. 
 
 " Well, uncle, do not fear for us ; we will mount and 
 ride, either to town or to headquarters, as may seem best," 
 said Isabella. 
 
 " Who shall I send with you?" 
 
 " Nobody we can protect ourselves for that distance." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right. A British uniform would be 
 as apt to draw as to ward off a rebel bullet. And, rebels 
 though the colonists be, they are not given to shooting at 
 women. But come in and take a cup of coffee to brace 
 yourselves up with." 
 
 A cup of coffee and some slices of bread were hastily 
 swallowed, and then the young ladies mounted their horses 
 the colonel at the same time springing on his horse. 
 
 " Girls, you know the way?" 
 
 "Very well," said Isabella "even in this mist." 
 
 "You had better, it seems to me, not try to go down 
 the Main road. It may by this time be sprinkled with 
 the rebel troopers. I should advise you to strike over to 
 the east, to the Limekiln road, and make your way down 
 it. You know that, about a mile down, you can either 
 strike into Germantown again, at the market place, or, if 
 you hear firing in that direction, turn to the east once 
 more, and follow the New York road to the city. If any- 
 thing looks dangerous, take refuge in some private house 
 nobody will refuse protection to two lorn damsels in dis- 
 tress. But let me know at once, after the battle, where 
 you are." 
 
 Colonel Musgrave had spoken rapidly for his men had 
 already left their encampment, with the exception of one 
 company, which seemed to await further orders, and the 
 roar of battle swelled louder and louder in his ears. Now
 
 12 PEMBERTON; 
 
 he passed his hand rapidly over his eyes, and said in a 
 slower, softer tone : 
 
 "And, girls, remember, if anything should happen to 
 your old uncle, that he loved you very dearly, and, next to 
 his king and country, would have died for you. ' ' 
 
 Touching her horse with the whip, Helen was in a mo- 
 ment by the colonel's side bending from her saddle to 
 throw an arm around his neck, and to kiss his lips. 
 " Uncle, let me stay with you to live or die with you I" 
 exclaimed she. 
 
 "Yes, uncle do not drive us away from you," chimed 
 in Isabella. " Dearest and best of friends heaven knows 
 how good and kind you have always been to us. ' ' 
 
 "You quite make a child of me, my dear girls," said 
 the colonel, wiping his eyes once more. " And how fool- 
 ish it all is ! This is not my first, nor my fifth battle, as 
 you well know. I came out of the others safely, and I 
 mean to come safely out of this. But, if you do not go, 
 and at once, I shall fight this battle with a heavy and 
 troubled heart. Hear how the roar of the battle deepens ! 
 It is coming nearer. If you go at once, I do not think 
 there is any great amount of danger but, if you stay, I 
 know not what to do with you." 
 
 "We will go at once then," said Isabella, turning her 
 horse's head to the south. "And may heaven preserve 
 you best of benefactors and friends !" 
 
 "Stay," said the colonel taking a pistol from its hol- 
 ster, and half smiling, notwithstanding the seriousness of 
 the occasion. " Will either of you have this?" 
 
 "No, I thank you," replied Isabella, smiling in turn. 
 " I will trust to the usual womanly weapons, and to the 
 chivalry of men." 
 
 "Give it to me, then," cried Helen, impulsively. 
 " Would I were a man to go with you, uncle, and not be
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 13 
 
 shipped off as an incumbrance in this fashion. Is it ready 
 for use ?' ' 
 
 " Be careful with it, Helen my servant always sees to 
 it every morning. It will not fail you, if required," re- 
 plied the Colonel. " But I can stay no longer. May the 
 all-seeing God guide and keep you!" Putting spurs to 
 his horse, Colonel Musgrave rode rapidly to the rear of 
 the house gave orders to the captain of the company he 
 had held in reserve, to occupy the mansion, to barricade 
 the doors and lower windows, and arrange everything for 
 a vigorous defence if such should be necessary and then 
 dashed off after his regiment. 
 
 By this time the mist had so closed around, as to render 
 it impossible to see more than twenty or thirty yards dis- 
 tance, and that imperfectly. Judging from the noise of 
 the conflict however the continual rattle of musketry, the 
 cries and shouts, and the occasional roar of field-pieces 
 the battle was rapidly rolling down toward the mansion. 
 This proved that the British were still giving ground. Oc- 
 casional musket shots were also beginning to be heard on 
 the Main road or street of the village, upon which, at a 
 distance of several hundred feet, the building fronted. 
 And it was evident to the young ladies that the sooner 
 they started, the greater was their chance of effecting their 
 ride in safety.
 
 14 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MOLL OF THE HATCHET. 
 
 MORTON. This is a cruel hag 1 
 PIETKO. Indeed, my lord, 
 
 You well may say so. 
 
 WELL acquainted with the roads, and with the lanes 
 as all the shorter and narrower roads were appropriately 
 called in that section of the country the young ladies 
 rode as rapidly as the misty obscurity would permit, in a 
 southern direction through a farm path, to a lane which is 
 now called by the name of Washington, but which then 
 doubtless had some local designation. Helen had con- 
 cealed the pistol her uncle had given her, in one of the 
 large pockets worn at that day, and notwithstanding the 
 possible difficulties of their situation, the spirits of the sis- 
 ters seemed to rise as their high mettled steeds chafed 
 under the curb which it was necessary to hold upon them. 
 
 "Pshaw! would I were a man!" said Helen. "I 
 should like to fire one good shot at least for my king and 
 stand by Uncle Musgrave in the thick of the battle. We 
 are but an insignificant tribe, we women, Bella." 
 
 "Well, for one woman, I am quite satisfied with my 
 natural position," replied Isabella. "Why did you take 
 that pistol ? I declare I am afraid you will shoot me with 
 it yet. I am glad that you have it on the other side of 
 you. Take care you do not pull the trigger without mean- 
 ing to." 
 
 " Never fear, sister mine. I have shot off a pistol before 
 this. Captain Andr6 gave me a whole hour's practice, 
 down at Gray's Ferry, one afternoon. But here is the 
 road, is it not? Yes, there is the gate, lying in the 
 road. What would the Chews say if they were here, and
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 15 
 
 could see their beautiful country-place now gates and 
 fences down in all directions." 
 
 " They are just as well off as their neighbors. I scarcely 
 think there is a single farm fence standing in German town. 
 What with the Hessian huts, and all the soldiers' fuel, the 
 farms and country-seats seem to be pretty well stripped. 
 But, as you say, we turn toward the east here." 
 
 "If it were not for this mist we could canter to head- 
 quarters in half an hour," said Helen. 
 
 "Yes, in less time but do take care, Helen; the ground 
 is boggy near that stream," said Isabella, as they were 
 crossing one of the little so-called creeks with which that 
 part of the country is favored streams which are seldom 
 dry, even in the greatest heats of summer. 
 
 Slowly the young ladies rode on, the noise of the battle 
 growing fainter as they rode. But they had not gone 
 much more than a mile, before the quick ear of Helen 
 caught a noise in front of them. " What is that, Bel? Do 
 you hear it ? " 
 
 " Stop a minute," said her sister. They had just ridden 
 through a piece of woods, and they now gazed and listened 
 intently. "It is the tramp and clatter of a regiment," 
 said Helen. "They are going down the Limekiln road. 
 What does it mean ? ' ' 
 
 " It means they are the Americans marching to attack 
 the British right wing," replied Isabella, in a low voice, 
 her face whitening a little. 
 
 "We do not want to travel in that company," said 
 Helen, defiantly. 
 
 " No. We must turn back. And quickly, too. I vow 
 some of them are coming this way. Perhaps they mean to 
 attack the Fortieth." 
 
 Wheeling their horses the young ladies rode back upon 
 their track, and more rapidly too than they had come.
 
 1 6 PEMBERTONJ 
 
 " What shall we do, sis? " said Helen. 
 
 "Wait a moment let us see first how things stand." 
 
 They could not see, but they could soon hear how things 
 stood. The large stone house they had left, then sleeping 
 peacefully in its gray curtains of mist, was now a fortress, 
 belching forth shot and smoke. Colonel Musgrave was 
 evidently doing his devoir bravely, as a soldier true to his 
 king. And other men, equally brave and true, and wiser 
 in their day and generation, evidently were doing their 
 devoir also with ball and bullet. 
 
 Despite the peril, Helen's cheeks flushed. " The For- 
 tieth is holding back the whole of Washington's army," 
 cried she, exultingly. " Give me the Scottish blood after 
 all, in the hour " 
 
 Her sentence was suddenly cut short by a cannon-ball, 
 which struck the trunk of a large chestnut-tree not twenty 
 feet from them, and rolled on the ground at the feet of 
 their horses. The spirited animals, already excited by the 
 deepening roar of the battle, sprung and reared, until it 
 required all the skill of the fair riders practised horse- 
 women though they were to reduce them to subjection. 
 
 " What shall we do, Bel? This is getting a little too 
 exciting here. We cannot go back to the house the 
 Main road is evidently full of rebels and behind us are 
 more of the same sort. Speak quick." 
 
 " The fences are all down let us take to the fields, and 
 push through them to the British lines. Of course there 
 is some risk but there is more in staying here," replied 
 Isabella. 
 
 The good sense of the suggestion was so evident, that at 
 the word "fields," Helen had turned her horse's head to 
 the south, and rode into the open fields commons as they 
 now seemed, in their desolation. They could still see only 
 a very little distance around them not more than suf-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 17 
 
 ficient to enable them to keep the general direction in 
 which they wished to go while on the Main road, which 
 ran parallel with their course, they could hear scattering 
 shots which told that the advance of the Americans had 
 passed Chew's house, and was pressing down upon the 
 British centre. 
 
 It was rather a trying position for young ladies who had 
 been carefully and even elegantly nurtured ; but, as the old 
 proverb has it, "blood will tell," and these were Gra- 
 hams daughters of a race that had proved its courage and 
 endurance on many a hard-fought field ; and what is more, 
 in the cottage of the exile, and on the scaffold of the pro- 
 scribed and the outlawed. 
 
 It would have seemed less trying even could they have 
 put their horses into a wild gallop but now that they had 
 left the road, the danger of stumbling in the mist over 
 empty post-holes, and partially removed fences, necessi- 
 tated the greatest watchfulness. And, therefore, although 
 they could hear the rattle of buckshot occasionally in the 
 leaves of the trees under which they passed, they had to 
 make progress slowly. 
 
 " Don't ride over that wounded horse ! " at length sud- 
 denly exclaimed Helen to her sister. 
 
 Isabella pulled up hastily for directly before her the 
 animal was lying evidently the horse of a soldier from the 
 military equipments. 
 
 "I wonder where the rider is?" said she, in a sympa- 
 thizing tone. 
 
 "There look there what does that mean?" cried 
 Helen. 
 
 A wounded officer, dressed in the Continental blue and 
 buff, was lying on the ground, apparently interposing as 
 much resistance as possible, to the plundering efforts of a 
 brawny Irish woman, who with a bag by her side, and a
 
 1 8 PEMBERTON; 
 
 hatchet in her hand, was tugging at his coat to get it off 
 his shoulders, careless of the pain she inflicted. As the 
 ladies rode up, they heard her say, 
 
 "Be aisy now, you ribil, or I'll split yer head with 
 my hatchet as I've sarved many a better looking lad nor 
 you." 
 
 " Moll of the hatchet," said Isabella, in a low voice to 
 her sister. "It must be she." 
 
 The woman, looking up, suddenly perceived them. 
 "What are the likes of ye doin' here ?" she exclaimed 
 hoarsely. "This is a swate place for the gintry, sure." 
 
 "My good woman," said Isabella, "you certainly are 
 not robbing or hurting that wounded soldier ! " 
 
 "He isn't a wounded soger, he's a baste of a ribil. 
 Ride on wid ye, or it'll be the wus for you. Ride on, I 
 say." 
 
 Moll of the hatchet, for it was indeed she, whose bad 
 fame as a cruel robber of the wounded had spread through 
 both armies, now rose to her feet, and shaking her hatchet 
 menacingly, again hoarsely bade them ride onward. 
 
 "Not a step!" indignantly exclaimed Isabella; "are 
 you not ashamed of yourself, you, a woman, to maltreat a 
 wounded and, perhaps, a dying man ? ' ' 
 
 " There's no use talking with such vile Irish trash," ex- 
 claimed Helen, her haughty blood flaming in her face, as 
 she cut her horse with the whip, and forced him between 
 Moll and the wounded man, nearly overturning the woman. 
 Then flinging her whip to the ground, and pulling out her 
 pistol, and cocking it, she presented it full at Moll's face, 
 exclaiming, " Now, by the good Lord above us, if you do 
 not at once drop that hatchet, and leave this place, I will 
 blow your cruel brains out ! ' ' 
 
 Moll hesitated though her face blanched, as her eyes 
 looked down the muzzle of the pistol.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 19 
 
 "Down with your hatchet, I say!" said Helen, in the 
 suppressed tones of deep passion. "One moment more, 
 and I shoot." 
 
 The hatchet fell to the ground. 
 "Now, leave this spot at once !" 
 "By the holy Pathrick she's the divil of an angel, or 
 the angel of a divil," said Moll, in a half stupor, taking 
 up her bag to depart. 
 
 "Put down that bag!" said Helen, the pistol again 
 bearing on Moll. 
 The bag fell. 
 
 "Now go and at once!" the pistol still lowering 
 the light, firm finger on the trigger. 
 
 "By the holy divil !" muttered Moll to herself, as she 
 tramped off glancing occasionally behind, to see the pis- 
 tol still following her, until the mist hid her from view. 
 
 "That pistol was a friend in need after all, sis," said 
 Helen, demurely. 
 
 "You are my brave and noble sister; and your taking 
 the pistol was an inspiration from heaven," replied Isa- 
 bella, gazing admiringly upon her. ' ' But what are we to 
 do now ? We cannot leave this rescued knight lying here, 
 perhaps to be murdered by that vile hag, perhaps to die 
 from want of proper attention to his wound. There must 
 be some house near, into which he could be taken." 
 
 " There are plenty of houses, here and there, along the 
 Main road ; suppose you go and see if you cannot bring 
 help from one of them, while I remain here on guard with 
 my pistol." 
 
 " I hate to go and leave you alone." 
 "And I hate to see you go alone. But what can we 
 do?" 
 
 The case was so clear, that Isabella turned her horse 
 toward the Main road, in quest of a dwelling. She soon
 
 20 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 came to the rear of a medium-sized stone building, and 
 riding up to the kitchen door, beat it lustily with the butt 
 of her riding-whip. But no one seemed to be within. 
 Dismounting, she fastened her horse to a part of the gar- 
 den fence which remained standing, and pushed open the 
 door. Entering, she nearly stumbled over a masculine 
 form, lying extended just inside the threshold. 
 
 " Bress de Lord ! Bress de Lord !" the white black lips 
 of a prostrate negro were ejaculating. 
 
 "Where is your master?" demanded Isabella. 
 " Bress de Lord he am down in de cellur," replied the 
 negro. 
 
 Opening the cellar door, Isabella called aloud 
 "Halloo the house!" 
 
 A step was heard on the stairs, and soon a tall, gaunt 
 form in Quaker costume, presented itself. 
 "What does thee want?" said the figure. 
 "Is the cellar the usual sitting-room in Germantown?" 
 inquired Isabella, sarcastically. 
 
 " No, not the usual one. But thee sees when bullets 
 come visiting unexpectedly, they are apt to put quiet house- 
 keepers out" and the Quaker, whose face denoted a fond- 
 ness for quaint humor and sly jokes, gave a little laugh. 
 "But what does thee wish has thee come to spend a 
 quiet day with Uncle Seth and Aunt Hannah ?' ' 
 
 In a few words Isabella made known her errand. And 
 to do Seth justice, now that good was to be done, he mani- 
 fested very little fear either of cannon-ball or bullet. 
 Raising the trembling negro to his feet, and giving him a 
 good shaking to restore his mental and physical equili- 
 brium, they both proceeded, led by Isabella, to the relief 
 of the wounded officer. 
 
 "There are a good many Quakers about Germantown, 
 I believe," said Isabella, as they walked on.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 21 
 
 " Yes, and a good many quakers, just now, who do not 
 belong to the Society of Friends," replied Seth. " Now, 
 here's this darkey, Juba he's been the worst kind of a 
 quaker, ever since he heard the first gun fired. But 
 there's another of you, is there?" added he, as they ap- 
 proached Helen, who had returned the pistol to her 
 pocket, dismounted from her horse, and was now bending 
 over the wounded man. 
 
 She said he had been apparently conscious for a mo- 
 ment, when she had unloosed the tie around his neck, but 
 had soon sunk again into unconsciousness. 
 
 "Fainted from loss of blood," said Seth and taking 
 the wounded officer carefully by the shoulders, while the 
 negro supported his feet, they carried him to the house. 
 The sisters accompanied them one leading her horse, the 
 other carrying the hatchet and the partially filled bag, 
 which the Irish woman had left behind her. 
 
 When they entered the house, Seth deposited his inani- 
 mate burden on a settee, and said briskly to a kind-look- 
 ing woman of middle age, who had come up from her 
 place of safety to see what was going on : 
 
 " Now, mother here's a wounded soldier. Bring down 
 some quilts, while I see where he is hurt. Was he thrown 
 from his horse, at the time he was wounded?" 
 
 " Indeed I do not know we were not present he is a 
 perfect stranger to us," replied Isabella. 
 
 The Quaker looked as astonished as one of his composed 
 sect could be expected to. 
 
 " I thought he was your brother, or friend," said he. 
 
 "No, we came across him accidentally," rejoined Isa- 
 bella and then briefly narrated who they were, and how 
 they had left their uncle to seek a place of safety, and their 
 encounter with the female marauder saying nothing of 
 the pistol however.
 
 22 PEMBERTON; 
 
 "And so you persuaded Moll to give up her prey, and 
 leave her hatchet and her plunder ? Well, I never ! 
 But," and here his face brightened, "ah, I see a little 
 silver or gold will do a great deal. Money makes even 
 such vicious mares as Moll go." 
 
 During his remarks however, Seth had not been idle. 
 He had examined into the condition of the wounded 
 man's shoulder, which was the injured place, and was now 
 about pouring some Jamaica rum into a cup. While 
 the officer, on his part, manifested symptoms of returning 
 consciousness. 
 
 "It is not an artery," said Seth, "that seems certain. 
 The blood has clotted and stopped itself and I will not 
 remove the linen which sticks to it, because I might set it 
 going again. When he swallows a spoonful of this good 
 liquor, I think he'll feel stronger." 
 
 As the officer's face assumed a more natural hue, Seth 
 started, and looked at him earnestly. Then he exclaimed, 
 "Why, mother, look here! Is not this our Stephen's 
 friend, Lefttenant Morris of McLane's troop? It is, 
 surely." 
 
 "Of course it is," said his wife, "I wonder thee did 
 not see it was, at first." 
 
 "I suppose I ought to, but then my wits were wool- 
 gathering in a very different direction." 
 
 "Now," said Isabella to her sister, "as the gentleman 
 seems to be doing well, and is among his friends, perhaps 
 we had better pursue our ride." 
 
 "What!" said the Quaker matron. "You do not 
 mean to go out among those dreadful soldiers !" 
 
 Seth stepped outside of the kitchen door. " Come 
 here," he said to Isabella. " Hear that !" 
 
 The noise of musketry, which had been only faintly 
 heard for the past half-hour, was evidently swelling up
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 23 
 
 again, not only to the north of them, at Chew's house, but 
 to the south, in the direction of the British headquarters, 
 and between themselves and Philadelphia. 
 
 "If you ride either north or south, you ride into the 
 fire," said Seth. " Now take an old man's counsel. Re- 
 main here in comparative safety. In perfect safety, if 
 you choose to go below, into the cellar," he added slyly. 
 
 Helen shook her head to the last proposition, disdain- 
 fully. 
 
 "Well, in this back room, with the front of the house 
 closed, you are comparatively safe ; and near to your uncle 
 besides. I will put your horses in the stable, where they 
 will take their chances with my horse the only one they've 
 left me. Mother will manage to find us something to eat 
 for dinner if we're alive to eat it and when this horri- 
 ble affair comes to a conclusion, as I suppose it soon must, 
 one way or the other, you can mount, and ride wherever 
 you think best. ' ' 
 
 "Indeed you are very kind," said Isabella. "We dis- 
 like to trouble you " 
 
 " Not a particle of trouble, my dear," interrupted Mrs. 
 Williams. " Come up-stairs now; I know you would like 
 to fix a little;" and she led the way, while the young 
 ladies smilingly followed. 
 
 At this juncture, the wounded officer drew a deep breath 
 and opened his eyes. Gazing around him for a moment, 
 he said in a faint voice, "Why, Uncle Seth, I did reach 
 here, after all. I was wounded down below, and thought 
 I should never get to you. What a dream I have had ! I 
 thought I was dead, and a fiend and an angel were fight- 
 ing over my body, to see which should have me ! ' ' and 
 the young man smiled faintly. 
 
 " Hem ! thee is all right but thee had better not talk 
 any more just now, but turn over and go to sleep. Mo-
 
 24 PEMBERTON; 
 
 ther is a splendid nurse, and I'm as good as a doctor; and, 
 if thee minds what we say, thee'll get well before many 
 weeks, I warrant. ' ' 
 
 The young man closed his eyes, and seemed to obey 
 very easily the advice given him. While Seth turned his 
 face toward Juba, who sat, observant of all that was going 
 on, in the corner of the fireplace, and saw the latter's 
 white ivories illuminating the blackness of his visage from 
 ear to ear. 
 
 "What is thee grinning about?" said Seth, severely 
 "go out at once, and stable those horses." 
 
 Then he sat down in a chair, and seemed to enjoy some- 
 thing himself hugely, though in a very quiet, subdued and 
 decorous Quaker fashion. 
 
 " Well, I suppose young men will be young men, to the 
 end of the chapter," said he at length to himself, appar- 
 ently as the result of his meditations
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BATTLE IN THE MIST. 
 
 MORTON. How went the battle 1 
 PIETRO. Excellent, my lord; 
 
 We did not all we set about to do, 
 But then we gave the braggart enemy 
 A most uncommon scare. 
 
 WE avail ourselves of this pause in our narrative, to 
 sketch in a few words the main features of the battle which 
 came so unexpectedly, like a summer thunderstorm, upon 
 Col. Musgrave and his fair visitors. 
 
 Lying on the Germantown or Skippack road, at a dis- 
 tance of about six miles from Philadelphia, the village of 
 Germantown extended in a line of scattered stone houses, 
 for about two miles in a northwesterly direction. 
 
 Across the centre of the village, where the road was 
 widened for the erection of a market-house, the British 
 army lay stretched like some huge bird of prey some 
 vulture, or some condor of the desert measuring 
 about four miles from the tip of one huge wing on 
 the New York road, to the tip of the other on the 
 Schuylkill. 
 
 But the weight of the body lay in the centre, directly in 
 and around the market place, where its iron beak and 
 talons in the shape of a splendid park of artillery 
 were lying ready to tear and rend whenever the occasion 
 offered. 
 
 In front, to secure the army against surprise, were a de- 
 tachment of light infantry at Mount Airy, and the Fortieth 
 regiment, under Col. Musgrave, at Chew's House with 
 other detachments in equally available positions. 
 
 The British force had been weakened by the detaching 
 of three thousand men, comprising the elite of the army,
 
 26 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 to garrison Philadelphia, and make glad the hearts of the 
 loyal in that important city. Another force also had been 
 detached against the American defences on the Delaware. 
 And well aware of these movements, after having been 
 himself reinforced by fresh troops from New Jersey and 
 Maryland, Washington determined to strike a blow at 
 Sir William Howe, even in the midst of his fancied 
 security. 
 
 The plan of the American attack was well conceived and 
 daring. It was to make a night march, to cut off the British 
 sentries before daybreak at the advanced post at Mount 
 Airy, so that they could not give the alarm to break like 
 a tornado upon the light infantry and Col. Musgrave's 
 regiment, driving them as chaff before the wind and thus 
 fall upon the British main line at the centre of the town, 
 while it was wholly or partially unprepared. 
 
 Gen. Greene was to co-operate with this movement, by 
 marching down the Limekiln road, which led to the front 
 of the British right wing, to take it also unprepared, and 
 drive all before him to the same central point, the 
 market-house. Thus the right wing would either be 
 divided or broken, the centre overwhelmed by sheer 
 weight of numbers, and the left wing thrown back 
 against the Schuylkill river, with a victorious army be- 
 tween it and Philadelphia, and doomed to surrender at 
 discretion. 
 
 The plan was an admirable one, and only needed good 
 soldiers, good fortune and a rapid execution. But the 
 night was dark, the roads were bad, and by the time the 
 attack was to be begun, day had dawned, and the British 
 encampments were awake and stirring. Captain McLane, 
 to whose daring enterprise had been intrusted the duty of 
 quietly capturing or killing the pickets, failed to effect his 
 purpose. The alarm was given, and soon the three field
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 27 
 
 pieces at Mount Airy communicated that alarm to the 
 whole British camp. Wayne, hotter than ever from the 
 shame of his recent midnight defeat, pressed on dauntlessly 
 with his brigade of Pennsylvanians his soldiers shouting to 
 one another, " Remember Paoli ! " but they met men of 
 the same stalwart race ; and the British advance, with ten- 
 fold their number in front of them, knowing well the im- 
 portance of time, maintained to the full the ancient reputa- 
 tion of their arms. Forced back upon Musgrave, after half 
 an hour's hard fighting, the latter also soon yielded ground, 
 but flung himself into the stone mansion of Judge Chew, 
 barricading its lower doors and windows, and keeping up 
 a heavy fire from the second story, the roof, and the out- 
 buildings ; while the remnant of the light infantry, pursued 
 remorselessly by Wayne's maddened soldiery, fled down 
 the road toward the main body. 
 
 To add to the difficulties of the assailants, a heavy mist 
 had arisen, which, combined with the smoke of the battle, 
 rendered all objects obscure at the distance of a few yards, 
 and prevented the commanders from knowing the position 
 of their various corps and regiments. 
 
 Wayne had pressed on after the British, down the main 
 road toward the market-house ; but when Conway's corps 
 came up, it halted and joined those who were engaged in 
 the assault upon Musgrave. 
 
 At this moment up rode Sullivan, at the head of his 
 brigade, and with him the Commander-in-Chief and his 
 staff, with General Knox, of the artillery. 
 
 "What is this?" asked Washington. 
 
 He might well ask, for nothing could be seen, though 
 the bullets were whistling all around them, and a return 
 fire, accompanied with shouts, could be heard from the 
 other side of the stone wall which lined the road. 
 
 An officer of Conway's brigade answered. "A party
 
 28 PEMBERTON J 
 
 of British have thrown themselves into a large stone house, 
 about a hundred yards from the road, and we are trying 
 to dislodge them." 
 
 " Wait a moment till I bring up my cannon," said Gen. 
 Knox, a very corpulent but withal active man, with an 
 animated, resolute face. 
 
 "This is madness! " broke in one of Washington's aids, 
 a small, handsome and fiery young man, called at that day 
 by some " the little lion," but afterwards known as one of 
 the wisest of statesmen and ablest of financiers Hamilton 
 the Immortal ! 
 
 " It would be madness to leave a fort in our rear, to cut 
 off our line of communication," replied Knox. "That is 
 against one of the first maxims of military science." 
 
 "A fort ! " echoed Hamilton, disdainfully. " Leave a 
 regiment here to watch them, and drive them back if they 
 attempt mischief but our time is too precious to waste in 
 battering down houses." 
 
 "Yes, but who knows that the British are not march- 
 ing up through the fields on the other side, and in force, 
 to their support," interposed Sullivan. "They would 
 take us then in flank and rear." 
 
 All turned to the commander. "Perhaps," said he, 
 " while we stand here considering, an earnest attack will 
 capture the house, and settle the question to please all of 
 us. We have to decide at a venture, for we can see noth- 
 ing in this mist. Major White, cannot you take a party, 
 and force the main door ? ' ' 
 
 "Or fire the doors and shutters?" suggested Hamil- 
 ton. 
 
 Major White, reputed to be the handsomest man in the 
 army, as he had been previously in the ball-rooms of 
 Philadelphia, smiled proudly as he answered 
 
 "I will try, general."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 29 
 
 Knox rode off rapidly, notwithstanding, to bring up his 
 cannon. 
 
 Major White dashed against the door, it was already 
 riddled with musket bullets, but it had been strongly bar- 
 ricaded, and his men dropped off rapidly beneath the con- 
 stant fire from the upper windows. 
 
 Then he had some pieces of rails and other light stuff 
 collected, and darted forward again alone, with a fagot of 
 these, a bundle of straw, and a lighted torch. Sheltered 
 under the cornice of the doorway, while his men poured a 
 steady rain of balls into the upper windows, he might have 
 succeeded but a shot from a cellar window struck him, 
 and he staggered back off the steps, and fell mortally 
 wounded upon the ground. 
 
 By this time Knox had got a field-piece in position 
 but his heaviest guns were six pounders, and while the 
 balls went through the walls of the house, they made no 
 opening by which a foe could enter. 
 
 A half hour had been wasted. Washington had sat 
 quietly upon his horse, listening to the reports his aids had 
 brought him, seemingly unconscious of the storm of bullets 
 raging around, until in compliance with General Sullivan's 
 repeated importunities, he shifted his position a little out 
 of the range of the heaviest fire. 
 
 " Hamilton was right," said he at length, " as he is apt 
 to be. But, as we have remained this long, suppose we 
 try a summons to surrender. General" to Sullivan 
 "have a parley beaten, and a flag of truce sent in." 
 
 Unfortunate order. The American advance, while this 
 attack was going on, had dashed against the British centre, 
 but had been met by a determined resistance. Wayne 
 had penetrated to the Market Square ; Greene, with the 
 left wing, had forced his way nearly to the same point ; 
 but the British were recovering from the first shock, were
 
 30 PEMBERTON J 
 
 bringing up regiments from the left and rear, the ammuni- 
 tion of Wayne's men had given out, a Virginia regiment 
 had been surrounded and captured, it was difficult in the 
 mist and smoke to distinguish friend from foe, and when 
 the parley was beaten at Chew's, it was taken by many of 
 the undisciplined Americans for the beating of a retreat. 
 "We are surrounded!" cried some. "The retreat is 
 beating ! " cried others. And in spite of all the efforts of 
 their officers, several of the regiments turned and fled. 
 
 As the confused mass came surging back, up the main 
 street, breaking the lines of Sullivan's brigade, it was evi- 
 dent that all the chances of success had passed, and Wash- 
 ington reluctantly gave the order to retreat. And thus 
 bad roads, and mist, and the mistaken delay as it proved 
 at Chew's house, and the want of ammunition, and the mis- 
 understanding of a drum-beat, lost the battle of German- 
 town.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CAPTAIN ANDRE. 
 
 A handsome man, and, more, a lovable; 
 And, though an enemy, our honor bids 
 Due entertainment should be given him. 
 
 BY eleven o'clock the battle was over. The mist and 
 smoke alike had cleared away. The sounds of the conflict 
 had subsided into the calm peace of a sunny Autumnal 
 morning. And were it not for the holes and rents left in the 
 walls and wood-work of the houses by the passage of bul- 
 lets and cannon-balls, and the stark and ghastly bodies of 
 the slain, and the convulsed limbs and suppressed groans 
 of wounded men, no one would have supposed that the 
 hurricane of war had so recently darkened and deafened 
 the apparently careless and unconscious heavens. 
 
 Seth Williams and his visitors, standing at his front 
 door, had seen Cornwallis dash on after the retreating 
 Americans at the head of his cavalry, all wet with the 
 sweat and foam of their rapid gallop from Philadelphia 
 had seen the grenadiers and Highlanders, panting and ex- 
 hausted with their six miles run, flinging themselves down 
 to rest upon the sides of the road, and on the steps of the 
 houses and then had gone in to partake of a country 
 dinner, which Mrs. Williams had prepared for them. The 
 young ladies ate with but a moderate appetite, for they 
 felt anxious, not only for their uncle, but for other officers 
 of the British army whom they knew intimately, although 
 Mrs. Williams's food was of the best, and served on the 
 cleanest of pewter platters. A batter pudding which she 
 had boiled in a bag, and which was eaten with butter and 
 West India molasses, was of itself enough to have tempted 
 the appetite of an epicure if any epicure ever had a real
 
 32 PEMBERTON; 
 
 and genuine appetite. But it was in vain she pressed her 
 viands upon her visitors they were too anxious at heart to 
 enjoy anything but good news. 
 
 "Now," said Seth, as he rose from the table, "I will 
 travel up toward friend Chew's, and see if I can find your 
 uncle, young women, and let him know where you are, 
 and that you are safe and hearty." 
 
 The ladies looked their thanks. 
 
 " As for Morris, I'm glad we got him so soon up-stairs 
 for if any of those pesky soldiers should come peeking 
 in here, they might make both him and us trouble. ' ' 
 
 Putting on his slouched hat, Seth left the house, and 
 made his way up the street. Parties of soldiers were 
 already engaged in carrying the wounded into the nearest 
 barns and other buildings, where the surgeons were busily 
 employed. Others assisted by the citizens were burying 
 the dead, several of whom, as Seth saw, had been plun- 
 dered to the very skin, and were lying livid to blackness, 
 and almost naked, on the side of the road, where they had 
 either crawled themselves, or been dragged by others. 
 
 "And these be Christian men, who rend and tear each 
 other in this savage fashion!" muttered Seth. "For my 
 part, I never could call myself a Christian, if I took part 
 in such horrid doings." 
 
 A short distance brought him to Judge Chew's place. 
 Everything looked indeed as if a tornado had passed 
 through there. The pleasant paths were torn up, the 
 marble statues and vases mutilated and overthrown, 
 branches of the trees were broken off, and hanging over 
 and strewing the walks and the fair mansion itself, with 
 its doors and shutters riddled with bullets, was torn with 
 cannon-balls, and blackened with fire and smoke. Above, 
 scarcely a pane of glass or an entire window-sash remained. 
 Soldiers were moving about, looking as dirty and grimy
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 33 
 
 as the house itself their faces blackened with gunpowder, 
 and their clothes torn and soiled. 
 
 "Where can I find the colonel?" asked Seth of one of 
 them. 
 
 The soldier looked at him for a moment, and simply 
 pointed to the front of the house. 
 
 "Ad d Quaker!" said he to a comrade, as Seth 
 
 passed on. 
 
 Suddenly Colonel Musgrave turned, and perceived htm. 
 Advancing with rapid strides, he confronted him, saying 
 
 "You bring me word of my nieces? Are they safe?" 
 
 "Safe but mightily distressed to hear from thee," re- 
 plied Seth. 
 
 " How far off are they? I will go to them this minute." 
 
 " What, so near?" said the colonel, when Seth told him. 
 " Tell them I will come in a few moments, and ride with 
 them to town as we had arranged. Poor girls, they must 
 be anxious to reach home." 
 
 Seth returned. And in a few moments Colonel Mus- 
 grave was at the door and in his nieces' arms. He had 
 escaped without a scratch and was highly elated with his 
 share in the fight. " We met and rolled back the whole 
 rebel army !" exclaimed he with pardonable exaggeration. 
 " They dashed against our stone fort like waves against a 
 rock but they could make no impression on my gallant 
 Fortieth !" 
 
 Helen smiled proudly, and kissed his bronzed cheek. 
 " You are my own gallant uncle, my father's dearest friend ; 
 and the Fortieth is the bravest regiment in the service ! 
 But," continued she, "is any one hurt any one that we 
 know?" 
 
 A shadow settled on the colonel's face. "Alas, the 
 greatest victory will have its sacrifices. The cruel Moloch 
 of War always demands its living victims. Many of my
 
 34 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 best and bravest officers and men are dead and others 
 maimed for life. Captain Campbell is dead. Legrange is 
 wounded. Simpson has lost his leg. Orville his arm. 
 Oh, it is a long, cruel list !" 
 
 "May God's mercy be with the dead and with the 
 living!" said Isabella, fervently, while the tears stood in 
 her eyes. 
 
 " And outside of your own regiment? Have you heard 
 from the main body?" inquired Helen eagerly. 
 
 " Only partially. General Agnew is dead killed 
 almost at the close of the battle, and not far from this 
 spot." 
 
 "It must have been that last sudden volley," said 
 Helen; " startling us with its nearness, when we thought 
 all was over." 
 
 " A small body of rebels threw themselves in his front 
 from the side of the road ; he was leading on his troops, 
 but turned his horse to ride back as he saw them. They 
 delivered a volley and fled, shooting him in the back. 
 Alas, poor Agnew he was a noble fellow ! ' ' 
 
 "Was General Grey's division in the action," pursued 
 Helen, her cheek coloring a rather deeper red; "and is 
 the general safe?" 
 
 "Yes, the general is unhurt; he brought up the left 
 wing in good time, and did good service. Trust our ' No 
 Flint' for that." 
 
 "Is Major Tarleton safe?" still queried Helen. 
 
 "And General Grey's aid, Captain Andre?" added 
 Isabella, with a glance at her sister. 
 
 "Yes, I think Tarleton and Andr are both safe. I 
 saw Grey for a moment, and he said nothing of Andre's 
 being hurt, which he certainly would have done, if it had 
 been so, for Andr is such a favorite of his and of every- 
 body's, for that matter."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 35 
 
 Helen seemed at length satisfied. And the conversa- 
 tion then turned upon the young ladies and their adven- 
 tures. Nothing was said however about " Moll of the 
 hatchet," or the wounded American officer the young 
 ladies evidently not feeling quite certain of their ground, 
 as their uncle, with all his kindness, had very little respect 
 for rebels, and just at that moment especially, could not be 
 expected to be in a very placable and forgiving mood. 
 They introduced him formally, however, to Seth and his 
 wife, and said how greatly they were indebted to their 
 kindness. And the colonel testified his gratitude in a few 
 simple and manly words, ending with an intimation to 
 them to let him know if any of the British soldiers gave 
 them trouble, as he might be able to set matters straight. 
 
 "And now, girls," cried he, "let us mount and ride." 
 
 The young ladies went up-stairs to get their riding caps, 
 as they said but also to say a few words doubtless to 
 Lieutenant Morris, who, what with the rest and a little 
 food, was already quite another man. He was still weak 
 however from the loss of blood, though Seth said that his 
 wound was by no means a serious one. 
 
 " I scarcely know how to thank you, ladies ; you proba- 
 bly saved my life," said he with great earnestness, as they 
 announced their intention of leaving. 
 
 "Oh, it was all Helen's doing," replied Isabella. 
 
 "Nonsense. I just happened to have the pistol, that 
 was all." 
 
 " I suppose all such things just happen," said the officer, 
 smiling. " Perhaps Heaven allows them to just happen 
 but not the less is it true that to you, Miss Helen, I proba- 
 bly owe my life. And therefore I am in honor bound to 
 hold it at your service. And will pay the debt, whenever 
 you or yours need it." 
 
 "Lieutenant Morris," replied Helen, "what I did for
 
 36 PEMBERTON J 
 
 you, I would just as freely have done for any other man 
 friend or enemy. And you pain me by talking as you do. 
 You must not consider yourself under any such grievous 
 burden of gratitude." 
 
 " Grievous ! it is a pleasant burden !" replied the young 
 man, enthusiastically. 
 
 "Girls! are you not ready? Time is flying while you 
 are fixing," called the colonel up the stairway. 
 
 Isabella extended her hand the young officer pressed it 
 warmly. Helen extended hers he took it and pressed it 
 fervently to his lips. Snatching it away, and blushing 
 crimson, Helen sprang after her sister, who was already 
 descending the stairs. 
 
 " It takes you young ladies a terrible time to arrange 
 your hair and put on your riding caps," exclaimed Colo- 
 nel Musgrave, a little impatiently. 
 
 " Oh, Helen was dreaming, as usual, of the days of 
 chivalry, and knights and ladies fair," replied Isabella, 
 archly. 
 
 "Helen is a" 
 
 But a fair, soft hand was pressed over his lips, and in- 
 tercepted the rest of the colonel's sentence. 
 
 " Well, say good-bye, and let us be going," resumed he, 
 laughing. 
 
 Taking a warm adieu of Seth and his wife, and promis- 
 ing to ride out and see them before many days, the young 
 ladies mounted, and resumed their ride under more favor- 
 able auspices, attended by Colonel Musgrave and his 
 orderly who rode behind in a very stiff and imposing 
 fashion. Just before Isabella mounted, however, she had 
 contrived to say in a low tone to Seth, that if anything oc- 
 curred of interest to himself or his wounded guest, to let 
 them know at once, giving him their direction in the city. 
 And Seth had replied that he expected to be in town in a
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 37 
 
 day or two, and would call in any event, and let them 
 know how affairs were going on. 
 
 The road was considerably thronged as they rode down 
 toward the city alike with soldiers and with the inhabit- 
 ants, who were gazing with deep interest on all the sad 
 traces of the combat. The wounded generally had been 
 by this time removed, but parties were still employed in 
 burying the dead. At one place, just inside a field, a large 
 shallow grave had been dug, and fifteen or twenty of the 
 American dead lay beside it, as Colonel Musgrave and his 
 party rode up. Stopping their horses at the side of the 
 road, they gazed pitifully upon the solemn scene. The 
 British soldiers began to lift in the bodies, placing the faces 
 upward. Suddenly the colonel spoke : 
 
 " Not so, my men ; put them with their faces downward. 
 Let us not cast the dirt into their faces, for they also are 
 mothers' sons." 
 
 " What a queer compound man is," continued the colo- 
 nel, half apologizing as they rode on. " Here am I, fresh 
 from dashing steel and bullets into the faces of live rebels 
 and yet tender of flinging a little dirt into the faces of 
 dead ones." 
 
 "And you would not be my own noble uncle, if you 
 were not thus inconsistent," replied Isabella, while Helen 
 warmly assented with her expressive eyes. 
 
 Soon they reached the market-place, where a number of 
 officers were assembled, some on foot, some mounted, at 
 General Grant's* headquarters. Many were the saluta- 
 tions, and more the looks of surprise, as the ladies rode by. 
 Then a young officer followed, and riding up to the party, 
 
 * General Grant commanded the British right wing. He was probably of the 
 same Scottish family that President Grant is descended from.
 
 ,. 38 PEMBERTON; 
 
 saluted the colonel, and reined in his horse by the side of 
 Isabella. 
 
 "Surely, ladies, you have not been in the battle?" said 
 he. 
 
 " Not exactly in it and yet in the midst of it," replied 
 Isabella. 
 
 " I suppose you, Miss Helen, acted as aid to Colonel 
 Musgrave and this explains why the Fortieth made such 
 a splendid defence. How could they yield, when they 
 were defending the ladies ?' ' 
 
 " My nieces were not with me, Captain, I am happy to 
 say," said the colonel. " I do not know where we could 
 have stowed them safely except perhaps in the wine 
 cellar." 
 
 "We ingloriously fled the fight though in obedience 
 to our commander's peremptory orders," said Isabella; 
 "and sought a harbor of safety in the house of a peace- 
 loving Quaker." 
 
 " Well, I am glad you came safely through and glad 
 that I did not know of the perils you were exposed to. ' ' 
 
 "The battle was pretty well fought on both sides, I 
 think, Captain Andre"," said Colonel Musgrave. "Grey, 
 I hear, brought up his brigade just at the right time." 
 
 "Yes and if it had not been for the thick mist, which 
 hid the enemy completely from view, I doubt much 
 whether more than half of Washington's army would have 
 got back to their old quarters." 
 
 "True, the mist was greatly to our disadvantage. And 
 it is a shame that so audacious an attempt as this, should 
 thus, by sheer good-luck, go almost unpunished." 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot ride on to Philadelphia with you, 
 ladies," said Andre", "but this is of course a busy day at 
 headquarters. How is Mr. Pemberton?" 
 
 " He was in excellent health and spirits, I believe, yes-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 39 
 
 terday, when we left," said Isabella. "Have you any 
 message for him?" 
 
 " Tell him I shall be in the city in a day or two, to see 
 him if he does not ride out to see me. Good-bye, Colo- 
 nel. Good-bye, ladies au revoir." 
 
 Returning his adieus, they rode on. 
 
 "That's a fine fellow," said the colonel. 
 
 " Splendid !" replied Isabella. " He is, in the opinion 
 of us ladies, the very Chevalier Bayard of the army with- 
 out fear and without reproach." 
 
 "A lucky fellow," continued the colonel, "to have 
 both the young men and the young women crazy about 
 him. What do you think of him, Helen ?" 
 
 " Oh, I suppose he'll do." 
 
 " Why, I thought, Helen, that Andr6 would just be a 
 man after your own heart," said the colonel, in a surprised 
 tone. 
 
 "After Helen's heart? Why, uncle!" jested Isa- 
 bella. 
 
 " Bella, there are some things which it is not pretty to 
 jest about," said Helen, with offended dignity. 
 
 "Of course Helen understood what I meant," said the 
 colonel, who was not a very keen appreciator of a joke. 
 "But as for Andre 1 , why even Arthur Pemberton, who, I 
 believe, is your great admiration, Helen, admires him to 
 the utmost, if one may judge by their great intimacy on 
 so short an acquaintance." 
 
 "Arthur Pemberton is the most splendid man I know," 
 said Helen, decidedly. 
 
 The colonel opened his honest eyes. " Well, Helen, 
 all I have to say is, that I have no objection to Arthur 
 Pemberton but one, and that is a very serious one I do 
 not believe he is more than half loyal." 
 
 " Oh, I have no intention, of marrying him, uncle nor
 
 40 PEMBERTON; 
 
 he of marrying me. When I fall in love, if I ever do, it 
 shall be with a thoroughly loyal man." 
 
 "Arthur Pemberton is as true and honorable a man as 
 the most loyal and devoted subject of the Crown ! ' ' ex- 
 claimed Isabella, her dark eyes kindling, and her cheeks 
 flushing. 
 
 Helen gave a little laugh. " Of course he is, sis uncle 
 knows I allow no one to abuse Mr. Pemberton, but my- 
 self." 
 
 "And yet, Isabel, I would rather not hear you speak in 
 that way," rejoined Colonel Musgrave. "It seems to 
 undervalue the great virtue and merit of loyalty and fall 
 in thus with the hateful rebel fashion of talking. ' ' 
 
 Isabella made no reply. And soon she began a conver- 
 sation with her uncle upon the beauty of the Autumnal 
 woods, and the delightful temperature of the Autumnal 
 season in that part of the country, which lasted until they 
 arrived at the house of Mrs. Pemberton, with whom the 
 young ladies were residing.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 41 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 A WOMAN'S WILL. 
 
 He shall not be molested. Mind, I say 
 
 He shall not t Tut a foe 1 What care we women 
 
 For that? 
 
 MRS. PEMBERTON or Rachel Pemberton, as she pre- 
 ferred to be called was a widow of considerable means, 
 and a member of the Society of Friends. She lived with 
 her only son, Arthur Pemberton, in a large brick house, 
 which stood at that time on Chestnut Street above Third 
 the grounds, pleasantly laid out, extending on the west 
 and in the rear to Dock creek, which was large enough for 
 boating and skating. Distantly related to the Grahams, 
 and taking a warm liking to them on acquaintance, she 
 had proposed to the young ladies to board with her so 
 long as they should decide to remain in Philadelphia a 
 rather indefinite period. Brought from their school at 
 Bethlehem before the war, by their father, who was an 
 officer in the British service, and stationed temporarily in 
 Philadelphia, they had eagerly embraced Mrs. Pember- 
 ton's offer. They had never known a mother's care, and 
 in Mrs. Pemberton they seemed to find a mother. And 
 at their father's death, which occurred at the breaking out 
 of the war, they had felt the blow softened by the love 
 and tenderness of the aged lady with whom their lot had 
 been so opportunely cast. 
 
 Colonel Musgrave was an old friend of their father's, 
 and had consented to act as their guardian. They soon 
 learned to love him, and to call him uncle though he 
 really was not related to them. They had some property 
 not very much, but ample for their personal support 
 they were connected through their mother, not only, as
 
 42 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 we have said, with the Pembertons, but with other of the 
 old Quaker families of the city, and were thus as advan- 
 tageously situated as two orphaned girls could well be. 
 
 They were beautiful girls, or rather, women. Finely 
 formed, clear-skinned, intelligent, gay, and high-spirited. 
 Isabella with dark eyes and dark brown hair Helen with 
 blue eyes and gold-brown curls ; the first calm, self-poised 
 and equable ; the latter more impulsive more a creature 
 of the emotions and the passions. The one might be 
 called the more queenly and charming, the other the more 
 spirited and fascinating. Both were among the most be- 
 witching women of a city, whose belles an impartial judge, 
 Mrs. John Adams, termed ' ' a constellation of beauties. ' ' 
 
 A day or two after the scenes already described, the 
 sisters were seated in a little sitting-room adjoining their 
 chamber. Helen was tossing over a lot of old letters 
 reading a few lines here and there, and commenting on 
 their contents. At last she broke out in a clear and ring- 
 ing laugh. 
 
 " Just hear this, Bel ! Now I want to read you what 
 you wrote me about Arthur Pemberton, when I was at 
 Bethlehem, and you here in Philadelphia on a visit." 
 
 "You need not trouble yourself to read it, Helen. I 
 think I can remember it without a reading." 
 
 " Oh, but I must in fact, I want to refresh my own 
 memory," said the laughing tease. "Just listen, Bella:" 
 
 "' He is rather tall but not too tall' ("not so tall 
 that he cannot be conveniently kissed," interpolated 
 Helen) ' his features are clearly cut his eyes a bluish- 
 gray his chin dimpled his mouth finely formed ' ("just 
 ripe and sweet enough," again interpolated Helen ) 'and 
 then' " 
 
 " Helen, you would greatly oblige me by giving me 
 that letter," interrupted Isabella, holding out her hand.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 43 
 
 " Indeed I could not think of such a thing. Why, it 
 is the very treasure of all my collection. Let me proceed 
 where did I leave off? oh, yes " 
 
 " ' And to crown all ' (" of course ; that is very well 
 said, to crown all ; where should it be if not on his crown ?") 
 ' and, to crown all, the finest head of hair I ever saw 
 a light, shining auburn, negligently tied, and waving 
 down the back. Loose flowed the soft redundance of his 
 hair.'" 
 
 " Helen, you are too bad it is shameful ! " exclaimed 
 her sister, her face a crimson, and making a successful 
 dash for the letter, which she crammed into her bosom. 
 
 Helen made a counter-dash to recover it. Isabella ran 
 around the room getting behind chairs, jumping upon a 
 sofa, and making a gallant running fight for the vexatious 
 and precious document. 
 
 Knock ! knock ! knock ! 
 
 " Are you not ashamed of yourself, Helen? You make 
 so much noise that some one has been knocking at the 
 door unheard for the last ten minutes." 
 
 "Who began it?" said Helen, defiantly smoothing 
 her ruffled plumage. 
 
 Knock ! knock ! knock ! 
 
 " Coming!" cried Isabella, smoothing her hair with 
 her hands, and going to the door. 
 
 Opening it, there stood Fox, the old negro of the house. 
 
 " Miss Bella, an old Quaker gemman of de Friendly 
 persuasion is down in de parlor, waiting for to see de 
 young wimmen by de name of Graham." 
 
 "It is Mr. Williams, Bel, by all that is good," said 
 Helen, who was listening. " No use in fixing any more 
 for him let us go down at once. Tell him we are com- 
 ing, Foxey." 
 
 They found Seth in the parlor. After their mutually
 
 44 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 warm greetings, Seth entered at once on the object of his 
 visit. Lieutenant Morris was doing very well indeed 
 but the British provost, Captain Cunningham, had ascer- 
 tained, in some way, that an American officer was lying 
 in the house, had visited him, declared that he was plenty 
 well enough to move, and was about to carry him off 
 either to the hospital, or to that den of horrors, Walnut 
 Street prison. It was only by threatening him with the 
 indignation of Colonel Musgrave, Seth said, that he could 
 obtain a respite until the afternoon. 
 
 "I did not like to mention your names," said Seth, 
 " and yet I am afraid that Colonel Musgrave may hear of 
 the matter from that brutal captain, and say he knows 
 nothing about the lefttenant." 
 
 "Perhaps we had better write to uncle upon the sub- 
 ject," said Isabella to her sister ; " and yet he will wonder 
 that we said nothing about the lieutenant when he called 
 for us at Mr. Williams's." 
 
 "Yes, it is awkward," replied Helen. . "But ' in for a 
 penny, in for a pound.' Cunningham shall not have him ! 
 Could you find Captain Andre, if I should give you a note 
 to him ? ' ' turning to Seth. 
 
 "Is he not one of those they call aidecamps, and along 
 with General Grey ? I think I know the young man 
 rather good-looking, is he not? dark-complected? brown 
 eyes? almost always smiling ?" 
 
 "A pretty good description," laughed Isabella 
 " though " (in a whisper to her sister) " hardly up to your 
 standard, I suppose, sis. Helen, will you write to him?" 
 
 For answer, Helen opened the writing-desk attached to 
 a large mahogany book-case, and wrote as follows : 
 
 " Helen Graham's compliments to Captain Andre, and 
 would be grateful if the captain could do her a service. A
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 45 
 
 rebel lieutenant, named Morris, is lying wounded in the 
 house of Mr. Seth Williams, the bearer of this note, at 
 Germantown. Mr. Morris is an acquaintance of Miss 
 Graham's, and she wishes him paroled at once, and ex- 
 changed as soon as possible. The case is urgent, as Cap- 
 tain Cunningham insists upon taking him to prison. Ex- 
 planations deferred till Captain Andre next visits the city." 
 
 " Cold and formal enough," said Isabella, after reading 
 it; "but I guess it will work. To make all sure however, 
 let me now write a note to Colonel Musgrave, to be de- 
 livered if necessary." 
 
 Isabella's note also written, both were confided to Seth, 
 with instructions not to deliver the second unless Captain 
 Andre could not be found, or his exertions should prove 
 unavailing. Then Seth mounted his steed, and departed 
 in high good humor. As he rode up Fourth Street, as 
 rapidly as his old horse could well go, he murmured to 
 himself 
 
 " Now, them girls may be Britishers but they're what 
 I call clear grit. That Helen in particular, is one of those 
 females which take a man I mean a young man clean off 
 his feet. Let's see what this Captain Andry will say. As 
 for the lefttenant, he's gone already, hook and line, rope 
 and bucket any fool can see that. But he's a rebel, and 
 she's a Britisher perhaps a tory.. Ah, well, well, well 1 '*
 
 46 PEMBERTON j 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE WISSAH1CKON. 
 
 All noble souls are kindred. Through the bars 
 Of Country and of Sect they shake warm hands. 
 And even o'er the yawning chasms wide 
 Of intervening Centuries, they send 
 Their messages of friendship and of cheer. 
 
 SEVERAL weeks have elapsed since the events narrated in 
 our last chapter, and the British army is no longer at Ger- 
 mantown. Seeing the danger of dividing his forces, and 
 being anxious to put himself in a position where he could 
 safely detach a large body to reduce the American fortifi- 
 cations on the Delaware, Sir William Howe had marched 
 one fine morning to the outskirts of Philadelphia. There 
 he had erected a line of fortifications, extending from the 
 Delaware to what is now called Fairmount on the Schuyl- 
 kill, and then felt himself perfectly secure from any further 
 audacious attempts at surprisal. 
 
 The note borne by Seth to Captain Andr6 had worked 
 like a charm. Lieutenant Morris had not only been pa- 
 roled but at once exchanged. And as a few weeks had 
 made a great difference in his condition, he had already 
 rejoined his troop. 
 
 It was on the morning of one of those beautiful days 
 which crown with a halo of glory the American Autumn, 
 that a party of four equestrians were preparing to set out 
 from the house of Mrs. Pemberton. The usual little crowd 
 had collected around to see the ladies mount for when 
 will not everybody stop and turn to see a young lady on 
 horseback ? and, amid laughter and gay jests, the cava- 
 liers had made a knee for their fair companions, and 
 placed them in the saddle. There were but two couples 
 Isabella and Arthur Pemberton, Helen and Captain Andre.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 47 
 
 The riding attire of the ladies was not very unlike that 
 which is worn at present. The gentlemen wore the long 
 breeches reaching to the ankle and lined with broad 
 stripes of leather, called Cherry Vallies, which were often 
 used for riding at that day in order to dispense with the 
 high boots, which were heavy and clumsy. 
 
 "Where is Prince?" said Helen, after gathering up her 
 reins ; and she blew a silver hunting whistle which hung 
 around her neck. 
 
 " Now, Helen," said Isabella " let me entreat you not 
 to take that dog. Prince is growing old and heavy, and 
 we shall have a pretty long ride to-day. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, Miss Helen," added Arthur Pemberton, " I agree 
 with your sister. Prince, before the day is done, would 
 thank you for letting him remain at home." 
 
 "Just as you say," replied Helen. " See how amiable 
 I am, Captain." 
 
 " Oh, I know you are a perfect paragon of amiability," 
 returned Andre, smiling. 
 
 " What a pity that none of the rest of the party could 
 go," said Isabella, addressing Andre. "What is in the 
 wind, Captain?" 
 
 "I see that Foxey's largest flag is, for one thing," re- 
 plied Andr6 evasively, looking up at the top of Mrs. Pem- 
 berton' s house, on which a large British flag was streaming 
 from a flag-staff. 
 
 "Why, Foxey," continued he, turning to the negro, 
 who stood on the sidewalk, " you have your largest flag 
 out to-day." 
 
 "Yes, Massa Ander, old Foxey knowed you'uns were 
 goin' horseback to-day. He allers hang out de big flag 
 on -de great occasums. ' ' 
 
 "You evaded Bella's question," said Helen, as they 
 moved off at a gentle pace, or rack, as it is often termed.
 
 48 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " Yes, I did ; there were so many standing by. But the 
 officers could not go, as they happen to be on service to- 
 day, and the ladies do not care to go without their escorts. 
 Miss Franks threatened to go till the very last, but even 
 her love of fun could not keep her up to it. ' ' 
 
 As they rode out Fourth street, then only sprinkled with 
 houses, and unpaved like all of the streets at that time, a 
 small crowd attracted their attention. It was gathered 
 around one of the street musicians of the day a negro 
 with what was called a banjo, a kind of guitar made of a 
 gourd, who was singing a popular song in his rude dialect, 
 apparently to the great delight of the listeners. 
 
 It was the fashion at that time for the ladies to wear the 
 hair very high, somewhat in the style of the pompadour 
 rolls of the present day, though a great deal higher. The 
 fashion began in fact with rolls, over which the hair was 
 combed back, but these were superseded by cushions, and 
 artificial curled work, which was often sent out to the bar- 
 ber to be dressed, like a wig, while the fair owner re- 
 mained at home. The gentlemen of that time, like the 
 gentlemen of this and all times, were much given to satiriz- 
 ing these extravagances of the more beautiful sex, and with 
 just as much effect as at the present day ; and some wit 
 had composed the song which the negro was singing, and 
 which, in good English, would read somewhat as fol- 
 lows : 
 
 Give Chloe a bushel of horse-hair and wool, 
 Of paste and pomatum a pound, 
 Ten yards of gay ribbon to deck her sweet skull, 
 And gauze to encompass it round. 
 
 " Let her flags fly behind for a yard at the least, 
 Let her curls meet just under her chin, 
 
 Let those curls be supported, to keep up the jest, 
 With an hundred, instead of one pin.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 49 
 
 " Let her gown be tucked up to the hip on each side, 
 
 Shoes too high for to walk or to jump, 
 And to deck the sweet creature complete for a bride, 
 Let the cork-cutter make her a hump. 
 
 " Thus finished in taste, while on Chloe you gaze, 
 
 You may take the dear charmer for life ; 
 But never undress her for, out of her stays, 
 
 You'll find you have lost half your wife ! "* 
 
 As our party rode by, the gentlemen half-halted to lis- 
 ten, but Helen exclaimed impatiently, "It is only that 
 odious song again. I wonder that any gentleman could 
 write it, or that any gentleman can listen to it. ' ' 
 
 " What was that you were saying about amiability, a 
 little while ago ? ' ' asked Pemberton, demurely. 
 
 " Amiability is one thing, and stupidity is another," 
 said Helen. 
 
 " I quite agree with you as to that," replied Pemberton, 
 smiling. " But what do you think of the sign on the 
 tavern there," pointing to a representation of a man carry- 
 ing his wife on his back. 
 
 "What does that mean?" inquired Isabella. 
 
 " Read the legend beneath," said Pemberton " * The 
 man loaded with mischief. ' ' ' 
 
 "It should read, ' The man in his proper place, as a 
 beast of burden.' 1 " commented Helen, sarcastically. "For 
 my part I think that all that men are good for, is to pro- 
 vide money and amusement for women. Don't you think 
 so, Mr. Andre?" 
 
 " Yes, if you will allow me to add a sentence and all 
 that women are good for, is to provide homes and love 
 for men." 
 
 "I agree with you fully," said Isabella over her 
 shoulder she and Pemberton were in advance. 
 
 * The reader will note how curiously the fashions, including high hair, high 
 heels, bustles, paniers and hoops, have all come round again in the course of about 
 a century.
 
 5 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 "Oh, well, what is the use of quarrelling?" cried 
 Helen. "I hate quarrelling, and like to have my own 
 way. If that is not being thoroughly amiable, I don't 
 know what is." 
 
 " There are the barracks," said Pemberton. " There are 
 not as many lounging in front as usual, to-day. And I 
 do not see the Hessians at their encampment either." 
 
 "Ah, that is where the officers have gone with the 
 soldiers," commented Helen. "I hope they will all get 
 safely back again. I don't admire battles so much, since 
 I saw those poor fellows huddled into the earth at Ger- 
 mantown." 
 
 "Ah, Helen is half a rebel now," said Pemberton; "that 
 young lieutenant has done what I could never do, con- 
 vince her that the rebels have some little good left in 
 them." 
 
 " That is not surprising," replied Helen. " Mr. Morris 
 is a gentleman and a scholar. I do not think I have seen 
 so handsome a man, since since, when shall I say, Bel?" 
 
 " Let me see. Since since you had that flirtation with 
 General Knyphausen at Mr. Bingham's." 
 
 " General Knyphausen indeed ! I don't fancy gentle- 
 men who spread their butter on their bread with their 
 thumb nails. Besides, I never flirt. Did you ever see 
 me flirt, Mr. Pemberton?" 
 
 "I never saw you do anything else," replied Pember- 
 ton, laughing. 
 
 "Arthur Pemberton ! " exclaimed Helen, her face color- 
 ing to the temples. 
 
 "I think that is hardly fair, Arthur," said Isabella, 
 gravely. 
 
 "I own up beg forgiveness plead guilty," replied 
 Pemberton. " Indeed, Helen, I only said it because it 
 came in so well. In fact, it a-kind of said itself. I know
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 51 
 
 very well you do not flirt not even with Major Tarle- 
 ton." 
 
 "I detest Major Tarleton !" exclaimed Helen; "and 
 you know it." 
 
 "Hush! hush!" said Isabella. "You know the old 
 saying, ' Speak of Satan, and he will appear ! ' " 
 
 They were approaching, by this time, one of the British 
 redoubts, which commanded the road. A number of 
 dragoons were scattered around, while a rather short but 
 somewhat heavily-built officer, with a swarthy complexion, 
 was seated on his horse, and conversing with the com- 
 mander of the outpost. 
 
 "Good-morning, ladies and gentlemen," cried he, as 
 they rode up; " you are bound for a ride, I see." 
 
 After due salutations, Tarleton continued. "Why, 
 Andre, where are your regimentals ? Are you not a little 
 afraid to venture beyond our lines without them ? ' ' 
 
 " I am a good deal more afraid to venture as far as we 
 are going, with them," replied Andr, smiling. "Some 
 of the colonists, you know, grow rabid at the sight of a 
 red coat ; and they might make it dangerous, not only 
 for me, but for my company. I was a little puzzled, too, 
 what color to substitute. Pemberton here can wear blue, 
 but I don't like it. Green is the refugee, and also the 
 French color. Brown is rather dull. And so I have 
 chosen gray, as you see, which suits admirably in one re- 
 spect, as I am in Grey's corps ! " 
 
 " I hope, then, you either have a pass, or else will not 
 meet any of Lee's or McLane's light horse, for they are 
 the rabidest kind of rebels." 
 
 "Oh, we are all right in that respect, Major," said 
 Pemberton. "Would you like to see the rebel pass?" 
 
 "I never object to seeing anything," replied Tarleton; 
 "it may prove useful some day" turning his small and
 
 52 PEMBERTON; 
 
 piercing black eyes upon the paper. " That is a curiosity 
 in the way of a pass. ' ' He read it aloud : 
 
 "Allow Miss Helen Graham, and not more than twelve 
 of her friends, either in or out of military costume, to pass 
 our patroles to the Wissahickon, in the neighborhood of 
 Cresheim creek. 
 
 "GEORGE WASHINGTON, 
 
 " Commander-in-Chief. " 
 
 " That is the first time I ever saw the old surveyor's sig- 
 nature," continued Tarleton. "Would not some of their 
 other generals have done as well ? Miss Helen, you seem 
 to be a person of influence at the rebel headquarters. ' ' 
 
 "Miss Helen generally is, wherever she is known," re- 
 plied Andre. 
 
 ' ' But it puzzles me how she can be known there, ' ' con- 
 tinued Tarleton, as if nothing ought to puzzle him. 
 
 " I think you will have to stay puzzled a little while, 
 Major," said Helen, rather coldly. " There is something 
 for you to exercise your vaunted penetration upon. I 
 thought you always knew pretty much everything. ' ' 
 
 "I think I shall be able when I see you next to tell 
 you all about it," replied Tarleton, a little nettled. 
 "Of course if I learn that Washington once happened 
 to see you with his field glass, at twenty miles' distance, 
 I shall understand it all. Valor always is the devoted 
 servant of beauty." 
 
 " Come, gentlemen if we stop to listen to Major 
 Tarleton's flow of compliments, we shall never get to 
 our journey's end. We all know the Major is famous 
 as a lady-killer," rejoined Helen, giving her horse the 
 whip.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 53 
 
 "If you meet any of McLane's men near German- 
 town, tell them I am coming up that way in an hour 
 or so," cried Tarleton, as they rode on. 
 
 "We shall do nothing of the kind," replied Isabella. 
 
 " Now for a sharp trot or shall it be a fast canter?" 
 cried Helen. 
 
 "Can these pacers trot?" asked Andre, of Pember- 
 ton. 
 
 "I see you have had to come to the pacers," laughed 
 Isabella. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," replied Andre. "It is too much 
 like torment to ride an English trotter at his slowest 
 trot, in company with one of your American pacers. 
 Besides, I admit there is no gait so favorable for con- 
 versation as the pace, when you wish to get along a 
 little faster than a walk." 
 
 "A perfectly gaited horse, according to our Phila- 
 delphia ideas," said Pemberton, ''should be a fast 
 walker, a gentle pacer, a square, honest trotter, and 
 easy at the canter and the run. Now here is Selim, 
 who is perfect." He patted the neck of the beautiful 
 chestnut he bestrode gentle and quiet as a lamb, but, 
 at the touch of the whip or spur, full of fire and spirit. 
 
 "Is that the horse that is fond of liquor?" inquired 
 Andre. 
 
 "That is hardly a fair statement. He will turn off 
 his single cup of beer or spirits with anybody but if 
 you hand him a second cup, he will let it fall, and 
 place one of his forefeet upon it. He is quite a tem- 
 perance horse, you see." 
 
 "Let us be off let us have a canter," cried Isa- 
 bella. 
 
 The road was good, the morning air bracing, and 
 with Helen and Andr6 in the advance, the miles flew
 
 54 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 by in the ecstacy of rapid motion. When they pulled 
 up, they were at the top of a long hill, and entering 
 Germantown. 
 
 "Was not that glorious?" exclaimed Helen, wiping 
 her heated face. 
 
 " I call that the poetry of motion even more than 
 dancing," replied Andre. "A good horse, a fine day, 
 and a beautiful lady what more does a man need to be 
 perfectly happy ? " 
 
 " Did you see, Helen, how ruined all the country- 
 seats looked ? ' ' questioned Isabella, riding up with her 
 companion. "Is it not shameful fruit-trees cut down, 
 fences and gates demolished, the beautiful grounds de- 
 stroyed, and many of the houses themselves with their 
 shutters torn off, and doors broken in. Captain Andre, 
 why do you allow such things?" 
 
 "It is difficult to prevent it, Miss Graham. Our gen- 
 erals and their officers do what they can ; but war is 
 destruction, not peace, you know." 
 
 "And the rebels have brought it all upon themselves," 
 added Helen. 
 
 "A truce," cried Pemberton. "You know that Cap- 
 tain Andre and myself never talk upon these questions, 
 except upon grave, set occasions. To-day we have come 
 out for a good time and intending to have a little oasis 
 of peace in the very midst of this cruel desert of 
 war." 
 
 Andre's face beamed upon Pemberton. " Pemberton 
 and I have agreed to disagree upon this question," he 
 said. "We know we are both thoroughly honest and 
 sincere in our convictions of duty. I count it among 
 my sorrows, that I cannot convince him that loyalty is 
 the truest policy for the colonies. But we can and do 
 both of us agree in this to do all that lies in our
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 55 
 
 power to mitigate the bitterness and cruelty and horror 
 of the war." 
 
 "What was that story Ferguson was telling you the 
 other day?" 
 
 "Only that he could have shot Washington with his 
 rifle, at the recent battle." 
 
 "Why did he not do it, then?" said Isabella. "That 
 sounds like boasting." 
 
 "Ferguson is not a boaster," replied Andre; "he is 
 the best shot in the army, if not in the world. He says 
 that he did not know it was Washington and either this, 
 or because he dislikes the practice of singling out officers, 
 or something else, he cannot now explain or understand 
 what, kept him from doing it." 
 
 "I know," said Isabella. "It was the same reason 
 that prevented that Indian chief from shooting him, when 
 Braddock was defeated at Fort Duquesne." 
 
 " What nonsense ! " exclaimed Helen. "Bella, I de- 
 clare you are fast growing to be as bad a rebel as Pember- 
 ton. As if the Almighty, who has commanded us to obey 
 the king and those in authority, would shield the bosom 
 of a rebel." 
 
 Pemberton made haste to speak. "What of those 
 breech-loaders that Ferguson has had his riflemen armed 
 with ? Do they work ? ' ' 
 
 " He says so," replied Andr6. " He says his men can 
 fire six shots in a minute. Some of the officers think that 
 in a few years ' Brown Bess ' will be thrown aside, and the 
 whole army armed with these breech-loading rifles." 
 
 "Doubtful," said Pemberton; "you have too many 
 martinets in the service for that." 
 
 Stopping for a moment, but not dismounting, at Seth 
 Williams' s door, and passing some kind words with the 
 worthy dame Seth himself not being at home they cant-
 
 56 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 ered on, past Chew's house, in its blackened desolation, 
 and up to Mount Airy, where the recent battle had begun. 
 
 " I guess we shall see somebody soon," said Pemberton 
 slyly to Helen. " I have seen the hoof-prints of McLane's 
 cavalry for the last mile or two." 
 
 "I'll bet you a sovereign you cannot tell the hoof-prints 
 of one horse from another, to save your life. Can he, 
 Captain?" 
 
 " I expect he can. A troop of horse leaves a number 
 of prints together, and the English horses' hoofs are larger 
 than the American. And as each company is apt to have 
 its own shoer, and it is sometimes an object to make the 
 shoe so that its print can be distinguished, you can 
 easily see that Pemberton may be right. But here is 
 Allen's lane" 
 
 He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a young 
 American officer, who with half a dozen troopers emerged 
 at this moment from the lane. A glance showed that it 
 was Lieutenant Morris, still rather pale, and with his left 
 arm in a sling, but seeming not much the worse for his re- 
 cent wound. 
 
 " Good morning, ladies. Good morning, Cousin Ar- 
 thur. Good morning, Captain. I am eternally indebted 
 to you and to Miss Helen. You got the pass all safely, I 
 see." 
 
 "Yes, and here is the precious document," replied 
 Helen. " I take it as quite a compliment." 
 
 " I thought I would meet you, and ride up with you as 
 far as Mr. Livezey's, if you have no objections," said the 
 lieutenant. 
 
 " Indeed we shall all be very happy to have your com- 
 pany," replied Helen, while the rest gladly assented. 
 " Come around, and ride on my right, Mr. Morris."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 57 
 
 Giving a brief order to his men to await his coming, he 
 spurred to the side of Helen, and they rode on. 
 
 "It is just the time to see the Wissahickon in its robes 
 of glory, Miss Helen," said he, as they pulled up after a 
 gay canter. " Have you ever been to Cresheim creek?" 
 
 " No, but I have been down near the Schuylkill." 
 
 "Stop," cried Isabella; " is not this view beautiful ?" 
 
 Through a gap in the trees they looked down on the 
 valley of the Wissahickon. It was Indian Summer, and 
 a bluish haze was spread like a softening veil over the 
 whole landscape. The trees were still full of foliage 
 though here and there the bright and glowing crimsons 
 had deepened into rich browns. All was singularly quiet, 
 as with the weird quiet of a dream save, at intervals, 
 was heard the accordant sound of a distant flail on some 
 barn threshing-floor. 
 
 "See one such sight as this, and die!" enthusiasti- 
 cally exclaimed Isabella. 
 
 " I have a friend," said Andre, "he is in Lord Howe's 
 fleet, who always hopes to die far out at sea. He is 
 ever quoting 
 
 " ' And Death, whenever it comes to me, 
 
 In calm or storm, may I sink to rest, 
 Rocked by the waves of the great, strong sea, 
 
 And coffined for aye in his breast.* 
 
 " But for me when I die, I should like to have my last 
 gaze rest on such dreamy skies, such a crimson and brown 
 and purple earth as this." 
 
 "You make me melancholy, with all this talk about 
 dying," broke in Helen. " Now, I say that, when I get 
 married ' ' 
 
 But a general laugh spoiled Helen's speech. 
 
 "When you get married, I should like to be there as 
 groom 's man," said Pemberton.
 
 5*5 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 "Please put your words a little closer together, Mr. 
 Pemberton," returned Helen, with an air of mock dig- 
 nity. 
 
 Soon they were descending a rough, rocky road into 
 the valley of the Wissahickon, Lieutenant Morris mani- 
 festing great concern lest Helen's horse should stumble, 
 while Andre smiled, and riding in advance in the narrow 
 road, left the whole care of the young lady to her new 
 escort. 
 
 "This is like the primeval forest," cried Helen, gazing 
 with admiring awe into the giant woods of oak and chest- 
 nut and walnut and hickory and hemlock. "We might 
 think ourselves out in the savage wilderness here. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, a hundred miles at least from any crowded city," 
 echoed Isabella, enthusiastically. 
 
 " How soon do we come to your Cousin Livezey's, Mr. 
 Morris ?' ' asked Helen. 
 
 " There, look below you, over that piece of cleared land 
 do you see that chimney?" 
 
 " You surely are not going to take us down the chim- 
 ney, in Santa Glaus' fashion?" 
 
 Lieutenant Morris laughed, and soon a turn in the road 
 brought them down a steep hill to the front of the house. 
 It was, as usual in this section, of stone, two-storied and 
 double-fronted ; and with the customary covered porch, 
 with its two short side benches, before the main door. A 
 wall ran before the house, inclosing a little garden, and in 
 the wall was an aperture, left for the convenience of riders, 
 to aid them in mounting and dismounting. At the dis- 
 tance of about a hundred feet from the side of the dwell- 
 ing, ran the Wissahickon, which here dashed and foamed 
 over a dam, erected for milling purposes. And in front 
 of the house stood the mill itself, with its first story on the 
 level of the house, and its third on that of the hillside
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 59 
 
 obviating the necessity of hoisting up the grain which was 
 to be ground. 
 
