Tale of 
 Revolution 
 
 H* TV 
 
 i^^x A -X^^rraRr fc 
 

 
 / / 
 
 4 IL-
 
 My Grandmother.
 
 THE 
 
 SILVER BUCKLE 
 
 A STORY OF THE 
 
 BY 
 
 M. NATALINE CRUMPTON 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY CORNELIA E. BEDFORD 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 HENRY ALTEMUS
 
 PRELUDE. 
 
 " And what delights c-an equal those 
 
 That stir the spirit s inner deeps, 
 When one that loves but knows not, reaps 
 A truth from one that loves and knows?" 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 IT is natural to take pleasure in recollections of the past, and 
 to feel an interest in prophecies of the future. The old man delights 
 in every opportunity to begin a tale, " When I was young," or to 
 show his wisdom by foretelling how things will be " twenty years 
 from now." The child makes countless plans that begin with the 
 words, " When I am big/ and listens eagerly to stories of things that 
 happened long ago. This natural instinct is fostered and encouraged 
 by Memory and Imagination. Is it any wonder that, in the early 
 stages of civilization, when life s horizon was small, the history and 
 the literature of a people were preserved by tradition only? 
 
 My grandmother was one of those blessed persons who have the 
 ability to tell interesting stories to the young. In my early child 
 hood she began with the old nursery rhymes and jingles; then she 
 advanced to fables and fairy tales; then came ballads of war and 
 love; and lastly, in the dawning years of my womanhood, she told me 
 many adventures and romances of real life. 
 
 All her stories were of the purest character, and were told 
 with dramatic fervor, tone and gesture responding to sentiment. She 
 repeated a story for the twentieth time with the same patient exact 
 ness that she had shown at first, and I listened with the same in 
 spiring attention. As the years passed there came a gentle tremor 
 to her tone, a slight hesitation to her speech; there was a little effort 
 
 5
 
 6 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 in recalling details, but the interest of narrator and of listener never 
 flagged. 
 
 A favorite story was one connected with her mother s youth. 
 The bare outlines of this were often told me in my childhood, but 
 in the later years of my girlhood the story was repeated with minute 
 descriptions of place and character, with timely comments and 
 appropriate discussions. She had heard the story from her mother 
 a hundred times, she had been familiar with some of the scenes, she 
 had known some of the actors, and had in her possession a number 
 of their letters and a few well-preserved pages of an old diary. 
 
 And to my grandmother s unwritten story there was one allur 
 ing illustration, serving as frontispiece and finis, present to my eyes, 
 perceptible to my touch, a pair of silver buckles. These silver 
 relics are now mine; the hands that caressed them are folded, the 
 voice that charmed me is silent. Still the recollection of the story 
 fascinates me, and I have resolved to relate it to others. In doing 
 so I shall find delight, and may perhaps give pleasure.
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 DOUBT. 
 
 " The heart has reasons that reason does not know." 
 
 Pascal. 
 
 IT was Indian summer of the year 1774. In the back parlor of 
 a plain two-story brick house, in the vicinity of Christ Church, in the 
 populous city of Philadelphia, there sat two women. 
 
 They belonged to the sect called in ruder speech " Quakers/ but 
 known to every cultivated Philadelphia!! as " Friends." They were 
 peaceful, placid-looking women, past the boundary of early woman 
 hood, but not yet knocking at the portal of old age. Indeed, their 
 season was not unlike the beautiful Indian summer, whose gracious 
 presence filled the place with balmy air and mellow light. They 
 had come from England in the same ship more than ten years ago, 
 they dwelt near each other and were very intimate, heart answering 
 unto heart. 
 
 " Xow, Susan, said Rachel Fuller, in a tone of mild earnestness, 
 " thee knows my perplexity. I cannot see whether the way is open 
 for me to tell Hilda now or not." 
 
 Rachel and her visitor, Susan Walton, were knitting without 
 seeming to notice their work, and with a skill suggestive of relaxation 
 rather than labor. 
 
 " Well, Rachel," answered Susan, " does thee want to tell her? " 
 
 " I must tell her some time. Susan: I consider the affair a trust. 
 But T shrink from putting such fancies into her head, so I am trying 
 to think it right to wait a little longer." 
 
 "Rachel, why not treat the matter differently? Thee has no 
 sympathy with that foolish old jest, so give the silver buckle to Hilda 
 7
 
 8 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 as a relic that belonged to her father, but do not tell her the story. 
 Surely thee is not bound to aid such folly; thee was no party to the 
 bargain." 
 
 " Nay, Susan; according to my light, I am a party to the bar 
 gain, though not by intent or purpose." 
 
 Susan laid her knitting down upon her black silk apron, and 
 looked at Rachel with astonishment and curiosity. 
 
 " When I wrote for Hilda to come from England, after her moth 
 er s death, I asked that Miriam s small personal effects might be 
 sent also, promising to hold them in trust for Hilda till she was old 
 enough to have them. And, Susan Walton, thee cannot think what 
 a faintness came over me when I unpacked the little sea-chest and 
 found the silver buckle. I felt that the true responsibility of the 
 trust included the telling of the old story." 
 
 " Has the buckle been a thorn in the flesh all these years, 
 Rachel?" 
 
 " Xay, Susan, I can hardly say that; for during Hilda s child 
 hood I had no call to think of the matter. I always hoped that 
 when the right time came there would be something to guide me; 
 but, as yet, I have no clear light. Hilda is past seventeen, thee knows, 
 and womanly beyond her years." 
 
 The two women sat silent for a few moments. The afternoon 
 was waning, but golden beams still brightened one side of the room. 
 Above the mantel shelf hung a quaint sampler in a gilt frame. The 
 sampler displayed a medley of devices, a large peacock, a wreath of 
 stars, a church, a row of trees, an open book, a harp, a castle, a motto 
 at top and bottom, and the plain statement that "Hilda Sedgeley 
 wrought this sampler in the tenth year of her age." The mottoes, 
 though perfectly familiar, seemed quaint and startling because of 
 their strange surroundings. For above the incongruous devices were 
 the words: " Resist the devil, and he will flee from you; " and at the 
 lower margin was this record: " Blessed are the pure in heart." 
 
 The upper part of the sampler was now in shadow, but a linger 
 ing ray of sunshine still illumined the beatitude. Susan s eye rested 
 upon it, and a new train of thought was started. 
 
 The sampler had been a matter of discussion with her and 
 Rachel when the youthful artist was portraying the designs. Susan
 
 THE SILVER RUCKLE. 
 
 The two women sat silent for a few minutes.
 
 10 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 would have had the task of the little needlewoman guided, but Rachel 
 had a feeling that Hilda ought to exercise her own fancy. 
 
 " The trouble is, Rachel," said Susan, gently, " that thee has 
 brought Hilda up according to thy sister Miriam s views, not thine." 
 
 "Rather, Susan, I have tried to teach Hilda her mother s views 
 as well as mine, and have allowed her freedom of opinion." 
 
 " Yea, Rachel, I understand the delicacy of thy motives in re 
 gard to Hilda, but some of the Friends have not hesitated to say 
 that thee has lost a great opportunity by not rearing Hilda in strict 
 accordance with Friends principles. ". ]. -know whit they would advise 
 in this dilemma. They would think it thy duty to ignore the past." 
 
 " Ignore the past? * sai<3 Rachel, with a quiver of excitement in 
 her tone, "ignore the past? blot out my youth? forget the lovely 
 sister from whom I was never absent one whole day for more than 
 twenty years, and for whom I still mourn in secret? Why, Susan, 
 does thee know that after all these years I can sometimes feel against 
 my cheek the touch of her sweet lips? To me she personified youth, 
 strength, glowing affection, hope, can I ignore this vivid past?" 
 
 Rachel spoke with dramatic fervor, and tears were in her eyes. 
 Such a display of emotion was new to Susan. She pressed Rachel s 
 hand affectionately, saying, "My friend. I did not mean to wound 
 thee." 
 
 " T know thee. Susan r Walton," said Rachel, smiling gently. " I 
 am ashamed of my weakness: T was shaken through every fibre of my 
 being." 
 
 " T do believe, Rachel, that troubles sometimes arise which can 
 be understood only by the person who has to meet them. In such 
 cases even the most intimate friends cannot counsel or criticise 
 fairly." 
 
 " Truly, Susan, it is so now with me." 
 
 They resumed their knitting and sat in silence. Each was wait 
 ing for a message from the still, small voice within. At last Susan 
 said. " Thee is so strongly impressed with the responsibility of this 
 trust that T know thee will weigh the subject carefully, and thy 
 decision will be honest." 
 
 " Dear Susan Walton," said Rachel, smiling, " thy charity never 
 faileth."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DECISION. 
 " He that speaks, doth sow." 
 
 THE sunset glow had entirely faded from the room when Susan 
 Walton took her leave. As Rachel closed the door behind her friend, 
 a suggestive voice from the kitchen announced, " I have the tea under 
 way, please, ma am. It s ill waitin when a meal is ready." 
 
 " Very well, Jerusha," answered Rachel, " I will set the table 
 right away. I did not think it was so late." She returned to the 
 back parlor, which served as sitting-room and dining-room. 
 
 "Humph!" said Jerusha, "the taller the clock in the corner, 
 the less note taken of the time." 
 
 A bright young girl now came into the dining-room. " Why, 
 Aunt Rachel, I thought Friend Susan was staying for tea to-night? " 
 
 " Xo, Hilda, but her visit was a little longer than usual/ said 
 Rachel, while she replenished the fire in the open Franklin stove, 
 " but we shall soon have things ready for Jerusha/ 
 
 Thrifty Rachel Fuller always attended to her own dining-room. 
 Deftly she and Hilda drew from the corner the round mahogany 
 table, with the top turned upright on a central axle; they turned the 
 top to its horizontal position: they laid the cloth, lighted the bronze 
 lamp, and put the quaint china in place. 
 
 "Here is Cousin Edward." said Hilda, smiling at an elderly, 
 gray-haired gentleman who appeared at the threshold. He was a 
 childless widower, and for ten years had made his home with his kins 
 woman, Rachel Fuller. He leaned lightly upon a cane as he entered 
 the room, and though not really conveying the impression of ill 
 health, he nevertheless suggested frailty. 
 
 "Xow. Hilda, T have caught thee and Cousin Rachel napping, 
 I am sure," he said, pleasantly. 
 
 " Xo, no. Cousin Edward, see, the last dish is in place, so thee
 
 12 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 cannot yet say thee has come home and found the tea-table not 
 ready." This was an old jest between them. 
 
 " Well, well; it is hard when a man wants something to growl 
 about and cannot find it." 
 
 " I do not think thee earnestly desires to growl/ Edward," said 
 Rachel. During these remarks Rachel took from the corner closet 
 a delft teapot, a small tea-chest, and a tiny pair of band-scales. She 
 carefully weighed a frugal portion of tea, a luxury in those days. For 
 not quite a year had passed since the Boston Tea Party, and last 
 Christmas the good ship " Polly," bringing a cargo of tea to Phila 
 delphia, had been sent back to England two hours after she had 
 arrived at port. Jerusha brought in the brass kettle of boiling 
 water, and the various dishes prepared for the meal, and then the 
 small family drew up to the table. The impressive, eloquent Quaker 
 silence fell upon the group, each heart was uplifted for a moment. 
 
 When the meal began Edward Love directed his remarks to 
 Hilda, seeing that Rachel was somewhat lost in thought. 
 
 " Xow, Hilda, tell us all the events of the afternoon. Give us 
 a faithful chronicle with everything doleful omitted; I will never be 
 a party to sad or disagreeable table-talk." 
 
 " Well, Cousin Edward, we have finished my party gown, and it 
 ii= very comely. And I am to have a white mull tucker and under- 
 sleeves." 
 
 " T am glad for thee. Thee will look gay at the wedding." 
 
 Edward Love was one of the " world s people," but be generally 
 used the Friend s speech in the household, as a courtesy to Rachel. 
 
 " T count on beginning my shell box to-night, if Richard brings 
 that new kind of glue he promised. I sorted my shells to-day, but. 
 oh! I broke one of the prettiest." 
 