 Dismounting and entering the house, Morris and Pem- 
 berton, who both claimed cousinship with the owner, in- 
 troduced the party to Mr. Livezey and his wife. They 
 also were "Friends" or "Quakers," as the "world's 
 people' ' irreverently call them and of the usual hospitable 
 and kindly Quaker type. The room into which the visit- 
 ors were shown was simply furnished, but the thick walls 
 below each window were fashioned into seats, and covered 
 with cushions ; and in a corner of the room was a large 
 East India lounge, made of cane, also cushioned, which 
 pulled out creaking to afford a full-length repose. Helen 
 threw herself upon this immediately, for it was a new piece 
 of furniture to her, and had a thought of Asian skies 
 about it. 
 
 In a few moments a lunch was brought in by their kind 
 hostess, and after doing this justice, Pemberton proposed 
 they should start for a boat-ride and a ramble. As they 
 emerged into the yard again, about a dozen colonial rifle- 
 men in their green and fringed hunting-shirts were 
 lounging on the grass. 
 
 "Why, Morris, is there any danger?" inquired Pem- 
 berton. 
 
 " No your pass will protect you from any of our scout- 
 ing parties, but these riflemen of Morgan's have been de- 
 tached to scour the woods between Chestnut Hill and the 
 Schuylkill, in order to arrest some British deserters who 
 are reported to be giving the farmers considerable trouble. 
 Some think they are spies" with a smile toward the 
 British officer "but the more reasonable opinion is that 
 they are deserters. Spies or deserters, however, they are 
 uncommonly fond of butter and milk and poultry, and oc- 
 casionally even a cow or ox disappears, which, considering
 
 60 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 the condition of our own commissariat, is a thing not to 
 be tolerated." 
 
 " Has Cousin Thomas been troubled ? " inquired Pem- 
 berton. 
 
 " Not before a night or two ago, when they broke into 
 his mill, and carried off some bags of flour. 
 
 " I do not suppose the fellows are at all dangerous," 
 continued the lieutenant; "but as these rangers were 
 about, I thought I might as well introduce you to them, 
 and let them sweep through the woods in advance of you, 
 as they go down." 
 
 "It was very kind of you, indeed," replied Andre. 
 " Our pistols are in our holsters, had we not better take 
 them with us ? " 
 
 " I think there can be no need of that," said Isabella. 
 " What horrible times these are, when we cannot take a 
 little stroll without some dreadful weapon or other, put- 
 ting you in fear of your life, lest it should go off, all the 
 time." 
 
 "Of course, Miss Graham," said Andre, "we will not 
 take them, if you object ; besides, after what Mr. Morris 
 has said, and following, as we shall, right in the track of 
 these brave fellows, I see no necessity for doing so. Do 
 you, Pemberton?" 
 
 " I am for risking that much to save Miss Graham from 
 annoyance." 
 
 " Do you not, then, go along with us, Mr. Morris ? " 
 queried Helen. 
 
 " I regret very much that I cannot," replied he ; " but 
 I must rejoin my men." The "regret" and "must" 
 being, in truth, mainly based upon the fact that Helen 
 had a cavalier engaged already. He had hoped fervently 
 though, as he knew, rather foolishly that it would be 
 otherwise.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 6 1 
 
 "I am very sorry, indeed," rejoined Helen. "Now, 
 suppose I should be in danger," continued she, with a 
 little touch of that coquetry which seemed a part of her 
 very make and nature, " you would not be near to afford 
 me any assistance. You know you are one of my 
 knights." 
 
 Helen blamed herself at once, when the young officer 
 replied, in a tone whose affected pleasantry could not con- 
 ceal its undertone of deep feeling: "Miss Helen, if I 
 thought you were liable to the least shadow of danger, I 
 would be the last to leave you." 
 
 "Well," said Helen, jestingly, "if danger appears, I 
 shall blow this horn of mine with as loud and shrill a blast 
 as that of Roland at Roncesvalles, and perhaps you will 
 hear it all the way to Germantown." Saying this, she 
 blew her hunting-whistle till Isabella clapped her hands 
 over her ears, and the rough riflemen laughed heartily. 
 
 "Not one of us, Miss Helen," cried Andre, throwing 
 himself into a theatrical attitude, "but will rush to your 
 rescue when we hear the blast of that wondrous horn, as 
 Charlemagne and his Paladins rushed or should have 
 rushed to the rescue of the peerless Roland." 
 
 " But with rather better success, I hope," replied Helen, 
 laughing. 
 
 Morris then remounted his horse, and, making him cur- 
 vet a little as is the manner of young gentlemen cant- 
 ered lightly up the slope, until a turn of the road concealed 
 him from view. The riflemen, with a sergeant at their 
 head, moved off Indian-file around to the back of the 
 house, and up a wooded hill which rose immediately be- 
 hind it, extending their line to sweep the forest. While 
 the party in whom we are more immediately interested, 
 turned, under Pemberton's guidance, to the water-side of 
 the house, and passing through a neatly-kept flower-garden,
 
 62 PEMBERTON ', 
 
 prettily terraced, descended a flight of steps to a spot just 
 above the dam, where a little skiff was moored. 
 
 Carefully seating themselves in the boat, Pemberton 
 took the oars, and rowed gently up the pellucid stream. 
 It was now about noon, and the sun shone down upon 
 them with a soft but not unpleasant splendor. On each 
 side the high, dark, wooded hills were draped with the 
 magnificent hues of the Autumn season amphitheatres of 
 green and crimson, and brown and gold. And reflected 
 in the still, glassy water, was all this pomp of variegated 
 glory. 
 
 " This is magnificent ! " exclaimed Andre, enthusiasti- 
 cally. " The old world has nothing to show like this. It 
 is the gorgeous splendor of an Indian princess." 
 
 "It is fairy land ! " cried Helen, enthusiastically. 
 
 " See that cedar ! " said Isabella, " with its deep green 
 lighted up by a single spot of blazing crimson." 
 
 "And the woods are full of purple grapes," exclaimed 
 Helen. " Are they good to eat, Pemberton ? " 
 
 "Try them," said Pemberton, bringing the boat near 
 one of the banks. " Daughter of Eve, pluck and eat." 
 
 "Pshaw these small ones are sour and full of seed." 
 
 "Those are Chicken grapes. The others are better, 
 the Fox grapes. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, they will do tolerably well they are sweet." 
 
 " One moment, Pemberton," cried Andre, extending 
 his hand to grasp a pretty blue flower that grew along the 
 margin. "What do you call this, ladies?" 
 
 "It is the Fringed Gentian," said Isabella. 
 
 "I don't know what it signifies, Miss Helen I maybe 
 doing something very serious or shocking, indeed but 
 will you accept this blue Gentian from one of the very 
 humblest of your devoted admirers ? " 
 
 " Captain Andr6, I do wish you would leave all that
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 63 
 
 style of speeches at the theatre down South Street," re- 
 plied Helen, drawing back the hand she had involuntarily 
 extended. 
 
 "I beg pardon, Miss Helen. Will you accept this 
 flower in token of forgiveness, and as a pledge of my ear- 
 nest friendship? " 
 
 "I am most happy to do so," replied Helen, molli- 
 fied. 
 
 " What a delightful, tart, sweet, spirited and fascinating 
 creature she is," thought Andre, as he leaned over the side 
 of the boat, and dallied with the cool, clear water. 
 
 " Leap out, Andre, with the chain, and hold the boat," 
 cried Pemberton, bringing the skiff up by the side of a 
 rock, and at the entrance of a little cove. " This is Cres- 
 heim creek." 
 
 Fastening the boat, they made their way along the slop- 
 ing, rugged side of a shallow and rocky stream, that 
 emptied at that place into the Wissahickon. Soon they 
 came to where it poured over and between huge rocks and 
 boulders into a little pool. 
 
 "Now for a climb, girls," said Pemberton. "Andre, 
 you take care of Miss Helen." 
 
 " Miss me no miss, among these rocks, Arthur. It is 
 out of place," cried Helen. " Here I am simply Helen 
 Graham. These old rocks do not like such courtly titles. 
 This huge one is my father. ' ' 
 
 " Let me help you up on your father's shoulders, then," 
 laughed Andr6, in response to the ardent girl. Without 
 much help from the gentlemen, for both were supple-limbed 
 and sure-footed, the ladies made their way to the top of a 
 huge moss-covered rock, and gazed down the cleft where 
 the stream was pouring. 
 
 "That is the Devil's pool," said Pemberton, pointing 
 to the still water below. "The fall is rather quiet now,
 
 64 PEMBERTON j 
 
 but after a rain it is quite a roaring cascade, I assure 
 you." 
 
 " Is the pool deep? " asked Helen. 
 
 "The devil is said to be very deep, " replied Andre; 
 " and of course his pool must be, or else it would not hold 
 him." 
 
 "Ah, you have caught it you have caught it at last," 
 cried Pemberton, shaking his head mournfully. 
 
 "Caught what?" 
 
 "The vile habit of punning. It is said to be in the 
 Philadelphia atmosphere. I believe that even Washington 
 would pun were he to live here for six months. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, nonsense," said Helen "how deep is it?" 
 ' I will give you two authorities, and you may take 
 your choice. I know, of course, which you will prefer. 
 When Morris and I were boys, he one day, as he says, 
 took a line, and attaching a weight to it, lowered it down, 
 and down, into the pool ; but he could find no bottom. 
 Not long after, I thought I would try ; and I took a long 
 fishing pole, and pushed it down, and down, until I could 
 push it no farther; and thus very easily found the 
 bottom '' 
 
 " Of course I accept Mr. Morris's statement as the most 
 reasonable and reliable," replied Helen. "And I think 
 your father, Pemberton, ought to have taken that same 
 long fishing pole and broken it into very little pieces over 
 your naughty back. You are by far too skeptical, Arthur. 
 I hate skepticism. It is that which makes men rebels." 
 
 "Hush! hush! hush!" cried Andre, "you know that 
 subject is tabooed." 
 
 "Well," said Pemberton, "it maybe that there is a 
 cleft somewhere between the rocks, which will let a stone 
 down a good ways. I thought myself that there was a
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 65 
 
 hidden passage somewhere below, letting the water flow 
 underground into the creek." 
 
 "Ah, now you begin to talk a little more sensibly," 
 said Helen. "You could not persuade me that there is 
 not something mysterious and uncanny about this pool 
 why the whole place bears witness to it." 
 
 "If you ladies are sufficiently satisfied," said Pember- 
 ton, " suppose we stroll up the Wissahickon for half a mile 
 or so though we shall have to return again of course this 
 way. Come, Bella." 
 
 "Wait one moment more," said Helen to Andre, as 
 their companions left them ; " I can hardly tear myself 
 away from this romantic spot." 
 
 " Allow me to assist your beautiful self down this rugged 
 descent, Miss Helen," said Andre, in the courtly phrase 
 he was rather too fond of, as she rose from the rock on 
 which she had been sitting, a few minutes afterwards. 
 
 "John Andre," exclaimed Helen, pausing and facing 
 him, " I would beg of you to forget for a while the theatre, 
 and the formal language of polite society, and so long as 
 we are in the presence of these old gray Quaker rocks and 
 these solemn pines, to be simply a sincere and earnest 
 man." 
 
 Andre's brown face colored to the forehead. 
 
 " I thought that with you, Helen, I always had been 
 both sincere and earnest." 
 
 Helen made no reply but accepted his assistance in 
 making her way over and around the precipitous rocks and 
 boulders. That she was not very greatly displeased, he 
 could easily infer though there was nothing of the cox- 
 comb in his nature by the freedom with which she 
 allowed her hand to remain in his grasp, and the readiness 
 with which she placed it upon his shoulder when necessary. 
 
 "Ah me, I am tired let us rest a moment," said she,
 
 66 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 when they had reached the Wissahickon again, after a 
 short but rugged tramp, and gone up the stream a little 
 further. " Here is a mossy seat, made on purpose." 
 
 It was a low ledge of stone, moss-covered, at the base of 
 a little cliff which rose behind it in a wall of rock some 
 ten or fifteen feet high. 
 
 "You have made no reply yet, Helen, to that last re- 
 mark of mine. When was I other than earnest and truth- 
 ful with you ? You know that of all the women in the 
 world, I think of no one more highly than of you. ' ' 
 
 "Are you sincere and truthful now? I was told by a 
 friend of yours, only yesterday, that you always wore upon 
 your breast the miniature of a young and beautiful woman. 
 If so, you ought to think of her more highly than you 
 think of me. ' ' 
 
 Andr6 had been standing before her. Now he sat down 
 by her side. 
 
 " It is true, Helen, that I wear upon my breast the like- 
 ness of Honora Sneyd; but it is also true that there 
 is no woman in the world I care for more than for you." 
 The tones of the young officer, always soft and mellow, 
 grew softer with that suppressed tenderness which women 
 love. 
 
 "You give me a riddle," replied she, with studied cold- 
 ness. "I am not good at guessing riddles. Do you no 
 longer love this Miss Honora Sneyd ? Then why wear her 
 likeness?" 
 
 " Honora Sneyd is now Honora Edgeworth has been 
 so for years. Helen, I loved, or thought I loved her, pas- 
 sionately. She thought she loved me. But it seems she 
 was mistaken ; and when another came, and offered his 
 hand, she accepted it. If I did not care for you greatly, 
 would I thus lay bare my inmost heart before you?" 
 
 Andr6 started from his seat and for a few moments paced
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 67 
 
 up and down the leaf-covered ground before her. Then 
 he resumed 
 
 "I could not give her up, married though she was. 
 When I was taken prisoner two years ago at St. Johns, the 
 only thing I saved from my capturers was her likeness 
 and saving that, I thought myself happy. Still my passion, 
 thus denied and hopeless, must have been gradually wear- 
 ing itself out. For the last month, I have scarcely thought 
 a moment of Honora Sneyd and yet, so powerful is the 
 force of habit, I have continued to wear her image." 
 
 He resumed his seat by Helen's side ; and then said, in 
 a still lower tone, " Do you think that a noble-hearted 
 woman could ever esteem a man's second love, as if it had 
 been his first ? Do you think it possible that I, who loved 
 so devotedly then, can love another even more passionately 
 and truly now?" 
 
 " I, for one woman, would rather have the second love, 
 which is the man's, than the first love, which was the 
 boy's" and Helen paused, and seemed listening. "I 
 thought I heard Pemberton and Isabella returning." 
 
 "It was nothing but a squirrel dropping his nut," said 
 Andre. 
 
 "I thought it sounded like a footstep," rejoined Helen. 
 " Had we not better go on, and see what has become of 
 them?" 
 
 "In one moment,' replied Andr6. The woman was 
 already satisfied, for the time ; the man, man-like, would 
 have his conclusions made doubly sure, and leave no room 
 for doubt. "Helen," continued he in a low but impas- 
 sioned tone, " I love you better than ever I loved Honora 
 Sneyd." 
 
 " Dear John, I have loved you since that first hour two 
 years ago," whispered Helen, looking up into his brown
 
 68 PEMBERTON J 
 
 eyes with a look that he had never seen in that spirited 
 face before. 
 
 He put his arm around her for the first time he pressed 
 his glowing cheek to hers. She submitted for a moment 
 then she widened the distance between them. 
 
 "Was Honora Sneyd so very pretty then?" she 
 said. 
 
 He took a small miniature from his bosom. " See, she 
 also has blue eyes and golden hair. ' ' 
 
 ' ' My hair is not golden. ' ' 
 
 "It is golden, in the sun. I like your hair the best. 
 It is the richer looking. ' ' 
 
 "She is very beautiful," said Helen; but there was a 
 proud satisfaction in the tone. It was as if she had said, 
 what she really would have scorned herself for even con- 
 sciously thinking, much less saying "but I am more 
 beautiful." 
 
 "And she is now Mrs. Edgeworth?" continued she. 
 
 "Yes, and the mother of two children, living what she 
 so greatly loves, a quiet and happy domestic life. I 
 think," continued Andre, his face flushing, "that that 
 really was the bar fate set between us. She is not the least 
 ambitious she must have felt, even almost without per- 
 ceiving it, that I am very different caring not so much 
 for peace and quiet, as for a proud and brilliant career. 
 She never could have sympathized with me as you can, and 
 will, Helen." 
 
 The eyes of the girl shone like two stars ; her cheek* 
 flushed ; her proud bosom heaved. " You are my king of 
 men you long for the station which is your natural right. 
 And I am fit to be your queen." 
 
 "Now, Pemberton," continued Andr6, "fine fellow as 
 he is, has no ambition scoffs at it. He would be satis- 
 fied, he says, with a quiet life among his books, at such a
 
 OR, ONE. HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 69 
 
 place as Woodland or even in some little cottage on the 
 Schuylkill." 
 
 " Isabella fully agrees with him in that," replied Helen. 
 " Think of such a glorious woman as Bella, such a perfect 
 queen, passing her whole life sequestered in some little 
 cottage in the neighborhood of Philadelphia. I believe 
 that both she and Pemberton, when they marry, will aban- 
 don even our little provincial society, and play Darby and 
 Joan in the most approved fashion." 
 
 " I think I see a career before me," continued Andre, 
 proudly. " If I fail, it shall not be for want of effort and 
 daring. I am simply a captain now. In one year I mean 
 to be major, in another colonel in another, perhaps, 
 general. See how rapidly Churchill rose. I have given 
 you my heart, Helen ; when I give you my hand it shall 
 have something in it." 
 
 " I am in no hurry," said the girl, with a lofty look in 
 her eyes. " I am ready to wait for you, Andre forever, 
 if need be ! And I know I can often assist you in mount- 
 ing the steeps of fortune and fame. I would scorn to be 
 an incumbrance to you. Trust me entirely and utterly 
 with all your plans and schemes let me be one with you 
 in heart and life. You shall never have cause to blush at 
 any weakness or indiscretion of mine." 
 
 "I shall trust you entirely! utterly! And when I 
 have won my coveted honors, we shall have the happiness 
 of knowing that we have planned and toiled for each 
 other." 
 
 But we must leave these young lovers together for a 
 while, rapt in their blissful dreams of a glorious future, 
 and give a fragment of another conversation, taking place 
 at the same time, not a quarter of a mile off. 
 
 These, sitting on this fallen trunk, within the solemn
 
 7O PEMBERTDN j 
 
 shade of this dark grove of hemlocks sitting so closely, 
 and toying with each other's hands and hair, and gazing 
 proudly and fondly into each other's eyes have evidently 
 been acknowledged lovers for some time to themselves, 
 if not to the world. Pembertoh is speaking. 
 
 "I am not, as you know, Bella, in the least ambitious 
 and I dislike and abhor the soldier's bloody trade but 
 I confess I can hardly endure to remain quietly at home, 
 when the great Cause is in such peril." 
 
 " I really think it would break your mother's heart, Ar- 
 thur, if you should join the army. To go out to war 
 would be a sad blow of itself; but to join those whom she 
 considers rebels, would be something almost unendurable 
 to her." 
 
 "That is what I have said to myself all along," replied 
 he. " But it looks as if I were a coward, to stay at home 
 for any reason whatever." 
 
 " But you know, yourself, that it is not cowardice. 
 Why regard then what others may think or say ? Besides, 
 are you not really affording more valuable aid to the Colo- 
 nial cause, than you could give in any other manner ?' ' 
 
 " They all say so. Washington himself says I must not 
 leave the city. But I hate this kind of service." 
 
 "You do not deceive anybody. You pry into no per- 
 son's confidence. You let every one know that you are 
 not thoroughly loyal. You merely avail yourself of out- 
 side means of obtaining information," said Isabella in a 
 low voice, and glancing around her, as if remembering the 
 old adage that " trees have ears." 
 
 " I know it," replied he, in the same low, cautious tone. 
 " I would not do it in any other way. But if I am disco- 
 vered, notwithstanding, my name will suffer reproach and 
 I may suffer the fate of a spy."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 71 
 
 " A spy what, you, in your own city your own 
 house?" and Bella whispered the dangerous words. 
 
 " Military men are not much given to nice legal distinc- 
 tions, Bella. You see I am not acting in the dark. I 
 know my position and its dangers. And I have taken this 
 opportunity to let you know them, thinking it your right. 
 Besides, I have been myself a little puzzled ; and I have 
 great confidence in your sound judgment and noble in- 
 stincts, my sweet love." 
 
 " I never dreamed of this terrible view of your conduct. 
 I shall never see that flag waving again, without a flutter at 
 my heart," said Isabella huskily. 
 
 Pemberton was too much occupied with his own 
 thoughts, to note how seriously his fair companion was 
 affected. Else perhaps he would not have continued. 
 
 " What shall I do, Bella ? Shall I go on with this dan- 
 gerous business, or shall I give it up?" 
 
 The color fled from her face, and left it like marble. 
 She put out her hands before her, as if pressing away from 
 her some hideous thing. She tried to speak, but the 
 words gurgled in her throat. Suddenly she threw her 
 arms around his neck, and burst into uncontrollable 
 tears. 
 
 "Forgive me, Bella! I thought not it would move 
 you thus. You are usually so calm and self-possessed, you 
 know. Cheer up, my sweet, there is no danger yet and 
 probably will be none. ' ' 
 
 "You asked me a question, Arthur," said Bella, re- 
 gaining her composure with a strong effort. " It came 
 upon me so suddenly, you see, that it unwomaned me a 
 little. ' ' She paused a moment, and twined the beautiful 
 bright hair she admired so much around her fingers. " You 
 have taught me a British soldier's daughter to love the 
 cause of the Colonies as I love you, to revere it as a re-
 
 72 PEMBERTON; 
 
 ligion, to hesitate at nothing lawful that will hasten its 
 triumph. I would give my own life this day, if I could 
 ensure its success but I am a woman, and do not ask me 
 to decide that you shall thus peril yours. Decide for 
 yourself, and I will submit to your decision, as a woman 
 should and then leave the event to the good God." 
 
 " Did you hear Andre questioning old Foxey this morn- 
 ing?" continued she, after a pause. 
 
 " It meant nothing, and Foxey is well named that old 
 negro, stupid as he looks and talks, is wider awake than 
 most white men." 
 
 " There is only one man that I am really afraid of," 
 continued Isabella. "It is that Tarleton, with those 
 small, snaky eyes of his. Promise me one thing, Arthur. " 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " If Tarleton ever begins to question and suspect, that 
 you will escape at once." 
 
 "Thank you for the hint, Bella. I will, you may de- 
 pend upon it, if I have the chance. But with Tarleton it 
 generally is a word and a blow, and the blow first. ' ' 
 
 "Where can Helen and Andre be? I thought they 
 would have overtaken us by this time, ' ' said Isabella, ris- 
 ing to her feet. 
 
 "I imagine that Helen and Andre are having a very 
 pleasant time by themselves," replied Pemberton, smiling. 
 "Andre is terribly smitten, or I never had the com- 
 plaint." 
 
 "Helen ditto," said her sister, smiling. 
 
 "Well, they are a splendid couple but what then is to 
 become of my poor cousin, Morris? He is over head and 
 hair in love also with Helen, ever since she saved his life, 
 as he is pleased to term it." 
 
 "Poor fellow!" sighed Isabella. "It cannot be 
 helped though ; for Helen is terribly loyal, and besides,
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 73 
 
 thinks Andre a Chevalier Bayard and an Admirable Crich- 
 ton both in one." 
 
 " I do not wonder at it. I love John Andre, loyal as 
 he is, more than I ever expected to love mortal man. He 
 is a noble fellow true to the core. He has only one 
 fault he is too ambitious. ' By that sin fell the angels. ' ' 
 
 During this latter conversation they had been retracing 
 their steps, and soon came upon Helen and Andre, who 
 were seated about three feet apart, and appeared to be 
 carrying on a brisk conversation, in a light tone of badi- 
 nage. 
 
 "We were just wondering if you never were coming 
 back," cried Helen, as she saw them though the crimson 
 of her cheeks was richer and more widely spread than 
 usual, as her sister saw at a glance. 
 
 But she was a good and discreet sister, and knew when 
 to talk, and when to be silent. So she simply said that 
 she thought it was about time they were returning home, 
 and passed on with Pemberton, while Helen and Andre 
 demurely followed. 
 
 "It is not late, let us climb up that rock above the pool 
 once more," cried Helen. 
 
 The others assenting, they were soon grouped again on 
 the top of the huge oblong rock or boulder overlooking 
 the Devil's pool. 
 
 Suddenly a heavy stone fell splashing into the stream 
 above them, and the whole party almost involuntarily 
 turned their heads, to see where the stone had come 
 from.
 
 74 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE D ESERTERS. 
 
 Offscourings of the war a mutinous crew 
 They roam the woods at will, and know no law 
 Save their own wicked pleasure. 
 
 " Stir not a step, for your lives !" 
 
 Such was the rude command which came from one of 
 four men, dressed in torn and faded British uniforms, who 
 stood with muskets in their hands, not more than thirty or 
 forty yards in a direct air line from them. 
 
 Our party were grouped, as we have said, on the top of 
 the rock. They were overshadowed by huge hemlocks, 
 but perfectly exposed to view, as there were no low 
 branches. Behind them, on the brow of a lofty precipice, 
 formed by the jutting out of a narrow ridge from the 
 higher portion of the hill, and about fifty feet above their 
 level, stood the deserters one of them wearing the chev- 
 rons of a corporal. Between the two parties was a deep 
 chasm or ravine but the muskets of the deserters com- 
 manded the entire position. 
 
 Andre took in the aspect of affairs at a glance with a 
 soldier's eye. Stepping back on the rock, a little out of 
 the roar of the waterfall, he cried sternly 
 
 "What mean you?" 
 
 What the reply would have been, we know not, for at 
 that instant Helen placed her whistle to her lips, and blew 
 a shrill and prolonged note, which pierced through every 
 nook and cranny of the ravine. 
 
 With a volley of fearful oaths, the deserters raised their 
 muskets to their shoulders, and one of them, a vile-looking 
 wretch, fired. Andre had sprung in an instant in front of 
 Helen ; but if the villain's left foot had not slipped on the
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 75 
 
 dry leaves, as he threw it out when taking aim, Helen 
 probably would have paid for her daring with her life. 
 As it was, the ball whistled just over her head. 
 
 "How dare you fire without orders," cried the leader 
 of the deserters " do you mean to bring the riflemen on 
 us?" 
 
 "They are fur enough away," angrily responded the 
 ruffian ; " they are down below the Falls by this time." 
 
 " Then, what harm could that silly whistle do us ? 
 But," raising his voice, " if you try that again, my lassie, 
 the next bullet will be surer aimed." 
 
 "What do you mean by this ruffian -like conduct?" ex- 
 claimed Pemberton. " If you fire another shot, I'll have 
 you all hung for it." 
 
 "Aye, aye, I suppose you will," replied the deserter. 
 " But you must first catch your hare before you skin him 
 mustn't he, boys?" 
 
 His comrades laughed recklessly and defiantly. "Ask 
 Captain Andry what he's done with his red coat," said 
 one of them. " Has he gone over to the rebs?" 
 
 "Don't get off that rock!" exclaimed their leader, 
 savagely, and levelling his musket again, as Isabella, her 
 eyes flashing, made a movement as if designing to leave 
 their perilous position. 
 
 "Do you want money?" cried Pemberton. 
 
 "Aye! money, and watches, and rings everything! 
 We'll send a man down to search you." 
 
 "We will not submit to be searched," exclaimed both 
 the young men in a breath. 
 
 "You cannot help yourselves." 
 
 "We cannot? come on and see!" cried Andr, put- 
 ting his hand in his breast pocket. 
 
 The deserters talked together in low tones for a few mo- 
 ments. They could kill them all from that distance ; but,
 
 76 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 if they did, they would themselves be hunted down like 
 wolves. To attempt to overpower the young men in a 
 close struggle would be attended with danger, for they 
 might have dirks or pistols. At last their leader, the cor- 
 poral, again spoke in a loud voice. 
 
 "Put down your purses, your watches and your rings 
 on the top of the rock ; and then go, and be d d to you." 
 "You will not molest us further? " cried Pemberton. 
 "No curse you." 
 
 " What security have we for that ? " asked Andre. 
 . " The only security you can have, the honor of a 
 British soldier," scoffed the leader. 
 
 "In the sacred name of God, and of the Virgin Mo- 
 ther? " continued Andre; adding, in a low voice to Pem- 
 berton, " I know that man ; he was the only English Ro- 
 man Catholic in our regiment." 
 
 '"In the name of God and the holy Virgin Mother ! " 
 repeated the man, lifting his hat, while one of the others 
 imitated his example. " But hurry with you we're not 
 going to stay here all day." 
 
 The young men took out their gold watches worn 
 more unfrequently at that time than now, even silver ones 
 being not very common and laid them with their purses 
 on the moss-covered portion of the rock. 
 
 "Now for the ladies come, hurry! " cried the de- 
 serter. 
 
 Helen threw down her purse disdainfully ; Isabella 
 calmly placed hers with the rest. They did not seem 
 very heavy ; but ladies' purses are expected to be lighter 
 than gentlemen's besides, they had both taken the pre- 
 caution of undoing the clasps, and emptying them as far 
 as possible, before taking them out of their pockets. Each 
 laid down a ring or two also none showing afterward on 
 either fair hand.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 77 
 
 "Stay" cried the head deserter, as they were about 
 leaving the rock. " Captain, I think you have a small 
 gold case, with a picture inside it, on a blue ribbon around 
 your neck." 
 
 "Sneak and spy!" cried Helen, her woman's heart 
 excited beyond endurance ' ' disgrace alike to the name 
 of soldier and of man ! if you ever had loved a wife, a 
 sister, or a mother, you would scorn to make a demand 
 like that." 
 
 Wretch as the deserter was, he evidently was shamed a 
 little. "Some keepsake from the young lady herself, I 
 suppose," cried he. "Well, we won't be too hard on 
 the captain. He shall keep his love picture. But you 
 must put down that silver whistle and its chain, young 
 lady. That's not a love-gift, too, I suppose? " 
 
 Helen was about to lay down her whistle, when a com- 
 motion was evident among the deserters. They had faced 
 about, and were now standing with their muskets levelled, 
 apparently peering into the foliage in front of them. 
 
 "What does it all mean? " exclaimed Helen. 
 
 "I hope it means that the riflemen have found them," 
 replied Pemberton. 
 
 "Fire ! " was at this moment called out rapparently at 
 a considerable distance. A scattering report followed 
 as of a dozen rifles from parties too intent upon their 
 aim, to care much about firing closely together. Three 
 of the deserters fell at once to the ground, as if stone-dead. 
 Their leader, however, flung back a yell of defiance, fired 
 his own musket, and then snatched the muskets of his 
 comrades in turn from the earth, and discharged them at 
 the advancing assailants. With a shout, when the last 
 barrel was emptied, the riflemen rushed upon him. Club- 
 bing his musket, the deserter struck out savagely right and 
 left, backing sometimes to the very verge of the cliff.
 
 j S PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " Take him alive, men shooting is too good for him !" 
 shouted a stern voice. 
 
 "Never! never! you cursed Yankees!" howled the 
 deserter desperately keeping his assailants at bay, even 
 on the utmost verge of the precipice. 
 
 "Then die, like a dog!" shouted a stalwart ranger, 
 bringing the butt of his rifle full upon the ruffian's temple. 
 The deserter reeled, staggered for a moment, and crashed 
 down the side of the precipice a hundred feet to the sharp 
 rocks below. 
 
 The young ladies turned their eyes away from the horrid 
 sight. Then Helen started forward involuntarily, as if to 
 assist him. 
 
 "It is useless," said Pemberton. "He is past help." 
 
 " He has died the death of a deserter and a thief!" ex- 
 claimed Andre, with compressed lips. "They are not 
 worth thinking of this world has had enough of them." 
 
 " I suppose so," said Isabella. " Poor fellows !" 
 
 "Here come our gallant rescuers," exclaimed Helen, 
 as the riflemen began to file down into the glen. " I sup- 
 pose we may take up our treasures now." 
 
 We need scarcely describe the enthusiastic welcome with 
 which the rangers were received. Even the roughest of 
 these hardy sons of the frontier, felt rejoiced that he was 
 one of the party which had come so opportunely to their 
 aid. For both the ladies shook hands with every man at 
 least once, and thanked him personally for his share in the 
 fight. And one of the rangers, who had received a slight 
 bullet wound in the arm, was envied the hurt by all his 
 comrades. For Helen would bandage the wound with her 
 own handkerchief, and both she and Isabella made as much 
 ado about it, as if the wounded man were injured for life. 
 
 " Simon lets on to be a great deal more hurt than he 
 is," laughed one of the riflemen to another.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 79 
 
 "That's so but I would too, under the same aggra- 
 watin' carcumstances," replied his comrade. At which 
 there was a general grunt of assent. 
 
 "It was a lucky thing you came up when you did," 
 said Pemberton, to the sergeant commanding the party. 
 
 "Wall, there wasn't much of what you call luck in it," 
 replied the sergeant. "The fact is, we shouldn't a been 
 hyere at all, hadn't it been for Lefttenant Morris?" 
 
 "What is that about Lieutenant Morris?" cried Helen. 
 
 " The sergeant says," replied Andr, " that the lieuten- 
 ant sent him here." 
 
 " Wall," continued the sergeant, " we had got down to 
 the mouth of the crick, and were coming out of the woods 
 on the Ridge, when who should dash up but the lefttenant. 
 ' I'm not asy in my mind, sargeant,' says he. ' Thim de- 
 sarters may be paceable characters, mere hen-roost thieves, 
 or they may not. I wish,' says he, ' you'd just tarn back, 
 and go up to Luseley's agen. I wouldn't like any harm 
 to come to them ladies.' " 
 
 " Spoken like a gentleman and a soldier," said Andr6. 
 
 "'Wall, lefttenant, it's all the same to me,' says I. 
 And so we tarned back, lookin' a little closer arter the var- 
 ments. Soon we cum on a trail. Bless your hearts ef 
 they hadn't hollered out a cave under some rocks and we 
 had gone clean by them ; and Simon there a half-Injun 
 too ! Drat it but we were mad. All of a sudden Simon 
 sed ' I heered the lady's whissel. ' ' No?' says I. ' Yes,' 
 says he. 'Git out,' says I. 'lam sure,' says he. But 
 we all heered the gun plain enough. 'Ah,' says I, 'that's 
 your little game is it ?' We tore along, sending Simon 
 fust ; he's half-Injun, you know. Then we heered them 
 talking and closed in all roun' them. Jist in time too, 
 I s'pect. I reckon the ladies were gittin' a little skeart." 
 
 "Not much more scared than the gentlemen," replied
 
 So PEMBERTON J 
 
 Pemberton, smiling. " I am free to admit that I, for one, 
 felt very uneasy. But it is time now we were making our 
 way back to Mr. Livezey's." 
 
 Some of the riflemen had already investigated the con- 
 dition of the deserters, and finding life extinct in all of 
 them, had gone off to procure cpades to bury them with. 
 The others divided into two parties, one to await their re- 
 turn, the other to continue on their way to Mr. Livezey's. 
 
 And in a very sober and thoughtful mood indeed, the 
 gay party of the morning sought their boat, while Pember- 
 ton rowed slowly back. 
 
 At the landing stood Lieutenant Morris. " Welcome 
 back !" cried he. "I hope you have had a pleasant ex- 
 cursion to Cresheim." 
 
 " Here we are, all safe," answered Helen, to whom his 
 eyes seemed more particularly turned. 
 
 " I am heartily glad of it, I confess," ejaculated Morris, 
 fervently. " To tell the truth, my wound seems to have 
 enfeebled my mind a little, for a more foolishly anxious 
 three hours I never passed. Why, if the Indians had been 
 upon you, and scalping you, as they did poor Jane McCrea, 
 I could not have felt worse." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Morris, we came about as near being 
 scalped as I ever want to come," said Helen, impres- 
 sively. " But I whistled, as I said I would, and you sent 
 help." 
 
 "I sent help! " 
 
 "Yes, the riflemen they came just in the nick of 
 time." 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? Were you in danger, then ? " 
 
 By this time they were on the porch ; and, taking a 
 seat, Helen recounted, with frequent interruptions from 
 the rest of the party, all that had taken place. 
 
 "And now, Lieutenant Morris," said she, holding out
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 8 1 
 
 her hand, "I think we are fully even only the balance 
 is a good deal in your favor. ' ' 
 
 Morris took the fair hand, but seemed a little puzzled 
 what to do with it. It was not a very small hand, one of 
 those you can hardly feel, but the proper hand to belong 
 to a rather tall, finely-developed woman. It was well- 
 shaped, soft, somewhat plump, and glowing with vitality. 
 Such a hand, in short, as thrills a lover through and 
 through. But the Lieutenant, as we said, did not seem to 
 know exactly what to do with it. If it had been a man's 
 hand, he would have given it a hearty grasp, and this was 
 what Helen expected ; but, after gently fumbling with the 
 fair, soft fingers a little in his embarrassment, he bent 
 down his head, raised it to his lips, and, before the whole 
 party, as he had done once before in private, fervently but 
 reverently kissed it. 
 
 "Fie, Mr. Morris! " cried Helen, flushing. "You 
 must not do that." 
 
 To save embarrassment, Pemberton interposed "It 
 is full time we were going, I think. Morris, will you have 
 the horses brought up, while we go in and bid adieu to 
 our Cousin Livezeys?"
 
 82 PEMBERTON J 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PHIL MORRIS. 
 
 " For indeed I know 
 Of no more subtle master under Heaven 
 Than is the maiden passion for a maid, 
 Not only to keep down the base in man, 
 But teach high thoughts and amiable words. 
 And courtliness, and the desire of fame, 
 And love of truth, and all that makes a man." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 As our party emerged from the valley of the Wis- 
 sahickon, on their homeward ride, the sound of a distant 
 but heavy cannonade was heard. Helen looked inquir- 
 ingly at Andr. 
 
 "It is no secret now," said he; "a corps, mainly of 
 Hessians, under Count Donop, is attacking Fort Mercer, 
 while the fleet is bombarding Fort Mifflin." 
 
 An anxious look passed over the faces of Pemberton 
 and his cousin. "God defend the right!" exclaimed 
 Morris, fervently. 
 
 " God defend the right ! " repeated Andre, with equal 
 fervor. 
 
 The serious events of the day, and the continued noise of 
 the cannonade, naturally had a sobering influence on the 
 spirits of all. They could not laugh and jest when their 
 fellow beings, many of whom on both sides were per- 
 sonally known to them, were hazarding their lives at the 
 musket and cannon's mouth. And they rode rapidly for- 
 ward, almost in perfect silence. 
 
 As they turned into Germantown, Lieutenant Morris 
 bade them good-bye, with many mutually expressed kindly 
 wishes. The others kept down the road, at a rapid canter 
 the noise of the cannon growing louder and louder as 
 they neared the city.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 83 
 
 " I never saw Morris like he was to-day," said Pember- 
 ton to Isabella, as they drew up into a walk at the three- 
 mile run to breathe their horses a little. " Phil is gen- 
 erally so overflowing with reckless gayety and good-humor. 
 He really did not seem the same man." 
 
 " His wound, in weakening him, has probably affected 
 his spirits. Did you observe how pale he was, when not 
 excited by the conversation ? ' ' 
 
 " Of course I did. By the way, it was a little curious, 
 Bella, that you and Helen should have had the oppor- 
 tunity of doing so great a service to a cousin of mine." 
 
 "Yes, and that shows the necessity of helping every 
 one when you can, no matter how great a stranger he may 
 be," replied Isabella. "I had no idea when I heard him 
 called Lieutenant Morris, that it was your old crony, 
 whom you had so often spoken about." 
 
 "But you have not seen Phil Morris, even yet," re- 
 joined Pemberton. " This grave and sentimental young 
 man we saw to-day, is very different from the Phil of 
 whose pranks at old Benezet's school, I have so often told 
 you the best mimic, and most reckless and daring fellow 
 in the whole school. Did I ever tell you about the negro 
 boy?" 
 
 " Not that I remember." 
 
 "You know Benezet is the kindest-hearted and most 
 benevolent man in the whole world." 
 
 " I think he must be, if that story I heard you tell 
 about his feeding the rats down in the area is true." 
 
 " It is sober truth, Bell. He used to feed the rats regu- 
 larly every morning. He did it to keep them honest. 
 He said that rats only stole because they were forced to 
 do so from necessity, and that his rats never stole any- 
 thing. And he will not eat poultry he says it is like 
 eating his neighbors."
 
 84 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " What a comical old fellow ! " 
 
 " He is a saint if goodness ever made a man a saint. 
 And Phil knew it, and would have fought for him any 
 time but what will not a boy do for a joke ? " 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 "Blackened his face and hands, and passed himself off 
 for a poor little negro runaway from Virginia, in the 
 sight of the whole school. Benezet is a great hater of 
 slavery, you know. Oh, but the whoppers that Phil told 
 of the way he had been abused down South while we, 
 boys, knowing the joke, roared with laughter." 
 
 " I should think that Mr. Benezet would have suspected 
 something from your merriment." 
 
 " He is too sincere and guileless for that. He was in- 
 expressibly shocked by it however though he could 
 hardly credit such boyish heartlessness, save by imputing 
 it to the hardening effect of 'the wicked system' upon our 
 youthful minds." 
 
 " Did he find out the deception? " 
 
 " Never to this day. Though he could not account 
 for the sudden disappearance of the injured negro, save 
 by supposing he had been seized by some minion of his 
 master, and carried back into slavery." 
 
 "I confess I should never have accused Mr. Morris of 
 any such prank as that," said Isabella. " He seemed to- 
 day as sober as a judge. But there is a great difference 
 between being sick and well. 'A little blood in the veins 
 more or less,' I once heard my father say, 'often makes 
 the difference between the saint and the sinner.' ' 
 
 "I fear," replied Pemberton, smiling, "however true 
 that saying may be in a general way, that in Phil's case, 
 his unusual seriousness is owing quite as much to Cupid's 
 arrow in his heart, as to the British ball in his shoulder." 
 
 "If so, you had better warn him at once," replied Isa-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 85 
 
 bella, earnestly. " Helen could never love a rebel ; and, 
 besides you have eyes, Arthur." 
 
 'I shall take the first opportunity to enlighten Phil," 
 said Pemberton. " I love him too well to have him suffer 
 with heartache." 
 
 "And I will caution Helen. She does not mean to 
 flirt, and she does not exactly flirt ; but to fling about the 
 bright sparkles of her eyes, and to captivate men with the 
 tones of her voice, and the thrilling touches of her hand, 
 seems to come as natural to her as breathing. You know 
 it is natural to her, Arthur. ' ' 
 
 " Of course I do. You might as well blame a rose for 
 flinging around its fragrance, or a star for twinkling. But 
 it's a pity she couldn't carry a badge on her breast, 
 labelled ' hands off", this property is not for sale. ' And 
 yet I suppose it would make no difference every moth 
 still would fly right into the bright fire of her eyes, and 
 get his foolish wings scorched." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Isabella, " they are coming up to us."
 
 86 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE DREAM OF ANDREA 
 
 " There is no doubt that there exist such voices 
 
 Yet would I not call those 
 
 Voices of warning, that announce to us 
 
 Only the inevitable. As the sun, 
 
 Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image 
 
 In the atmosphere, so often do the spirits 
 
 Of great events stride on before the events, 
 
 And in to-day already walks to-morrow." 
 
 Schiller's Wallenstein. 
 
 A HALF-HOUR'S gentle canter, and our party drew up 
 once more at Mrs. Pemberton's. Giving their horses in 
 charge of the servants they entered and made ready for 
 dinner five o'clock being then as now, a common hour 
 with the wealthier classes of the citizens. Andre remained 
 at Pemberton's invitation. 
 
 The dinner was an abundant and substantial, but simple 
 affair. Two courses ; at the first a round of roast beef, 
 and the vegetables and stewed fruits of the season pota- 
 toes, sweet and white, turnips, stewed cranberries, apple 
 sauce and cole-slaw ; for the second course, dried-peach 
 pies and a rice-pudding, ending with nuts, and a cup of 
 coffee for those who desired it. For drink, there was 
 good water rather a scarce article in the world home- 
 brewed beer, and claret and Madeira wines. These last 
 were very sparingly partaken of for fifty years before, the 
 evils of intemperance had been strongly portrayed at pub- 
 lic meetings held throughout the province a prohibitory 
 law in relation to distilled liquors had been warmly urged 
 and the "Friends" had many a solemn testimony ut- 
 tered by their preachers against the danger of over-indul- 
 gence in intoxicating drinks.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 87 
 
 Mrs. Pemberton presided at the head of the table. She 
 was a rather large, and, for her years, quite a comely 
 woman, with something of the air of a queen about her, 
 notwithstanding the severe simplicity of her Quaker attire. 
 The smooth and unruffled serenity of her face told of feel- 
 ings habitually kept under control. It was doubtful that 
 she could be easily wounded by any assault of fate that did 
 not touch the weak point in her smooth-shining armor 
 her love for Arthur, her only remaining child. 
 
 Mrs. Pemberton, like a large proportion of the sect to 
 which she belonged, was intensely loyal in her feelings 
 so much so that when the British entered the city, she had 
 sent to Sir William Howe her carriage and horses for his 
 own use while he remained. This she could do conscien- 
 tiously ; but to contribute in aid of warlike measures, even 
 to benefit the cause she deemed just, she would not do, 
 under any pretence whatever. The royal commander 
 might take from her what he pleased for such purposes, 
 and she would submit but she would not aid voluntarily 
 in any way or manner in the shedding of blood. Her op- 
 position in fact to the Colonial cause was based upon this 
 very thing when the Colonies took ground that involved 
 a resort to violence and war, she no longer sympathized 
 with them. 
 
 Her residence was called by many the Flag House, as it 
 was the only one belonging to a citizen which displayed 
 the British flag. But this flag had been run up at first en- 
 tirely without Mrs. Pemberton' s knowledge. It was appa- 
 rently the work of old Fox. The late Mr. Pemberton had 
 been a large ship-owner, and in the attic of the house 
 Foxey had found a collection of flags, of various sizes. 
 One of these he had run up on a tall but rude flag-staff of 
 his own manufacture, when the British army entered the
 
 88 PEMBERTON j 
 
 city, greatly to the disgust of that portion of the citizens 
 who were Whigs. 
 
 Mrs. Pemberton was not, by any means, a bigoted 
 "Friend," but still she disliked this particular exhibition 
 of loyalty, as not being in accordance with what she 
 termed " Friends' testimonies." But, as it had been done, 
 and seemed to please General Howe very greatly, and as 
 her son represented to her that it really was a matter of 
 very little importance, the flag was allowed to remain. 
 
 And Fox was permitted to fly his flags at his pleasure, 
 substituting one for another, sometimes a small one, some- 
 times a large one, and sometimes the very largest he could 
 lay his hands on, according apparently to his own African 
 notions of what was suitable and proper. That he should 
 fly his largest flags upon what he deemed the greatest occa- 
 sions, seemed to be only in accordance with what might 
 naturally be expected. But to return to our company. 
 
 After the removal of the first course, which you may be 
 sure all parties did ample justice to though the noise of 
 the cannonade still continued at intervals, not however so 
 constant and heavy as at first Mrs. Pemberton was in- 
 formed by her son of the particulars of their day's ride, 
 including the adventure with the deserters. She was of 
 course greatly affected. "Poor, misguided men!" was 
 her comment upon hearing of the tragical fate of the de- 
 serters. " If the riflemen only could have captured them, 
 or driven them off, without killing them, how much better 
 it would have been." 
 
 While Arthur had been telling his story, Andre had 
 turned around to a little desk behind him, on which stood 
 writing materials, and seemed to be sketching something 
 with a pen. As Pemberton concluded, he turned back 
 again, smiling. 
 
 " Here we are, Mrs. Pemberton," cried he, gaylyhand-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 89 
 
 ing her a sheet of paper, on which he had made a rude but 
 highly artistic sketch. " Here is the rock. That is 
 Helen you would know her by her defiant expression 
 and attitude she has just blown the whistle. That is 
 poor me half scared to death. That is Pemberton, look- 
 ing as grave as a Quaker preacher in meeting. That's 
 Isabella, standing erect, like a queen. And there up on 
 the brow of the precipice, are the horrible deserters." 
 
 The sketch was handed around, and greatly commended 
 for its accuracy and spirit ; Helen, in the end, appropriat- 
 ing it as her own, without a word, and apparently in the 
 most unconscious manner. 
 
 "My dear children," said Mrs. Pemberton, "we 
 should thank the kind Father for bringing you assistance 
 at so critical a moment. Philip Morris was but the in- 
 strument in His holy hand." 
 
 "It seems to me though, it can easily be accounted for 
 in a natural way," said Arthur in a low voice to Andre, 
 who was sitting opposite to him. 
 
 But his mother caught the words. "Arthur, I do not 
 like to hear thee say that. History is full of such Provi- 
 dential interpositions especially the history of the early 
 Friends." 
 
 "In your own family, Friend Pemberton," said Isa- 
 bella, "you have frequently had such cases, have you 
 not?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed," replied Mrs. Pemberton, evidently em- 
 barked on a favorite subject; "hand down that tureen, 
 Arthur, from the sideboard." 
 
 Arthur did so. It was a silver tureen, and on it was 
 engraved the device of a cat bearing off a rabbit. The 
 others had frequently seen it, but it was new to Andre, 
 and the story connected with it was new to all but her 
 son.
 
 90 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 "When the first settlers came to Philadelphia," Mrs. 
 Pemberton resumed, "many of them made caves in the 
 high bank, on the river's edge, to live in, until they had 
 time to build more comfortable homes. An ancestor of 
 ours and of Philip Morris's, when the dinner hour came 
 one day, found she had nothing left in the house to eat, 
 except a little biscuit and cheese, and with no immediate 
 prospect of getting anything more. Then she gave way 
 to despondency, and began to wish she had remained 
 among the flesh-pots of the English Egypt. But suddenly 
 a voice within seemed to say : ' Didst thou not come for 
 liberty of conscience and hast thou not got it ? Neither 
 hast thou suffered greatly thus far.' Then she fell on her 
 knees, and prayed to be forgiven, and for a greater meas- 
 ure of faith." 
 
 "That was just like you would have done, my dear 
 Aunt Rachel," exclaimed Isabella. 
 
 "Well," continued Mrs. Pemberton, not displeased 
 with the compliment from her favorite of the two girls, 
 "when she rose from her knees, and was going to seek 
 for other food, her cat darted into the cave with a fine 
 large rabbit which it had caught. And thus our Heavenly 
 Father answered her humble petition, and gave her a 
 lesson which she never forgot. For when, in after days, 
 they became prosperous and wealthy, she had this tureen 
 made, and engraved as you see it, in order that none of 
 her descendants might forget the rock of their strength, to 
 the latest generation. 
 
 " And many other such incidents have occurred in the 
 history of our family," continued Mrs. Pemberton, " both 
 here and in the old world, which I could mention, if it 
 were necessary." 
 
 "Mother," said Pemberton slyly, " how do you ex- 
 plain the flash of lightning last June, which melted the
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 91 
 
 crown on Christ Church steeple ? Do you think that it 
 meant God's displeasure with the course of the mother 
 country toward these colonies ? ' ' 
 
 "I think it may have been intended as a warning to 
 the king," replied she, "that unless he reigned with 
 greater justice, his kingdom in this part of the world 
 would be taken from him. 
 
 "Pretty well answered, I think, Master Arthur," said 
 Isabella. 
 
 "And then again," continued Mrs. Pemberton, "we 
 all know what happened at Birmingham meeting-house. 
 Years before the bloody conflict at Brandywine yes, 
 years before the beginning of the war, one of our most 
 gifted ministers, enlightened by the Word, predicted not 
 only the coming on of the contest, but how that very 
 place would be the scene of frightful carnage, how the 
 blood would be spattered red on the horses' bridles and 
 housings, and that very house itself be filled with the 
 wounded and the slain ! " 
 
 " He did? " said Helen, her face glowing with her in- 
 terest in the subject. 
 
 "Yes, I believe that is so," responded Arthur. "But 
 I also remember how another very eloquent minister, the 
 Rev. Morgan Edwards " 
 
 " He is not a Friend," interrupted his mother; " he is 
 a hireling minister. It is a different case entirely." 
 
 " But, mother, let me go on," said Arthur, laughing. " I 
 admit that he is not a Friend but he was always consid- 
 ered a very worthy, conscientious and sincere man. The 
 Rev. Morgan Edwards was persuaded that he had received 
 a warning from above a kind of inward monition, mo- 
 ther that he was about to die, and on a certain day, at 
 a certain hour. He felt so sure of it that he announced 
 it from his pulpit. It made a great sensation, of course.
 
 92 PEMBERTON; 
 
 When the fateful day came his house was crowded. He 
 breathed slowly. Everybody was expectant. You could 
 hear the big clock tick. The minutes wore on. He 
 breathed slower and slower. Every moment, he thought, 
 would be his last. But he could not die ! And, greatly 
 to his own vexation and disappointment, and the vexa- 
 tion and disappointment of his numerous friends and ad- 
 mirers, the dreaded minutes passed on ; the hour passed 
 over; the day passed over and here twenty years are 
 gone, and the reverend gentleman is still alive and 
 frisky." 
 
 "If I had been he, I would have taken laudanum," 
 said Helen, in a mortified tone. 
 
 " Of course it killed him, in one sense, if not in an- 
 other," continued Pemberton. "His congregation lost 
 all faith in his spiritual discernment ; and he left the city 
 in disgust. Now, that he was earnest and sincere, is 
 proven by the whole course of the affair. What have you 
 to say about these matters, Andre ? you have not spoken a 
 word for the last half hour. Are you a believer or a dis- 
 believer?" 
 
 " Captain Andr6 is not a disbeliever, I will warrant." 
 said Helen. " Aunt Rachel, you must take Arthur to 
 meeting with you more regularly. He is getting quite 
 Frenchified." 
 
 Andr6 had been sitting very quietly, as Pemberton had 
 said, but was evidently an attentive listener to the conversa- 
 tion. Now he took a sip of wine, and said in a low and 
 musing tone : 
 
 " I know not what to say. There is so much evidence 
 on both sides. But I will also tell a story an anecdote 
 of what happened to young Percy, the very day he was 
 killed at Brandywine. I had it from his servant, after the 
 battle.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 93 
 
 '"You may have heard what a splendid fellow Percy 
 was," continued Andre ; " so kind, so noble, so generous ! 
 I knew him well and many a pleasant talk we had to- 
 gether on our way from the head of Elk. He was a vol- 
 unteer, you know ; and rode with whom it pleased him. 
 He wore a handsome uniform, and looked and rode as a 
 descendant of Harry Hotspur should. He was in Corn- 
 wallis's division, and that long, well-planned march of the 
 general's brought them to the flank of Washington's army 
 about two in the afternoon. They absolutely stopped and 
 took a comfortable dinner about two miles from the Ameri- 
 cans ; only the rise of a hill concealing the two armies from 
 each other's view." 
 
 "I should think that was not very wise nor prudent," 
 said Isabella. 
 
 " Perhaps not but it is hard fighting on an empty 
 stomach and the result justified it," replied Andre. 
 
 "At four o'clock," continued he, sadly, "the British 
 column ascended the intervening hill, and came in sight 
 of the American position, their troops all in line, and 
 awaiting the onset." 
 
 "Oh, it is horrible!" exclaimed Mrs. Pemberton 
 " brothers thirsting for brothers' blood. Where was your 
 religion where your common humanity?" 
 
 "As Percy came to the brow of the hill, he suddenly 
 reined in his steed, and gazed with a curious, questioning 
 eye over the scene before him. There was a gentle hill 
 and dale, interspersed with dark patches of wood, green 
 pastures and low, gray farm-houses ; and, just seen in a 
 little opening on the right, the glittering waters of the 
 Brandywine, flowing peacefully and quietly in the glorious 
 sunshine. I stood afterward in the very same spot, Miss 
 Helen." 
 
 "Well?" said Helen, breathlessly.
 
 94 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " Calling his servant to his side, Percy took his gold 
 watch from his pocket, and gave it to him. ' Take this, 
 David,' said he, ' and give it to my sister in far Northum- 
 berland. I have seen this hill and stream and landscape 
 before ; in a dream, in England. Here I shall die ! 
 And ' taking his purse from his pocket ' take this for 
 yourself.' That was all he said every word. Then he 
 rode on. In the midst of the fight, in that fierce contest 
 for the possession of the graveyard and Birmingham meet- 
 ing-house, Percy fell. That is all," said Andre, passing 
 his hand over his forehead. 
 
 " May he sleep in peace amid the quiet hills of Brandy- 
 wine !" said Pemberton, solemnly. 
 
 ''And God comfort his sister, in far Northumberland, 
 when the sad news comes," said Isabella. 
 
 " It reminds me of my own dream one that I have 
 dreamed twice, once in England, and again nearly two 
 years ago in Lancaster, ' ' resumed Andre, with a touch of 
 sadness in his tones, and a dreamy look in his dark eyes. 
 " It was a very vivid dream, and I awakened on both occa- 
 sions feeling intensely sorrowful. And yet there was 
 nothing very sorrowful in it. I thought I was riding alone, 
 along a country road. At length I came to a gentle de- 
 clivity, at the foot of which seemed to flow a little stream. 
 The landscape was beautiful and quite peculiar, and I 
 should know it at once if I ever really saw such a scene. 
 On one side of the road, a little distance from it, towered 
 a majestic tree. At the north, they call them Whitewood ; 
 you call them Tulip Poplars. But this was immense ; its 
 trunk I should think nearly thirty feet around ; and its 
 boughs the size of ordinary trees. But the great peculi- 
 arity of the tree was its gnarled and fantastic branches, 
 which twisted down in places almost to the earth, and then 
 rose again. While I was gazing at it, a soldier in British
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 95 
 
 uniform suddenly stepped out from the side of the road, 
 presented his musket at my breast, and cried ' Halt !' At 
 the sound, on both occasions, I awoke. If I ever see that 
 spot, that tree, and hear that voice, I shall feel as Percy 
 felt at Brandywine." 
 
 Andre leaned his head upon his hand. He evidently 
 had been deeply impressed by the prophetic vision, as he 
 deemed it. Helen rose from the table to conceal her sym- 
 pathetic agitation. 
 
 "Come now, Andr6," cried Pemberton in a cheery 
 voice, " you are giving us all the dismals. That dream is 
 susceptible of two explanations. Your tree was the great 
 tree of Life, Ygdrasil, which you had probably been read- 
 ing about in some old Norse fable ; and the soldier was 
 Death, who is certain to start out even from under the very 
 giant and twisted branches of the tree of life, and cry 
 ' Halt ' to all of us and this is the most reasonable expla- 
 nation, and does credit to your involuntary powers of 
 fancy and invention, making me think you even more of 
 a poet and artist than I thought you before. Or, if you 
 will have the dream more literally fulfilled here is our ad- 
 venture of to-day, with big trees enough, and soldiers 
 wearing British uniforms too, and crying ' halt ' into the 
 bargain. Your dream came to-day as near an accurate 
 fulfilment as dreams are apt to come, I fancy." 
 
 Helen's face brightened. "Yes, Mr. Andr6, Mr. Pem- 
 berton has explained all in the most satisfactory manner. 
 Why, Arthur, you are a second Daniel ; and here is a kiss 
 for your reward" tossing him one of those sweet little 
 compositions, so appropriately named, out of the cake- 
 basket. 
 
 "I shall try to think so, at least," said Andre, rousing 
 himself to gayety, as with an effort, " for such forebodings 
 are not inspiriting to a soldier. And, apropos to all this,
 
 96 PEMBERTON; 
 
 would you not, ladies, like to visit the famous witch, con- 
 jurer, sorceress, astrologess, and fortune-teller, Madame 
 Dumont, who has been making so much talk lately ? 
 Tarleton has been there, and even he, who believes in 
 nothing he cannot see and hear, is puzzled. Miss Ship- 
 pen says she predicts the most curious career for her. 
 Miss Franks says she is the bad one. While Miss Vining 
 keeps a silence which is more significant than words. Let 
 us all go." 
 
 "Suppose we do," said Pemberton. 
 
 "I do not approve of such tampering with sacred things, 
 John," said Mrs. Pemberton. ''If the spirit wants to 
 speak, it will speak ; but I think it wicked, and even dan- 
 gerous, to have anything to do with witches and those who 
 have familiar spirits. 
 
 "But, Aunt Rachel, we should not have the least faith 
 in her; and it would be such rare fun," remonstrated 
 Helen. 
 
 "Well, we can decide about it another time," said 
 Andre, who did not wish needlessly to controvert Mrs. 
 Pemberton's strong religious convictions upon the subject. 
 " I still hear the cannon booming at intervals, and think 
 I had better go up to headquarters to learn what has been 
 going on to-day." 
 
 " I will go along," said Pemberton. " I also feel anx- 
 ious to hear ; and even the ladies, doubtless, would like to 
 know that all their friends are safe, before retiring. ' ' 
 
 The gentlemen left. But in half an hour Pemberton 
 returned, with a face in which joy and grief blended. He 
 brought back word that the Hessians, under Count Donop, 
 had been repulsed in their attack on Fort Mercer, with 
 great slaughter. The British ships, also, had been able to 
 make no impression on Fort Mifflin, while two of the ves- 
 sels, the Merlin and Augusta, were aground, and might
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 97 
 
 have to be abandoned. None of their immediate friendSj 
 on either side, were injured. 
 
 Pemberton's face glowed as he told this ; while Isabella's 
 eyes shone triumphantly in sympathy. Helen threw her- 
 self on a sofa and shed tears, while Mrs. Pemberton gave 
 a deep sigh. Nothing was said, however, on the one side 
 of exultation, on the other of anger or regret they all 
 loved and respected each other too much for that. 
 
 "I also was deeply pained to learn," continued Pem- 
 berton, "that Count Donop, who commanded the expe- 
 dition, now lies mortally wounded, and a prisoner. One 
 of his officers had just brought the news to General Howe. 
 He had obtained permission to visit the count, after the 
 contest. The latter lay dying, in a neighboring farm- 
 house. He seemed to feel ashamed and mortified at this 
 sad close of a brilliant life. He said, bitterly, to the 
 officer, " And here ends, early and ingloriously, my proud 
 and ambitious career. I have moved in half the courts of 
 Europe, and am now dying here ignobly, in the house of 
 an obscure Quaker." 
 
 Weary with their ride and the exciting events of the 
 day, the ladies retired early to rest thankful that they 
 had no visitors. Whenever they awakened through the 
 night they could still hear at intervals the sad booming of 
 the cannon. And the next morning the whole city was 
 startled by a tremendous explosion. A red-hot shot from 
 the fort had set the Augusta, a large 64-gun ship, on fire, 
 and she had blown up 1
 
 PEMBERTON J 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE FORTUNE TELLER. 
 
 We hear the slow and solemn steps of Doom 
 Approaching through the corridors of Time. 
 They echo through our dreams. 
 
 THE young people persevered in their projected visit to 
 Madame Dumont, notwithstanding Mrs. Pemberton's sen- 
 sible objection. For Helen and Andre, anything of the 
 kind had a peculiar fascination ; while Pemberton regarded 
 divination as a curious study, and worthy of sufficient in- 
 vestigation to ascertain whether there was even a single 
 spark of light-giving fire among such thick volumes of 
 smoke. Isabella was very much of Mrs. Pemberton's 
 opinion; but, if the others went, she would go also. 
 
 They went by appointment. And Pemberton had 
 taken great care that the alleged sorceress should not have 
 the slightest intimation as to who would constitute the 
 party. He had even loaned Andre one of his own coats 
 in order that it might not be known that he was a soldier. 
 
 The night was dark and gusty when they set forth, with 
 some indications in the west of an approaching storm. 
 But as all the arrangements had been made, and as the 
 ladies had arrayed themselves in their oldest and com- 
 monest dresses, in order to conceal even their social rank, 
 they cared comparatively little for a drenching. 
 
 Philadelphia, at that time, though the largest and weal- 
 thiest city in the colonies, contained only about thirty 
 thousand inhabitants. It was built up with tolerable com- 
 pactness along the Delaware, from South to Callowhill 
 Street, and as far west as Fourth Street ; beyond Fourth 
 the houses were few and scattered. The State House and 
 Walnut Street jail were on the outskirts. The streets were
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 99 
 
 generally unpaved, and to a great degree unlighted lan- 
 terns being carried at night by the citizens when neces- 
 sary. Dock creek ran up into and through the heart of 
 the city, requiring numerous bridges. At one time there 
 were as many as a dozen of them. It was a totally dif- 
 ferent place from the well-paved, well-lighted, immense 
 city of to-day. 
 
 Madame Dumont had taken a house out Walnut Street, 
 several squares beyond the inclosure of the State House. 
 Whether she had chosen it purposely or not, it was a house 
 of evil repute, inasmuch as it had the reputation of being 
 haunted. It had been the residence of a man whose wife 
 had been murdered by whom, no one knew. He said, 
 by robbers. He was himself suspected, but the case never 
 came to trial, for want of proof. The fortune-teller ob- 
 tained it cheaply, for no one else would live in it. Pro- 
 bably its reputation was also an inducement to her. It 
 was calculated to surround her with an atmosphere of the 
 supernatural. 
 
 It was after eight o'clock when our party set out. The 
 evening, as we have said, was dark and gusty ; and they 
 made their way over the uneven side-paths, up Chestnut 
 Street, over the Dock creek bridge, and then along Fourth 
 to Walnut. Turning up Walnut, they entered into almost 
 the open country. Passing along the high stone wall of 
 the State House yard then full of cedar bushes, its 
 stately elms and other noble trees as yet unplanted : 
 they came opposite the Walnut Street Prison. Occasional 
 lights were flickering through its grated windows; but, 
 in the main, its huge front was dark and stern and cheer- 
 less. 
 
 "That is Cunningham's little hell ! " exclaimed Pem- 
 berton, bitterly, turning his head back toward Andre, who 
 followed with Helen. "Sir William Howe looks and
 
 ioo PEMBERTON; 
 
 talks like a generous, genial man, but how such a man can 
 allow a foul den like that, and tolerate such a monster as 
 Cunningham, is a mystery to me." 
 
 "Between you and me, Pemberton, it is a mystery to 
 me also," replied Andre. " If I had the power, or if Gen- 
 eral Grey, stern as he is, had it, Cunningham would not 
 retain his place an hour. He knows it too he would 
 have cursed me only yesterday, to my face, had he dared." 
 
 "Did you offend him?" queried Helen. 
 
 "Yes, for common humanity always offends him. I 
 was passing the prison, when who should come along but 
 Captain Cunningham, with a party of prisoners. One of 
 them, I declare, Pemberton, was not more than fifteen a 
 mere boy ! He was crying bitterly. He had accompanied 
 the detachment in a boyish love of sport and excitement 
 and here he was. ' ' 
 
 " Of course you interfered ? " said Isabella. " I know 
 you did it." 
 
 "It was mere common humanity," replied Andre. 
 "The boy told me of his father and his poor mother at 
 home, who did not know where he was ; and I told him 
 to be of good cheer, I would see what I could do for him. 
 The little fellow was comforted, and hushed his crying 
 while Cunningham looked on, black as night. I've no 
 doubt," continued Andre, laughing, "the Provost would 
 have helped to hang me at that moment, with the greatest 
 satisfaction." 
 
 " Did you get the boy released ? " inquired Helen. 
 
 "Of course at once. General Howe said he would 
 give Cunningham a talking to for such doings but I am 
 afraid that that will be the end of it. Sir William has 
 but one fault, as a soldier and a man, he loves his ease 
 rather too much." 
 
 Helen clasped closer the arm she held. Perhaps it was
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. IOI 
 
 owing to the darkness of the night, and the increasing 
 roughness of the way ; but Andre thought not. 
 
 "Take care at this gulley go slowly," cried Pember- 
 ton. "It runs down through the Potter's Field.* You 
 cannot see the newly-turned earth by this light, and the 
 long line of pits. Hundreds of American prisoners are 
 being carried weekly out of the hospitals, and out of 
 that hideous jail, and crowded like dead dogs into those 
 holes." 
 
 "See! what is that?" whispered Isabella, as a tall, 
 ghostly-looking figure in white rose up from among the 
 graves. 
 
 They all were startled. It was evidently coming toward 
 them. Then Pemberton laughed. " It is only crazy 
 Leah," said he. "She has a habit of sleeping there at 
 times she says, to keep off the doctors. ' ' 
 
 " It would drive me crazy to meet her here alone, on 
 such a night as this," said Helen. "I should think it 
 was the ghost of that Miss Carpenter who committed sui- 
 cide." 
 
 "You should be above that," replied Pemberton. "I 
 like the spirit shown by her relatives, the Carpenters and 
 the Storys. When they found she could not, poor unfor- 
 tunate ! be buried in consecrated earth, they walled in 
 that little inclosure for a family ground and there she, 
 and many others of her family, lie buried. ' ' 
 
 " That was noble ! " exclaimed Andre. " I have often 
 wondered what that little walled inclosure in the centre 
 of the field meant. There is something grand about 
 that." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose there is," said Helen; "but what with 
 all this talk about graves and suicide, and this dismal 
 
 * Now Washington Square.
 
 IO2 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 night, I am half-frightened already. How much further 
 is it, Arthur?" 
 
 " We are nearly there. Now, not a word as to who we 
 are, or that will give her the slightest clue in any direc- 
 tion." 
 
 Pushing back a gate, Pemberton led the way up to 
 the house. He knocked at the door. There was no re- 
 sponse. He knocked again. 
 
 "Why don't she come?" said Helen, in a whisper. 
 " This is an awfully ghostly place. And hear how the 
 wind whistles." 
 
 A step, at last, was heard inside, approaching the door. 
 A light gleamed, and the door opened. A tall negress 
 received them, and led the way into a medium-sized 
 room, hung with alternate breadths of some blue and 
 crimson stuff, and from the ceiling of which a large silver 
 lamp depended. Under the lamp, which seemed fed with 
 some kind of aromatic oil, judging from the heavy per- 
 fume, as of mock-orange, which pervaded the apartment, 
 stood a round table covered with a crimson cloth. On 
 the table were several richly-bound volumes, and what 
 seemed a brass triangle, whose flat sides were marked with 
 various cabalistic figures. At the end of the room stood 
 what appeared to be an altar, with three unlighted wax 
 candles upon it. 
 
 After requesting them, more by a motion than by words, 
 to seat themselves on a richly-draped settee or lounge, the 
 negress left them. 
 
 "Well," said Pemberton, in a low but amused voice, 
 " this is the thing exactly. This is just what I wanted to 
 see a regular witch's den of these modern days. Let me 
 see what these books are," continued he, stepping to the 
 table. " Oh, yes, the genuine articles ' Hidon's Temple 
 of Wisdom,' ' Scot's Discovery of Witchraft,' and ' Cor-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. IOJ 
 
 nelius Agrippa on Necromancy,' of course. Now for the 
 witch herself. I hope " 
 
 His remarks were cut short by a most unearthly shriek, 
 which caused the ladies, and even Andre, to start from 
 their seats in horror, followed, as it was, by the terrible 
 cry of 
 
 " Help ! help ! murder ! mur der ! Oh ! oh !" 
 
 Isabella grew pale, Helen almost shrieked herself, and 
 Andre laid his hand where he was accustomed to find the 
 hilt of his sword. Hearing a slight rustle, Pemberton 
 turned his eyes toward one of the windows from near which 
 the cry had seemed to come, and then walking to it, 
 drew aside the heavy fold of a curtain. 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, ladies; it is only a cockatoo," 
 said he, smiling. 
 
 They gathered around him, while the cockatoo, having 
 displayed his powers to his satisfaction, gave vent to his 
 delight by a low chuckle. It was a beautiful bird large, 
 with dove-colored feathers and white crest but singular 
 withal, as its breast and shoulders were a bright crimson, 
 as if stained by a gush of blood. 
 
 Gazing at the bird, they had for the moment forgotten the 
 object of their visit, when a rich, deep voice caused them 
 to turn, and Madame Dumont evidently stood before 
 them. 
 
 Tall and dignified, apparently of about fifty years of 
 age, and judging from her brunette complexion a French 
 or Spanish Creole, with dark, burning eyes a richly-col- 
 ored shawl drawn around her shoulders, and a handker- 
 chief, equally richly colored, worn as a turban upon her 
 head Madame Dumont evidently was no vulgar fortune- 
 teller, but one of the mistresses of her solemn and imposing 
 art. 
 
 "Welcome, fair flowers of Scotia! welcome to my
 
 104 PEMBERTON; 
 
 humble dwelling. Welcome, true lover of woman ; wel- 
 come, faithful son of a woman, to the home of the unloved 
 and the desolate. What would you of the daughter of the 
 Tropics?" 
 
 "We would," replied Isabella, with a little of a tremor, 
 "learn of our Future. We would read the pages of des- 
 tiny." 
 
 " And why read the Future ? Why not dwell contented 
 in the happy Present ?' ' 
 
 " How dost thou know that it is the happy present?" 
 interposed Helen. 
 
 "When one sees the glory of youth in the eyes, the 
 beauty of youth on the cheeks, it requires no deep divina- 
 tion to read the Present. But thou wouldst know of the 
 Future. Give me thy hand. ' ' 
 
 Helen stretched forth her hand. The sorceress gazed 
 into the soft palm, holding it to reflect the light. 
 
 " All the lines are fortunate, save one," said she quietly. 
 " Canst thou not be happy with one thing denied?" 
 
 " I should think," replied Pemberton, smiling, " that it 
 would depend very much upon what that one thing was. ' ' 
 
 " What is to be denied me?" said Helen quickly. 
 
 "All the lines are fortunate and straight and full save 
 one only the line of love, though straight and full, is 
 suddenly broken." 
 
 "Only the line of love!" repeated Helen. "Then I 
 suppose my fate will be to lead apes hereafter, instead of 
 here." 
 
 "This palmistry this hand-divination, is very imper- 
 fect, lady," replied the fortune-teller. "It is the lowest 
 branch of my art. And even that says not thou shalt live 
 a maiden. I have not said so." 
 
 Andre made a step forward. "Why is it so often the
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 105 
 
 case, good mother, that the oracles of Fate will bear a 
 double interpretation?" 
 
 "The oracles of Fate! Would you then really hear 
 them?" exclaimed the woman, in a solemn, somewhat sad 
 voice. " Hark ! do you hear the wind rushing through 
 the branches? It portends the tempest. And that low 
 roaring of the thunder it foretells that the storm is roll- 
 ing nearer and nearer. I feel in my spirit the rushing of 
 the wind. I hear the low roaring of the thunder. The 
 storm will burst full soon." 
 
 " Yes," said Isabella to Pemberton, anxiously, " a storm 
 is indeed coming up. Had we not better return home at 
 once?" 
 
 " It would be on us before we had gone a square. Ha ! 
 there it is ' ' as a sharp peal rang through the air, and 
 seemed to shake the building, while they heard outside 
 the rushing of the rain. " It may all be over in an hour 
 or so it is the way with our thunder storms." 
 
 " Of course we will stay," said Helen. " And now that 
 matter is settled, let us learn something of those spiritual 
 tempests which we have been told of. Can you not be a 
 little more precise in your readings of the dark page of the 
 Future? If the reading of the hand be imperfect, let us 
 witness some of the higher evidences of your power. ' ' 
 
 The fortune-teller appeared to hesitate her manner 
 seemed for the moment irresolute. 
 