 " Hush, hush," said Edward, with mock earnestness, putting his 
 hands over his ears, " I will not listen. Keep that till after tea." 
 
 Hilda then merrily recounted some pranks of the household pets. 
 Fido and Fairy, and Edward Love evinced the keenest interest in 
 every detail, as if he bad never before heard such wonders. 
 
 " Thee may summon Jerusha, Hilda," said Rachel, when the 
 meal was finished. 
 
 Hilda left the room, but returned in an instant, followed by
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 13 
 
 Jerusha, Fido and Fairy. Fairy, a noble specimen of a tiger cat, 
 walked demurely to the fire, and stretched herself for a nap. Fido, 
 a handsome black King Charles, frisked frantically about, dividing 
 his attention between Edward and Hilda. 
 
 " Jerusha," said Hilda, with a pretense of anger, " you are just 
 mean. You always contrive to have Fido s and Fairy s meals ready 
 at the time we are eating, and it s all because you hate to let them 
 come into the dining-room. Isn t it, Fido?" 
 
 " Well," said Jerusha, emphatically, " I say that animals ain t 
 got no business in a dining-room when gentlefolks is eatin , and I ll 
 do what I can to live up to my principles. If Miss Eachel was to 
 say to me like this, Jerusha, let the animals come in while we re at 
 meals, it ud be different; but while she don t say that, I stick to my 
 principles." 
 
 They all laughed. Jerusha cleared the table vigorously, and 
 Eachel proceeded to wash the tiny cups, saucers, and spoons in a 
 small pewter basin kept exclusively for this purpose. 
 
 " But, Jerusha," persisted Hilda, " some famous people have 
 made companions of animals. Cousin Edward has often told me 
 about them. Why, even queens and princesses have pet dogs and 
 cats. 
 
 0, 1 don t wonder at queens and princesses, because havin no 
 kind o reasonable business on hand they d go crazy just listenin to 
 the lords and princes savin , Sweet lady, your cheeks is like the 
 rose; fair princess., your hand is like the lily. But for people that 
 have got somethin to think about, it s different. I wouldn t be cold- 
 heartod to animals for anything, but they have their place." 
 
 " Yes, yes, Fairy," said Hilda, picking up the cat and dancing 
 about the room with Fido chasing after; " we know Jerusha is as 
 fond of you as we are, only she won t say so, will she? And we know 
 she likes Farmer John Peters, onlv she grumbles at him, doesn t 
 she?" 
 
 A little laler the " animals " settled down for a nap. Eachel 
 took her knitting, while Edward and Hilda examined the various 
 shells which were to be fastened upon a work-box that Edward had 
 made for Hilda. Edward Love was a goldsmith, and a repairer of 
 clocks and watches, but he was skilled in the use of all kinds of tools. 
 2
 
 14 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 " Good evening, neighbors," said Richard Thorpe, a manly-look 
 ing youth, who, a few minutes later, entered the room, with the air 
 of one at home. He had been Hilda s playmate in earlier years, and 
 was now the familiar friend of the household. His parents were 
 dead, and he had been reared by Thomas Greene, an apothecary, to 
 whom he had been apprenticed. He still lived with the Greenes, 
 though he had lately completed his apprenticeship. 
 
 " Good evening, Richard Thorpe," said Rachel, " a chair is wait 
 ing for thee." 
 
 He sat down at the table where Hilda was at work. * Xow we ll 
 see how this glue holds the shells," he said, drawing a bottle from 
 his pocket. 
 
 " I am so glad you have brought it," said Hilda. " The shells 
 are all ready, and when I want to begin anything, oh! the want goes 
 all through and through me." She began to arrange the shells, 
 Richard superintending. 
 
 " This has been a fine day, Richard," said Edward Love. 
 
 " It has, indeed. Did you take an afternoon walk? " 
 
 " Truly I did. I could not afford to miss that. Life has more 
 in it than merely sitting in a shop." 
 
 " I do believe," said Hilda, " that Cousin Edward keeps his clerk 
 in order to get a chance for an afternoon walk. All the rest of the 
 time I daresay the clerk stays up stairs with his family." 
 
 " Now thee has found me out, Hilda. I let my clerk live over 
 the shop, because I do not need him except when I want to take a 
 walk. That s it, that s it. Well, during my walk, I found two or 
 three more pretty leaves for thy collection." 
 
 "Where?" asked Hilda. 
 
 "Thee knows the high bank that I call my terrace?" 
 
 "On Chestnut street, below Seventh?" 
 
 " Yes. As I was sauntering there, I looked south toward Wal 
 nut street and saw that my favorite old tree was quite bare. So I 
 looked in the heap of leaves under it for a stray beauty. After that 
 I turned my steps homeward, but when I came near Christ Church 
 I heard the organist practicing, so I stepped in there and had a little 
 music."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 15 
 
 "As usual," said Hilda, with pretended scorn. " Thee will get 
 the name of being the laziest man in town." 
 
 " Cousin Edward makes time at his shop," said Rachel, " so he; 
 has some to dispose of." 
 
 Why, Miss Rachel," said Richard, " thee is a wit." 
 
 " Thank thee, Rachel," said Edward, " for thy compliment to; 
 my business and my habits." 
 
 "Well," said Hilda, "it is a bad example to Richard Thorpe. 
 We shall find him taking a walk in business hours. Hold your finger 
 <m that corner shell, Richard, while ] put this in place." 
 
 The young heads were very close together, the hands touched 
 each other. 
 
 " I will make a bargain with you, Hilda. Whenever I take a 
 walk in business hours I will ask you to go with me, and then you 
 can lecture me." 
 
 There seemed to be a slight change in Richard s tone. Was it 
 not more than usually earnest? He looked straight into Hilda s eyes, 
 and there must have been a subtle meaning in his glance, for Hilda 
 looked down quickly, and said, with an embarrassed laugh, " What 
 sport that will be!" 
 
 The firelight fell full upon their faces, and Rachel, who chanced 
 to be looking at them, saw the meaning glance and the embarrass 
 ment produced by it. It was the first time she had seen any self- 
 consciousness on Hilda s part when with Richard, and the discovery 
 startled her. In that moment she realized that Hilda and Richard 
 were children no longer. The afternoon conversation with Susan 
 Walton had not been really absent from her mind all evening, but 
 now it pressed upon her forcibly. She said to herself, " Would my 
 information disturb the present state of things? Even if it would, 
 ought I to withhold it?" 
 
 "I don t intend to put on any more shells to-night," said Hilda; 
 "I ve done enough. I ll make Fido play Dinah." She began a wild 
 frolic, which consisted in doing Fido up in a red handkerchief, and 
 making him bow and go through various antics of carrying and fetch 
 ing. 
 
 Meantime Edward Love leaned back on the cushioned settee, and 
 addressed Richard.
 
 1G THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Twenty-one Years, are you making great plans for 
 the future? Or are you satisfied to let well-enough alone? " 
 
 " I can say yes to both questions," answered Ilichard. " I 
 have plans; " again he looked at Hilda, k% but I shall make no change 
 at present, on account of the troubled condition of the country. Men 
 speak seriously of our future." 
 
 " You are prudent, Kichard," said Edward. " Business cannot 
 fail to be depressed while our public affairs are in such bad shape. 
 I was hopeful that our Congress last month could show us what to 
 do, but I fear that the end of our trouble is still far off. 
 
 " God forbid," said Rachel. 
 
 "Another reason why I am glad you are waiting, Richard/ con 
 tinued Edward, " is that the delay gives you time to look about you 
 before taking the full responsibility of a shop, a little time of free- 
 dom that is very precious, an opportunity to choose ways and means 
 carefully. Many a man cripples himself by jumping suddenly into 
 his future. An opportunity for choice is a precious treasure, which 
 should not be abused nor lightly parted with/ 
 
 Again Rachel felt a strange pang, as if some hand pressed upon 
 a bruise. Richard was preparing to go home, but she scarcely noticed 
 him, and said " good night " mechanically. " Opportunity for choice 
 .a precious treasure?" she repeated to herself. "Am I depriving Hilda 
 of her treasure? Am I doing wrong? She thinks of no other road 
 than the one to which her feet are accustomed. Shall I speak and 
 turn her girlish fancy to a different path? Edward speaks soberly. 
 Yea. yea, I will tell her."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 17 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 CONFIDENCES. 
 
 Fond Memory brings the light 
 Of other days around me." 
 
 Moore. 
 
 THE next morning was dull, and by afternoon a cold autumnal 
 rain had set in, which made the house appear more snug and attrac 
 tive in contrast with the great, uncomfortable world outside. On 
 such a day there seems so little likelihood of human activity out-doors 
 that one feels instinctively that if anything momentous is to happen 
 it must arise within the household. 
 
 Rachel Fuller s sitting-room was cheerful and comfortable, for 
 it had not only a bright fire but could boast of a warm Kidderminster 
 carpet. Rachel s afternoon task was the patient darning of a thin 
 place in a linen tablecloth, while Hilda was making for herself the 
 festive mull tucker. 
 
 " Hilda," said her aunt, " the way seems open for me to speak 
 to thee this afternoon about something on my mind. I want to try 
 to make thee understand why I, a plain Friend, with strong con 
 victions, have allowed thee privileges not in strict accordance with 
 the discipline of our Meeting, and have permitted thee to go with 
 Cousin Edward to worship at Christ Church instead of taking thee 
 with me." 
 
 Rachel paused, and Hilda did not foci certain whether she should 
 speak or not. Presently she said, " I have gone to Meeting whenever 
 thee has asked me, Aunt Rachel, and T will go oftener if thee wishes." 
 
 :i Thee is more than willing to please me, child, but T do not 
 wish thee to go to the Meeting House when thy heart inclines thee 
 toward Christ Church." 
 
 Thee has been very good to me, Aunt Rachel." 
 
 " I have allowed thee to do what I thought thy mother would 
 have thee do. Thy mother was different from me; her ways were
 
 IS THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 more like those of the world s people. Yet she was so lovable, so 
 winsome, so useful, that whenever 1 was moved to remonstrate with 
 her I was restrained by the thought that perhaps her ways were as 
 good for her as mine for me." 
 
 Again Rachel paused, and Hilda had too much delicacy to break 
 the silence. Soon the narrative was resumed. 
 
 " Our mother was a busy housekeeper; our father a hard-working 
 country doctor; both were active in Friends Meeting. Their home 
 was well kept, their children were well tended, they did their duty 
 thoroughly according to their light. They were not given to demon 
 strative affection, but Miriam was full of life and impulse. She made 
 no effort to restrain her emotions; she laughed and sang when she 
 was merry; she cried when she was sad; she twined flowers in her hair 
 and made necklaces of dried berries. Though she was seven years 
 younger, she was my constant companion. Hilda, thee has never 
 known a sister s love, so thee cannot tell the sweetness thee has 
 missed." 
 
 Rachel ceased to speak, for her mind was busy exploring the holy 
 land of youth; its rugged places were softened by the distance, its 
 beauties were intensified by the sorrows and loneliness of later years. 
 
 " Soon after our mother s death," she continued, " Miriam went 
 into Surrey for a visit, and that was our first separation. There she 
 met Herbert Sedgeley, a young minister of the world s people, and 
 they were drawn toward each other. 
 
 " Tie came afterward to our house, and a year later he and my 
 beautiful Miriam were married in the village church. Father never 
 favored the marriage, but he would not forbid it, though he was not 
 at the wedding, as he would not countenance what he could not 
 approve. I was there, but my heart was sad. I realized the extent 
 of our separation. Her life was to be among new scenes; she was no 
 longer connected with Meeting, and the old familiar intercourse would 
 cease. Thy lather was a noble man, and Miriam was happy with 
 him. T took comfort in that thought, but from the day of that mar 
 riage my heart was lonely. Dear Miriam! Had she been any less 
 good, less lovable, her ways might have provoked resistance: but 
 somehow her life taught me that we might both be traveling the 
 same road though clad in different kinds of raiment."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 19 
 
 " My sweet mother,* murmured Hilda. 
 