 "If money be an object with you " interposed Ar- 
 thur. 
 
 "Thy money perish with thee ! " cried the fortune- 
 teller, her eyes and face glowing. "Know, young man, 
 that I, like the called and anointed of thy father's faith, 
 neither preach for hire, nor divine for money. All my 
 offerings are free-will offerings and I never even look at 
 what each man gives."
 
 106 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " Pardon me, good mother ! I erred through igno- 
 rance. I both understand and honor the feeling you 
 manifest." 
 
 "I hesitated only," said the woman, "because I fear 
 my own art. When the curtain is raised, is it wonderful 
 that I also should sometimes start and shudder ? Can I 
 see a pit in your onward path, all black and yawning be- 
 fore you and you, young hopefuls, hastening gayly and 
 cheerfully on and not myself suffer ? and suffer more, be- 
 cause that I have faith ! " 
 
 "But," interrupted Andre, "is it not better that in 
 such a case the reckless gayety should yield a little to 
 more serious and befitting thoughts ? Would not the way- 
 farer be thus better prepared for the pit ? " 
 
 "It maybe so and that comforts me," replied the 
 fortune-teller. 
 
 "And moreover," continued Andre, "forewarned, are 
 we not somewhat forearmed ? Is the future thou seest, 
 inevitable?" 
 
 " It is inevitable so far as the natural order of things 
 and events is concerned. Only he who rules this world, 
 be he the Great Supreme, or some wise archangel or 
 angel under him, can interpose to save the menaced 
 one." 
 
 " Does he ever interpose?" questioned Andre, earnestly. 
 "Is his workmanship so poor, as ever to need the helping 
 hand of alteration or correction ? ' ' 
 
 " In making man a free agent," replied the sibyl, " he 
 has himself necessarily made his workmanship imperfect. 
 Allow for the workings of a free agent, and not even in- 
 finite intelligence can exactly perceive and provide for the 
 infinite future. And thus what I term, in one sense, the 
 inevitable, may never come to pass. But let no one cal- 
 culate upon this for in ninety and nine cases in the hun-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 107 
 
 dred, the inevitable, as I see it, will come to pass. I 
 never knew but of one case in which it did not. 
 
 "But we waste time," she continued. "You at least," 
 addressing Andre, "may confidently hope for a happy 
 future. You have the eye and voice which captivate alike 
 men and women. You have in that the key to all success. 
 Give me your hand." 
 
 There were two seats drawn into the middle of the 
 room, near the table. To one of these the sibyl led 
 Andre, while she herself took the other. She sat for 
 several minutes in perfect silence then she spoke : 
 
 " Prince of the Powers of the Air ! thou that seest and 
 knowest from thy exalted height the ways of men make 
 my inward mind pure, my inward sight clear, that I may 
 see and understand the destiny of this man now before 
 me!" 
 
 She rose and lighted with a taper the three candles on 
 the altar, and then returned to her seat. 
 
 Taking the right hand of Andre in her own, and sitting 
 in perfect silence, soon her head fell forward, her eyes 
 partly closed, and she seemed to sink into a kind of 
 trance. A low sweet strain of music, the source of which 
 it was impossible to fix, floated through the room. Then, 
 after a long, deep breath, she spoke in a rapid but clear 
 tone, audible to all, though scarcely louder than a 
 whisper : 
 
 * I see a great crowd. There is a high hill. I see you 
 yes, it is certainly you. You are in a military uniform. 
 It is red it is a British uniform. The crowd is very sor- 
 rowful some are weeping. There are generals and other 
 officers. You are standing on a wagon on a coffin. It 
 is a scaffold. A rope is around your neck. Oh oh 
 oh!" 
 
 With a wild wail the sibyl sprang to her feet dashing
 
 jo8 PEMBERTON; 
 
 her hands over her brow and eyes, as if to wipe away the 
 memory of a fearful dream. 
 
 The young ladies also had sprung to their feet, greatly 
 excited Helen fairly trembling with the excitement and 
 terror. 
 
 Andrews face was pale, but he said, calmly : 
 
 " Good mother, you have given the ladies a great 
 fright.' 
 
 "It is terrible, terrible !" exclaimed Helen. "How 
 could you conjure up such a scene ? ' ' 
 
 "Pardon, sweet lady! " said the sybil. "When I go 
 into these trances, I know not what I shall say. But those 
 that are fearful of heart, should never seek to explore the 
 future." 
 
 "I am not fearful! I am startled and excited not 
 fearful ! I am not afraid to hear or see any fate, true or 
 false, that you may call before me," replied Helen, the 
 blue eyes of her father flashing above the cheeks into which 
 the blood had returned in a torrent. "Sit down again, 
 John, and let us have it out." 
 
 "Yes," added Isabella proudly, "we are a soldier's 
 daughters, and not such cowards as to be frightened by 
 mere words." 
 
 "Well," said Pemberton, "you are the ones to decide, 
 ladies. I suppose we gentlemen can endure anything that 
 you can." 
 
 Andre smiled, and again took his seat. 
 
 "See if you cannot give me something more pleasant 
 than that ; or, if you cannot, give me that over again, that 
 I may not forget it." 
 
 " The spirit never repeats itself and you will never for- 
 get it !" said the sibyl solemnly, taking her seat and his 
 hand anew. 
 
 Again the silence then the low, sweet aeolian tones of
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 1 09 
 
 music as before, but in a wilder, more triumphant strain. 
 
 " I see a glorious building. It is in England. Yes, it 
 is Westminster Abbey. A new monument has been 
 erected. Men the titled and high-born and beautiful 
 women, are gazing upon it. Stay I can read the name. 
 ' Sacred to the memory of John Andre. ' 
 
 " That is all it passes from before me. Ask me no 
 more of thy destiny. ' ' 
 
 " It is enough ! ' ' proudly exclaimed Andre, rising. "A 
 tomb in Westminster Abbey, amid the noblest and best of 
 England, might well content the ambition of a prouder 
 man than I am. Good mother, thy second prediction, 
 though it seems to give the lie to the first, is quite sufficient 
 for me. No man that lived the life of a felon, no man 
 that dies the death of a felon, shall ever lie in the Abbey 
 of Westminster." 
 
 The sibyl smiled. " I am well pleased that it is so. 
 But it grows late and I begin to feel exhausted. Will 
 not this serve for one evening?" 
 
 "You have done so well on the second trial for our 
 friend, can you not do as well by me?" said Helen. 
 "This sending one home to bed, to dream of hopeless 
 love, is hardly the right thing, mother. ' ' 
 
 "You call me ' mother' would to God that you had a 
 mother!" said the sibyl fondly but sadly. "But I have 
 not predicted the hardest fate better be unhappy in thy 
 love, than unloved and unloving." 
 
 Helen took her seat in the chair of divination, and in 
 the wilful manner which became her so well, held out her 
 hand. The sibyl shook her head sadly, but took her 
 usual seat, kissing the beautiful throbbing hand as she laid 
 it in her own. 
 
 Then ensued the deep silence, followed by a very faint,
 
 no PEMBERTON; 
 
 yet sad strain of music. A shudder ran through the frame 
 of the sibyl. She spoke. 
 
 " I see a maiden. She wanders along the shore. It is 
 a dark night. I see high cliffs. She tosses her hands 
 wildly. She" 
 
 " No," exclaimed the sibyl, breaking through her trance 
 with a strong effort " I will not ! I can not ! I am 
 weak and faint. I am not certain of my power. The 
 lower spirits may delude me. Lucifer is cunning. The 
 book is closed and sealed. Live thou in the happy 
 Present." 
 
 "But I musfknowl" exclaimed Helen, imperiously. 
 " I am not a child I am a woman ! What a man fears 
 not to do or to hear, I fear not to do or to hear. 
 
 "Then, not to-night," replied the sibyl earnestly. 
 " Can you not imagine the strain this divination must be 
 upon my spirit ? I am exhausted." 
 
 " Help ! help ! murder, mur " again began the cock- 
 atoo ; but ceased at a hasty gesture from his mistress. 
 "Cease, Goblin!" cried she. 
 
 "It is a horrid bird!" exclaimed Helen. "How can 
 you bear to have it about the house ?' ' 
 
 " He belonged to the lady who once lived here and 
 died here," replied the sibyl, her voice sinking "yes, in 
 this very room ! They say that Goblin was once a great 
 talker but ever since that time, he utters but this one 
 cry ; caught perhaps from his terrified mistress in her hour 
 of agony, and driving out from his memory every other. 
 They also say his plumage was changed at the same time, 
 and that this crimson stain like blood, was never seen on 
 his breast before the murder. This, however, may be a 
 mere unfounded superstition. But you have heard your- 
 selves his only cry." 
 
 "Poor, poor bird!" said Helen in a sympathizing voice.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. HI 
 
 " Ladies," said Pemberton, " do you know that it grows 
 late?" 
 
 "I am ready to depart," replied Isabella. 
 
 " And I suppose I must be," said Helen "though I 
 never like to hear a tale half-told." 
 
 "You are a little unreasonable, sometimes, ma belle 
 Helene" rejoined Isabella, as she threw Helen's shawl over 
 her shoulders. " Let us make our adieus and depart." 
 
 But the sibyl had disappeared, probably through some 
 concealed passage, as suddenly as she had entered and 
 the negress was at the door of the room, waiting to show 
 them out. The young men exchanged a few words, and 
 then each deposited a gold piece upon the table. 
 
 As they left the house, the sky was covered with broken 
 masses of cloud ; but the storm had passed over, the full 
 moon had risen, and all nature slept calmly in its silvery 
 light. 
 
 Isabella drew a deep breath. " That is the first and 
 last time you ever catch me at a fortune-teller's," ex- 
 claimed she. " How peaceful and heavenly this moon- 
 light is, after that awesome room." 
 
 "Bella, I do believe you are a coward," replied Helen. 
 
 " Coward or not, Helen, I am content for one to take 
 things as they come, not seeking to penetrate the future. 
 I think it well to have a pleasant time as I go along, even 
 if I am to be hung, or sent wandering like a maniac along 
 the seashore, some twenty or fifty years hence." 
 
 "I think you are more than half right," said Pember- 
 ton. "But that woman impressed me greatly. She is 
 evidently a superior person, and deeply and enthusiasti- 
 cally sincere. Of course that proves nothing for the truth 
 of her predictions." 
 
 "I should think it did," said Helen. 
 
 " Not at all, Helen. Mr. Edwards was just as sincere
 
 112 PEMBERTON J 
 
 in predicting his own death, as Madame Dumont is in her 
 predictions. He fully expected to die. But he did 
 not." 
 
 "And yet sometimes these predictions come true," 
 said Isabella. " I have heard of several cases and doubt- 
 less your mother could tell us of more." 
 
 "Doubtless mother could," replied Pemberton, laugh- 
 ing. " She has not all that Welsh blood in her veins for 
 nothing." 
 
 "I think it would be a good thing for you, Arthur," 
 said Helen, " if you had a little more of that Welsh blood 
 in yours." 
 
 " I know you do, Helen ; but I am very well satisfied 
 with my share. ' ' 
 
 " Of course. I never saw a man who was not almost 
 absolutely perfect in his own estimation." Andre pressed 
 the hand on his arm, and smiled. "I admit there are a 
 few brilliant exceptions," she added, 
 
 " I suppose those are the cases in which you consider 
 that the gentlemen are almost absolutely perfect," replied 
 Pemberton, gayly. "But apropos of fortune-telling, I 
 will tell you an anecdote which my mother never told me, 
 but my father did. A friend of his, a military gentleman, 
 like Andre here, had been told by a gypsy in whose pre- 
 dictions he had great faith, that he need never fear bullet 
 nor ball, but to beware of cold steel. Of course in battle 
 he never felt the least fear of anything that gunpowder 
 could do, but he disliked mightily to hear the order to 
 charge bayonets." 
 
 "Oh, I know the rest; he died safely and soundly in 
 his bed," interrupted Helen saucily. 
 
 " Not so fast, ma belle Helene. He did die in his bed, 
 but my father always contended that he died of cold steel 
 for the doctors, Sangrado like, absolutely bled him, and
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 1 13 
 
 bled him, till it was impossible for him to recover. Na- 
 ture gave up the contest in despair, and he died. So you 
 see you must always allow a wide margin in the interpre- 
 tation of these predictions. As your favorite Shakspeare 
 says, Andre, they often 'palter with us in a double 
 sense.' " 
 
 Andre had been very quiet, and continued so all the 
 way home. Was he thinking of that terrible scene which 
 the sibyl had conjured up or of that far different one in 
 Westminster Abbey? Whichever it was that occupied 
 his thoughts or whether his mind was brooding over far 
 different themes he gave no clue to judge by words. 
 Declining Pemberton's formal invitation to enter, when 
 they arrived at Mrs. Pemberton's, and only lingering a 
 moment on the step to exchange a few loving words with 
 his betrothed, he took his way to his own lodgings.
 
 ii4 PEMBERTON; 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE QUAKER PREACHER. 
 " And things are not what they seem." Longfellow. 
 
 As Pemberton sat in the parlor one morning, a week or 
 two after the evening at Madame Dumont's, he heard a 
 loud, peculiar knock at the front door, and shortly after- 
 ward old Fox entered, ushering in a gentleman of rather 
 singular appearance. The visitor was apparently an aged 
 member of the Society of Friends. His hair was silver 
 white evidently with age, not with powder and hung 
 low over his forehead, while it straggled, untied and queue- 
 less, down the sides of his face, and behind over his neck. 
 His dress was not that of the Quaker aristocracy of the 
 period, but of the more simple and austere class of Friends 
 who inhabited the distant country neighborhoods. It was 
 a complete suit of homespun drab from his drab hat to 
 his worn and drab buckskin shoes. Despite his age, he 
 seemed erect and vigorous ; his eye seemed not deficient 
 in fire, and his face was rather ruddy than otherwise ap- 
 pearances not unusual in the aged members of his temper- 
 ate and moderate sect. For it is excess which dims the 
 lustre of the eye ; and passion which bends the frame, 
 ploughs furrows in the face, and spreads a pallor over the 
 once ruddy surface of the skin. 
 
 " Art thou Arthur Pemberton ? " 
 
 "Such is my name," politely replied Pemberton won- 
 dering who the stranger could be. 
 
 The visitor's face took a more solemn aspect. " My 
 name is Joshua Parsley. Thou hast heard thy late father 
 speak of his old friend, and humble minister of the word, 
 Joshua Parsley ? ' '
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 11$ 
 
 " I regret to say that I never heard my father speak of 
 you. But any old friend of his is always welcome." 
 
 " It is strange ! Peradventure he did not take thee 
 into his inmost confidence thou wast rather young when 
 he died. But he left me a solemn message for thee. I 
 have refrained thus long from delivering that message. 
 But I have felt of late that I must no longer refrain. I 
 have felt a moving, yea an urging, yea a ' ' 
 
 The sentence was suddenly interrupted by Major Tarle- 
 ton, who threw the door of the room open excitedly, hav- 
 ing entered the house, as was not uncommon in those 
 days, without knocking. 
 
 " Pemberton have you seen Andre this morning? I 
 thought perhaps I might find him with you. That rascal, 
 McLane, has been at some more of his tricks. But I 
 have his trail this time and if I can once get sight of 
 him, I'll tree him, or my name's not Banastre Tarle- 
 ton." 
 
 "And dost thou really wish to see that man of violence 
 and blood, my son ? ' ' spoke the solemn tones of the 
 Quaker from the sofa, where he sat, concealed by the half 
 opened door from the view of Tarleton, who had not en- 
 tered, but continued standing in the doorway. 
 
 " Satan ! who have you got here, Pemberton ? I 
 thought you were alone." 
 
 " Not Satan, my son but an humble opponent of Satan, 
 and follower of the lamb." 
 
 " Of the Fox, you mean," laughed Tarleton, disrespect- 
 fully. " Curse me, if some of the slipperiest fellows I 
 have met around here have not been you same Quakers." 
 
 "Courtesy, if you please, Major," said Pemberton, a 
 little haughtily. "This is an old friend of my father's. 
 You asked about Captain Andrd ; I have not seen him 
 this morning."
 
 n6 PEMBERTON; 
 
 "Well, I must find him," replied Tarleton, coolly, 
 turning on his heel. 
 
 " Stay, my young friend," said the Quaker. "Thou 
 spakest of him whom the men of Belial call Captain 
 McLane, and said thou wished to meet with him." 
 
 "Aye, that I do. I'd tan his hide for him the rebel- 
 lious rascal." 
 
 "Well, my son, I happened to be visiting a brother in 
 Germantown, the other morning, when the men of sin 
 were contending together yea, verily ! And I looked 
 out of the cellar window for we had all gone down into 
 the cellar ; yea, and also into the spiritual cellar, into the 
 dark depths of affliction and there was a confused noise, 
 the thunder of the captains and the shouting and, as I 
 said, I looked twice out of the cellar window. And first 
 I beheld a horseman, at the head of other horsemen, 
 riding down the road furiously and then, the second time 
 I looked, I beheld another horseman, at the head of other 
 horsemen, and he also was riding down the road furiously, 
 yea, like the riding of Jehu, the son of Nimshi and my 
 friend said the second horseman was pursuing the first 
 horseman yea, verily ! And my friend said the name of 
 the first horseman was Tarleton, and that the name of the 
 second horseman was McLane. Now, if thou wast the 
 first horseman, and thou really wished to meet the second 
 horseman, why didst thou not halt and wait for his 
 coming?" 
 
 The Quaker had run on in his discourse, in the kind of 
 rapid sing-song peculiar to certain of the preachers of his 
 sect, heeding not the impatient mutterings and startings 
 of the British officer. But, as he paused, Tarleton took a 
 step forward, and put his hand to his sword in his anger. 
 
 "It was McLane, then ! You know well, you sly and 
 malicious old Thee-and-Thou, that my troop ran, not from
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. II^ 
 
 McLane, but from the whole rebel army. Of course he 
 will brag how he chased Tarleton through German town. 
 But Tarleton led the advance which chased the cursed 
 rebel horde of tatterdemalions back to their holes again. 
 By the" 
 
 "Swear not, young man!" interrupted the Quaker 
 solemnly, rising to his feet. " Take not the name of thy 
 Creator in vain ! Ah, I feel the spirit moving within me 
 it moves to the word of exhortation, to the word of 
 warning, to the word of ' ' 
 
 " Go to the devil with your canting ! Good-day, Pem- 
 berton," exclaimed Tarleton, as he flung himself through 
 the door, slamming it violently behind him. 
 
 "The young man seems rather excited," said the 
 Quaker, calmly resuming his seat. "I trust he will not 
 continue long in that angry frame of mind he might hurt 
 somebody. ' ' 
 
 " He undoubtedly will hurt somebody," replied Pem- 
 berton, who had been greatly amused though he managed 
 to keep all traces of mirth from his countenance at the 
 conversation between Tarleton and the preacher. "But 
 you said you had a message from my father for me." 
 
 "Yes, my son, I have a message, an earnest and im- 
 portant message ; but it is one which I would rather con- 
 fide to thee in the secresy of thy chamber than here, where 
 we may be interrupted by other children of the flesh." 
 
 " Just as you please," replied Pemberton, rising. " My 
 chamber is one of the upper rooms. ' ' 
 
 Pemberton noticed that the Quaker, notwithstanding 
 his age, seemed to experience no difficulty in ascending 
 the stairs ; and he felt proud of the country which could 
 produce such staunch and enduring sons. 
 
 "I think thou hadst better bolt the door," said the 
 preacher, taking a seat.
 
 Il8 PEMBERTONJ 
 
 Pemberton smiled but did as requested. 
 " My son," began the Quaker, ""the message which thy 
 father entrusted to me was this. He had observed with 
 sorrow that even before his death, thou hadst utterly, and 
 I may say entirely, and even altogetherly, given up the 
 use of the plain language." 
 
 "What!" cried Pemberton, impetuously. "You do 
 not mean that this is the message you were intrusted with 
 by my father ?' ' 
 
 The Quaker seemed to be suddenly taken with a fit of 
 convulsions he bent his head nearly to his lap, while his 
 frame shook with emotion. At length it broke forth in 
 an apparently uncontrollable burst of laughter not loud 
 but deep and all the more convulsive from his evident 
 efforts to moderate and subdue it. 
 
 "I shall burst!" at length exclaimed a voice, en- 
 tirely different from that which had before spoken. 
 
 Pemberton looked on in amazement. He thought the 
 venerable preacher must be losing his senses. 
 
 " I cannot keep up the farce any longer I cannot, to 
 save my life," said the Quaker, in a low voice that seemed 
 strangely familiar. At the same time he removed his hat, 
 then his long silver hair which proved to be a wig com- 
 posed his countenance to its natural and not quite so sanc- 
 timonious expression, and the gay, undaunted face of 
 Lieutenant Morris was revealed to his astonished cousin. 
 
 " Why, Arthur, you stare as if you never saw me before," 
 said the Lieutenant. " I think that is a pretty good dis- 
 guise, to deceive even you." 
 
 " Philip this is a tremendous risk. How you puzzled 
 me. I thought at the last you must be crazy," replied 
 Pemberton, half laughing, half alarmed at his cousin's 
 temerity. 
 
 " You looked puzzled. Oh, I shall die just thinking of
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. lip 
 
 it," rejoined Morris, going off into fresh convulsions of 
 subdued laughter. "And didn't I give Tarleton 
 fits?" 
 
 "You were bold to recklessness. Tarleton is not the 
 man to trifle with in that way, I assure you. Had you not 
 passed as a guest of mine, I am not certain that even your 
 assumed age and Quaker garb would have protected you. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, of course I calculated the chances. I knew the 
 weazel could not help himself." 
 
 " But the risk the great risk of this disguise, Phil. 
 You know it is death if they discover you. ' ' 
 
 "I know all that," replied his cousin, coolly; "but do 
 I not look death in the face almost everyday of my life?" 
 
 "But the dishonorable death of a spy and on the 
 gallows ! ' ' 
 
 " Pshaw ! mere words. Dying for one's country is the 
 death of a patriot, whatever men say, and be it by rope 
 or steel or bullet. If I can do tenfold the good to my 
 country by coming here disguised, that I can in the field 
 as a soldier, why I should be a selfish coward not to run 
 the risk. But all this is not to the purpose. Here I am. 
 Now what is the news ? ' ' 
 
 "Nothing is stirring, to my knowledge save what I 
 infer from Tarleton's words of an expedition this after- 
 noon. I shall signal a small attack. I will move about a 
 little this evening, and pick up what I can. Of course 
 you will not pass the night in the city ? " 
 
 "No. I have some friends to see some of the leading 
 ministers and elders of the flock," replied Morris, smiling. 
 " My market wagon, well-loaded, is hitched at your door. 
 It is well that Howe and the others are so fond of good 
 dinners. How is auntie ? " 
 
 "In good health, as usual." 
 
 "Loyal, as ever?"
 
 120 PEMBERTON; 
 
 "Loyal as ever." 
 
 "You do not forget the flag? Do not let Foxey over- 
 sleep himself. The other night we came near being sur- 
 prised the flag had said nothing. And we heard nothing 
 either through Captain Fanny. That is the reason I am 
 here." 
 
 " Foxey does the best he can. But we cannot obtain 
 information of every movement. You know I will not 
 play a double-handed game. I will not profess to be a 
 devoted royalist, and worm myself into the confidence of 
 the British officers, in order to betray it. That is not my 
 style, Phil." 
 
 " They say that you and Andre are devoted friends, and 
 I believe so from what I saw at Wissahickon. Who is the 
 deceived one ? ' 7 
 
 "Neither." 
 
 " He must give you many important pieces of informa- 
 tion." 
 
 "No. I will not let him. I always shut his mouth, 
 when the confidence of friendship opens it too widely." 
 
 "Some of our officers are beginning to doubt you. 
 They ask, how can he be a true patriot, and yet be hand 
 and glove with a British officer?" 
 
 "I cannot help it," replied Pemberton, while his face 
 glowed with his earnestness; "I will go thus far to aid 
 my country and her cause as far as I can go in honor. 
 Not to serve myself, or her, will I go further. I will be- 
 tray no one. If your superiors doubt me fear I will pur- 
 posely mislead them let them set at naught my signals 
 and my messengers, and pay no further attention to them." 
 
 " Well, Arthur, you know what /think. I trust you to 
 the uttermost ; trust you with my own life, as I am doing 
 now, but that is nothing ; would trust you with my coun- 
 try's life, which is everything."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 121 
 
 "What does Washington say?" 
 
 " He says that he fully understands you, respects you, 
 believes in you. The trouble is not with him, you may 
 be assured. It is with a commoner order of men." 
 
 "What do you think of the General, Phil? The 
 British officers used to express a great deal of contempt 
 for him, giving to Lee, the Englishman, the credit of 
 every able movement ; but since Lee's capture, and the 
 splendid dash on Colonel Rahl at Trenton, they do not 
 seem quite so certain that Lee was our ' palladium' ! ' ' 
 
 "A fig for Lee," exclaimed Morris. "Washington is 
 not only the ablest commander we have, but by all odds 
 the noblest and most glorious man. Notwithstanding the 
 calumnies of Lee and his friends, for Lee wished to have 
 Washington's place, you know, he manifests no irrita- 
 bility, always speaks of Lee with courtesy, admits his 
 brilliant abilities, and laughs not, while all the camp is 
 laughing, at his ridiculous capture. You have not heard, 
 perhaps, Arthur, how it all happened ; it is, as the old 
 saying goes, as good as a farce." 
 
 "I have heard nothing, save that Lee ventured too far 
 from his army, and was betrayed by a tory. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, it is a capital joke. Major Wilkinson tells it. 
 He sought out Lee with a letter from Gates ; Gates was 
 up Jersey, in a deuce of a quandary, you know, fearing he 
 might stumble with his little reinforcement on the British. 
 Wilkinson finds Lee in bed at a tavern at Baskinridge, 
 three miles off from his troops, that much nearer the 
 British at New Brunswick, and with only a small guard. 
 Well, Wilkinson throws himself on the floor in his blanket 
 among Lee's suite, and sleeps till daylight next morning. 
 About eight o'clock Lee comes down half-dressed, in his 
 slippers and blanket coat, collar wide open, and dirty 
 linen, a regular sloven. I don't believe in slovens; a
 
 122 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 slouch in one thing, a slouch in everything. Washington 
 is always dressed like a gentleman. Not till ten o'clock 
 was Lee ready for breakfast ! 
 
 "Rather late that, I confess," said Pemberton; "he 
 was not the early bird that catches the worm. ' ' 
 
 "No, indeed, he was the foolish bird that the fowler 
 caught. He wasted full two hours in quarrelling with 
 some Connecticut privates, then, after breakfast, he sits 
 down to write to Gates. Was barely through with the 
 letter, had just signed his name at the bottom, when Wil- 
 kinson, looking out of the window, sees a party of British 
 dragoons dashing up the lane. * The British are on you !' 
 shouts Wilkinson. 'Where's the guard? D n the 
 guard, why don't they fire? ' cried Lee." 
 
 "Where were the guards?" 
 
 " Like master like man, slovenly general, slovenly dis- 
 cipline ; the guards had stacked their arms, and gone off 
 to sun themselves. Before they knew, the red coats were 
 upon them, and they scattering in all directions. Then 
 a voice shouted, * Come out, General, or we'll burn you 
 out.' And again, 'Come out at once, curse you, we've 
 no time to lose.' The General walked out, they knew 
 their man, in slippers and blanket-coat and bareheaded ; 
 they mounted him as he was, on Wilkinson's horse, which 
 stood saddled and bridled at the door, and clattered off 
 triumphantly to New Brunswick." 
 
 " They did not stay then to make the General's suite 
 prisoners!" 
 
 "They were in too much of a hurry for that. But the 
 cream of the joke is yet to come. When they first gal- 
 loped up, Wilkinson had possessed himself of Lee's letter 
 to Gates, which was lying on the table. And I know not 
 whether he read it then and there, or whether Gates 
 showed it to him afterward, but he says the letter was full
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. I2J 
 
 of sarcastic comments on Washington's want of general- 
 ship. One sentence in particular he remembers, where 
 Lee said that, between himself and Gates, ' a certain great 
 man was most damnably deficient in military ability.' 
 The ink was hardly dry before the red-coats galloped up 
 the lane, and proved Lee 'most damnably deficient,' I 
 think. It's a splendid joke, is it not? All the army is 
 laughing at it."* 
 
 "Retribution came soon in that case," replied Pem- 
 berton. " But, Phil, it sounds very odd to hear you talk- 
 ing in so loose a strain, with that Quaker coat on. I 
 should think that you could not utter an oath in that 
 garb." 
 
 "I do find it difficult," laughed Morris; "but, then, 
 on the other hand, I feel an almost irresistible propensity 
 toward lying." 
 
 " Hush, hush, Phil, don't catch up the slang of the 
 streets. You know that that is false. And, by the way, 
 I fear you rather overdo your part as a Quaker preacher. ' ' 
 
 " Of course ; you suspected who it was, all along ! Un- 
 doubtedly ! Oh, Arthur ! " 
 
 " No, I own up frankly that you deceived me entirely, 
 
 General Charles Lee, who was thought of so highly at the opening of the war, 
 after his court-martial and sentence of one year's suspension, for his conduct at 
 Monmouth, sank somewhat into disrepute. His animadversions upon Washington 
 led to a duel with Col. Laurens, one of Washington's Aids, in which Lee was 
 wounded. He died from an attack of chills and fever in Philadelphia in 1782, and 
 was buried in Christ-church ground, notwithstanding the following curious passage 
 in his will : " I desire most earnestly that I may not be buried n any church or 
 churchyard, or within a mile of any Presbyterian or Anabaptist meet ng house ; for 
 since I have resided in this country have kept so much bad compan wh le living, 
 that I do not choose to continue it when dead." That he was still quite popular, is 
 proven by the fact that he was buried with military honors, while h s funeral was 
 attended by the highest civic and military characters, and a large concourse of 
 citizens. He was a man of undoubted military ability, and, as Washington Irving 
 says, " there was nothing crafty or mean in his character, but he was a disappointed 
 and embittered man, and the gall of bitterness overflowed his generous qualities." 
 He died unmarried.
 
 124 PEMBERTON; 
 
 at the time ; but I think my suspicions would have arisen 
 after reflection." 
 
 " That is because you know the genuine article. But 
 these red-coats do not. I must act up or down to 
 their conceptions of the character. If I were simply to 
 give them nature, they would suspect me. A country 
 Quaker preacher, who was not something of a crazy 
 bigot, would make them open their eyes suspiciously. 
 But I give them what they will consider the genuine 
 article." 
 
 "I think we have talked quite long enough together," 
 said Pemberton, rising. " Do not forget yourself, outside 
 of that door." 
 
 "Trust me for that, my son," replied Morris, resuming 
 his hat and wig, casting his countenance into a cold, cast- 
 iron mould, and speaking as with a new voice, which 
 proved his wonderful power of mimicry. "And now, 
 having delivered the message with which I was sent, I will 
 cry aloud as one did formerly yea, as David did, when 
 he was a wanderer, and peradventure in deep affliction 
 no doubt alluding to the spiritual horse ' a horse, a horse, 
 my kingdom for a horse ! ' ' 
 
 "That's stolen, Phil," said Pemberton laughing. 
 ."My young friend, thou art wrong, and slanderous, 
 and presumptuous ! A man cannot steal what has no 
 owner therefore I have not stolen ; nay, verily, I have 
 only appropriated." 
 
 "Well, grow serious, Phil. I am about to unbolt the 
 door." 
 
 "One word first," said Morris, pulling off his hat 
 and wig again. " How is that beautiful Miss Graham? " 
 " Miss Isabella is as well and beautiful as ever," replied 
 Pemberton, gravely. 
 
 " Pshaw I mean the other, Miss Helen. Isabella is
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 125 
 
 too cold and stately for me. But Helen Graham is cer- 
 tainly the most beautiful and fascinating woman the good 
 Lord ever made." 
 
 "I disagree entirely with you, Phil I think Miss Isa- 
 bella the most charming and beautiful woman the good 
 Lord ever made but I hope you are not growing foolish 
 over Helen Graham. I thought perhaps it was your wound 
 and the loss of blood that made you act so funnily the 
 other day at Germantown. Really I could hardly believe 
 that that serious, sentimental youth, kissing a lady's rosy 
 fingers, was the same old laughing, reckless Phil I used to 
 know, and whom I see here to-day." 
 
 " Be merciful, Arth !" replied Phil, with a lugubrious ex- 
 pression of countenance. ' ' But really that Miss Helen fasci- 
 nates me so, that I am no longer myself in her presence. ' ' 
 
 "And you a good Whig, too ! Why Helen is as rank 
 and bitter a Tory as you can find in the State." 
 
 " I don't care if she is we don't fight with women." 
 
 " And cares more for the little finger of a certain British 
 officer, than for your whole body. ' ' 
 
 " Do you mean Captain Andre?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Well, he is a handsome fellow for an Englishman, but 
 she has seen him fifty times to where she has seen me once. ' ' 
 
 " I wish she could see you with that hat and wig on 
 and yet it would be dangerous, for she has sharp eyes, and 
 she might think it her duty to give you to the halter." 
 
 " Let us try her," replied Morris, rising. "Of course 
 she would know me ; but if she would betray me well, I 
 would be ready to die then." 
 
 " Phil in one word, and it is better said now at once, 
 Helen Graham is entirely beyond your reach. She loves 
 another and would not love you, a Whig, if she were 
 fancy free. Think no more of her."
 
 126 PEMBERTON, 
 
 " Arthur Pemberton did I ever give up anything be- 
 cause it was difficult?" 
 
 " No," laughed Arthur, " I will say that for such a rat- 
 tlecap, you were always the most pertinacious and obsti- 
 nate of created beings ! ' ' 
 
 "Others may doubt and despond as to the success of 
 our arms, I never doubt it. If we persevere to the end, 
 we shall win. The eye that never blenches, the cheek that 
 never pales, the hand that never falters these, in the end, 
 win the victory ! What I am in war, old fellow," and he 
 laid his hand affectionately upon Arthur's shoulder, "I 
 am in love. I mean to win Helen Graham." 
 
 Pemberton shook his head. 
 
 " I mean to win her ! As to loving her, I cannot help 
 myself. The thought of her puts me in a ferment the 
 sight of her, as you saw, makes a different man of 
 me." 
 
 "This is folly, Phil," said Arthur, in a low voice 
 " that folly which leads to bitterness and heart-break. I 
 tell you as a secret, trusting it to your honor because I 
 would save you and her needless pain that I have the best 
 of reasons for believing that Helen is betrothed to Captain 
 Andre." 
 
 Philip gasped as if he had received a stab. " Be it so," 
 he said, after a pause; "I still love her, and shall never 
 cease to love her." 
 
 Then, resuming some of his former defiant recklessness 
 of manner, he added " Arth, when I see her the wife of 
 another man, and half-a-dozen children around her knees, 
 I will give up my case as hopeless. But not till then. 
 You know my motto which has brought me through so 
 many desperate places ' Never despair!' I will win 
 Helen Graham!" 
 
 * A wilful man will have his way ; and if you ever get
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 127 
 
 Helen Graham, there will be two wilful people, that is 
 all," replied Pemberton. 
 
 " I hope that won't be all, Arth," replied Phil, laugh- 
 ing. "But as you find I am, as of old, utterly unper- 
 suadable and unconvertible from anything that I have made 
 up my mind to, suppose I resume the costume of the sect 
 of whose stubbornness and obstinacy I have inherited such 
 a distinguished share, and visit some more of the 
 brethren." 
 
 "One word further," said Pemberton in a low voice. 
 " I intend to change our plan as to showing flags. Some 
 one may grow suspicious. After the first of next month, 
 we will show the largest flag while all the royal troops re- 
 main in the city. If they should all march out or nearly 
 all we will haul down the flag entirely. How does it 
 strike you?" 
 
 " It is an excellent plan to throw suspicion off the scent 
 that is, if Foxey can be made to understand the change, 
 and does not blunder." 
 
 " Oh, I'll see to that. Have you any difficulty in 
 making the signals out ?" 
 
 " None in the least especially with field glasses. We 
 have three excellent points of observation a house on the 
 Ridge, one on the other side of the Schuylkill, and one in 
 Jersey. They all notify headquarters and the Jersey sta- 
 tion the forts also. But I really must go now. Some- 
 body may steal my poultry." 
 
 Morris resumed his disguise, and, as Pemberton un- 
 bolted and opened the door, his face grew almost severe 
 in its solemnity. 
 
 At the bottom of the flight of stairs they encountered 
 Fox. The apparent Quaker paused before him. 
 
 "Art thou a son of Ham? then art thou still in the 
 bondage of sin and the mire of corruption !"
 
 1 28 PEMBERTON J 
 
 "What's yer say, Mas'? O' course I'se fon' of ham, 
 I's berry fon' of ham, so's Dinah, so's the pickaninnies." 
 
 "I am fearful this is a degenerate son of perdition. 
 Negro, what is thy name?" 
 
 "Foxey Mas'. Fox George Fox Mas'. Ain't dat 
 yer a good name ?' ' 
 
 Deigning no reply, the seeming Quaker placed one of 
 his hands on the negro's head. 
 
 " Foxey, Fox, George Fox mind the light, mind the 
 light ! dost understand ? mind the light ! " 
 
 "Yes, Mas', I 'tend to mind all de lights missis am 
 berry particuler about dat," said the negro, as the seem- 
 ing Quaker passed on to the front door ; and then, shak- 
 ing hands solemnly with Pemberton, got into his wagon, 
 and drove off. 
 
 "Dat's a mighty queer ole gemman, Mas' Arthur," 
 said Fox, as Pemberton closed the door. " Fon' of ham 
 of course I is fon' of ham. Ha, ha, Mas' Arthur, a 
 berry funny ole gemman." 
 
 " How about the flags, Foxey? Does the proud ensign 
 of Britain still flout the air? " 
 
 " Say dat agin, Mas' Arthur." 
 
 " Does the proud ensign of Britain still flout the air? " 
 repeated Pemberton, smiling. 
 
 " Dat's berry purty. Does de proud ensime of Britain 
 flog de air ! I mus' recommember dat." 
 
 "How about the flags, Foxey? I have only seen that 
 smallest one for some time now. ' ' 
 
 "De berry littlest one, Mas' Arthur," said the negro, 
 his eye lighting with a little extra intelligence. 
 
 "How would it do to give that one a rest, and fly a 
 rather larger one say the next size larger, Foxey ? ' ' 
 
 " De berry ting, Mas' Arth. I'll run him up, dis berry 
 subjunctive moment."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 1 29 
 
 As the negro mounted the stairs, he might be heard 
 trying to repeat the phrase which had so charmed him 
 especially the "proud ensime," and "flogde air," which 
 latter he evidently thought a most happy conception. 
 
 That afternoon Pemberton strolled around but heard 
 nothing of interest, save that Tarleton had gone off, as he 
 threatened, on the track of Captain McLane. But late 
 in the evening Tarleton's party returned, tired and dis- 
 heartened. Tarleton himself gave the curious questioners 
 no satisfaction ; but his men could not keep so careful a 
 guard over their tongues. They had got on the trail of 
 McLane near Frankford had found him alone, and 
 hemmed him in. When they came in sight of the noted 
 partisan, he was riding quietly along, and seemed to medi- 
 tate no resistance. Two of Tarleton's men had spurred 
 up to capture him, one on each side, and as they neared 
 him, let their swords fall in their slings to have their right 
 hands free to grasp his shoulders. But McLane, at the 
 last moment, had rapidly drawn a heavy pistol, shot one 
 trooper through the head, knocked the other senseless 
 from his saddle with the discharged weapon, leaped the 
 fence, and escaped into an adjacent woods. Tarleton was 
 angry enough to have shot a dozen men, but his mortifi- 
 cation was so great that he did not utter even a single 
 oath, after the first fiery, tremendous imprecation. His 
 dragoons joked about it, when well out of hearing, saying 
 that if McLane went on, he would end in making the 
 Major quite a religious character.
 
 130 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PRO AND CON. 
 
 Men have two eyes and power of mental motion 
 That they may see all sides of everything; 
 And learn sweet Charity and Christian Love 
 Even for those they earnestly oppose. 
 None are entirely right, and none all wrong. 
 
 ANDRE" and Pemberton, though they had become the 
 warmest of friends, seldom conversed upon the great and 
 absorbing question of the day. At first they had often 
 argued the matter ; but at length, each finding the other 
 firm as a rock in his own opinions, they had by a kind of 
 tacit understanding agreed to differ. But on one pleasant 
 Sunday afternoon, as the two took a stroll out through 
 the woods to Centre Square then a natural forest of oaks 
 and hickories and further on to the banks of the beauti- 
 ful Schuylkill, Andre renewed the subject. In truth, the 
 Colonial cause, with its loss of Philadelphia, followed by 
 the loss of the forts which commanded the Delaware for 
 a second attack by Lord Cornwallis had proved more suc- 
 cessful than the Hessian attack under Count Donop the 
 destitute condition of the army at Whitemarsh, owing in 
 a great degree to a badly managed commissariat, and the 
 rapid depreciation of the Continental paper money, looked 
 discouraging enough just then, notwithstanding the defeat 
 and capture of Burgoyne. 
 
 As we calmly and dispassionately gaze back upon the 
 field from this distance of time, the game seemed up the 
 queen and castles taken, and the king with but a few 
 moves left upon the board before encountering the inevit- 
 able checkmate. If Franklin had not succeeded in nego- 
 tiating the French Alliance, it is very difficult to avoid
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 131 
 
 the conclusion that the Revolution would have failed, and 
 Independence have been put off for fifty or even a hun- 
 dred years. 
 
 But your "ifs" are pregnant things. The persuasive 
 philosopher did not fail and the sword of Charlemagne 
 was thrown into the scale of Destiny. 
 
 "Pemberton," said Andre, as they stood in the warm 
 sun of that November day, and looked up and down the 
 graceful windings of the "hidden river," "this is too 
 bright and beautiful a world to be the abode of hatred and 
 contention especially the hatred and contention of bro- 
 thers. Why cannot this unnatural war be ended ? " 
 
 "It can, very easily. Let Sir William Howe and his 
 soldiers embark for home, and the land will be at peace." 
 
 "Would it be at peace? Would there not begin at 
 once a hunting down and hanging of all its sons who had 
 proven their loyalty to their king?" 
 
 " I think not, if it were agreed that the lives and pro- 
 perty of the Tories should be held sacred, as the price of 
 peace and independence." 
 
 " Independence ; what a delusive word that is. I won- 
 der, Pemberton, that a man of your fine sense can be de- 
 luded by it. Do you not see that you cannot be inde- 
 pendent ? That you are not strong enough to be so ? In 
 the very nature of the case, you must lean upon and be 
 protected by one of the great European Powers, you must 
 be the child or ward either of France or of England. Are 
 you not already seeking the protection of France, con- 
 scious that you cannot stand alone ? The only real and 
 practical question, therefore, is, shall these Colonies be- 
 long to England or to France ? To Protestant England, 
 or to Roman Catholic France ? Shall they strengthen the 
 great European bulwark of the Protestant cause, or shall 
 they strengthen the favorite son of Rome ? I, as a child
 
 132 PEMBERTON; 
 
 of the Huguenots those hunted exiles from the Papal 
 scourge wonder that any man with English blood in his 
 veins, and with Protestant blood in his veins, can give 
 other than one indignant answer." 
 
 "Andr6, my dear friend," replied Pemberton, "look- 
 ing at the question from your point of view, I might 
 answer as you do. But if I know the temper of my coun- 
 trymen, and of our leading classes and you know this 
 Revolution was made by our best and ablest men, our 
 Colonial aristocracy, if I may use the word ; men who 
 rebelled not so much against despotic and grievous mea- 
 sures, as against despotic and unjust principles, seeing to 
 what in practice they would ultimately lead if I under- 
 stand the temper and feelings of these men, we intend just 
 as little to be the tool and puppet of Roman Catholic 
 France as of Protestant England." 
 
 " I suppose, of course, you do not intend it but my 
 argument is that you cannot avoid it ; that you will inevi- 
 tably be compelled, by the pressure of circumstances, to 
 lean upon one or the other nation for guidance and sup- 
 port." 
 
 "And I hold that the Colonies are no longer children 
 that they have become of age, and are entitled to the 
 rank of States, with the liberty of acting for themselves. " 
 
 "Parson Duche, your eloquent divine, does not think 
 so. Have you heard that he has written to Washington, 
 advising him to give up the struggle. He was heartily 
 with you, the lauded chaplain of your Congress, until the 
 Declaration of Independence was adopted ; then he saw 
 the folly of the thing, as I do. Have you heard of his 
 letter?" 
 
 "Yes, and that Washington instantly sent it on to 
 Congress for their information. If Duche thinks he is 
 doing right, if he is acting according to his sincerest and
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 133 
 
 best judgment you know I am not a fanatic, if I am a 
 Whig I do not blame him." 
 
 " Judge Chew, Beverly Robinson, Mr. Galloway, your 
 cousin James, and the dozen other leading gentlemen that 
 your Congress banished to Virginia, and thousands of others 
 whom they represent, and who went with you so long as 
 it was a mere question of your rights as Englishmen, see 
 this matter almost as I do. Why even that clever Mr. 
 Dickinson, who wrote your famous ' Farmer's Letters ' 
 against the foolish course of the Ministry you know I am 
 with you on that question is opposed to the notion of in- 
 dependence. The brave and intelligent Governor Frank- 
 lin, too, takes sides against his father in this matter." 
 
 "All very worthy and estimable gentlemen, doubtless," 
 replied Pemberton, smiling. " But you know, Andr6, my 
 dear fellow, I always do my own thinking." 
 
 " And Lord Chatham too, who has stood your friend in 
 Parliament, through thick and thin, till now, he says he 
 never will consent to sever so wide a region from the do- 
 minion of the British crown." 
 
 " I admire and respect Lord Chatham, and, in common 
 with the rest of my countrymen, thank him most deeply 
 for his many noble and generous efforts in our behalf. 
 But Andre, it is natural that a born Englishman, who ex- 
 pects to live and die in England, should see this matter 
 from a point of view very different from ours." 
 
 " And I suppose," commented Andr, a little ironically, 
 for he was in great earnest, and deeply moved, " that as 
 you colonists hold that all men are created equal, the 
 opinion ot the Earl of Chatham has no more weight with 
 you than the opinion of your old negro Foxie." 
 
 " Do you not think, upon consideration, that you .are a 
 little unjust in saying that ?' ' responded Pemberton, in a 
 warmer tone than he had hitherto used.
 
 134 PEMBERTON; 
 
 Andre paused a moment before he replied. " Indeed. 
 Pemberton, it seems to .me that I am not in the least un- 
 just. That is, if you adhere to and support the Independ- 
 ence declaration. It says, as I well remember, because it 
 struck me as such a piece of absurdity for a respectable 
 body like your Congress to put forth, '"We hold it to be 
 self-evident that all men are created equal.' If that does 
 not put Lord Chatham and old Foxie on a level, then I 
 do not understand the meaning of words." 
 
 "In one sense I hold they are on a level ; that Foxie 
 has just as clear a right to the enjoyment of his life and 
 liberty, and to pursue his happiness as he sees fit, as Lord 
 Chatham has." 
 
 ' Then why do you hold Foxie as a slave?" 
 
 " I do not ; Foxie is a free man." 
 
 " That is simply because of your Quaker principles ; but 
 the great body of your countrymen have no such scruples, 
 and I find negro slaves, and sometimes thousands of them, 
 in every one of your colonies. Washington holds slaves, 
 and your Mr. Jefferson, who penned, I believe, that fine 
 saying about equality, holds slaves himself. ' ' 
 
 "That only proves our laws and ourselves inconsistent, 
 not that the principle is false. And if we establish the 
 principle, it will, slowly perhaps, but surely, work out the 
 extirpation of all laws and customs that are opposed to it. 
 We are even now taking steps to do away with slavery in 
 Pennsylvania. ' ' 
 
 " But, according to your own statement, if you establish 
 a false principle it will be continually evolving mischief. 
 Now, granting, for the moment, that all men are equal in 
 the sense you mention, your assertion of equality is an 
 absolute one. You make no mention of the natural in- 
 equality between men. Depend upon it that if you suc- 
 ceed in establishing a Republic, with that Declaration as
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 135 
 
 its corner-stone, you will find the great masses of the peo- 
 ple even the most ignorant and vicious of them con- 
 tinually asserting their belief that they, being equal, are 
 fully as capable of managing all governmental affairs as 
 the wisest and best men among you. You will become 
 the prey of vulgar and unprincipled demagogues. Why, 
 even your leading classes themselves or those who should 
 be the leading classes will learn to doubt their own 
 ability and fitness to rule, and, in thus doubting, will lose 
 the ability itself. A majority a mere majority of num- 
 bers, without regard to intellect or culture will think 
 itself authorized to settle all questions, alike of politics, 
 religion and morals, and you, and other intelligent men like 
 you, will find the little finger of this legal mob misrule 
 thicker than the King of England's loins." 
 
 "You draw a terrible picture," said Pemberton smiling, 
 "and I might admit its truth, if I could imagine that the 
 great fact of the natural inequality of men, could ever be 
 obliterated from the minds of a people by any amount of 
 false teaching." 
 
 "You admit then," said Andre, in a surprised tone, 
 " that your vaunted doctrine of Equality has a flaw in it ?" 
 
 " I admit this that all men are created equal. And I 
 assert, also, that all men are created unequal." 
 
 "Are you not rather inconsistent, my friend Arthur? " 
 
 "I think not," replied Pemberton. "You know how 
 earnestly all we colonists have studied this matter of gov- 
 ernment, within the last ten years. Now, this is the con- 
 clusion that I for one have come to. There are two great 
 facts or truths of human existence, i. That all men are 
 Equal, inasmuch as they have a common manhood, and 
 are equally entitled to the enjoyment of life and liberty, 
 and to pursue their own happiness in their own way of 
 course not interfering with the rights or happiness of
 
 136 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 others. 2. That men are created with Unequal powers 
 and capacities. If you base a form of government upon 
 the first of these facts alone, you have, as the ultimate re- 
 sult, a vulgar, unprincipled, mobocratic government a 
 government in which demagogues become for selfish ends 
 the flatterers of the people telling them, (as courtiers 
 tell despotic monarchs) that they are the sole source of 
 power, and can do no wrong ; and thus you finally uprear a 
 huge colossus of brass and clay, which it ultimately be- 
 comes the solemn duty of all wise and able men to dash 
 to pieces." 
 
 "That is what you will come to, if you succeed," 
 exclaimed Andre warmly. "Your famous Liberty bell 
 at your State House, was flawed before it was put up and 
 I warrant it will crack again, before a hundred peals have 
 been rung upon it." 
 
 "We shall see," replied Pemberton, calmly. "But 
 you interrupted me before I had finished. On the other 
 hand, if you base a form of government upon the fact of 
 Inequality alone, you have some kind of an Aristocracy 
 in which the masses of the people are looked upon as mere 
 beasts of burden mere hewers of wood and drawers of 
 water ; such as Europe was in the feudal ages, and, in a 
 great degree, is now." 
 
 " There is at least something noble, refined and glorious 
 in Aristocracies, the governments of the best, even with 
 all their faults," replied Andre enthusiastically. "Give 
 me such a government a hundred times over, rather than 
 a government of the ignorant and uncultivated multitude, 
 led by a set of selfish and unscrupulous demagogues, who 
 pander to their prejudices and passions to promote their 
 own unworthy ends." 
 
 "I might perhaps agree with you," said Pemberton, 
 " for my instincts, I confess, are all that way but it seems
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 137 
 
 to me there is a government better than either. It is a 
 government based upon both of those great facts Equality 
 and Inequality. A government which shall recognize 
 natural leadership, and yet also recognize that the masses 
 of men come into the world for their own purposes, and 
 not merely to be the tools and slaves of those who are 
 more gifted. A government which shall hold that while 
 all men have an equal right to be governed fairly and 
 justly, shall also hold that all have not an equal right to 
 be legislators and governors that no man has a right to 
 fill any office, legislative, judicial or executive, unless he 
 has the intelligence, culture and character to perform its 
 duties efficiently. And shall be thus a real Aristocracy, or 
 government of the best, not for the mere selfish interests 
 of that ablest class alone, but for the promotion of the great 
 interests of all the nation. And I should call this not a 
 Democracy, but a Republic. ' ' 
 
 " Pemberton, my dear friend you do not suppose that 
 I, of all men, would object to such a government ! " 
 
 " Perhaps not but you are fighting against it." 
 
 "What a dear, delightful visionary you are, Arthur. 
 Now to come down to common sense not Tom Paine' s, 
 but that of ordinary mortals. Did you ever find a man 
 who would accept that view of yours of what your govern- 
 ment should be ! " 
 
 " I think I could find a good many ; but just now, 
 thanks to General Howe and his regiments, we have more 
 pressing business on hand than discussing how our turkey 
 shall be cooked. The first thing is to catch our turkey." 
 
 "Well, to leave these theoretical questions, and come 
 back again to the great practical question how shall this 
 unholy war be stopped?" 
 
 " Oh, I suppose by embracing Sir William's modest 
 offer ; the rebels all to come in on bended knees, with hal-
 
 138 PEMBERTON; 
 
 ters around their necks, and say they repent ; and Sir Wil- 
 liam in return to give them absolution ; and everything to 
 go on in the same delightful manner as before," replied 
 Pemberton ironically. 
 
 "Would your leaders not accept a settlement on the 
 basis of Galloway's proposition ? That came within one 
 vote of a majority in Congress, a year or two ago. A Gen- 
 eral Council to be established for the Colonies and no 
 law to be considered passed that does not meet the appro- 
 bation both of your Council and of Parliament. ' ' 
 
 * Two years ago that might have been accepted if it had 
 been generously offered," said Pemberton musingly. " I 
 have not the least idea that it would be accepted now." 
 
 "Pemberton," said Andre, in a lower and more confi- 
 dential tone, " I do not deny that I am ambitious but I 
 trust it is a high and generous ambition that I cherish. It 
 would be a feather in any man's cap to settle this unnatu- 
 ral difficulty without further bloodshed. Why cannot you 
 and I settle it here. I feel sure that I know the terms on 
 which England will settle it ; and probably you are equally 
 well informed as to the ultimatum of your countrymen. I 
 never have sought to penetrate your secrets, any more than 
 you have mine ; but I know that you are in correspondence 
 with all their leading men. What say you?" 
 
 " I think you over-estimate my standing and importance, 
 though not my knowledge of the feelings of my country- 
 men. But what would you propose?" 
 
 " In one word, what you choose ; so it is not Independ- 
 ence. The claim to taxation shall be given up. I think 
 it only fair that the Colonies should agree to contribute 
 something toward the general expenses of the kingdom, 
 for the army and navy are maintained for the defence of 
 all. But we will not even stand upon that. Everything 
 shall be granted but Independence."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 139 
 
 *' For myself," said Pemberton, grasping Andre warmly 
 by the hand, "I believe I would at once, if I had the 
 power, accept such a proposition. I am, by education and 
 constitutionally, so utterly averse to war, so conscious that 
 even its triumphs contain the fruitful seeds of other wars, 
 which ripen generally in about a generation. But I must 
 answer you for others, not for myself. I do not think that 
 anything short of Independence would be accepted." 
 
 " If there even is a probability of such a proposition 
 being accepted, it might be offered." 
 
 " I do not think there is at present the slightest proba- 
 bility. Two years ago perhaps one year ago and it 
 would have been hailed with joy, with bonfires and accla- 
 mations. But the keen sword of war cuts national bonds 
 quickly. When a man has been fired at half-a-dozen 
 times, and tried to shoot another as often, it confuses the 
 natural ties of relationship," added Pemberton, smiling. 
 
 " But they are willing to welcome the French with open 
 arms, against whom, with their Indian allies, they have 
 been fighting at our sides for the last fifty years." 
 
 " The Indian allies are now with you, however." 
 
 " Not all of them, by any means. Did you not hear 
 Lord Cathcart tell how he was startled by their yells, dur- 
 ing his recent consultation with McLane. But you do 
 not think there is any use in agitating this liberal plan of 
 settlement?" 
 
 "Not the least. Of course, if the Continental arms 
 should* meet with a great reverse, it might be different. 
 But at present things look tolerably fair and a French 
 alliance would render the success of the States almost cer- 
 tain." 
 
 "No, indeed!" exclaimed Andre proudly. "Even 
 despite a French alliance, we should conquer. But I 
 would save the useless spilling of human blood. For,
 
 J4O PEMBERTON J 
 
 come what may, France shall never add this wide and 
 beautiful land to her crown." 
 
 "I agree with you heartily in that never! But we 
 shall win our Independence ; and then, when the heat and 
 bitterness of the contest have passed by, be always and 
 ever your faithful friend and ally. ' ' 
 
 "We have come back to where we started from, Pem- 
 berton. It cannot be ! I know you mean well, but the 
 Colonies must belong either to France or to England. 
 Knowing this, I shall hope to urge this plan, which you 
 think it would be useless to urge now, at a more propitious 
 season when some great turn of the tide shall prove to 
 the most sanguine among your leaders the folly of further 
 resistance. ' ' 
 
 " It is getting late, let us return," said Pemberton. 
 
 And the young men walked slowly homeward, saying 
 little on the way, for each was considering whether he had 
 said what was wisest in answer to the other. And Pem- 
 berton was further considering and wondering how far 
 Andre had authority for his proposition of settlement, and 
 how far it was merely the result of his own views as to the 
 temper of the English Ministry.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS. 
 
 Great kings by humble means are set at naught. 
 Great fishes are in tiny meshes caught. 
 Great lakes by little leaks do melt away. 
 Great fortunes vanish 'twixt the eve and day. 
 
 EARLY on a December morning, two British officers sat 
 talking to each other in what was then called the Loxley 
 House, on Second Street, near Dock creek. One was 
 Major afterward Colonel Tarleton, and the other the 
 Adjutant-General of the British army. The Loxley House 
 was the quarters of the latter, who had been billeted upon 
 the family of a Mrs. Lydia Darrach, who occupied the 
 premises. 
 
 "We shall have rather a cold march, Major Tarleton, 
 if the present weather holds ; but we intend this time to 
 make it a surprise. Not a man whose loyalty is the least 
 doubtful, must be allowed to leave the city, to give the 
 rebels warning of our approach. ' ' 
 
 " I never saw such a sieve for letting out news as this 
 place is," replied Tarleton. "Why even I can hardly 
 stir out with my troop, but the rebels seem to know all 
 about it, and McLane or Harry Lee is ready to receive 
 me. There must be an infernal lot of spies about." 
 
 "No matter," said his superior, in a low voice, as if 
 fearful that the very walls had ears, ' ' this time I think we 
 shall be too many for them. The movement was only 
 determined upon last night ; and to-night we move. I 
 wish you in the interim to exercise your utmost vigilance, 
 to prevent word from being carried to the enemy. Sir 
 William considers you one of the most vigilant and active 
 officers in the service."
 
 142 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " What man can do I will do ; but the long lines of this 
 city are very difficult to watch. I should like to call your 
 attention to one thing, however. You know that flag 
 which nearly always floats from Pemberton's ?" 
 
 ' ' Of course ; the flag-house. ' ' 
 
 "Perhaps I am rather over-suspicious, but I confess I 
 do not understand why the old nigger, who seems to 
 manage that flag, makes so many changes in it. He has, 
 I believe, a large stock on hand ; for the Pembertons 
 used to be, they say, great shipping merchants ; and some- 
 times he flies a large one, sometimes smaller ones, some- 
 times none at all." 
 
 " Does there seem to be any regularity in his changes ?" 
 
 "Yes; and that is why I have grown suspicious," re- 
 joined Tarleton, his small black eyes assuming a puzzled 
 expression. " When our whole army is in the city he flies 
 a small flag; but the other day, for instance, when Corn- 
 wallis marched out to take the forts, he flew his largest 
 flag." 
 
 "That looks a little suspicious, I confess, and it be- 
 hooves us to be very watchful. But Mrs. Pemberton can- 
 not be suspected of being a party to any treachery. Her 
 sentiments and those of her family are too well known. 
 Why, her cousin James is now under rebel arrest down in 
 Virginia." 
 
 " Very true but her son Arthur scarcely makes a secret 
 of his disloyal principles and, for myself, I believe that 
 were it not for the pain it would give his mother, he 
 would be this day in Washington's camp." 
 
 " Let me see," said the Adjutant General, pulling out a 
 manuscript book. "Yes, here is the name. 'Pemberton, 
 Arthur, son of Rachel. Disloyal, but not to be dreaded ; 
 a visionary young man. Sometimes even writes poetry. 
 Honest and truthful ; rather timid.' I think that a char-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 143 
 
 acter like this would not expose himself to the dangers of 
 playing the spy. Besides, is he not a warm friend of 
 Captain Andre's." 
 
 "Yes; Andre is just such another," replied Tarleton, 
 with a little disdain. " But I do not think either of them 
 is wanting in courage." 
 
 " Can the negro be doing anything on his own ac- 
 count?" 
 
 "It is not improbable, though he seems very stupid." 
 
 " But how could he procure the information?" 
 
 " Oh, that is not difficult ; every General and Colonel 
 almost has now a darkey servant, and they soon find out 
 pretty much all their masters know about the contemplated 
 movements. And darkeys always like to air their know- 
 ledge to one another ; it gives them consequence. ' ' 
 
 "I should not like to take any step that would prove 
 unpleasant to so loyal a citizen as Mrs. Pemberton ; why 
 she loaned Sir William her carriage and horses ; and, be- 
 sides, the raising of that very flag has brought on her a 
 perfect torrent of rebel abuse ; but keep your eyes open, 
 Major." 
 
 " Suppose that nigger attempts to run up his largest flag 
 to-day, had I not better prevent him at once ? If that be 
 a signal, what is the use of stopping all passes, and letting 
 that be shown ?' ' 
 
 "Very true; and to-day will afford a pretty good test 
 as to whether there is any reality in your suspicions. Sup- 
 pose that as it snowed last night, not a flag should be 
 raised all day, what would you think then?" 
 
 " Either that my suspicions were entirely groundless, or 
 that Foxey had no information," replied Tarleton. 
 
 " But he could hardly help knowing that something was 
 going on by afternoon, if he has means of information at 
 all."
 
 144 PEMBERTON; 
 
 " That is true. And I will own myself entirely mista- 
 ken, if no flag is raised. But I'll bet a bottle of brandy 
 that you'll see that nigger's very largest flag waving in the 
 wind within three hours ; that is, if one of my men was not 
 on hand to prevent it." 
 
 "Perhaps you are right, Major." 
 
 " I am so sure of it, that I'm in a hurry to put myself 
 as soon as possible in a position to keep it down. I guess 
 a musket-ball at Foxey's head, will give him a speedy hint 
 not to raise it." 
 
 " Do not hurt him," said the adjutant. 
 
 "You cannot hurt a nigger by shooting him in the 
 head," replied Tarleton, as he hurriedly left the room. 
 
 While this conversation was going on in Mrs. Darrach's 
 house, another conversation upon a similar subject, was 
 being held at Mrs. Pemberton's. 
 
 An hour or so before, Mrs. Darrach had taken a bag 
 and basket, and left her residence with the avowed inten- 
 tion of procuring some meal and groceries for that day's 
 dinner. Making her way up the path that led along the 
 border of Dock creek, she had entered the large and well- 
 kept grounds attached to Mrs. Pemberton's mansion, and 
 walking up to the kitchen, asked Dinah, the colored cook, 
 whether her young master was at home. 
 
 Dinah was Foxey's better half, in two senses, both the 
 spiritual and the material, and one of those truly efficient 
 cooks who were the wonder of a former generation, and 
 seem to be the despair of ours. Dinah knew, if not con- 
 sciously, then unconsciously, which is a higher sort of 
 knowledge what common people describe as " feeling a 
 thing in their bones " that the Almighty had created her 
 to be a cook. She felt as we have said in her very bones 
 for she had bones, though they were not perceivable
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 145 
 
 that she had been created not to be a missionary, or a 
 female politician, or even a lady, so far as that word im- 
 plies culture, but simply what she was. And she stood 
 there in her rotundity, as she had stood in the same 
 kitchen for at least twenty years, with never a thought of 
 changing places, a living, weighty refutation of the truth 
 of the old maxim that " the Lord sends victuals, but the 
 devil sends cooks." Black and shiny, but neat and 
 cleanly in her attire, with a gay turban on her head, and 
 evidently constructed on the same principle that boys use 
 when they construct snow men a small ball on the top of 
 a large ball, upheld by two stout upright sticks or as she 
 herself might have constructed a human being out of apple 
 dumplings, or doughnuts, or gingerbread Dinah stood 
 there, before Mrs. Darrach, the very model cook of the 
 period. 
 
 " Des, Miss Lyddy, Mas' Arthur's to horn' shill I call 
 de missis?" 
 
 "Oh, no. I only wish to see Arthur about a little 
 business. Is he in the breakfast-room ?' ' 
 
 " Breakfas' ! we-uns had breakfas' a hour ago. I reckun 
 you'll find him in de libr'y." 
 
 Going to the library, Mrs. Darrach knocked at the 
 door, and was told to enter. Arthur was alone. 
 
 " Why, Friend Darrach, is that thee?" said Pember- 
 ton, using his Friendly language. " Take a chair by the 
 fire, it is cold this morning." 
 
 "Yes, it is quite cold," replied she, taking a seat near 
 the fire, and near him. 
 
 " Is the snow deep? I have not been out yet." 
 
 "No, not very only some three or four inches." 
 
 "Any news?" asked he, in a lower tone, and with a 
 peculiar glance.
 
 I 46 PEMBERTON J 
 
 "Yes, and very important," replied she, in the same 
 tone. " There is no danger of interruption ? " 
 
 Arthur disappeared, but in a few moments returned. 
 He had stationed Foxey in the entry, with directions to 
 see that all inquirers for him were shown into the front 
 parlor. 
 
 "This room is my sanctum, you remember," said he, 
 again taking his seat. " It has a dead-latch, and no one 
 can open the door from the outside, when it is shut, with- 
 out the key." 
 
 "It is best, thee knows, to avoid all danger of suspi- 
 cion," said his visitor "especially to-day." 
 
 "They had then a council of war last night, as I sup- 
 posed they would ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Yes. I knew what was coming for I was warned to 
 have all the family in bed early. And I did. But I got 
 up again, and putting something around me, stole to the 
 door of the room. Thee knows the house is an old one, 
 and the doors not of the closest." 
 
 "And you could hear distinctly?" said Pemberton, 
 forgetting his Friendly language in his interest. 
 
 "Almost as plain as I hear thee now." 
 
 "Is it to be an attack in force ? " 
 
 "Yes, the whole army." 
 
 ' ' When ? Could you hear that ? ' ' 
 
 " This very night they are to march." 
 
 "That is soon are you certain as to the time?" 
 
 "I am positive." 
 
 " It is rapid work I must get word to the camp at once." 
 
 "That is what I want most to speak about. Can thee 
 doit?" 
 
 " I can signal them but I must also send a messenger. 
 I would that old Abram were in town, ' ' continued Pern- 
 berton, musingly.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 147 
 
 "They agreed that not a pass should be granted to a 
 single man to leave the city." 
 
 " That is bad," replied Arthur in a puzzle. " My mes- 
 sengers can get out without passes, but it is a much longer 
 route, and they run the risk besides of capture. ' ' 
 
 " I have a plan," said his visitor, while a gentle radiance 
 lit up her pale but expressive face. 
 
 "Ah! what is it?" 
 
 "I will go." 
 
 "You, Lydia?" 
 
 " Yes, to save life, the lives of my countrymen, perhaps 
 the life of my country; I will go." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "As thee knows, there is very little flour in the city, 
 and most of what we get comes from Frankford. I went 
 there about a month ago for flour, and I will go again to- 
 day, if I can get a pass. ' ' 
 
 " But it is cold, and snow on the ground. And a walk 
 of ten miles, half the way with a sack of flour, is a great 
 task for one so frail as you are." 
 
 "It is no harder than walking barefoot over the frozen 
 ground, as so many of our poor soldiers are doing. Not 
 one-tenth as hard as dying with camp-fever or small-pox 
 in the hospitals, as so many poor prisoners are doing. If 
 I could save one man's life I would do it. I may save 
 hundreds of lives, and the life of my country, too." 
 
 "You have always refused to take any reward hereto- 
 fore, Lydia. This news is of the utmost importance. You 
 are poor, and it is only right the country should compen- 
 sate you." 
 
 " Not a farthing, not a single farthing !" exclaimed she 
 with great earnestness. " It would seem to me like the 
 price of blood. Only one thing," and the pale face was 
 suffused with crimson, " it is a weakness, but we all have
 
 1 48 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 our little weaknesses, I suppose ; if I should succeed in my 
 errand, and the army should be forewarned, let Washing- 
 ton know that this was the work of a woman, of one who 
 honored and revered him, and loved her struggling coun- 
 try, and that her name was Lydia Darrach. ' ' 
 
 " He shall know it ! And the country, at some safe 
 future time shall know it!" exclaimed Pemberton with 
 enthusiasm. "And your name shall be held in reverence 
 by our children, and our children's children, to the latest 
 generation. ' ' 
 
 "But how am I to get the pass?" said his visitor, 
 relapsing into her usual quiet and thoughtful manner. 
 " They may refuse to give me one, and it is important not 
 to lose time." 
 
 "I think I can arrange that," replied Pemberton, re- 
 flecting for a moment ; " come with me." 
 
 Leaving the room he went forward to the door of the 
 back parlor, and saw that Isabella was there reading. 
 
 " Miss Graham," said he, " Mrs. Lydia Darrach, whom 
 I think you have met before" Isabella bowed "is 
 anxious to obtain a pass to go to Frankford to purchase 
 some flour for her family. I told her I thought you would 
 be able to get her one from General Howe. The Adju- 
 tant General, you know, boards with her, and therefore, 
 you see, it is rather important," continued Pemberton, 
 smiling. 
 
 "I do not care much for the Adjutant General's din- 
 ner," replied Isabella, "soldiers, of course, can rough it, 
 but I de fee), Mrs. Darrach, for you and the children. 
 And yet, I confess it, I do not like much the idea of going 
 around to headquarters for a pass. Perhaps if I gave Mrs. 
 Darrach a note to Colonel Musgrave, he could get her 
 one." 
 
 "That would not do, Bella," said Arthur, a little im-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 149 
 
 patiently. "I should be very much obliged to you, if 
 you would put on your cloak and go at once." 
 
 Isabella looked at him in surprise. There was no mis- 
 take curious as it seemed to her, he was evidently very 
 much in earnest. 
 
 She hesitated not a moment longer. " Wait a minute," 
 said she to Mrs. Darrach. 
 
 While she was gone, Pemberton instructed Mrs. Dar- 
 rach as to whom she might safely apply in Frankford. 
 "At Friend Evans's Joshua Evans, you know, the tan- 
 ner's you will probably find either Captain McLane, 
 Lieutenant Morris, or Colonel Meigs, one of whom doubt- 
 less will be there in the course of the day. If Joshua 
 should happen to be out, go to his brother Samuel's." 
 
 Here Isabella appeared, equipped for walking ; and the 
 two left for the headquarters of General Howe in Market 
 Street. 
 
 Arrived at the dignified mansion one of the best in the 
 city which the British commander had appropriated for 
 his own use, and passing the sentry at the door, they en- 
 tered. One of the lower rooms was occupied as an office 
 for the granting of passes and other official matters, and 
 opening the door of this, Isabella perceived Sir William 
 himself, while his Aid and Secretary, Captain Munchau- 
 sen, sat at a desk before the window. 
 
 Sir William arose in a moment. He was a tall, hand- 
 some, dignified-looking man bearing considerable per- 
 sonal resemblance, as was often noted, to Washington ; a 
 genial, kindly man, greatly beloved both by his officers 
 and men. An admirable general, moreover, when in the 
 field though failing perhaps in pushing his enemy's de- 
 feats into routs but too much given to taking his ease 
 when the battle was over. Some of his own officers 
 averred that Philadelphia was his Capua; and Doctor
 
 15 PE.MBERTON; 
 
 Franklin said that instead of his taking Philadelphia, that 
 city had taken General Howe. 
 
 Rising, as we have said, Sir William addressed Miss 
 Graham 
 
 "I am happy to see you, Miss Graham. Be seated, 
 ladies what can I do for you this snowy morning ? ' ' 
 
 " Sir William," said Isabella, " I have a favor to ask of 
 you." 
 
 " Which you know will be granted if I can possibly do 
 it," replied the General gallantly. "To oblige so fair a 
 lady is in itself a pleasure and when that lady is the 
 ward of Colonel Musgrave, who did us such admirable 
 service at Germantown, the pleasure becomes almost a 
 duty." 
 
 "I know you would oblige me, if you possibly could, 
 had I something important to ask of you," replied Isa- 
 bella, smiling pleasantly. " But this is nothing it is 
 merely to give my Quaker friend here, Mrs. Darrach, who 
 keeps the house where your Adjutant boards, a pass to go 
 to Frankford, to buy a little flour to make his pies and 
 puddings with." 
 
 "It is but a trifle, of course," said the General, a little 
 confused ; " but the fact is, my dear Miss Graham, we are 
 not issuing any passes at all to-day." 
 
 Isabella's manner instantly grew colder. " I suppose 
 though, like other army orders, it is liable to exceptions, 
 and to be overruled at the pleasure of the commanding 
 general." 
 
 "But I have directed in the orders of the day, Miss 
 Graham, that not a pass shall be issued to a single man 
 does not the order read in those words. Captain Mun- 
 chausen ? and you must admit it would hardly look well 
 for me to be the first to break my own orders. ' ' 
 
 Now this would have had to be enough for a man, but
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 151 
 
 a woman, and moreover a young and beautiful woman, is 
 a very different person to deal with. Isabella was a very 
 sensible as well as beautiful woman ; but she had a beauti- 
 ful woman's wilfulness and dislike to being foiled in anything 
 she undertook. She would not have stirred from home 
 on an errand like this, except at her lover's earnest request, 
 but having done so, she would not easily take a refusal. 
 And she had already had an advantage, in that Sir Wil- 
 liam had complimented her. Although a veteran, he had 
 not yet fully realized the bad policy of complimenting a 
 lady who wants a favor of you. It is like giving the enemy 
 in a battle the choice of ground ; and Sir William had the 
 sun in his eyes all through the remainder of the interview, 
 and Isabella knew it. 
 
 Captain Munchausen, at the desk, tumbled over some 
 papers, and then perusing one, made answer : 
 
 'Those are the very words, your Excellency." 
 
 " I see nothing in that order to prevent my having a 
 pass for Mrs. Darrach," said Isabella coolly. ''It says, 
 'not to a single man, 1 and that may be, for all I know, 
 reasonable enough ; but Mrs. Darrach is a woman. ' ' 
 
 The General smiled. 
 
 " You are a keen reasoner, Miss Graham, but do you not 
 see that women are supposed to be included in the pro- 
 hibition ?" 
 
 " And children then, too, I suppose ? No, I see nothing 
 of the kind. And a pass to Mrs. Darrach will be both for 
 a woman and her children, who cannot have bread to eat 
 if they cannot get flour. But if the safety of the city, and 
 of the British army and its General, is to be endangered in 
 some way by giving a pass to Mrs. Darrach, of course she 
 must submit," and Isabella laughed a very pretty, but still 
 slightly ironical laugh. 
 
 Now we suppose it is only human nature, but it is a little
 
 IS 2 PEMBERTGN; 
 
 curious to a philosophical mind, to see with what dislike 
 a gentleman even in high authority, will run counter to 
 the wishes of a lady who stands high in the circles in which 
 he himself moves. Sir William evidently felt embarrassed. 
 The color of the good wine he was so fond of deepened 
 upon his face, and turning to his secretary, he said : 
 
 " Perhaps it would not be a very serious infraction of 
 orders, Munchausen, to give Miss Graham the pass for her 
 friend. We all know that the 'Friends,' to their honor, 
 are nearly universally loyal." 
 
 " We are all opposed to war and the shedding of blood," 
 replied Mrs. Darrach. 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Sir William; "and to the rebels, 
 because they made the war. ' ' 
 
 Lydia said nothing. She did not feel bound to contra- 
 dict the General's assumption. 
 
 The secretary, who had taken up his pen at once, in 
 answer to his General's suggestion, handed the pass to 
 Isabella, who perused it, and finding it all correct, gave it 
 to Mrs. Darrach. 
 
 And she, saying she had but scant time as it was, imme- 
 diately left on her patriotic expedition. 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, Sir William," said 
 Isabella, in a tone that also seemed to say, and I would 
 have been still more obliged if you had granted the favor 
 at once. 
 
 "You are very welcome, Miss Graham. You know 
 that we soldiers are sometimes compelled by a sense of 
 duty to refuse what it otherwise would be our greatest 
 pleasure to grant." 
 
 " I know that all men are very perverse and troublesome 
 beings," replied Isabella, with something still left of the 
 tone of offended bellehood. 
 
 The General thought he had better change the subject.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 153 
 
 Glancing to his secretary, "Are you acquainted with 
 Captain Munchausen, Miss Graham ? I took it for granted 
 you were acquainted. Captain Munchausen, Miss Gra- 
 ham." 
 
 The Captain rose and bowed deeply. The lady bowed, 
 but not very deeply. 
 
 " Captain Munchausen assists, I suppose, in writing 
 your dispatches ; your accounts of your victories, and 
 things of that kind," said Isabella with apparent inno- 
 cence. 
 
 Some of the wits among the rebels had said the same 
 thing though not very innocently but Sir William had 
 never had it said before to his very face. Again the claret 
 deepened on his cheeks ; but the lady looked as serene and 
 smiling as possible. 
 
 "Yes, the Captain generally copies them out for me. 
 He is my secretary, you know." 
 
 " I thought I occasionally recognized the touches of his 
 pen," rejoined Isabella, smiling very benignantly upon 
 both of them. 
 
 "All I do, Miss Graham, I assure you, is simply to 
 transcribe; or else to write out what Sir William dictates," 
 replied the Captain with frank sincerity. 
 
 " Ah, you are too modest by half, Captain. Is he not, 
 Sir William ? But I detain you, no doubt, from your im- 
 portant duties. Good-morning, General ; good-morning j 
 Captain Munchausen," and Isabella, with her usual 
 graceful dignity, left the office, being accompanied by the 
 Captain to the front door. 
 
 "That's a d d unfortunate name you have, Cap- 
 tain," cried Sir William, as gruffly as he was ever in the 
 habit of speaking to his officers, when Munchausen re- 
 entered the room. 
 
 "I am ready, Sir William, at any moment, to relieve
 
 154 PEMBERTON; 
 
 you of the unpleasantness of it," replied the Captain, with 
 gentlemanly dignity. 
 
 "Pshaw, my boy, don't get offended. I'll keep you 
 in spite of all the wits, of both sexes, in the universe. But 
 just see how unreasonable these pretty women arc. Be- 
 cause I did not, at once, and without consideration, do 
 as that magnificent Miss Graham wished, she would not 
 entirely forgive me. I warrant she'll let me feel that I 
 have displeased her, every time she meets me in society 
 for the next month." 
 
 The Captain laughed. It was not entirely respectful, 
 but he could not help laughing. 
 
 "If she were not so splendid a woman," continued his 
 chief "some say that she and her sister are the two very 
 finest women in Philadelphia I should not care. But I 
 really like the girl in a fatherly way, of course and old 
 Musgrave, her guardian, is one of my best officers. ' ' 
 
 Here the entrance of half-a-dozen colonels interrupted 
 Sir William's commentary on what had passed.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 PARTING. 
 
 After Isaoella left the house with Mrs. Darrach, Pem- 
 berton had sought out old Foxey. 
 
 "Any flag flying to-day, Foxey?" 
 
 " Oh, no, Massa Arth no flag to-day. Snow heavy dis 
 las' night, you know," with a grin. 
 
 "You must not forget what I said the other day," con- 
 tinued Arthur, in a low tone. "It would be foolish to 
 fly a big flag when there are no soldiers in the city. Now 
 I have an idea that the whole of them, pretty much, will 
 be marching out of town some time to-day, and of course 
 it would be ridiculous to hoist any flag. ' ' 
 
 " Werry dick'lous, Mas' Arth Old Foxey not gwine to 
 spile his flags by gittin' them snow'd on no, no, hi ! hi ! 
 hi!" 
 
 Having done the best he could, Pemberton sat down to 
 await the return of Miss Graham. In about half-an-hour 
 she came back, her face all glowing with excitement and 
 success ; and, finding Pemberton in the parlor, she gave 
 him an account of her mission. 
 
 "It was lucky you were about, Bella," said he. "1 
 would not have failed in getting that pass," he continued 
 in a whisper, " for a thousand pounds." 
 
 " Then what are you going to give me?" asked Isabella 
 archly. 
 
 He put his hand in his pocket, jestingly, as if to take 
 out his purse ; but she laughed and blushed, and said 
 " Oh, you stupid man !" 
 
 In an instant his arm was around her waist, his lips 
 pressed to hers. " My own sweet, precious love !" he ex- 
 claimed in a low but passionate tone, still enfolding her
 
 156 PEMBERTON; 
 
 queenly, yielding form; " only my country in her peril 
 can rival you in my heart." 
 
 "Arthur my prince, my king, my country, myall!" 
 she murmured. 
 
 Suddenly she started from him. It was nothing but a 
 noise in the street but she resumed her seat at a more 
 decorous distance. 
 
 " I did not want to be under any obligations to Sir Wil- 
 liam Howe," said she smiling. 
 
 " I am sorry, but indeed it could not be helped, Bella," 
 replied Pemberton. 
 
 "Oh, it is all right. He refused my requesi at first 
 and so I left him under a sense of obligation to me, in- 
 stead of the obligation being the other way. I could not 
 have managed the matter better had I planned it all from 
 the beginning." 
 
 "That is curious," said Pemberton, his man's wit at 
 fault ; and it required a detailed account of the whole con- 
 versation, to show him how it was possible for a lady to 
 accept a favor, and yet leave the burden of obligation 
 resting upon the broad shoulders of the poor masculine 
 who had, in one sense, conferred it. 
 
 The day rolled on. Mrs. Darrach, after trudging five 
 miles through the snow, reached Frankford safely, saw 
 Colonel Craig (who had been sent by Washington ex- 
 pressly to pick up information), and trudged back again 
 with her sack of flour, feeling that she had done a life's 
 work in that one day. 
 
 Major Tarleton's sentries, stationed in the garret of a 
 neighboring dwelling, and armed with muskets, had kept 
 a strict watch over Foxey's doings, but had seen no traces 
 of any suspicious movements. As Tarleton himself rode 
 in from the outposts, about 4 o'clock in the afternoon, he
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 157 
 
 saw Foxey standing very unsuspiciously in front of the 
 Pemberton mansion, talking with one of his sable brethren. 
 Stopping his horse, and glancing up at the flag-staff, 
 Tarleton said 
 
 " Why, Foxey, you are not flying any flag to-day?" 
 
 " No, no, Massa Captin Foxey no fly de flag in de 
 snow spile de nice flags, Massa Captin." 
 
 As Tarleton rode on, he heard Foxey say to the other 
 negro 
 
 "I s'pose you go to-night, Sam, wid all de rest of de 
 sogers, hi ! hi ! hi ! " 
 
 " Foxey evidently knows of the movement, and yet his 
 flag even the smallest one is not flying," thought 
 Tarleton. "I must be getting too suspicious. I would 
 have bet fifty pounds to one, that either Foxey or his 
 master, or both, were playing traitor. ' ' 
 
 Shortly after Tarleton had passed, Captain Andr6 
 knocked at the door, and inquired for the ladies. Colo- 
 nel Musgrave had already been there, and taken an affec- 
 tionate parting from his wards for who could tell whether 
 all who should leave the city that night, would return ? 
 With sad faces the two ladies entered the parlor into which 
 Andr6 had been shown, for the parting with their much- 
 loved guardian had deeply affected them. 
 
 " I came to bid you good-bye for a day or two," said 
 Andre, with forced gayety. "We start to-night, to pay 
 General Washington a visit. We design it for a kind of 
 surprise party, you know." 
 
 But his listeners looked more like crying than laughing. 
 
 " Oh, that this awful war were over !" said Isabella, with 
 a deep sigh. 
 
 "None can wish that more heartily than I do," res- 
 ponded Andr<. " But I see no other means of stopping 
 it, than just this kind of one we are now pursuing. One
 
 158 PEMBERTON; 
 
 good beating, and the colonists, I think, would be ready 
 to treat for peace." 
 
 " Good-bye, Captain," said Isabella, rising, and holding 
 out her hand, which Andre pressed warmly within his own 
 " I shall pray God daily and nightly for your safe re- 
 turn. And do be prudent, for the sake of those that love 
 you." 
 
 "Good-bye, my dear Miss Graham; and I know if 
 prayers can aught avail me, I shall return safely from this 
 conflict. Remember me to Mr. Pemberton and his mo- 
 ther, please. I do not care to have too many of these 
 partings they take the soldier out of a man's heart." 
 
 Isabella left the room, discreetly closing the door be- 
 hind her, and Andr6 reseated himself by Helen's side. 
 So far she had said nothing ; but now she flung her arms 
 around his neck, and kissed him repeatedly, saying, be- 
 tween her kisses and her sobbings, 
 
 " Oh, John, I can hardly bear it ! I cannot risk so 
 soon the losing you ! ' ' 
 
 He comforted her as many another soldier had done in 
 similar case before and has done since with embraces, 
 with kisses, with honeyed words, with loving misrepresen- 
 tations of the extent of the danger, with loving assurances 
 of his faith that he should return unscathed all those 
 things which the sincerest man will say in such an hour, 
 to the woman he dearly loves. 
 
 At last she grew more calm, and he ventured to say : 
 
 " I cannot linger, Helen; I have many duties yet to 
 perform. Remember that you are the daughter of a 
 soldier and are to be a soldier's wife." 
 
 The crimson flush spread to her fair forehead at that 
 last word, but it seemed to fill her veins with a more ex- 
 alted life. 
 
 "Forgive me this weakness, sweet! The news came
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 159 
 
 upon me so suddenly to-day. But lam a soldier's daugh- 
 ter and I am strong enough to be a soldier's wife." 
 
 So saying, she sat up erect, and wiped the tears from 
 her cheeks, and looked as her father may have looked 
 perhaps, when he gazed right into the eyes of battle. 
 
 " Now, indeed, you are my own Helen, my proud one, 
 my queen !" exclaimed her lover. "One kiss before I 
 go. Remember, in life or in death, I am yours yours 
 only!" 
 
 " Yes, in life or in death, always mine, as I am always 
 yours always ! always ! ' ' 
 
 They flung their arms around one another for a last em- 
 brace. They pressed their warm, palpitating lips together. 
 They clung heart to heart. Then Andre tore himself from 
 the arms of his mistress, opened the door, and left the 
 house. 
 
 She sprang to the window, caught and returned one 
 last loving glance, and flinging herself down upon the 
 sofa, buried her face in her hands.
 
 l6o PEMBERTON J 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A DARING RAID. 
 
 Rash is no word for such a reckless youth ! 
 And were it not the goddess Fortune loves 
 Those who trust all to her, and guards them well, 
 His body and soul had long since broken troth. 
 
 AT eight o'clock that evening, leaving a small garrison 
 in Philadelphia, the British army marched out to surprise 
 Washington in his fortified camp at Whitemarsh. But 
 their coming was fully expected. Captain McLane met 
 their advance about three miles from the city, and retired 
 before it, disputing the passage at every available spot. 
 
 For three days Sir William Howe tried to find an open- 
 ing where he could successfully make an attack first on 
 the right, then on the left. But Washington would neither 
 show a good opening, nor advance himself into the field. 
 He evidently deemed it his policy not to fight, unless at a 
 great advantage. It was the old Roman story over again : 
 
 "If you are the able general you claim to be," said 
 Howe, "come out from your intrenchments and fight 
 me." 
 
 " And if you are the able general you claim to be," re- 
 plied Washington, " make me come out and fight you." 
 
 After various ineffectual attempts to do the latter, Gen- 
 eral Howe ingloriously marched back to Philadelphia, 
 taking with him forty wagon-loads of wounded men, and 
 a considerable number of cattle. His army, not in the 
 best Of humors, burned and pillaged to no small extent 
 especially on the road the Hessians travelled as they 
 marched. Of course, without orders, as so many things 
 of the kind get done in war, and which makes of war even 
 a more cruel and horrible thing than it necessarily must 
 be. 
 
 It was evening before the rear of the British army
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. l6l 
 
 reached the city. The larger portion resumed their old 
 encampments on the northern outskirts of the town ; but 
 others, including of course the principal officers and their 
 staffs, marched into the heart of the city. 
 
 The citizens generally came out to their doors as they 
 passed, and Mr. Pemberton, with the Misses Graham, imi- 
 tated the general example. All felt gay and joyful, either 
 at the failure of the British movement, or at the safe re- 
 turn of their friends, or for both reasons. Colonel Mus- 
 grave had passed, well splashed with mud, but looking as 
 active as ever, and had pulled up to speak a word of greet- 
 ing to his wards. And then Andre, in like plight, but 
 with his brown face and eyes glowing handsomer than ever 
 in the light which shone from the windows, also had halted 
 to accost the young ladies, and to exchange a loving glance 
 with Helen. 
 
 The ladies still lingered at the door, although thinking 
 that all the military which were coming that way had 
 passed, when another body of horsemen were seen trotting 
 down the street. There seemed to be about twenty or 
 thirty dragoons, for they were equipped like Tarleton's 
 men, and in the rear three or four led saddled but unrid- 
 den horses. 
 
 " I thought at first that was Tarleton," said Pemberton ; 
 "but it is not he. I believe I do not know them, though 
 there is something familiar in the appearance of that second 
 rider." 
 
 As he spoke, the rider in question left the ranks, and 
 spurring up to the side of the street and even inside the 
 posts which then marked the line, instead of curbs tossed 
 a rose to the party in the porch, saying, very plainly, 
 "With my best compliments to Miss Helen." 
 
 "Who is that, Helen?" asked her sister, eagerly, as 
 Pemberton stooped and picked up the rose, evidently
 
 i 62 PEMBERTON; 
 
 plucked from some green-house, or other sheltered nook, 
 for it was too late for out -door roses. 
 
 Helen's face grew white. "I am not certain," said 
 she. " But I fear " here she paused. 
 
 "It cannot be," replied Pemberton, in a low voice; 
 "it would be madness." 
 
 "What are you two whispering about?" inquired Isa- 
 bella. 
 
 " It is cruel in him !" exclaimed Helen. " He has no 
 right to put me to such a test." 
 
 "What do you both mean?" again asked Isabella, in a 
 low but earnest voice, as Pemberton left them, and darted 
 after the troopers, down the street. 
 
 " Sis," said Helen in a whisper, giving a cautious glance 
 around her, to see that she was not in danger of being 
 overheard, "it was Lieutenant Morris! 
 
 " He knows I will not betray him," continued Helen, 
 excitedly, when they were seated again in the parlor; 
 "but he has no right to put me to such a cruel test." 
 
 "Probably you are mistaken, Helen. It may have 
 really been some English officer." 
 
 " What one is there, presumptuous enough to fling me a 
 rose thus publicly?" said Helen. "None but a rebel 
 would venture to do so especially on so short an acquaint- 
 ance. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, he is but a mere boy," replied Isabella, "and 
 probably a little demented, since his wound. Do you not 
 think so ? I see him now, kissing your hand the other 
 day" and she laughed. 
 
 "Bella, I think you speak rather unkindly, considering 
 that Mr. Morris, if he is but a mere boy, did us such a 
 great service," exclaimed Helen, with flashing eyes. 
 "And, for my part, I saw nothing the least ridiculous in 
 what he did at Mr. Livezey's. He felt embarrassed,
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 163 
 
 doubtless, and it was rather awkward all round but re- 
 member he thinks that I saved his life." 
 
 " Oh, I have no doubt that he is a very fine young fel- 
 low," rejoined her sister, not very consistently, but very 
 sagaciously ; ' ' and I only wish that Arthur would come 
 back, and let us know what it all means. Perhaps he has 
 been converted, repented of his sins, and turned Tory." 
 
 " I wish he may get safely out of the city without 
 doing any mischief," said Helen. 
 
 After waiting with only a moderate degree of patience 
 for about two hours, Pemberton returned. 
 
 " Was it he? " cried Helen. 
 
 "What does it all mean?" said Isabella. 
 
 " Did he get off safely? " added Helen. 
 
 " Did you hear anything about it? do speak, Arthur!" 
 exclaimed Isabella. 
 
 Arthur behaved as most men do, when met by a volley 
 of excited questions took his time to answer them. It 
 is a failing which few, even of the noblest and best of 
 their sex, are superior to. Adam doubtless thus plagued 
 Eve. 
 
 " Ladies, if you will allow me just one moment in which 
 to breathe, and collect my scattered thoughts, I will an- 
 swer all your questions seriatim." 
 
 They waited, not patiently, but expectantly. 
 
 "It was he. It all means mischief. He did get off 
 safely. And I did hear something about it. Any more 
 questions ? ' ' 
 
 Helen raised her hand to box his ears. Isabella posed 
 her graceful form before him 
 
 " Mr. Arthur Pemberton, will you be kind enough to 
 tell us what we want to know, without further delay, cir- 
 cumlocution, or needless aggravation? " 
 
 Pemberton smiled. " It was McLane and a party of
 
 164 PEMBERTON; 
 
 his men, disguised as British troopers. They came in on 
 the rear of the British. When they passed here, they con- 
 tinued on down Chestnut to Second turning down 
 Second. The Adjutant-General had just dismounted and 
 entered his house with his papers before they came up. 
 Good luck for him. On Second Street bridge they over- 
 took Captain Sandford on horseback, and carried him off 
 with them. They then turned up Walnut Street, and on 
 the bridge there, captured Varnum, one of Cunningham's 
 jail-keepers. Going out Walnut Street they just missed 
 Sir William Howe and several colonels. They then 
 pushed out to the Ridge Road, dashed boldly past the 
 block house, where the guards, seeing their uniforms, sup- 
 posed it was all right, and so on, I infer, to the wilds of 
 the Wissahickon. Tarleton will probably know about 
 that for he is after them in hot indignation. But as 
 they have full fifteen minutes start, I guess, as our Yankee 
 friends say, he will only see the tails of their horses. ' ' 
 
 " I hope he catches them," exclaimed Helen. " It was 
 a great piece of impertinence. And I wish you would in- 
 form Mr. Morris the next time you have a chance, that I 
 consider his conduct very audacious. He ought to know 
 that I am loyal to the heart's core, and have no sympathy 
 with rebels." 
 
 " I think myself it was a very silly piece of business to 
 fling you that rose," said Pemberton, pointing to the rose, 
 which was a very pretty one half blown and a deep red 
 and which Helen had placed, perhaps unconsciously, in 
 her bosom. 
 
 " I do not see anything particularly silly in it," replied 
 Helen. "I think it was audacious and reckless." 
 
 " Helen is very hard to please where Lieutenant Morris 
 is concerned," said Isabella, a little slyly. 
 
 "Bella, you know better. I think Mr. Morris very
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 165 
 
 much to blame indeed very reckless and audacious but 
 I do not like to hear one who has done me, and all of us, 
 so much service, ridiculed and called silly." 
 
 "I said his action was silly not himself," rejoined 
 Pemberton. 
 
 "It is the same thing," replied Helen, as she left the 
 room, not caring apparently to have the matter discussed 
 further. 
 
 When she came to disrobe in her chamber that even- 
 ing, she opened a little casket in which she kept, under 
 lock and key, her most precious souvenirs of love and 
 friendship, and put Philip's rose among them. 
 
 Was Helen rather inconsistent ? You may think so 
 but it is because you do not look upon her from the right 
 point of view. Her actions and words might appear in- 
 consistent with each other, but they were not inconsistent 
 with herself. For she who acts and speaks naturally 
 and impulsively, must, perforce, upon a subtle cord of 
 harmony, as on a fine gold thread, string all her apparent 
 inconsistencies of word and action.
 
 1 66 PEMBERTON; 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HAIL TO THE CHIEF. 
 
 Oh 1 a soldier's life for me, 
 With its strife and its jollity 
 
 A banquet to-night, 
 
 To-morrow a fight, 
 And the shouts of victory. 
 
 THE Philadelphia of the olden time was never more gay 
 than during the winter and spring of the British occupa- 
 tion. Whether because it was useless to undertake great 
 movements in the field, on account of the severe cold of 
 the winter and the deep mud of the spring, or owing to 
 the natural love of ease and pleasure of the British com- 
 mander, his officers had full time and liberty allowed them 
 to amuse themselves in all those ways which come natural 
 to the youthful and pleasure-seeking mind. Theatricals, 
 balls and parties, with less innocent gaming, revelling, 
 and other dissipations, were their constant occupations ; 
 and they went at them with the same amount of energy 
 and spirit which they would have thrown into a campaign. 
 Although many ladies belonging to the prominent Whig 
 families had left the city, a large number remained, and 
 those among the wealthiest and most refined classes of 
 society. Unless the traditions and testimonies that have 
 come down to us are to be entirely disbelieved, these 
 ladies constituted the most brilliant circle in the country. 
 They prided themselves not so much on their beauty 
 though, if we may credit the French officers, they were 
 the most beautiful women in America as on their spright- 
 liness and their conversational ability. The ladies of New 
 York, they alleged, had invariably to call in the aid of 
 cards to entertain their visitors ; but they depended upon
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 167 
 
 more intellectual means of amusing and delighting their 
 guests. 
 
 Thus in a constant round of amusement and gayety, the 
 British officers passed their time, until it was announced, 
 in the spring, that Sir William Howe was to be superseded 
 by Sir Henry Clinton. It might be that this implied a 
 reproof of their winter's idleness; but, whether it did or 
 not, they loved their commander, they had had a glorious 
 time, and they resolved to top off their sport with a dis- 
 play of the grandest and most appropriate character. 
 
 So they determined upon the Mischianza a medley, as 
 the Italian signifies in honor of their departing Chief, 
 and worthy of him, the ladies and themselves. 
 
 Captain Andre and the Misses Graham had taken their 
 full share in the season's festivities ; and as he sat with 
 them one pleasant evening in May, explaining the com- 
 pleteness and novelty of the intended pageant, Isabella 
 turned to him and inquired, in an amused voice : 
 
 " And which are you to be, Andre, a Knight of the 
 Blended Rose, or of the Burning Mountain?" 
 
 " I have been chosen as a Knight of the Blended Rose," 
 replied Andre, with assumed dignity. 
 
 "And your brother, the Lieutenant? " 
 
 " Oh, he is to be my Squire." 
 
 "And your lady? " 
 
 " That is just what I am here to ask," said he, turning 
 to Helen. 
 
 "What are your ladies to wear?" inquired Helen, 
 archly. 
 
 Pemberton, who had just come in, and stood listening, 
 laughed outright. 
 
 " Isn't that a woman all over? ' Will you marry me? ' 
 said the gentleman. ' What kind of a wedding-dress can
 
 1 68 PEMBERTON; 
 
 I wear ? ' said the lady. ' I will not be married at all, if 
 the color does not suit my complexion. ' ' ' 
 
 "A very sensible woman, I think," commented Helen. 
 " My case, exactly. What are your ladies to wear, Cap- 
 tain Andre ? ' ' 
 
 "I'll read it to you it's all set down," said Andre, 
 pulling a paper from his pocket 
 
 "'THE LADIES OF THE. BLENDED ROSE. 
 " 'A polonaise, or flowing robe of white silk, with a 
 spangled pink sash, and spangled shoes and stockings ; a 
 veil spangled and trimmed with silver lace, and a tower- 
 ing headdress of pearls and jewels. ' ' ' 
 
 "I hate spangles," said Helen, "they make one look 
 like a circus-woman. I hate a towering headdress, it makes 
 my head ache. Get one of the Misses Shippen, that one 
 who doats on you." 
 
 "All engaged," replied Andr, smiling. 
 
 "You should have spoken sooner then. Well, there is 
 pretty Miss Redman ; she will have you as her knight, or 
 all signs fail." 
 
 " Captain Horneck has secured her sweet ladyship." 
 
 "Well, there is Peggy Chew; have you tried her 
 also?" 
 
 Andr laughed. 
 
 " You know, Miss Helen, that I have not tried, as you 
 call it, anybody. In fact, such was my presumption, that 
 I confidently counted upon you. ' ' 
 
 " You were very presumptuous indeed. Spangles, and 
 a towering head-dress ! No, no, I shall not make a bar- 
 barian of myself, even if the Mischianza has to be given 
 up." 
 
 "That is foolish, Helen," interposed Isabella; "what 
 serious objection can you possibly have to the costume ?
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 1 69 
 
 I think it will be very pretty. Do you know what the rival 
 ladies are to wear, Andre ?' ' 
 
 "The same, I believe, except that their white polonaises 
 are to be bound with black, and their sashes are to be 
 black instead of pink. ' ' 
 
 " Horrible !" exclaimed Helen ; "I would not be one 
 of their Knights for the world." 
 
 " Well, what am I to do?" said Andre, ruefully. 
 
 "Equip yourself as the Knight of the Sorrowful Coun- 
 tenance, and go without a dame," replied Isabella, laughing. 
 
 "And, Helen, you are in earnest, you do not really 
 wish to be one of the Queens of the Fe"te?" said Andr6 
 earnestly. 
 
 "I do not, John." 
 
 " Who then shall I choose ?" 
 
 " The very prettiest girl you can find. I shall not be 
 jealous," she added, in a whisper. 
 
 "You suggested Peggy Chew; shall it be she?" 
 
 'Yes, a pretty girl, and nice too. If she will accept." 
 
 "Of course," said Andre. 
 
 "Of course she will, and be glad of it," said Helen, 
 confidently. 
 
 " Do not make Captain Andr6 anymore conceited than 
 he is," cried Isabella. 
 
 Andre smiled. "I did not ask you, Miss Isabella. 
 You are jealous. Will not you be my beautiful queen of 
 hearts?" 
 
 " Not at this late hour ; after, how many refusals is it ? 
 No, I am engaged to go among the undistinguished crowd. 
 We shall be there, and see how you conduct yourself, 
 Knight of the Burning Rose. ' ' 
 
 " Awful ! Blended Rose, not Burning Rose. Burning 
 Mountain ! ' ' exclaimed Andre, holding up both hands in 
 affected dismay.
 
 1 70 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " Go and engage Peggy Chew at once, or she will be 
 snapped up also by some other unfortunate Knight," said 
 Helen. 
 
 "Why would you not serve as Andre's lady ?" asked 
 Isabella, after they had retired that evening. 
 
 " What ! and set the whole town to talking ? They talk 
 enough about Captain Andre and myself as it is. Let 
 him wait on Peggy Chew on such a great occasion as this, 
 and it will close their lips for the next month or two." 
 
 " You are a very wise little girl, with all your wilfulness, 
 sister mine," said Bella, kissing her, and folding her arms 
 around her. " Sweet, how I love you!" 
 
 " Bella, my darling, my precious, I would die for you !" 
 exclaimed Helen, returning her embrace. "These men 
 are going different paths, and we must go with them, but 
 they shall never part these hearts of ours, shall they, Bella, 
 my beautiful, my queenly one?" 
 
 " Never, never, never, my beloved, my Peri, my Prin- 
 cess !" cried Bella, returning her passionate kisses and 
 embraces. " Come what may come, their principles and 
 duties and ambitions shall never separate these sister hearts 
 of ours ! ' ' 
 
 And they lay down to sleep folded in each other's arms.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE MISCHIANZA. 
 
 Bright was the scene when to the music gay 
 Of trump and cymbal swept the fleet away ; 
 Down Delaware's proud breast the gorgeous show, 
 While cannon thundered, moved sublime and slow; 
 Flags flew, men shouted, and the ladies smiled, 
 And with gay sunbeams glad waves wantoned wild. 
 
 OH for a pen made from a peacock's plume, whose green 
 aud golden glories might gleam before my eyes, and dazzle 
 all my brain, the while I paint in too brief phrase the 
 splendors of the Mischianza ! 
 
 For the Mischianza was undoubtedly, and beyond all 
 compare, the finest and most artistic entertainment in the 
 way of a festivity, that ever delighted the eyes of beautiful 
 women and brave men in this prosaic American world. 
 
 Philadelphia has had, Boston and New York and Balti- 
 more and all our sister cities have had entertainments, in 
 which it was sought to embody praise and honor of distin- 
 guished men great generals, great statesmen, great ar- 
 tists. But what have they all amounted to ? a feed ; or, 
 at best, a feed and a dance ; at which wretched and vulgar 
 taste competed with wretched and vulgar ostentation and 
 profusion for the mastery. But the Mischianza was the 
 conception of a nobly-gifted and cultivated soul one not 
 too old to lament that the days of chivalry were passed, 
 and which was filled with the high-bred refinement of a 
 true cavalier. And in all its principal features was seen 
 the glowing, sportive mind, as in the chief adornments 
 the ready, artistic hand of John Andr6. 
 
 It is not our intention to fatigue our readers with a 
 full description of this pageant. That work is already
 
 172 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 done. But we cannot well avoid a few brief words of out- 
 line. 
 
 The Mischianza commenced with a regatta. The British 
 fleet lay in a long line the whole length of the city, decked 
 with gay flags, while the vessels of war thundered at ap- 
 propriate occasions. The flotilla was composed of three 
 galleys, and thirty large flat boats, the latter covered with 
 green cloth, and filled with the ladies and gentlemen of 
 the city, the invited guests. The galleys were reserved 
 for the principal Generals and their suites, accompanied 
 by the most distinguished ladies. 
 
 Starting about four in the afternoon from the northern 
 end of the city, the festive squadron floated slowly down, 
 the rowers keeping time to the music, until it reached the 
 southern limit, just below the Old Fort. The houses along 
 the river, the wharves, and the line of transports in the 
 stream, were crowded with admiring spectators. 
 
 Arrived at the Old Fort, opposite the then handsome 
 Wharton mansion, the gay company landed, and forming 
 themselves into a procession, marched up through lines of 
 grenadiers and horsemen, to the grassy square prepared for 
 the tournament. Here were two triumphal arches, with 
 pavilions ; and under the pavilions ranges of rising seats. 
 The company then took their places the ladies of the 
 Knights of the Blended Rose and of the Burning Moun- 
 tain occupying the front seats in each pavilion. 
 
 To the sound of distant trumpets rode in two bands of 
 Knights one dressed in ancient habits of white and red 
 silk, on gray horses ; the other in black and orange, their 
 horses jet black. The first were the White Knights of the 
 Blended Rose ; the others the Black Knights of the Burn- 
 ing Mountain. 
 
 The customary challenges interchanged the subject of 
 dispute being the superior " wit, beauty and accomplish-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 173 
 
 ments ' ' of their respective bands of ladies the Knights, 
 riding around the lists, made their obeisance to their 
 Dames. Then, after receiving their shields and lances 
 from their respective Squires, they encountered in full 
 career their line of adversaries, and shivered their spears. 
 In a second and third encounter they discharged their 
 pistols ; and, in a fourth, fought with their clashing swords. 
 
 At length, the two chiefs Lord Cathcart and Captain 
 Watson of the Guards spurring forward in the centre, en- 
 gaged furiously in single combat until the Marshal of the 
 Field, rushing between them in the name of the Ladies, 
 declared that the Fair Damsels of both bands were per- 
 fectly satisfied with these proofs of the devotion of their 
 respective Knights, and commanded them to desist from 
 further combat. 
 
 Then the Knights dismounted, and, with their respective 
 Ladies by their sides, headed the procession of the whole 
 company, as they passed under the triumphal arches, and be- 
 tween lines of troops, brilliant with gay colors and stream- 
 ing flags, into the garden of the Mansion. Thence, 
 ascending a flight of steps, they came into a spacious hall, 
 with its panels painted in imitation of Sienna marble. 
 Here they were served with refreshments. 
 
 From this apartment, after a little while, they passed up 
 to a ball-room, with four drawing-rooms, and all painted 
 in pale-blue and rose-pink. Eighty-five mirrors and a 
 large number of wax-lights here lent enchantment to the 
 scene. 
 
 The dances the stately minuet and the cheerful contra- 
 dance, for the quadrille and waltz had not yet come in 
 continued until ten o'clock, when the doors and windows 
 were thrown open, and a magnificent display of fireworks 
 diversified the entertainment, bouquets of rockets, burst- 
 ing balloons, Chinese fountains, arches illuminated with
 
 174 FEMBERTON; 
 
 rainbow-colored flames, and Fame, spangled with stars, 
 and blowing from her trumpet the words of light, Tes 
 Lauriers sont Immortels. 
 
 At twelve, large folding doors, hitherto artfully con- 
 cealed, were suddenly flung wide, and a magnificent saloon, 
 two hundred feet long, and twenty in height, and adorned 
 with fifty large pier-glasses, disclosed to view. A burst of 
 surprise and admiration broke forth from the assembled 
 guests. All was so new, so fresh and artistic, nothing old 
 and stale and common-place. Here were the supper-ta- 
 bles, lighted by innumerable wax-lights and lustres, and 
 laden with all the delicacies that could be procured. 
 Twenty-four black slaves, in Oriental dresses, with silver 
 collars and bracelets, ranged in two lines, stood with 
 bowed heads as General Howe and his brother, the Admi- 
 ral, led the brilliant company into the saloon. 
 
 Supper over, the guests began to depart; though the 
 dancing was kept up until four o'clock in the morning. 
 
 Nought occurred to interrupt the festivities. An attack 
 planned by Captain McLane upon the British line of de- 
 fences, and which was answered by alarm guns from river 
 to river, was represented by the officers to be only a por- 
 tion of the evening's entertainment. And so the dance 
 went joyfully on. It was a fete of fe"tes. And though 
 some may censure the spirit that can thus indulge in gayety 
 and festivity in the midst of war, it must be remembered 
 that the indulgence of strong feeling in any one direction, 
 naturally induces a corresponding indulgence after a time 
 in the direction immediately opposite. It is the effort of 
 nature to maintain the healthy balance and equilibrium of 
 the mind, in other words, to preserve its sanity. This is 
 one great good of amusements and festivities in the usual 
 times of peace, and much less can they be dispensed with 
 in war, unless you mean to allow the necessary and per-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 175 
 
 haps righteous indignation against the enemy, to sink into 
 a bitter rancour, which shall find vent in acts of unneces- 
 sary cruelty and vindictiveness, unworthy of a Christian 
 people, m any cause however just, and toward any foe 
 however barbarous.
 
 176 PEMBERTON; 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN UNINVITED GUEST. 
 
 He was enamored. Ere he touched her hand 
 
 His senses reeled within him, as when first 
 
 Columbus, gazing, sighted a new world. 
 
 She was his Indies, his America, 
 
 His missing continent, for want of which 
 
 His sphere imperfect was, and lacked the sense 
 
 Of fullness and completeness. 
 
 WE need hardly say that both the Misses Graham were 
 delighted participants in the festivities of the Mischianza. 
 Pemberton escorted them. Devoted Whig as he was, he 
 prided himself upon being neither a fanatic nor a bigot. 
 He could oppose the success of the British arms with all 
 his might, and yet not have an unkind feeling personally 
 toward a single British officer. So far as he knew them 
 to be, like Colonel Musgrave, Andre, and many others, 
 noble and generous men, just as sincere in their political 
 views as he was in his, he admired and respected them. 
 
 As to Sir William Howe, had it not been for his keep- 
 ing Captain Cunningham in his position of Provost, he 
 would have thought very highly of him. By his own offi- 
 cers and men he was evidently sincerely beloved, and this 
 was greatly in his favor. Pemberton also was sorry to hear 
 of his removal as Commander-in-Chief. He felt a little 
 as Hamilton afterwards did, when Washington communi- 
 cated to him a plan to capture Sir Henry Clinton. "I 
 am opposed. to it," said Hamilton. "We know exactly 
 .what Sir Henry is, and what he will be likely to do. We 
 might easily have a worse man for us in his place." 
 And the plan was given up. 
 
 Sir William's inactivity through the winter certainly was 
 not calculated to make any far-seeing friend of the Colo-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AG'O. 177 
 
 nial cause anxious to have another and, it might be, more 
 active man, put in his place. The new broom might 
 sweep cleaner. 
 
 So Pemberton attended the Mischianza, and enjoyed it 
 as much as a person with his artistic perceptions and love 
 of the beautiful would naturally do. Such a sight, en- 
 livened by such crowds of gayly-dressed officers and beau- 
 tiful women, surely never had been seen in America. 
 
 Andr6 was engaged the greater part of the time with 
 his chosen lady for the occasion, Miss Chew ; and the two 
 soon became the centre of a gay and brilliant circle. The 
 Misses Graham and Pemberton were not of the number 
 however for Helen seemed determined that evening to 
 let people see that there was nothing between the Captain 
 and herself. She was one of those that hated the shrugs 
 and whispers of a gossipping crowd. It did not suit to 
 have the betrothal declared openly so she preferred that 
 it should not be surmised. 
 
 The three had strolled out upon the lawn to see the 
 fireworks, and as these concluded in a blaze of starry 
 rockets, Helen wandered off alone a little way to one side, 
 into a summer-house, and sat down, gazing back upon the 
 fairy scene. 
 
 " Good-evening, Miss Helen," said a manly voice; and 
 turning, she saw a gentleman who evidently had come up 
 from the opposite direction. " I thought I should never 
 have an opportunity of speaking to you." 
 
 He was apparently rather an elderly man, dressed in a 
 handsome brown suit, and there was something familiar in 
 the tones of his voice, and the glances of his eye. But 
 that light, long hair certainly she did not know him. 
 
 " You have the advantage of me, sir, I am not able to 
 recollect you," said Helen, slightly embarrassed.
 
 I 78 PEMBERTON J 
 
 "I should know you, anywhere, in any masquerade," 
 replied the stranger, in a low but impressive voice. 
 
 Helen's heart throbbed tumultuously. Could it be pos- 
 sible ? She bent her eyes earnestly upon the face of the 
 speaker, lit up by the light which shone even at that dis- 
 tance from the ball-room. 
 
 "Philip Morris! It cannot be you!" she said in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " Yes, but it is. We have no such fun as this at Valley 
 Forge, I can assure you. It is worth coming to see. I 
 never thought to see Fairy land come down in this fashion 
 on old Philadelphia." 
 
 " But the risk the awful risk !" 
 
 "Not much more than a battle. Besides," continued 
 he in a passionate tone, " I have not set my eyes on you 
 since that evening I tossed you the rose in Pemberton's 
 porch, nearly six months now. I would rather die than 
 never see you!" 
 
 "This is madness!" exclaimed Helen. "You are a 
 rebel, I am an English soldier's daughter, and true to the 
 red cross as steel." 
 
 "I care not. I love you." 
 
 " I can never love you !" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You have no right to ask me. It is sufficient to say 
 that I cannot return your love." 
 
 "Then I do not care much what becomes of me after 
 this night. They are going in to supper, I see. May I 
 wait on you for this one time ? Captain Andr6, I per- 
 ceive, is devoted elsewhere." 
 
 "You are insane. They will certainly discover you. " 
 
 " Not for an hour or two. And I care not now what 
 becomes of me. I wish I had half-a-dozen of our men
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 1 79 
 
 here, and I'd carry off old Howe right from the midst of 
 his adoring red -coats." 
 
 " Such a threat is as treasonable for me to hear as for 
 you to utter. Do you not know that if I did my duty, I 
 should immediately summon assistance and have you ar- 
 rested?" 
 
 " Do so. Next to living by you, it would be sweet to 
 die by you. Chatelard never went to the grave, dug by 
 the hands of the queen he madly worshipped, more wil- 
 lingly than I should go to one dug by you." 
 
 " Mr. Morris, you will drive me to frenzy. You say you 
 love me " 
 
 " Madly devotedly ! " 
 
 "Then how can you give me such keen pain? You 
 must know that I should never forgive myself, if your life 
 were the cost of this reckless passion. You say you love 
 me, why then do you not do as I wish ? " 
 
 "What is your wish? " 
 
 " That you should leave this place, and this city, im- 
 mediately, and by the way you came." 
 
 "I cannot leave the city to-night. Do you not hear 
 the pother that McLane has stirred up ? he has set fire to 
 about a mile of the British abattis." 
 
 " We were told that the cannonade was but a part of 
 the programme." 
 
 "Pretty good for the managers of the fte. McLane 
 will not like that. He thought to break up the whole 
 affair. But you see I have more courtesy, and, even though 
 uninvited, stepped in to enjoy the party." 
 
 " Please now go ! Stay : wait a moment. Here comes 
 Mr. Pemberton. Heavens I fear it is Major Tarleton." 
 
 " I was sent by Mr. Pemberton to bring you in to sup- 
 per, Miss Helen," said Major Tarleton, for he it was, be- 
 ginning to speak before he reached the summer-house.
 
 l8o PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " He told me you had strolled off by yourself for a few 
 moments. Ah, beg pardon, I thought you were alone. ' ' 
 
 "Allow me to introduce you, gentlemen Mr. Wharton, 
 Major Tarleton " the gentlemen bowed. 
 
 Tarleton cast a quick glance from his keen black eyes 
 upon Philip's face. " I do not remember to have met you 
 before, Mr. Wharton, and yet your face does not look 
 altogether strange to me." 
 
 " Probably we have met at some of our mutual friends," 
 replied Philip composedly. " I am almost certain also 
 that I have met you," he added, with a touch of that reck- 
 less humor which not even the greatest peril could entirely 
 restrain. 
 
 "And your voice, too, sounds familiar," rejoined Tar- 
 leton. "I pride myself on never forgetting a face or a 
 voice, Miss Helen." 
 
 "And yet you will have to own up that you fail this 
 time," replied Morris, laughing. 
 
 " Not yet. Give me half an hour to ransack my mem- 
 ory a little, and I warrant I tell you just when and where 
 we met." 
 
 "I'll treat you to a bottle of wine if you do," replied 
 Philip. 
 
 During this discussion, Helen could almost have fainted, 
 if fainting would have done any good, and she had been 
 of the fainting kind. To hear Morris thus coolly joking 
 upon a point which involved his life, was as if she were 
 seeing him play with the trigger of a pistol whose muzzle 
 was against his forehead. It almost sickened her. Re- 
 covering herself, she said 
 
 " Perhaps, Major Tarleton, you had better tell my sis- 
 ter that I am all safe, and that we will be there in a few 
 minutes. Thanks for your kindness in coming to seek 
 me."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. l8l 
 
 This was too broad a hint for Tarleton to delay a mo- 
 ment. But as he turned, he shot another sharp glance at 
 Morris from beneath his bushy eyebrows, and then a quick 
 gleam of intelligence passed across his dark, swarthy face, 
 not unnoticed by Helen. 
 
 "Tarleton suspects you. I saw it in his face. You 
 must not stay in this place a minute longer. Go ! ' ' 
 " Give me a flower out of your bouquet ?" 
 " Here is a cluster of violets. I beg of you to go !" 
 "Violets! Give me that spring rose out of your 
 bosom. That I can live on awhile." 
 
 Helen tore the rose from its fastenings. "Here. 
 Go!" 
 
 He took the rose, first covering the hand which ex- 
 tended it with kisses. "Farewell, most fascinating and 
 glorious of women ! You are in yourself more splendid 
 than the Mischianza to me. ' ' 
 
 As he left the back door of the summer-house, Helen 
 sank down upon the bench from which she had risen in 
 her excitement. " I must not go in yet ; every minute is 
 again," thought she. "Cruel, cruel boy, to tear my 
 heart so, and call it love ! Poor fellow, I wish he did not 
 love me. If this comes from saving a man's life, I am 
 sure I'll never try to do it again. I wonder what Andr6 
 would say, could he have seen that stormy shower of kisses? 
 Just as well he did not. Though John is not easily jealous. 
 And he knows I love him as foolishly and wildly as as 
 Philip Morris loves me." 
 
 After waiting some minutes longer, Helen walked to the 
 house. 
 
 The first person she met was Major Tarleton. " Where 
 is Mr. Wharton?" he said, with a suspicious look in his 
 eyes, and making an almost involuntary step toward the 
 door.
 
 1 82 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " Oh, I left him outside. Major, if you will give me 
 your arm, and conduct me to my sister, I shall be greatly 
 obliged to you. I shall never reach her by myself in this 
 crowd." 
 
 Tarleton was mollified. He had the greatest admira- 
 tion for Helen, not only because she was a belle, and ad- 
 mired by other men, but because her gay and dashing 
 spirit embodied his very highest ideal of what was beauti- 
 ful and charming in a woman. Still he did not altogether 
 forget his suspicions, saying as they made their way 
 through the rooms 
 
 " I know, Miss Helen, who that Mr. Wharton reminded 
 me of an old Quaker preacher from the country, whom I 
 once met at Mr. Pemberton's." 
 
 "Probably his father or grandfather," said Helen. 
 "Bella, has not Mr. Richard Wharton a father, or grand- 
 father, who is a Quaker preacher, and lives out at a place 
 they call Gwynedd?" 
 
 "Yes," replied Bella. But she could not say, for she 
 did not know, that the Mr. Richard Wharton she had in 
 her mind was a very different person from the gentleman 
 of whom Major Tarleton was thinking. In fact, when 
 Helen had been compelled to improvise a name so quickly 
 for Lieutenant Morris, she had used that of this Mr. 
 Wharton, because he certainly did look something like 
 the disguised officer, inasmuch as he also had long sandy 
 hair. 
 
 "A little too suspicious again," thought Tarleton to 
 himself. "I really had a notion of looking into that 
 Wharton's identity. I suppose he is off in one of the 
 drinking-rooms. ' ' 
 
 "What kept you so long, Helen?" questioned Isa- 
 bella. 
 
 "Oh, that Mr. Wharton dropped down upon me Mr.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 183 
 
 Richard Wharton is old enough to be my father, Major 
 and we had a long talk about this, that and the other." 
 
 " I declare, Helen, if you are not the strangest girl. I 
 should not have thought you would care to talk five min- 
 utes with Mr. Wharton. ' ' 
 
 Helen laughed. It was one of her most peculiar charms 
 a ringing, silvery laugh which made people always 
 stop their conversation to listen. About once in your life- 
 time, if you are fortunate, you meet a woman with that 
 silvery, musical laughter. It is a gift and certainly one 
 of the very rarest. 
 
 Helen laughed. " I know it, Sis. I am a strange girl. 
 I astonish myself sometimes. Even Major Tarleton was 
 astonished to-night, as he came up and found me convers- 
 ing with Mr. Wharton. How blank you looked, Major. 
 You evidently thought you were interrupting a tete-a-tete, 
 a love affair and with Mr. Wharton ! ' ' and Helen laughed 
 again, as if it were the most ridiculous idea in the 
 world. 
 
 Helen would soon have lost that silvery laugh, had she 
 often used it thus in insincerity, and as a blind. But 
 certainly she was in no small degree justified in doing it 
 on this occasion. She was afraid that Major Tarleton 
 might talk speak of her interview with Mr. Wharton as a 
 concealed and mysterious thing ; and so she chose to make 
 no secret of it, and place the whole affair in a ridiculous 
 light. 
 
 When Helen got a chance in the pauses of the dance, 
 an hour or so afterward, she strolled again upon the lawn 
 with Pemberton. 
 
 When well out of hearing of the crowd, she said : 
 
 " Arthur, do you know who that Mr. Wharton really 
 was?" 
 
 "Why, Mr. Richard Wharton, of course. Though what
 
 184 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 a gentleman of his serious tastes is doing here, puzzles me, 
 I confess." 
 
 "It was that rebel cousin of yours, Lieutenant Morris," 
 said Helen in a whisper. 
 
 " I hope not, he would hardly do such a reckless thing. 
 You are certainly mistaken, Helen." 
 
 " I talked with him in that summer-house for at least fif- 
 teen minutes by the watch, though it seemed to me an 
 age," replied Helen. 
 
 "Phil must be crazy. What could he have come here 
 for?" 
 
 "He said to see the Mischianza and me." 
 
 "The reckless, hot-headed fellow! He will do these 
 daring, imprudent things some day once too often, and 
 then perish ingloriously. He tries my patience beyond 
 measure," returned Pemberton in a low but excited tone. 
 
 "I wish you would say to him, Arthur you are his 
 cousin and warm friend, you know that the admiration 
 he insists on forcing upon me, is not only entirely unre- 
 ciprocated, but very annoying," said Helen with emotion. 
 
 "I have told him as much already; but Phil, though a 
 splendid fellow, is obstinate in certain things beyond all 
 description. He seems to me to have the obstinacy of a 
 whole generation of Morrises concentrated in his single 
 person. Why don't you dash him with cold water your- 
 self? all women understand how to do that, and none 
 more than you, Helen." 
 
 "I have done so but it only makes him foolish and 
 desperate. He is but a boy, you know." 
 
 "Yes, a mere boy just about a year older than you, 
 Helen," replied Pemberton, smiling. 
 
 "But I am a woman, and that makes a great deal of 
 difference. I am sure I feel a great deal older. It is pre- 
 sumptuous in him even to think of me in that light."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 185 
 
 " I don't exactly see that, though. In five years he will 
 be, say five years older, and you will be just what you are 
 now, of course ; for a lady never grows any older until she 
 is married." 
 
 "It is too grave a subject to make a jest of, Arthur. 
 You know my position with Captain Andre. ' ' 
 
 Pemberton had in him a vein of the same reckless humor 
 that distinguished his cousin. " Suppose you ship Andre 
 he would not be so hard to get rid of," said he, in a 
 serious tone. 
 
 Helen took her hand from his arm. " Of course you 
 mean that as a joke, Arthur ; but I beg of you, as you re- 
 spect me, never to jest in that way again. I love John 
 Andre more than a thousand Philip Morrises more than 
 life itself." Helen's eyes shone and her voice trembled 
 with the intensity of her emotion. 
 
 "There is no doubt that he will get safely off?" 
 added she, after a pause, for Pemberton had made no 
 reply. 
 
 "I think not. Our English friends like good eating, 
 and to have good eating they must encourage the farmers 
 around to come into the city. Phil, doubtless, came in 
 driving a farmer's wagon, and will go out driving one. 
 But take care you do not say anything of this to Captain 
 Andre. ' ' 
 
 "Arthur! " There were a host of meanings conveyed 
 in the mode this one word was uttered. It said mainly 
 however " How meanly you must think of me?" 
 
 "I would not betray Mr. Morris to save my life," she 
 added, indignantly. 
 
 It was a little perverse in Pemberton, perhaps, but he 
 replied ' ' And yet it was only yesterday that you justi- 
 fied the hanging of young Hale, and every other rebel 
 spy."
 
 1 86 PEMBERTON J 
 
 " Oh, that was only a general assertion. If a spy were 
 to flee into my dwelling for safety, I would conceal him 
 if I could, though my own father or husband were on his 
 track. You know I would." 
 
 "I believe you would, Helen," rejoined Pemberton; 
 "you, or Isabella either. You are two dear, delightful, 
 splendid, charmingly inconsistent women." 
 
 "Consistency! I hate the very name of it !" replied 
 Helen. " I never made so many blunders in my life, as 
 once when I tried, after hearing your famous Dr. Duche, 
 to be consistent for a whole week. Since then, I always 
 act as my heart dictates, and have no trouble, and am " 
 
 "A very bewitching woman !" added Pemberton, in- 
 terrupting her. 
 
 " Nonsense, Arthur keep all those fine speeches for 
 Bel. And here she comes, to learn what you mean by 
 your long absence. ' ' 
 
 When Isabella came up with Andr6, at Pemberton 's 
 suggestion they changed partners, for he well knew that 
 Andr, who had scarcely spoken a word with Helen, was 
 anxious to be with her for a little while before the evening 
 closed. 
 
 As they strayed from the others, down a garden walk, 
 Andre said 
 
 " Have I not been good, Helen ? I have talked and 
 danced and flirted with a host of belles this evening with 
 the Misses Chew, and Miss Vining, and the Franks, and 
 the Shippens, and that beautiful, just rising evening star, 
 Miss Willing and all the time longing to be at your side, 
 my sweet, I think I deserve quite a reward for my self- 
 control and self-sacrifice." 
 
 At this moment they were passing behind some tall 
 evergreens, forming a perfect shelter from curious eyes.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 187 
 
 Helen stopped a moment, and turned up her face. " Kiss 
 me, John." 
 
 " There, three kisses are enough," continued she, blush- 
 ing and walking on. " We will walk together here just 
 five minutes longer. You have been very good, and 
 stopped the mouths of all the old women male and 
 female for at least a month. But you must not undo the 
 good work." 
 
 "I do not care what the people say, Helen," exclaimed 
 Andre, impetuously. " Let them talk : what of it ?" 
 
 "I hate to be talked about," replied Helen. "Come 
 and see me to-morrow, if you can. Do you not think it 
 was a sacrifice also to me, to have you talking and dancing 
 with the very prettiest girls in Philadelphia, just as if I 
 were nothing to you?" 
 
 "You know you are all the world to me," said Andr6, 
 passionately. 
 
 "Am I, sweet?" 
 
 " Put all the world on one side, and you on the other, 
 and I would abandon all for you." 
 
 "I would do more than that for you, John. People 
 call me a wilful, imperious girl. But if there is one of 
 those glorious women who hovered around and petted you 
 to-night, whom you should learn to love more than you 
 love me, I would myself bind the orange blossoms around 
 her brow, and deck her for your bridal. Even if I died 
 the next day even if I died the next day !" 
 
 "It would be just like your generous heart to do it," 
 replied Andre, with emotion. " But you need not fear, 
 sweet. At any moment this night, it needed but a glance 
 of your eyes to call me to your side. I heard you laugh 
 once I could tell your laugh among a thousand and I 
 thought you were having a merry time of it." 
 
 "That Miss Willing is very beautiful."
 
 1 88 PEMBERTON; 
 
 "She is not half so beautiful as you are, my darling; 
 but mere beauty of features is not everything. It is the 
 charm, the fascination which flows from a brilliant intel- 
 lect and noble soul. Sweet, you amuse me by this doleful 
 strain. You do not seem to know that you have that 
 charm of variety, which not one woman in a thousand 
 possesses. Like the poet pictured the Queen of Egypt, 
 
 ' Age cannot wither you, nor custom stale 
 Your infinite variety.' " 
 
 "I hope so," said Helen. "I hope I have something 
 to hold you by, John for I will not hold you by mere 
 force of honor, and it is death to poor me to lose you." 
 
 " I never saw you in this mood before, my many-colored 
 opal. My wonder is that so rare a gem as you should be 
 willing to rest upon so plain a bosom as mine. I know 
 well you might have generals and colonels, instead of a 
 simple captain, at your feet, my peerless ! ' ' 
 
 "You will be a general some day, and I shall help you 
 win the honor," exclaimed Helen proudly. 
 
 "Of course," said Andre, laughing. "Else I could 
 hardly have a glorious funeral in Westminster Abbey, as 
 that Creole witch predicted." 
 
 " Please never refer to that. It always makes me shud- 
 der," said Helen. " But indeed we are staying out here 
 too long. And, after one more dance this time with 
 you, my splendid ! we must go home. Isabella was ready 
 an hour ago."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 189 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE RATTLESNAKE FLAG. 
 
 A stupid fellow this and yet his blunders 
 Are oft as good as wiser men's conceits. 
 
 One month after the brilliant scenes of the Mischianza, 
 the British army left Philadelphia. Even at that time, 
 the news was in the city that an Alliance, Offensive and 
 Defensive, between France and the American States had 
 been consummated, and that a French fleet and army were 
 being made ready for action. 
 
 This altered materially the position of affairs. Military 
 prudence at once dictated the union of the British forces, 
 to enable them to make head against the combined French 
 and American armies. Therefore it was determined that 
 Philadelphia must be abandoned, and the British troops 
 and fleets concentrated at New York. 
 
 The British Ministry also assumed a new front. Instead 
 of the submit and be forgiven policy of General Howe, 
 peace at any price, short of Colonial Independence, was 
 offered by the British Commissioners, who had been es- 
 pecially appointed with the view of thus preventing the 
 dismemberment of the Kingdom. The ground taken by 
 Andre in the conversation with Pemberton which we have 
 recorded, was the ground now of the Ministers and of Par- 
 liament. Pride must yield before the danger of the hour. 
 The right of Taxation everything, if need be must be 
 given up, in order to preserve the integrity of the British 
 Empire, and to defeat what were considered the selfish and 
 ambitious schemes of Britain's ancient enemy. 
 
 There were of course many sad partings when the evac- 
 uation took place, for it is useless to deny that the British 
 officers had made themselves, on the whole, popular in
 
 1 90 PEMBERTON; 
 
 Philadelphia. They had behaved, as a general thing, in 
 a gentlemanly fashion. They had made business brisk in 
 and around the city, by the easy spending of their money 
 not the Continental paper^ which a man was afraid to 
 keep in his pocket over night, lest it should fall fifty per 
 cent, before morning, but the solid gold and silver of the 
 realm. And, besides, many of the officers and men had 
 formed those love-ties, which spurn so often the control of 
 party and race and sect, and which are perhaps more effec- 
 tive than anything else, in holding the various discordant 
 tribes of men in the bonds of a common brotherhood. 
 
 Andr6 had departed in the suite of General Grey with 
 many promises of writing and meeting as often as possible. 
 Something was said by Helen of going to New York ; but 
 Isabella very naturally did not favor the change, and their 
 guardian, Colonel Musgrave, did not approve of it. 
 There might be, it was thought, an attack upon New 
 York by the allied French and American forces, in which 
 case it would be much better for his wards to be in Phila- 
 delphia. There were peculiar advantages also in their 
 being with a lady like Mrs. Pemberton, who felt the affec- 
 tion of a mother for them. Therefore, after commending 
 them to the care of Mrs. Pemberton, and promising to 
 avail himself of every opportunity of corresponding, Colo- 
 nel Musgrave took a tearful and affectionate parting, and 
 departed with his regiment. 
 
 Formed in marching order at sunrise, on a bright morn- 
 ing in June, the British troops marched down below the 
 city, where a large number of boats had been provided, 
 and were rapidly ferried across the Delaware. 
 
 It was near ten o'clock, and all of the troops had de- 
 parted, save a few outposts, which were being rapidly 
 drawn in, when a British lieutenant, at the head of half-a- 
 dozen men, sprang upon the porch of Mrs. Pemberton's
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. IQI 
 
 mansion, and thundered at the door with the hilt of his 
 sword. 
 
 Pemberton opened it in surprise. "What is the mat- 
 ter?" cried he, in amazement. 
 
 "You are an infamous traitor!" exclaimed the British 
 officer, in a fury. " You thought we had left the city, did 
 you ? But there are enough of us here yet. Here, men, 
 arrest this traitor ! ' ' 
 
 " What do you mean, are you crazy?" shouted Pember- 
 ton, springing back, and seizing an iron bar designed for 
 the door, which leaned up behind it, against the side of 
 the entry. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Pemberton and the young ladies 
 came hastening out, alarmed at the violent voices. Pem- 
 berton stood with the bar raised, while the officer had 
 drawn his sword, and the men with their bayonets pre- 
 sented, waited but a word to fall on him. 
 
 Pushing in front of her son, Mrs. Pemberton advanced 
 with the air of a queen upon the officer. " What means 
 this ? How darest thou make this assault ? My friend, 
 General Howe, is not so far off but that he shall hear of 
 this." 
 
 "And," exclaimed Isabella, who, with Helen, also had 
 pushed to the front, by Mrs. Pemberton's side, "do you 
 not know who you are insulting? You shall answer to 
 Colonel Musgrave, our guardian, for this." 
 
 "What is your name, sir?" asked Helen, with indig- 
 nant scorn. "Are you drunk, that you thus disgrace the 
 uniform of a British officer?" 
 
 The officer had been in a fury, as he sprung upon the 
 porch, but he cooled down now very suddenly. Con- 
 fronted by three splendid women, whom he knew by com- 
 mon report to be on intimate terms with hi superior
 
 i 92 PEMBERTON; 
 
 officers, he did not feel so well assured of the justice of 
 his position. 
 
 "I have always supposed, Mrs. Pemberton, that you 
 were a loyal woman !" said he. 
 
 "And I am a loyal woman !" she replied indignantly. 
 "How darest thou call my loyalty in question?" 
 
 "Loyal people don't generally fly such flags as that 
 you're flying," said the officer sarcastically. 
 
 "Why, what does the man mean, Arthur?" asked Isa- 
 bella, glancing back at Pemberton. 
 
 "Indeed, I don't know," replied he. "I had no idea 
 that any flag was flying. In fact I told Fox positively not 
 to hoist our flag this morning." 
 
 " Well, if you will walk out into the street I think you 
 
 will see that a flag is flying, and a d d insulting one, too. ' ' 
 
 Here a soldier came up hastily, and whispered in the 
 
 ear of his superior. "I don't care," replied he, "I'm 
 
 bound to see this out." 
 
 "Wait a moment," said Pemberton, and he went out 
 into the garden behind the house, preferring that, for evi- 
 dent reasons, to the street. In a short time he came back, 
 half indignant, half laughing, and informed the ladies of 
 what he had seen. Foxey had bettered his instructions. 
 Unknown to Pemberton he had procured somewhere a 
 Continental naval flag, with its warning device of a RAT- 
 TLESNAKE, and the motto, "DON'T TREAD ON ME," and 
 thinking that the British were all gone, had spread its 
 audacious folds to the breeze. This it was which had, not 
 unnaturally, so deeply excited the anger of the Briton. 
 
 " Upon my honor, mother, I knew nothing of the rais- 
 ing of that flag did not even know it was in the house," 
 said Pemberton. 
 
 " It must have been that nigger," suggested one of the 
 soldiers.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 193 
 
 "D n the nigger! He wouldn't have done it, if 
 
 he had not thought it would please his master," replied 
 the officer shrewdly. 
 
 Another soldier came running up. " The rebel troopers 
 will be here in five minutes," cried he, all excitement. 
 " It is just as much as you can do to get off safely." 
 
 " You may thank your stars and these ladies," cried 
 the officer, shaking his sword menacingly at Pemberton, 
 " that you don't hang where your feet wouldn't touch the 
 ground, this afternoon." 
 
 Pemberton smiled. But Isabella answered haughtily : 
 " And you may thank your stars if you are not dismissed 
 the service before the month is out. Don't you attempt 
 to answer me. Go ! ' ' 
 
 However the officer might have been tempted in his 
 indignation to delay, his men had no idea of being made 
 prisoners, and were already hastening down the street. 
 With a half-uttered imprecation upon all meddling women, 
 he followed them. 
 
 Not a moment too soon for his safety. For ten minutes 
 after, a party of McLane's men, with Lieutenant Morris 
 at their head, came swooping in at a gallop, and halted 
 directly in front of Mrs. Pemberton's house, where they 
 gave three ringing cheers. 
 
 "What do they mean, Arthur?" cried Mrs. Pemberton. 
 " I thought they would be more apt to burn us down than 
 to cheer us." 
 
 " Oh, they have come straight on to the Rattlesnake 
 Flag," replied Pemberton. " If Foxey came near getting 
 us into one scrape, he has got us very cleverly out of an- 
 other." 
 
 " I do not like it at all it seems deceitful," rejoined 
 Mrs. Pemberton. " Thee must tell Fox to take down that 
 flag as soon as possible. I only tolerated the other one,
 
 194 PEMBERTON; 
 
 and I certainly shall not allow this. I shall take an op- 
 portunity to explain the whole affair to Philip Morris, the 
 first time he calls." 
 
 "That would be very right, mother," replied Pember- 
 ton, in the most dutiful manner. "And I think myself 
 it is about time for this flag business to stop. I shall speak 
 to Fox upon the subject. ' ' 
 
 The Rattlesnake flag waved, however, for several days, 
 sufficiently long to establish a new reputation for the flag- 
 house. The few high in authority who were in the secret, 
 of course manifested no want of respect or sympathy for 
 the Pembertons, while the larger class of Whigs contented 
 themselves with saying that Mrs. Pemberton had just saved 
 her property from confiscation or destruction, to use a 
 Scriptural expression, by the skin of her teeth ; and that it 
 was certainly very convenient for the mother to be on one 
 side of the fence, and the son on the other.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 195 
 
 PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ARNOLD THE HERO. 
 
 Have I battled through 
 A host of dangers periled life and health, 
 Shattered my fortunes now to be denied 
 A few base ducats ? Out upon them all 1 
 
 NEARLY a year had elapsed since the evacuation of Phil- 
 adelphia by the British forces; a year productive, as it 
 seemed, of very little benefit to the American cause. The 
 Alliance with France had not been attended as yet with 
 those substantial advantages that generally had been anti- 
 cipated. The failure of the combined attack upon Rhode 
 Island, the result, as it was charged, of the needless and 
 cowardly sailing of the French fleet to Boston, thus leaving 
 the American portion of the expedition to the hazard of 
 capture, had caused deep irritation, not only in the popu- 
 lar mind, but in the army. And the capture of Savannah 
 by the British a few months later, had naturally increased 
 both the irritation and the disappointment. 
 
 The continued depreciation of the Continental paper 
 money, also had a very depressing effect. In spite of the 
 most stringent laws to uphold it as a legal tender, it 
 steadily and rapidly decreased in value. In the June of 
 1778, it took four dollars of paper to purchase one of 
 specie ; nine months afterward, it took ten. And the de- 
 preciation still went on, almost from day to day. 
 
 General Benedict Arnold had been appointed to the
 
 196 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 command of Philadelphia, immediately upon the British 
 evacuation. But the extent of his powers was undefined, 
 and he had soon come into conflict, not only with many 
 of the citizens, but with the authorities of Pennsylvania. 
 
 Captain Andre still was in New York, now acting as 
 Aid-de-camp to the British Commander, Sir Henry Clinton. 
 Colonel Musgrave also was in New York. Both had held 
 correspondence with the Misses Graham as often as op- 
 portunities were afforded them by the passage of flags of 
 truce between the two armies. If such opportunities did 
 not come very frequently, both Helen and Andre belonged 
 to that class of lovers who can live a long time on a few 
 words of love, a few cherished tokens. Neither thought 
 for a moment of any failure of affection on either side. 
 They were both extremely admired in their respective 
 circles ; and we cannot help thinking that this is a great 
 element of confidence in love. " He loves me, and I am 
 worthy of his love;" she who can say that, is not apt to 
 be jealous. Jealousy is often the result of a conviction 
 that you are overvalued ; a fear that the lover will awake 
 from his or her delusion, and see the beloved object as he 
 or she really is. And yet Andre had once failed in love, 
 when he was younger and less admired ; but the nobility 
 of his nature was not easily prone to jealousy, and when 
 he heard occasionally of Helen Graham as a star of the 
 first magnitude in the new circles of Philadelphia, as she 
 had been in the old, and the toast of the French and 
 American officers as she had been before of the British, he 
 felt proud of his beautiful betrothed. 
 
 On a fine spring morning in 1779 such days as often 
 come, bringing a taste with them of the balmy sweetness 
 of June Arthur Pemberton stood in the porch of his mo- 
 ther's mansion, enjoying the brightness and the genial
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. IQ7 
 
 warmth. As he stood there, speaking occasionally to a 
 passing acquaintance, a gentleman in military attire came 
 along. He was a man apparently of about forty years of 
 age, and wore the uniform of a General in the Continental 
 service. He walked with somewhat of a limp, and carried 
 a gold-headed cane to steady his footsteps. Rather above 
 the medium size, and of a muscular and vigorous frame, 
 his face bore the marks of a bold, determined and ener- 
 getic spirit. But one could see at a glance that he was 
 more than this that he was also both passionate and over- 
 bearing. A man not patient of contradiction or opposi- 
 tion fiery, impetuous and arrogant and, therefore, not 
 easily controlled, nor able to harmonize with other men 
 of equal rank. Stopping as he arrived opposite Mrs. 
 Pemberton's, he spoke : 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Pemberton. A fine day this." 
 
 "A very fine day, General; will you not walk in and 
 see the ladies." 
 
 " No, I thank you it is scarcely late enough for that. 
 I am bound up to the Congress. But, as it is rather early, 
 I will sit down on your porch, if you have no objection, 
 and rest for a minute or two." 
 
 " Of course. Does your leg pain you much, now?" 
 
 " Only at times in damp and rheumatic weather. But 
 it is stiff, and lags behind the other." 
 
 "This is the second time you have been wounded in 
 that leg, I have heard?" said Pemberton, kindly. 
 
 "Yes, once at Quebec, and then again at Saratoga. 
 The red-coats seem to have a special spite at that leg. 
 But I cannot complain. I only wondered afterwards at 
 Saratoga, that I got through with my life. It was like 
 going through the big drops of a thunder-storm." 
 
 "Well, I hear that you need not have gone into the
 
 198 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 fight," replied Pemberton smiling "that Gates did not 
 urge you to go." 
 
 Arnold laughed bitterly. "No, that is true. He sent 
 Armstrong after me to call me back. I tell you, I led him 
 a round. Wherever the fire was hottest, there I spurred 
 and there followed Armstrong. But after awhile I found 
 a place as hot as hell and then he stopped following me. 
 They said afterwards I was drunk. They're always lying 
 about me, the scoundrels ! " 
 
 " It is true then that you had no command? " 
 
 " No special command but, you know, when I was 
 once on the field, I outranked nearly everybody there. 
 And they all seemed glad enough to obey and follow me. 
 God's wrath ! in the midst of battle, soldiers know a leader 
 when they see him, though they may lie about him after- 
 wards. ' ' 
 
 "And where was Gates !" 
 
 " Oh, Gates was in his tent, discussing through his spec- 
 tacles the pros and cons of our dispute with England ar- 
 guing it all out with a wounded British officer." 
 
 "He wears the chief laurels, however, being the com- 
 mander," said Pemberton. "You know his friends in 
 Congress, and he has plenty of them, would like to put 
 him in Washington's place. They are perpetually refer- 
 ring to the capture of Burgoyne, and implying that if he 
 had been Commander-in-chief, all the British generals 
 would have been captured by this time. ' ' 
 
 "They are a set of stupid donkeys," replied Arnold. 
 "Gates did not capture Burgoyne. Schuyler had ploughed 
 and sowed, and Gates came up at the last moment, and 
 reaped the field. It was already yellow with the harvest. 
 Yes, Schuyler planned Stark first put in the sickle the 
 murder of Miss McCrea gave us plenty of maddened men
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 199 
 
 and I, though I do say it myself, knew how to lead 
 them. Was I not the first man to storm the British works ? 
 If not, where did I get this cursed ball in my leg ? This 
 may sound like boasting, Pemberton, but they force me to 
 boast. Congress will not do me even simple justice. But 
 you know, of course, how they are hounding me ?' ' 
 
 "I am glad to see, General, that their Committee has 
 absolved you from all those charges which were brought 
 against you." 
 
 " Compelled to do it, sir compelled to do it ! There 
 was not a tittle of evidence. Satan ! some expect a man 
 in face of the enemy to act with the same deliberation and 
 regularity as if he were selling and billing a lot of goods 
 in a merchant's counting-room ! But what do you think 
 they are at now the scoundrels ?' ' 
 
 "Indeed I do not know I thought the whole matter 
 was settled." 
 
 " I thought so too, and resigned my command of this 
 city, you know. But now I hear from a friend, that they 
 that infernal Congress have made up their minds not 
 to adopt the report of their own Committee of Inquiry, 
 but to order General Washington to subject me to the dis- 
 grace of a court martial. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, I hope not, General," replied Pemberton, for he 
 could scarcely believe it. 
 
 "It is so, sir. You may depend upon it. And it is on 
 a par with the treatment I have received from the first. 
 Any other man would have laid down his commission long 
 ago. What does Washington say? He admits himself 
 that it is shameful. Who had done what I had done ? 
 they force me to boast with their infamous injustice wit- 
 ness the march through the wilderness to Quebec my 
 men, sir, positively boiling their own shoes to make soup
 
 2OO PEMBERTON ; 
 
 of, such was their hunger ; toiling waist-deep up icy rivers ; 
 then that fearful siege in a Canada winter before the walls 
 of Quebec besieging double our own numbers my 
 wound I count as nothing, compared to all the rest and 
 then what was my reward ?" 
 
 " I know it all, general; and I sympathize with you 
 deeply. I cannot understand the action of Congress. But, 
 remember you are not fighting, you did not go through all 
 those fearful perils for your own advancement ; but for the 
 Country, and the sacred cause of Freedom!" Pember- 
 ton's face glowed with his emotion. 
 
 "I know all that," replied Arnold. " Would I have 
 stood this gross injustice so long, had it not been for the 
 great Cause ? But every man owes a duty also to himself 
 and to his own self-respect. My motto is ' For myself 
 and for all.' Congress appointed, as you know, five Major 
 Generals, and every one of them was inferior to me in 
 rank. My name was not on the list, though it is a matter 
 of common knowledge that not one of those officers had 
 done and suffered one-half as much for the country as I 
 had. Then, after those other affairs in Connecticut, they 
 voted me a horse, in place of the two shot under me, ' as 
 a token of their approbation.' ' Arnold drawled out this 
 last in bitter irony. 
 
 " But they also did you some justice. They made you 
 at last a Major General." 
 
 "Yes, when for very shame they could no longer refuse 
 to. But they did not undo the wrong, even then ; for my 
 late promotion leaves me at the foot of the list, and all the 
 others, my juniors, outrank me." 
 
 " I do not support the Congress in this matter, General ; 
 but let us be fair to them. You know the reason which 
 was given for your not being appointed in the first place :
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 2OI 
 
 that your State already had its share of military honors. 
 I do not myself think it a good reason, but men may 
 honestly differ on such a matter. ' ' 
 
 "It was not their reason," thundered the General, 
 loudly enough to attract the attention of the passers-by ; 
 " it was a mere infamous pretence. They were jealous of 
 me, they and their army pets. I had no friends at court. 
 They meant to keep me down, or drive me out of the ser- 
 vice. They cannot keep me down, but they may drive 
 me from the service," added he with a fierce oath. 
 
 "I trust not, General; I trust you will still cleave to 
 the Stripes and Stars. We cannot spare so dauntless a 
 soldier as you have proved yourself to be." 
 
 "Well, I must be going," said Arnold, looking at his 
 watch. " I am bound again to that infernal Congress. 
 You know how I must want money just on the point of 
 my marriage, too and yet I cannot get a settlement of 
 my accounts from their committee. I believe they mean 
 to starve me ! They will neither accept my accounts, nor 
 reject them. I sometimes almost regret that I ever touched 
 a sword. I should be as rich a man as Bob Morris, and 
 your other magnates who have made a good thing out of 
 the chances of the war, if I had remained in business 
 as they did." 
 