 " Father died two years alter Miriam s marriage; then I made 
 her a long visit, and then came our final parting, for I had decided 
 to come to this country. Five years afterward thee came. Hilda, 
 fatherless and motherless, to live with me. And it is for thy father s 
 sake and thy mother s sake that I have not trained thee closely in 
 Friends doctrine, and I can only pray that my laxity may not be to 
 thy hurt." 
 
 Hilda threw her arms around her aunt s neck. "Dear Aunt 
 Kachd, 1 can never repay thee for thy goodness to me, but I will 
 try to show thee that thy methods have not hurt me." 
 
 Hat-hel stroked the fair young head which rested upon her shoul 
 der, and no words were needed. After a time Hilda broke the silence. 
 
 "Aunt Rachel, please tell me something about Cousin Edward s 
 early life." 
 
 " 1 know little to tell thee, child. I did not know him when 
 he was young; his home was in London. He married early, but I 
 believe his marriage was a disappointment to him. At any rate it 
 saddened him. When he decided to come to this country his wife 
 said that she would go to her own home, near London, till he had 
 established himself here. After he had been a few weeks in Phila 
 delphia he sent for her, but she made some excuse for delay, and a 
 short time after that she died suddenly." 
 
 l Did thee know he was in Philadelphia when thee came? " 
 
 " 0, yes, and when T came I hunted him up. Afterward, when 
 I wanted to make a home for thee, Hilda, I took this house and made 
 a home for Cousin Fdward also." 
 
 Hilda sat lost in thought; her quick imagination filled in and 
 colored the outlines of the pictures that had been presented to her. 
 The rain came down faster than ever, the wind fairly shook the 
 house. After a time Rachel spoke again. 
 
 " T lately gave thee, Hilda, the things that belonged to thy 
 mother, but T still have one trinket which I will give thee to-day with 
 a parchment explaining it. I could not see my way to give it to thee 
 before. Yet I know thy father and mother intended thee to have 
 this trinket, so I will not keep it from thee any longer. It belonged 
 to tbv father s sister."
 
 20 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 Hilda was so astonished that she could not speak, while her aunt 
 went into the parlor and took a small box from the great mahogany 
 chest of drawers which filled one recess of the room. 
 
 " The trinket, being silver, was much tarnished," she said, " but 
 yesterday I asked Cousin Edward to polish it, so it is looking its best. 
 I did not tell him the story, so thee may take thy choice of telling 
 him or not." 
 
 Hilda took the box. "I am going up stairs, Aunt Rachel, to 
 look at it by myself," she said. 
 
 " Very well, child, suit thyself," said Rachel, gently. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BUCKLE. 
 " Brave, faithful, happy." 
 
 HILDA SEDGELEY, alone up stairs, opened the box without a 
 moment s delay. In one side of it was a roll of parchment, narrow, 
 but very long, and wrapped in soft linen was a beautiful silver buckle. 
 The buckle was a little more than two inches long, oval in shape, 
 covered with delicate tracery of ivy and oak leaves clustered around 
 an unfinished motto consisting of two words and a dash, also the 
 date, 16GO. 
 
 The parchment had at the upper left-hand corner the word copy, 
 and read as follows: 
 
 When the Merrie Foxes did holde their laste mete that is to 
 say on the first Monday even of November, 1660 at the Lion, 
 a Devyce was planned as a pleasaunt jeste. The sayd Devyce it 
 has been carryed out so far as it can go at presente. And 
 therefore 1 have this day bestowed upon my eldest Daughter a 
 Silver Buckle. Which Buckle it was wroughte by the beste 
 Silver-smith of London, at the coste of the Merrie Foxes. This 
 is the Pleasure of the Merrie Foxes concerning the Buckle. 
 My Daughter is to have it in possession until she does take unto 
 herself a husbande. On this occasion she is to give the Buckle
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 21 
 
 to the eldest unmarried Daughter of the next of kin, who is to 
 holde and transmit it in the same way, at the tyme of her 
 marriage. Should the holder of the Buckle remain a Spinster, 
 at her Death it is to be transmitted in the same manner as if she 
 had married. The holder of the Buckle shall not lende it, and 
 she shall not permit a copy of it to be made. If she should dis 
 regard these Commandes, she may look for annoyance all the 
 reste of her Life. 
 
 A Companion Buckle it was wroughte at the same tyme, and is 
 to be transmitted in a Similar Mannere through the eldest un 
 married Son of one of the Merrie Foxes. It is a fancie of the 
 Merrie Foxes that the holders of the two Buckles may one day 
 mete and perchance be United. But the Holder of this Buckle 
 she shall not be debarred from a different Marriage, and shall in 
 no Way consider herself bounde to defer Marriage in the Hope 
 of gratifying the fancie of the Merrie Foxes. 
 
 The Companion Buckle it is an exact Counterparte of this, save 
 that it does bear the final word of the Legende that was 
 chuzed, sayd final word being, " Felix." If the holders of the 
 Buckles shall in future be betrothed, then the Buckles they shall 
 be exchanged as a Token; the Maiden shall receive the Buckle 
 bearing the inscription " Felix," and shall give to her Lover this 
 one bearing the words, "Fortis, Fidelis," the entire legende being, 
 " Fortis, Fidelis, Felix," meaning, " Brave, Faithful, Happy." 
 (Signed) ROBERT CHADDOCK SEDGELEY, 
 
 (A Merrie Fox.) 
 Yule-tide, 1660. 
 
 Hilda trembled with excitement as she laid down the parchment 
 and looked once more at the buckle. Every heart worthy the name 
 of human contains a susceptibility to romance. It may be easily and 
 often aroused, or it may remain long unresponsive, waiting for the 
 supreme touch of one irresistible hand; but when this susceptibility 
 is aroused the heart quivers with innumerable electric impulses, 
 which more or less affect the whole being. 
 
 So Hilda was transformed by the silver buckle. Hitherto she 
 had taken no thought for the morrow; she enjoyed the good things of 
 life without question as to how they might have been improved; if a 
 bright day came she accepted it with a spring of joy in her heart; if 
 a dark day, she bore it as a thing to be expected. She enjoyed the 
 companionship of Richard Thorpe much the same way as that of her 
 aunt Rachel and her cousin Edward; it was part of her happy life,
 
 22 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 and she had no thought of a possible change. Now, however, a 
 future seemed open to her. Some novelty was to come into her life, 
 bringing with it a pleasant zest. Somewhere there was a youth, 
 "brave, faithful," no doubt, looking for her, and she might make 
 him " happy." With the undaunted confidence of youth she said 
 to herself, " I shall find the companion buckle." 
 
 She took from a drawer a precious miniature of her beautiful 
 young mother, and then looked long and critically at the reflection 
 of her own face in the mirror. Her face had a new interest, for she 
 had in the last few moments passed a landmark of her life and turned 
 into a strange road. 
 
 With a sudden impulse she took from a small chest some fancy 
 garments, given to her a few weeks before. Deftly she proceeded to 
 array herself in a pink gown, a pink mantle, and a coquettish pink 
 bonnet. "I ll surprise Aunt Rachel," she said to herself, "by ap 
 pearing before her suddenly in my mother s clothes." 
 
 Rachel Fuller down stairs sat doing nothing. She was wont 
 to allow herself a little rest at twilight, when the duties of the day 
 were over and those of the evening had not begun. She regarded the 
 twilight as a little halting-place between the day and night, when it 
 is good to stop and lay one s burdens down. She sat idle, her mind 
 working in that half active, half listless way peculiar to some natures 
 at such moments. Shadowy forms gathered round her; voices long 
 silent whispered to her; pictures long ago destroyed again presented 
 themselves, their outlines perfect as at first, their colors as bright. 
 And from those bygone years even one of the old baffling questions 
 returned: " Why are the lives that seem most necessary to each other 
 so often separated? the hearts that are mutually responsive placed 
 so far apart?" The loss of her sister had left a hunger which had 
 never been appeased, a thirst which had never been slaked, though 
 her life was one of usefulness and apparent content and cheerfulness. 
 
 A gleam of light attracted her attention to the window. The 
 sun, after a fierce struggle Avith the storm, had triumphed, and was 
 proclaiming his victory in a flourish of sunset splendor. As Rachel 
 looked at this promise of a bright morrow she had a vague, home-
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE.
 
 24 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 sick feeling that on life s horizon there are some clouds which never 
 yield to sunlight; though they may not always obtrude themselves 
 amidst the splendor, they are there nevertheless. She murmured 
 half aloud, " Two women shall be " 
 
 She was interrupted by a vision that made her heart stand still, 
 made her catch her breath, made her rise from her chair, made her 
 take one step forward and then stand still again, with parted lips and 
 astonished eyes. " Miriam," she faintly uttered to the fair young 
 girl in pink garments. 
 
 Hilda, more than satisfied with her device, and frightened be 
 cause she saw for the first time her aunt Eachel frightened, ran for 
 ward and threw her arms around her aunt s neck. Kachel folded her 
 in a strong embrace, and in a quivering voice gave utterance to the 
 unfinished thought of a moment before: " Two women shall be grind 
 ing together, the one shall be taken, and the other left." 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HOPES AND FEARS. 
 
 "Life? Tis the story of love and of troubles, 
 Of troubles and love, that travel together 
 The round world through." 
 
 Joaquin Miller. 
 
 JERUSHA LIGHTFOOT was scrubbing and scouring in the kitchen,, 
 and ever and anon singing, to tunes of her own composing, scraps of 
 old songs. Jerusha honestly thought she knew how to sing, and 
 cared not whether others gave her credit for her ability or not. 
 " Sure a body who can remember the words of a song has no trouble 
 to put a tune to em, and it s company while you work," was her 
 musical theory. She had a habit of talking about her work in a 
 half audible tone between the lines of her song, so that a chance lis 
 tener had the benefit not only of the quotations, but of the soliloquies 
 also.
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 25 
 
 " My gown was made of the finest silk, 
 
 And flounced right down to the ground"; 
 
 she sang, as she began a vigorous attack with a scrubbing-brush upon 
 the window frame. " Tis a rare chance for cleanin / she muttered, 
 " to have a day as mild as this in December." Then the song began 
 again: 
 
 " The girdle that I wore round my waist," 
 
 There was a brief silence, save for the sound of the brush, then 
 the soliloquy was resumed. " Some slatterns won t take the hint, 
 of course; they don t seem to know that when a real fine day comes 
 it s the Lord s way o sayin : Clean up, put things in order, make 
 your house shine. : She finished the first stanza of her song: 
 
 " Was sell t for a hundred pounds." 
 
 Again she scrubbed complacently. " This last soap is the best 
 I ever made, glad I made a lot of it," she said. Then the song was 
 resumed : 
 
 " My stockings were made from the softest woo , 
 And gartered aboon the knee." 
 
 Suddenly she paused in her work, and the song changed to 
 soliloquy. "Mercy on my heart! I laid out to polish them big 
 brass candlesticks on the dining-room mantel when I was scouring 
 the pans and porringers, and I perfectly forgot em." Her vexation 
 soon subsided, and the scrubbing and the song went on. 
 
 "My shoes were made of the Spanish black, 
 And they buckled right merrily." 
 
 Again her mind turned to the candlesticks. " Well, I ll do em 
 
 O 
 
 this afternoon, that s sure." 
 
 "Xow, Jerusha Lightfoot," said a merry voice from the hall 
 doorway, "here I ve been standing for five minutes, and you have 
 made believe not to see me, but you meant that song for me, I 
 know." 
 
 " Hilda Sedgeley, I didn t have an idea you was there, but if you 
 choose to take it to yourself you re welcome."
 
 26 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 Jerusha always spoke in a clear, strong, matter-of-fact tone not 
 unpleasant, not cross, yet with no suggestion of mirth or humor. 
 
 a Well, Jerusha, I m dressed for the wedding, and before I put 
 on my cloak I want you to see me. How do I look? " 
 
 Hilda was clad in the new gown of pale brown silk over a skirt 
 of brown quilted satin; the white mull tucker was gathered coyly 
 at her neck, and white mull undersleeves lent daintiness to her wrists. 
 And in a breastknot of blue ribbon was the silver buckle. 
 
 Jerusha glanced quickly at her quickly but comprehensively, not 
 superficially. There is as much difference in glances as in caresses. 
 Jerusha s glance was, as her work, thorough. 
 