 " If Mr. Morris has made money out of his honest ven- 
 tures, he has also spent it generously and patriotically ; 
 you must admit that, General," replied Pemberton, a little 
 warmly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I don't deny that. And I was not finding 
 fault with him for making money. He simply remained 
 in business, and the money flowed into his pockets, as it 
 would into mine, if I had not been so hot-headed, and 
 rushed at the head of my company of State Guards to Bos- 
 ton. Then I should have Congress at my heels, accepting
 
 2O2 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 my generous donations with votes of thanks, instead of 
 snarling and biting at me like a pack of mangy curs. But 
 good-bye, Mr. Pemberton it's a long lane that has no 
 turning;" and the irascible General walked, limping, up 
 the street. 
 
 As he left, Lieutenant Morris, who was a frequent visi- 
 tor to the city since the evacuation, came up from the op- 
 posite direction. 
 
 "What had the General to say this morning any new 
 trouble?" inquired he, laughing. 
 
 "He is soured to the very dregs," replied Pemberton, 
 seriously. " He is hard to manage, but they do not treat 
 him fairly, Phil." 
 
 "I know they do not. No officer in the army would 
 have patiently borne that promotion of five juniors over 
 his head and he had done more than all of them put to- 
 gether. It puzzled us in the army very much what did 
 it all mean, Arthur? You are here on the spot, and 
 ought to understand the internal workings of that stupid 
 Congressional machine a little." 
 
 " Perhaps I do a little. But holding their sessions in 
 secret, it is not so easy to find out things even here on the 
 spot, as you may suppose. As to those appointments, 
 many doubtless looked at the matter from the politician's 
 point of view not from the military. The question was 
 not with them who had shown capacity, and ability to 
 serve the country, but who should partake of the broth. 
 Here was a certain amount of honor and pay and here 
 were the honorable members' friends in the thirteen States. 
 Now, each State, they held, was entitled to its proportion- 
 ate share of the broth. To appoint Arnold, would be to 
 give Connecticut more than her proportion and, if it had 
 not been so, the members from Connecticut had no par- 
 ticular love for Arnold. ' '
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 2OJ 
 
 "Oh, that is miserable!" exclaimed Philip. "We 
 could hardly believe that, in the army." 
 
 " That is one view the worst one. But there are other 
 men than mere mousing politicians in Congress there are 
 statesmen and gentlemen and with them the reason I 
 think was this. Despite all Arnold's capacity and daring, 
 they have no faith in the man. There are always reports 
 floating about of his want of high honor and even, if it 
 must be said, strict honesty. Even here in Philadelphia, 
 we hear the same things. He will live extravagantly 
 and he has not the money to pay for it. You know how 
 far an officer's pay, in Continental money, will go to sup- 
 port him?" 
 
 " I am not quite certain whether it will buy oats for his 
 horse, or not. Some of the officers say it will ; others say 
 it won't but here is a bill I just now paid, and you 
 can judge a little from it," replied Morris, taking a slip of 
 paper out of his pocket, and reading it : 
 
 " Lieut. P. MORRIS 
 
 Bot. of W. NICOLL, 
 
 I Pair Boots $100 oo 
 
 4 Handkerchiefs $12 48 oo 
 
 6 Yards Blue Cloth $50 300 oo 
 
 $44800 
 Received payment, 
 
 W. NICOLL." 
 
 "I don't think an officer's pay could go very far at 
 those rates," said Pemberton, laughing. "You must live 
 on what you all have so much of glory I" 
 
 "But these confounded shopkeepers and bootmakers 
 are such vulgar fellows that they have no proper sense of 
 glory," replied Philip, with a woeful laugh. "Now 
 there's Arnold, if they would only take pay in glory, he 
 has millions of it." 
 
 " Yes, it is a sad affair. As you say, he is covered with
 
 204 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 glory, and persecuted with debts. Moving in our highest 
 and most expensive circles, engaged to be married to one 
 of the most beautiful women in the city but who will of 
 course expect to live, as his wife, in the handsome style to 
 which she always has been accustomed and no money !" 
 
 " What ! has he no property of his own, and yet living 
 in such an ostentatious and expensive manner ?' ' 
 
 " He says that he spent almost the whole of a handsome 
 fortune in that Northern campaign ; and brings in a large 
 claim against Congress. The Committee of Accounts will 
 not pass it ; evidently doubt its fairness. Arnold storms, 
 for his creditors torment him. Congress will not move. 
 He said just now they meant to starve him, or to force him 
 out of the service ; and he implied they might perhaps do 
 the latter." 
 
 " It would be a great loss to the country," replied Mor- 
 ris. "He has no equal for dauntless intrepidity, except 
 perhaps it be 'Mad Anthony.' But Arnold has more sol- 
 dierly ability than Wayne. You have heard how he fought 
 the British flotilla on Lake Champlain ? An officer who 
 was there told me that he never saw such fighting. He 
 was outnumbered and beaten, but he would not strike his 
 flag driving his galleys ashore and setting them on fire, 
 in spite of all Carleton could do. He certainly is a terri- 
 ble fighter." 
 
 "I had not heard so much of that," returned Pember- 
 ton, "-but I had from an eye-witness an account of his 
 conduct in those two battles near Saratoga. He says Ar- 
 nold seemed almost crazy with daring, and yet all his 
 orders proved his sanity. He never saw anything like it. 
 The men caught the contagion of his stormy madness, and 
 followed him even up to the muzzles of the British cannon. 
 He shouted, he stormed, he raged like a lion, he plunged 
 into the hottest of the fire, and at last absolutely tried to
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 2OJ 
 
 force his horse into the enemy's entrenchments. In fact, 
 he won Saratoga." 
 
 "It seems to me, Arthur, that even the money value of 
 that capture of Burgoyne and his army might be put at a 
 pretty high figure?" 
 
 " No doubt about that, but the States are too poor at 
 present to pay for such actions in money, even in Conti- 
 nental money. Arnold and all the rest of you must per- 
 force take your pay in Glory. It cannot be helped, Phil ; 
 I am sorry for it, but it cannot be helped." 
 
 " I, for one, do not complain," replied Morris. "To 
 be sure I would like to get enough to live decently on. 
 But I am a young man, and unmarried. I have no wife 
 and children starving and freezing at home. Oh, Arthur, 
 if Congress, or the States, could do a little for thousands 
 of the officers and the men who are situated as I have 
 described, it would be both right and politic." 
 
 " My efforts shall never be wanting, Phil. You know 
 that of what money I can myself control, I give freely." 
 
 " I know you do, Arthur." 
 
 "And yet, Phil, so unhappy are the times, that a vio- 
 lent and ignorant party among our citizens, as you may 
 have heard, doubt my patriotism, my devotion to the 
 Cause." 
 
 "I came mainly to speak to you about that, but the 
 sight of Arnold turned my thoughts into another channel. 
 Is there any danger of an outbreak ?' ' 
 
 "Not against me, or any of the more moderate men. 
 But from what I hear, Lawyer Wilson may be attacked at 
 any moment. The City Troop have been ordered to hold 
 themselves in readiness, and a number of Wilson's friends, 
 myself included, have agreed to aid in the defence of his 
 house if assaulted." 
 
 "You may count me in and McLane," replied the
 
 2O6 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 lieutenant warmly. " Oh that we had our own troop here 
 would we not sweep these vermin, if they come out of 
 their holes. But why do they make this special tilt at 
 Wilson, he is one of the best lawyers you have." 
 
 " You know he defended Roberts and Carlisle, who were 
 convicted of treason." 
 
 "But they were convicted, and hung besides. Did not 
 that satisfy them ?' ' 
 
 " No. They seem to think that it was even treasonable 
 in a lawyer to defend them, as if it were not a lawyer's 
 business to defend, if need be, the most wretched mur- 
 derer ! But Wilson said, and he really believes besides, 
 that they were not legally guilty of treason. ' ' 
 
 "I don't agree with him," said Morris. "But we are 
 fighting to make this a free country, and what kind of a 
 free country would that be, where men could not safely 
 differ in opinion ?" 
 
 "Wilson also defended those merchants who would not 
 conform to the established scale of prices. ' ' 
 
 " Well, if he has violated the laws, let them punish him 
 according to the laws. But I am opposed to this mob- 
 rule, to the death." 
 
 "And I also," said Pemberton. "It is one of our 
 greatest dangers. I hope it will be trodden out at once 
 wherever it shows its snake-like head." 
 
 " I must go and tell McLane about this," said Morris, 
 rising, for he had taken a seat on the porch during this 
 conversation. 
 
 " Come and take dinner with us, Phil ; you know we 
 are always glad to see you." 
 
 " I will or else early in the evening. How is the 
 beautiful Isabella?" 
 
 "You mean, I suppose, the adorable Helen?" replied 
 Pemberton, with a smile. "She is as beautiful and be-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 207 
 
 witching as ever. Phil " in a low voice " I am glad to 
 find you are growing more sensible. If you cannot have 
 a woman as your wife, then have her as your friend." 
 
 " Arth old boy," replied Philip, in the same low tone, 
 but his voice quivered with its earnestness, " did you ever 
 know me to give up anything, while there was still the 
 faintest hope ? I may alter my plans, but I never alter 
 my purpose. There is no other woman on the wide earth, 
 so far as I am concerned, save Helen Graham." 
 
 Pemberton shook his head sadly, as his friend walked 
 slowly away. He had supposed, from the more subdued 
 and sensible manner in which Philip had behaved of late, 
 that he had abandoned all hope of winning Helen. But 
 it seemed that he still loved her with the same intensity as 
 before and only waited a favorable opportunity to press 
 his suit. Whether Helen had been deceived as well as 
 himself, Pemberton could not tell from her behaviour, 
 which was always exceedingly kind and friendly to Philip. 
 
 Our own opinion is that she was not very greatly de- 
 ceived. Women as keen-witted as Helen, are not apt to 
 be deceived in matters of that character. But she was 
 very much pleased nevertheless with the change in the 
 Lieutenant's manner. She wished him for a friend, if she 
 did not wish him for a lover. What she might have 
 wished, if she had never seen Andre, it is impossible to 
 say.
 
 208 PEMBERTON : 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A CHARM. 
 
 How curious that a lew square yards of bunting 
 Should have so great a charm ! 
 
 EARLY that evening, Philip came according to promise. 
 But he had scarcely spoken to the family circle, which he 
 found gathered in the parlor, when Foxey came rushing in, 
 wild with terror. 
 
 "Oh, Mas' Arth dey're comin', dey're comin' ! " 
 cried he. 
 
 "Who is coming, Fox?" asked Mrs. Pemberton, 
 calmly. 
 
 "De mob de wild mob. Dey had a meetin' out Arch 
 Street 'bove Fift. Gen'. Arnol' tried to swade 'em to 
 'sperse but dey flung stones at de Gen'ral, and made him 
 run 'way. And now dey're 'bout marchin' down into de 
 town." 
 
 Pemberton started up. " I do not think they mean to 
 attack us, mother ; but I will wait and see. If they pass 
 us, I shall hurry out through the garden to Wilson's for 
 probably they are going there. Where are you bound, 
 Philip"? " 
 
 "Around to the rendezvous of the City Troop. If we 
 can get a dozen together, I think it will be enough at 
 least to make a diversion. We shall pass here first. Had 
 you not better close up everything in front, Aunt Rachel?" 
 
 "What! like convicts, that fear the constable?" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Pemberton, rising majestically from her seat. 
 " Fox, light every lamp and candle in the rooms in the 
 front part of the house. And, girls, I intend going out
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 209 
 
 into the porch to see what these men look like. Will you 
 come out with me? Do not if you think there is any 
 danger. ' ' 
 
 "Of course, Mrs. Pemberton, we will go with you," 
 replied the two ladies, almost in a breath. "It is the 
 very thing to do, if you apprehend an attack, to meet it 
 at the threshold," said Isabella proudly. 
 
 "Yes, as father used to say, always 'face the music.' 
 Let us look these curs in the eye, ' ' added Helen haughtily. 
 
 Morris looked at Pemberton. It was a glance of inter- 
 rogation. 
 
 "I think the ladies are right, Phil. And bad as mobs 
 are, they cannot get up a mob in Philadelphia, which will 
 harm, or even insult, a woman." 
 
 "Then I'm off," said Morris, hastening out of the front 
 door. 
 
 By the time Fox had lit up the front rooms, and the 
 ladies had donned their shawls, the noise of the mob could 
 be distinctly heard coming down the street. It was a low, 
 dull roar, as of an approaching tornado. 
 
 Mrs. Pemberton and her two aids-de-camp as Helen 
 laughingly described her sister and herself afterwards 
 threw wide open the front door, and took their station in 
 the porch, just before the head of the mob reached the 
 house. All the other houses were dark, and tightly closed 
 in front ; and the mob, as they came up, were evidently 
 surprised at the festive appearance Mrs. Pemberton's man- 
 sion presented, and at the presence of the three ladies on 
 the porch. But they marched along several hundred 
 silent men, armed with muskets, and dragging two cannon, 
 leading the van ; and behind them a noisy, swearing mul- 
 titude, unarmed save with stones and clubs. 
 
 It was evident at once from the passing of the front 
 ranks, that no harm was intended to the Pembertons, un-
 
 2io PEMBERTON; 
 
 less the breaking of the front windows with stones might 
 be called such. But not a stone was thrown ; and when 
 the procession had about half passed, to Mrs. Pemberton's 
 excessive surprise, she saw many eyes cast upward, and 
 then heard a rough voice shout : 
 
 "There cheers for the Rattlesnake Flag!" which were 
 given with a will. 
 
 " What does it all mean ?" said she to Isabella. "Is it 
 possible that old affair is not forgotten yet ?' ' 
 
 The young ladies exchanged glances, but said nothing. 
 The roof over the porch prevented them from seeing what 
 was going on above, but they had a strong conviction of 
 what was really transpiring. For Foxey, in his anxiety for 
 the safety of the dwelling and its inmates, had gone up- 
 stairs, and was waving the Rattlesnake Flag as a charm 
 and protection from one of the upper windows.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 211 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE MOB. 
 
 A mob a riotous, disorderly mob! 
 I argue not with men in such a mood, 
 Save with the ball and bayonet. 
 
 No sooner had Pemberton ascertained that the front 
 rjuiks of the mob had passed the house, than picking up 
 his hat and cane, he ran rapidly down the garden, and 
 thence to Mr. Wilson's, at the corner of Walnut and Third 
 streets. The mob had not turned into Third street, as he 
 feared, but had gone down to Second, as if to disguise the 
 object they had in view. 
 
 At the door of Mr. Wilson's house a number of gentle- 
 men were standing, listening and watching men of intel- 
 ligence and high position, who did not choose to see 
 Liberty stricken down in the home of its professed friends. 
 Among the twenty or more thus gathered, were some who 
 held commissions in the Continental army, such as Cap- 
 tains McLane and Campbell, Colonel Grayson and Gen- 
 eral Mifflin. 
 
 Soon they heard the roar of the mob, as it turned up 
 Walnut from Second, and came directly on toward the 
 house. Now the previously silent and armed men began 
 to shout, crying out, " Death to Traitors ! Death to all 
 Tories 1" 
 
 The gentlemen at once retired within the house, and 
 barricaded the doors. The lower windows were closed 
 tight with shutters, but you could see from the street that 
 the second and third story windows were open. 
 
 "Bring out that old Tory, Jim Wilson !" shouted one, 
 who appeared to be the leader of the mob. " Bring him 
 out, I say or your blood be upon your own heads 1"
 
 212 PEMBERTONJ 
 
 A clear, ringing voice from the house replied no one 
 ever knew afterwards whose voice it was "Let all men 
 who love the laws of the land, and would not suffer harm, 
 retire from before this house, which is James Wilson's castle. 
 If they will not, their blood be upon their own heads ! ' ' 
 
 The words were hardly out of the speaker's mouth, 
 before a shot from some rash hand had entered the second 
 story window whence the voice proceeded. And immedi- 
 ately, like an echo, came the report of one musket from 
 the same window, followed by a shriek from a man who 
 stood near the leader of the rioters, as he threw up his 
 nands, and fell to the ground mortally wounded. 
 
 At this, there was a volley from the mob, answered by 
 a return volley from the house. The contest had fairly 
 begun. 
 
 ' ' Bring up the cannon ! ' ' shouted various voices. But 
 this was not easily done ; for the fire of the besieged and 
 they were good marksmen, and the distance was short 
 told fearfully upon those who rushed to the ropes of the 
 cannon in response. And soon the middle of the street, 
 within musket reach of the windows, was entirely cleared ; 
 the mob clustering in a line on the same side of the street 
 as the house, where it was difficult to aim at them. 
 
 But, before many minutes, a party of the rioters, headed 
 by two men with sledge-hammers, made a rush for the 
 door of the dwelling. Here it was impossible for those 
 above to harm them, except by greatly exposing their own 
 persons. 
 
 "Thud! thud!" went the heavy sledges soon fol- 
 lowed by a sharp crash, as one of the panels of the door 
 was stove in. But the moment the panel gave way, the 
 besieged fired a volley from the entry through the open- 
 ing, and the two sledgemen staggered back and fell dead 
 on the pavement.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 213 
 
 But the contest probably would have gone hard with the 
 defenders of the house, if at this moment a cry of "the 
 horse ! the horse ! ' ' had not been heard from the rear of 
 the mob ; and supposing a whole troop was upon them, 
 the greater part of the rioters armed men and all fled 
 in every direction, carrying off their wounded ; while up 
 swept, through the dark, like a very small tornado, just 
 nine horsemen. Morris had found these at their quarters, 
 and, hearing the firing, they had concluded to risk an at- 
 tack, without waiting for any more of their number. As 
 it turned out, these were sufficient; though others, in a 
 short time, came riding in, and the city was put under 
 regular patrol. 
 
 Of the defenders of the house which was called ever 
 afterwards, half in jest and half in earnest, Fort Wilson 
 one, Captain Campbell, was killed, and several were 
 wounded. Of the rioters, five certainly were killed, and a 
 large number wounded. But of course the number of the 
 latter could never be ascertained as they had no desire 
 to incur in addition the dangers of a criminal prosecu- 
 tion. 
 
 When Pemberton returned home, half-an-hour after- 
 ward, he found his mother and the young ladies anxiously 
 awaiting him. 
 
 "I am all safe, mother," said he, as he entered the 
 room. 
 
 " God be thanked !" exclaimed Mrs. Pemberton, as she 
 put her arms around his neck and kissed him. "And I 
 hope every other mother can say that to-night. ' ' 
 
 Isabella also came up and kissed him. And then Helen. 
 The excitement and agitation of the moment overpowered 
 their usual ceremonious behavior. It seemed very natural 
 to both of them to do this, and even Mrs. Pemberton, 
 decorous to the last degree, did not open her grave eyes.
 
 214 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 Pemberton related what had taken place, a great dea\ 
 of which they had already surmised from the discharges 
 of musketry, which they had plainly heard. 
 
 " Ah, my son," said his mother, " this is what I feared, 
 as the result of throwing off their dutiful allegiance to their 
 King. It is but a step from Rebellion to the Mob." 
 
 "Well, we have given King Mob a pretty good lesson 
 to-night," replied Pemberton proudly. " I think it will 
 be a good while before another mob raises its foul head in 
 Philadelphia." 
 
 "I hope so," rejoined his mother, shaking her head 
 despondingly ; "but this Rebellion began in a mob and, 
 if it succeeds, it will be the triumph of a mob." 
 
 "Yes," said Helen, "and then it will die of a mob. 
 Uncle once said that if the King would but withdraw his 
 armies, the Rebellion would fall to pieces of itself. ' ' 
 
 "I wish he would only try the experiment," replied 
 Pemberton. " Come, Helen, that is a ground we both can 
 meet on." 
 
 ' I think it is time we were all going to bed, girls," 
 said Mrs. Pemberton . ' ' You must take care of your roses ; ' ' 
 and, obedient to her signal, they followed her out of the 
 room. Isabella having to come back again for a moment, 
 however, for her handkerchief and a good-night kiss. 
 
 Pemberton walked the floor for a full hour afterwards. 
 He was a sincere lover of his country, and, in the aid he 
 had given the Rebellion, had no private ends to gratify. 
 Even his ambition was in no wise enlisted in the success 
 of the American cause. The army was not particularly to 
 his taste, even if he had not been debarred from it by his 
 mother's prayers. And for political and civil honors he 
 also cared but little. He valued too highly the precious 
 gifts which generally have to be sacrificed upon the shrine 
 of Ambition, by those who would succeed in her service :
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 215 
 
 perfect independence of thought, perfect honesty and sin- 
 cerity of speech and action. 
 
 Besides, he was just the opposite of a fanatic and bigot. 
 He always saw his opponent's view of a question quite as 
 clearly as his own. Therefore he could not help laying 
 himself open continually to the suspicions of men of 
 smaller, narrower minds. He was an earnest Whig, but 
 he understood clearly how another man could be an 
 equally earnest, equally honest Tory. And though he was 
 a Whig, he did not blind himself to the force of the argu- 
 ments that were urged on the opposite side. 
 
 Now here was this Mob. How much truth was there in 
 what his mother and Helen had said ? Could the country 
 hold together, and establish a great Empire an Empire 
 without an Emperor if the armies of the United States 
 should prove successful ? They had not been able as yet 
 to adopt the Articles of Confederation, although reported 
 two years previously and even these Articles were lacking 
 in those powers necessary to the very existence of a govern- 
 ment. No tax could be laid, or money appropriated, 
 without the consent of nine out of the thirteen States. 
 What could such a Confederation, even if agreed upon, 
 amount to? 
 
 Then again, what would this one-sided French doctrine 
 of Equality unbalanced by the equally true doctrine of 
 Inequality lead to ? Mob Law? Perhaps; though the 
 natural instinct of self-preservation in the Community, 
 might be relied upon to meet and check that. 
 
 But, carrying out the idea of Equality, and coupling 
 with it the kindred doctrine of the absolute right of the 
 Majority to rule where would that lead ? Where could 
 it lead, but to the making the ignorant and uncultivated 
 classes the real and legal rulers of the land, who would 
 hold that they had the right to decide all questions, politi-
 
 2i6 PEMBERTON; 
 
 cal, moral and religious ; and that by their decision, the 
 wiser and more cultivated classes should abide. It was a 
 dark picture of a future, when men of ability and culture 
 the natural and God-given leaders of the nation should 
 be thrust aside from all places of trust and power, to make 
 room for a set of unprincipled Demagogues, who would 
 flatter the people, crying Vox Populi vox Dei, as his flat- 
 terers cried out to King Herod, careless that the same 
 result would follow, and this many-headed Herod also be 
 eaten to death by worms. 
 
 Still, he saw nothing else to be done, than to go for- 
 ward. Not exultingly, like many, but still earnestly and 
 hopefully. Giving what influence he had to the adoption 
 of such energetic measures as were absolutely necessary to 
 the success of the war, while he also gave his influence to 
 the support of those great principles of Individual Freedom, 
 without the establishment of which, the success of tha 
 States would neither be conducive to their own progress in 
 civilization, nor to that of the world at large. 
 
 And having come to this conclusion, Pemberton looked 
 at his watch, saw that it was an hour later than his usual 
 bed-time, dismissed the subject from his mind, and occu- 
 pying its place with the more agreeable thought of Isabella 
 Graham, retired to his room, and to rest.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 217 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE SPY. 
 
 " This concurrence, 
 This opportunity, is in our favor, 
 And all advantages in war are lawful ; 
 We take what offers without questioning." Wallenstein. 
 
 It was several weeks after the events related in our last 
 chapter, when a young woman called one morning at Mrs. 
 Pemberton's, and asked to see Miss Helen Graham for a 
 few minutes at the door. Helen went out, and inquired 
 as to her business. 
 
 "If you are Miss Hilen Graham," said the young wo- 
 man, "Mrs. Malone wished me to stop and inquire 
 whether your leddyship wanted any things washed yet this 
 week ?' ' 
 
 The woman spoke with a slight Irish accent, but was 
 apparently a native of the colony. 
 
 " I have a few handkerchiefs and collars for her," re- 
 plied Helen. " Come up-stairs with me, and I will give 
 them to you." 
 
 The woman followed Helen up into her room closing 
 the door of the chamber after her as she entered ; and 
 Helen soon made up a small bundle, and handed it to 
 her. 
 
 As the woman took the bundle, she handed Helen, in 
 return, a small sealed note, the familiar handwriting of 
 whose address caused a glow to spread instant Jy over her 
 features. 
 
 "I will wait a moment," said the woman, with a half 
 smile, turning delicately away, and gazing out of the 
 window. 
 
 The note ran thus :
 
 ti8 PEMBERTON; 
 
 " MY SWEETEST AND DEAREST 
 
 " You may trust the bearer of this, who is called Cap- 
 tain Fanny, implicitly. She has a message for you. I 
 am not able, for it would not be wise, to write much rela- 
 tive to our private affairs for this letter may perhaps be 
 read by strangers. I am very well, however and hope 
 you will be able to assure me, in return, that the dearest 
 girl ii the world is as well as she is beautiful. Believe me 
 ever and eternally your own A." 
 
 "Who- gave you this?" said Helen, after thrusting the 
 note into her bosom looking attentively into the woman's 
 face. 
 
 " Captain Andry " in a low voice. 
 
 "The note you gave me speaks of a Captain Fanny." 
 
 "I am her." 
 
 "A captain?" 
 
 " They call me captain," replied the woman, laughing. 
 "I care not." 
 
 "Are you a spy?" whispered Helen, while her face 
 whitened. 
 
 " I am a spy," returned the woman carelessly. " Any- 
 thing to aid a good cause, your leddyship knows." 
 
 " You have a message for me ? " 
 
 "I have. Will your leddyship lock the door?" 
 
 Helen did so and from a pocket under her skirt, the 
 woman produced a medium-sized pistol. Helen saw it 
 was primed, and ready for use. Her visitor then by a 
 considerable exertion of strength, unscrewed the barrel 
 about the middle, and took from it a long slug. This also 
 unscrewed, and disclosed a cavity which was filled with a 
 roll of thin paper, closely written in a very small but clear 
 handwriting. 
 
 "You see," said the woman, "if I am taken, or fear
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 219 
 
 being taken, if I can only git a chance to discharge my 
 pistol, they may search me after that as much as they 
 plase." 
 
 Helen took the paper. " Take a seat," said she, "till 
 I have time to glance over it." 
 
 While Helen is glancing over her note, let us say a 
 word or two relative to her visitor. In the first place, 
 Captain Fanny though Helen did not know it, and never 
 knew it was not a woman, but a man. Francis Malone 
 was one of those curious beings, who delight in disguises, 
 merely for the sake of the disguise and the deception. 
 As he was rather under the usual size, and slightly though 
 strongly made, with a frame tough and elastic as whale- 
 bone, and as he also was naturally almost destitute of a 
 beard, his most frequent disguise was that of a woman. 
 
 He was well-looking, with blue eyes and sandy hair, and 
 was thus enabled to personate not only a woman, but a 
 young and pretty one. Many were the flirtations which 
 he had indulged in when thus disguised, and great was the 
 help which his feminine attire afforded him in his frequent 
 journeys between the British and the Continental camps. 
 A perfect mimic, and able to imitate the feminine voice 
 and characteristics as one to the manner born, Fanny Ma- 
 lone or Captain Fanny, as the supposed woman was fre- 
 quently termed was a universal favorite. She even stood 
 high among the rude soldiery of both camps, for, as may 
 be surmised, however she might flirt, her virtue was above 
 suspicion. 
 
 But not only did she deceive the soldiers, Captain Fanny 
 also deceived the generals. All thought to the last that 
 she was a woman. Washington, Sir William Howe, Sir 
 Henry Clinton, and their respective officers attached to 
 the secret service, were all deceived in this respect. And
 
 220 PEMBERTON J 
 
 there is no doubt that Andre was also. For Fanny nevei 
 forgot herself and her acting was perfect. 
 
 But even more curious still, Captain Fanny deceived 
 both parties as to her integrity. She professed the utmost 
 loyalty to one side, the most devoted patriotism to the 
 other; but the truth was, she served and betrayed both 
 alike, except as personal preferences sometimes influenced 
 her actions. 
 
 In fact, Francis Malone was one of those men who cared 
 nothing for the principles involved in the contest. He 
 did not care a particle which army succeeded. His only 
 preference was that the war should go on ; for he liked the 
 business of a spy in itself, and he found it very profitable. 
 The States might be poor, but Washington never thought 
 of offering him Continental money. The British generals 
 had plenty of gold, and they paid liberally. He evidently 
 thought the whole contest a stupendous joke; and he 
 fooled each party to the top of his humor. 
 
 But how could he do this ? By never betraying any 
 great secret of either party, and by conveying to each 
 respectively a large amount of second-rate and yet useful 
 information. It required adroitness ; he gloried in pos- 
 sessing it. It required an infinite amount of plausible 
 lying ; he had not the least regard for veracity. And any 
 one who has had experience of such a natural liar, knows 
 that it is almost impossible to convict a man of false- 
 hood, who never scruples to utter not only the first lie, 
 but one hundred more, if necessary, to substantiate that 
 first. 
 
 Every case has its exceptions. Francis Malone had his. 
 He had no comprehension of great principles ; but he had 
 a keen sense of gratitude. In certain cases where an im- 
 portant favor had been done him, the Captain was the 
 sou] of truth and honor. He would not deceive nor betray
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 221 
 
 his benefactor, while he would serve him to the utmost of 
 his power. This was Captain Fanny's sound point amid 
 so much rottenness, if we may call that rottenness which, 
 from the Captain's point of view, was merely harmless and 
 profitable joking with a pack of lunatics, who had gone 
 crazy to the point of fighting, upon a question of no 
 earthly consequence whatever. 
 
 When Helen had finished the reading of this second 
 and more important letter, she placed it carefully in a 
 small drawer, under lock and key, and turned again to her 
 visitor. 
 
 " I am told that you can be trusted with perfect confi- 
 dence?" 
 
 "It is so. I shall niver betray Captain Andry. Or the 
 Cause," added she. 
 
 " Have you known Captain Andre long?" 
 
 " No ; only a short time." 
 
 " I thought you spoke as if you knew him well." Helen 
 was not in the least suspicious, but something in the tone 
 with which Andre's name had been mentioned, had caught 
 ner ear as implying a certain warmth of feeling. 
 
 " Captain Andry once did us a great favor ; and I niver 
 forgit favors. Did you ever hear him tell of a boy he 
 saved from Captain Cunningham's clutches?" 
 
 "The boy who was captured with a party of rebel sol- 
 diers?" 
 
 "The same boy. He was my brither, my leddy. I, 
 nor none of us, will ever forgit it. Niver !" 
 
 Helen's face lightened. "I feel we may trust you en- 
 tirely, my good girl," said she. 
 
 'To the black death!" replied Captain Fanny ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 "I cannot answer this letter at once. Suppose you 
 bring home those articles in three or four days. Ask to
 
 222 PEMBERTON; 
 
 see me. Could I find you at the washerwoman's, if 1 
 wanted you?" 
 
 "Yes. I'm boarding there. Ask for Mr. Malone, ef 
 I don't come to the door." 
 
 "Mr. Malone?" 
 
 " Yes; I dress up like a man ginerally in Philadelfy." 
 
 ' It must be very unpleasant to you." 
 
 "Yes, it is rather onpleasant, but I'm used to it. I 
 think, my leddy, when you see me, you'll own I am a 
 pretty nate-looking boy. ' ' 
 
 " I think you would be very good-looking for a man ; 
 for you are really quite a pretty girl." 
 
 Captain Fanny laughed "So the soldiers often tell 
 me." 
 
 "You should be very careful how you trust yourself 
 about the camps," said Helen gravely, with a world of 
 warning and caution in her tones. 
 
 " I am, my leddy, very careful indeed. We poor girls 
 haven't much but our repitation, and when that's gone, 
 there's nothing lift," and the girl put a corner of her 
 check apron to her face, to hide, as Helen thought, her 
 modest blushes but really to conceal her smiling, for the 
 whole scene was perfectly delightful to Captain Fanny. 
 
 Fanny then took up the bundle, and making a very ex- 
 cellent curtsey indeed as she left the room, took her way 
 down stairs, and out of the house. 
 
 Helen watched at the head of the stairs, until she heard 
 the front door close upon her visitor, and then returned to 
 her room. Locking the door, and unlocking the drawer, 
 she took from it Andrews letter. But before she set herself 
 to giving it another and more careful perusal, she took the 
 first note from her bosom, and having read and re-read 
 that, and pressed it again and again to her lips, in a fashion 
 not uncommon with very impassioned lovers, she placed
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 223 
 
 it in a box, sweetly scented, among a number of others 
 which evidently were written in the same graceful hand. 
 
 The other and longer letter, which she then sat down 
 to consider, read as follows : 
 
 " Light of my eyes, will you pardon me for writing you 
 a mere business letter? But it is in a case of the utmost 
 importance to the good cause. We are in some perplex- 
 ity, and I thought perhaps you could aid us. Sir H. C. 
 has recently received several anonymous letters from P. 
 and he is very anxious to know who is the writer. All the 
 signs point to one man. You remember the name of that 
 girl you told me you disliked so at Bethlehem. If he is 
 the man, he is worth winning back to his allegiance. He 
 may become perhaps a second General Monk, and put an 
 end to this unhappy war between brethren. Monk was 
 made Duke of Albemarle. The man, or men, who can 
 restore peace and union to the Kingdom, shall surely not 
 miss of their reward. The Colonies shall have a Parlia- 
 ment like England, including a House of Lords, men en- 
 nobled for their services to the King ; and a Viceroy, with 
 kingly state. You need not hesitate to name these re- 
 wards, if he is the man nor he to name them in confi- 
 dence to others. At the first great success of the King's 
 arms, this plan will be announced. Everything will be 
 granted to the Colonies but Independence. Everything 
 must be done to keep the Kingdom united, and to defeat 
 Roman Catholic France, the great foe of England and the 
 Protestant faith. 
 
 " Sweet, you know I am ambitious but it is not for my- 
 self alone it is for you also, my peerless one ! Perhaps 
 I may yet take my seat in an American House of Lords, 
 and be able to place a coronet on your beautiful brow. 
 What is life, without some great aim ? Of course we may
 
 224 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 fail but life is dignified and ennobled, even if Fame and 
 Station are not won. 
 
 " I know you will as gladly aid in the work, as take 
 your part in the reward and enjoy the reward the more, 
 because you have thus aided in achieving it. 
 
 ' ' I would not expose you to danger, but there can be 
 no risk for you, if you are prudent and, at the very worst, 
 there is only the risk of your being sent into our lines, 
 where you would find a hearty welcome from all loyal 
 souls to say nothing of my private longing to see you. 
 
 "As to the rightfulness of a man's coming back to his 
 allegiance, who can doubt it? General Charles Lee went 
 over from the King's service to the rebels, on condition 
 that they should make up the loss of his commission to 
 him ; and their Congress did it, and made him next highest 
 to Washington. If a loyal man can thus become a rebel, 
 how much more rightfully can a repentant rebel become 
 loyal ! These and other considerations, will doubtless 
 occur to your own quick wit as also the way in which 
 you had better approach the man. If it is the one I sup- 
 pose, in writing me call him Vasa. Answer by the bearer 
 as soon as convenient. Use no more names in writing 
 than are absolutely necessary though our precautions 
 against discovery are I think admirable. Your loving A. 
 
 " Burn this letter as soon as you have carefully read it. 
 Of course speak of it to no one. Be wise as a serpent, as 
 you are innocent as a dove. Again farewell, sweetest and 
 dearest!" 
 
 Three times did Helen peruse this letter, until every 
 line and word were fully impressed upon her memory. 
 Then ordering a light to be brought up, which she was in 
 the habit of doing, for sealing-wax was then commonly 
 used in sealing letters, and she had several correspondents
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 225 
 
 among her old school-mates in various parts of the coun- 
 try, she committed the hazardous epistle to the flames. 
 
 This done, Helen sat down to think. The mission en- 
 trusted to her was not entirely pleasant, for it involved 
 secrecy and finesse, and her natural disposition was so 
 frank and open, that anything that savored of concealment 
 was distasteful to her. But not for a moment did she hesi- 
 tate on that account. Neither did a thought of there 
 being anything wrong in the trust confided to her, take 
 definite shape in her mind. She accepted it just in the 
 light that her lover had presented it : a repentant man was 
 anxious to return to his duty, a distracted kingdom was to 
 be reunited on liberal terms, the sacred cause of Protest- 
 antism was to be maintained against its ancient enemy. 
 That in aiding and encouraging a repentant rebel to return 
 to his duty to his King, she would be acting a dishonora- 
 ble part, was an idea that never even entered her mind. 
 There might be some risk in doing so, as she might thus 
 incur the enmity of bad or misguided men, but Danger 
 went often in this world hand in hand with Duty. 
 
 Then she should be aiding her lover in his plans, his 
 duties, his ambitions ; and her eyes kindled, and her 
 cheeks glowed. This consideration would have swept 
 away any small conscientious obstacles, if such there were. 
 And, besides, she had her own ambition. She would 
 rather, of course, marry John Andre, plain captain though 
 he was, than a King's son ; but still she fully sympathized 
 with his craving for distinction and glory. That thirst 
 for Fame which is "the /fo-tf infirmity of noble minds," 
 she was not above, for him, however little comparatively 
 she cherished it for herself. To see him take that high 
 place to which his natural make and qualities entitled him, 
 and she by his side, a coronet, perhaps, as he had said, 
 encircling her brow, this would be worth toiling and
 
 226 PEMBERTON; 
 
 striving for indeed ! The narrow walls of Helen's cham- 
 ber, as she thus mused, expanded into a palace, the plain 
 Quaker furniture changed into costly mirrors, and silken 
 curtains, and paintings and statues, and through lofty 
 colonnades she moved in queenly attire, and her name 
 was Helen Andre ! 
 
 "Why, Helen, where have you been all this while? 
 Dinner is almost ready. I thought you were out, and have 
 been sitting in the parlor waiting for you to come in." 
 
 Helen came back to her ordinary life with a start, as 
 Isabella entered and thus accosted her. ' ' I have been 
 building castles in Spain, Sis. Pleasant work, is it not?" 
 
 "I think it quite excusable in your circumstances, 
 pretty one," replied her sister lovingly. "I wish this 
 hateful war were over, if only for your sake, ma belle 
 Helene. But, come, let us go down to dinner." 
 
 Helen was rather absent-minded the remainder of that 
 day. One question that she put to Pemberton may show 
 us, however, where her straying thoughts were. 
 
 " Arthur, was not General Lee an officer in the British 
 service, before he took up arms under the Colonies, against 
 the King?" 
 
 "He was." 
 
 "Did not Congress agree to compensate him for his 
 pecuniary loss in making the change ?' ' 
 
 "They did." 
 
 "Was it honorable in him and them?" 
 
 " What's up now?" said Pemberton smiling. " I have 
 not heard you talk so much politics for six months." 
 
 " I am not talking politics, Arthur; I am simply asking 
 for information." 
 
 " Well, if you mean to ask whether I consider Lee acted 
 honorably in coming over to us, I answer, that I do not 
 suppose the mere fact of entering into the King's service
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 227 
 
 binds a man forever after, so that he can never again have 
 a mind and judgment of his own. Lee thought the mother 
 country wrong, and he preferred to fight on the side of the 
 Colonies. Therefore he resigned his commission, gave up 
 his half-pay, and was paid in return thirty thousand dol- 
 lars, and made second in command in the Continental 
 army. It strikes me that it was all plain sailing." 
 
 "Yes but it seems he really lost nothing by the trans- 
 action." 
 
 "I, myself," said Pemberton, "would have liked the 
 look of the thing better, if he had made no stipulations 
 with Congress ; but this, after all, perhaps, is a mere mat- 
 ter of taste." 
 
 " Did not the British officers call him a traitor?" 
 
 "Yes but that charge would not hold. For, when 
 they had him a prisoner, they forbore to press it. You 
 see, Helen, the point was this he resigned his commis- 
 sion and gave up his pay, before taking service with us. 
 If he had not, I would not have given much for his life." 
 
 " I think that shows the scrupulous care with which the 
 King's officers discriminate in all cases involving military 
 honor," said Helen. "And this was a case in which a 
 loyal gentleman had become a rebel. ' ' 
 
 " It certainly was a proof of the good sense of the Brit- 
 ish officers, Helen. And I think this is a ground that we 
 can both unite on. You know I dislike to differ with you, 
 ma belle Helene. ' ' 
 
 " And I with you, Arthur. I don't know what I would 
 not give, if you only thought in this matter as I do. And 
 there is Bella, too" and Helen put her handkerchief to 
 her eyes, for she indeed felt very sadly about it at times. 
 
 "No matter, Helen, sweet," said Isabella, passing her 
 arm around her and kissing her; " all will come right, 
 some time. And if we do not see alike in this matter,
 
 228 PEMBERTON; 
 
 that is no reason why Arthur and I should not love you 
 and John better than anybody else in the wide world." 
 
 And Helen returned the warm, sisterly kiss, and was 
 quieted for the time, if not entirely comforted. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HELEN AND ARNOLD. 
 
 Fair lady, you are bold ; and, by Saint Judas, 
 You need be bold as she who slew Marat, 
 To come on such an errand. 
 
 IN a room on the first floor of his handsome house in 
 Market Street, the same room in which Isabella had ob- 
 tained the pass from Sir William Howe and which had 
 been elegantly fitted up for his office and library sat 
 General Benedict Arnold. 
 
 Affairs had not improved with General Arnold since 
 his conversation with Mr. Pemberton. Congress had 
 done as he had been forewarned had refused to adopt the 
 favorable report of its own investigating committee, and 
 had directed the Commander-in-Chief to institute a Court 
 Martial. Arnold's marriage, however, already arranged 
 for, had gone on. The beautiful and charming Margaret 
 Shippen, a daughter of one of the best families in the 
 State, had become his wife. That he loved her with all 
 the ardor of his passionate nature, there is no reason to 
 doubt. And she loved and admired him partly for him- 
 self, and partly for his high position and his military fame. 
 The brave to the end of time will always be admired by 
 the fair.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 229 
 
 Arnold had rented one of the largest and handsomest 
 houses in the city, had married a wife accustomed from 
 her earliest years to luxury and expense, and was now liv- 
 ing on intimate terms with the highest and most extrava- 
 gant circles of the metropolis. 
 
 And he had no money, save his little stipend of pay, 
 and the uncertain profits of various mercantile specula- 
 tions, which it was scarcely consistent with his military 
 position to have anything to do with. 
 
 It seemed in the very nature of the man to live showily 
 and extravagantly, as if he would dazzle the eyes of men 
 with his prodigality, as he had dazzled their imaginations 
 with his dauntless and almost superhuman courage. 
 But he had no money. 
 
 Bills and impatient creditors came pouring in upon him. 
 He put them off with stories of his large claims upon Con- 
 gress, which when settled would afford him the means of 
 freeing himself from debt. But Congress turned a deaf 
 ear to his constant importunities would not even take any 
 definite action upon his claims. 
 
 As Arnold sat this day in his study, and mused upon 
 these things, his thoughts, for a newly -made bridegroom, 
 were dismal enough. 
 
 "Was it for this he had exposed his life on countless 
 occasions stormed the barriers of Quebec, fought his 
 galleys on the lake, faced the leaden storms and very 
 whirlwind of war at Bemis's Heights? Granting that he 
 had been careless in his accounts, had made entries per- 
 haps not entirely justifiable he had given also of his own 
 services with a careless and lavish hand. Similar services 
 often had been recompensed by kings, with the gifts of 
 titles and large estates but Congress haggled over a few 
 paltry thousands, in the sum which was due him." 
 
 And then his thoughts reverted to those promotions of
 
 2 3 PEMBERTON J 
 
 others over his head, which always inflamed his proud 
 spirit to the utmost. St. Clair what had St. Clair done? 
 Stirling what had he done ? that they should be preferred 
 before him. What had any of them done, to entitle them 
 to stand even upon his level ? 
 
 A gentle tap was heard at the door. " Come in !" he 
 cried, without rising from his seat. 
 
 The door opened. "I called to see Mrs. Arnold, Gen- 
 eral, and finding she was not in, concluded to wait for 
 her a little while. The servant said you were in the 
 library, and I had the unpardonable assurance, you see, to 
 beard the lion in his den." 
 
 It was Helen Graham that spoke, and at the sight of 
 her, the General sprang up, and gallantly handed her to a 
 chair. Helen had been one of the bridesmaids at the 
 wedding, being on quite familiar terms with Miss Ship- 
 pen. 
 
 "My dear Miss Helen, I am delighted to see you," said 
 Arnold. "It was like you to drop in upon me here, and 
 cheer me up a little. ' ' 
 
 " Cheer you up ! " replied Helen, opening her eyes as 
 if wonder-stricken. "What treason to love and the honey- 
 moon !" 
 
 " Ah, Miss Helen, you ladies think that love is all. But 
 here am I, a disabled soldier, which is bad enough await- 
 ing a Court Martial, not from the red-coats, which would 
 be very natural, one would think, considering the in- 
 jury I have done them, but from my own ungrateful coun- 
 trymen." 
 
 Arnold's face flushed he could not talk calmly upon 
 this subject even to a lady, nor avoid talking upon it. 
 
 "Perhaps if you had been serving the King, instead of 
 the Colonies, you would have experienced different treat- 
 ment," rejoined Helen.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 231 
 
 "I have heard that you were a little of a Tory, Miss 
 Helen." 
 
 " If you mean by a Tory, a loyal woman, I am all a 
 Tory, General. And I only regret that so brave a man as 
 you are is not also on the right side. ' ' 
 
 " I suppose it would be a good deal better for me finan- 
 cially, if I were," replied the General bitterly. " I do 
 not think any government on earth, with the exception of 
 this Rump Congress, would have the meanness to treat a 
 faithful soldier as I have been treated." 
 
 "Why then do you submit to it?" asked Helen, lower- 
 ing her voice. "You know how a Rump Parliament was 
 adroitly overturned by a man not so brave and not more 
 influential than you. Why do you not give peace to this 
 distracted country, preserve the Kingdom, and win for 
 yourself the most glorious name on this American Conti- 
 nent ? I ask you why ?' ' 
 
 Arnold gazed intently at her for a moment without re- 
 plying. He seemed to feel that the conversation had en- 
 tered upon dangerous ground. He knew what in his 
 madness he had already done, and he knew not whether 
 this was a simple, natural conversation, or a lure. If the 
 latter, who was the fowler, and on which side of the con- 
 test did he stand ? 
 
 Opening a drawer in the table by his side, he took from 
 it a large, horseman's pistol. Then he fixed his eyes 
 sternly on his visitor, and said in a cold, ominous voice : 
 
 " About a year ago, Miss Helen Graham, a man dared 
 to talk to me, as you are talking now. Do you know the 
 answer I made him ? I said not a word. But I took out 
 this pistol, cocked it as I do now, and levelled it directly 
 at his forehead." 
 
 As Arnold said this he levelled the pistol at the smooth 
 white brow of the woman before him. Helen's cheek
 
 2J2 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 paled, and her heart beat as if it must be heard, but she 
 blenched not a hair's breadth from the line of the barrel, 
 and her face assumed that firm, undaunted look which 
 men of her race had worn in the stormy centuries before, 
 in battle and on the scaffold. 
 
 Still holding the pistol thus pointed, and with his finger 
 playing near the trigger, Arnold continued sternly : 
 
 " He soon understood that hint, and slunk from the 
 room like a cowed spaniel." 
 
 "Indeed !" said Helen scornfully. " But he must have 
 been of some common strain, and not a Graham. I really 
 think I can see the ball in that pistol," and she leaned 
 forward, and put one of her eyes to the terrible muzzle. 
 
 Arnold uncocked the weapon, and laid it deliberately 
 back in the drawer. "Whatever else you may be, Miss 
 Helen, at least you are no coward." 
 
 " Nor tattler either, if I am a woman. I remember well 
 a story my father once told in my hearing. He said that 
 when General Monk was meditating his great project 
 'honest George Monk,' he said the soldiers called him 
 his brother came to see him with a message from the King. 
 ' Have you spoken to any one else on this subject ?' in- 
 quired Monk. ' Only,' replied his brother, ' to your chap- 
 lain, in whom I know you have the greatest faith. ' Monk 
 said nothing, but it was enough ; he listened no further to 
 what his brother had to say, but changed the conversation 
 to unimportant matters. That anecdote I shall never for- 
 get. If I had a message for the King, I should not prate 
 about it even to his most trusted counsellor." 
 
 Arnold seemed lost in thought for a few moments. 
 Then he said abruptly : 
 " Show me your papers." 
 
 " I have no papers. I have burned them, to avoid all 
 risk as I was ordered."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 233 
 
 " Why should I trust you?" 
 
 "Because, in the first place, as you see, I am no 
 coward." 
 
 " Good, so far; I hate cowards !" 
 
 " Secondly, because I am Helen Graham. And, 
 thirdly," and her voice sunk to a whisper while maiden 
 modesty caused it to quiver as fear could not "because 
 I am the betrothed of Captain Andre." 
 
 " Enough !" said Arnold, drawing a deep breath. " I 
 will not say as yet what I will, or what I will not do. I 
 must take time to consider. That I am not pleased with 
 the way things are going, every one may know. That 
 this Congress is but little better than the Rump Parlia- 
 ment, many of our best officers do not hesitate to say. 
 That the French Alliance is a deception and a snare, the 
 whole country is beginning to believe. What a perfect 
 farce that attack on Rhode Island was ! The French are 
 fools on land, and cowards at sea. But how to mend all 
 this? that is the question. If Congress should come to 
 its senses, and resolve to do me justice, I should hate to 
 kick out of the traces. But I will not serve men who 
 seem to consider my most important services as worth no 
 recompense. Such men are neither fit nor able to govern. 
 It is my nature to seek the high rewards of life and I 
 will have them ! If not from one set of men, then from 
 another. But I heard the front door close just now Mrs. 
 Arnold must have come home." 
 
 The door of the library opened, and a very handsome 
 woman entered Tarleton said afterward, when she went 
 to England, that she was the handsomest woman in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 "And so, General, you are having a nice, cosey time 
 with Miss Helen, are you?" cried Mrs. Arnold, in a lively 
 tone. " I must say that I admire your taste."
 
 234 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 "Yes, it is universally admitted now, Margery, that I 
 have an admirable taste in women. Where have you been, 
 Sweet?" 
 
 " Out shopping ; buying a lot of trumpery, as you gen- 
 tlemen say. You look rosy, Miss Helen. Has the Gen- 
 eral been complimenting you ? Do not believe him he 
 is, like all military men, a sad deceiver. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, he has been very far from employing his time so 
 pleasantly to me as that. We have had quite a serious 
 talk, have we not, general?" 
 
 "Never had a more serious one in my life," replied 
 Arnold. 
 
 "What! it is getting serious already, is it?" exclaimed 
 the gay young bride. " Ah ! General, I thought you pro- 
 mised me never to flirt any more." 
 
 "I -don't know that I ever promised you anything of 
 the kind, Margery," replied he, half smiling, half serious. 
 " I think there was no necessity of my making such a pro- 
 mise. But as for you, my Bird of Paradise, what security 
 have I that your heart will not fly away some day, and 
 leave me forsaken and disconsolate?" 
 
 " Now, hear the General, Helen ! You would not think 
 from the way he talks, that half the young ladies in Philly 
 were dying for him and when I carried off the prize, 
 could have stabbed me with their knitting needles." 
 
 And so the happy bride rattled on, until Helen, saying 
 that she had stayed too long already, bade adieu, and took 
 her departure. 
 
 And Helen never walked with a prouder and more 
 queenly step than she did that day. She had done some- 
 thing, she thought, for a good cause ; and more, she had 
 done what it would please her lover well to hear. There 
 could be little doubt but that Arnold was the author of 
 those letters. If he were not, he was almost ready to enter
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 235 
 
 into such a correspondence. Nothing but such a change 
 in the action of Congress as was not at all probable, would 
 prevent him, in case the Colonial cause grew no brighter, 
 from gradually settling down upon the loyal side. And 
 he might begin and inspire a defection as momentous 
 in its results as that of General Monk, in the great con- 
 test between Charles the Second and the Long Parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 Of course I am picturing both Helen and Andre and 
 Arnold also as they were, and in the light of their own 
 feelings and convictions. I am not representing Helen 
 as feeling upbraidings of conscience on account of her 
 efforts to overthrow a cause which she believed to be un- 
 just and wrong simply because she felt no such upbraid- 
 ings of conscience. On the contrary, she felt precisely as 
 a young lady on the American side would have felt, who 
 thought she could aid in bringing over to her own party 
 some influential British general. Even were that general 
 Sir Henry Clinton himself, and the result most disastrous 
 to the royal arms, and he be rendering himself liable to 
 the charge of treason, it is not to be supposed that she 
 would suffer very greatly in her conscience on that ac- 
 count. In truth, it is probable that in such a very suppos- 
 able case, the young "rebel" lady in question would 
 rejoice even in proportion to the mischief she was able to 
 work the enemy and that her countrymen would hold her 
 forever afterwards in high esteem, instead of in detesta- 
 tion. 
 
 In all such cases, everything depends upon the point of 
 view. From Helen and Andre's point of view, the whole 
 proceeding looked glorious and honorable. Arnold was 
 a brand to be snatched from the rebel burning. And the 
 result was to be Peace and the lasting Union of the British
 
 236 PEMBERTON j 
 
 Empire on terms entirely satisfactory and honorable to 
 the Colonies. 
 
 Of course, there was another side to the question a 
 very weighty and powerful, and, as it proved, the decisive 
 side but our concern is not with that, just at present. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CAPTAIN FANNY AGAIN. 
 
 I serve both sides, and, serving both, am true 
 
 To both, or neither, as it suits my mind. 
 Enough for me to leave no careless clue 
 
 That would betray me, floating in the wind. 
 
 HELEN had her reply, which was very adroitly and cau- 
 tiously worded, so as not to compromise any one if it 
 should fall into the wrong hands, fully prepared by the 
 time Captain Fanny brought back her articles from the 
 washerwoman. Fortunately, too, Isabella was out, Helen 
 having been indisposed (to go out), in anticipation of this 
 visit, for several days. She led the seeming young woman 
 again up into her chamber, and locked the door, while 
 Fanny took out the pistol, and inserted the little but im- 
 portant roll of tissue paper in the cavity of the leaden 
 slug. 
 
 "Suppose they suspect you, and take the pistol from 
 you ?' ' 
 
 " I shall be on the look-out for the likes of that," replied 
 Fanny. " There is no great harm done by shooting, you 
 know, so you hit nobody. And a woman, besides, my 
 leddy, is not expected sure to aim very straight." Fanny
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 237 
 
 laughed, as if the bad shooting of the female sex was rather 
 amusing to her. 
 
 " I don't know about that. I warrant I could hit you 
 every time at twenty paces," said Helen, who, as is the 
 fashion of high-spirited women, was never much disposed 
 to hear her sex in any way disparaged. 
 
 "And sure I'm not the woman who'd let you try it," 
 rejoined Fanny, "if they do call me Captain." 
 
 "That is a curious name for a woman, especially one 
 so young and good-looking as you are," said Helen. 
 
 "Thanks, my leddy; but it's you who are the beautiful 
 crathure. They call me Captain because who is that ?' ' 
 
 Pemberton's voice was heard in the entry. He was 
 evidently going up to his room in company with another 
 gentleman. 
 
 " Do you remember, Arth, that visit you had from a 
 Quaker preacher ?' ' said a loud voice, plainly heard through 
 the door, followed by hearty laughter from both. 
 
 "It is Mr. Pemberton and Lieutenant Morris," said 
 Helen in a low voice. 
 
 " I thought so. The Liftinant would know me at a 
 glance. He must not see me here neither him nor 
 McLane. I will come either as a man or as an old woman, 
 next time. Will you know me ?' ' 
 
 "I think so." 
 
 " They have gone into the opposite room, I heard the 
 door shut," said Fanny in a whisper. "Plaze look out, 
 and see if the coast is clare. ' ' 
 
 Helen opened the door quietly ; the loud conversation, 
 accompanied with louder laughter, still continued in the 
 opposite room. Helen beckoned to Fanny to come. But 
 the two had just reached the head of the stairs, having 
 closed the door behind them, when the door of Pernber-
 
 238 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 ton's chamber was opened quickly, and Morris came out, 
 walking as if in a hurry. 
 
 " Beg your pardon, Miss Helen, Arthur said you had 
 gone out," cried Philip, as he nearly ran against her. 
 "But I am delighted to see you. Why, is that you, 
 Fanny ? What odd chance brought you here ?' ' added he, 
 evidently in very great surprise. 
 
 "And so you have a personal acquaintance with my 
 washerwoman's servant?" said Helen, covering her con- 
 fusion as best she might. 
 
 "Yes, Fanny and I are old acquaintances are we not, 
 Fanny ?' ' returned Morris, gazing in perplexity from one 
 to the other. 
 
 "Why, what is going on outside here?" cried Pember- 
 ton, opening the door of his room, which Morris had 
 closed behind him. "I thought you had gone out with 
 Bella, Helen?" 
 
 "But you see I have not," answered Helen, a little 
 sharply. " Or else it is my wraith." 
 
 Fanny had not spoken; but now she said, "I have a 
 little message for Mr. Morris, Miss Hilen ; have you any 
 objection to my giving it to him?" 
 
 "Not the least," replied Helen with dignity, as she 
 swept back into her room. 
 
 Morris smiled. " Come in here, Captain," said he, 
 opening the door of Pemberton's room again. " We can 
 then sit down and talk at our leisure. ' ' 
 
 " I suppose you are rather surprised to see me here, Lif- 
 tinant?" said Fanny, after they had entered. 
 
 "Well, rather!" 
 
 "I'm sure I could aisily explain matters," continued 
 Fanny, with an almost imperceptible glance at Pemberton. 
 
 " I suppose you can," replied Morris. " Do not mind 
 my friend Pemberton here, he is just as reliable as I am."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 239 
 
 'I brought the beautiful leddy," said Fanny smiling, 
 "a letter from her lover in New York." 
 
 Philip winced. " From whom?" 
 
 " Captain Andry," said Fanny in a whisper. "It's a 
 mighty good thing to do, for it gives me the best of rasons 
 to go back'ards and for'ards. An' it puts me in the way 
 of picking up news. Did Captain McLane tell you what 
 I told him how the red-coats feared that the Spaniards 
 would soon join us and the Frenchmen?" 
 
 " Yes, McLane told me. When do you go back to New 
 York?" 
 
 "In a few days. I'm waitin' for Miss Hilen's letter 
 to her swateheart. Will I bring it to you to rade before 
 I go?" 
 
 " No !" exclaimed Morris peremptorily, his face paling. 
 
 " I thought ye might be amused with it. His was 
 mighty divarting readin'." 
 
 "There is no need of my seeing the correspondence, 
 Arthur is there ?' ' said Morris, as if on second thought 
 he was questioning what his duty as a Continental officer 
 required. 
 
 " Not a particle, I think," replied Pemberton. "Helen 
 is not acquainted with any suspicious characters and she 
 could not tell Andre anything if she would, more than any 
 common spy could pick up. Besides, lovers generally 
 have more interesting matters than public affairs to write 
 about." 
 
 Morris leaned his head on his hand. All the life and 
 spirit of half an hour before had gone out of him. He 
 had half hoped that in Andr6's absence Helen would 
 gradually forget him ; but here was proof that the love be- 
 tween the two was burning as warmly as ever. He gave 
 a deep sigh. 
 
 "It would be very unpleasant to me, Arthur, to inter-
 
 240 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 fere in the least with Miss Helen's correspondence and 
 I shall have nothing to do with it. I shall leave it entirely 
 to you. It is not a case that I can even trust myself to 
 deal with. If you think there is any doubt as to its pro- 
 priety, please consult McLane or Harry Lee. I am very 
 sorry indeed that it has been my bad luck to know any- 
 thing about it. I must go now, good-bye. Take care of 
 yourself, Fanny." And Philip walked slowly out of the 
 room feeling ten years older than when he entered the 
 house that morning. 
 
 " I will go also, if your honor has nothing further to say 
 to me," said Fanny rising. " Shall I bring you the letters 
 as I git them?" 
 
 "No not unless I send you word to that effect. I 
 suppose Captain McLane knows where you can be found?" 
 
 " Yes, the Captain always knows that. Good-mornin', 
 your honor." 
 
 As Fanny went out, she carefully closed the door after 
 her, and then tapped gently at the door of Helen's cham- 
 ber. A low voice said, " Come in." 
 
 Fanny entered, closing this door also carefully behind 
 her. Helen was seated on the opposite side of the room, 
 gazing steadily out of the window. 
 
 "MissHilen." 
 
 " Well have you betrayed me and him?" 
 
 " I shall niver betray him excipt to save him," replied 
 Fanny in a very low but very earnest voice. 
 
 "What did you tell them?" 
 
 " I was forced to give them the shell, my leddy, in order 
 to save the karnel." 
 
 "What did you tell them?" 
 
 " I told them, my leddy, I was carrying love-letters be- 
 tween you and the Captain." 
 
 "What else did you tell them?"
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 241 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 " You read that letter you brought me I mean the one 
 in the pistol?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "You betrayed the substance of that letter?" 
 
 " Niver !" replied Fanny in an emphatic whisper. 
 
 Helen turned around, and looked her visitor straight in 
 the eyes. " Do you mean to tell me," said she in a low 
 but stern voice, " that you did not betray what was in 
 that letter? Look me in the eyes, girl and answer !" 
 
 Fanny looked her straight in the eyes. " By the blessed 
 Virgin, the Holy Mother of God, and by God himself, I 
 swear I did not !" 
 
 Helen walked to her jewel case, and took out a gold 
 cross, set with pearls. " By this crucifix, on which the 
 Saviour suffered, gemmed with these pearls, which are the 
 tears of Mary, you swear it ?' ' 
 
 " On that crucifix, wet with the tears of Mary, I swx. 
 it!" and Fanny reverently touched with her lips the 
 cross. 
 
 " Enough. I believe you. A young girl like you could 
 not perjure herself, and consign her soul to everlasting 
 flames. But how is it you know Mr. Morris so well?" 
 
 " He thinks, my leddy, that I am a ribel spy. But I 
 only use the ribels. Faith ! I kin turn them round my 
 finger." 
 
 " They will detect you some day." 
 
 " Perhaps. But I don't think they'll harm a woman 
 very much, my leddy, if they do." 
 
 "You say that you had to tell them I was getting let- 
 ters from Captain Andre." 
 
 " How could I hilp it? They knew that something was 
 going on." 
 
 "It is not pleasant but I suppose that must be borne.
 
 242 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 And it may prevent suspicion of more serious matters. 
 Fanny, you will not show that letter I have given you, on 
 any pretence whatever ? I would rather die than have you 
 do it." 
 
 "And I would rather die than do it," replied Fanny 
 vehemently. " Did I not tell you that Captain Andry had 
 saved my brither from that horrid prison ? And that 1 
 niver forgit a favor ? niver ! Besides, my leddy but 
 perhaps you would not like to hear it." 
 
 "Tell me what is it?" 
 
 "I am a poor young girl," said Fanny, and she abso- 
 lutely seemed to blush "and Captain Andry is a noble 
 gintleman and your lover and may you be happy the- 
 gither in the long years to come. But I cannot spake it," 
 said Fanny, hanging down her head. 
 
 " Go on, my good girl," said Helen, her curiosity now 
 thoroughly excited. 
 
 "I was only goin* to say, my leddy that as we see a 
 star, sometimes, so bright and gran' above us, that we pick 
 it out for our star, though we know the star cares naught 
 for us no, never hears or thinks of us poor mortals so 
 mysilf, a poor but honest girl, my leddy, gazes up at and 
 almost worships one bright, gran' man ! It cannot harm 
 him nor me leddy. And do you think I would ever 
 betray him?" 
 
 "My poor, good girl!" said Helen, sadly; "take this 
 cross, and wear it, for his sake, and for mine." 
 
 "May the good heaven bless you," replied Fanny, 
 hanging the cross by its ribbon around her neck, and con- 
 cealing it in her bosom. "And now, if you will plaze 
 write me a show letter, in case they should want to see 
 what you have sint to the captain, I'll go." 
 
 "A good idea that, Fanny," said Helen. "And I will 
 make it strong," thought she to herself, "so that if Mr.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 24-} 
 
 Morris insists upon reading it, much pleasure may he de- 
 rive from it." 
 
 When the letter was written and sealed " strong " in- 
 deed in expressions of attachment, but without address or 
 signature, save the single letter H. Fanny concealed it in 
 a twinkle about her person, manifesting considerable sleight 
 of hand ; and then bidding a respectful adieu, she quietly 
 opened the door, and succeeded this time in descending 
 the stairs and leaving the house, without interruption. 
 
 When Fanny got out into the street, she walked along 
 in a very composed manner until she had reached a more 
 unfrequented part of the town. Then she began to smile, 
 and finally almost to shake with suppressed laughter. The 
 whole affair had delighted Francis Malone whom we have 
 spoken of in the feminine gender, in accordance with his 
 assumed name and character as much as anything of the 
 kind that had happened in the course of the war. It was 
 just such occurrences as these, that lent to his occupation 
 as a spy such zest and flavor. The last scene especially, 
 in which he had gone out of his way to represent himself 
 as enamored of Captain Andre, seemed to him one of the 
 most felicitous strokes he had ever made. 
 
 "I clinched it then," said the captain to himself. 
 " She'll never doubt me after that. It was jist the thing 
 to go down with a woman ;" and the captain laughed this 
 time outright, so heartily that if any one had been near, 
 he certainly would have thought him a little crazy. " She 
 wouldn't have been quite satisfied with the truth, that Cap- 
 tain Andry did save little Barney from the jail bless his 
 ginerous heart for it ! and so I tipped her somethin' more 
 in her woman's way. Oh, if I could only tell it it's most 
 too good to kape." 
 
 So Captain Fanny went home to her, or his, lodgings, 
 in high good humor ; while Helen sat in her chamber, till
 
 244 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 her sister came in, musing over all that had passed. Fanny's 
 fervid admiration for Andre did not seem to her woman's 
 heart at all wonderful and perhaps if Fanny had really 
 been a woman, it would have been neither curious nor im- 
 probable. As it was, it did a great deal to strengthen 
 Helen's trust in Fanny's reliability. Helen was a keen- 
 witted woman, and yet she had more faith in the senti- 
 mental falsehood that had been told her, than in the other 
 true but more prosaic statements. She was right however 
 in her reliance on Fanny's integrity, if she was wrong in 
 crediting one of the principal reasons given for it. 
 
 As to the divulging of the fact that she was correspond- 
 ing with Andre, she cared little that either Pemberton or 
 Philip knew it. She had detected in the latter some grow- 
 ing germs of hope, and she was not sorry, both for his 
 sake and her own, that they should be thus rudely crushed. 
 She liked Morris very much, and now perhaps he would 
 be satisfied to be to her as a loving friend and brother. 
 
 As to Pemberton, he knew through her sister of their 
 engagement for Bella never could keep anything long 
 from Pemberton and therefore would not wonder that 
 Andre should seek to correspond with her. And both 
 Pemberton and Morris could be depended upon to keep 
 her secret from the outside world. So Helen came to the 
 conclusion that things were not going on so far very badly, 
 after all and her countenance was quite serene and placid 
 when she met Pemberton an hour or two after at the din- 
 ner table. Of course, neither of them then or afterwards 
 made any allusion to what had occurred.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 245 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ARNOLD THE TRAITOR. 
 
 What am I doing worse 
 Than did famed Caesar at the Rubicon, 
 When he the legions led against his country, 
 The which his country had deliver'd to him? 
 Give me his luck, that other thing I'll bear. Wallenstein. 
 
 In the same library where the interview had taken place 
 between Helen and General Arnold, the latter was again 
 seated. He was writing a letter to a lady in Boston. It 
 read as follows : 
 
 "About three months ago, I was informed that my late 
 worthy friend, General Warren, who was killed at Bunker 
 Hill, left his affairs unsettled ; and that, after paying his 
 debts, a very small matter, if anything, would remain for 
 the education of his children, who, to my great surprise, I 
 find have been entirely neglected by the State. Permit 
 me to beg your continuing care of the daughter, and that 
 you will at present take charge of the education of the son. 
 I make no doubt that his relations will consent that he 
 shall be under your care. My intention is to use my in- 
 terest with Congress to provide for the family. If they 
 decline it, I make no doubt of a handsome collection by 
 private subscription. At all events, I will provide for 
 them in a manner suitable to their birth, and the grateful 
 sentiments I shall ever feel for the memory of my friend. 
 I have sent to you by Mr. Hancock five hundred dollars 
 for the present. I wish you to have Richard clothed 
 handsomely, and sent to the best school in Boston. Any 
 expense you are at, please call on me for, and it shall be 
 paid with thanks. Yours, very respectfully, 
 
 "BENEDICT ARNOLD."
 
 246 PEMBERTON j 
 
 Having sealed the letter, and addressed it to Miss Mercy 
 Scollay, of Boston, Massachusetts, Arnold leaned back in 
 his chair. " It seems rather amusing for a man like me" 
 such was the tenor of his thoughts "who can hardly 
 find money enough to pay for his marketing and clothes, 
 to be playing the benefactor, but I cannot let poor War- 
 ren's children suffer. Massachusetts, Republic-like, may 
 forget her own gallant son ; but I, his friend, cannot for- 
 get him ; he, the chivalrous and gentle ! Poor, noble 
 Warren !" 
 
 The door of the library was opened, and a servant 
 ushered in Mr. Pemberton. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Pemberton. Take a seat. I was 
 just thinking about you, and how you came on with the 
 collections. ' ' 
 
 "Not very well, General, I am sorry to say," replied 
 Pemberton, taking a seat. " I drew up a paper as you sug- 
 gested, and headed it with my own name for a hundred 
 dollars, but beyond one or two little contributions, scarcely 
 worth the going after, I have done nothing." 
 
 "That is strange," rejoined Arnold. " They all know 
 that Dr. Warren behaved most gallantly, and was the life 
 of the Cause in Boston for years. ' ' 
 
 "All admit that, but some say that it is the business of 
 Massachusetts to care for his children, others say Congress 
 should do it." 
 
 "And in the meantime, I suppose, his children must go 
 naked. It is a mean piece of business, Mr. Pemberton." 
 
 " Others say they have given, and given, for one thing 
 and another this day for some one of their own citizens, 
 then again in aid of the soldiers until their funds and 
 patience are alike exhausted. Besides, the Ball in honor 
 of the French Alliance is to take place soon, and the sub' 
 scription papers are out for that. ' '
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 247 
 
 "D n the French Alliance!" exclaimed Arnold 
 
 fiercely. "I hate the French! When I was a boy I 
 pulled trigger on one of them, because he had the impu- 
 dence to come courting my sister Hannah. You'd have 
 laughed to see him streaking out the window. I should 
 think the cowardice or treachery those French monkeys 
 showed at Newport, would be enough for men with a grain 
 of common sense in their heads. ' ' 
 
 "I think you are unjust to our Allies, General," replied 
 Pemberton earnestly; " the storm off Rhode Island was a 
 bad one, as is shown by the fact that the English fleet also 
 had to put back to New York. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, they might well do it, for their end was attained. 
 And then to think of D'Estaing's impertinence, in putting 
 out that proclamation to the French Canadians, to return 
 to their allegiance to the French King. That shows which 
 way the French ideas are drifting. But for my part, if we 
 must have a foreign master, I would rather have old Eng- 
 land, badly as she has acted, a hundred times over, than 
 those slippery, frog-eating Frenchmen." 
 
 "It was, of course, an unwise and ill-considered step in 
 D'Estaing and the folly of it has no doubt been by this 
 time represented to the government at Paris but still, 
 General, the French Alliance is a great thing for us. The 
 British might be in this city now, but for that. ' ' 
 
 " Well, I have no great objection to it. But I think it 
 more sensible to wait until the French really do something 
 worthy all their display of ships and men, before getting 
 up balls in their honor, with the money that should recom- 
 pense our own brave soldiers." 
 
 " Have you sounded Congress relative to a pension for 
 the Warrens?" 
 
 " Somewhat, and I think they will do something, or at 
 least they say they will though they are great liars, be-
 
 248 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 tween you and me. They promise that the children shall 
 have a Major General's half-pay, dating from the time of 
 the Doctor's death." 
 
 " I thought they could not refuse." 
 
 " No it wasn't likely they'd refuse. But they have a 
 way of never doing things, that amounts to about the same 
 thing. It's not very different whether you starve your dog 
 to death, or knock him on the head at once." 
 
 " How about your own claims, General?" 
 
 "They are trying the starving plan on me. I have 
 enemies in Congress, sir. I see them clearly through the 
 grass, but the weather is too cold for them to bite. But 
 they keep up a constant hissing, sir a constant hissing. 
 This Court Martial is their work, and it pleases them all 
 the better that the exigencies of the service prevent its 
 being held. Of course I shall be acquitted when it is held 
 but until that time I am under a cloud. My enemies 
 know this Reed and the rest of them." 
 
 ' ' So far as I for one have had influence, General, I have 
 used it in your favor," said Pemberton. " I think you are 
 occasionally too impulsive and rash both in speech and 
 action you will pardon me, I know, for speaking frankly 
 but I would have had Congress overlook all these little 
 things, in consideration of the great services you have per- 
 formed to the country." 
 
 Arnold held out his hand. " Thank you, Mr. Pember- 
 ton, both for what you have done in my behalf, and for 
 your frank speech just now. I know you have been my 
 true friend, and I shall never forget it. As for me, I am 
 as God made me. If I were not impulsive and rash, I 
 never should have led that expedition to Quebec, or aided 
 in bagging proud Burgoyne. ' ' 
 
 "I know well," replied Pemberton, "that men's high- 
 est virtues and their greatest errors are often curiously con-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 249 
 
 nected together seeming to grow often out of the same 
 root." 
 
 "Mine do, lam sure," replied Arnold. "Mr. Pem- 
 berton, if ever in the future I do that which you think 
 worthy of blame, pray judge me as leniently as you can. 
 Will you not?" 
 
 "I will," replied Pemberton. "It is one of my prin- 
 ciples of action, to think as charitably as I can of all men 
 and their deeds ; and of you whom I have known so well, 
 and admired so much, I shall always think most char- 
 itably." 
 
 "Thank you!" 
 
 "As to this matter of the Warren subscription," con- 
 tinued Pemberton, " I think there is no use in doing any- 
 thing further at present. I will let you have the sum I 
 have myself subscribed, at any time you wish it ; and will 
 do more as it is needed." 
 
 Shaking hands, Pemberton left the room, accompanied 
 to the door by Arnold. The latter then returned to the 
 library, and resumed his interrupted musings. 
 
 " Was it likely the Colonies could succeed ? If they 
 did, would France be in fact their master, as well as ally ? 
 Was even Independence desirable, if England would aban- 
 don her odious pretensions, and grant them self-govern- 
 ment in all local affairs? And as to himself which was 
 the best for him ? Was there any prospect of further 
 honors and of wealth, if he adhered still to the colonies, 
 and they were triumphant ? Would they not come out of 
 the struggle terribly exhausted utterly poverty-stricken? 
 And how then was he to live in a manner becoming his 
 position and his wife's position? 
 