 " Well, I don t think you could look any better," she said, de 
 cidedly. To some persons this might have seemed rather an ambig 
 uous compliment; but Hilda was satisfied, for she understood it. 
 Jerusha, scrubbing energetically as before, began a new song. 
 
 " Quoth John to Joan, wilt thou have me? 
 
 I prithee now, wilt? And I se marry with thee," 
 
 " Why is it, Jerusha," interrupted Hilda, " that you always sing 
 love songs? Are all songs about love? " 
 
 Jurusha actually stopped scrubbing, so oppressed was her brain 
 by this unexpected, perplexing question. 
 
 " I can t say whether or no they re all about love," she answered, 
 " but all T ever heard was about love. Mayhap it s only when a body s 
 in love that he s got idleness enough to make songs." 
 
 "And then busy people like you sing them," said Hilda. " Go 
 on, Jerusha, finish it." 
 
 " My cow, my calf, my house, my rents, 
 
 And all my lands and tenements: 
 say, my Joan, say, my Joan, will not that do? 
 I cannot come every day to woo." 
 
 Here the back door opened, and a big, burly, ruddy-faced man 
 looked in and nodded. 
 
 " 0, good day, Farmer John," said Hilda, " you are just in time 
 to see my new gown. I am going to a wedding. Cassie Armstrong 
 and Joe Lake are to be married this morning, and after that there ll 
 be a new house to buy marketing."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 " How do I look? "
 
 28 TEE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 " I know it. I wish them good luck/ he said, but in a tone so 
 ferocious that the wish sounded like a malediction. He always spoke 
 fiercely, giving the impression that he was ready to knock someone 
 down. His most ordinary remarks were uttered in a roar, yet no 
 one had ever seen him in a passion. Probably the passion in his 
 nature vented itself regularly in his daily conversation, instead of 
 reserving its strength to burst out with overwhelming force at some 
 extreme provocation. He lived on his own farm, about six miles dis 
 tant, and his sole companion at home was a hired man, who assisted 
 him not only with the farm, but with the housework also. 
 
 " I went to parties, too," he continued, " in my youth, but now 
 I ve got better sense, and I stay at home where I can have comfort and 
 enjoy myself." 
 
 "Poor enjoyment livin in the country," said Jerusha. "Of 
 course, some folks must live in the country, else there d be no farms; 
 but it don t seem right to pretend to like livin in the country. It 
 would be more right to say, I m resigned to livin in the country 
 because I can t help myself. r 
 
 " 0, Jerusha," said Hilda, "if you had gone to Farmer John s 
 that day last October when we had the nutting party, you would have 
 seen beautiful country. 
 
 " Folks won t never see what they don t want to see," roared 
 John, looking meaningly at Jerusha. " I ll give a May Day next 
 spring, and I bid you all to it, the whole house, and I ll take it ill if 
 you don t come." 
 
 " The country s well enough to visit," said Jerusha. 
 
 " You d find it better enough to live in," retorted John, " if 
 you d try it. A workin , singin body like you. who don t fret to 
 run and clatter from door to door, would find great room in the 
 country." 
 
 Hilda looked with amusement from one of these odd characters 
 to the other, and wondered whether any other lover had ever spoken 
 with such apparent ferocity as John, to such a discouraging listener 
 as Jerusha. 
 
 John was holding in his hand three fine apples, which lie now 
 displayed freely, for Rachel Fuller, cloaked and bonneted, appeared 
 at the hall door. John waved the apples toward her and yelled,
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 29 
 
 " You may take em or not, just as you like, but ye ll not get finer 
 ones this winter. I m sold out at market and am on my way home, 
 but ye might be wantin to order me to bring a bar l of em before 
 the roads get bad; price same as before. I ll bring em the next day 
 I come. You can do as ye ve a mind, of course." 
 
 " Well, John, thee may bring a barrel of these apples, but not 
 the next day thee comes in, that will be Fourth-day I shall not be 
 ready for them then but suppose we say next Seventh-day?" 
 
 " With these Fourth-days and Seventh-days I m turned about," 
 said John, " and the apples may not get here at the right time, but 
 no blame to me." 
 
 " Suppose thee counts on thy fingers, John Peters," said Rachel; 
 " thee knows what the First day of the week is, surely." 
 
 " In the country it must be hard to tell one day from another/* 
 interposed Jerusha, with aggravating calmness. 
 
 Rachel saved John the necessity of a reply by saying to Hilda, 
 "Had thee not better get thy cloak? And don t forget thy pattens, 
 for the ground is damp. Jerusha, thee will have a good afternoon to 
 thyself." 
 
 " She can have these apples for company," said John, laying 
 them upon the table, " they grew in the country." 
 
 With another tremendous nod he departed. Rachel and Hilda 
 laughed as they left the room, while Jerusha continued her labors 
 and resumed her song. 
 
 " I have a cheese upon the shelf, 
 
 And I cannot eat it all myself; 
 I ve three good marks that lie in a rag, 
 
 In the nook of the chimney, instead of a bag." 
 
 A few minutes later Hilda was seated with her aunt Rachel on 
 one of the benches in the large Meeting House at Second and High 
 streets. Her most intimate girl friend, Cassie Armstrong, was to be 
 married at the close of the regular meeting to Josiah Lake. Both 
 families were well know r n to the community. The Committee of 
 Friends had sanctioned the engagement, and Cassie s mother had 
 said, " If I could have chosen for Cassie I would not have chosen any 
 3
 
 30 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 youth but Josiah Lake." So, under the reasonable prospect of Cas- 
 sie s future happiness, and the agreeable certainty of an afternoon s 
 feast of good things at the hospitable home of Cassie s mother, an 
 air of general satisfaction rested upon the assembly in the Meeting 
 House. 
 
 A few " world s people " were present, others intended to call 
 during the afternoon to pay their respects to the young couple. 
 When Hilda was among the Friends she never felt that she was one 
 of the " world s people," and when she was with her Cousin Edward 
 at Christ Church she never felt that she was a Friend. 
 
 She looked across the center aisle of the Meeting House, and 
 saw Richard Thorpe. He was looking at her and they smiled at each 
 other. Seated together on the front benches were the family groups 
 of Lakes and Armstrongs Jo and Cassie side by side. 
 
 It was some time before any one was moved by the Spirit. At 
 last Margaret Gray, a small, delicate-looking old lady, untying her 
 bonnet and laying it on the bench beside her, rose, and spoke with 
 touching simplicity and eloquence about " the peace of God which 
 passeth understanding." When she had finished, Caleb Lukens, a 
 tall, spare, middle-aged man, with a high, quavering voice, prayed 
 long and earnestly. 
 
 A brief silence fell upon the meeting. At last Josiah Lake and 
 Cassie Armstrong rose. Cassie had laid aside her long cloak after 
 entering the Meeting House, and now stood revealed in a gray gown 
 with a mull kerchief round her neck, and a little gray bonnet. 
 
 Josiah took her right hand in bis and said, distinctly and yet 
 nervously: "In the presence of the Lord and this Assembly I take 
 thee, Catharine Armstrong, to be my wife, promising, with Divine 
 assistance, to be unto thee a faithful and loving husband until death 
 shall separate us." 
 
 Then the bride, without the slightest embarrassment, yet with 
 perfect modesty, said: "In the presence of the Lord and this Assem 
 bly, I take thee, Josiah Lake, to be my husband, promising, with 
 Divine assistance, to be unto thee a faithful and loving wife until 
 death shall separate us." 
 
 They sat down, and the bride s brother, James Armstrong, 
 placed in front of them a small table containing pen and ink and the
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 31 
 
 marriage certificate. With a large quill, new for the occasion, Josiah 
 Penn Lake and Catharine Armstrong Lake signed their names. Then 
 the certificate was handed to an aunt of the bride, and she rose and 
 read it aloud. Then it was placed again on the table, and all the 
 Lakes and Armstrongs signed their names and left the Meeting 
 House, while other Friends gathered round the table to affix their 
 signatures to the important document. 
 
 The guests then repaired to the house of Anna Armstrong, the 
 bride s mother, where the bride and groom, with the immediate mem 
 bers of the two families, were stationed in the second story front 
 room, transformed for the occasion into a sitting-room, to receive 
 them. 
 
 After removing their bonnets, cloaks, etc., the guests went in 
 small groups into the " presence chamber," paid their respects, then 
 descended to the parlor to make room for others who wished to offer 
 greetings to the bridal party. 
 
 At last, compliments and congratulations being over, the bride 
 and groom led the way to the dining-room. At this moment Rachel 
 and Hilda were met in the hall by James Armstrong. " Friend 
 Rachel. said he, " permit me to take thee to the dining-room; 
 Friend Walton is saving a place for thee beside her. Hilda Sedgeley, 
 will thee wait here a moment till I come back, and then go with me 
 to the parlor? " 
 
 " Yes, James, if thee does not tarry too long," answered Hilda. 
 
 James Armstrong escorted Rachel Fuller to the dining-room, 
 then hurried back to Hilda. 
 
 " Hilda," he said, " sometimes it is unfortunate to be young. 
 We are doomed to wait till the second table, so let us join our com 
 panions in misery, and play some games." 
 
 They were soon among a crowd of young people, nearly all of 
 whom were well acquainted, enjoying such games as " forfeits " and 
 " hide the handkerchief." 
 
 Among the young men was Richard Thorpe, wildly jealous of 
 James Armstrong and of two or three other youths who were ex 
 tremely gallant to Hilda. Hilda had not yet told Richard the story 
 of the buckle, but intended to do so in the course of the day, though 
 she did not intend to tell it to anyone else outside her Aunt Rachel s
 
 32 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 household. Indeed, Hilda never thought of Richard as being out 
 side the household. 
 
 When the hearty appetites of the elders had done justice to the 
 substantial dinner, the young folks were summoned to the table. 
 Josiah Lake took his station for the afternoon in a little room beside 
 the parlor, to converse with his friends whenever they chose to rally 
 round him, while Cassie returned to the room on the second floor to 
 give special audience to those who wished to converse with her. 
 
 Richard Thorpe had determined to have Hilda for his com 
 panion at dinner, and gave a sigh of relief as they sat down side by 
 side. Hilda laughed and said: 
 
 "Why, Richard, are you tired? At the next wedding you will 
 have to eat with the old folks if you can t wait without losing your 
 strength." 
 
 " Xo, Hilda, I am strong enough, but I don t feel so much at 
 liome among the Friends as you do," he answered, looking at her 
 ^significantly. 
 
 Hilda, ignoring the glance, said: "Cassie and Joe seem very 
 happy, and she is the prettiest picture to-day, isn t she? Is Joe as 
 .nice as he seems? " 
 
 " I don t know how nice he seems to you, Hilda, but I think he 
 is a fine fellow. But as to the prettiest picture well, I think I have 
 as pretty a one beside me now." 
 
 " Thank you, Richard; that gives me even a better appetite than 
 I had before. Do you see this buckle in my ribbon? Take a good 
 look at it, for if ever you see one like it I want you to recognize it 
 and fly to tell me." 
 
 And in the midst of the mirth around them, and with interrup 
 tions occasioned by the necessity of joining from time to time in the 
 general conversation, Hilda, in a few words, told Richard the story 
 of the buckle. 
 
 Richard listened with a sinking heart. During the games ho 
 had realized in an uncomfortable way that Hilda had other admirers 
 beside Richard Thorpe; but her story 7 of the buckle showed that not 
 only had she other admirers, but that she was now possessed of an 
 entirely new fancy which would direct her thoughts to a strange 
 channel. To be sure this fancy would make her disregard the
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 33 
 
 homage of the youths who had roused his jealousy, but how about 
 his own homage? lie doubted not that in time her novel fancy 
 would exhaust itself, but meantime he dared not think what might 
 happen. 
 
 " Richard, I feel sure that I am going to find that other buckle," 
 said Hilda. 
 
 " Do you think it is at this wedding? " said he, making an effort 
 to smile. 
 
 " Xo, but I shall know somehow when it comes around. I 
 can t say just exactly how, but I shall know." 
 
 The afternoon was passed in social conversation and games. 
 People came and went, dutifully sitting awhile upstairs with the 
 bride, downstairs with the groom. The young couple informed every 
 one that they would keep open house in their own home for the next 
 two weeks, and that they should be offended if they did not see all 
 their friends in that time. At four o clock chocolate and little seed 
 cakes were handed around, and at six supper was served. Shortly 
 after eight it was rumored that the bride and groom had slipped away 
 to their own little home near by, and then the guests prepared to 
 depart. 
 
 Though Edward Love had called during the afternoon, he had 
 not remained for supper; so Richard Thorpe, by a previous arrange 
 ment with Rachel, escorted her and Hilda home. Hilda was gay dur 
 ing their walk, but Richard said scarcely a word. 
 
 Aunt Rachel s door was opened by Jerusha, who was eating the 
 last of John s apples, and Richard turned away, saying to himself, 
 " How cold it is! winter has really come."
 
 34 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 WINTER-TIME. 
 
 " For little things on little wings 
 
 Bear little souls to Heaven." 
 
 THE weeks that followed made no important change in Hilda s 
 manner of life. An unfriendly winter had set in, and in spite of the 
 stone sidewalks the streets were not inviting, so the social life of the 
 city was less active than usual. 
 
 The people were depressed, not only hy the weather, but by the 
 grave questions of the times. Men conversant with public affairs 
 felt uneasy at the increasing obduracy of spirit shown by England. 
 Trade was affected unfavorably, prices rose. There were many pub 
 lic and private discussions as to what men should do to bring the 
 King to terms. Some thought that when Congress assembled again 
 in September all doubtful questions would be settled. Others 
 prophesied war, and even wished it would come, for then the King 
 would see that the colonists were in earnest, and he would yield at 
 once to their demands; a little show of fight was all that would be 
 needed. 
 
 The Friends were persistent in their efforts to keep down public 
 excitement. They urged the people to moderate their anger, to put 
 aside all thoughts of retaliation and resistance, to " turn the other 
 cheek," to make further petitions to the King, mildly, clearly, yet 
 earnestly, and to wait with dignified patience till their requests were 
 heard, in the meantime accommodating themselves to circumstances. 
 
 Rachel Fuller s household shared the excitement of the time, 
 Rachel herself more than once speaking publicly in the Meeting. 
 Edward Love thought war a terrible evil, but sometimes a necessary 
 one. and when peaceful measures failed, he would advocate hostile 
 measures. The time may come." he said, " when men will be wise 
 enough to respect each other s rights without being forced to do so; 
 then war will lie condemned as barbarous. But that time has not yet 
 .come.
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 35 
 
 Rachel Fuller argued that war is opposed to Christianity; that 
 failure to get a thing is no sign that it is right to take it forcibly; 
 that forbearance and humility and endurance are cardinal virtues, 
 sure to triumph in the end. 
 
 Hilda Sedgeley listened to arguments on both sides of the ques 
 tion, but knew not what to think for herself. The word "war" 
 frightened her a little, yet it seemed something undefined and distant. 
 She thought vaguely that if war should come, some men from some 
 other places in the colonies she hardly knew where would go out in 
 a vessel and bring the King s troops to terms. For as yet there were 
 no preparations for war; there was nothing to suggest to a young and 
 inexperienced mind that if war came it would come in its usual form, 
 that of a horrible, irresistible demon, stalking through every city 
 and entering every door. 
 
 Meanwhile the household duties were performed with the accus 
 tomed precision and regularity knitting, quilting, spinning, weav 
 ing, sewing, in addition to the vast amount of work connected with 
 the preparation of food in those days, when nothing could be bought 
 ready to the housekeeper s hand. 
 
 Hilda assisted in these household duties, and in the evenings she 
 had time for her shell work or bead work, or else she wrote in her 
 " piece book " scraps of useful information and quotations dictated by 
 her Cousin Fdward. 
 
 This literary work had been of immense value to Hilda, and a 
 source of great delight. Like other girls of that time, she had gone 
 to a little school in the neighborhood till she had reached her fif 
 teenth year. In arithmetic she had learned the four fundamental 
 rules, and something about fractions and the "rule of three." She 
 had studied geography from book and globe, had been well drilled 
 in spelling, had learned some common truths about nature, had gone 
 through a history of England, and had been taught a few miscel 
 laneous historical facts, besides becoming skilled in beautiful needle 
 work. Twice a year, by way of an exhibition piece, she had copied 
 on a large sheet of paper some proverbs from Poor Richard s Almanac 
 or some verses from the Bible, ornamenting the page with fancy 
 capital letters of German text style. 
 
 She took such pleasure in this writing that it suggested to her
 
 36 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 cousin Edward the course of work that had been carried on in win 
 ter evenings since she had left school. He owned a small stock of 
 good books, and from them he selected passages that would interest 
 and instruct Hilda. Then, in the evenings, he read them to her, dis 
 cussed them with her, gave them to her word by word while she 
 wrote them accurately in a blank book. This was an expensive ar 
 ticle then, but Edward gave Plilda a blank book each year. And so 
 she had copied passages from Milton, Dryden, Pope, Thompson, 
 Addison, Goldsmith, Gray, and many lines of Shakespeare. Aunt 
 Eachel had at first looked upon the " play book " of Shakespeare with 
 distrust, but Edward had assured her that he would not put it into 
 Hilda s hands, but merely teach her some of its noblest sentiments. 
 
 Any verses to which Hilda took a special fancy she committed 
 to memory after copying them, so that Edward s plan of education 
 proved exceedingly useful. She was also perfectly familiar with 
 Bible narratives and precepts, having for ten years heard the Sacred 
 Book read daily by her Aunt Eachel, whose reading was impressive, 
 unforgetable, beautiful. So Hilda s mind did not lack nourishment. 
 
 Edward loved the young girl devotedly. He wanted her to have 
 the full measure of joy that his life had missed. He was always her 
 chivalrous knight, ready with appreciative compliment, with wise 
 counsel and encouragement. He developed the artistic side of her 
 nature, neglected by her aunt Eachel. For her he gathered the first 
 blossoms of spring, the roses of June, the leaves of autumn, the holly 
 of Christmas. He never missed a service at Christ Church, and gen 
 erally had Hilda for his companion. He taught her to appreciate 
 and enjoy the beauty and majesty of the English ritual; he told her 
 of the noble cathedrals and picturesque village churches in England, 
 and Hilda listened with the image of her father and mother in her 
 heart. 
 
 Edward Love had also a strong liking for young Eichard Thorpe, 
 and had not failed to let him have a share in the instructions offered 
 so freely to Hilda, though, of course, Eichard s chief duty had been 
 to serve his apprenticeship to Thomas Greene, the apothecary. 
 Eichard had always accompanied the Greenes to Christ Church, and 
 walked home afterward with Edward Love and Hilda Sedgeley. 
 
 This winter Hilda saw Eichard as usual on Sundays, but did not
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 37 
 
 see so much of him in the evenings through the week, for he said 
 he was making some special studies in chemistry. His statement 
 about his extra work was accepted by Hilda with 
 no feeling of dissatisfaction. She was proud of his 
 energy and industry; she encouraged his efforts, 
 and was conscious of no loneliness, for she had the 
 gentle companionship of her aunt Rachel, the sym 
 pathetic friendship of her cousin Edward, and, hidden away in a 
 corner of her heart, she had her little romance of the silver buckle. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 AN APRIL EVENING. 
 
 "God is the Perfect Poet, 
 Who in creation acts his own conceptions." 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 IN due time the gloomy winter was compelled to give place to 
 the charming spring; the old earth smiled and donned her new robes, 
 as if there were no such things as freezing wind and bitter storm; 
 heavy hearts became light, light hearts became buoyant. 
 
 One pleasant evening late in April, Hilda Sedgeley was standing 
 at the front door, and enjoying the balmy air of twilight, when 
 Richard Thorpe came down the street with superb bunches of apple 
 blossoms in his hand. 
 
 " Good evening, Richard," Hilda called out, merrily, " you must 
 have been robbing an orchard. You had better come in and hide 
 awhile from the pursuers, who must be on your track." 
 
 " This is the very refuge I am seeking," said he, coming gaily 
 up the steps, " and this plunder is for you, Hilda. Beauty to the 
 beautiful," said he, gallantly, presenting the blossoms. 
 
 " Thanks to the noble," said she with a courtesy. " Come into
 
 38 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 the parlor and I ll put them into a vase. Aunt Rachel has gone 
 around to Susan Walton s for a little chat, and Cousin Edward had 
 to go out to attend to some business, so you find me alone. I ll en 
 tertain you in great state to-night, Richard, in the parlor, and you 
 must make believe that you don t know that Aunt Rachel s been clean 
 ing house, and that the sitting-room was cleaned to-day and is not 
 in order yet." 
 
 " Well, this room is in order, at any rate," said he, as they en 
 tered the parlor; " it fairly shines with cleanliness. I have so seldom 
 been in this room that I feel strange in it." 
 
 " Suppose you try to learn to feel at home in it, Richard, while 
 I go and fill this vase with water for the blossoms." 
 
 " No, no, Hilda; I will not stay here alone; the responsibility of 
 staying by myself in Friend Rachel s best room just after it has had 
 its spring cleaning is too great for me," and he followed her through 
 the hall. 
 
 They went out the side door, where Jerusha was sitting with 
 Fairy. " Lack-a-day," said Jerusha, " but young folks is bold, takin* 
 a parlor vase to put nothin but blossoms in. Wilful waste makes 
 woeful want. 
 
 " 0. we are not wasting anything, Jerusha, and so we are sure 
 of being as rich as princes some day," answered Richard. " Hi, 
 Fairy! where is Fido?" 
 
 " Fido has gone with Cousin Edward," answered Hilda, " but 
 let us hurry and get the water for the blossoms." 
 
 "Mind you wipe the drips off the vase," called Jerusha, as she 
 heard Richard pumping vigorously. 
 
 " It s all dry outside, Jerusha," said Richard reassuringly, as he 
 and Hilda returned to the parlor. 
 
 " Xow, slave," said Hilda, playfully, " deposit the vase upon that 
 table. I myself will arrange the flowers." 
 
 " Yea, gracious lady," answered Richard, following her mockery; 
 " they should not be touched except by thine own fair hands." 
 
 " They bring me messages from fairy land, slave, which thou 
 dost not hear," said Hilda, busying herself with the blossoms, " and 
 the fountain where thou didst draw this limpid water is an enchanted 
 fountain, and will keep the blossoms fresh until I weary of them."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 39 
 
 " Fair lady, thy slave has yet another mission to perform/ said 
 Richard, going to a table where he had deposited a small parcel, 
 loosely wrapped in white paper. He opened the parcel and disclosed 
 a tiny bouquet of violets, anemones and delicate ferns. 
 
 " Oh, lovely, lovely," said Hilda, in her natural manner, before 
 Richard had a chance to speak. 
 
 These flowers, fair lady," continued he, not heeding her inter 
 ruption, " have magic charms. They grew in an enchanted valley in 
 the realm of Mystery. They were sent by my royal master, King 
 Patient Waiting, as a tribute to thy worth and beauty. He requests 
 that thou wilt wear them as a breastknot. When they have told 
 thee their secret, they will fade, in spite of all thou may st do to 
 prevent them." 
 
 Hilda was embarrassed during this long speech, and her cheeks 
 flushed as she took the bouquet from Richard s hand. " Convey my 
 thanks to the monarch. These flowers are rich in color and grateful 
 in fragrance," and she fastened them to her gown, " but I am too 
 much occupied at present to listen to their secret." 
 
 " They will keep till they have fulfilled their mission," said 
 Richard. 
 
 "Don t let us play this any longer, Richard; let us talk sense. 
 I want to show you my piece-book, finished for the season. Just 
 "before tea I wrote the line that came to me as the proper finis for 
 this volume." 
 
 They sat down side by side, Richard holding the book. Many 
 of the quotations were familiar to him, Hilda having discussed them 
 with him during the winter evenings, but he made comments on the 
 new ones: he read some aloud and read them well; he chose cer 
 tain ones as his favorites, and asked Hilda which she preferred. As 
 he was nearing the end, Hilda suddenly caught hold of the book with 
 both hands, saying, " Now, don t look ahead, Richard, don t turn 
 another page. Try to guess what I wrote as a finis." 
 