 " If he should imitate in some degree the role of Monk, 
 and be able to throw the game into the King's hand 
 what then ? Would he be Viceroy, with corresponding
 
 250 PEMBERTON ', 
 
 dignities and estates ? Duke of Connecticut perhaps ? Or, 
 if not Viceroy, at least one of the American House of 
 Peers ? How his young wife would adorn a Court ! And 
 himself he felt in his soul the power to rule. He could 
 not court the populace he was too much of the Coriolanus 
 mould for that but he could accept a position from the 
 King, and prove that he was as able to rule as to fight. 
 
 "But to imitate the example of Monk, required a Monk's 
 opportunities. He had no command. In order to play a 
 great part, he must have a separate command and time to 
 win over his officers and soldiers. 
 
 "The hour too must be well chosen. An auspicious 
 moment, when his defection would almost decide the con- 
 test. It was evident that there were a great many things to 
 think of, a great deal to mature and to plan, before such a 
 step could be taken. 
 
 "If he succeeded all would be well. Success, and 
 such great success, would gild anything. But suppose he 
 should fail ? Then he would be a traitor and an outlaw. 
 Even if he succeeded, of course his old friends in the army 
 would look upon him as a traitor, but that could be borne, 
 for the shrill cry of the disaffected few would be drowned 
 in the loud applause of a whole nation. 
 
 " But if he should fail, and England fail, and the Colo- 
 nies come out triumphant ? It was well to look every- 
 thing honestly in the face. Then he should stand as a 
 double-dyed traitor and even England would not love 
 the unsuccessful traitor, while the World, which always 
 looks at men and things through the eyes of the victors, 
 would confirm the verdict. 
 
 "And if he did not escape, he should be ignobly hung! 
 
 "But that is nothing ! " exclaimed he in a proud tone, 
 his dark thoughts at last finding vent in words. "When 
 I was a boy, and bathed beside the huge and dripping
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 25! 
 
 wheel of the old mill, I feared not to clasp my arms around 
 it, and let it swing me high into the air, although I knew 
 it would plunge me soon again beneath the cold, deep 
 water. The round of that was certain a certain rise, a 
 certain fall. Here rise and fall are both uncertain ; but 
 not for fear of the cold plunge, from which no soul 
 emerges, shall I hesitate. Whatever else God made me, 
 he made me no coward. I have offered death my hand 
 too often, to care that he should take it, sooner or later, 
 now. Failure I fear, and poverty, and men's scorn ; but 
 not death no, not death !" 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A NEW SCHEME. 
 
 If doublet and hose do make a man, 
 Then this is a he, deny who can. 
 
 ONE day, soon after breakfast, a sealed note was brought 
 in to Helen. It had been left at the door, and read as 
 follows though the writing was not remarkably legible : 
 
 "Private. Will Miss Hilen plazecome and see me this 
 morning ? FANNY. ' ' 
 
 Helen knew where her washerwoman lived, having been 
 there once when she engaged her services. There was no 
 reason why she should not go, and making an excuse of 
 some necessary shopping, which she could do on the way, 
 she arrayed herself and started forth. 
 
 Mrs. Malone, the washerwoman, lived in South street, 
 the southern line of the city, not far from the theatre, 
 which had been erected just outside of the city limits, on 
 account of its being prohibited by the very good and
 
 25 2 PEMBERTON; 
 
 somewhat narrow-minded people of that day, as an un- 
 godly and wicked institution. 
 
 When Helen arrived at Mrs. Malone's, she found that 
 lady a very honest and decent woman, by the way 
 hanging out some clothes to dry in the yard attached to 
 the dwelling ; and, upon asking if a young woman by the 
 name of Fanny boarded with her, was, with a smile, po- 
 litely requested to walk into the house, where she would 
 find her. 
 
 But, upon entering, much to Helen's surprise, the only 
 occupant of the room was a young man, who started up 
 briskly and came toward her. 
 
 " I wished to see a young woman by the name of Fanny," 
 said Helen. 
 
 " I thought your leddyship said you would know me 
 agin when you saw me," replied a voice which Helen im- 
 mediately recognized. 
 
 "Why Fanny, is this indeed you?" exclaimed Helen, 
 gazing at the figure in astonishment. 
 
 " The very same, may it please your leddyship. You 
 see," added he or she smiling, "I am Captain Francis 
 Malone now, and perhaps it would come aisier to you to 
 call me Captain." 
 
 'But you certainly are a man," said Helen, looking at 
 the Captain dubiously. And surely nineteen persons out 
 of twenty would have come at once to the same conclu- 
 sion. Not taller than Helen herself, but lithe, elastic, 
 muscular, clothed in a homespun coat and breeches, such 
 as were commonly worn by the poorer classes at that day, 
 with the hair combed back, and tied with eelskin into a 
 long queue, Captain Fanny really presented the appear- 
 ance of quite a bright-looking and well-made young man. 
 
 " I think, my leddy, I am pretty well got up," said the 
 Captain. " I have padded out my shoulders you see, and
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 253 
 
 tied up my hair, and, were it not for my voice, I think I 
 might be called a pretty dacent young fellow. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, your voice is rather feminine," rejoined Helen 
 doubtfully; "and still I think I have heard men whose 
 voices were no more masculine than yours is." 
 
 "I'm delighted to hear it," exclaimed the Captain, 
 " the voice is my only wake place." 
 
 " Have you been to New York?" 
 
 " Yes, and got there and back safely, as usual. He is 
 looking splindid" with a passing attempt at a sigh, 
 which did not suit the present attire as well as the female 
 one. "Half the young gals in New York are dead in 
 love with him, his sarvant told me." 
 
 Helen laughed. " Did you bring anything for me ?" 
 
 "Yes, your leddyship, I have a letter in my little steel 
 safety-box up stairs. Will you walk up ; it's more private 
 there?" 
 
 Helen glanced at the masculine-looking figure. "No, 
 I think not. Bring it down here ; these windows are cur- 
 tained, I see." 
 
 "Yes; and my auntie '11 give us notice of any one's 
 coming. I will bring it down to your leddyship." 
 
 The Captain soon reappeared with a small roll, which 
 Helen concealed in a little pocket she had made in the 
 bosom of her dress. "I will read it at home, and bring 
 you my answer as soon as possible," said she, preparing 
 to depart. 
 
 "One word before you go, Miss Hilen. I don't 
 know whether the Major speaks of a little project " 
 
 "The Major?" 
 
 " Bless my soul, and you had not heard it? Mr. An- 
 dry's been promoted and I'll warrant you he'll not stay 
 long a Major even why, he's Sir Henry's right-hand man. 
 Iverybody says that."
 
 254 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " That is good news," said Helen quietly but her eyes 
 shone with an added lustre. Another step upward had 
 been taken. 
 
 " But I interrupted you." 
 
 " I was goin' to say, that perhaps the Major has not told 
 you in the letter, of a little plan that's on foot. We're 
 going to try to bag the rebel Chafe," said the Captain in 
 a whisper, as if the very walls might carry the news abroad. 
 
 "What, Washington?" 
 
 "Yes," said he, in the same cautious tone. "When 
 the great Ball comes off. It's to be at Bush Hill, you 
 know, and they say he'll be there. There's a dozen of 
 us engaged. Half are to be sarvints the other half out- 
 side with the horses. We would push for the head of 
 Chesapeake, where there'll be a vessel waiting. All is 
 fixed but one thing. ' ' 
 
 "What is that?" queried Helen, almost breathless with 
 the boldness of the proposed exploit. 
 
 "All depinds upon his going out into the gardin', away 
 from the house. We want some lady to hilp us and you 
 are the best one we can think of." 
 
 "I !" replied Helen. "How could I help you, even 
 if I would?" 
 
 " You are the handsomest, and the most bewitchin', and 
 the most captivatin' leddy in the city," said the Captain, 
 in his most insinuating voice. " Iverybody says that." 
 
 " I am not acquainted with General Washington," re- 
 plied Helen, coldly, and rather haughtily. 
 
 "But you could git an introduction to him." 
 
 " Doubtful. And I would not care to, for such a pur- 
 pose." 
 
 "Thin, it must all be given up and the war must go 
 on and the ribels perhaps beat us after all. That one
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 255 
 
 nate stroke might save thousands of poor fellows' lives ! " 
 exclaimed Captain Fanny, pathetically. 
 
 Helen thought a moment. Perhaps there was something 
 in her lover's letter about this. 
 
 " Tell those that are planning this desperate scheme, 
 that I will think it over, and give them my answer in a 
 few days. If they can find, however, some other lady to 
 aid them, I should greatly prefer it." 
 
 "I am sartin, my leddy, that when you come to think 
 of it, you will help us," said the Captain. "The Ginral 
 shall not be hurt at all, at all, no more than Ginral Lee 
 was, or Ginral Priscott. And it'll end the war. And 
 you'll do it all, my leddy." 
 
 Helen left the house, walking up the street as if in a 
 brown study, and the captain went up to his room. " She 
 will do it, I'm sure, if the major tills her to," said he 
 musingly. "An* it's a splindid stroke even better than 
 that plan I got up with the ribels to carry off Sir Hinry 
 and which they gave up, because they were fearsome they'd 
 git a worse man in his place. But it '11 stop the war, sure. 
 And I'm almost timpted to blow on them. That would 
 spile my business so. I would if the major was not in it. 
 But you must stick up for your friends, captain and be- 
 sides, I swore to be true to the major, on this pretty cross" 
 and the captain took out the cross from his bosom, and 
 kissed it devoutly. "But it '11 be great fun. That Ball 
 will be worse than a cannon-ball, if it carries off Washing- 
 ton. But they must not hurt him for he's every inch of 
 him, and he's over six feet, a true gintleman." 
 
 And in this way, Captain Malone considered the sub- 
 ject of the proposed abduction, pro and con, from his 
 point of view ; which was different probably from the point 
 of view of any other man or woman in the country.
 
 356 PEMBERTON 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SHALL I DO IT? 
 
 O noble errors ! how ye gem the dark, 
 And prove that even in hell a God is there ! 
 
 WHEN Helen found herself once more in the privacy of 
 her own room, and secured from intrusion by the locking 
 of the door, she took out her lover's letter. She was very 
 anxious to see the business portion of its contents, and yet, 
 woman-like, she perused again and again the many endear- 
 ing expressions with which it opened, and then glanced 
 over to the close, to see with what sweet words it ended, 
 before entering upon a continuous perusal. We need not 
 quote the letter entire, but shall simply give a brief sum- 
 mary of the, to us, more important contents. 
 
 Andre thanked her, in the name of his general, for the 
 important aid she had ajforded them thus far in the mat- 
 ter of " Vasa." A note addressed to Gustavus, and signed 
 John Anderson, was also inclosed, to be placed in 
 "Vasa's" hands, with a request for a reply through the 
 same channel. Then the plan of abduction at the coming 
 ball was referred to, and shown to be feasible, if the gen- 
 eral could only be found strolling in some distant part of 
 the grounds. Helen was not directly asked to take part in 
 the affair, but it was suggested that if some loyal lady 
 would persuade the American commander into a prome- 
 nade in the garden, during the latter part of the festivities, 
 she would aid in the most important manner the loyal 
 cause, and be entitled to the warmest thanks of the King 
 and nation. As to the effect of such a capture, it could 
 hardly be over-estimated. No man could take Washing- 
 ton's place. Even if the loss of his military talents could 
 be supplied, the loss of his high and disinterested charac-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 257 
 
 ter could not be. And strict orders should be given that 
 he was not to be injured in any event. Neither should he 
 be punished in any way for his share in the rebellion. The 
 King was ready to grant a complete Amnesty at the first 
 decisive moment and the Americans should have all they 
 wanted, except Independence. They should have a Vice- 
 roy ; and if Washington would be that Viceroy, he should 
 be made Duke of Mount Vernon, and installed at once. 
 It therefore was not to injure any one, but to save the 
 further shedding of blood, and end the war at a blow, that 
 this plan had been arranged with the warm encouragement 
 of Sir Henry Clinton. 
 
 Such was the purport of Andre's letter. And Helen's 
 brain almost reeled after reading it. She had a right 
 noble and generous nature. Naturally open and sincere, 
 she hated everything that even looked like duplicity. And 
 yet she was evidently regarded as the most available per- 
 son to take a principal part in a scheme involving treach- 
 ery and deceit. Granting that all was fair in war, and 
 that she was a loyal woman, while Washington was a rebel, 
 she was a woman, and therefore outside of the contention 
 and risks of arms claiming immunity from the sacrifices 
 and losses of the war, because she was a woman. What 
 right had these men, with their rough feelings and con- 
 sciences, to plan a part for her a high-bred, truthful wo- 
 man ? Why did not John Andre shield her from this en- 
 tirely as it was evident from the tone of his letter, he 
 had done in part ; the superior power behind him urging 
 him on. She would not would not do it ! 
 
 But then came the revulsion, which every one feels who 
 weighs a great decision. The plan fails the war goes on. 
 Perhaps her own guardian, her own lover falls in the next 
 fight a battle which never would have been fought, but 
 for her delicate scruples. The thought was madness.
 
 258 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 Why should she pretend to be wiser or better than these 
 high-toned, honorable men ? Was not Washington him- 
 self continually engaged in trying to deceive the royal 
 officers, by false letters, false reports, false movements, by 
 deceptions and lies of all kinds, acted and spoken ? Would 
 he not plan in the same way, the abduction of Clinton 
 and, if it succeeded, and through some fair woman's 
 wiles, would not the whole rebel land ring with her praises? 
 
 Helen walked up and down the room in the agony of 
 her emotions first swaying to one side of the question, 
 then to the other. 
 
 At last her eyes fell upon a small velvet-bound volume 
 lying upon the bureau. It was the Bible. And, as many 
 a poor, benighted mortal had done before her forgetful 
 of what the Scripture itself says, that "no prophecy of 
 Scripture is of any private interpretation" she said to 
 herself: "I will open the Bible three times. It shall de- 
 cide my course. Good Father, guide me!" Shutting 
 her eyes, and groping with her hands, she opened the 
 Book. Her eyes unclosed, and she saw where she had 
 opened. 
 
 It was the book of Judith and Judith was standing by 
 the bed of Holofernes, whom she had deceived, with the 
 drawn sword in her hand. 
 
 Helen drew a deep breath. She turned away her head 
 for a minute's space, and again she opened the sacred 
 volume. 
 
 It was the book of Esther, and Mordecai was saying to 
 the Queen : " If thou holdest thy peace at this time, thou 
 and thy father's house shall be destroyed ! " 
 
 " Twice out of three times," she said in a low voice 
 solemnly; "but I will try yet once more." 
 
 Again she opened the book. It was at the story of 
 Deborah, and this was the verse her eyes first fell on
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 259 
 
 " And I will draw unto thee * * the captain of Jabin's 
 army, * * and I will deliver him into thine hand." 
 
 Helen was not unusually superstitious, but there often 
 flows a current of superstition in the depths of the strong- 
 est and sanest minds. She had appealed to the Scriptures, 
 and, as she thought, had been answered Her decision, 
 therefore was made. What she was called upon to do, 
 was not so treacherous and cruel a part as Judith's, and 
 yet Judith had come down in praise through the long 
 generations, because she had forgotten the woman in the 
 patriot. Nor even so cruel as Esther's, for no man was to 
 perish through her agency ; on the contrary, he was to be 
 elevated, if he would, to the highest honor in the land. 
 But it seemed clear to her now that this deed was chosen 
 for her was her destiny. She was to act a principal part 
 in the last scene of the drama, which should end the war, 
 and prevent the dismemberment of the Empire. And, if 
 successful, her name would go down on the pages of his- 
 tory, as that of one worthy to rank with Judith and Esther 
 and Deborah. 
 
 Helen had probably never heard the maxim, "when 
 the time has come for action, stop thinking;" but it was 
 in her brave and resolute nature to do this, through the 
 force of its own instincts. And, having once determined 
 on her course, she washed all traces of emotion from her 
 tell-tale face, smoothed her luxuriant silken hair, and went 
 down calmly into the parlor to wait for dinner. 
 
 Isabella and Arthur were there before her, both too 
 much interested in their own affairs, to ask many questions 
 of what she had been doing. Lovers are not apt to ask 
 many questions not wishing to answer any in return. 
 And the lives of these two lovers were flowing on in the 
 most placid, but most delightful current. It was a long 
 June day with them. They were so happy, that there is
 
 360 PEMBERTON J 
 
 absolutely nothing to tell of them. Even lovers' quarrels 
 were things of which they did not dream. For they both 
 happened not only to be most noble and generous, but 
 very reasonable people. Talking or reading together, and 
 even sitting at times without conversation, Arthur reading, 
 or playing his flute, Isabella sewing, or knitting, or play- 
 ing the *harpsichord for the piano, the enlarged and im- 
 proved harpsichord, was not yet in common use they 
 enjoyed the blissful present as not many lovers, in this 
 imperfect world, are able to do. 
 
 "We were just talking of going to the Ball," said Ar- 
 thur, after a few minutes. " I also bought a ticket for you, 
 Helen ; will you go ?' ' 
 
 " Who will be there a lot of Froggies?" 
 
 " Yes, if you call them that ; though I think you will 
 speak more respectfully of the French, when you know 
 them better. But a number of our own officers will also 
 be there; and, most probably, Washington himself." 
 
 "I should like to see Washington, I confess; that is 
 if I could have a little conversation with him ; if just for 
 one thing, to find out why you and Mr. Morris go off in 
 such a blaze of rockets whenever his name is mentioned." 
 
 "Well, if you will go," said Pemberton, "I will try 
 and give you an introduction. Of course you will be one 
 of the handsomest women at the Ball, and Washington, no 
 doubt, knows a pretty woman when he sees her. ' ' 
 
 "Thank your lordship!" said Helen, with a courtesy. 
 "Your own perceptions of the beautiful need very little 
 
 There is an amusing account of pretty Nelly Custis practising at the harpsi- 
 chord in 1794 : " playing and crying, crying and playing, for four or five hours at a 
 time ;" Mrs. Washington, her grandmother, who was a rigid disciplinarian, hold- 
 ing her steadfastly to her task. Her harpsichord cost one thousand dollars. It 
 had double rows of keys, and looked like a small piano. The harpsichord was in 
 general use as late as that time, although the piano was invented in Germany 
 about forty or fifty years before.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 26 1 
 
 more cultivation. But I think I know one gentleman 
 and he a rebel officer too who could improve even on 
 your compliment. ' ' 
 
 "Very probably," replied Arthur. 
 
 "I could do that myself," said Isabella, "for if Helen 
 will only do due honor to her charms in her dress, I'll 
 wager that she will be the most beautiful woman there 
 and by long odds, the most fascinating. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, you sweet little Sis," cried Helen, throwing her 
 arms around her; "you know well that the most beauti- 
 ful woman at the Ball will be Bella Graham. What do 
 you say, Arthur ?' ' 
 
 " I agree with you perfectly, ma belle Helene" 
 
 "Arthur is such an impartial judge," said Bella, smil- 
 ing serenely. "But wait till Lieutenant Morris comes in." 
 
 "If I go, I mean to dress like a Queen," said Helen. 
 " So that when people ask, who is that? they may get the 
 answer, that is one of the Mischianza ladies. Yes, and 
 I'll copy the Mischianza dress too, for the fun of the thing 
 except, of course, those horrid spangles. ' ' 
 
 "All right," said Pemberton. "A woman as pretty as 
 you are, can do anything. Besides we do not war upon 
 women." 
 
 "And yet a woman's hand has often turned the scale of 
 Destiny," exclaimed Helen proudly. " Joan of Arc, and 
 Esther, and Judith, and Semiramis " 
 
 " Oh, those terrible creatures !" commented Isabella. 
 
 " Names," continued Helen, "that have comedown to 
 us, and will go down to the latest generation, in proof of 
 what the soul and hand of a woman is able to perform." 
 
 "Why, Helen, you look quite the heroine, with that 
 commanding eye and brow," cried Pemberton, laughing. 
 " I shall be careful to lock up all the loose nails and ham-
 
 262 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 mers about the house, lest you treat some of us rebels, as 
 that model heroine, Jael, treated Sisera." 
 
 "For shame, Arthur, how can you talk so!" said Isa- 
 bella reprovingly, as Helen sat down in a little of a col- 
 lapse. The idea of Jael, with her cruel nail, was not 
 pleasant to her. 
 
 "Will Washington really be there?" queried Isabella. 
 "There is very little doubt of it," replied Pemberton. 
 "He certainly is a very handsome man," continued 
 Isabella. " He looks the great man, if any one ever 
 looked it." 
 
 "He looks it, and is it!" exclaimed Pemberton en- 
 thusiastically. "Why, Bella, I positively believe, in real, 
 sober earnest, that he alone upholds our great Cause. I 
 tremble sometimes to think how everything hangs on that 
 one man's life. A chance ball, and where are we?" 
 
 "There are no chance balls!" replied Isabella, fervently. 
 " I am happy in the faith that all is ordered by the Wise 
 Supreme ; and that while Washington has his great work 
 to do, no Indian's sure aim, no Ferguson's matchless rifle, 
 will be able to take him off." 
 
 Helen listened attentively her whole form was agitated 
 with her emotion, though as she took no direct part in the 
 conversation, her sister and Pemberton did not perceive it. 
 "It would almost seem to be as you say," rejoined 
 Pemberton. " Lee was captured, as the result of a piece 
 of recklessness, and, as some of us think, just at the right 
 time. He might have superseded Washington, and lost 
 us everything. Washington committed precisely the same 
 fault when down near the head of Elk, and came off safely. 
 If he had been captured, like Lee, I tremble to think ot 
 the result." 
 
 Helen broke in : " If Washington then should be cap- 
 tured, it seems to me to follow from what you say, that it
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 263 
 
 would be a proof that Providence thought the proper time 
 had come to allow the Royal cause to prevail." 
 
 ' I confess it would almost seem so to me," replied Isa- 
 bella, faithfully holding on to the line of her argument. 
 
 "I don't know about that," said Pemberton with a 
 laugh ; " that is a kind of application of our doctrine, that 
 I for one, I must say, would not be quite ready for. I 
 should be for fighting it out, I am afraid, to the bitter end, 
 trusting that Providence was still working in our favor, 
 though in some mysterious way." 
 
 "Arthur, I do not think you really have any faith," 
 said Helen gravely. " Isabella has faith, and I can un- 
 derstand her ; but I do not like people who carry water 
 on both shoulders in religious matters, as you do." 
 
 "For my part," replied Pemberton laughing, "I think 
 it a very sensible thing to carry water on both shoulders ; 
 when one shoulder gets tired or dislocated, you can then 
 turn to the other. But I think I heard the dinner-bell 
 just now. Allow me to wait on you out, fair ladies."
 
 264 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE BALL. 
 
 "This was the noblest Roman of them all" 
 A Christian Roman ! drawing forth his life 
 From Palestine and Rome ! and lacking this, 
 Or lacking that, had been of lesser height, 
 Less fit to guide and mould the infant State. 
 
 THE evening of the Ball had arrived. The old Manor 
 house of the Penn Family, at Bush Hill then a short dis- 
 tance beyond the suburbs of the city was untenanted, save 
 by an aged negro couple whose business it was to keep the 
 house and grounds in some kind of order, and was chosen 
 as the scene of the festivities. A number of French 
 officers had come on to Philadelphia to pay their respects 
 to Congress taking advantage of the curious inactivity 
 which characterized the campaign of 1779; an d as the 
 Philadelphia of that time, notwithstanding the mixture of 
 the Quaker element in society, was greatly devoted to 
 pleasure-seeking, this Ball had been devised as a means of 
 showing them honor, and promoting the good feeling be- 
 tween the two nations. 
 
 Washington also had arrived, and would be present. 
 The Commander-in-chief did not altogether approve of 
 the mirth and feasting which was so much the order of the 
 day in the Quaker city, but he was very anxious that every 
 kindness and all due respect should be shown to the French 
 officers. Especially was he anxious that it should be done 
 at this time, when the unfortunate affair of Rhode Island 
 still rankled in the popular mind, and tended to reawaken 
 those feelings of dislike and contempt for the French, 
 which had grown up through the animosities of many cen- 
 turies. 
 
 There was a large and gay party assembled at the
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 265 
 
 manor-house of Springettsbury that evening. The man- 
 sion itself was brilliantly illuminated with wax candles and 
 lustres, and adorned with mirrors and paintings and 
 statues, and the intermingled flags of France and the 
 United States; while the extensive grounds attached to 
 the house, with their gravel walks and evergreen arbors 
 and wilderness of shade, including thick groves of cedars 
 and catalpas, were lighted up with Chinese lanterns for the 
 enjoyment of promenaders. Nearly a hundred French 
 and American officers were present, and a still larger num- 
 ber of civilians, including members of the Continental 
 Congress, and other gentlemen of high political and social 
 repute. As we have said, Washington also was present, 
 the centre of admiring and venerating eyes. 
 
 Helen had come, as she had planned, but not in the 
 Mischianza attire. When rallied by Pemberton for the 
 abandonment of that significant costume, she had simply 
 replied that she was a woman, and had her privilege of 
 changing her mind. But it was evident that to whatever 
 reason the change was due, Helen had done wisely so far 
 as the elegance of her dress was concerned. In truth, as 
 Judith arrayed herself in her finest apparel when she went 
 forth to captivate Holofernes, and Esther to ask her favor 
 of Ahasuerus the King, so Helen resolved to spare no pains 
 to increase the effect of her own surpassing charms. She 
 was attired in a beautiful pale-green silk of a shade nearly 
 resembling that which we of this day have seen reproduced 
 under the title of " eau de Nil" fitting closely to her 
 shapely form and trailing behind her, but cut low, and dis- 
 closing the faultless contour of her dazzling white neck. 
 Her white arms also were uncovered from just below the 
 shoulder save as all were hidden by an overdress of costly 
 lace, which covered but only partially concealed her virgin 
 beauty. Around her neck she wore a carcanet of pearls,
 
 266 PEMBERTON J 
 
 with a cross attached to it, and hanging low upon her 
 bosom. And pearls were also entwined in her gold-brown 
 hair, which was worn somewhat high, after the fashion of 
 the time, but unpowdered, and braided like a coronet 
 around her classically shaped head. And from her small, 
 beautiful ears also depended pearls. 
 
 The festivities commenced with a dance in honor of 
 the Alliance between the two countries. Pemberton and 
 Isabella took part in this. It was a double Quadrille 
 which dance the French officers had brought over with 
 them, and which was just beginning to take the place of 
 the more ceremonious Minuet. Four of the eight gentle- 
 men were arrayed in the French, and four in the Ameri- 
 can military uniform ; while four of the ladies wore blue, 
 with American flowers in their hair, and four white, with 
 green scarfs, and artificial fleurs-de-lis. The American 
 officers dancing with the ladies that represented the 
 French, and the French officers dancing with the ladies in 
 blue. 
 
 As the company crowded to the sides of the room to 
 make space for the dancers, Helen found herself, very lit- 
 tle to her own surprise, but apparently very unpremedi- 
 tatedly, quite close to Washington. She was surrounded, 
 as was apt to be the case, by quite a company of admirers, 
 and this, together with her liveliness and wonderful beauty 
 of face and form, evidently attracted the notice of the 
 General. Helen was in splendid spirits. Never had she 
 shone more brilliantly than on this evening. That her 
 excitement was not entirely natural, did not detract from 
 its power. She was intoxicated with the excitement of 
 her bold design for she had agreed to act the part which 
 had been planned for her, if she possibly could. 
 
 Soon the Alliance Quadrille was over, and the couples 
 engaged in it mingled with the rest of the company. And
 
 OR, OITE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 267 
 
 then Helen felt a touch on her arm, and turned to see 
 Pemberton and Washington standing at her side. 
 
 " Allow me to present to your Excellency, Miss Helen 
 Graham," said Pemberton. Helen made a deep curtsey. 
 
 " Shall I have the pleasure of dancing with you, Miss 
 Helen?" said Washington ; "I see they are waiting for 
 me to lead off." 
 
 Helen signified her assent, and putting her gloved hand 
 in the large, masculine one extended toward her, was led 
 to the head of the principal set. 
 
 Helen was so excited that she could scarcely trust her- 
 self to speak. It seemed hardly regular. His Excellency, 
 many evidently thought, should have begun with Mrs. 
 President Reed, and danced with some twenty other dow- 
 agers before ever thinking of the young ladies. But it 
 was not a clear case of fascination and wilfulness. Wash- 
 ington revered the proprieties, although they were intoler- 
 ably irksome to him at times. But, strictly speaking, this 
 was not a ball in his honor it was in honor of the French 
 and he merely attended as a private gentleman ; therefore 
 he was entitled to exercise the freedom of a private gentle- 
 man. 
 
 He was not apt to make a mistake in etiquette, and he 
 had fully considered all this before he came to the ball. 
 Therefore he felt at liberty to conform to his own inclina- 
 tions. As for dancing itself, he liked dancing with a good 
 partner : and when he got a good partner, he was not par- 
 ticularly anxious to change. He had danced three hours 
 at a time with Mrs. General Green, as it was not at all 
 unusual in those days for a gentleman to dance the whole 
 evening with one partner. In fact, in some parts of the 
 country, it was esteemed almost a slight to the lady to 
 leave her before all the dances were over. 
 
 Helen gradually regained her composure as she went
 
 268 PEMBERTON } 
 
 through the short, dignified steps of the stately minuet 
 with the General, and soon was quite ready to take advan- 
 tage of the pauses of the dance, to keep up an animated 
 conversation. They talked of the new dance the quad- 
 rille of the weather, and of all those various topics which 
 well-bred gentlemen and ladies use to keep up the shuttle- 
 cock of conversation on such occasions. Then, after half- 
 an-hour or so, Helen requested to be led to a seat, saying, 
 with an arch smile : 
 
 "I want to get home safely this evening, General and 
 if I monopolize you too long, some of these beautiful 
 ladies will never forgive me." 
 
 Washington smiled. " How adroitly you young ladies 
 can manage things. Now I know there is some young 
 gentleman around, who wonders how long I am going to 
 take advantage of my position to appropriate you." 
 
 " That might be true, your Excellency and does jus- 
 tice to your penetration but it happens to be otherwise. 
 There is not one young gentleman in the room for whom 
 I care, in the way you allude to, a silver button." 
 
 " Then I shall claim your hand for another dance before 
 the evening is over, for I have quite taken a fancy to you, 
 Miss Helen." 
 
 " Thank you," said Helen, inclining her beautiful head; 
 " you do me much honor. And I shall be greatly pleased 
 to dance with your Excellency again, toward the close of 
 the evening. You will not forget it?" 
 
 "I never forget engagements," replied Washington 
 smiling. " Now I will leave you and see if I really am so 
 popular among the young ladies as you say. Who is that 
 standing talking with Mr. Pemberton?" 
 
 "That is my sister Isabella, Is she not beautiful?" 
 exclaimed Helen in her enthusiasm for her sister. " She
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 260 
 
 will be delighted to dance with you. It will ' do her 
 proud,' as the school girls used to say at Bethlehem." 
 
 "I think she looks very much like you only with a 
 difference. She looks graver, and less less " 
 
 " Volatile and giddy ; thank you, General." 
 
 " Impulsive, was the word I was seeking. Do not for- 
 get that dance." And Washington walked, in his stately 
 way, over to her sister. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of the General ?" asked Pem- 
 berton, coming up to her, as Washington led Isabella to a 
 place in a new set. 
 
 "I wish you would take a seat by me here on this 
 lounge, Arthur, and keep off everybody. I don't feel like 
 conversing with any one just now, I've got a bad head- 
 ache." 
 
 " I am very sorry, indeed. Can I not get something " 
 
 " What a foolish man ! I mean the figurative head- 
 ache, which ladies get when they do not wish to be 
 bothered." 
 
 "Oh, "said Pemberton, smiling. "I feel very much 
 flattered indeed. But I suppose our apparent tete-a-tete 
 will keep others off, and your bad headache will keep me 
 off, and so you will be unmolested in the very midst of so- 
 ciety. I am glad you have a beautiful sister, not subject 
 to bad headaches, at least when I am about." 
 
 Helen made no answer. Her eyes were following Wash- 
 ington and Isabella through the stately dance or rather 
 Washington, for she did not even see her sister. He was 
 certainly a grand figure. Attired in a complete suit of 
 black velvet, with the exception of the pearl-colored waist- 
 coat, and with a dress sword at his side, he was the most 
 stately and dignified man that Helen had ever seen. 
 
 And she liked him. His face was calm, grand, serene 
 and when he smiled, it lighted up with a most beautiful
 
 270 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 and benignant expression. And he also evidently liked 
 her would perhaps have danced with her all the evening, 
 had she been willing to allow it. 
 
 Helen was in no mood just then for sportive conversa- 
 tion. The thought of what she had agreed to perform 
 and what she still meant to perform had grown in one 
 short hour very unpleasant to her. Judith had persevered 
 to the tragic end, and without the least womanish shrink- 
 ing of heart ; but would she if Holofernes had resembled 
 Washington ? 
 
 This man doubtless was engaged in a bad cause, but, 
 like Arthur, and Morris, and so many others whom she 
 personally knew, he was honest and sincere to the very 
 core. It was not pleasant, however right and expedient, 
 to carry out such a design as she had agreed to aid, when 
 such a man was the object. 
 
 But yet this awful war and its possible consequences to 
 those she loved best. She saw now how it was that this 
 one stately figure, like a Doric column, held up the entire 
 edifice of the Rebellion. He once removed, and the 
 whole evil structure would come down. And it was for 
 his good also, as for the good of all that of the Colonies, 
 and that of the whole Empire. 
 
 Her brain seemed to reel under these conflicting plead- 
 ings of the mind and heart. But she must not disappoint 
 her friends she must not disappoint her lover she must 
 persevere in her purpose. 
 
 They were handing around some refreshments. " Please 
 get me a glass of water," said Helen to Pemberton. " I 
 cannot drink wine just now." 
 
 Pemberton left her, and at that moment one of the negro 
 waiters came up to her with a cake tray. He was slightly 
 made, and of a tolerably dark color, though with none 
 of the usual African features. As Helen took a cake
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 271 
 
 out of a basket of silver filagree work, he said in a low 
 voice " Do not forgit. We shall have all ready by 
 twilve." 
 
 Helen started. She recognized the voice at once as 
 that of Captain Fanny. He moved on as Pemberton 
 came back with some water. No one, who was not sus- 
 pecting, could have detected the captain under his negro 
 disguise. It gave Helen a startling sense of the reality of 
 the conspiracy, which was very unpleasant to her. 
 
 Isabella's coming up broke the charmed circle of the 
 apparent tete-a-tete; and the two sisters the acknow- 
 ledged queens of the Ball were thenceforward surrounded 
 by a gay crowd of gentlemen. Helen welcomed it as a 
 relief from her confused thoughts. She altered her deter- 
 mination, and drank glass after glass of wine ; she danced 
 with gentleman after gentleman, even with two of the 
 French officers she smiled, and sighed, and almost 
 flirted and was to the height the charming, fascinating, 
 bewildering being that nature so often sends into the world 
 to set men wild and crazy. 
 
 As the company came out of the supper-room, and pre- 
 pared to resume dancing, Washington again came to her. 
 "Are you ready for that dance yet, Miss Helen?" 
 
 " I have danced and danced till I am almost tired of 
 dancing, and should prove, I fear, a sorry partner. 
 Would not your Excellency prefer a stroll out in the 
 grounds, where we could get a little fresh air this warm 
 evening?" 
 
 Washington immediately offered his arm. "I think I 
 should enjoy that myself much better than the dancing," 
 replied he. 
 
 They walked off together, leaving a disconsolate group 
 of beaux behind them. 
 
 " You seem to have had a merry time of it this evening,
 
 272 PEMBERTON J 
 
 Miss Helen," said Washington, looking down upon hei 
 benignantly. 
 
 "Yes too merry ! I think I should enjoy a little sober 
 and sensible conversation for a change. I am not always 
 so absolutely frivolous, General." 
 
 " If I am not greatly mistaken in my judgment, you are 
 not a mere woman of society, Miss Helen. There is a 
 depth of tone in your voice, which no mere worldling's 
 voice ever has. And these are times to call out the deep- 
 est emotions, both of men and women." 
 
 " Oh would that this cruel and unhappy war were over !" 
 exclaimed Helen, almost passionately. "You must hate 
 war, General any one can see that in your face. Why 
 then not agree to a peace ?' ' 
 
 " I do to use your own strong expression, my child 
 hate war," replied Washington. "And gladly would I 
 aid in making peace. But the road to Peace, I am sorry 
 to say, lies just now through the smoke and carnage of the 
 battle-field." 
 
 " I do not see it so; I do not see it so," replied Helen, 
 with animation. "I know from what the British Com- 
 missioners said to me and to others when they were in the 
 city last year, that England is ready to grant every de- 
 mand of the Colonies. ' ' 
 
 " Except one!" said Washington with brevity. 
 
 ' ' I suppose your Excellency means Independence but 
 that was not one of the original demands. ' ' 
 
 " No. But the war has opened our eyes to its necessity. 
 It has awakened those who thought themselves only chil- 
 dren, to the proud consciousness that they are really men, 
 and that the parental rule should of right cease. If we 
 were to agree to resume our allegiance, in the course of a 
 few years the struggle for Independence would force itself 
 upon us. It is the part of wisdom, as it seems to me, to
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 273 
 
 persevere, especially as the French and Spanish alliances 
 make our success, if we do not grow faint-hearted, abso- 
 lutely certain." 
 
 They had been walking up and down, at first, amid or 
 near a score of other couples ; but Helen had purposely 
 directed their course toward the outer paths of the grounds. 
 Now they were near the extreme limit, where, amid a small 
 grove of cedar trees, an arbor had been placed, with a 
 couple of seats, and a small table between them. Helen 
 knew the place by description well, it was the very spot 
 agreed upon, being not only close to the rear entrance, 
 but in the most shaded and secluded portion of the 
 grounds. 
 
 " I feel tired, ' ' said she ; " shall we sit down a moment ?' ' 
 
 They took seats, with the little table between them. 
 
 "You spoke, General, of the French Alliance," said 
 Helen, resuming the conversation. "I, for one, cannot 
 forget for how many centuries France and Spain have 
 been our almost natural enemies, and the enemies of the 
 Protestant cause. Has the King of France grown to love 
 Republicanism of late, that he has joined the Colonies, or 
 is it not rather the old hatred against England and Pro- 
 testantism flashing out, according to the wise maxim, 
 ' Divide and conquer' ?" 
 
 "I do not suppose that the King of France acts from 
 very philanthropic motives," replied Washington smiling ; 
 "but when a man is struggling in the water, he is not 
 generally very curious as to the motives of the man who is 
 trying to help him out. The good service is the same. ' ' 
 
 " And having helped him out, what if he says, ' now do 
 as I bid you, or I will throw you in again?' " 
 
 "If that time should ever come, certainly he would be 
 even then in a better position than before, for he would 
 be at least on his feet, and on the land."
 
 274 PEMBERTON; 
 
 " This French Alliance seems to me positively wicked, " 
 continued Helen earnestly. "Providence cannot smile 
 on it. Your Excellency has heard, doubtless, of that acci- 
 dent, as some call it, at the dinner given by Monsieur 
 Gerard to the French officers, last week?" 
 
 "I heard a brief allusion to it. What was it?" 
 " The lightning struck the house, in the midst of their 
 festivities, melted the very silver spoons and plates they 
 were using, stunned half the company, and killed one of 
 the French officers outright. Should not that be a warn- 
 ing?" said Helen excitedly. 
 
 "Yes, my dear child, I think it should be. I think 
 Monsieur Gerard should profit by living in the same city 
 with your wise Dr. Franklin, and have a lightning-rod put 
 up before any further damage is done," replied Washing- 
 ton with a grave smile. 
 
 " Do you not believe then, General, that Providence 
 interferes in the affairs of this world ?' ' 
 
 " Of course I do. But you will find it, my dear girl, 
 impossible to regulate your conduct by omens. For in- 
 stance, this is one ; but then, as you doubtless know, an- 
 other stroke of lightning melted the crown on Christ 
 Church steeple. And the falling snow deadened the 
 noise of our surprise of Colonel Rahl at Trenton ; and the 
 coming up of a sharp frost aided us to escape from Corn- 
 wallis at Assunpink Creek, and to fall upon his rear at 
 Princeton. Therefore, you see, the omens are by no 
 means all on one side." 
 
 "The Rev. Mr. Tennent, a very good man, as Mrs. 
 Pemberton once told me, was struck by lightning in the 
 streets of Philadelphia, and was not injured in the least. 
 Not even the smell of fire was upon his garments, though 
 the silver buckles at his knees and on his shoes were 
 melted," rejoined Helen.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 275 
 
 "And many a bad man doubtless also has been struck, 
 and received no damage ; while numberless good men and 
 women, and innocent children, have been killed." 
 
 "I cannot help believing there is something in these 
 things, these natural or Divine interpositions," said Helen, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "Why, my dear girl," said Washington, smiling kindly 
 on her, " if I had attended to my premonitions, I should 
 not have been here to-night." 
 
 Helen started, and gazed eagerly into his face. 
 
 "All day," continued Washington, "I have felt an un- 
 accountable depression, an omen, some might think, of 
 impending evil. But should I stay away from this ball, 
 and say that I was frightened by an omen ? My duty lay 
 just here, and that should be enough for any man. I did 
 do one thing, I brought along my Guard, as a prudential 
 measure, which, perhaps, I should not otherwise have 
 done." 
 
 " I think you ought to have attended to your feelings 
 as Mrs. Pemberton, who is a Quaker, would say and have 
 stayed away." 
 
 "What! and missed making your acquaintance, Miss 
 Helen ? Why, I am not so old but that I would run a 
 little risk to have a nice talk with a charming woman. 
 Of course I cannot talk much with men. I must keep up 
 my dignity with that presuming sex. ' ' 
 
 Helen glanced at her watch. It was half- past eleven. 
 Twelve was the appointed hour, but they might think it 
 expedient to anticipate it. And she had not yet positively 
 determined what she would do. Could she betray, even 
 for his own good, this noble man, who evidently liked her, 
 and would trust her to the utmost. 
 
 "General," she continued, "one thing more I should 
 like to say. Of course it is a woman's idea, but I think it
 
 276 PEMBERTON; 
 
 could be realized. I should like to see the Colonies have 
 their just rights. I should like to see them united, with 
 their own American Parliament, composed of a House of 
 Commons and a House of Peers. I should like to see a 
 Viceroy of native birth, some man of commanding appear- 
 ance, talents and character, who should be ennobled, hold 
 his office for life, and represent the King. And I should 
 like that man to be George Washington." 
 
 For the first time Washington's eyes gazed keenly upon 
 the beautiful woman before him, as if he half suspected 
 she spoke the words of others. But he recovered his 
 equanimity in a moment, and said simply, with a pleasant 
 smile : 
 
 " My dear Miss Helen, how little you understand me. 
 Putting aside the question of Republicanism, I have posi- 
 tively no desire for such honors as you speak of. What 
 little ambition I had once, has been completely dissipated 
 by my experience during the last three years. To be in a 
 high position is to have one's motives constantly impugned, 
 to have the wisest actions misconstrued, and be the con- 
 stant prey of anxiety and care. Did I not think it my 
 duty to serve my country in the position where she has 
 placed me, I would resign my present rank to-morrow. 
 You spoke of Peace ! How gladly shall I welcome it, and 
 return to the calm pursuits and pleasures of private life. 
 Viceroy of America ! Such a position would have no 
 charms for me. I long for rest, not for power and splen- 
 dor. Give me a homespun dress rather than purple 
 robes. ' ' 
 
 Helen gazed up into his face with admiration not un- 
 mingled with awe. This man was too kingly to covet the 
 crown of a king. He was the Roman Cincinnatus come 
 back to earth. She started as she heard a tread, but it 
 was simply a servant bearing a silver waiter, with some
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 277 
 
 ices and wine upon it. It was Captain Fanny. He set 
 down the waiter on the table between them, and poured 
 out two glasses of the wine. As he poured the wine, he 
 caught Helen's eye for a moment, and shook his head, as 
 if signifying that she was not to drink it. 
 
 " Marse Cadwal'der said, gib his compl'mens, an' say 
 dat wine was de werry best old Madeery he eber tasted. ' ' 
 
 " Tell him I am very much obliged to him for remem- 
 bering me," said Washington. 
 
 Helen sat a moment as if stupefied. The whole con- 
 certed plan flashed before her. S^he was to possess herself 
 of Washington's sword for so powerful a man might not 
 easily be mastered, even if approached from behind. And 
 it was evident that to make assurance doubly sure, this 
 wine had been sent drugged, doubtless, with laudanum, 
 or some other powerful narcotic. Washington spoke to 
 her, but she made no reply. She heard his voice, but 
 she did not comprehend his words. She sat gazing out 
 before her, as if her eyes were fascinated by some horrible 
 object. 
 
 Receiving no answer, Washington put out his hand and 
 took up one of the glasses of wine. But before he had 
 time to put it to his lips, Helen sprang forward wildly 
 overturning the table with its contents, that went crashing 
 upon the ground, and striking the wine-glass from his 
 hand shrieking, " a snake ! a snake !" 
 
 Washington started to his feet, put his left arm around 
 her, and with his right, after vainly looking about for a 
 meaner weapon, drew his sword. 
 
 "Is it gone? is it gone?" cried Helen, breathlessly. 
 " Oh, let us not stay here a moment longer; let us hurry 
 to the house." 
 
 "Are you certain you saw a snake?" asked Washing- 
 ton, as they made their way toward the mansion.
 
 278 PEMBERTON; 
 
 " Oh, I am so frightened," said Helen. " I was never 
 frightened at a snake before. But it was horrible, hor- 
 rible, horrible !" 
 
 A number of persons had heard the shriek, and they 
 now gathered around the General and Helen inquiringly. 
 
 " Miss Helen thought she saw a snake," said Washing- 
 ton, with a smile. "Why, what is the matter?" ex- 
 claimed he, as he felt Helen's weight begin to drag on 
 his arm, and, looking around, saw she was sinking to the 
 ground. 
 
 Helen had fainted. The terrible excitement of an even- 
 ing passed under such circumstances, and culminating in 
 the drugged liquor and her change of purpose, had proved 
 too much for her highly sensitive organization. 
 
 Washington was possessed of immense strength, and 
 disregarding all offers of assistance, he took the fainting 
 girl up in his arms as if she had been a child, carried her 
 into the house and laid her upon a sofa. Then, directing 
 the anxious crowd to stand back and give her air, while 
 Isabella, who had hastened up, unloosed her clothing, he 
 calmly took a seat on a chair near her. 
 
 In a few minutes Helen began to revive. She partly 
 opened her eyes, as if to see who was near her, and seeing 
 Washington, feebly put out one of her arms, and laid her 
 hand in his. But, as she recovered consciousness more 
 completely, she seemed to recollect where she was and 
 the proprieties, and gently withdrew it. 
 
 " I am sorry the snake gave you such a fright, my dear 
 child?" said Washington tenderly. 
 
 "Snake !" cried Isabella, opening her large eyes even 
 wider; " Helen doesn't care for snakes. She once killed 
 a rattlesnake in the woods near Bethlehem, while all the 
 other girls ran screaming away." 
 
 "This was a very large snake," said Helen, in feeble
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 279 
 
 accents. "And it had no rattles either. It was a mean, 
 miserable, horrible anaconda ! ' ' 
 
 "I think we had better get Helen home as soon as we 
 can," said Isabella to Pemberton ; " she is evidently quite 
 unwell, and wandering in her mind." 
 
 And so the carriage was ordered, and, supported be- 
 tween Pemberton and Washington himself, Helen was 
 taken to it, and put in ; his Excellency bidding her good- 
 bye in the most affectionate manner, and telling Pember- 
 ton to be sure and let him hear the next day how she was. 
 
 As the carriage drove off, Washington turned to the 
 officer of his Guard, which latter lounged about near their 
 horses, some ten or twelve picked men. 
 
 "Any strangers around here to-night?" asked the 
 General. 
 
 " Not very many. A couple of wagon-loads of rather 
 rough-looking fellows from the country, and some people 
 I judge living in the outskirts of the city ; all come to see 
 the show, they said." 
 
 " What has become of the countrymen?" 
 
 "They drove off, a while ago, laughing and swearing; 
 something seems to have amused some of them and irri- 
 tated the others, very much." 
 
 "Get your men ready; I shall leave in a short time," 
 replied Washington, and re-entered the house. 
 
 As he leaned back in his carriage, and rode home, soon 
 after, Washington was cold and silent, replying briefly to 
 President Reed, who rode with him, as if desirous of being 
 left free to commune with his own thoughts. He sus- 
 pected something of the true state of the case, and that he 
 had possibly escaped a snare ; but he was not a man given 
 to hasty conclusions on slight premises, and he knew how 
 apt the imagination is to run away with the judgment. 
 "In any event, she repented at the last, and the danger
 
 280 PEMBERTON j 
 
 is now all over, ' ' was the unexpressed conclusion to which 
 he arrived ; and though the subject frequently recurred to 
 his mind in the course of the night, his return to camp 
 the next day, and the important duties which there 
 awaited him, soon crowded all further recollection of it, 
 and all thoughts of Helen Graham except at distant in- 
 tervals from his mind. What the fate of America would 
 have been, had this bold scheme to capture him succeeded, 
 we think hardly admits of a question. There was no 
 other man who could have held in check the discordant 
 factions, united all in one vigorous opposition to the Brit- 
 ish rule, and by the force and grasp of his unequalled 
 judgment preserved the armies of the infant Republic in 
 the hour of weakness, and led them in the hour of promise 
 to ultimate and enduring triumph.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 28l 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 RUNNING THE GAUNTLET. 
 
 Men are my counters, and I play the game 
 With red or blue. My winnings are the same 
 If red king conquer, or blue sweep the board; 
 All goes to make my triumph and my hoard. 
 
 WHEN Helen came down to breakfast the next morning, 
 she looked as well and as blooming as ever. She expected 
 an avalanche of questions from Pemberton, but it was not 
 possible to avoid it, and therefore she thought she might 
 as well meet the onset at once, and have it over. Scarcely 
 had she and Isabella taken their seats, than Arthur began. 
 
 "I am -delighted to see you looking so well again, Miss 
 Helen. I feared last night that you were about having an 
 attack of some serious illness. ' ' 
 
 "I feel pretty well again, Arthur, thank you," replied 
 Helen. "Do you think it will rain to-day? It is very 
 cloudy. ' ' 
 
 " It does look lowering. I should not be surprised if it 
 rained cats and dogs, or even snakes," added he, smiling. 
 
 Helen had managed up-stairs to avoid an explanation 
 with her sister, but now Isabella broke in : 
 
 "Of all ridiculous things, Helen, the idea that you 
 should faint at seeing a snake ! I would not believe it, 
 unless unless ' ' 
 
 "The snake were to tell you so," added Arthur, now 
 laughing outright. 
 
 "I don't see, Bella, why I should not have the privilege 
 of fainting at the sight of a snake a very big one " 
 
 " A perfect anaconda, with horns," interrupted Pember- 
 ton.
 
 282 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " Just the same as other young ladies," continued Helen 
 demurely, finishing her sentence. 
 
 "Nonsense, Helen, how can you be so absurd!" ex- 
 claimed her sister, a little impatiently. 
 
 " Shall I tell you what I overheard a young lady say?" 
 asked Pemberton. 
 
 " I have not the least wish to hear any of the idle gos- 
 sip of a ball-room," replied Helen, with dignity. 
 
 " She said she did not believe you had seen any snake ; 
 that you had been trying to attract the General's attention 
 all the evening, and simply fainted, in order to have him 
 carry you in his arms into the house." 
 
 Helen straightened herself up indignantly. " If that 
 young lady will tell me that to my face, I will box her ears 
 for her," exclaimed she, her eyes flashing. 
 
 " That would never do, Helen ; every one then would 
 be certain that you had not fainted at the mere sight of a 
 snake. ' ' 
 
 "Arthur, there is no use in teasing Helen any more," 
 said Isabella appealingly. " She is too sensible a girl to 
 faint for nothing ; and if she does not choose to tell us, 
 why I, for one, am very well content to know nothing 
 about it." 
 
 Helen was sitting next to her sister, and at these words 
 she put one arm around her, and leaned over and kissed 
 her. " Bella, you are a perfect woman," she said fondly, 
 " and I'm only sorry there is not a man in the world who 
 even begins to be worthy of you." 
 
 "That is so !" said Mrs. Pemberton heartily, who had 
 been employed in pouring out the coffee and chocolate. 
 
 " My own opinion also, to a notch," added Pemberton. 
 
 " And Isabella is perfectly right as to your teasing Helen, 
 Arthur," continued Mrs. Pemberton. 
 
 "No doubt you are right, mother," replied Arthur
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 283 
 
 laughing. " But I really believe myself, that Helen was 
 decidedly smitten with Washington, and he with her ; and 
 if he were a younger man, and there was no Mrs. Wash- 
 ington and plenty of snakes there is no telling what 
 might happen." Arthur seemed to enjoy the matter 
 hugely. 
 
 "I was very much pleased with General Washington, 
 indeed," said Helen, with dignity. "I thought him one 
 of the grandest and noblest men I had ever seen, and I 
 felt honored that he seemed to like me." 
 
 " Oh, my ! what are we coming to?" cried Pemberton. 
 " Such a good Tory as you used to be, Helen, and he the 
 very head and chief of Rebels. What would Captain 
 Andre say ?' ' 
 
 "Captain! Major, if you please," replied Helen, 
 proudly. 
 
 "Major, indeed! why who told you that, Helen?" 
 asked Pemberton. 
 
 "A little bird brought me the news." 
 
 "Are you certain it was not the snake? Well, lam 
 very glad to hear it ; but what would the gallant Major 
 say, to hear you talk thus of the chief of the Rebels ?' ' 
 
 "I regret very much indeed that General Washington 
 is a rebel," said Helen. 
 
 "And so do I," joined in Mrs. Pemberton. 
 
 "But rebel as he is," continued Helen, "mistaken as 
 he is in that one great respect, I should be false to my- 
 self, if I did not confess the very highest respect and ad- 
 miration for him. And if John Andre knew him, I am 
 sure he would say the same. ' ' 
 
 " I will not tease you any more after that, Helen," said 
 Pemberton; " I really have not the heart to do it. Only 
 admire Washington, and you may faint at all the snakes
 
 284 PEMBERTGN , 
 
 at Springettsbury ; all of which I expect could be put into 
 a good -sized thimble. ' ' 
 
 The conversation here diverged in another direction, 
 and Helen, having run the gauntlet, was allowed to rest 
 in peace. Those who know what most family gauntlets 
 are, may think she got off very easily. But not every 
 Helen has a sister like Isabella, to speak the right, sisterly 
 word at the right time for her. Oh, ye brave and kindly 
 hearts that read this, will you not oftener imitate Isabella ; 
 and interpose your shield when some unfortunate sister or 
 brother is running the family gauntlet ? 
 
 Breakfast over, Helen felt that she must try to see Cap- 
 tain Fanny. No arrangement had been made for such a 
 meeting, but she had little doubt she would find her at 
 Mrs. Malone's, as usual ; and as the lowering clouds had 
 lightened, and gave every indication of breaking away, 
 she donned her street attire, and leaving the house by the 
 garden, proceeded down to South street. 
 
 Mrs. Malone was, as before, in front of the house. She 
 did not receive Helen with her usual good-humored smile 
 and salutation, but appeared to eye her rather suspiciously. 
 To her question if Fanny were at home, she answered in 
 the negative but said that Fanny's mother, who had 
 come to town for a few days, was inside, and perhaps 
 could tell her how soon she would be in. 
 
 As Helen entered, she saw the old lady in question sit- 
 ting by the fire, as if its heat were pleasant to her aged 
 frame, though the morning was rather warm than other- 
 wise. She seemed a much older woman than Mrs. Ma- 
 lone the thin gray locks straggling out from under her 
 white cap, while her form was bent, and she moved feebly 
 and as if with pain. 
 
 " Will Fanny soon be in ?" inquired Helen.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 285 
 
 "And is it you, me swate, that is Miss Hilen Gra'me?" 
 asked the old woman. 
 
 "I am Helen Graham." 
 
 "Will, me swate, Fanny lift a missage for ye. She 
 wants to know, me swate, be you playin' her true, or be 
 ye playin' her false ?' ' 
 
 " How dare she tell you to ask me such a question as 
 that ?' ' replied Helen, indignantly. 
 
 " Don't get angry now, me swate, "said the old woman, 
 in a thin, tremulous voice; "but, after the last night, 
 Fanny says she's afeard of you. An' she wint off, list you 
 should sind a file of sogers for her this mornin'." 
 
 "She is not in the least danger," answered Helen, her 
 sincerity expressing itself in every tone and feature; "I 
 am not in the habit of betraying people. Tell her that 
 she might be sure of that, after last night." 
 
 " I will till her at wunst for sure an' I b'lave she's jist 
 up-stairs, my swate," said the old woman ; and she rose 
 from her seat, and made her way up the stairs, with rather 
 more agility than Helen had thought possible in one ap- 
 parently so infirm and decrepid. 
 
 Some time elapsed, and as Helen heard only one person 
 moving about in the room above, and no murmured conver- 
 sation, she began to wonder at the delay, and question 
 whether Fanny really were in the house. But at length a 
 step was heard on the stairs, and Fanny herself came trip- 
 ping down, attired as she waswhen Helen had first seen her. 
 
 "And so you were afraid I had betrayed you, Fanny?" 
 cried Helen, in a half-chiding, half-reproachful tone. 
 
 "It is best to be on the safe side, my leddy and you 
 broke your promise to the party." 
 
 "There was nothing said about drugging, Fanny. I 
 could not sit still and see so noble a man poisoned like 
 a rat."
 
 286 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " He is a very strong man, my leddy and would give 
 half a dozen of the boys a dale of trouble to manage," re- 
 plied Fanny. And then as if with a sudden thought she 
 added "besides, my leddy, you were mistaken, that wine 
 was jist as good, innocent wine as Ave ever gave to Adam 
 in Aden." 
 
 "What did you mean, then, by that look of warning 
 you gave me ?' ' 
 
 " Bless your heart, my leddy, I gave you no look of 
 warnin' I only looked to say it was time for your leddy- 
 ship to git hold of the Ginral's sword," and Fanny gazed 
 straight into Helen's eyes, with that look of perfect inno- 
 cence which some unwise people say that guilt cannot 
 counterfeit. 
 
 Helen of course believed that Fanny was lying to her, 
 but she saw no use in trying to make Fanny admit it. She 
 had had sufficient experience of that kind of people, 
 to know that it would be labor wasted. So she simply 
 said, 
 
 "Did any one recognize you in your negro disguise, 
 Fanny?" 
 
 " Niver a one of them," replied Fanny, laughing. "Oh, 
 but it was capital divarsion. Half a dozen of them officers 
 knew me and the Ginral himself but not one of them 
 had ever seen me as a man, to say nothing of a nagur." 
 
 " When I met you here that day, dressed up like a man, 
 I was not quite certain for a little while myself, whether 
 you were a man or a woman. But I see now that you are 
 really one of my own quick-witted sex." 
 
 "Yes, indade, an' I should scorn to be anything else," 
 cried Fanny, with quite a show of feminine dignity. 
 
 " I suppose however, you find your masculine garb at 
 times a great convenience as well as safeguard." 
 
 "Yes, my leddy, and that is the only raison that could
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 287 
 
 induce me to wear it. It half breaks my heart at times 
 my modesty is so shocked, my leddy. ' ' 
 
 "I should think it would be," replied Helen sympa- 
 thizingly. " Do you go soon to New York again ?" 
 
 "In two or three days, my leddy. What shall I tell 
 them about the plan's failing?" 
 
 " Tell them I found that I was not the right stuff to 
 make a Judith of. But I will write to to him, and tell 
 him myself all about it. I'll bring the letter to-morrow or 
 next day." 
 
 " I don't think, mysilf, you're the right stuff to make a 
 Judy of," said Fanny with emphasis. " And yit it was a 
 splendiferous plan. But then it would o' made an ind of 
 the war, and that would been bad." 
 
 "Bad!" exclaimed Helen. 
 
 " I only mane it would put an ind to a great dale of fun," 
 said Fanny thoughtfully. 
 
 "It is the kind of fun I should like to put an end to,'' 
 replied Helen earnestly, rising to leave. 
 
 " Yes, my leddy, no doubt you are right. It's a terrible 
 state of affairs ; men killin' and slaughterin' each other, 
 jist like so many hogs," rejoined the easily converted 
 Fanny. 
 
 It was as much as the Captain could do, to restrain his 
 mirth until Helen had got beyond hearing distance, after 
 her departure. As he rehearsed in memory her feminine 
 expressions of sympathy, he was delighted beyond measure. 
 If it had been a man, or a woman of his own social rank, 
 whom he had thus egregiously deceived, he would not have 
 been so vastly delighted, but Miss Helen Graham, whom 
 every one knew to be renowned as much for her wit as for 
 her beauty, a woman of women, to have passed himself off 
 on her first as an old, and then again as a young woman, 
 in the course of a single hour, this was a feather in the
 
 ?88 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 Captain's cap indeed, of which he was proud beyond 
 measure. 
 
 As to the failure of the plan to capture Washington, he 
 cared very little about it ; for it had, as we have shown, 
 from his point of view, its bad as well as its good side. 
 Why Helen had acted as she had, now that it was evident 
 she had not gone over to the enemy, puzzled the Captain 
 not a little. It might be that she had taken a sudden 
 fancy to Washington women often did such things. Or 
 she might really have seen a snake, and been scared out of 
 her senses by it the bravest of women were such cowards. 
 But, whatever was the explanation, it made, as we have 
 said, but little difference to the Captain. He had been 
 paid well, and had got through scot-free, and that was 
 enough for him. What now was to be the next game on 
 the table ? Another plan to capture Washington, or one 
 on the other side to bag Sir Henry Clinton ? It mattered 
 but little to the Captain what it was, so it did not touch 
 Major Andre, and one or two others on the British side, 
 and about as many on the American. Whichever party 
 succeeded, he meant to win. The war was a piece of 
 nonsense all around, like a fight at Donnybrook Fair. But 
 it was capital sport for all that, and afforded great room 
 for the display of the Captain's peculiar genius including 
 Vis theatrical ability, his readiness at lying, and his almost 
 perfect impartiality between the contending parties. In 
 the Captain's view, although he never had read Shak- 
 speare, the world was but a stage, 
 
 "And all the men and women merely players."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 289 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 PLANNING TREASON. 
 
 " Whate'er is human, to the human being 
 Do I allow and to the vehement 
 And striving spirit readily I pardon 
 The excess of action. * * * * 
 But not to the traitor can I yield a pardon." 
 
 Max in Wallenstein. 
 
 THROUGH Helen's instrumentality, as we have said, a 
 direct correspondence had been opened between Major 
 Andre and General Arnold. So far, however, nothing 
 very important had come of it. Arnold, it was evident, 
 hesitated to pass the Rubicon. The correspondence was 
 secret, and under feigned names, and he might withdraw 
 from it at any time. And even if he had decided upon 
 imitating the example of General Monk, he was not at pre- 
 sent in a situation to do so. 
 
 It is not a slight matter, even for a man naturally bold 
 and unscrupulous, to desert the cause to which he has at- 
 tached himself, and the friends to whom he is bound by 
 ties of affection and gratitude, and become a villain and a 
 traitor in their sight. And Arnold was not utterly unscru- 
 pulous. His motto, which he had attached to the sign 
 which he hung out, when as a young man he commenced 
 the business of a druggist at New Haven, was Sibi Totique, 
 and the meaning he evidently attached to it was, For him- 
 self AND for all. He was, perhaps, for himself first, but 
 he would rather also be for all. If he had to choose be- 
 tween his own claims and the claims of his country, which 
 would he prefer above the other ? That was not an en- 
 tirely easy question to answer for he had exposed his 
 own life, none more often, in his country's service; and 
 even in the midst of his great pecuniary difficulties had
 
 290 PEMBERTON J 
 
 assumed and regularly paid the expense of educating Gen. 
 Warren's children. 
 
 Arnold, like most men of great force and ability, was 
 too much of an enigma to be deciphered at a breath. 
 
 But his debts were pressing. He could see no way out 
 of his pecuniary troubles. 
 
 One way not the most honorable, and yet not the 
 most dishonorable had suggested itself. And it had 
 failed. 
 
 He had applied to the French Minister in Philadelphia, 
 had stated his great need, and requested a loan, and had 
 been politely but firmly refused. 
 
 He had not said to the French Minister, " the borrower 
 is servant to the lender;" but the French Minister had 
 replied though in kindly terms, for he was a great ad^ 
 mirer of Arnold as if he had said it, and had declined to 
 accept his servitude. 
 
 It had galled Arnold to the quick. His thoughts re- 
 verted again with added impetus to the British oifers. If 
 successful a title, money, high position. But he must 
 dignify these desirable things, even to himself, by the plea 
 of true and real patriotism. 
 
 The country was exhausted. Agriculture was depressed. 
 There was no trade. The Continental money still depre- 
 ciated month by month " faster than a fast horse could 
 trot," was a common saying. Thousands of professed 
 patriots were ready to throw up their hats and welcome 
 the restoration of the royal rule especially if coupled 
 with a substantial abandonment of the obnoxious British 
 claims. All that was needed to inaugurate a rebellion 
 against the rebellion was some decisive success of the 
 British arms. 
 
 If that could be attained without bloodshed as Monk's 
 triumph was attained all the better ; by far the better.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 2QI 
 
 And so a plan gradually evolved itself in the dark 
 depths of his determined and sagacious mind. He could 
 not have a separate command in the field it was not pos- 
 sible. But the Hudson river divided the Middle and 
 Southern States from the peculiarly rebellious East. The 
 strong Fortress of West Point the Gibraltar of America 
 dominated the Hudson river, and the roads by which the 
 Eastern and the Middle States were united. Could he 
 not obtain the command of West Point allow himself, 
 by a well-planned arrangement, to be surprised, and yield 
 up the fort with its defenders, and its stores of military 
 material, without bloodshed ? If a proper time were cho- 
 sen, this might also involve the peaceable surrender of a 
 portion of the allied French and American army. 
 
 On the heels of such a blow, which would naturally dis- 
 hearten the most ardent patriot, let the British commander 
 offer the most liberal and generous terms a full pardon 
 to all, and everything, in fact, except independence. 
 Then he, Arnold, could come out in a manifesto to his 
 countrymen, urging them, as the part of true wisdom, to 
 accept the British offers ; himself, for one, accepting them. 
 Other officers, with whom he should have made interest, 
 would follow suit ; the Continental troops would desert ; 
 the rebellion rapidly melt away; and in one month's 
 time, perhaps, the French army be forced to capitulate, 
 and the British rule be fully re-established. 
 
 If the affair were well managed and successful, he might 
 possibly be suspected by a few, but they would be careful 
 to conceal their suspicions. What rewards should be 
 heaped upon his head by the British Ministry, would be 
 naturally accounted for by his being the first officer of high 
 rank to abandon the American cause, and to renew his 
 allegiance. Washington would, of course, be made Vice- 
 roy, if he did not hold out too long, and were willing to
 
 2Q2 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 accept the position. But he would not accept it any 
 one well acquainted with his character could foretell that. 
 Who, then, more likely to be made Viceroy than the man 
 who had planned the whole movement, and brought it, by 
 his daring and sagacious course, to a triumphant issue ? 
 
 So Arnold reasoned and almost grasped in his imagi- 
 nation at times, a King's delegated sceptre. 
 
 His need of money, his ambition, his love for his young 
 wife, all tempted him. His hatred of Congress, his Court 
 Martial, his fierce anger at the apparent contempt mani- 
 fested for him and his services, all urged him on. What 
 held him back ? Honor faithfulness to his friends, and 
 especially to Washington, who had always been a friend 
 in his hour of trouble the natural dislike of a brave man 
 to change side the fear of possible failure, and of the 
 utter contempt in which he would then be held, especially 
 if his countrymen ultimately succeeded in the contest 
 all these considerations held him to the narrow path of 
 duty. 
 
 Why was it the path of Duty ? Had not Arnold a right 
 to change his mind, and act in accordance with that 
 change? If any British officer had become convinced 
 that the cause of the Colonies was right and just, would 
 it have been wrong in him to desert the British flag, and 
 fight thereafter under the American banner? Had not 
 General Charles Lee done this with the universal acclaim 
 of the most honorable men in the Colonies? 
 
 We answer that General Arnold had a perfect right to 
 change his mind, and to act in accordance with his new 
 convictions. But, before moving a step, he should have 
 resigned his commission in the Continental Army. Honor 
 required that he should be "off with the old love, before 
 he was on with the new. ' ' When his resignation had been 
 accepted, he was once more a free man and had the same
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 293 
 
 right to join the British forces as Beverly Robinson and 
 thousands of others, whose persons were always held sacred 
 when captured by their offended countrymen. 
 
 But all men hate a Traitor. Even those that love and 
 profit by the Treason, can hardly avoid hating the Traitor. 
 For, even if the cause be good which his treason serves, 
 he injures another and far greater cause the common 
 trust and faith of man in man so deeply, that the evil 
 done to universal man far transcends the little benefit that 
 he may confer upon a few. For without that common 
 faith and trust, how shall human society be held together? 
 Even a band of robbers cannot exist without it. And 
 how shall communities and kingdoms exist, and make 
 treaties of peace and commerce with each other, if treason 
 be not considered one of the greatest crimes that man can 
 commit against man ? Human nature instinctively revolts 
 from it, as from a violation of one of nature's most sacred 
 laws a spiritual law of gravitation and human cohesion. 
 
 But it is one of the many curious contradictions gen- 
 erally more apparent than real which meet us in life, that 
 while all men agree in this, they also generally agree that 
 it is perfectly allowable to profit by treason done to an 
 avowed enemy. Just as even an honorable man, if a mil- 
 itary commander, hesitates not to deceive the foe by false 
 reports, cunningly devised letters, insidious actions, so he 
 also profits by the use of spies, and even by the perjuries 
 of traitors, if he can. Washington was one of the most 
 honorable of men, but he never scrupled to use all these 
 means ; though no treason to the British, on anything like 
 so large a scale as that of Arnold's, ever offered itself to 
 his acceptance. If it had, there is little doubt that how- 
 ever much he might have despised the traitor, he would 
 have felt it his duty to accept the treason. In fact, the 
 employment of spies involves nearly the same principle.
 
 294 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 Each party in the Revolution, as in all wars, hung a spy 
 when caught, almost on sight, and without compunction 
 and each party employed spies by the score, if not by the 
 hundreds. What a curious inconsistency ! to hang men 
 for that which you are daily hiring other men to perform, 
 and which you are honoring some, like Captain Hale, for 
 doing ! 
 
 But, as we have said, these contradictions which we 
 find in life and even more especially in the concentrated 
 life of war are more apparent than real. In war the two 
 parties agree, as it were, to deceive each other, to a certain 
 extent. Each General deceives his opponent by false pre- 
 tences of various kinds this is lawful ; it is in accordance 
 with the rules of the game. He may even ask to treat for 
 a surrender, his real object being not to surrender at all, 
 but merely to gain time. But when he deals directly with 
 the enemy, he must adhere strictly to his plighted word. 
 He says it is my right to employ spies. It is your privi- 
 lege to shoot or hang them, if you can. If I can seduce 
 any of your officers from his duty, I shall certainly do so. 
 Of course you will hang him, if you find him out. But 
 when I say in so many words to you, that I will agree to a 
 certain thing, be it a truce, a capitulation, a guarantee of 
 safety, or whatever it may be, then I will hold to my word, 
 though the earth quake and the heavens fall. And this is 
 the rock of Trust in the midst of the false and treacherous 
 waves of war. And the falseness, and treachery, and lying, 
 and deceit, are in a manner justified, for they are mutually 
 understood to be allowable in this terrible and deadly 
 game.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 295 
 
 PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A CHANGE OF SCENE. 
 
 If so them playest with edged tools, beware 
 Sharp edge and treacherous point. 
 
 THE Autumn season of 1780 had come, and the trees 
 along the magnificent Hudson were beginning to array 
 themselves in their yellow and crimson robes, when two 
 gentlemen sat conversing in the private office attached to 
 the headquarters of the British Commander, in the city of 
 New York. 
 
 The war was still undetermined. The British forces had 
 apparently succeeded in reducing to subjection the Caro- 
 linas and Georgia. Gates had been defeated at Camden, 
 and the laurels awarded to him, but not fairly won, at 
 Saratoga, stripped from his brow ; though the gallantry of 
 the regular troops from Delaware and Maryland, led by 
 the brave but unfortunate De Kalb, had maintained the 
 honor of the Continental arms. The allied French and 
 American forces had also made a second failure, their 
 attack on Savannah being repulsed ; one portion of the 
 French fleet soon afterwards setting sail for home, and the 
 other for the West Indies. 
 
 Affairs were not looking bright for the States. Their 
 army was small, and they had no money but the Conti- 
 nental currency, the depreciation of which had become 
 fearful. Seventy dollars now in paper would go no fur- 
 ther than one in silver. And when it is considered that 
 not only provisions and all the munitions of war were to
 
 296 PEMBERTON J 
 
 be purchased with such a currency, but that the troops 
 were to be paid with it at its legal value, it is wonderful 
 how the first could be obtained at all, and how the army 
 could be kept together. It required four months' pay of 
 a private to buy a bushel of wheat, and a common laborer 
 could earn four times the pay of an officer. Of course 
 those officers who had not private means, could not keep 
 up an appearance suitable to their rank ; and cases were 
 not unfrequent when officers would live on bread and 
 cheese, rather than take their share of meat from their 
 men's scanty allowance. 
 
 That mutiny and desertion in such a state of affairs 
 should become common, is not to be wondered at. That 
 a large proportion of the community should become dis- 
 heartened, and ready for peace on any terms, is what might 
 naturally have been expected. Who can wonder that 
 Washington should write at that time to those who had his 
 confidence "The prospect is gloomy. The storm threat- 
 ens. Now is the decisive moment. I have almost ceased 
 to hope." 
 
 There was a probability of France and Spain becoming 
 discouraged, laying the blame of the repeated failures of 
 the allied arms ou the Colonies, and making a separate 
 peace with England. New York had been menaced by a 
 combined attack, but the arrival of Sir George Rodney's 
 fleet had given the British again the superiority at sea, and 
 the attack was postponed. 
 
 At this juncture, a great success on one side or the other, 
 might virtually decide the contest. For if the States were 
 exhausted, England was tired and disheartened by the 
 stubborn resistance she had met with. She had found 
 foemen worthy of her steel chips off her own tough 
 British block and the boast that a few thousand British 
 regulars could march through America from one end to
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 297 
 
 the other, was riddled by the guns that tore the ranks of 
 the adventurous Burgoyne. 
 
 All these facts, and the exact situation of affairs, were 
 well understood by the two gentlemen to whom we have 
 alluded ; for one of them was our old acquaintance, Cap- 
 tain Andre now however Major, and Adjutant-General 
 of the British army while the other was his commander, 
 as well as patron and friend, Sir Henry Clinton. 
 
 "You have everything prepared for your trip, Major, I 
 suppose?" asked Sir Henry, a short and rather corpulent 
 man, with a round face and prominent nose not a hand- 
 some man, by any means, though his countenance indi- 
 cated the possession of much kindness and amiability. 
 
 "Yes, Sir Henry; I am ready to start by to-morrow, 
 early." 
 
 "I am almost disposed to forbid it, even at this last 
 moment," said his Commander. "Were it not for Ar- 
 nold's almost peremptory demand that you, or some other 
 officer of his own mensuration, should meet him person- 
 ally to arrange matters, I would forbid it. It not only 
 involves danger to you, but may provoke suspicion and 
 inquiry." 
 