 " Tt would require the wisdom of Solomon to guess what you 
 have written, Hilda?" 
 
 "Am I such an uncertain creature, Richard, that you cannot tell 
 what I am likely to do? " 
 
 " No, indeed, Hilda, where reasonable, solid, everyday matters
 
 40 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 are concerned you are as steady as clockwork; but in a matter of 
 fancy in a matter of fancy, 1 would not like to wager what course 
 you would take." Richard spoke with the air of a man thinking of 
 something below the surface of his words. 
 
 Hilda felt embarrassed, she scarcely knew why, and immediately 
 she remembered that on two or three previous occasions she had 
 felt embarrassed at Richard s manner. She quickly resumed her 
 teazing tone, and said, snatching the book from him, " Wager noth 
 ing; I ask for no wager; I ask for a guess. Now I ll give you two 
 minutes to speak to speak right to the point. If you do not make 
 a noble effort you will lose your privilege of knowing what I wrote." 
 
 "First effort: Time and the hour rub through the roughest 
 day, " said Richard, quickly. 
 
 " Now, Richard Thorpe, you know I love to write, and it s not a 
 case of rubbing through. I always hate to close my winter s work." 
 
 " Then perhaps you wrote, The thing which I greatly feared 
 is come upon me. >: 
 
 " Greatly feared! why, Richard, you must be crazy." 
 
 " 0, 1 know now, Hilda, A little learning is a dangerous thing. " 
 
 " Forsooth, Mr. Pertness, you have lost your chance, the time 
 is up. Yom little learning will be dangerous to you," and Hilda 
 clasped the book tightly in her arms. 
 
 " I have thirty seconds grace, Hilda, and I can tell you exactly. 
 You wrote, The desire accomplished is sweet to the soul. " 
 
 " Well, that is more sensible, Richard, and in return for the 
 great effort you have made, I will show you what I wrote." 
 
 She opened the book and held it toward him with a deprecating 
 air, fearing that he might laugh, and knowing that if he did the 
 laugh would jar upon her. But Richard did not laugh, for the words 
 to which his attention was directed showed him that Hilda had writ 
 ten under the promptings of one of her finer fancies, which he un 
 derstood and respected. 
 
 First, there was the matter-of-fact date, April 24th, 1775, and 
 then in large German text, ornamented with delicate vines, were the 
 words, " The time for the singing of birds is come." 
 
 " That is fine, Hilda," said Richard in a tone of admiration, 
 "you could not have made a better ending."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 41 
 
 " The day and the hour suggested the words to me; I could not 
 have said anything else. Just think of it! The long, cold, stormy 
 winter, with all its shivers and bad streets and high prices and hard 
 times, has passed away; and now we have soft, sweet air, open win 
 dows, walks in the fields, sweet smells of country, grass and blossoms 
 and wild flowers; and people will be brighter, and times will be bet 
 ter oh! how thankful I am for spring!" 
 
 She had risen during this speech, and walked to the window, 
 Richard following her. Together they stepped out on the little 
 balcony in front of the parlor, and walked up and down. After a 
 moment s silence, Richard said, " I share your feelings, Hilda. I 
 suppose spring and youth belong together, whispering promises for 
 the future, arousing hopes. This very morning I decided two im 
 portant matters. I told Mr. Greene that after three months I would 
 go into business for myself." 
 
 "And what did he say?" asked Hilda. 
 
 " He said he would do what he could to assist me, and he wished 
 me good luck. The other decision," said he, speaking slowly, " was 
 to tell you of my love for you. Hilda," he burst forth impetuously, 
 " you surely know I love you. I have kept silence only because I had 
 a feeling that you were not ready to hear me speak. I understand 
 your feelings in regard to the silver buckle, and I don t ask for an 
 answer to-night, Hilda; but do not let the jest of a hundred years 
 ago interfere with the happiness of to-day. Won t you fix a limit 
 to your time of waiting? Say you will wait no more than six months; 
 that you will tell me then whether you will be my wife." 
 
 It was not miite dark, and as they turned at the end of the 
 balcony they saw a young man coming quickly up the street. " Here s 
 Joe Lake," said Hilda, and at the same instant he stopped at the 
 balcony. "Good evening, Joe, what is your hurry?" Hilda s tone 
 showed no annoyance at the interruption. 
 
 " Hilda, I have news," said Joe. " Richard, an express, has 
 brought news of a battle at Lexington, near Boston; the King s 
 troops fired upon the militia and several were killed; and later, the 
 militia attacked the King s troops, and about two hundred were 
 killed." 
 
 " Will there be any more fighting? " asked Hilda, fearfully.
 
 42 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 " Did you hear how the trouble began, Joe? " asked Richard. 
 
 " I couldn t learn much to-night, Richard, but the news is 
 spreading, and there is to be a meeting at the State House to-morrow 
 to see what should be done, and we shall hear the whole story then." 
 
 Here come Cousin Edward and Aunt Rachel," said Hilda; "1 
 wonder if they know." 
 
 Yes, they knew. Edward Love had heard the rumor before 
 going to Susan Walton s to bring Rachel Fuller home. 
 
 " Sad news, Joe; sad news, Richard," said Edward. 
 
 " They that take the sword shall perish by the sword, " said 
 Rachel. 
 
 " It may be necessary for some of us to perish, Rachel, that 
 others may live," said Edward Love. 
 
 " Well, let us seek rest while we have the chance," said Rachel. 
 "Joe and Richard, it is too late to ask you to come in, so we will 
 bid you good night." 
 
 The young men went down the street together. When Hilda 
 lighted the lamp she looked down at the anemones and violets on her 
 breast, and found them faded and drooping. They had told their 
 secret.
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 43 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE SUMMER OF 1775. 
 
 " All the interim is as a phantasma or a hideous dream." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 THE events following that memorable evening seemed afterward 
 to Hilda as those of a troubled dream. Edward Love gave her a full 
 account of the mass meeting at the State House the next day, where 
 the citizens resolved to " associate together to defend with arms their 
 property, liberty and lives." After that came the building of forts, 
 the manufacture of ammunition, the enrollment of militia, the daily 
 drill. 
 
 Richard Thorpe, giving up all hopes of opening his own shop, 
 remained with Mr. Greene, and devoted his spare time to prepara 
 tions for war. Edward Love gave all possible assistance to the meas 
 ures for offense and defense; but by reason of his infirmity could not 
 join the train-bands. Rachel Fuller and other Friends worked zeal 
 ously to calm the excitement and avert violent resistance. But some 
 of the Friends renounced the principles of peace, and formed a soldier 
 company of their own. Among these was Josiah Lake. Cassie and 
 Hilda were much together during this time, and anxiously discussed 
 the present and speculated about the future. 
 
 As formerly, Hilda went at times to the week-day meeting with 
 her aunt Rachel, and was greatly divided in her sentiments about 
 violent resistance to wrongs. One morning, a woman named Mary 
 Harris, a stranger, addressed the Meeting, and so stirring were her 
 words, so great was her excitement, speaking from the text: " See 
 now to your standing, for this is the Lord about to search and ex 
 amine his camp," that Hilda was as one overwhelmed by momentous 
 tidings. She could not explain her feelings, but some new forces 
 were started in her nature; and shrinking from a renewal of the asso 
 ciations of that hour, she never went again to Friends Meeting. 
 
 After that came the sessions of the second Continental Con-
 
 44 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 gress, and the rumors that some of its members were suggesting and 
 advising entire separation from England. 
 
 On the twenty-first of June, Hilda witnessed the proud proces 
 sion that escorted George Washington, the newly appointed General- 
 in-Chief, through the streets when he left to take command of the 
 American army at Boston. Then, for the first time, Hilda felt con 
 vinced that there would be a war. The preparations made in the 
 city during the last two months had seemed to be merely prudent 
 measures, for which there would never be any real necessity. She had 
 shared in the sympathy aroused time after time by the troubles of 
 Boston, yet still she thought means of peace would be devised. But 
 the twenty-first of June threw a new light upon Hilda s view of public 
 affairs. For upon that day she saw a thoughtful, majestic man, for 
 ty-three years of age, renowned for his skill and bravery in an earlier 
 war, high in social position, distinguished in the various public assem 
 blies of which he had been a member, ride forth to take command of 
 an army. With him were General Charles Lee, an English officer 
 of great repute, and General Philip Schiller, also a brave soldier, 
 and, like Washington, a member of the Congress that had vested him 
 with this authority. They were escorted through the streets of Phil 
 adelphia by the militia, by the prominent citizens, and also by dele 
 gates from the Congress then in session. 
 
 The news of the next day showed not only that war would be, 
 but that it had already begun in deadly earnest, for it was news of 
 the battle fought at Bunker Hill four days earlier. It was news that 
 appalled all hearts, only to animate them with increased strength 
 and courage. 
 
 Hilda s next memorable experience was about a month later when 
 Richard came to bid them good-bye, for his company was arranging 
 to start the next day to join the main body of troops. He managed 
 to say to her privately, " I ll come for my answer, Hilda, when the 
 war is over." She, struggling to hide her sorrow, might have spoken 
 under the impulse of the moment, but had rro chance to do so. 
 
 " Friend Eachel," he said, in his old laughing way, " thee knows 
 Mr. Franklin says, l Make yourselves sheep and the wolves will eat 
 you. Now, we don t intend to let the wolves have any chance; 
 they ll find no sheep in their path."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 45 
 
 With promises that he would write when he could, and a silent 
 pressure of each friendly hand, he was gone. 
 
 Earlier in the day, rough, honest old John Peters, going in the 
 same company with Richard, had bade them good-bye, and Jerusha 
 had said. " taint no loss." 
 
 Richard s departure left Hilda with a dull aching sense of loss 
 and a dread of the perils of war. She had not known life without 
 Richard s companionship, and could not analyze her feelings in regard 
 to him, but she would gladly have had him back again. There were 
 moments when she was conscious of a feeling of relief that she did 
 not need to answer the question at once. She said to herself, " The 
 war may last a whole year, and by that time I shall know myself." 
 In this mood she wrote one day, and put among her secret treasures, 
 the following story: 
 
 A SILLY FABLE. 
 
 Once upon a time there lived great flocks of birds in a certain 
 valley, which came to be called the Valley of Birds. Perhaps the 
 valley was not the most beautiful in the world, or the most desirable, 
 but it afforded comfortable shelter and abundant food; the air was 
 sweet, the winds were gentle. 
 
 Across the west end of the valley was a natural wall of tall trees, 
 low shrubs and underbrush. In the Yalley of Birds it was known 
 that other birds lived beyond that wall, and, indeed, sometimes those 
 in the Valley of Birds flew directly over the trees, or between the 
 branches into the Unknown Valley; but they never came back. The 
 birds understood this flight and this continued absence. Had not 
 their king decreed that none dwelling in the Valley of Birds should 
 fly beyond the wall of trees, into the Unknown Valley, until the magic 
 feathers had appeared in their wings? Had not he also decreed that 
 none should stay long in the Valley of Birds after the appearance of 
 the magic feathers? 
 
 And what were the magic feathers? Two tiny feathers, more 
 brilliant than the rest of the plumage, differing from it in color, yet 
 harmonizing with it, appearing in a certain particular part of the 
 wing these were the magic feathers. Some birds could feel these 
 
 4
 
 46 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 feathers growing, others were hardly conscious of the change, and 
 to some they never came. 
 
 When a bird found these magic feathers in his wings, he sought 
 a mate whose magic feathers had recently developed, and away they 
 both flew into the Unknown Valley. 
 
 One day a bird named Talk-rest said to a bird that nested in the 
 same tree, " Brownthroat, I feel the magic feathers." 
 
 " Pshaw, pshaw, Tallcrest," laughed she. 
 
 Another day he said, " Brownthroat, I can see the new feathers 
 in my wings. Look at them, look at them!" 
 
 But Brownthroat answered, " I am busy picking this nice fat 
 snail out of his shell. Don t ask me to look at your new feathers." 
 
 "0, Brownthroat, Brownthroat!" exclaimed Tallcrest, in raptur 
 ous surprise, " I see new feathers in your wings! Do you not feel 
 them?" 
 
 Brownthroat dropped the nice fat snail and looked at her wings, 
 " Pshaw, pshaw, Tallcrest, you are fooling me." 
 
 "Nay, nay, Brownthroat; stretch your neck as I do, and spread 
 your wings and look." 
 
 Still Brownthroat could not see them. Perhaps her sight was 
 not good, perhaps she could not stretch her neck, or perhaps the 
 feathers were not there, and Tallcrest had only imagined them. 
 
 Other birds were appealed to for their decision. Some said they 
 could see the feathers distinctly, others were doubtful. Tt was de 
 cided by all that a brief time would show whether the magic feathers 
 were really growing in Brownthroat s wings, and, by common consent 
 of the birds of the Valley, Tallcrest was given the privilege of taking 
 refuge in one of the trees on the western wall, to wait, without looking 
 for another mate with magic feathers, until Brownthroat s case could 
 be decided.
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FRIENDS AND FOES. 
 
 " O, blindness to the future! kindly given, 
 
 That each may fill the circle mark d by Heaven." 
 
 Pope. 
 
 DURING the next two years came the varying events of war 
 and the excitement attendant upon the Declaration of Independence. 
 The latter part of the summer of 1777 was fraught with special mean 
 ing to the inhabitants of the peaceful city of Penn, for General Howe 
 seemed to be making plans to capture it. He had left Xew York 
 with the main body of his troops early in July, and, having joined 
 the naval forces, was now coming by way of the Chesapeake toward 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 There were many royalists in Philadelphia, and they regarded 
 this approach of the British with much satisfaction. Most of the 
 Friends were indifferent about it, and Rachel Fuller probably ex 
 pressed the sentiments of the sect when she said: " I will not do any 
 thing to aid one side more than another, but any sick or suffering 
 man who needs my help shall have it." But the prospect of the 
 enemy s invasion disturbed the patriots; not simply because of fears 
 for their own comfort and safety, but because of the effect upon the 
 American army. 
 
 " Rachel," said Edward Love one evening when they were dis 
 cussing the situation, "I feel much depressed; I cannot see beyond 
 this approaching trouble." 
 
 " We must bide the time, Edward," answered Rachel. " Those 
 who dwell in the midst of war must learn to bear suspense and suf 
 fering." 
 
 " What will thee do, Aunt Rachel, if the enemy should come 
 right into the city?" asked Hilda. 
 
 " I do not speak of any man as my enemy, Hilda, but if the 
 British soldiers should come, I know it will be shown me what to do. 
 I need not make plans now."
 
 48 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 The pulse of the city throbbed with feverish excitement 
 Washington s forces encamped on the Xeshaminy Creek, about twenty 
 miles away. A great crisis seemed to be impending, the effect of 
 which could not fail to disturb either the patriots or the royalists in 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 On Saturday evening, August twenty-third, Edward Love came 
 home in great excitement. " Hilda," said he, " General Washington 
 is marching his troops to meet the British, and they will go through 
 Philadelphia to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, Cousin Edward, how did you hear it?" 
 
 " Congress has had a letter from General Washington, who is 
 encamped with a few troops at Germantown; the others are to join 
 him there, and they are coming through early to-morrow morning. 
 The news is flying about the city." 
 
 " Which way are they coming?" asked Hilda. 
 
 " Down Front Street and out Chestnut. I ll take you round to 
 the shop, and we shall see them." 
 
 But surely it is not the whole army," said Hilda. 
 
 " Xo, Hilda, there is still a large army in the North. But the 
 soldiers who pass through to-morrow are from this part of the coun 
 try, so we shall see some friends and acquaintances in the ranks." 
 
 " 0, I must tell Jerusha; she ll not want to miss the sight," said 
 Hilda, running to the kitchen. 
 
 " I fear that a storm is coming," said Eachel Fuller, looking out 
 of the window. 
 
 " Better to-night than to-morrow," said Edward Love. 
 
 And come it did that night, as if the elements wished to take part 
 in the disturbed condition of human affairs; pouring rain, crashing 
 thunder, blinding lightning. Rain again in the early morning, but 
 soon the sun came forth. To shine upon what? Upon a city whose 
 shops were closed; whose streets were quiet; whose people were making 
 ready to keep holy the Sabbath-day? Xo. That Sabbath sun looked 
 down upon crowded streets, upon a surging population, eager for a 
 view of the Continental Army. 
 
 The clockmaker s little shop was crowded with people; all the 
 windows along the expected line, of march were densely thronged. 
 Hilda s heart beat so violently that she thought Cassie, sitting beside
 
 THE SILVER "BUCKLE. 49 
 
 her, must hear it. But Cassie was listening to her own heart, throb 
 bing convulsively at the prospect of seeing the young husband from 
 whom she had been so soon separated. Cassie and Hilda were ac 
 companied by Jerusha, saying little except now and then a muttered 
 regret that they had to " waste so much time a waitin ." 
 
 Suddenly the crowd sways, exclamations pass from lip to lip, 
 the ground trembles with the tramp of the approaching host. A 
 sound of martial music is heard. Here they come. 
 
 Sound, drum and fife! March, brave troops! Hurrah, C 
 zens! Here they come! Here they come cavalry and infantry! 
 
 Aside from the officers and the foreign soldiers, but little of the 
 splendid pomp and pageantry of war is here. The military bearing 
 and the firm tread of the trained soldier are lacking. The costumes 
 are varied, and in some cases grotesque. But, as if to hide these defi 
 ciencies while passing through the nation s capital, men and horses 
 are decorated with green leaves and branches. With confident bear 
 ing and smiling faces come these men, who hold in their keeping the 
 fate of this country. 
 
 Brave, enthusiastic troops, do you think to make up what vou 
 lack in experience and discipline by courage and patriotism? Do 
 you vegard your recent successes as hopeful auguries of the future? 
 Ah. you have not yet met England s veterans in the open field! 
 Though burning with zeal for a just cause, you yet have much to 
 learn, much to endure, before that cause is won. Four years stretch 
 between you and Yorktown. 
 
 There is the commander-in-chief, erect in his saddle, firm, dig 
 nified, courteous magnificent soldier, magnificent leader of soldiers. 
 Hurrah, hurrah, for Washington! 
 
 There is Lafayette, the new arrival, twenty years old, a favorite 
 at the most splendid court of Europe, possessor of proud title and 
 princely wealth. He left all that was dear to him in France: he came 
 to aid this country because his heart "espoused warmly the can?p of 
 liberty." God bless you, Lafayette! 
 
 There is Greene, a genius, a scholar, a soldier, great among the 
 great. Strange to see the son of a New England Quaker preacher 
 lending troops to battle! Hurrah for Nathaniel Greene! 
 
 There is young Hamilton, the trusted secretary of General Wash-
 
 50 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 ington, destined to win an illustrious name in his country s annals. 
 There is Knox, the immortal hero of the cannon; there is brave Stir 
 ling: there is the impetuous Wayne, " Mad Anthony/ the idol of his 
 followers; there is Count Pulaski, who, having fought in vain to save 
 his country from a tyrant s grasp, has come to aid this struggling 
 land, and to find in it a hero s grave; there is DeKalb, another brave 
 soldier from foreign shores, who brings his sword to aid the patriots. 
 Never again shall he behold his native land. Hurrah, for each and 
 all! Look not for Sullivan; for he upon whom the heaviest burden 
 of the coming battle is to fall is not with the army to-day. 
 
 And so they pass. It is impossible to point out all the noted 
 ones. Those having friends in the city are on the watch for them, 
 and are easily recognized and warmly greeted. 
 
 Many of Edward Love s acquaintances in the ranks look at the 
 familiar shop and wave a salute. C assie and Hilda strain every nerve 
 to see the two faces for which they long. 
 
 " Cassie, there s Jo," cries Hilda, " fourth man from the other 
 side in that third row back." 
 
 " So it is, Hilda," said Edward Love, answering for Cassie. And 
 at the same moment Jo sees them and answers their signals till he is 
 too far past to look back. 
 
 " ( assie, he looks well, very well," says Edward. " Don t worry 
 about him, child; this war won t last forever," and Edward again 
 bends his searching eyes upon the procession. 
 
 Several lines pass, and every now and then Hilda thinks she sees 
 Richard Thorpe, but finds she is mistaken. 
 
 " There s Richard," cries Edward, in the middle of that fourth 
 row he s waving to us." 
 
 Hilda hardly believes it, but in an instant she catches sight of 
 him waving his hat and smiling in his own manly, cheerful way, yet 
 looking older and thinner. 
 
 Soon after that they see John Peters, waving his hat tremen 
 dously, and Jerusha says, "Humph! he d as soon be in war as on his 
 farm." 
 
 Though the troops went at a quick pace, and the army wagons 
 had been sent by a different road, more than two hours were con-
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 51 
 
 sumed in the passing. The excitement did not subside till long after 
 the last regiment had left the city. 
 
 Within two days from that time came the tidings that the Con 
 tinental Army had encamped at Wilmington, and that the British 
 fleet had anchored at the head of the Elk River, fifty miles from 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 During the next two weeks it seemed to Hilda that nothing hap 
 pened. Hours of suspense succeeded one another; doubts and hopes 
 and fears struggled together. It was indeed a gloomy time. Between 
 the British and Philadelphia lay an easy march a road inhabited 
 largely by Quakers, who would make no resistance. The Committee 
 of Public Safety required assurance from every person that he or she 
 would not furnish the enemy with information. 
 
 Rumors came that a battle was imminent, and Congress and the 
 public authorities prepared to leave the city. Then came the memor 
 able day when the noise of the cannon at the Brandywine was heard, 
 from the middle of the morning until nightfall, and all houses were 
 closed by order of the crier. 
 
 Edward Love was in the streets all that day, waiting with other 
 men for the first authentic rumors of defeat or victory. Every man 
 carried a gun. Late in the evening a horseman galloped down Chest 
 nut Street, but he would give no answer to. the questioners besieging 
 him as he passed. His silence was ominous. Not in that way would 
 he bring news of an American victory. Men followed him desper 
 ately to Fourth Street, where a crowd had gathered at the " Indian 
 Queen " 
 
 At the public house the rider checked his horse and would have 
 dismounted in silence, but the crowd would not let him. " Tell your 
 news! " " Let s hear the worst! " " Unlock your mouth! " " Where 
 was the battle? " "Answer us! " different voices shouted. 
 
 The horseman lifted his right hand as a signal for silence, and 
 then in a loud tone, to satisfy the farthest edges of the crowd, he 
 answered them. 
 
 " The battle was at Chadd s Ford the British have the victory. 
 More than a thousand of our men are dead on the field; the Marquis 
 de Lafayette is wounded." 
 
 Groans, murmurs, and imprecations filled the air as the man,
 
 52 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 \veary with his hard ride and dispirited because he knew he was the 
 bearer of hateful tidings, dismounted and pushed his way into the 
 tavern. Some of the crowd followed him; others stayed to discuss 
 the situation. 
 
 " Gurney," said Edward Love, to a man standing near him, -i you 
 can quiet the crowd, perhaps; speak to them." 
 
 So addressed, Henry Gurney stepped upon a settee in front of 
 the " Indian Queen," some of the crowd stepping down to give him 
 a chance, and called out, " Neighbors, do you all know me?" 
 
 A number of voices answered, " Gurney; Henry Gurney," and one 
 man added, " an Englishman." 
 
 "Right! I am Henry Gurney, an Englishman, but Philadel 
 phia is my home, and in Philadelphia are all my interests. I shall 
 be true to Philadelphia. I want to tell you that in spite of the bad 
 news you have just heard, you need not be cast down. I am sure that 
 even if General Howe s troops come into the city, they will harm 
 neither it nor its inhabitants. Do nothing to provoke them a hand 
 ful cannot withstand an army; submission is sometimes more manly 
 than resistance. I advise you that when the troops enter you keep 
 your nouses closed, and if you come into the streets, come well- 
 dressed, quiet and respectful in bearing. I am sure no violence will 
 be offered to you if you are prudent. Xow " he paused as if doubt 
 ful whether he ought to say more, and then he added " I bid you 
 good-night." 
 