 "I beg that your Excellency will not think of the dan- 
 ger to me," returned Andre proudly. " I am a soldier, 
 and prepared to take the risks of a soldier's life, in the 
 way of my duty." 
 
 "One thing must be understood, however, fully and 
 clearly," replied his General. "There is to be no going 
 into the enemy's lines, no assuming of a disguise, no car- 
 rying of important papers. You know how careful I was 
 as to this last, in Commissary Clark's case." 
 
 "There shall be nothing of the kind. Sir Henry. He 
 is to meet me on board the Vulture. If he does not come, 
 I shall agree to no arrangement involving the risk of being
 
 298 PEMBERTON J 
 
 considered a spy. I know too well the temper of the 
 Colonists to give them a chance of retaliating for Captain 
 Hale." 
 
 " Retaliating for Hale ! Why, Major, do you not know 
 that they have hung not only Lieutenant Palmer, but at 
 least seven others, since Hale's execution ? I was greatly 
 pleased the other day when Washington asked me to spare 
 that last spy we caught, as I hope it will put an end to all 
 these barbarous hangings. I thank God that I have not 
 put a single man to death in that way, since I have had 
 command of his Majesty's forces." 
 
 "I did not know, I will confess, Sir Henry, that the 
 record of humanity in that respect stood so largely in our 
 favor. For my part, it seems rather inconsistent to hang 
 spies, at the same time that we employ so many. I can 
 conceive how a perfectly honorable man could act as a spy, 
 and I suppose both Hale and Palmer were such but still 
 I have not much liking for that branch of the soldier's 
 profession." 
 
 " Well, my dear boy, take care you keep out of it. 
 But if we have made no mistake in our man, what excuse 
 can he possibly give the rebels for meeting either you or 
 Robinson on board the Vulture? It will certainly cause 
 suspicion." 
 
 "I admit the risk of that, Sir Henry." 
 
 " He will find, when he thinks longer upon it, that it 
 will not do. He will probably propose some other place 
 of meeting. Now, Major, I repeat it again, go neither 
 within their lines nor put off your uniform. You know 
 there is a possibility that he really means to betray us at 
 the last moment, instead of the rebels. ' ' 
 
 " I think not, Sir Henry, But of course there is a pos- 
 sibility of it. For that reason I am the more anxious to 
 meet him, and judge for myself of the honesty of the man.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 299 
 
 If I am entrapped, that will amount to but little but to 
 have a large detachment of the army entrapped, would be, 
 at this critical moment, a very serious matter indeed. ' ' 
 
 " Yes, Major, I see that you must go. And if, when 
 you meet him, you could manage to get something in his 
 handwriting that would seriously compromise him with the 
 rebels, I should not fear so much his backing- out at the 
 last moment." 
 
 " I will try to do so," replied Andre. 
 
 " Of course you will arrange with him the plan of at- 
 tack, so that resistance shall be almost impossible. And if 
 we could manage to surround the Fortress while Washing- 
 ton was there, and capture him also, I think it would 
 finish the war at a blow." 
 
 " If Washington is not there, Arnold might send to him 
 for reinforcements. Knowing the value of West Point, 
 he would probably head them himself; and then if the 
 post should be surrendered just before he arrived, and the 
 proper dispositions made by your Excellency, he might 
 be surrounded and taken prisoner with his whole detach- 
 ment. This certainly would end the war. ' ' 
 
 " Major, you shall be made Brigadier, at least, when 
 that happens," said Clinton warmly. 
 
 "Thank you, Sir Henry. I will not say that I am not 
 ambitious because I am. But I will say that I am per- 
 fectly willing to leave all such questions to your generosity, 
 and that of my King and Country. So far, you have re- 
 warded me beyond my deserts and I am truly grateful. 
 But what shall I say to Arnold ? One great object of his 
 in meeting me, no doubt, is the settling of his reward, be- 
 yond all after cavil. In fact, he hinted in one of his 
 letters, that the ready money would be very acceptable. ' ' 
 
 "No no I am too old a bird to run the risk of 
 being caught with chaff," replied Sir Henry. "He
 
 300 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 must be content with the word of a British officer. That 
 is the reason he so strongly urged that you should come, 
 Major. See what it is to have a reputation !" And the 
 General smiled kindly on his favorite Aid-de-camp. 
 
 "What am I empowered to offer him?" continued 
 Andre. 
 
 " Offer him ,30,000 in case of success, and an equal 
 rank with his present one in the British army. And if 
 the result is, as we trust, the overthrow of the rebellion, 
 tell him that his services shall be duly considered in the 
 appointment of the new officers for the Colonies. As to 
 the general plan of Pacification proposed, you already 
 understand that fully. The Colonies shall have everything 
 they have hitherto contended for." 
 
 " I infer there are other officers who will follow his lead, 
 what of them?" 
 
 " They shall be rewarded in proportion to the extent of 
 their services. I leave all this to your discretion, Major. 
 There probably will not be time to communicate with me. 
 Consult with Colonel Robinson, if you can ; he is a gen- 
 tleman of very solid judgment." 
 
 " I think I understand your Excellency's wishes and 
 views fully, but I will confer with Colonel Robinson when- 
 ever I can. I trust to bring the whole affair to a satisfac- 
 tory issue." 
 
 "And take care of yourself, my dear Major. Do not 
 put yourself into the lion's mouth. He is terribly excited 
 and ferocious just now. What time do you start?" 
 
 " Early in the morning. And I will now bid your Ex- 
 cellency good evening, as I have a number of matters to 
 arrange before retiring." 
 
 "Stay. Give me your arm around to Colonel Wil- 
 liams' s. I promised him to call in at his dinner party, and 
 stay a little while with them. ' '
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 301 
 
 Leaving headquarters, Sir Henry and Andre proceeded 
 a few blocks to the quarters of Colonel Williams, at the 
 ancient bowerie or country-seat of Jacobus Kip. They 
 found there a brilliant assemblage of officers, enjoying 
 themselves with conversation and speeches and songs and 
 wine, who hailed the entrance of their Commander with 
 great applause, and conducted him to a seat reserved 
 for him at the head of the table. Andre remained for 
 a few minutes, interchanging salutations with his many 
 friends, and then turned to leave. Instantly there was a 
 loud outcry all around him, remonstrating against his de- 
 parture. 
 
 "You are not going, Major?" cried his host. "Really 
 we cannot permit it; can we, gentlemen?" 
 
 "No, no, no !" rang from all sides. 
 
 " No such shirking as that !" 
 
 " Stand to your colors, Major !" 
 
 "Face the music !" 
 
 " Drink to your lady-love !" 
 
 " Order him to maintain his position at all hazards, Sir 
 Henry!" 
 
 "Hip, Hip, Hurrah!'-' 
 
 Andr6 turned smilingly from one to another of the lively 
 circle. Then, when room was given for a word, he said 
 pleasantly, "Thank you all, gentlemen; but I have some 
 important business to attend to this evening, and, much to 
 my regret, will have to be excused." 
 
 "Then sing us a song before you go," cried a voice. 
 And "a song from Major Andre! a song from Major 
 Andr6 !" rang around the table. 
 
 "What shall it be, gentlemen?" 
 
 " Sing us Wolfe's chanson, Major, to begin with," said 
 Colonel Williams. This was the little song attributed to 
 General Wolfe, and sung by him on the eve of the battle
 
 302 PEMBERTON J 
 
 in which he died that desperate struggle on the Heights 
 of Abraham. 
 
 "I do not fancy it entirely," replied Andre, "but I'll 
 obey orders" and so saying, he sang in a rich, mellow 
 voice as follows : 
 
 " Why, soldiers, why 
 
 Should we be melancholy, boys ? 
 
 Why, soldiers, why, 
 
 Whose business 'tis to die t 
 
 Whose business 'tis to die 1 
 
 For should the next campaign 
 
 Send us to Him who made us, boys, 
 
 We're free from pain ; 
 
 We're free from pain ! 
 
 But should we here remain, 
 
 A bottle and kind landlady 
 
 Makes all well again t 
 
 Makes all well again !" 
 
 Tumultuous applause followed the song in the midst of 
 which Andre would fain have escaped from the room. 
 But the gay revellers around him would not permit it, de- 
 taining him with rough but kindly hands, " One more 
 song they must have," they said, "and then he might go 
 in peace." 
 
 " Give us something of your own composition this time, 
 Major," cried Colonel Williams. 
 
 "The very idea." 
 
 " Good for you, Colonel." 
 
 " One of your own songs, Major," 
 
 "Do be quiet, gentlemen." 
 
 Again Andre sang and evidently with more care and 
 greater warmth of feeling : 
 
 Oh, soldier, how 
 Canst thou be gay? 
 
 A day, an hour, 
 
 Thou, like the flower, 
 Shalt pass away.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 303 
 
 A ball's sharp crush, 
 A bayonet's push, 
 
 A sword-cut sore : 
 Thy name at call, 
 Or banquet hall, 
 
 Is heard no more ! 
 
 Is heard no more 1 
 
 II 
 
 Oh, lady fair, 
 Oh, lady fair, 
 
 My fears are still ; 
 I cannot die, 
 Beneath God's sky, 
 
 Against God's will. 
 
 From mast and crag, 
 Our red-cross flag 
 
 Still streams on high. 
 Let that float free, 
 O'er land and sea, 
 
 E'en though I die ! 
 
 E'en though I die 1 
 
 Amid the wild applause which followed his song, and 
 this time unopposed, save by warm hand-claspings, Andre 
 left the room. 
 
 "There goes the most popular young officer in the 
 army, Sir Henry," said Colonel Williams. 
 
 "Yes, and justly so. The Major is a second Bayard, 
 ' sanspeur et sans reproche,' " replied Clinton. " I love 
 him almost as my own son.'
 
 304 PEMBERTON 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE. 
 
 Now, by the shade of Hecate, you have chosen 
 A fitting spot for such an ominous deed ; 
 Come, Midnight, hide our presence with thy pall, 
 And make Life mute as Death ! 
 
 IT was about eleven o'clock at night, on the 2ist of 
 September, 1780, when General Benedict Arnold mounted 
 his horse at the White House, the residence of Mr. Joshua 
 Smith, to ride down to the foot of Long Clove, where he 
 had at last arranged to give Major Andre a meeting. It 
 was a dark but calm and beautiful night, the stars shining 
 with even unusual brilliancy ; and the General, attended 
 by a negro servant, rode as composedly along, as if he 
 were going simply on a common journey, and not to one 
 of those momentous interviews which affect for good or evil 
 the destiny of great nations. That Arnold's spirit was as 
 composed as his manner, we should not feel at liberty to 
 say. The risk was too great, the stake at issue too import- 
 \nt, to render such a state of inward quiet probable. But 
 he was a man of iron nerves, and had fully determined to 
 brave the peril, and stand the hazard of the die. With 
 such a man one who was emphatically a man of action 
 a state of composure in the midst of the most desperate 
 enterprises is possible, which men of a more thoughtful 
 and intellectual cast can never hope to attain. 
 
 And so Arnold rode deliberately on through the night, 
 along the river road, and over the rugged hills, and through 
 the deep valleys and ravines which lined the lonely Hud- 
 son, until he came near the appointed rendezvous at the 
 foot of Long Clove mountain. Leaving his horse here in 
 the road with the servant, with directions to await his
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 305 
 
 return, he made his way to the bank of the river, at the 
 spot where he judged the coming boat would land. Before 
 long, gazing intently from the close shelter of a thicket 
 toward the middle of the river, he discerned through the 
 dark a still darker object approaching though with very 
 little noise, for the oars had been discreetly muffled and 
 retired at once to the concealment of a group of fir trees. 
 
 As the bow of the boat grated against the bank, two 
 gentlemen sprung out. As the latter of the two leaped on 
 the shore, he stumbled over a stone or a root, not visible 
 in the darkness. 
 
 "A bad omen that, Mr. Anderson," said the first. 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Smith ; it means that I shall soon regain 
 possession of my property," replied the second lightly. 
 
 "I think you will find the General in the shadow of 
 those firs," said Mr. Smith in a whisper. " Shall I attend 
 you?" 
 
 " Thank you, but there is not the least occasion for it," 
 replied the other, in the same cautious tone, walking for- 
 ward. 
 
 When he reached the firs which were not more than 
 forty or fifty yards distant, though barely visible in the 
 obscurity of the night he beheld what seemed the figure 
 of a man in the deepest portion of the shade. Advancing 
 toward it, he uttered but one word in a questioning 
 tone : 
 
 "Gustavus?" 
 
 " I am he. You are Major Andr6." 
 
 " General, I am very happy to make your acquaintance. 
 It has taken us a good while to get together." 
 
 "Yes. I could not come on board the Vulture; it 
 would arouse suspicion." 
 
 " We are not within your lines here?" 
 
 " No. You are perfectly safe."
 
 36 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " I have no objection to taking a fair risk ; but there 
 are some risks I do not choose to take." 
 
 "I am taking every risk," replied Arnold, with some 
 bitterness in his voice. 
 
 " We are ready to repay you for it." 
 
 " I care not mainly for that," was the reply. Was Ar- 
 nold in earnest, or was this the opiate plea which he ad- 
 ministered to an unquiet conscience ? "I wish to be fully 
 assured that the Colonies, if conquered, shall have all their 
 just rights. 
 
 " I am fully authorized to assure you that they shall. 
 Why, we have been offering these assurances openly for 
 the last year." 
 
 "Everything but Independence?" 
 
 " Everything but Independence." 
 
 "And a full pardon to all who, even at the last mo- 
 ment, shall submit?" 
 
 "A full pardon even to Washington himself." 
 
 " Then with what do you propose to repay me for my 
 risk and my services in this matter?" 
 
 " What do you propose to do?" asked Andr6. 
 
 " To deliver up West Point, with its garrison, and its 
 munitions of war, and its large store of supplies. In other 
 words, to throw that mighty Fortress into your side of 
 the Scales, and determine at one blow, even without a 
 blow, the whole contest." 
 
 "Without a blow?" 
 
 " Yes ; I can so arrange my forces that you shall be able 
 to reach with a picked corps a point which commands 
 Fort Putnam, which is the key of our works. Once there, 
 you will be as completely master as Burgoyne was when 
 he reached the top of Sugar Hill, at Ticonderoga. One 
 ravine left unguarded, or too slightly guarded, and West 
 Point is yours."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 307 
 
 "But is there not a heavy chain or boom across the 
 river ? Our friends tell us so. How are we to pass that ?' ' 
 
 " I have sent one of the main links to be repaired. 
 The chain is now merely tied together, and will yield to 
 the slightest shock." 
 
 "You said, if I understand you, General, that we could 
 take the Fort without loss of life?" 
 
 "With little or perhaps none. I will not expose the 
 lives of my soldiers. Besides, I mean this thing to be 
 kept quiet ; so that while my generalship may be called in 
 question, none shall doubt my good faith. This is neces- 
 sary to the after workings of my scheme." 
 
 " How do you propose to follow up the surrender?" 
 
 "Sir Henry Clinton must immediately issue a procla- 
 mation, offering the most liberal terms such as you just 
 mentioned to the Colonies, if they will lay down their 
 arms ; and a free pardon to all who will embrace those 
 terms. I will immediately accept them, and persuade as 
 many other officers as I can to join me in so doing. ' ' 
 
 "Are any other officers concerned with you in this pro- 
 posed West Point transfer?" 
 
 "Not one. It would be dangerous even to entrust an- 
 other with the secret. But, if things go as I have planned, 
 I believe there are many that will soon join me, especially 
 if I can offer them some ready money. Hundreds of 
 them are without a dollar, even a worthless paper dollar, 
 in their hungry purses and the wives and children of 
 many are suffering for the common necessaries of life. It 
 is time the whole ridiculous nonsense was exploded." 
 
 "We should like to capture Washington also," said 
 Andrd, in a still more cautious tone than that in which 
 the conversation had so far been held. 
 
 "No. I will not do it. He has always been a good 
 friend to me in spite of that cursed Congress."
 
 38 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " We mean him no harm," replied Andre. "We mean 
 only to decide the war, at once and forever." 
 
 " I will not hear to it. I will not see a hair of his head 
 injured," said Arnold peremptorily. 
 
 "So far from injuring a hair of his head, I am con- 
 vinced that it would rest entirely with himself whether a 
 Viceroy's coronet should not repose there. We do not 
 mean to do things by halves, General, if we are trium- 
 phant. We shall never give those Frenchmen another 
 opportunity. ' ' 
 
 Curious heart of man ! Arnold had revolted from ar- 
 ranging to deliver up his Commander and his friend ; and 
 now the hint of Andre's that Washington might be Vice- 
 roy if he pleased, only made him more determined that it 
 should not be done. For if Washington were not made 
 Viceroy, whose claims would be superior to his own ? 
 
 "No," said he; "I will not agree to it. Whatever 
 else I may be, no man shall say that I am ungrateful. I 
 owe no gratitude to Congress it and my country owe me 
 gratitude. But to Washington I owe a debt that I shall 
 never repay with what he would consider the grossest per- 
 fidy." 
 
 " Of course, General, you must judge for yourself in 
 such a matter," said Andre, courteously. "I am merely 
 suggesting these things as a British officer, not as a private 
 gentleman." 
 
 "And, for all this, what shall be my reward?" asked 
 Arnold. "I mean to restore a Continent to England 
 what does she mean to give me in return !" 
 
 "Your greatest reward, General, you must find in the 
 approbation of your own conscience," replied Andre ; "in 
 the proud consciousness that you have laid the wrathful 
 and destructive demon of war, brought peace and pros- 
 perity to thousands of distracted homes, restored concord
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 309 
 
 between quarrelling kindred, and reunited a mighty Em- 
 pire, the bulwark of the Protestant Faith. No mere money 
 can pay you for all this, General." 
 
 " Very true. But a little money nevertheless would be 
 very acceptable to me, as it is apt to be even to British 
 generals and majors." 
 
 "Undoubtedly," replied Andre. "And England is 
 always generous to those who serve her. She is no penu- 
 rious mistress." 
 
 " I should like to serve a mistress of that kind, as a 
 change. Congress is a mean enough master, God knows." 
 
 "I suppose they are poor men, and pay poorly," said 
 Andre. 
 
 "They are mean men, and pay meanly," replied Ar- 
 nold with bitterness. 
 
 "Too hoo oo oo oo " quavered an owl from the 
 branches of one of the firs, as if in delight, or mockery, it 
 was hard to say which. 
 
 Andre started at first, but then gave a low laugh. "It 
 is the bird of wisdom," said he, "come to assist at our 
 conference. ' ' 
 
 " Wisdom ! the wisdom which looks wise as Solomon, 
 but all the time only means mice. We've plenty of these 
 solemn owls among us, especially in Congress, Major. 
 But to come back to business. What may I expect ? You 
 know as well as I do what my risk is. If I am discovered, 
 and fail, a rope from a branch like that" pointing to one 
 just above them "and curses and maledictions, perhaps 
 forever. That is even worse than the rope to a man as 
 ambitious as I am. I will not run this terrible risk for 
 nothing. I mean to be paid well, or give up the whole 
 affair." 
 
 "To-hoo-oo-oo-oo," again hooted the owl derisively, 
 now amid the branches of an adjacent tree.
 
 310 PEMBERTON; 
 
 "D n that infernal bird!" exclaimed Arnold, in a 
 suppressed voice, and feeling about with his foot for a 
 loose stone. 
 
 "What would you consider fair payment, General?" 
 questioned Andre. 
 
 "Fifty thousand pounds, and the same rank in the 
 British army that I hold in our own." 
 
 " I cannot do it. I was instructed to offer you twenty- 
 five thousand. The equality of rank we would agree to." 
 
 "Then we might as well separate. I will not take 
 twenty-five thousand," rejoined Arnold. 
 
 Andre was about to reply, when he saw through the 
 darkness a form coming toward them. It was Mr. Smith. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, "had you not better adjourn to 
 my house, and finish your conference there ? The men 
 are tired and sleepy, and my ague is coming on with this 
 chilly dampness. ' ' 
 
 " No ; I must go back to the Vulture to-night," replied 
 Andr6 firmly. 
 
 "I do not see how you can do that," replied Smith. 
 " The men are tired ; you know the boat is a very large 
 and heavy one. Besides, they say the Vulture is to be 
 cannonaded at daybreak " 
 
 " How is that ?" said Andre quickly, turning to Arnold. 
 
 " It's only some of Livingston's cursed folly. He ap- 
 plied to me for two of my heavy guns, but I did not choose 
 to strip the Fort ; and so he intends blazing away, it seems, 
 with his four pounder." 
 
 "The men will have plenty of time to go and return 
 before the cannonade," said Andre; "besides they have 
 their passes." 
 
 "I have urged all that upon them," rejoined Smith; 
 "but they obstinately refuse to go." 
 
 "I think, Mr. Anderson," urged Arnold, "that, on the
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 31! 
 
 whole, the better plan will be to ride over to Mr. Smith's. 
 If you do not, we may require a second meeting to arrange 
 those affairs, and I do not see that it will be possible for 
 me to give you another." 
 
 'When would I return?" said Andre, seeing the force 
 of Arnold's plea, and unwilling to let so important a nego- 
 tiation fall to the ground. 
 
 "You could return to-morrow night," replied Arnold. 
 " If the Vulture is forced to shift her position, the boat- 
 men would have further to row you, that would be all ; 
 and, if need be, my passes would take you to Dobb's 
 Ferry." 
 
 " I suppose it is the best we can do," commented Andre 
 dubiously. 
 
 "Of course it is," replied Arnold. "Mr. Smith, you 
 can return home in the boat ; Mr. Anderson will accom- 
 pany me on the horse my servant rode. ' ' 
 
 As Mr. Smith hurried away, evidently very glad to es- 
 cape any further detention, Arnold said : "Even if you 
 accepted my offer, I see not how I could explain the de- 
 fences of our works to you here in this confounded dark- 
 ness. At Mr. Smith's I have all our engineer's plans 
 and it would be very important that whoever leads the 
 attacking party should understand the details thoroughly. ' ' 
 
 " I suppose what must be must be," replied Andre, 
 good humoredly. " How far off is this house of Mr. 
 Smith's?" 
 
 "Oh, not so very far. Come this way; I have a couple 
 of horses that will take us there in a twinkling. ' ' 
 
 Arrived at the spot where the horses had been left, they 
 mounted, Arnold giving the negro a five-dollar note, "to 
 buy a dram with," to comfort him for having to walk 
 home. 
 
 "I never carry anything less than five-dollar notes in
 
 312 PEMBERTON; 
 
 my pocket," said Arnold, laughing sardonically. "You 
 can't buy even a glass of grog for less than that, with this 
 cursed shinbone currency." 
 
 Andre made no reply. Their road lay through the 
 woods, which made the night seem darker than before, 
 and it required some care to ride safely. 
 
 " To-hoo-oo-oo-oo. " 
 
 "D n that owl if it is not following us!" ex- 
 claimed Arnold. " If it were not for the noise, I'd send 
 a pistol bullet at it." 
 
 " To-hoo-oo-oo-oo. ' ' 
 
 "It is not very pleasant music to ride by, but I suppose 
 we must submit to it," said Andre good-humoredly. 
 
 They had ridden several miles, and Andre was begin- 
 ning to wonder why they did not reach Mr. Smith's 
 abode, when suddenly he found himself in the midst of a 
 little hamlet, and then the hoarse "who goes there?" of a 
 sentinel broke upon his ear. 
 
 Andre's first thought was, "I am betrayed," and his 
 heart sunk within him ; but Arnold's immediate reply, 
 "Friends," and his utterance of the countersign, "Con- 
 gress," reassured him. Then, the immediate danger 
 over, he grew very indignant. As soon as it was prudent 
 to speak, he rode up to Arnold's side. 
 
 " Did you not understand me, General, that I would 
 not go within your lines ? That was my express stipula- 
 tion with you. ' ' 
 
 "You have your uniform on, under that surtout, have 
 you not ?' ' replied Arnold sternly. 
 
 "Of course I have ; and this is my usual watch-coat." 
 
 " Then what does it matter ? You are just as safe with- 
 in our lines as outside. They could not do more than 
 make a prisoner of you, and they would do that as soon 
 at Long Clove as here."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 313 
 
 " There is more danger here, though." 
 
 "I did not suppose a British soldier cared for a little 
 danger, more or less," scoffed Arnold. 
 
 " Neither do I. But I have a point of delicacy in my 
 share of this business, and that constrained me to insist 
 that the negotiation should take place outside of your 
 lines." 
 
 " If you had so much delicacy of feeling, you should 
 have kept out of the business altogether," exclaimed Ar- 
 nold savagely. "To me such boyish scruples seem non- 
 sense, in view of what you are asking me to do for the 
 King and the Empire." 
 
 There was great force in what Arnold said, as Andre" 
 could but own. His position was delicacy itself compared 
 to Arnold's ; so much so, that it even seemed insulting to 
 dwell upon the subject. But yet the affair left an uneasy 
 feeling in his mind. It was evident that he was dealing 
 with a man naturally and boldly unscrupulous ; and there- 
 fore who might deceive one side as well as the other. 
 
 As Andre rode on silently, thinking of all this, he felt 
 the importance of obtaining some security in Arnold's 
 handwriting that might hold him to his word. Every- 
 thing so far, of a direct character, was in a disguised hand, 
 and under his assumed name. Else the British forces 
 might find West Point only a decoy, and themselves with 
 a strong Fortress in their front, and the whole Continental 
 army in their rear. If they were tricked, they should at 
 least be able to show that they had acted upon reasonable 
 assurances of good faith. 
 
 A traitor's mere word, it was evident, could not be 
 wholly relied upon. If it could, he would not be a traitor. 
 Even treason to a bad cause, seemed to involve this con- 
 clusion. See, Arnold had broken faith with him at the 
 very start. It was a small matter, some might say, but
 
 3 I 4 PEMBERTON; 
 
 where a single acorn falls there is an oak. Andre, as he 
 reflected thus, grew fearful not so much for himself, as 
 for the army and the royal cause. 
 
 " Major," said Arnold, after a time, and in a frank and 
 friendly tone, ' ' I am sorry for what has happened. In 
 fact, I forgot all about that outpost being at Haverstraw, 
 until we had allowed Smith to leave us, and it was too 
 late to reconsider our determination. I am myself as rash 
 as as I am cautious ; but in your place, would think it 
 safer to hold our conference in the privacy of a house, 
 than in such an exposed spot as that we met in. Why, 
 what with the midnight and the darkness, and the river 
 plainings, and that accursed owl, it seemed just like a 
 haunt of conspirators." 
 
 ' Perhaps you are right," returned Andr6, a little coldly. 
 "But how much farther have we to ride?" 
 
 "We are almost there. You will see the white walls 
 even through this darkness before many minutes. Ah, 
 here we are !" And, turning into a little inclosure, Ar- 
 nold pulled up at the door of a medium-sized house, evi- 
 dently belonging to a gentleman of considerable means 
 and pretensions. 
 
 Dismounting, they walked into a well-lighted room, 
 being greeted only by a negro servant, the master of the 
 house not having yet arrived, and his family all being 
 absent on a visit adroitly planned for this occasion. 
 
 "Take a glass of wine, Mr. Anderson !" said Arnold, 
 walking up to the sideboard, and pouring out a glass from 
 one of the decanters which stood there. "It will warm 
 you up a little. The Hudson is a grand river, but I should 
 like it better if it were not so good a place for agues. 
 Poor Smith did you see how he was shaking ?' ' 
 
 Andre took the wine, and then Arnold swallowed three 
 or four glasses in rapid succession. It needed something
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 315 
 
 powerful to brace up his iron nerves. "Now, if Mr. 
 Smith's cook will dish us up something smoking for break- 
 fast, we can go up-stairs, and finish our conference. ' ' 
 
 Talking upon indifferent subjects, they awaited their 
 host's arrival. When he came, they all sat down and par- 
 took of breakfast, and, that over, it being broad daylight 
 by this time, Arnold and Andr retired to one of the up- 
 per chambers, where they could plot and plan unseen and 
 undisturbed. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PRICE OF TREASON. 
 
 We want security, 
 
 That we shall not expend our men and money 
 All to no purpose. Wallenstein. 
 
 BEFORE sitting down to breakfast, as mentioned in our 
 last chapter, the noise of the cannonade opened upon the 
 Vulture, had broken upon the ears of the party at the 
 White House, as Mr. Smith's residence was usually 
 called. And from one of the windows of the second 
 story room in which Arnold and Andre were now seated, 
 they had watched the progress of the cannonade, until 
 they saw the Vulture weigh her anchor, and sail down the 
 river out of the reach of her enemy's fire. Then they had 
 seated themselves before a table covered with drawings and 
 papers, and resumed their conference at the point where 
 they had been interrupted at Long Clove. 
 
 "General," said Andre, "the terms you mentioned 
 are inadmissible. I will give you at once the limit of my 
 powers and then you must accept or reject, as you think
 
 31 6 PEMBERTON j 
 
 best. I am authorized to offer you at the highest, Thirty 
 Thousand pounds, payable within ten days after the sur- 
 render of the Fortress. This is the very best I am author- 
 ized to do." 
 
 There was sincerity in every lineament of Andre's face 
 as he spoke ; and Arnold, though grown habitually dis- 
 trustful perhaps he had always been so knew at once 
 that what he said was the exact truth. 
 
 " I will accept your offer, Major though the sum is, in 
 my opinion, just Fifteen Thousand pounds too small. It 
 being understood of course, that I accept simply because 
 you are not authorized to go higher ; and reserve my right 
 to petition the King for the additional sum, to be granted 
 or not, at his good pleasure." 
 
 " I can see no objection to that," replied Andre. 
 
 "As life is uncertain, Major, and men's memories 
 treacherous, you would oblige me by giving me that prom- 
 ise in writing," continued Arnold. 
 
 ' ' I would willingly do so, but it would be rather a dan- 
 gerous document to have about you, General especially 
 if they should suspect and search you. ' ' 
 
 " I shall be satisfied with an indirect voucher, in your 
 own natural hand," said Arnold, handing him a pen and 
 a sheet of paper. " Write as I dictate : 
 
 "J promise to pay for the Robinson estate, if restored, 
 Thirty Thousand pounds sterling. Mr. Gustavus to have 
 the same Agency as heretofore." 
 
 " It is written," said Andre with a smile. ** Now how 
 shall I sign it?" 
 
 "Sign it, John Anderson, Agent." 
 
 " It will do," said Arnold, also smiling. "It is not a 
 first-class voucher, but it is the best I can trust my pocket 
 and neck with."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 317 
 
 "Now," continued Arnold, "as we have that little 
 matter settled, let me instruct you fully in my plans. Here 
 is Duportail's plans of all the forts ; he is a Frenchman, 
 but a capital engineer, you must admit. You see this dot 
 at Fort Putnam that is a breach through which a section 
 could march abreast ; it is closed just now with a few loose 
 boards. Here is the place where you land and here your 
 path. Once at this spot in strength, and Fort Putnam is 
 yours that taken, all is taken. You will have no diffi- 
 culty in finding guides, I suppose. ' ' 
 
 " Not the least we have scores of refugees in New York 
 from this region ; and they are more earnest, and far more 
 bitter in their loyalty, than even the royal troops them- 
 selves. ' ' 
 
 " And here," added Arnold, " are six important papers : 
 ' Estimates of our forces,' ' Remarks on the Works,' ' Ma- 
 jor Bauman's account of the ordnance on the different 
 forts, batteries,' &c., nearly all in my handwriting, you 
 see. You might take a summary of these, detailed as so 
 many barrels of sugar, with remarks on the condition of 
 the merchandize, which would refresh your memory when 
 referred to." 
 
 "I think I had better take the papers themselves," said 
 Andr. This was the opportunity he had been waiting 
 for something in Arnold's own writing that would hold 
 him, as much as anything could, to his bargain. 
 
 "If these were discovered on you they would betray all, ' ' 
 replied Arnold. 
 
 "I must risk that. There is little danger between here 
 and the river ; and on the river I shall hold them in my 
 hand, tied up with a stone, so that I can sink them at once 
 if necessary." 
 
 " We have had good luck so far, but I am afraid this is 
 tempting Providence," rejoined Arnold, who, like most
 
 318 PEMBERTON; 
 
 men, good or bad, evidently considered the success of his 
 schemes a sure sign that Providence had favored them. 
 
 "This one risk we must run!" exclaimed Andre in a 
 resolute tone. " As you said, a little danger, more or less, 
 is not of much consequence. ' ' 
 
 "Well, be it so!" replied Arnold gloomily. Was it 
 that he really feared the danger, or realized that a with- 
 drawal from his treason was no longer possible to him ? 
 
 "And now," said Andre, " let me go carefully over all 
 these plans. I shall probably lead the attack myself, and 
 am anxious not only that it should succeed, but that, if 
 possible, not a single life should be sacrificed." 
 
 We need not repeat the numerous questions and answers 
 which ensued, before the British officer felt himself com- 
 pletely master of the details of the proposed movement. 
 The very guns and other signals to announce the British 
 progress were agreed upon. When within three miles of 
 the place, two British officers in American uniforms were 
 to ride up at full gallop to Arnold's headquarters, receive 
 his final words, and hasten back to the English commander. 
 Never, perhaps, was a treasonable plot more ably elabor- 
 ated. But "the stars in their courses fought against 
 Sisera!"
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 3Ifl 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A PERILOUS JOURNEY. 
 
 I carry with me England and her fortunes- 
 Give me, you saints, a safe delivery! 
 
 IT was all arranged ; and Arnold had gathered up his 
 charts and plans, and taken his departure. At his earnest 
 solicitation, Andr had secreted the six important papers 
 which he had resolved to keep as a guarantee of the traitor's 
 good faith, placing them between the soles of his feet and 
 his stockings. And now, the British officer, somewhat 
 fatigued from the want of sleep on the previous night, 
 awaited the coming of the darkness to be conveyed back 
 to the Vulture. 
 
 He passed a miserable day, as may be supposed. There 
 he was, in the enemy's lines, liable at any moment to cap- 
 ture. Through his chamber window he could see the Vul- 
 ture, which had resumed her former position. The vessel 
 was lying between three and four miles off, down the wide 
 river, almost at this place a bay in its magnitude, evidently 
 awaiting his coming. Oh that he had the wings of a bird, 
 that he might fly on board, and be once more in safety ! 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon, his host appeared, 
 and disquieted him still further. Mr. Smith alleged that 
 it would be impossible to get him back the same way he 
 had come. The boatmen had been frightened by the 
 cannonade, and obstinately refused to go. He himself 
 was suffering from an ague brought on by the last night's 
 exposure, and it would be as much as his life was worth 
 to venture again on the water. And to these were added 
 the other excuses, reasonable and unreasonable, which a 
 weak man who has obstinately made up his mind not to 
 do a certain thing, always has on hand.
 
 320 PEMBERTON; 
 
 Andre was indignant he demanded to see the boatmen 
 himself; but they had gone off somewhere at least Smith 
 so alleged. He was in fact at the mercy of that gentle- 
 man, and must do as he said, or get back the best way he 
 could without him. 
 
 "Well," said Andre, at length, bitterly, "what do you 
 propose, Mr. Smith?" 
 
 " To cross the river at the Ferry this evening, and go 
 by land," replied that gentleman complacently. 
 
 "What ! in this dress?" exclaimed Andre, glancing at 
 his British uniform. " I should be arrested at the Ferry, 
 as certainly as I reached there." 
 
 " I have provided for all that," replied his host. " The 
 General gave me a pass both for myself and Mr. John 
 Anderson to White Plains, and I have in the closet here a 
 coat and hat which will fit you famously. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Do you know what a risk I should expose myself to 
 by assuming that disguise ?' ' questioned Andre sternly. 
 
 "Oh, there is no danger, Mr. Anderson not a parti- 
 cle. If you meet the Americans, you have General Ar- 
 nold's pass : if you meet the British, all they can do is to 
 cake you where you want to go. I am not a soldier, as 
 you are and doubtless a brave one but even I should 
 not be afraid to take a little risk like that." 
 
 " I will not do it !" said Andre resolutely. 
 
 "What will you do then, Captain?" asked Smith, ven- 
 turing a guess at the rank of his guest ; for Andre's uniform 
 did not denote his precise rank. " I promised the Gen- 
 eral that I would see you safely back ; but of course that 
 depended upon your following my instructions. If you 
 will not do as I wish, of course my door is open, and you 
 can take any other course you prefer. Only do not hold 
 me responsible for the consequences." 
 
 Smith evidently did not know to whom he was talking
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 321 
 
 evidently had no idea of the importance of the business 
 his visitor was intrusted with. Arnold, it was clear, had 
 not taken him into his confidence. If Arnold had not, it 
 would not do for him, Andre, to do it. And yet how 
 could he overrule him, and bring him to his senses, with- 
 out exposing more than Arnold, who knew him, evidently 
 thought safe. Never was man more puzzled. 
 
 If he assumed the disguise, he was acting in the very 
 face of his General's instructions exposing himself in 
 case of capture to the most fearful and dangerous suspici- 
 ons putting himself, even if not captured, in a false posi- 
 tion, from which his inmost soul recoiled. 
 
 But, on the other hand, if he refused to act in accord- 
 ance with his host's counsel, what should he do ? In his 
 uniform, he could not stir out of his room in the daytime 
 without danger and where, in the night, could he find a 
 boat to put him on board the Vulture ? Debating these 
 things in his mind, he walked up and down the room in a 
 turmoil of indecision and indignation. 
 
 His host awaited his decision with ill-concealed im- 
 patience. At last he said, " You do not seem to be aware, 
 Captain, that while you remain in that uniform, you are 
 not only in constant danger of bringing yourself into trou- 
 ble, but also of compromising me. Suppose a party of 
 Lee's dragoons should ride up and discover you do you 
 think they would let me go scot-free ?' ' 
 
 "You might have a little trouble, but General Arnold 
 would see you through harmless." 
 
 "General Arnold, I reckon, wouldn't thank you or me 
 for stirring up this matter. ' ' 
 
 " I can see no good reason why you should not put me 
 on board the Vulture this evening, as originally planned," 
 rejoined Andr6. 
 
 Smith made a gesture of impatience. " Well, I will
 
 322 PEMBERTON; 
 
 tell you," said he. "The men will not go. They went 
 the first time, as I did, because we were willing to put our- 
 selves into a little danger to oblige Colonel Robinson, 
 who you know used to be a great man in these parts. But 
 when they found that it was not the Colonel after all, but 
 you, a perfect stranger, they thought they had been a little 
 tricked. Now there is more danger than then, since that 
 four-pounder is down there ; and they know that any boat 
 that did not show a flag, especially in the night, would be 
 fired at just as soon as seen. ' If the General wants you 
 put on board,' they say, 'let him send his own barge, 
 with a flag, and put you there.' Now, what answer can I 
 make to all this?" 
 
 " I am not in the habit of giving reasons to my men for 
 what I order them to do," replied A.ndre haughtily. 
 
 "Yes, yes, that will do very well in the army," rejoined 
 Smith. " But these men, though tenants of mine, have a 
 will of their own. If it were not that they hate the war, 
 and wish it were all over, one way or the other they don't 
 care much which they would not have gone in the first 
 place. ' ' 
 
 " If you'll find me a skiff", I'll put myself on board." 
 " I should not know where to go to find one. The river 
 guards appropriated every one of them long ago." 
 
 There seemed nothing else to do than to act in accord- 
 ance with his host's suggestion. "I suppose I must do as 
 you think best," at last said Andre, "but it is the most 
 despicable thing that I ever was forced to do in the whole 
 course of my life, and I would not do it now, were not the 
 safety of others involved with my own." 
 
 "You take it too seriously, Captain," returned Smith 
 lightly. " One red coat is just as good as another and 
 better too in this case." 
 
 So saying, he opened the closet, and produced a coat
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 323 
 
 of a dark crimson, garnished with gold lace, a common dress 
 for a gentleman at that period but somewhat faded and 
 threadbare from use. A well-worn beaver hat also was 
 brought forth. Andrd took them and substituted these 
 for his military coat and hat ; the remainder of his dress, 
 nankin waistcoat and small-clothes, with handsome white- 
 topped boots, was allowed to go unaltered. Then, putting 
 over all his well-worn watch-coat, with its heavy cape, and 
 buttoning it closely about his neck, to conceal, as it were, 
 even from himself his hateful disguise, he announced that 
 he was ready. 
 
 It took a little time to get the horses saddled, so that it 
 was almost twilight before they set out, being accompa- 
 nied by a negro servant. They crossed King's Ferry 
 about twilight, Smith stopping to chat and drink with the 
 American officers on the other or eastern side of the river, 
 while Andre and the servant rode slowly onward. 
 
 Between eight and nine o'clock they came across an 
 American patrol, under Captain Boyd, who demanded 
 their errand. Smith showed their passes, and declared 
 aside to the captain, that they were on their way to obtain 
 intelligence for Arnold. 
 
 Boyd said that the road before them was infested with 
 Cow-boys, as the predatory bands of Tories on the neutral 
 ground between the two armies were called, and that it 
 would be madness to go further that night. 
 
 Andre would have pressed on, but Smith thought it 
 safer or less suspicious to take Captain Boyd's advice, so 
 they sought the dwelling of a neighboring Scotchman, who 
 cheerfully offered to give them a night's lodging. So far 
 they had come safely.
 
 324 PEMBERTON; 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 FOR THE THIRD TIME. 
 
 We are such stuff 
 As dreams are made of. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Drawing off his heavy military boots, and divesting 
 himself of his surtout and his coat, Andre was prepared 
 for the night's slumbers. But before extinguishing the 
 tallow-candle with which their host had provided them, 
 Andre turned his back to his companion, and drew out a 
 little miniature from where it hung, attached to a blue 
 ribbon, beneath the linen of his bosom. It was a very 
 striking likeness of Helen Graham, painted from memory 
 by his own hand. Such had been the excitement and 
 deep interest of the last twenty-four hours, that, devoted 
 lover as he was, he had not even thought of his beautiful 
 mistress, much less looked upon her likeness. The im- 
 portant negotiations entrusted to him, his embarrassing 
 personal position, involving not only his own safety, but 
 that of others, and the success or failure of a deeply- 
 planned scheme, pregnant with momentous results, had 
 banished all softer thoughts from his mind. But now, 
 nothing was necessary to be thought or done for his 
 General and his King, and the power of habit asserted it- 
 self first, his brief but earnest prayer, then a glance at 
 the pictured face of his betrothed. 
 
 Andre thought that he slept the sounder and sweeter for 
 both these things and that if he dreamed, he was more 
 certain to be transported in imagination to the side of his 
 lady, to hear the rich music of her voice, to be thrilled by 
 the tender glances of her brilliant and beautiful eyes. 
 Doubtless it usually was so. But the charm this night did
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 325 
 
 not work seemed overpowered by some baleful and malig- 
 nant influence. 
 
 He lay for some time wakeful and watchful. It ap- 
 peared impossible for him to compose his mind so that he 
 could sleep. And when at length his senses settled into 
 unconsciousness, his thoughts still heaved and surged like 
 the waves after, or before, a terrible storm. 
 
 And then at last he dreamed the dream of his life ! 
 For the third time that dream which he had related at 
 the pleasant dinner-table of Mrs. Pemberton, the evening 
 of the adventure on the Wissahickon. He was riding 
 alone. He came to the brow of a gentle declivity. All 
 around seemed familiar to him. He rode on. There was 
 the gigantic poplar, with its immense branches, gnarled 
 and twisted, descending at places to the earth, and then 
 rising again. Suddenly a man in British uniform stepped 
 forth, with presented musket. " Halt !" 
 
 The loudness of this command seemed to awaken him. 
 "It is curious," thought he. "That old dream. The 
 third time. Well, I am glad the fellow was in British 
 uniform," with a smile, as he composed himself once more 
 to slumber. 
 
 Again he dreamed. This time it was different but 
 more fearful. It was the Sibyl's prediction but clothed 
 apparently with the reality of life. Acted out bodily and 
 mentally not to be distinguished for the time from real- 
 ity all palpable, painful, tumultuous, terrible ! There 
 was the gallows. There he stood felt himself to be 
 standing. He mounted the wagon, his hands were bound, 
 the noose was placed around his neck. He awoke with 
 a cry of horror, that aroused his slumbering companion. 
 
 "What's the matter, Captain?" 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I had a horrible nightmare, and 
 cried out."
 
 326 PEMBERTON ] 
 
 "Oh, that's all," said Mr. Smith, turning over, and 
 settling himself to his slumbers. 
 
 Andre wiped the cold sweat from his brow. "I know 
 not what is the matter with me to-night," thought he. 
 "That was a fearful dream that Witch's horrible scene 
 over again. It may mean nothing probably does mean 
 nothing. But whatever it mean it cannot mean any- 
 thing that I, an officer and a gentleman, cannot meet 
 bravely and firmly endure. Especially if Westminster 
 Abbey come after all " and he smiled a proud smile. 
 
 Still no settled, peaceful slumber. All wild, heaving, 
 tumultuous though nothing further shaped and definite. 
 With the first faint dawn of morning Andre wakened, and 
 was eager to leave his bed, and go out into the cheerful 
 day.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 327 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ON THE WAY. 
 
 Our glories float between the earth and heaven, 
 Like clouds which seem pavilions of the sun, 
 And are the playthings of the casual wind. 
 
 Buliver's Richelieu. 
 
 As Andre opened the front door of the farm-house, and 
 stepped out into the porch, the first faint amber light of 
 morning was beginning to illuminate the perfectly clear 
 horizon. Glorious in the East, above the dawn, still 
 shone the Morning Star Lucifer the Magnificent ! And 
 as the British officer stood and watched the gradual com- 
 ing of the day, he felt poet and artist as he was that 
 fervor of admiration, which almost has a tinge of remorse 
 at its own inadequacy fully to realize or express the 
 mingled sublimity and beauty which it beholds. It is the 
 homage which the Finite pays to the Infinite. That deep 
 feeling of "I cannot paint thee, cannot even express, or 
 fully understand thee ! I see thou art sublimely beautiful 
 but I mourn that I cannot contain thee ! And now 
 thou art passing from my view and if thou didst not thus 
 pass, thou wouldst become as common and tame to me as 
 common day, with all its wondrous beauty, variety, and 
 grandeur. Thus the Infinite which I cannot grasp, grows 
 Finite to me with use and custom. Therefore pass away, 
 oh, glorious sunrise pass away, with thy amber and green 
 and blue and crimson and gold lest thou, too, become to 
 me prosaic and commonplace !" 
 
 Thus thought Andre, as so many poetical minds had 
 thought before him, since first the day-spring lighted up 
 the East, since first the day-death faded in glory in the 
 West. Thought, also, of how the sun goes rolling on, ae
 
 328 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 companied by those two triumphal arches of sunrise and 
 sunset, never failing him for a moment, only shifting their 
 places of abode the constant attendants and evidences of 
 his glory, the splendidly attired heralds that announce the 
 coming and proclaim the departure of the sovereign Lord 
 of Earth. 
 
 And as Andre stood there in the early freshness of the 
 morning, the cool breezes seemed also to blow through his 
 brain, and dispel the gloomy visions of the night. The 
 weight which had seemed to be resting upon his mind 
 when he had awakened, had already passed away, and 
 even the memory of it seemed obscure and faded. It is 
 curious what slaves we are to darkness and the night. The 
 fear that appals at midnight which causes the heart to 
 sink and the pulse to throb loses its terror in the clear, 
 full light of morning. Why is it that darkness, and even 
 candle-light, make such cowards of us all ? 
 
 Rousing their negro attendant, Andre directed him to 
 saddle the horses ; and the moment Mr. Smith came down 
 they mounted, and were soon, as they deemed, entirely 
 out of reach of the American patrols. This fact, combined 
 with the fineness, of the day, and the exhilaration of riding, 
 made Andre feel like another man. Such was his exuber- 
 ance of spirit that it overflowed even toward Mr. Smith, 
 who ever afterward declared that he had never met with a 
 more delightful companion so full of pleasant conversa- 
 tion was he ; while the charun of his mere presence was a 
 constant delight. 
 
 They were now in the Neutral Ground, and the grass- 
 grown and deserted roads, the gates torn from their hinges, 
 the crops that frequently lay ungathered and rotten, and 
 the absence both of men and cattle from the fields, all 
 united in proclaiming the hapless condition to which the 
 war had reduced the garden county of Westchester. For
 
 OR, OXE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 329 
 
 who would till when he knew that in all probability the 
 fruits of his toil would be wrested from him ? But although 
 these evidences of the rapine of man could deface, they 
 could not destroy the beauty of the landscape. For the 
 woods were in the first flush of Autumn, and the country 
 through which they passed picturesque beyond description. 
 From every eminence Andre gazed with fresh delight upon 
 the glorious hills of the Highlands, looking harmonious 
 and mystical in their misty robes of blue, and thought, 
 these truly are the Delectable mountains. Gazing at them 
 he forgot for the time his disguise, the perils of his posi- 
 tion, the great war which convulsed the land, and thought 
 only of the glory of this wonderful earth, so passing all 
 description. 
 
 But he was suddenly recalled to sublunary things, by 
 seeing another traveller approaching. This horseman wore 
 a cloak, so that it was difficult to decide whether he was 
 or was not a civilian ; but, as he came near, Andre saw at 
 a glance that the face of the traveller was familiar to him. 
 So he resolutely kept his head turned to one side, until the 
 stranger was nearly abreast of them ; and, as they passed each 
 other wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, thus almost con- 
 cealing his face from view. The horseman gazed earnestly 
 at him, but passed on with a brief salutation and without 
 apparent recognition. Andre drew a deep breath. He 
 saw that it was Lieutenant Morris, but whether the latter 
 had recognized him also, he could not certainly know, 
 though he felt tolerably confident from the Lieutenant's 
 manner that he had not. 
 
 After riding a few miles further, Mr. Smith proposed 
 that they should halt at a wayside cottage which they were 
 approaching, and see if they could not get their horses fed, 
 as well as some breakfast for themselves. Its mistress 
 agreed to supply their wants, though she told them with a
 
 j3<D PEMBERTON J 
 
 sad countenance that she had been visited during the night 
 by a party of marauders " either Skinners or Cow-boys," 
 she knew not which and plundered of all she possessed, 
 save some corn-meal and hay, and a single cow. With 
 the meal, however, she soon prepared them a dish of that 
 New World porridge, which she called sonpaan, but which 
 the Pennsylvanians call mush, and the New Englanders 
 hasty pudding ; and which, when eaten with milk or with 
 molasses, or as a certain distinguished personage prefers it, 
 with both, is one of the most nutritious, wholesome and 
 pleasant dishes for a hungry man that the wide world 
 affords. 
 
 Andre and his companion ate it with that hearty relish 
 which a ride in the brisk morning air is apt to create. It 
 was an old acquaintance of Andre's, for he had often eaten 
 it when a prisoner at Lancaster among the Pennsylvania 
 Dutch. 
 
 At the conclusion of their repast, Mr. Smith announced 
 to the English officer his intention of letting him take the 
 rest of his way alone. He had agreed with General Arnold, 
 if they went by land, to see Andre safely to White Plains. 
 But, for some reason or other perhaps because he thought 
 it useless, perhaps because he wished to be rid of the com- 
 pany of a man who was evidently far other than he seemed 
 he did not perform his promise. If he had, what might 
 not have been the result ? Andre might have gone safely 
 under Smith's guidance, for they almost certainly would 
 have taken the direct road to White Plains, or, if they had 
 not, would probably have gone unchallenged, for Smith 
 was personally known through all that part of the country. 
 
 But Smith did as he did. Was it merely chance ? Is 
 there any such thing as chance in the course of great events, 
 even if there be in the course of small ones? Who can 
 answer ?
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 331 
 
 If it were not in the order of Providence that this plot 
 should succeed, why was it not nipped at an earlier stage? 
 A mere shadow of suspicion thrown across the mind of 
 Washington, the result of some casual conversation with 
 Greene or Lafayette both of whom disliked Arnold, and 
 who had themselves the warmest confidence of their Chief 
 and the command of West Point would have been en- 
 trusted to another, while Arnold would have disappeared 
 from the further scenes of the war. 
 
 Or, if the plot was to be allowed to come to a head, 
 and have its open failure and its victim, why was the 
 guilty Arnold allowed to escape almost so miraculously, 
 and the comparatively innocent Andre be caught in the 
 toils, and offered up as a scapegoat to the vengeance of a 
 justly incensed army and people? 
 
 If Providence did not interfere, how was it that the plot 
 was so curiously and marvellously brought to naught ? If 
 Providence did interfere, why was it that the toils were 
 drawn around Andre, the gentle and generous and accom- 
 plished, the poet and the artist, while Arnold, who be- 
 trayed the trust of his commander, the confidence of his 
 friend and benefactor, and the cause of which he had been 
 one of the most determined champions, was allowed to 
 brush aside the net which was rapidly closing around him, 
 make his escape to the enemy, and afterwards dare with 
 impunity all the hazards of active war ? 
 
 We can ask, but we cannot answer these questions. 
 They lie among the inscrutable facts of life and history. 
 Our intuitions cry out against the supposition that Chance 
 and not an Overruling Power directs the issue of great 
 events ; but why that Power seems to act at some times, 
 and not at others and often apparently in a manner so 
 inconsistent with itself baffles our best reason and judg- 
 ment to decide.
 
 332 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 But we anticipate. And why not ? Nature anticipates. 
 Before the bursting of the storm, you hear the sad wailing 
 of the wind. Before the earthquake, you feel the shudder 
 of the anguished globe. And as we approach the saddest 
 scene of our story, the wind seems to wail and the earth 
 to shudder with an anguish that rolls down the years, 
 through the long course of almost a century. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ARREST OF ANDREA 
 
 So fall my visioned splendors to the earth ! 
 And all our schemes, so grand and absolute, 
 Melt like a bubble, touched by some child's hand. 
 Out upon Life we are the jest and sport 
 Of every breeze that blows ! 
 
 BEFORE parting after breakfast, Mr. Smith explained 
 particularly to the British officer the route he should take ; 
 though it seemed impossible, as he said, to go astray, so 
 long as he kept in a southerly direction. After crossing 
 the Croton river, a mile or so distant, he could either 
 keep on due south to White Plains, or take the road which 
 bore off toward the West, and which would soon bring 
 him to the river road, which ran down to New York along 
 the Hudson. 
 
 " I shall take the latter then," said Andre at once. 
 
 "Perhaps it is the best for you, Mr. Anderson, though 
 if I were going, I should take the other. You may meet 
 Cow-boys along that route." 
 
 "And Skinners on the other. I prefer to meet the 
 Cow-boys. ' '
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 333 
 
 "Neither are very desirable acquaintances," replied 
 Mr. Smith laughing ; " but of the two, perhaps the Cow- 
 boys would treat you best. Of course, if you do meet the 
 Skinners, you had better show your pass. The Cow-boys, 
 I am afraid, would think rather less of you for show- 
 ing it." 
 
 " I think you counsel wisely." 
 
 " I believe I have now given you all the necessary 
 directions. I wish you a safe and pleasant journey, Mr. 
 Anderson. Remember me to my brother, the Chief Just- 
 ice, when you meet him in New York." 
 
 " I will, certainly. And I wish you also a safe and 
 pleasant trip home again, Mr. Smith. Tell the General 
 when you see him, that you left me nearly through, and 
 all safe." 
 
 And they parted. Mr. Smith and his servant returning 
 the way they came ; not recrossing the river however, but 
 keeping straight on to Arnold's headquarters. 
 
 Andre rode south, crossing the Croton, and then took 
 the turn which led to the river. An hour or so, and he 
 was on the river road. It was a beautiful ride hills, 
 valleys, and continual glimpses of the Hudson on his right 
 and yet his mood had changed, he knew not why, and 
 he felt uneasy and disquieted. He had entered under the 
 cloud ; but he knew it not. 
 
 As he rode on and on, the gloomy visions of the previ- 
 ous night seemed to gather within him. All without was 
 sunshine, save where dense woods and deep ravines made 
 a darkness as of twilight ; but his heart was heavy, and his 
 mind was covered as with a funeral pall. Suddenly he 
 pulled up his horse on the top of a stony hill, and looked 
 around and before him. 
 
 The scene was strangely familiar. He seemed to recog- 
 nize every surrounding object even to a huge moss-grown
 
 334 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 rock, with a young sapling apparently splitting it asunder. 
 He touched his horse with the whip, and slowly descended 
 the hill, gazing intently about him. It came to him with 
 the rapidity and intensity of lightning ; it was the scene 
 of his three dreams. For a moment he felt so unnerved 
 that he feared he should tumble from his horse. 
 
 Then he drew in his breath and summoned up his cour- 
 age, as is the way with a man not only physically but 
 spiritually brave. The feet of his horse were now clatter- 
 ing on the logs of the little bridge that lay across the 
 stream, in the depths of the ravine. And before him, on 
 the right of the road, was the immense Poplar tree, which 
 he now saw for the fourth time, with its huge contorted 
 branches. 
 
 " Now for the soldier with his levelled musket," was his 
 sudden thought ; and, at the moment, a man sprang into 
 the road before him, and with his gun pointed at his 
 breast, cried sternly 
 
 "Halt!" 
 
 The well-known military attire and word recalled the 
 British officer to himself. 
 
 He pulled up his horse, and took a rapid glance at the 
 man, whom he now saw was not alone, but had two com- 
 rades. He was a tall, lusty fellow, and wore a faded 
 British uniform. It was evident he was either a British 
 soldier or a Cow-boy. 
 
 " My boys," said Andre, " you must not delay me. I 
 see you belong to our party." 
 
 " Which party?" asked the one who wore the uniform, 
 and was evidently the master-spirit, and whose name was 
 Paulding. 
 
 "Why, the lower party, the loyal party, of course." 
 
 "You look as if you belonged to our party, by the 
 direction you came from," said Paulding, with an oath.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 335 
 
 " I do, nevertheless, my boys. I am a British officer, 
 on urgent business ; and if you are true friends of the royal 
 cause, you will not delay me. ' ' 
 
 "I say, Paulding," cried another of the men, "he 
 looks like a British officer, in them ere riggings, doesn't 
 he? Officers generally wear rigimentals where I come 
 from." 
 
 The three laughed jeeringly. 
 
 " To prove to you I am what I say, look at this watch," 
 said Andre, producing a gold repeater. " The gentlemen 
 up in this part of the country do not usually carry gold 
 watches, do they ?' ' 
 
 "And even if you were a British officer," exclaimed 
 Paulding, "blamed little we'd care. We belong to the 
 other side, Mr. Officer. ' ' 
 
 Andre's heart gave a great leap. Had he committed 
 himself too soon ? This man, like himself, might be in 
 disguise. Then he laughed lightly. 
 
 "All's fair in war, my boys," said he. " A man must 
 do anything to get along. The truth is, I am travelling 
 on public business by General Arnold's directions; I'd 
 have shown you my pass at first, but for that dirty red- 
 coat. You'll see this is all right," and he handed them 
 the pass from General Arnold. 
 
 "What's the blamed thing say, Paulding?" 
 
 "It's d d bad writing as most writing is," replied 
 Paulding, investigating the pass with as much intentness 
 as if it had been written in Chinese or Hindoo "but I 
 make out it says ' Pass ' and ' White Plains,' and ' B. Ar- 
 nold ' at the tail of it but whether this is the gentleman 
 that the General orders us to pass, the Lord only knows, 
 I don't." 
 
 "I bleeve he's a rascally trader, with lots of money, 
 going down to New York to buy and smuggle out dry
 
 33^ PEMBERTON J 
 
 goods and groceries, ' ' said the one of the party who had 
 not spoken, and who was named Van Wart. 
 
 "Yes, probably one of them fellers that makes us poor 
 country folks pay ten prices for our rum and sugar," 
 chimed in Williams. 
 
 "Let's search him," exclaimed Paulding, "and find 
 out what he is. If he's one of them blasted speculators, 
 he has plenty of money somewheres about him. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, I say sarch him; we'll find something that '11 
 tell whether he's an officer or a speckilator, " cried Wil- 
 liams. 
 
 "Hands off there!" exclaimed Andre indignantly, 
 wresting himself from the rough hands that Williams had 
 laid upon him. " How dare you presume on such a thing 
 in the face of this pass ? If you attempt it, I warn you 
 you'll have to answer to General Arnold, who is not a man 
 to be trifled with." 
 
 " D n General Arnold !" cried Paulding. " The law 
 of the Neutral Ground is the law of the strongest. ' ' 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder," said Van Wart, "if General 
 Arnold was consarned with this feller; he's always up to 
 some speckilation or other to make money. A friend of 
 mine who came from Philadelphy, told me he was all the 
 time at it down there, until the people hated him like 
 pisen." 
 
 " Well," said Paulding, "if he is one of Arnold's cro- 
 nies, we'll take a share too. It's not fair the General 
 should be making all the money. The law of New York 
 says that any good Whig may capture and confiscate all 
 supplies intended for the enemy; and if this gentleman is 
 going to New York with a lot of money, it is our duty as 
 good Whigs to confiscate it, and put it to better uses. Isn't 
 that so, boys?" 
 
 Van Wart and Williams swore with many an oath that
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 337 
 
 that was good law ; not only Neutral Ground law, but 
 good law anywhere. 
 
 "Now, sir," continued Paulding, addressing Andre, 
 " we give you your choice. You may either come out of 
 the road, and into the bushes with us, and allow yourself 
 to be peaceably searched, or you may make a row, and 
 force us to do it by main strength. It don't make much 
 matter to us which you do ; there are three of us, and 
 either of us as strong as you are ; but it may make a good 
 deal of difference to you. ' ' 
 
 "Supposing you do not find that large sum of money, 
 will you be satisfied, and let me go on my way?" 
 
 "Well, yes; I think we may say yes, boys," replied 
 Paulding. 
 
 " It is a bargain, then," said Andr6, somewhat relieved. 
 "Here is my purse, containing a few sovereigns, and here 
 are my two watches;" for in accordance with a common 
 custom of the fine gentlemen of the time, Andre then wore 
 two watches, a gold and a silver one ; " these are all the 
 valuables you will find upon me." 
 
 The whole party then moved off from the road, to a 
 spot under the gigantic Tulip Tree, where some bushes and 
 the low bending branches of the tree concealed them from 
 the view of any traveller who should pass by. 
 
 As Andre took off his coat and vest, he handed them to 
 his captors for examination. 
 
 They found nothing, though they felt the garments very 
 carefully all over, to ascertain whether anything was con- 
 cealed between the cloth and the lining, even ripping the 
 lining open at several places. 
 
 "What is this?" said Van Wart, giving a pull at the 
 ribbon to which the miniature of Helen was attached. 
 
 Andre pulled out the miniature. " My boys, I ask as a 
 special favor, that I be allowed to retain this. It would
 
 33** PEMBERTON ; 
 
 not be of much value to you ; it is of the greatest value to 
 me." 
 
 A smile passed over the faces of his captors but they 
 examined the miniature with no small degree of interest. 
 
 11 A d d beautiful lady that, Mister !" exclaimed Paul- 
 ding. "Boys, we won't touch that. We've got sisters 
 and sweethearts ourselves, and be she sister or sweetheart, 
 and it's none of our business which she is, we don't confis- 
 cate things of that sort. ' ' 
 
 " No, he'd have to be a blamed mean man that 'd take 
 that from you," cried Williams. 
 
 "Thank you!" said Andre, while his face lighted up. 
 " May both sisters and sweethearts smile on you for this !" 
 
 After this little incident, there was a touch of softness in 
 the language and manners of his captors, that they had not 
 manifested before. But they resolutely went on with their 
 search. 
 
 Still, they found nothing. At last they came to his 
 boots. "Sit down, sir, on that stump, we must pull off 
 your boots now," said Paulding. 
 
 " My boys, you might as well have believed me at first. 
 I have got no more money about me. There is no money 
 in my boots, how could I carry money there ?' ' 
 
 ' ' We mean to be sure of it, " replied Paulding. ' ' While 
 you are talking, we could see for ourselves." 
 
 The boots were drawn off; Van Wart put his hands 
 down as far as he could, but could feel nothing. " I 
 should like to have a pair of boots like those," said he 
 admiringly. 
 
 " What would you do with them, Van ?" cried Paulding, 
 with a laugh ; " wear them on your hands, or give them to 
 Betsy, to see if she could get them on ?' ' 
 
 They all glanced down at their huge cowhide shoes, 
 with a loud laugh. The boots were so small that they
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 339 
 
 absolutely were not worth stealing ; though a good pair of 
 boots was a very precious article among the country people 
 of that day. 
 
 " Try his stockings," said Williams. 
 
 Paulding knelt down and passed his hand across his 
 feet. 
 
 "By the Lord, here it is!" exclaimed he, feeling a 
 package under the sole of one of Andre's feet. 
 
 "I knew we'd find it!" cried Van Wart, excitedly. 
 " Bank of England notes, I'll bet !" 
 
 "My boys," said Andre, while his face blanched, "you 
 are mistaken. That is not money. It is simply some 
 private correspondence of mine. ' ' 
 
 " Oh, get out !" cried Williams, feeling under the other 
 foot. "Here's some more, boys. I'll warrant this '11 
 pay better than even those cattle dealers we were watching 
 for." 
 
 Andr6 knew it was useless to say more. 
 
 Paulding soon had the papers in his hand. " No money, 
 after all !" said he blankly. 
 
 "No money !" repeated the others disconsolately. 
 
 "I told you so, my boys," said Andre. "You will 
 oblige me by handing those papers back to me." 
 
 Paulding was engaged however in slowly spelling out 
 to himself the contents of one of the papers. 
 
 "This seems to be all about West Point," said he, evi- 
 dently puzzled. " Fort Putnam stone wan-ting great 
 re-pairs wall on east side broke down ! Good God, boys, 
 he's a spy!" 
 
 "A spy !" cried both the others excitedly and gazing 
 on Andre as if they expected to see something very un- 
 usual manifest itself in his appearance. 
 
 "Nonsense!" exclaimed Andre, putting on a brave 
 face, though he felt in all its awful intensity, the peril of
 
 340 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 his situation. "I told you that I was on the public busi- 
 ness, under General Arnold's orders. You said I was not 
 and that I had lots of money for speculating with. You 
 wished to search me, and agreed if you did not find the 
 money, to let me go without further trouble. It has all 
 come out just as I said. Now I ask you to do as you 
 promised." 
 
 "Yes," said Paulding, " and so we would, if we hadn't 
 found those papers." 
 
 "What difference does that make?" 
 "See here, Mister we're poor men. We live here on 
 this Neutral Ground. There's no use working our crops 
 are all trodden down or stolen. Everything we had to 
 live on, has been taken from us. We must live. It's no 
 great harm to pluck a Tory, 'specially if he's just been 
 taking cattle down to New York. The law says we may 
 confiscate the cattle if we can catch them, and we'd just 
 as lieve confiscate the hard money after the cattle's sold. 
 But, you see, we are good, true Whigs with it all and if 
 you are a spy, and it looks confoundedly like it, we're not 
 going to let you get off to New York with all that about 
 West Point in your stockings. ' ' 
 
 "No that's a horse of another color," cried Van 
 Wart. 
 
 "And a durned black color at that!" exclaimed Wil- 
 liams. 
 
 "And so you are such good Whigs, that though I show 
 you the pass of your own General, ordering you to let me 
 go on to White Plains, because I am on public business by 
 his direction, you choose to think you know better than 
 he does, and interfere with his wise plans. ' ' 
 "Let's see that pass again," said Paulding. 
 Andre had resumed his attire, and now took the pass 
 from his waistcoat pocket, and handed it to him.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 34! 
 
 After spelling at it for awhile, Paulding said " This 
 pass says, ' Permit Mr. John Anderson to pass. ' How do 
 we know you're Mr. Anderson?" 
 
 "Because I have the pass." 
 
 " You said at first you were a British officer." 
 
 " I thought you were Cow-boys then that red coat 
 misled me." 
 
 " Blast the coat. But when I was a prisoner the other 
 day down in New York, I made the exchange in order to 
 get off. It's the second time I've been in that stinking, 
 lousy jail of theirs. They can put me in, but they can't 
 keep me in curse them ! ' ' 
 
 " Yes, and when he said he was an officer, he seemed 
 in good, hearty earnest too," said Williams to Paulding. 
 
 "Well, sir," continued Paulding, "I'm sorry if you're 
 one of General Arnold's men but you'll have to go with 
 us to Colonel Jameson at North Castle. If he says you're 
 all right, it won't delay you very long; and if he says 
 you're a spy, why you'll have to hang, that's all. And I 
 should be confoundedly sorry for the last, even if you're 
 not a very old acquaintance. ' ' 
 
 " But my business is of such an important character, 
 that it will not admit of even a couple of hours' longer 
 delay," said Andre earnestly. "You have already seri- 
 ously incommoded me." 
 
 " Can't help it !" replied Paulding resolutely ; " you've 
 got to go. So get on your horse. ' ' 
 
 " What will you take to let me alone, and molest me no 
 further ? I had better pay you something, than allow the 
 public business to suffer. ' ' 
 
 "What will you give?" asked Van Wart. 
 
 "I'll give you a hundred guineas." 
 
 " We won't do it," said Williams. 
 
 "I'll give you five hundred guineas."
 
 342 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " How can you? You say you have no money." 
 
 "You can accompany me to King's Bridge, and I will 
 stay there with you until I can send into the city for the 
 money." 
 
 "Yes," said Van Wart, "and do as that other officer 
 did the other day. He paid the money, and then had the 
 fellars sent to the Sugar House Jail and flogged. This 
 was giving them a devilish sight more than they'd bargained 
 for." 
 
 "It will not do," cried Paulding sternly. "You must 
 go to North Castle." 
 
 "I will give you a thousand golden guineas," cried 
 Andre, despairingly, " and pledge you my honor as a gen- 
 tleman, that you shall leave King's Bridge unharmed and 
 unmolested." 
 
 They were poor men, and the sum seemed an immense 
 one in their eyes. They hesitated; it was evident the 
 temptation was a very strong one. 
 
 " No !" at length exclaimed Paulding fiercely. "Not 
 if you would make it ten thousand ! I tell you, my boys, 
 we've struck something mighty important, to be worth 
 such a big price. I don't understand it," turning to Ad- 
 dr6, " but I'm more determined now than ever to take you 
 in. D n it, I'd shoot my best friend, if he stood in the 
 way ! Am I not right, boys?" 
 
 " It's a big sum of money but we're true Whigs, and 
 he must go in," replied Williams. 
 
 "And I say so too," said Van Wart. "Though if I 
 thought he was a mere common spy, and 't would do no 
 harm to the cause, I'd go for taking the money. I bleeve 
 he'd pay it." 
 
 "So do I," said Paulding. "But suppose West Point 
 should be taken, and this gentleman be the man that had 
 done it, how would we feel?"
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 343 
 
 " Durned cheap !" said Van Wart. 
 
 "Come, sir !" said Paulding to Andre, in astern voice. 
 " We have made up our minds. Mount your horse. It'll 
 only take a couple of hours or so to get to North Castle. 
 Then if you are not a spy, you can explain matters to 
 Colonel Jameson, who is a true gentleman, and he will let 
 you off, and you won't have to pay a sixpence either, be- 
 sides getting your purse and watches back again." 
 
 There was nothing more to be said or done. Andre" 
 mounted his horse. Their party was soon increased by the 
 arrival of three or four others, who had been off in another 
 direction. And with one of his captors grasping his bri- 
 dle, and the others walking on either side, he was con- 
 ducted along the roads and across the fields, by the most 
 unfrequented ways, to North Castle. 
 
 It was a dismal ride, for although Andre did not appre- 
 hend any very serious results to himself, the whole subtly 
 planned scheme would evidently now be brought to light. 
 The first thing to be done, was to get word of his arrest to 
 Arnold, in order that the American General might make 
 his escape. Possibly, Arnold might liberate him also. 
 Though that was doubtful. It all turned upon the charac- 
 ter of Colonel Jameson. If he were naturally unsuspicious, 
 the avalanche might be held back, until both Arnold and 
 himself were out of danger. 
 
 But however this might be, all his bright anticipations 
 of an immediate and successful issue to the war, based 
 upon the triumph of treason, were dissipated forever. All 
 the glory of having achieved this important and probably 
 decisive stroke, had faded away from his brow. In its 
 stead, rested upon his forehead the stigma of being a spy, 
 which, however undeserved he might consider it, his dis- 
 guise, and the valuable papers found in his possession, 
 naturally tended to fasten upon him. A sad, sad ride it
 
 344 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 was to Andr6. Was it strange that he thought at times of 
 his three-fold dream, so curiously fulfilled, and of that 
 other dream, the same as the prediction of the Sibyl, with 
 its awful ending? 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BREAKING THE NEWS. 
 
 He was not born to shame : 
 Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit ; 
 For 'tis a throne where honor may be crowned 
 Sole monarch of the universal earth. Shakspeare . 
 
 IT was toward the close of the fourth day after the cap- 
 ture of Andre, that a horseman rode up to the door of the 
 Pemberton mansion in Philadelphia. Both horse and man 
 looked dusty and weary, as if from the effects of a long 
 ride. Dismounting and fastening the weary animal to the 
 hitching-post, the traveller mounted the steps, and knocked 
 at the door. Very soon Foxey made his appearance. 
 
 " Is your master in, Foxey ?" 
 
 " Bress my soul, Cap'n Morris, is dat you? Ob course 
 Mas' Arth's in. Walk back to de libary, won't you?" 
 
 Captain Morris he had been captain now for some 
 time stepped hastily forward into the library, just glanc- 
 ing into the parlors as he passed, and, as he entered the 
 room, closed the door after him. 
 
 "Why, Phil glad to see you," exclaimed Pemberton, 
 springing from his chair with extended hand. " But what 
 makes you look so solemn?" continued he, noticing the 
 serious countenance of his friend. "The army been de- 
 feated?"
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 345 
 
 " The army is all right ; but I bring sad news, Arthur. 
 Major Andre is a prisoner." 
 
 "Not wounded, I hope." 
 
 "No, not in the least." 
 
 " Well, that is not so bad. He is out of harm's way 
 where he can neither hurt us, nor get hurt himself. And 
 when he obtains his parole, we shall have, I trust, the 
 pleasure of his society for awhile." 
 
 " Ah would he were only a prisoner !" rejoined Morris, 
 excitedly. " But Arnold has turned traitor would have 
 delivered up West Point. Andre plotted the whole affair 
 with him assumed a disguise to get back, and was arrested 
 in his disguise near Tarrytown." 
 
 "Arnold a traitor ! It is not possible !" exclaimed Pem- 
 berton. 
 
 " Would to God it were not ! But he has fled to the 
 enemy. The army is furious. Andre was captured in dis- 
 guise ; and papers discovered on him which divulged the 
 whole infamous plot. He was arrested as a spy he is to 
 be tried as a spy and if something be not done, and that 
 speedily, he will meet the death of a spy." 
 
 Pemberton flung himself upon the sofa, and covered his 
 face with his hands. It was terrible all terrible ! Ar- 
 nold's treason Andre's danger. For he loved John An- 
 dr6 beyond the love of a brother. 
 
 " Merciful God !" at length he said. " And how can we 
 tell Helen?" 
 
 The tears came into Morris's eyes. "That has been 
 worrying me all my long ride," he said. " Arthur, rather 
 than she should surfer as she will, I would cheerfully die in 
 Andre's place." 
 
 " But he must not die !" exclaimed Pemberton, starting 
 up. " What were the facts did he enter our lines in dis- 
 guise?"
 
 346 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 "No, I learn not. He says he entered our lines in his 
 own uniform, and unknowingly he having expressly 
 stipulated with Arnold that they should meet outside. But 
 Arnold deceived him he might have known that a traitor 
 could not be trusted false to one, false to all ! Then, 
 once inside, and unable to get back the way he came, at 
 Arnold's request he assumed his disguise. He flings back 
 with scorn the charge that he is a spy. ' ' 
 
 "I would believe John Andre against the world," ex- 
 claimed Pemberton. " We must save him ! I will return 
 with you at once to Tappan." 
 
 "We will do what we can," replied Morris gloomily; 
 "but I fear all our efforts will be in vain. The army, as 
 I said, is furious from the General-in-Chief down. They 
 all demand a sacrifice. You have seen Washington set his 
 lips together ; then he looks stern and implacable as Neme- 
 sis. Andr6 has laid himself open by his change of dress 
 to the charge of being a spy j and nothing, I fear, can save 
 him!" 
 
 "Arnold is gone?" 
 
 " Yes, safe in New York. If he were in our hands, An- 
 dre could be saved. Of course Clinton will not deliver 
 him up, even to save so great a favorite as Andre." 
 
 "Of course not!" replied Pemberton. "Andre him- 
 self would be the first to spurn such a proposition." 
 
 They sat for awhile in silence. 
 
 " I suppose it might as well be done first as last, Phil." 
 
 "Yes but I would tenfold rather storm a battery," re- 
 plied Morris. " Where are the ladies?" 
 
 " In the parlor, I suppose. Let us go to them." 
 
 "You must do all the talking, Pemberton. I know 
 I shall break down, at one look of Helen's face. Ah me !" 
 
 They entered the parlor. The two ladies were seated 
 by a table Helen reading, Isabella sewing.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 347 
 
 " Why, Captain Morris !" exclaimed the latter as he en- 
 tered. " I am very glad indeed to see you." 
 
 Helen looked a smiling welcome, and extended her 
 hand. 
 
 Morris shook hands, said a few words, and then took a 
 seat a little to one side. 
 
 Helen looked surprised his manner was so different 
 from usual. 
 
 Then Pemberton spoke. His voice trembled a little, in 
 spite of him. 
 
 " Helen, my sweet sister, that is to be I have often 
 heard you say that you belong to a race that never feared 
 the face of Death, on the battle field or on the scaffold. 
 Can you meet as patiently and bravely the stern, sad face 
 of Sorrow?" 
 
 Before he had half finished his sentence, the girl w% 
 gazing from one to the other of the young men with an 
 eager, questioning look, as if she would read their very 
 souls. Then, as Pemberton paused, she exclaimed pas- 
 sionately : 
 
 " What is it ? Who is it? Is Colonel Musgrave " 
 
 "I have heard no bad news of the Colonel," replied 
 Pemberton. " Calm yourself, my dear Helen be calm, I 
 implore you!" 
 
 "Is he dead?" moaned Helen, in a low, quivering 
 voice. 
 
 " He is not but he is a prisoner." 
 
 "And wounded?" 
 
 " No, he is not wounded !" 
 
 She drew a deep breath. 
 
 " But why do you look so solemn? To be a prisoner 
 and unhurt is not so sad. He was a prisoner before. Tell 
 me, Philip you tell me. Quickly ! Quickly !" 
 
 Poor Morris brushed the tears from his eyes with his
 
 348 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 hand. He looked at Pemberton. The latter nodded, as 
 if it were better told at once now. 
 
 "Major Andre is accused of being a spy," faltered 
 Morris. 
 
 " I deny it ! It is a foul calumny ! He is no spy !" 
 cried Helen impetuously her mood changing into one of 
 intense indignation. "What does he say?" 
 
 " He also denies it." 
 
 " I knew so ! I knew so ! What do they mean by mak- 
 ing so false a charge, Arthur?" 
 
 " When he was arrested he was in disguise. He admits 
 that he assumed his disguise within our lines. He had 
 planned the surrender of West Point with General Arnold. 
 Arnold has escaped to New York ; but Andre was taken, 
 with the fatal papers upon him. The army is greatly in- 
 censed. His position is very perilous indeed." 
 
 " With Arnold !" faltered Helen. She well understood 
 now the whole affair. She herself had aided in the begin- 
 ning of the perilous game, which threatened to prove so 
 disastrous at its close. She leaned her head upon her hand 
 and wept bitterly. 
 
 "We shall do all we can to save him, Miss Helen. Do 
 not give up hope, ' ' said Morris, taking a seat near her. 
 
 "You are very good, Philip. I know you will." 
 
 "When do you start for the army, Arthur?" said Isa- 
 bella, who had been so far a silent but attentive and sym- 
 pathizing listener. " Of course Helen and I will go with 
 you." 
 
 "To-morrow morning. There is no time for delay. You 
 can endure a two or three days' ride on horseback?" 
 
 "I think so; if Mrs. Stephens could come all the way 
 from Boston with her infant in her arms." 
 
 "We will all go together then." 
 
 " Helen and I will retire, if you will excuse us, gentle-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 349 
 
 men, to make our arrangements. We shall be ready at 
 any hour you fix. Good evening, Captain ; I suppose you 
 will return with us?" 
 
 " I design doing so. Good-night, Miss Graham ; good- 
 night, Miss Helen." 
 
 " Good-night, Philip," said Helen, stopping before him 
 for a moment. "I shall never forget your kindness in 
 this dark hour. ' ' 
 
 "Phil, we must save him!" said Pemberton earnestly, 
 after the ladies had left the room. 
 
 " I will do all I can, as you know, Arthur ; but I have 
 not the least hope. I have heard the army talk. Every 
 man, from the highest to the lowest, says, ' Death ! ' ' 
 
 " How is he guarded ?" 
 
 " There is no hope there. Two of our best officers are 
 constantly with him, day and night ; and six sentries guard 
 the passage and the doors. Besides, there will be, I fear, 
 no time to do anything. Not more than three or four 
 days." 
 
 " What, so soon ? Is this great haste not unusual ?" 
 
 "Not in the case of spies, you know. They are often 
 executed on the spot. And the officers consider this a 
 painful duty, and one that the longer it is put off, becomes 
 the more painful." 
 
 "Then, indeed, we must be moving," said Pemberton. 
 " I shall see Washington at once. And then Andre. 
 Whatever may be the result, I shall stand by him to the 
 last. Oh, Phil, John Andr6, Englishman as he is, is the 
 very noblest, sweetest man I ever knew. I shall not easily 
 get over it, if they harm him." 
 
 " He is a grand fellow, no doubt. And I would risk 
 my life to save him," replied Morris. "But, ah, Pem- 
 berton, it is mainly because I love Helen Graham. Is 
 it not true love, Arthur, which serves the object of its
 
 35 PEMBERTONJ 
 
 affection, even by serving, if necessary, a successful rival ? 
 But for me there is no other woman in the wide world. I 
 told you that two years ago, and I say the same thing 
 now. ' ' 
 
 "You are a noble fellow, Phil and only too much of 
 a true and devoted lover. But I must see that your horse 
 has been stabled, and order Aunt Dinah to get some 
 supper for you. You will, of course, stay with us to-night. 
 For we must be off bright and early to-morrow. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PEMBERTON AND WASHINGTON. 
 
 I know my duty. Though it makes me weep 
 Hot tears of blood, that duty will I do. 
 Down, foolish heart ! this is no place for thee. 
 
 IT took three days of hard riding, a considerable por- 
 tion of it over mountain roads, before our party reached 
 the vicinity of the American camp at Tappan. Captain 
 Morris obtained lodgings for them at a comfortable farm- 
 house a couple of miles from the camp, where the ladies 
 were received with great kindness by an honest Dutch 
 farmer named Jansen, and his substantial wife. The ladies 
 were greatly exhausted, not so much by the ride itself as 
 by the excitement of their emotions. Sorrow which is 
 without hope, is very hard to bear. And neither Pem- 
 berton nor Morris felt at liberty to encourage any hopeful 
 anticipations. In truth, they did not feel absolutely cer- 
 tain that they should find Andre alive. And the true 
 state of their feelings, although not expressed in words, 
 insensibly communicated itself to their sensitive compan-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 351 
 
 ions. So that Helen, notwithstanding her undeniable 
 courage and high spirit, seemed almost as much dead as 
 alive, when, near the close of a pleasant Saturday after- 
 noon, Morris assisted her from her horse, and into the 
 sitting-room of the farm-house. 
 
 All Pemberton could learn from the farmer was that a 
 Court of Officers had been sitting the previous day, to try 
 Andre ; but what the verdict was, Mr. Jansen did not cer- 
 tainly know, though he had heard it was "guilty." The 
 first part of this information Pemberton thought best to 
 communicate at once to the sisters. And then he an- 
 nounced his intention of riding over to Tappan, to hear 
 what the verdict really was, and, if necessary, to see the 
 Commander-in-Chief, as also to procure a permit for all of 
 them to visit Andr. 
 
 Helen beckoned him to her, as he was about following 
 Morris from the room. " You will see him, I know, before 
 you return," she said, in a low voice. "Tell him. from 
 me that I never loved him more than now never ! That 
 I know he has acted in all things like a noble man and 
 true gentleman. That I believe in him fully. And that, 
 were it well to do so, I should glory in sharing his prison 
 with him. Tell him this and as much more as you can 
 find words to express. Tell him I am his always utterly ; 
 for this world, and forever!" 
 
 She sank back on the farmer's rude lounge, overcome 
 with the violence of her emotions. 
 
 Before Pemberton and Captain Morris reached the vil- 
 lage of Tappan, they met an officer, an acquaintance of 
 the latter, who informed them briefly of the true position 
 of affairs. The Court had been held composed of all the 
 General Officers with the exception of Wayne and Irving. 
 No witnesses had been examined. Andre had made a 
 plain, unvarnished statement of all that had taken place.
 
 352 PEMBERTON; 
 
 And, basing their verdict upon that statement, and the 
 laws of war, he had been unanimously declared a spy, and 
 worthy of death. The sentence had been approved that 
 very day and the next day, Sunday, October ist, at 5 
 P. M., been appointed for the execution. 
 
 Pemberton's cheek blanched, and his heart sank within 
 him. " So soon !" he exclaimed. 
 
 "The sooner the better," replied the officer gloomily. 
 " It must be done ; and yet we are all learning to love the 
 prisoner. The longer we leave it, the harder our duty 
 grows." 
 
 " There is no hope then but in Washington !" exclaimed 
 Pemberton bitterly ; " when a man's very virtues are made 
 a reason for hastening his fate." 
 
 "Shall I go in with you?" asked Morris, when they 
 reached the stone farm-house where Washington had his 
 headquarters. 
 
 "There is no time to lose," replied Pemberton. "I 
 will see the General alone, if you will see the principal 
 officers, and try to get a paper signed by some of them, 
 asking for a reversal of the sentence, or at least a 
 respite. ' ' 
 
 " I will do all I can, but do not be surprised if I get no 
 signers," rejoined Morris, as he left him. "I will meet 
 you at your quarters this evening. ' ' 
 
 Having dismounted, and sent in his name, Pemberton 
 was invited to enter the little room used by Washington as 
 his reception chamber. The Chief was alone, and rising, 
 cordially welcomed his visitor, inquiring almost immedi- 
 ately as to the health of the Misses Graham. 
 
 " They are not very well, though very near here now/' 
 replied Pemberton. Then, noticing the surprise expressed 
 in the face of his listener, he added, " General, probably 
 you do not know that Miss Helen Graham is betrothed to
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 353 
 
 Major Andr6. It is a secret from the world, but I may 
 trust it to your ear." 
 
 A change passed over Washington's face. " God pity 
 her !" said he, with deep emotion. 
 
 " Yes ; if your Excellency will not take pity upon her," 
 replied Pemberton. 
 
 " What can I do ?" said Washington, in a sad but reso- 
 lute voice. "He has been tried by the highest Court I 
 could summon. My Generals say unanimously that he is 
 guilty of being a spy, and must surfer death. They speak 
 the voice of the whole army, the whole country. How 
 could I set their decision at naught, even if I would ? I 
 have had to tell Colonel Hamilton this, over and over. 
 He does not dispute it, but still pleads for mercy. Mercy 
 that I have neither the power nor the right to grant." 
 
 Pemberton had been told that Washington was a cold, 
 stern man had himself partly believed it. He acknow- 
 ledged to himself now how false the charge was ; for the 
 man before him was evidently full of emotion ; his face 
 glowing, his voice, though low and even, impassioned. 
 But Pemberton had determined beforehand to save his 
 friend if he possibly could, and to admit nothing, however 
 reasonable, that told against him. For once he was deter- 
 mined to be fanatical and one-sided in his reasoning and 
 his purpose. 
 
 "If your Excellency will pardon me," said Pemberton, 
 " it seems to me, and to Miss Graham, that everything 
 depends on your decision. Whatever your officers may 
 say, the ultimate decision must rest with you. If you say 
 live, the army will approve, and recognize in your voice 
 that sentiment of Mercy which is so natural to you." 
 
 "And is nothing then to be done, sir, to satisfy our 
 outraged sense of Justice ?' ' replied Washington. "Justice 
 has its claims as well as Mercy. Is Treason the most
 
 354 PEMBERTON; 
 
 infamous Treason to be plotted in our midst, and those 
 engaged in it to go unpunished, as if it were merely 
 some little peccadillo of which they had been guilty ?' ' 
 As he spoke thus, Washington's face assumed that cold 
 and somewhat severe expression which usually sat upon it 
 in moments of trial and danger. 
 
 "I am not able to perceive," rejoined Pemberton 
 warmly, " that Major Andre has done anything more than 
 I would have done in Philadelphia, had Sir William Howe, 
 or any of his officers, proposed to play a similar game with 
 the British, that Arnold has played with us. And I think 
 your Excellency's sense of justice will pardon me for 
 adding, that if I had done so, your Excellency would 
 have applauded instead of rebuking my conduct." 
 
 "I do not deny it, Mr. Pemberton. But you will re- 
 member that I told you expressly, that, while I regarded 
 your services in Philadelphia as of the highest value to the 
 Country and the Cause " 
 
 " 'And such as a high-minded gentleman might per- 
 form ;' pardon me for interrupting your Excellency." 
 
 "And such as a high-minded gentleman might perform," 
 replied Washington, emphatically, "still that if you were 
 discovered, it might be impossible for me to save you. It 
 is often not only blameless, but noble to act the spy ; I 
 trust I would, if there were sufficient reason, imitate King 
 Alfred, and, to save my country, penetrate the camp of 
 the invader myself; but not the less does the rule of war 
 say, Death to all spies ! Major Andre has come within 
 the rule." 
 
 " Begging your Excellency's pardon, I do not think so. 
 I have learned from Captain Morris that he assumed his 
 disguise under General Arnold's orders, after he had been 
 brought into our lines against his request." 
 
 " He who deals with a Traitor, must beware of Treason.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 355 
 
 The old proverb says, ' Who sups with the Devil should 
 have a long spoon.' Andre took the risk, and has lost. 
 He must pay the penalty unless " 
 
 "Unless what?" asked Pemberton, seeing that the 
 General hesitated. 
 
 A gloom as of night gathered over Washington's face. 
 He rose from his seat. It was evident to Pemberton that 
 he was about to witness one of those tremendous bursts of 
 indignation of which he had been told and which were 
 more startling on account of their infrequency. It was 
 almost a relief when it came the clenched and menac- 
 ing right hand and extended arm giving force to the 
 words 
 
 " Unless we can catch that infamous Traitor, that lying 
 and perjured wretch, Benedict Arnold and hang him as 
 high as Haman, in Andre's place. If I can once lay hold 
 of him" letting his massive hand fall upon Pemberton's 
 shoulder, and giving it involuntarily a grasp that left the 
 marks of his fingers in black and blue for days afterwards 
 " I'll make him an example to devils and to men !" 
 
 "I devoutly trust we may take him," said Pemberton, 
 after a pause, in which the General had resumed his seat. 
 " He is a Traitor, and richly deserves death. But Andr6 
 is an honorable, high-toned man. It will not punish Ar- 
 nold to injure him." 
 
 " Whom now can I trust ? Whom now can I trust ? " 
 mournfully exclaimed Washington, dejection mingling 
 with his indignation. " Do .you not see, sir, that this 
 treason of Arnold's, throws suspicion upon everybody? I 
 appointed Arnold the perjured wretch to the command 
 of West Point and you know, Mr. Pemberton, being be- 
 hind the scenes, what some very influential people in your 
 good city think and have said of me. What will they 
 say now?"
 
 356 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 "I know it well ; but I also know that your Excellency 
 has never stooped to play at their intriguing game ; and 
 that you have met secret malice with open and honest ar- 
 gument and wise and merciful action." 
 
 "I care not for myself," continued Washington; "but 
 they wound the great Cause through me. I and my offi- 
 cers must not only be guiltless, we must be unsuspected. 
 Add the suspicion of Treason to the other influences which 
 are now engendering strife and disunion among us, and 
 the country is lost. I should like to oblige you, Mr. Pem- 
 berton, but the welfare of the Cause will not allow it. 
 This great Crime will have its Victim. Missing Arnold, 
 it clutches Andre. I fully appreciate and sympathize with 
 your devotion to your friend, but it is needless to prolong 
 this conversation. My resolution is unalterable." 
 
 "And this, then, is the answer I am to take to Helen 
 Graham," exclaimed Pemberton bitterly. "Pray God it 
 does not kill her too. She will insist, I know, upon see- 
 ing your Excellency herself, and begging for Mercy upon 
 her knees. What shall I tell her?" 
 
 A groan burst from Washington's breast. "I cannot, 
 cannot see her ! I am but a man, Mr. Pemberton, a weak 
 man, simply trying my best to do what is right. Why 
 should I be exposed to such a weight of agony? My an- 
 swer must still be the same. I beg you spare me such an 
 hour of torture ! ' ' 
 
 "Your Excellency will at least favor me with a pass for 
 myself and my friends to visit the prisoner?" 
 
 Washington sat down at a table and wrote a pass. "This 
 will admit you to-morrow morning. It is too late to- 
 night." 
 
 "I must bid your Excellency good evening, " said Pem- 
 berton coldly, taking the pass. 
 
 Washington held out his hand. "We are still friends,
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 357 
 
 are we not?" said he, while his face resumed that benevo- 
 lent expression which was usual with him when in the pre- 
 sence of his military family. 
 
 "We are still friends," replied Pemberton, taking his 
 extended hand ; " though you have denied mercy to the 
 very dearest friend I have on earth." And he walked 
 gloomily from the room. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CRUSHED BY THE BLOW. 
 
 Life thou dost strain too hard upon this heart. 
 It must have rest or break 1 
 
 OUTSIDE the door, Pemberton met Captain Morris, who 
 had ascertained he was still within, and was awaiting him 
 in the twilight. 
 
 " I need not ask you what success you have had ?" said 
 Morris, with a glance at his friend's sorrowful face. 
 
 " He is as immovable as these granite hills," replied 
 Pemberton. " Have you had any better success ?" 
 
 "I cannot get a single name; though Colonel Hamil- 
 ton says he will sign, if I can obtain enough others to give 
 the paper any weight. And yet they all express the utmost 
 admiration and sympathy for Andre." 
 
 " Cursed be their admiration and their sympathy, if 
 they will not move a hand to save him !" exclaimed Pem- 
 berton indignantly. "What excuse have they for their 
 cruel coldness?" 
 
 " They all give the same reason the crime is so great 
 that there must be a victim. Hamilton says the army 
 feels as the Romans did when that great gulf opened in
 
 358 PEMBERTON; 
 
 the Forum, and the Augurs averred it would not close 
 until something most precious had been flung down into 
 it. Arnold's treason, he says, has opened the hideous 
 gulf; and either Arnold or Andre must die, to prove that 
 the Army is true and faithful, and thus close the chasm up 
 again. The very fact that Andre is the valuable man he 
 is, and so great a favorite with Clinton, renders, in their 
 view, his sacrifice the more imperative. ' ' 
 
 By this time the young men had remounted, and were 
 on their way to the farm-house. 
 
 "What shall we say to Helen !" said Pemberton, in a 
 voice full of emotion. 
 
 Morris made no reply save to wipe his eyes with his 
 handkerchief. And they rode on in silence. 
 
 As they neared the house, Morris said: "You got a 
 permit, I suppose ?' ' 
 "Yes, for to-morrow." 
 
 Dismounting they fastened their horses. The light was 
 shining out from the already opened door, where Isabella 
 was standing. 
 
 She held up one hand with a warning gesture. " Speak 
 low," she said, "if you have bad tidings." 
 
 "Is anything the matter with Helen ?' ' asked Pemberton. 
 " I fear a great deal. She was awaiting your return, all 
 excitement and eagerness, about an hour ago, when a 
 neighboring farmer came along, and called out to Mr. 
 Jansen that ' the spy had been sentenced to be hung to- 
 morrow at five o'clock.' Helen gave a great shriek, and 
 fell to the floor. Mrs. Jansen and myself got her into a 
 back room, and into bed ; and she has lain there since, 
 seemingly unconscious of all around her. ' ' Isabella spoke 
 in a whisper, but rapidly, and with great emotion fre- 
 quently turning her head and listening. " I left her fora 
 few minutes, hearing you coming. Oh, merciful God
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 359 
 
 what makes you look so sad? Why don't you deny it? 
 It cannot be true ! Speak, I say or I too shall go mad." 
 Pemberton took a step forward, and passed his arm 
 around the waist of his betrothed. "My precious darling !" 
 said he soothingly. " Do not fail your sister at this awful 
 time. If you give way, who shall comfort her ?' ' With 
 words like these, and with gentle caressings, he sought to 
 soothe and sustain her. And it was soon evident not with- 
 out effect. For Isabella's manner, after a great flood of 
 tears, became more composed, and it was evident that the 
 first force of the dreadful blow had spent itself. Then she 
 said, 
 
 "I must now go back, and see how Helen is." 
 But as she turned toward the door of the room, it opened, 
 and a tall white figure came in. It was Helen, in her 
 night-dress, and with one of the sheets of the bed folded 
 like a shawl across her shoulders, and hanging draped 
 around her. 
 
 " Good evening, gentlemen ; I am glad to see you. 
 Where's the Major? Fie, fie, to be so late; and on his 
 wedding night, too !" 
 
 "Why, Helen," cried Isabella, in an agonized voice, 
 springing to her, "do come back to your room, my dear 
 sister. ' ' And she took her by the arm, and would have 
 led her back. 
 
 " Isabella, I am surprised at you ! You forget yourself, 
 to act thus before our friends," exclaimed Helen, draw- 
 ing herself up with great dignity. "Mr. Pemberton, you 
 must excuse her. Ah, you have come to dance at my 
 wedding, Philip? That's a good boy." Here she broke 
 out into one of her childhood's songs : 
 
 " ' The frog he would a wooing go, 
 
 With a string strang molly mitty kimo ; 
 Whether his mother would let him or no. 
 With a string strang molly mitty kimo.
 
 360 PEMBERTON J 
 
 Kimo nero gilto karo, 
 
 Kimo nero kimo, 
 
 With a string strang a parawinkle 
 
 Marabone aringtang, 
 
 Aringtang a molly mitty kimo.' 
 
 " What makes you look so serious, gentlemen ? Is it 
 such a solemn thing to get married ! ' ' Here she gave a 
 wild laugh ; that mad laughter which is so dreadful to hear. 
 "But," with a sudden change of expression, "perhaps 
 you think the bridegroom will not come? Hark !" hold- 
 ing up her finger. " Why doesn't he come ? Why doesn't 
 he come?" here her voice mounted almost to a shriek 
 "ah, I know, I know, I heard them say" here she paused 
 and seemed to be trying to recollect something " oh, I 
 remember they said he could not come because he was 
 to be hung!" and, with a fearful shriek, that tore the 
 hearts of her listeners, Helen again relapsed into uncon- 
 sciousness, and would have fallen to the floor, had not 
 Isabella and the young men who sprung forward sus- 
 tained her in their arms. 
 
 "It will not do to leave her a moment, Arthur," said 
 Isabella, when the unconscious girl had been placed again 
 in her bed. "And, as I would wish to have the com- 
 mand of all my strength, please bring me no more news 
 unless, of course, you can bring us good news. I would 
 rather have everything hereafter a great blank and think 
 of nothing but Helen. She will need all my care, if we 
 would preserve her life and her mind. I do wish the phy- 
 sician that I sent for would come." 
 
 She had hardly finished speaking, before the physician 
 one of the medical gentlemen attached to the army was 
 shown into the room. He pronounced it an attack of 
 brain fever, naturally enough brought on by the terrible 
 circumstances of the case, with which they felt bound to 
 acquaint him. If Helen had, however, as she seemed to
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 361 
 
 have, and as Isabella said she had, a strong and vigorous 
 constitution, he thought with careful nursing, and the ut- 
 most quiet, she might ultimately recover her full health 
 both of mind and body. The case however was evidently 
 a very serious one, and, under the most favorable circum- 
 stances, would confine her to her room for weeks, if not 
 for months. He prescribed certain quieting medicines, 
 recommended the constant application of cloths wet with 
 cold water to her head, and said that if she was not better 
 by the next day, her heavy hair would have to be cut off. 
 We may simply add here, that she did seem rather bet- 
 ter the next day, though still lying apparently unconscious ; 
 but the beautiful light-brown hair, which had shone like 
 threads of gold in the sunshine, to the graceful movements 
 of her imperial head, no longer existed. That one night 
 of sorrow and suffering had changed the glossy gold into a 
 lustrous silver.
 
 362 PEMBERTON j 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PEMBERTON AND ANDRE. 
 
 What I did, I did in honor, 
 
 Led by the impartial conduct of my soul. Shakspeare. 
 
 THE next day Pemberton rode over to see Major Andre. 
 Presenting his pass at the front door, where several senti- 
 nels were stationed, he was conducted along an entry where 
 a sentinel also paced, to the door of the room, where an- 
 other sentry kept guard. Every precaution seemed to have 
 been taken to prevent an escape. 
 
 In the room itself, two officers of approved vigilance and 
 fidelity were constantly posted, with strict orders not to 
 leave the prisoner, by day or by night, even for a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 Andre, dressed in the rich uniform of a British officer, 
 was seated at a table conversing with his guards, as Pem- 
 berton entered. Recognizing his friend, he sprang to his 
 feet with an exclamation. 
 
 " Dear Arthur I am so glad to see you!" cried he, 
 flinging his arms around Pemberton' s neck, while tears 
 came into his fine eyes. And Pemberton responded with 
 equal fervor. 
 
 Then after introducing Pemberton to the American 
 officers, who drew back with delicacy to the other end of 
 the room, the friends seated themselves. 
 
 Several sheets of paper lay on the table, and Andre 
 smilingly pointed out to Arthur two drawings he had been 
 making with pen and ink for the amusement of his guards. 
 One was a likeness of himself, as he sat then at the table 
 an excellent likeness, though executed without the aid of
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 363 
 
 a mirror. The other was more humorous, being a picture 
 of himself shortly after his arrest, and while being escorted 
 by his rough captors to the American post at North 
 Castle. 
 
 "A man must do something at a moment like this, to 
 keep his thoughts employed," said he, with a slight shud- 
 der. ' ' But you know what I am longing to hear. How 
 does Helen bear this cruel stroke?" 
 
 " She is in God's mercy lying so ill as to be unconsci- 
 ous of anything," replied Pemberton solemnly. Then he 
 narrated to Andre how they all had journeyed to Tappan 
 to see him, and how the excitement and sorrow had thrown 
 Helen into a dangerous illness omitting, of course, the 
 more painful features of the story. 
 
 Andre leaned his head upon his hand and said nothing 
 for a time, though his countenance, as Pemberton caught 
 glimpses of it occasionally, was convulsed with grief. Then 
 he seemed to master his feelings with a strong effort, and 
 he said quietly ; 
 
 " Perhaps it is best perhaps it is best ! It would un- 
 man me it would kill her to meet thus, and part ! You 
 see this miniature " taking it from his bosom " it is the 
 work of my own hand, and I think a good likeness, al- 
 though painted from memory. I wish to have it next my 
 heart so long as I live ; then take it, and give it to her 
 when she can bear to see it, and tell her, Arthur," here 
 his voice broke down and he paused for a few moments 
 " tell her that I loved her to the last, and that my greatest 
 regret in dying is that I have so clouded with my fate her 
 young and glorious life." 
 
 " She told me to tell you," replied Pemberton " it was 
 yesterday, before her attack of illness, and she thought I 
 should see you at once that she never loved you more 
 than now. That she loved you utterly, and knew that, in
 
 264 PEMBERTON j 
 
 all you had done, you had acted like the noble gentleman 
 and true man you always were." 
 
 " God bless her noble heart !" responded Andre. "It 
 takes half the bitterness of death away to have her say that. 
 Tell her, when she recovers, that I said this, and tell her, 
 also, that I know I have done nothing of which an honor- 
 able man and a British soldier need be ashamed. Do you 
 think I have, my dear friend?" 
 
 " I do not. I have told Washington himself so, and 
 have urged every plea I could in your favor. But with no 
 effect. They all respect and pity you, John ; but they all 
 think that policy demands your sacrifice. I see no hope," 
 added Pemberton, in an agonized voice. 
 
 "I gave up all hope when the Court-Martial made its 
 unanimous decision." said Andre, in a voice which did 
 not even falter. "I saw it in their faces that I should 
 have to die, to prove that they were true to their country 
 that Arnold's defection began and ended with himself. 
 Well, so be it ! I am prepared to die like a man. But I 
 would wish, also, to die like a soldier. Do you think, Ar- 
 thur, that Washington can refuse this last request ?' ' and 
 he opened a drawer and took out a sheet of paper. " Here 
 is a copy of a petition I have just forwarded. ' ' Pemberton 
 took it and read as follows : 
 
 " SIR : Buoyed above the terror of death by the con- 
 sciousness of a life devoted to honorable pursuits and 
 stained with no action that can give me remorse, I trust 
 that the request I make to your Excellency, at this serious 
 period, and which is to soften my last moments, will not 
 be rejected. 
 
 " Sympathy toward a soldier will surely induce your Ex- 
 cellency and a military tribunal to adapt the mode of my 
 death to the feelings of a man of honor. Let me hope,
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 365 
 
 sir, that if aught in my character impresses you with esteem 
 toward me, if aught in my misfortunes marks me the vic- 
 tim of policy, and not of resentment, I shall experience 
 the operation of those feelings in your heart, by being in- 
 formed that I am not to die on a gibbet. 
 
 " I have the honor to be your Excellency's most obedi- 
 ent and most humble servant,* JOHN ANDRE, 
 
 "Adjutant-General to the British army." 
 
 "Have you had any reply to this?" asked Pemberton, 
 with deep emotion. 
 
 "Not as yet. There has scarcely been time. Is it 
 properly worded ?' ' 
 
 " It could not be better. It reads like the man and 
 
 * N. P. Willis has beautifully paraphrased this letter to Washington, as follows : 
 " It is not the fear of death 
 
 That damps my brow ; 
 It is not for another breath 
 
 I ask thee now ; 
 I can die with a lip unstirred 
 
 And a quiet heart 
 Let but this prayer be heard 
 
 Ere I depart. 
 
 " I can give up my mother's lode- 
 My sister's kiss ; 
 
 I can think of love yet brook 
 A death like this ! 
 
 I can give up the young fame 
 I burned to win ; 
 
 All but the spotless name 
 I glory in. 
 
 " Thine is the power to gire, 
 
 Thine to deny, 
 Joy for the hour I live, 
 
 Calmness to die. 
 By all the brave should cherish, 
 
 By my dying breath, 
 I ask that I may perish 
 
 By a soldier's death."
 
 366 PEMBERTON J 
 
 gentleman you are. They must be cruel indeed, to deny 
 your request. But they will not deny it. No policy surely 
 can dictate that." 
 
 " It will be, I confess, a cruel blow to me if they deny 
 this poor last petition," rejoined Andre, with deep feeling. 
 "But whatever maybe the result, I trust I shall be able to 
 meet it with the composure of a man and the courage of a 
 soldier. It is crime alone that can make any punishment 
 ignominious and shameful ; and if I know my own heart, 
 my great object in this affair was to put an end to this un- 
 happy civil war, and to prevent the further shedding of 
 blood. I admit that I was ambitious but, as I am a true 
 man, Arthur, the motives I have given you were my lead- 
 ing motives." 
 
 "You had a right to be ambitious, John," said Pem- 
 berton, gazing with sorrowful eyes of admiration upon the 
 noble countenance of his friend "you, so accomplished, 
 so gifted ! You had the same right to be ambitious as a 
 young eagle has to use its wings." 
 
 "Alas," replied Andr6, with a sudd en revulsion of feel- 
 ing, " here is the end of all my ambitious dreams ! I have 
 reached the age of twenty-nine, and am a Major, and Ad- 
 jutant-General of the British army. It is little, Arthur, to 
 what I had hoped to attain, before the last page of my 
 history should be turned, and Finis written below it. If 
 I had succeeded I should have touched those steps which 
 lead up to the highest honors. I should have ended the 
 war. I should have pacified and fully satisfied every rea- 
 sonable man among your countrymen. I should have pre- 
 served this immense Continent to the British Empire and 
 the Protestant Faith. But one false step, one foolish 
 word, undid it all." 
 
 Andr6 paused, and seemed lost in his reflections. 
 
 Pemberton made no reply. He could not argue against
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 367 
 
 a man on the threshold of the grave although the officers 
 of the guard, who caught snatches of the conversation, 
 gazed at times curiously at him. 
 
 Andrd observed them not however, or cared not for 
 them and their thoughts. In a few moments he resumed. 
 
 "I suppose it was to be so however. It is difficult to 
 think that it was a mere chance, which a little more cau- 
 tion might have averted. You know the dream, Arthur, 
 that I told you about, the evening after our Wissahickon 
 adventure. And the Fortune-Teller's vision. One has 
 come true. The other doubtless will come true this day. 
 What of Westminster Abbey? Will that come true, too?" 
 
 "I have no doubt of it," Pemberton felt himself almost 
 impelled to reply. He could not himself analyze the im- 
 pelling force. Perhaps it was the mere humane wish to 
 comfort his friend. " I have no doubt that when they 
 hear at home of your sad fate, your name will be enrolled 
 at Westminster among the noblest and bravest of Eng- 
 land." 
 
 "Think you so?" exclaimed Andre, the cloud of grief 
 upon his face lightening " then I have not failed utterly, 
 after all. I might have died in battle any day, and the 
 annals of my country scarcely have known that such a man 
 as John Andre ever existed." 
 
 "You have written your name upon the enduring mar- 
 ble of your country's history, you may depend upon that," 
 rejoined Pemberton, with proud sympathy. 
 
 The door opened, and a young officer entered. It was 
 Colonel Hamilton. 
 
 He had been Andre's best friend since his capture, and 
 was well known to Pemberton. 
 
 "You are reprieved till noon to-morrow, Major," said 
 he, after shaking hands with both of them, but without 
 any manifestation of pleasure in his face.
 
 368 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " What does it mean?" questioned Andr6. 
 
 " Sir Henry Clinton has deputed General Robertson to 
 meet General Greene and make certain representations 
 relative to the case, and the true state of the facts. Of 
 course, courtesy to Sir Henry required the reprieve." 
 
 "I am very much obliged to Sir Henry for his kind- 
 ness," replied Andre, with emotion. "He has always 
 acted toward me more like a father and a friend than a 
 general. But of course it will amount to nothing," look- 
 ing at Hamilton. 
 
 " It will amount to nothing. It is a mere formality on 
 our part," replied Hamilton gloomily. "Though some 
 of the officers think I do not that Sir Henry is ready, 
 as a last resort, to offer in exchange for you that traitor, 
 Arnold." 
 
 "Never never never!" cried Andre impetuously, 
 springing to his feet. "To save his own son, his own 
 father, Sir Henry would never do that ! Not if Arnold 
 himself were to propose it. ' ' 
 
 " Of course not," said Hamilton. " I merely told you 
 what many think. But as to Arnold, the story goes, * to 
 give the devil his due,' that he really has proposed it to 
 Sir Henry." 
 
 "It is a nobler act than I should have given him credit 
 for," replied Andre, in whose mind, as our readers know, 
 Arnold's conduct had not left the most favorable impres- 
 sion, " but, of course, Sir Henry would not hear of it, and 
 I would not hear of it." 
 
 " I do not know that the story is true," said Hamilton. 
 "It is merely rumor." 
 
 " It is not entirely unlike Arnold's daring recklessness," 
 said Pemberton. " He once told me that he scarcely 
 knew what fear was. ' ' 
 
 " I believe that," rejoined Hamilton. " I saw him re-
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 369 
 
 ceive the Major's note, telling him that the game was up, 
 and go on with his breakfast, crunching some dry toast, 
 just as coolly as if nothing had happened. Then he made 
 an apology and left the table, and soon after was thunder- 
 ing down on horseback to the landing, thence into his 
 barge, and with his pistol in his hand, down the Hudson 
 to the Vulture. He must have been in the ship by the 
 time I started on horseback to intercept him at King's 
 Ferry." 
 
 " What do you suppose he would have done if you had 
 been in time?" queried Pemberton. 
 
 "Pushed through, if he could, in spite of us. If the 
 worst came, blown his own brains out. ' ' 
 
 "Colonel, to change the subject," said Andre, "has 
 any decision been come to, relative to that last request I 
 made to you?" 
 
 " I believe it is still under consideration," replied Ham- 
 ilton. " I can assure you, Major, it shall not fail from 
 want of any urging of mine." 
 
 " I should think it would not require any great amount 
 of urging, to gallant men and soldiers," rejoined Andre, 
 a little coldly and haughtily. 
 
 Hamilton rose to withdraw. " I will no longer inter- 
 rupt your conversation, gentlemen. Anything I can do 
 for either of you, shall be most cheerfully done, I assure 
 you." 
 
 When Hamilton had closed the door, Andre said 
 " That man is a true gentleman, Arthur. And more, he 
 seems to me the ablest man I have yet met among your 
 leaders. 1 have not seen Washington he appears to 
 avoid me." 
 
 "Washington is a man to whom the supreme thing is 
 his duty to his country. He means to be as just and im- 
 partial as eternal Fate. He is afraid, I judge, to see you ;
 
 370 PEMBERTON; 
 
 lest seeing you, his sympathy should cloud his judg. 
 ment." 
 
 Andre smiled. "Your friendship makes you too com- 
 plimentary by half, Arthur. From what I have heard of 
 your great leader, I am not the sun that could thaw in the 
 least such a perfect statue of ice. ' ' 
 
 " Indeed, you wrong him, John. If you knew him as I 
 do, you would do him justice. But I had intended to ask 
 whether there was any way in which I could be of service 
 to you." 
 
 " In no other way than by giving me as much of your 
 company as possible. Even to the very last," added An- 
 dre, with a deep breath. " I shall go more cheerfully to 
 the gallows or whatever it be if I can see your dear, 
 loving eyes as I go. You will not fear to witness what I 
 shall not fear to bear?" 
 
 Pemberton wrung his friend's hand. " I am not certain 
 that mine will not be the harder task ; but I will stand by 
 you, John, to the end." 
 
 " I knew you would, friend of my heart !" exclaimed 
 Andre, while the tears filled his eyes and fell upon the 
 hand of Pemberton. "And it seems to me, as you and I 
 sit here, the truest of friends, though arrayed under dif- 
 ferent banners, that it typifies what, in some way, in the 
 inscrutable providence of God, shall take place hereafter. 
 That the time shall come when the great fact of our being 
 created kindred shall prevail over all this foolish conten- 
 tion and bitterness ; and America and England be joined 
 once more, in heart and soul, if not in political bonds, 
 like two generous and loving brothers." 
 
 " God grant that it may be so !" exclaimed Pemberton 
 with enthusiasm. " Blood is indeed thicker than water ! ' ' 
 
 Nothing was said for a time, then Andre caught up the
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 371 
 
 pen, and made a rapid sketch. " Do you recognize the 
 scene?" asked he when it was completed. 
 
 " It looks like the Hudson, but I do not recognize the 
 place. ' ' 
 
 " It is the Hudson, as I saw it that wretched day from 
 the chamber of Smith's house. That is intended for the 
 Vulture. You see how wide the river is there, it is almost 
 a bay. It is a magnificent view, I can assure you ; but it 
 was a very sad one that day to me. So near safety, and 
 so impossible to reach it. I tell you, Arthur, it was like 
 looking over the walls into Paradise." 
 
 "May I keep it?" 
 
 " Of course. I drew it on purpose for you and for Isa- 
 bella. You said she was well. She is one of the very 
 noblest women I ever knew. Remember me to her, as to 
 the dearest loved of sisters. I had hoped to dance with 
 Helen at your wedding and then have you dance at ours. 
 Ah me ! Ah me ! ' Man is like the flower of the grass, 
 that to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven.' But 
 there is a kind Father, that rules all and controls all and 
 without whom not a sparrow falls to the ground. In this 
 belief, which my mother taught me, Arthur, I shall die 
 content yes, content ! 
 
 " I have written to my poor mother, and to my sisters 
 and brothers," added Andr after a pause. " It will be a 
 sad blow to them." 
 
 " Your will is it made ?" 
 
 " I fortunately drew it up before leaving New York, and 
 I have written to Captain Boissier about the disposal of 
 my effects. Yes, I think everything is done." 
 
 After some further desultory conversation, Pemberton 
 left, promising to call in again in the afternoon.
 
 372 PEMBERTON. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 CAPTAIN FANNY'S PLAN. 
 
 Give me but breathing time, I'll rescue him, 
 Though forty thousand sentries stood on guard. 
 With Argus at their head. 
 
 As Pemberton was riding homeward slowly, he observed 
 a solitary female figure standing beneath a tree on the side 
 of the road. Absorbed in his unhappy thoughts, and sup- 
 posing that it was merely some country maiden, he would 
 have ridden on, had not the girl accosted him with a 
 " Good-mornin' to ye, Mr. Pimberton." 
 
 "Why, is that you, Captain Fanny?" exclaimed he in 
 surprise. "What brings you up into this part of the 
 country ?' ' 
 
 "The same that brings you, Mr. Pimberton." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "The Major did my brither a great sarvice once, yer 
 honor. And you remimber how I carried love-letters be- 
 twixt him and Miss Hilin the magnificent crathure ! 
 And now they say he must be hung ! ' ' the tears that came 
 into Fanny's eyes proved her earnestness. 
 
 "I would give everything I have in the world to pre- 
 rent it, Fanny but I can do nothing." 
 
 " That is jist what I wanted to see yer honor about. 
 They say he is to die this avening." 
 
 "It has been put off until to-morrow at noon." 
 
 " 'Twill not do. It's not long enough, yer honor. Get 
 us a week only one week, yer honor and we can save 
 him." 
 
 "I will try," said Pemberton, turning his horse's head; 
 "but I have no faith that I can obtain one day's further
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 373 
 
 delay. You say if you had a week, you could save him ; 
 would your plan endanger any man's life?" 
 
 " No man's life but his and mine. And had he not 
 better die, in a bold push for fradom, than stay there and 
 be hung up like a dog?" 
 
 "I will try then what I can do," said Pemberton. 
 " Have you anything more to say to me than this?" 
 
 "Nothing, yer honor. Get me the week jist one lit- 
 tle week. For the sake of the blessed and merciful Virgin, 
 jist one week and I will answer for the rest, in spite of 
 their sax sentinels and two officers." 
 
 As Pemberton rode back toward headquarters, he ques- 
 tioned within himself as to Captain Fanny's competency 
 to perform her promise. But he had heard Morris speak 
 with so much admiration of Fanny's courage and capacity, 
 in a conversation suggested by the unexpected rencontre 
 between the two at his mother's house, that he did not 
 feel disposed to omit anything which offered even a possi- 
 ble chance for his friend's deliverance. If she failed, 
 matters could not be made worse. 
 
 Some may think that Pemberton in this matter was not 
 acting a very patriotic part. Probably they are correct. 
 But I am not depicting a model patriot, but only a fallible 
 man, who possessed in a strong degree the feelings of a 
 man. He did what I am narrating and must be judged 
 by the record. That he was not ashamed of what he did, 
 was proven by his frequent declarations after the war, 
 when talking over the matter with his friends, that if he 
 could have aided in Andre's escape, he would certainly 
 have done so. And he always further took the ground, 
 in opposition to the nearly unanimous sentiments of those 
 friends, that the execution of Andre was not called for 
 either by considerations of justice or of sound policy. So 
 much, in explanation and partial vindication of Pember-
 
 374 PEMBERTON j 
 
 ton's course. Though probably, after all, he was governed 
 in what he did, more by feeling than by reason. 
 
 When he arrived at Washington's headquarters, he found 
 the General surrounded by a number of his principal offi- 
 cers. As there was no time to be lost, he made known, 
 as soon as possible, the purport of his visit, pleading ear- 
 nestly just for one week's delay one little week. 
 
 " If you could give any good reason for such a delay, 
 Mr. Pemberton," replied Washington, "I would grant it. 
 But as all the facts have now been considered, and our 
 decision is irrevocable, it would simply be inflicting a week 
 of torture upon the prisoner, to grant your request. Do 
 you not think so, General ?' ' 
 
 General Greene, a large, portly man, in whose judg- 
 ment his Chief had great confidence, nodded his head 
 emphatically. 
 
 "It would be unwise, I think, in every respect. It 
 would be cruelty to the prisoner, cruelty to us whose un- 
 pleasant duty it is to be his guards and executioners, and 
 would bring down upon us a fresh load of threats, remon- 
 strances and Commissioners from Clinton. To the coun- 
 try it would look like an evidence of weakness perhaps 
 of fear. When the act is once done, then Clinton will 
 have to reconcile himself to it for as yet he has made no 
 positive threats of retaliation which he will feel bound in 
 honor to adhere to. I therefore give my judgment" 
 looking around the circle of officers "decidedly against 
 another day' s postponement. ' ' 
 
 A unanimous burst of assent from the officers followed 
 the close of Greene's remarks. 
 
 "You have your answer, Mr. Pemberton," said Wash- 
 ington, kindly but firmly; " there is but one opinion upon 
 the subject."
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 375 
 
 Pemberton bowed respectfully but coldly, and, making 
 no reply, left the room. 
 
 Fanny was awaiting his coming at the same spot. 
 
 "It is as I said; I can do nothing. Not a day will 
 they grant him." 
 
 " The murtherin' spalpeens !" exclaimed Fanny fiercely. 
 "Thin all is over! Good day, yer honor" and Fanny 
 wiped the tears from her eyes. 
 
 " How would you have saved him?" asked Pemberton, 
 checking his horse, which he had touched with the spur. 
 
 " Good strong brandy, and plinty of goold sover'ins, 
 and a line in a peach to the Major, and a fury of a fire at 
 midnight, and two good horses, and the Vulture down the 
 river ; it could ha' been done, yer honor. Besides, some 
 of the sentries already think it a divil of a shame to hang 
 such a swate jintleman 'specially two, who were in the 
 troop of Baylor's rigiment that the Major saved 'gainst 
 orders, at the night masseker at this very place." 
 
 Captain Fanny's face lighted up in thinking of the bold 
 scheme. " But it's all over now ; there's no time to save 
 him !" added Fanny, with a deep sigh. 
 
 And Pemberton again touched his horse with the spur, 
 and rode back to the farm-house.
 
 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE DEATH OF ANDRE. 
 
 There was glory on his forehead. 
 
 There was lustre in his eye, 
 And he never walked to battle 
 
 More proudly than to die. Aytoun's Montrose. 
 
 THE hour of noon had been appointed for Major Andre's 
 execution. Andre rose from his bed at his usual hour, and 
 after partaking of breakfast which was supplied him as 
 had been the custom, from Washington's own table began 
 to make his preparations for the solemn scene. His ser- 
 vant Laune had arrived from New York some days before 
 with a supply of clothing ; and Andre this morning shaved 
 and dressed himself with even more than his usual care. 
 He wore the rich scarlet uniform, faced with green, of a Brit- 
 ish officer ; though without the customary sash and sword. 
 
 When Pemberton entered about eleven o'clock, he 
 thought he had never seen a more splendid face and figure. 
 The face was of a deadly paleness the brow especially 
 showing like a clear pale marble beneath the clustering 
 masses of raven hair. The features appeared even more 
 refined and intellectual than was their wont ; and the beau- 
 tiful expression which sat upon them, and shone forth from 
 his deep and melancholy eyes, was such as naturally takes 
 captive the hearts of men, and fills with devoted enthusi- 
 asm the souls of women. 
 
 " He is the handsomest man I ever saw!" exclaimed 
 one of the officers in attendance, to Pemberton ; " and the 
 most gentle and winning." 
 
 " lam glad you have come in good time, Arthur," said 
 Andre with a serene composure. " You see I mean to die
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 377 
 
 in the dress of a British officer. How is Helen this morn- 
 ing?" 
 
 " She is still lying unconscious but we think she is 
 rather better." 
 
 ' ' Thank God ! Do not forget what I told you about 
 the miniature. What a sad ending to her happy dream ! 
 But I must not think any more of that save to feel that 
 her proud eyes are upon me, to see that I blench not nor 
 tremble in this closing hour." 
 
 Pemberton's heart was ready to burst, but he knew his 
 duty to his friend too well to allow his sorrowful feelings 
 to master him for a moment. 
 
 " To the brave, true soul, John, all that men can do is 
 nothing. The heart right, and the conscience clear, as 
 yours are, my friend, and we can say well-met to death, 
 without a shudder. ' ' 
 
 "Are you ready, Major?" said one of the officers. 
 " I am ready," replied Andre proudly. 
 As Andr6 emerged from the prison into the free, fresh 
 air, he took a deep breath, and gazed up into the beautiful 
 blue sky above him, hazy and golden with the glory he so 
 much loved of an October day. He walked arm-in-arm 
 between the two officers, Pemberton walking near him. A 
 captain's command of thirty or forty men marched im- 
 mediately around them, and Andre glanced expressively 
 to Pemberton when he saw these, for he thought they 
 were the firing party, and that his last request had been 
 granted. 
 
 An outer guard of five hundred men also attended, at 
 the head of which rode nearly all the principal officers of 
 the army, with the exception of Washington and his staff, 
 who from a feeling of delicacy remained in-doors. Large 
 crowds of the soldiery, and of the citizens from the sur- 
 rounding country, also were present.
 
 378 PEMBERTON j 
 
 As Andre passed on, he retained his composure in a 
 wonderful degree nodding and speaking pleasantly to 
 those officers with whom he was acquainted ; especially to 
 those who had constituted the court-martial. 
 
 The gallows had been erected on the summit of an emi- 
 nence that commanded a wide view of the surrounding 
 country. It was also in full view of Washington's head- 
 quarters ; but the doors and shutters of the latter were 
 closed, not a soul was to be seen, save the usual sentinels 
 pacing in front of the house. 
 
 As the mournful procession turned from the high road 
 into the meadow, Andre first saw the gallows. He sud- 
 denly recoiled, and paused for a moment. 
 
 "I thought you meant to spare me this indignity !" he 
 exclaimed, almost passionately. 
 
 "We have simply to obey our orders," replied one of 
 the officers. 
 
 "Gentlemen, you are making a great mistake," cried 
 Pemberton to a couple of higher officers, who were riding 
 near. 
 
 "If we are, we are doing it honestly, and because we 
 think it our duty," replied one of them. 
 
 Andre moved on. " I must drink the cup to the dregs, 
 it seems," he said with deep emotion. "But it will soon 
 be over." The pleasant smile, however, had vanished 
 from his face. It was evident that what he thought a 
 needless indignity, cut sharper than the sentence of death 
 itself. 
 
 The gallows was simply a rude but lofty gibbet, with a 
 wagon drawn under it. Inside the wagon was a roughly- 
 made coffin, painted black. As Andre stood near the 
 wagon, awaiting some brief preparations, his agony seemed 
 almost more than he could bear ; his throat sinking and 
 swelling as though convulsed, while he rolled a pebble to
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 379 
 
 and fro under one of his feet. Laune, his servant, totally 
 overcome, burst out into loud weepings and lamentations. 
 This seemed to rouse and restore his master, who turned 
 to him, and uttered some cheering and comforting words. 
 All around there were solemn faces, and many were even 
 in tears. 
 
 At a word from one of the officers, Andr6 flung his arms 
 round Pemberton's neck and kissed him, and sprang lightly 
 but with evident loathing into the baggage-wagon, stand- 
 ing upon the coffin. Then he looked around him upon 
 his executioner, with his blackened face ; upon the sad- 
 dened soldiery and the mournful crowd ; upon the glorious 
 landscape, resplendent with the hues of Autumn, and melt- 
 ing gradually away into the hazy distance. Then the old, 
 proud look came back into his face and he seemed more 
 like a hero, mounted in the car of triumph, and prepared 
 to receive the acclamations of his followers, than a man 
 about to suffer a shameful death. 
 
 The executioner approached him, but he waved him 
 away with a grand disdain, and tossing his hat to the 
 ground, removed his stock, opened wide his shirt-collar, 
 and taking the noose, adjusted it himself properly about his 
 neck. On his face was a proud disgust as he did this 
 as if he said without useless words, " You have the power ; 
 and though you use your power meanly, I am man and 
 soldier enough to submit to it!" Then he bound his 
 handkerchief over his eyes. 
 
 The order of execution was read loudly and impressively 
 by Adjutant-General Scammel. At its conclusion, Colonel 
 Scammel informed the prisoner that he might speak, if he 
 had anything to say. 
 
 Lifting the bandage from his eyes, and gazing around 
 once more, as if that last look of earth and sun and sky
 
 380 PEMBERTON; 
 
 and human faces was sweet indeed, Andre said in a proud, 
 clear voice : 
 
 "Bear witness, gentlemen, that I die in the service of 
 my country, as becomes a British officer and a brave man." 
 
 The hangman now drew near with a piece of cord to 
 bind his arms ; but, recoiling from his snaky touch, Andre 
 swept his hand aside, and drawing another handkerchief 
 from his pocket, allowed his elbows to be loosely fastened 
 behind his back. Then he said in a firm voice " I am 
 ready !" 
 
 Almost at the word, the wagon was rolled swiftly away, 
 and, with a terrible jerk and shock, the noble soul of John 
 Andr6 was severed from the beautiful frame with which 
 the Creator had clothed it. 
 
 And there was a solemn stillness through all the multi- 
 tude gathered around, broken only by the sound of weep- 
 ing. For all felt that this was no common man ; and that 
 he had done nothing worthy of death. Only that it was 
 necessary that he should die for the good of their country.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 381 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 FIVE YEARS AFTER. 
 
 O thou that sendest out the men, 
 
 To rule by land and sea, 
 Strong mother of a Lion line, 
 Be proud of those strong sons of thine, 
 
 Who wrench'd their rights from thee. Tennyson. 
 
 NEARLY five years had passed since the death of Major 
 Andre. The war was over. The "Triumph" appro- 
 priate name had arrived at Philadelphia, bringing letters 
 from Lafayette to the President of Congress, informing him 
 that a Treaty of Peace had been signed at Paris. And on 
 the i Qth of April, 1783 precisely eight years after the 
 opening of the conflict at Lexington Washington pro- 
 claimed the Cessation of Hostilities in the General Orders 
 to his faithful Army. 
 
 The war therefore had been over for more than two 
 years. In fact it had really been over since the surrender 
 of Cornwallis in the Autumn of 1 781. That, and Greene's 
 successes in the Carolinas, had turned the scales against 
 the British. As we have said before, both parties were 
 tired out, and a great reverse to either was enough to settle 
 the contest against the loser. 
 
 Helen Graham did not die though she lay at the point 
 of death for many weeks, and did not recover sufficiently 
 to return to Philadelphia, until the ensuing Spring. 
 
 We have said that she did not die, but we feel like 
 amending the expression. The beautiful, serene lady, 
 with shining masses of silvery hair, who came back to 
 Philadelphia, could hardly be called the Helen Graham 
 that is known to our readers. That was an ardent, im- 
 pulsive, proud, passionate, and wayward girl this was a 
 quiet, composed, and unexcitable, though also, in her
 
 382 PEMBERTON J 
 
 different way, lovely woman. There seemed to be a mys- 
 tery in the change, which puzzled all her friends her sister 
 more than all. It was as if she had been transformed 
 or else that she had lost some portion of her original es- 
 sence and spirit, in those cruel days of pain, and that the 
 remaining and quieter elements of her character had crys- 
 tallized into a new form, which shone with a milder radi- 
 ance. 
 
 At the declaration of peace, Pemberton and Isabella 
 had been married, with the full approbation of Colonel 
 Musgrave, who after attending the wedding, had sailed 
 with his regiment for England. They were still living 
 with Mrs. Pemberton as before, and Helen, as a matter of 
 course, resided with them. 
 
 Captain Morris, upon the cessation of hostilities, had 
 entered into a partnership with Pemberton, for the carry- 
 ing on of a mercantile business in Philadelphia. He was 
 the active business man of the firm ; Pemberton furnishing 
 the greater part of the capital, but devoting a good deal of 
 his time to his favorite studies. The times were happily 
 " slower ' ' then than now, and it did not need that a man 
 should give himself entirely up to his business body, soul 
 and spirit or else run a great risk of becoming a bank- 
 rupt. That fierceness of competition, which spares neither 
 the man himself, nor his dearest friends which immolates 
 whatever stands in its way, unhesitatingly and unscrupu- 
 lously, on the shrine of Mammon, and then takes its seat 
 on Sunday, in the high places of the Church, and even 
 perhaps " runs" a church of its own had not yet become 
 one of the distinguishing features of our American city 
 life. Men were then industrious in their business, and 
 being also moderate in their desires, and economical in 
 their expenditures, had time to think of something else 
 than the mere adding of dollar to dollar.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 383 
 
 Captain Morris was a frequent, a very frequent visitor 
 of the Pembertons. The hospitable mansion of his friend, 
 with its pleasant grounds, extending to the line of Dock 
 creek, was a pleasant place for any one to visit. And 
 knowing the whole family so well, and moreover being a 
 cousin, the gallant captain always felt perfectly at home. 
 He was not there perhaps every evening but his visits 
 were certainly oftener than every other evening ; and he 
 walked in as naturally, and hung up his hat, without ask- 
 ing for any one in particular, as we all probably have en- 
 joyed doing at some happy period of our lives, when for- 
 tune for a time has smiled propitiously upon us, and placed 
 us in relation to some delightful family on a footing of the 
 most intimate friendship. 
 
 Helen always received him with the greatest cordiality 
 on such occasions but in her serene and composed way, 
 and without the least embarrassment. If the outside world 
 said, and Arthur and Isabella thought, that Philip was still 
 as enamoured as ever, Helen never seemed to know or 
 care. She treated him with the kindness and familiarity 
 which she would have shown to a brother ; and either re- 
 membering and respecting her sad past, or else calmed 
 and quieted by her sisterly manner, Morris never breathed 
 a word scarcely gave a look which would convey the 
 impression that he felt still the old, determined passion. 
 
 Other suitors, and avowed ones, however, Helen had 
 had, and some that would persist in their suit, notwith- 
 standing the intimations of her manner, until they received 
 in words the fatal negative. One of them, a Colonel 
 Avery, only a few days before the time of which we are 
 speaking, had opened his heart to Morris, as to a friend of 
 both parties, and asked him whether he thought it would 
 be safe to venture a proposal. Morris felt the awkward- 
 ness of his own position, but replied :
 
 384 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 " 'Faint heart never won fair lady,' you know, Colonel. 
 I must confess I think your chance is a doubtful one ; but 
 you cannot be more than refused and that in the sweetest 
 and most ladylike manner." 
 
 What the issue had been, or whether the Colonel had 
 really put the matter to the test, Morris did not know 
 but during the whole of the next week, he never met the 
 Colonel at the Pemberton mansion. 
 
 This was June. And on a beautiful sunny afternoon, 
 the next Sunday but one after the counsel given to the 
 Colonel, Helen and himself had strolled out into the 
 grounds, and taken a seat on a shaded bench near the 
 outer line of the garden. Ah, for the ravages of time ! 
 Where that bench stood, is now neither garden, nor lofty 
 buttonwoods, nor visible creek. There the money-changer, 
 high-priest of Mammon, sits and arranges his subtle plans ; 
 and all around, the "bulls" and "bears" more savage 
 than those of the fields and the wilderness toss and tear 
 each other. 
 
 At a pause of the conversation, Morris looked up and 
 said, "I have not seen Colonel Avery here lately." 
 
 "No," replied Helen, while a slight glow came into 
 her usually clear, white cheeks, "I believe he has started 
 on a trip Northward." 
 
 ' ' He asked my advice about a week ago, upon a certain 
 matter, and I told him that ' Faint heart never won fair 
 lady,' " continued Morris, with a smile. 
 
 The glow deepened a little upon Helen's face. "You 
 did wrong, my friend. You ought to have known that 
 my days of love were over." 
 
 "I suppose I ought," rejoined Morris, a little bitterly; 
 " but, you see, it is a hard lesson for me to learn." 
 
 Helen turned her eyes full upon his face. "The girl 
 perished that you loved, Philip j and it was well, for she
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 385 
 
 could never have returned your love. ' ' She spoke in the 
 kindest and gentlest of voices. 
 
 " The girl that I loved did not perish ; and the woman 
 I love still lives, as beautiful and precious to me, this day, 
 as ever ! ' ' exclaimed Morris passionately, but rather avoid- 
 ing the mild blue eyes bent serenely upon him. 
 
 " Oh, Philip, my poor boy !" she said, with more emo- 
 tion than she had hitherto shown, "such warm love as 
 yours deserves true love in return. Philip, I am not capa- 
 ble of loving. All that was so fervent and passionate in 
 my nature, went out from me that awful day. I am a 
 marvel now to myself. I picked up an old letter not long 
 since one written, but not sent, for want of a messenger 
 and read it all over. It sounded so strangely to me ! I 
 said to myself can I be the Helen Graham whose name 
 is signed to those burning words ? I do not think I could 
 write such a letter now to any one, not even to him, 
 should he come back again to life. No, Philip, Helen 
 Graham all that was glorious and precious about her is 
 dead ? This is the mere case which held the finer spirit." 
 
 " I know you are greatly changed, Helen. How could 
 it be otherwise?" replied Morris, in tones that quivered 
 with the excess of his emotion, now breaking forth anew 
 after those years of constant repression. "But you are 
 still to me the Helen Graham to whom I declared my boy- 
 ish passion at the Mischianza. Or, if not the same Helen, 
 an even nobler and more seraphic one. It is you, as you are, 
 Helen, whom I love, and I shall never love any other woman. ' ' 
 
 " Poor, foolish boy !" rejoined Helen, as she pityingly 
 smoothed with her white hand the hair over his forehead, 
 apparently unconscious how he thrilled beneath her cool, 
 calm touch. "And would you, Philip, marry a woman 
 who says she does not love you one who, as she is now, 
 could not love any one ?' '
 
 386 PEMBERTON J^ 
 
 " I would marry you, Helen this moment. I love 
 you, and, as you know, always have loved you. I have 
 love enough for both, Helen." 
 
 "If I thought it would be right and that it would be 
 acting fairly toward you," and Helen paused. She was 
 evidently considering the matter. There was no embar- 
 rassment in her voice, and her calm, affectionate eyes did 
 not avoid the ardent glances of the passionate soul which 
 looked out of the eyes of her companion. 
 
 "Oh, Helen, my only love, say yes, and make me 
 happy!" whispered Morris, in the delirium of his unex- 
 pected bliss. ' ' I know you love me more than any other 
 man in this wide world. If not, why have you refused 
 those others ?' ' 
 
 " Of course, Philip, I should not think for a moment of 
 marrying any living man but you," replied Helen, in a 
 composed but affectionate tone. "I always did like you 
 greatly, Philip. And if I marry you, it will be because I 
 like you, and value your happiness so much and because 
 you are so foolish as to think so highly of me. But, if I 
 do marry you, Philip, and you get tired of me, and think 
 you have made a great mistake, I shall not blame you in 
 the least, my friend." 
 
 " If I do, just take one of my pistols and blow my silly 
 brains out," exclaimed Morris, in high rapture. "Oh, 
 Helen, my pearl of great price, you cannot imagine how 
 happy you have made me!" And Morris, for the first 
 time in his life, put his arm around the woman he had 
 always loved so madly, and kissed her ripe red lips. 
 
 A rather deeper tint came upon Helen's cheeks, but 
 she not only allowed, but returned the kiss. Then she said : 
 
 " One thing I can promise you, Philip ; that I will be 
 a faithful and affectionate wife to you careful of you and
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 387 
 
 your interests in all things. If I cannot love you, as you 
 deserve to be loved, I can at least honor and obey as well 
 and I think a little better, than almost any other woman 
 you would be apt to meet." Helen said this in a low, 
 sweet, earnest tone that was enchanting to Morris, what- 
 ever it might have been to a more exacting lover. 
 
 " I know you will make a perfect wife for you are a 
 perfect woman !" exclaimed he, devotedly, looking upon 
 her with rapture, as if from the heights of Paradise. " I 
 always said I intended to marry you, Helen, from the first 
 day I saw you, when you saved my life at Germantown 
 you, and no one else and in spite of all obstacles and 
 now, you see, my words are coming true." 
 
 Helen smiled sweetly, and rising they took their way 
 back to the house. And there was such a triumphant ex- 
 pression on Philip's face when they entered the parlor, 
 and such a soft, sweet look in Helen's eyes, that Isabella 
 shot a meaning glance over to her husband, and then rose 
 and kissed her sister on both cheeks. 
 
 " Philip has been asking me to do a very foolish thing," 
 she said, in answer, with a smile. 
 
 "lam glad that you consented, Helen," replied Isa- 
 bella. " There is no other man in the world I would like 
 to give you to and Philip could not be happy with any 
 other woman. He will wear you like a wondrous pearl, 
 ma belle Helene." 
 
 And so Helen and Philip, in the course of the ensuing 
 Autumn, were married. At Helen's request it was a very 
 quiet wedding, and Morris, man like, cared but little, now 
 he had secured the bride he wished, whether the marriage 
 knot was tied in the presence of ten or of ten thousand be- 
 holders. Helen was dressed beautifully but not showily 
 and she smilingly said when they came to arrange her 
 hair, that it was already powdered.
 
 388 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 But never had a more beautiful bride given away her 
 hand in marriage, even in her own city of fair women. 
 And the shining coils of her silvery hair were not the 
 smallest of her charms they seemed so in harmony with 
 the fair white cheeks, and the serene brow, while they 
 added depth and lustre to the calm violet eyes. 
 
 As for Morris, he looked the very image of what a bride- 
 groom should be full of life and ardor, and all glowing 
 with the fervor of manhood's love. This was the day of 
 days for him and he felt every inch of him a king ; for 
 was he not to wed his Queen ? 
 
 And these two, as also Pemberton and Isabella, lived 
 thenceforth a happy life till death did them part in our 
 own goodly city of Philadelphia. And they had sons and 
 daughters, to rise up and call them blessed. And Morris 
 never regretted that he had married where he was not 
 deeply loved for, as he had said, he had love enough for 
 both. And in the serene and beautiful woman who was a. 
 perpetual fountain of sweetness to all around her, he recog- 
 nized what was to him the very highest ideal of a perfect 
 womanhood. 
 
 Pemberton also was fully satisfied for he too had found 
 his ideal woman. A nobler woman than Isabella Pember- 
 ton never drew the breath of life. As compared with her 
 sister, she was now the more impassioned of the two. And 
 such was necessary to satisfy the heart of Pemberton, who, 
 in one sense, had not enough love for both. He pleased 
 Isabella the better because he had not. She was a glorious 
 creature ; and Pemberton, as he was, with his deficiencies 
 as well as his superiorities, filled her eye. She would not 
 have altered him, nor he her, one jot or tittle. Even 
 when their years increased, and Time began to make his 
 changes, they would not have had it otherwise. Such as 
 theirs are the marriages which are made in Heaven !
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 389 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 IT only remains to add a few lines of information and 
 elucidation, and then we shall conclude this little history. 
 
 The Sibyl's prediction as to Westminster Abbey came 
 true. When the sad news of Major Andrews death reached 
 England, the greatest sorrow and sympathy were mani- 
 fested. The latter found expression in many ways. The 
 King instantly ordered a thousand guineas from the privy 
 purse to be given to Andrews mother, and an annual pen- 
 sion of ^300 to be settled on her for life, and afterwards 
 to be paid to her children. And a Baronetcy was con- 
 ferred upon his brother, Captain William Lewis Andre, of 
 the 26th Regiment, and upon his heirs male forever. 
 
 In addition to the above substantial proofs of a nation's 
 sympathy, a stately cenotaph was erected, and now stands 
 in Westminster Abbey. It is of statuary marble, and on 
 a panel is to be read the following inscription : " Sacred 
 to the memory of Major John Andre, who, raised by his 
 merits, at an early period of his life, to the rank of Ad- 
 jutant-General of the British Forces in America, and em- 
 ployed in an important but hazardous enterprise, fell a 
 sacrifice to his zeal for his King and Country, on the ad 
 of October, 1780, aged twenty-nine, universally beloved 
 and esteemed by the army in which he served, and la- 
 mented even by his foes. His gracious Sovereign, King 
 George III., has caused this monument to be erected." 
 
 Forty-one years afterwards, the remains of John Andre", 
 including a few locks of the once beautiful hair, were dis- 
 interred by the order of the Duke of York, at the sugges- 
 tion of Mr. Buchanan, the British consul, from the lonely 
 grave at Tappan, and placed in a costly sarcophagus, hung 
 with black and crimson, for removal to England. Amid 
 the deep sympathy of his former foes, all that remained of 
 the once glorious face and form was gathered tenderly to-
 
 390 PEMBERTON ; 
 
 gather, and the faces of men grew sad, as they thought over 
 the old story, and fair women sent garlands to decorate the 
 bier. And thus, with all honor, and due solemnity, the 
 bones of one of England's most accomplished and chivalric 
 sons were borne home, and deposited near his monument, 
 in that shrine sacred to the memory of her departed great- 
 ness and glory. 
 
 But though the prediction thus came true, apparently 
 in all its features, as to Andr6, it evidently failed, so far as 
 it went at least in details as to Helen. It is not our 
 part to account for this, but only to state the fact. 
 
 As to Madame Dumont herself, she left America soon 
 after the war, and sailed for Europe. In Paris she found 
 a wider field for her art, and a more congenial atmosphere. 
 There, under another name, she startled thousands, and 
 even titled personages and crowned heads, with the mar- 
 vellous magnetism of her presence, and the wonderful ac- 
 curacy of many of her predictions. 
 
 It may be that some of our readers feel an interest in 
 knowing what became of Captain Fanny. The reckless 
 Captain, under the name and in the masculine dress of 
 Captain Francis Malone, took no small share of glory to 
 himself for the part which he and his twin-sister Fanny, 
 he said had taken in obtaining information for the 
 American commanders during the war. Fanny, he alleged, 
 had died about the conclusion of hostilities. Of course, 
 there really had been no such twin-sister ; but it answered 
 the Captain's purposes to invent a personage of this char- 
 acter, who could bear some suspicions and inquiries that 
 might perhaps be a little troublesome to himself. 
 
 Helen was deceived entirely, and for all her life, by this 
 adroit imposture. Captain Fanny and Captain Francis 
 were, to her mind, two persons ; and she was well pleased, 
 as the Captain intended she should be, in thinking this.
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 39! 
 
 As the years went on, the Captain became a famous 
 politician caring no more, however, for the "great prin- 
 ciples" which divided parties, than he had formerly cared 
 for those which divided rebel and tory. In truth, it 
 seemed to him the very height of the ridiculous, that the 
 same men who had once been banded together as rebels, 
 should afterwards be nearly as bitter against each other as 
 they had been against the common foe. This was a stand- 
 ing joke with the Captain, whenever it was safe to utter 
 it ; and confirmed him in his opinion of the utter folly of 
 having any principles at all, save those which added to 
 the holder's comforts. The Captain therefore was first an 
 ardent Federalist, and afterwards an equally ardent Anti- 
 Federalist never getting on the losing side, except when 
 he made a mistake ; and having a most wonderful sagacity, 
 the result of his perfect coolness, as to the current of the 
 popular opinion. So the Captain, on the strength of his 
 many patriotic services during the war, and his apparent 
 devotion to the winning side, became first a Justice of the 
 Peace, then a member of the City Councils, and finally a 
 Representative in the State Legislature. That was about 
 as high as such a man could get in those aristocratic times ; 
 but if he had lived now-a-days, he doubtless would hare 
 gone on until he became a member of Congress, a Gover- 
 nor, and possibly a Senator of the United States. 
 
 A few words more relative to Benedict Arnold, and we 
 must conclude. Arnold did not obtain the high rewards 
 for which he had bargained, and doubtless would have re- 
 ceived in case of his success. He was made however a 
 Brigadier General in the British service, and received be- 
 sides the sum of seven thousand pounds. 
 
 Small pay this, however, for the curses heaped upon 
 him by his indignant countrymen. His name became a 
 word of loathing to them. Probably no man was ever
 
 39 PEMBERTONJ 
 
 more bitterly and generally hated by the country which 
 gave him birth. Secret plans were set on foot to entrap 
 him. And orders were given, in case of his capture, to 
 hang him at once, and without a trial ; orders which would 
 have been rigorously and eagerly followed. 
 
 The knowledge of these things, or the failure of his great 
 schemes, acting on the natural sternness and severity of 
 his character, made him fierce and cruel. He headed 
 predatory expeditions against his old friends, and ravaged 
 the coast even of his native State with fire and sword. 
 Thousands would have delighted to shoot him, and yet, 
 while exposing himself on these adventures, he seemed to 
 bear a charmed life. Neither secret wile nor open war- 
 fare touched him. 
 
 He went to England, and was received with honor by 
 the King, as a repentant subject, who had done the State 
 some service, and would have done it more. But the 
 contempt which follows Treason especially when it is 
 allied with Failure attended him, more or less, shouting 
 or whispering its detestation, wherever his footsteps trod. 
 Perhaps he derived some consolation amid the ^'^ternesa 
 which thus always accompanied him, from the steadfast 
 affection of his young and lovely wife, who seems to have 
 been kept in entire ignorance of his projected treason, 
 but who joined him afterwards in New York, and while 
 he lived, continued faithful to him and to his fortunes. 
 
 Tradition tells we know not how truly a story 
 like this. When the last days of Arnold approached, the 
 enfeebled but still stern old man seemed to grow restless 
 and unquiet, as if he missed something that was dear to 
 his heart. At length, on the last day of his eventful and 
 stormy life, when the final hour seemed to be drawing near, 
 he bade them bring him the old and faded blue-and-buff 
 uniform which he had worn when a Major General in the
 
 OR, ONE HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 393 
 
 Continental service. Smiling grimly when he saw it, he 
 dragged himself from his bed, and mustered up strength 
 sufficient to array his wasted frame in the old, rejected 
 garb. There he was again, a Major General of his coun- 
 try, with the blade which he had so effectively wielded in 
 her cause on so many hard-fought fields, girded once more 
 by his side. Drawing himself up for a moment to his full 
 height, the dying General forgot his treason, and waving 
 his sword in his hand, as he so often had waved it in the 
 heat of battle, he shouted, " On, my brave fellows / " and 
 fell at full length, dead, on the couch before him. If this 
 tradition be true, it may mingle with the memories of his 
 early and heroic services, and lead a forgiving country 
 to drop a tear even over the follies and the crime of Bene- 
 dict Arnold.
 
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