 " Thanks, Gurney," said Edward Love, as Gurney stepped down. 
 " The value of a word fitly spoken was appraised long ago." 
 
 The men began to disperse in order to carry the news home, and 
 in many houses that night was heard the voice of lamentation; lam 
 entation for the thousand dead men on the field of battle, and for the 
 prospect of the enemy s invasion. 
 
 Hilda Sedgeley sat white and awestruck at the news. Rachel 
 Fuller said, " This is one of the chances of war." Jerusha Lightfoot 
 said, " I ve been collectin a little pile of stones in the kitchen cup 
 board, and I ve got all the pokers and shovels together, and I ll never 
 let a Britisher inside of this house unless Miss Rachel tells me to open 
 the door." 
 
 Two weeks later the British army encamped at Germantown, and
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 53 
 
 the next day Lord Cornwallis headed the splendid troops that entered 
 Philadelphia. Rachel Fuller would not close her shutters. " Let 
 my house wear its daily aspect, Edward, though I shall not look out 
 to see the troops." Edward Love had closed his shop for the day, 
 thinking he might be needed at home. So he stood with Hilda and 
 Jerusha at the second story window of Rachael Fuller s house, to look 
 at the passing troops. 
 
 " They are comin right peaceable like," said Jerusha. " They 
 don t seem to be shootin at nobody, nor cuttin with their swords. 
 Mebbe, though, they re just savin their strength till they have time 
 to look about em." 
 
 " Oh, look at this horse! " said Hilda, in a tone of alarm. Directly 
 in front of the house, at some movement of the troops, or a sudden 
 flourish of the trumpets, a horse had taken fright and plunged wildly 
 toward the sidewalk. His rider, a young officer, who seemed in no way 
 disconcerted, showed skill in managing him, but the horse stumbled 
 suddenly and fell on his side, pinning his rider to the ground. 
 
 A halt was called, the horse was raised and found to be unhurt, 
 but the young officer lay motionless. A superior officer gave com 
 mands to half a dozen soldiers, who surrounded their fallen comrade, 
 the rest marching on. 
 
 The men made an effort to lift the young officer, but they saw 
 it would not be wise to carry him in that manner. Quick as thought, 
 one of them stepped over the railing of the little balcony in front of 
 Rachel Fuller s parlor, and lifted a shutter from one of the windows, 
 all the shutters of the neighboring houses being closed. The officer 
 was laid upon the shutter, and then one of the men stepped to 
 Rachel s door, and sounded the knocker. Edward Love and Jerusha 
 hurried down stairs, and quickly told Rachel what had happened. 
 She and Edward hurried to the door, while Jerusha hovered in the 
 background, uncertain whether or not the moment had come to have 
 recourse to the stones in the kitchen cupboard. 
 
 " Madam," said the soldier bowing courteously, " we must take 
 the liberty of bringing this officer into your house. Quarters have 
 not yet been assigned us, and he needs immediate attention." 
 
 " My house is at the service of those who need it," answered 
 Rache, ]
 
 14 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 As the men were lifting their burden, Edward said to Rachel, 
 " Better take him to my room." 
 
 " Yes, Edward, if thee will take Hilda s room, she will come into 
 mine/ 
 
 Edward led the way to the second-story back room, and before 
 half an hour had passed, the young officer was resting in bed, and 
 Rachel and Jerusha were assisting the soldiers in their efforts to re 
 lieve his sufferings. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 PATCHWORK. 
 
 " There s a new face at the door, my friend, 
 And a new foot on the floor, my friend." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 THE life of the British in Philadelphia is a matter of history, 
 and need not be detailed in this chronicle of a private household. 
 The soldiers were quartered in various parts of the city some in 
 public buildings, some in private houses, where they were not always 
 welcome guests. The streets were at all times full of soldiers, and 
 there were parades morning and evening. The royalists kept open 
 house, and theatrical performances and social entertainments so occu 
 pied the British officers that they made no strong efforts to accom 
 plish anything in the field. 
 
 To be sure, eight days after they entered the city the noise of 
 the cannon came from Germantown, and Cornwallis quickly dis 
 patched some of his troops through the thick morning fog to the 
 scene of battle, and in the evening the wounded and the prisoners were 
 brought in; but this event made little apparent change within the 
 precincts of the city. 
 
 Two weeks later, the glow of royalist satisfaction was considerably 
 overcast by the news that six thousand men under General Burgoyne 
 had surrendered to General Gates at Saratoga; but the cloud passed
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 55 
 
 away in a short time, the substantial delights of the present causing 
 oblivion to past discomforts and indifference to future uncertainties. 
 
 And how fared it with Rachel Fuller s household? The young 
 lieutenant, whose name was George Raymond, stayed there many 
 weeks. His regiment was quartered in High Street near Fif.h, a:id 
 several soldiers took turns in coming to nurse him; so his presence in 
 the house was no serious tax upon Rachel Fuller. But the stranger 
 had a decided effect upon Jerusha Lightfoot: her tongue was loosened. 
 
 u Seems like that young man ain t no extra burden, Hilda," said 
 she one morning, when the lieutenant had been there about six weeks. 
 " Beyond Mr. Edward givin up his room, and you asleepin with your 
 aunt Rachel, the lieutenant ain t made no change in the house. It does 
 putter me out to think that before them British come to town I looked 
 on em as sort o monsters: and yet this young man has behaved himself 
 so decent that I feel dead sure lots of em have come to this war just 
 because King George sent em, and not because they re full of spite 
 and hate agen us." 
 
 " Well, Jerusha," answered Hilda, " you have seen more of the 
 lieutenant than the rest of us have, so we will take your word for it." 
 
 " He only eats a little mite of our food, just so we shan t feel 
 hurt, and he gets his biggest eatin from trie soldiers." 
 
 " It s a mercy that he does," said Hilda, " when provisions are so 
 dear." 
 
 " People never know what s before em," observed Jerusha, with 
 the air of a philosopher making an original statement: "and we don t 
 know what we can bear till we re tried. Taint every city that could 
 keep up with sixty vessels hemmin it in on the Delaware, and no pro 
 visions comin in." 
 
 " 0, a ship of provisions for the British came in a few days ago," 
 interrupted Hilda. 
 
 "Humph ! it ll save em eatin our food." ansAvered Jerusha. 
 " Heart alive! T never thought to see the day when I d be a drinkin 
 tea made of dried raspberry leaves and dried clover blossoms at mv 
 meals, and not only be a drinkin it myself but a servin it on Miss 
 Rachel s table as if it was real tea." 
 
 "And dear old Fido," said Hilda, hugging him, "you never 
 thought to see the time when you couldn t get a taste of meat, except
 
 56 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 once in a while a soup bone, did you? And you never thought to see 
 the time when you wouldn t be allowed to bark at strange soldiers 
 walking in and out our front door, did you? 
 
 " There s one thing I d like to know/ resumed Jerusha, " that is, 
 whether the big officers has real tea in their quarters. Somehow, I mis 
 trust about General Howe settin down reg lar to steeped raspberries 
 or boiled sage." 
 
 " Why don t you ask the lieutenant, Jerusha?" 
 
 " I did ask him, Hilda, and he laughed and said he didn t know. 
 But of course he knows. The big officers can t do nothin that the 
 whole army doesn t know about, only Lieutenant Raymond don t like 
 to hurt our feelin s." 
 
 " There s the front door," said Hilda, as a slight noise was heard, 
 " the soldiers have gone out now." 
 
 " I s pose they ve fixed him for the mornin then, and I can go u^ 
 and put his room in order," said Jerusha, starting up stairs. 
 
 " Settin up, are ye?" said she to the young officer, as she entered 
 his room. 
 
 " Yes, Jerusha, I m not going to stay in bed any longer, but it 
 may be a good while before I am able to walk about. You must ask 
 Miss Fuller to come and see the improvement." 
 
 " She s gone out," answered Jerusha. " She s gone to see sick 
 folks at the almshouse." 
 
 " She s a good woman, Jerusha." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed Jerusha, with much energy. "I ve lived 
 with her more than ten years, and I never heard her say a mean word 
 and I never knowed her do a mean tiling. Some folks gets cross when 
 they work, and you don t dare speak to em because they re busy; but 
 she can work without bein cross; you can always speak to her. And 
 she goes to see the sick, but she never goes a runnin when she ought 
 to be at home." 
 
 " Well, you have given her a noble character, Jerusha, and I have 
 no doubt she deserves it." 
 
 " I m a wonderin , Lieutenant Raymond, what you re goin to do 
 with yourself, settin there doin nothin ." 
 
 " That bothers me, too, Jerusha. I m well enough now to want 
 to do something. Can you give me any work? "
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 57 
 
 " Could you piece a quilt? " asked Jerusha. 
 
 Lieutenant Raymond was startled at this unexpected question. 
 It seemed that by his idle offer of service he had been suddenly en 
 trapped. He laughed, and said, " I m not sure 
 
 " Like this," said Jerusha, pointing to the quilt on the bed. 
 " Could you sew pieces of prints together? She looked at him, as 
 if she would judge his whole character by his answer. 
 
 " I might," he said slowly. " if you will show me." 
 
 " Well, now, thai s somethin like. You might be able to get a 
 whole quilt pieced if you work steady and set there long enough. I ll 
 bring some pieces when I get done my work. It s not log cabin, it s 
 just squares ." 
 
 The young man was amused, and was also puzzled to know how 
 he should stand the ordeal. The words " log cabin " and " squares " 
 presented very vague meanings to him. " You or Miss Fuller will have 
 to sit with me when I work," said he; "I could not sew alone." 
 
 " I don t sew much at quilts except in the evenin s, and then you 
 don t need company, for the soldiers is mostly with you in the evenin s. 
 Mebbe sometimes Hilda would come in, but I mistrust that." 
 
 "Who is Hilda?" 
 
 " She s Miss Rachel s niece." 
 
 " 0, please ask her to come, if only for half an hour a day. I ll 
 sew hard if you provide me with company." 
 
 " Well, I ll see," said Jerusha in a non-committal way, as she left 
 the room. 
 
 Fortunately for the lieutenant s cause, Hilda had been invited to 
 spend the morning and take dinner with Cassie Lake. Ever since Jo s 
 departure Cassie had been living with her mother, just around the 
 corner from Rachel Fuller s, so the two young girls were often to 
 gether. They never took long walks together any more, for the city 
 was full of soldiers, but they traversed freely the short distance be 
 tween the two houses. 
 
 Jerusha took advantage of Hilda s absence, when Rachel and 
 Edward were seated at dinner, to present the lieutenant s case. " It s 
 come into my head how as we can make good use of that young man 
 upstairs. He s desperate lonely when the soldiers ain t here, and they 
 ain t here so much now that he ain t so helpless, and he s desperate
 
 58 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 anxious for somethin to do. He s full willin to sew quilt pieces, which 
 I ll show him how to do, if he can have company while he works. And 
 I don t see hut what it would be good to ask Hilda to go and set with 
 him sometimes, taking her work while he has his." 
 
 "Has thee spoken to Hilda?" asked Rachel. And at the same 
 time Edward said, " I am afraid it would not do." 
 
 " No, ma am, I would not say a word to Hilda till I had asked you; 
 but if you think about it you won t see no objections. Hilda s not the 
 kind of a girl to look bold doin a thing like that, and she d take no 
 fancy to him, she s so set agen the British. And, Miss Rachel, you d 
 be in and out some, and when you were not I could hover, so as he 
 could know we was doin this out of pure kindness to him and a desire 
 to get a quilt pieced, and not to give him a chance to talk to a girl." 
 
 " Well, Jerusha, we will talk about it," said Rachel, and Jerusha 
 left the room. 
 
 " I would not do anything that might lead to a friendship between 
 Hilda and a foreign soldier," said Edward. 
 
 "Nor I, Edward: but we might ask Cassie Lake to come in the 
 afternoons and bring her work, and then she and Hilrla could go to 
 gether to the lieutenant s room, and the conversation would be general. 
 I would take my work in, too, when I could, and in this way we could 
 give the young man pleasant company. It might do him much good, 
 and do us no harm." 
 
 " In that way the plan does not sound so objectionable, Rachel, 
 but it will be a great responsibility for thee." 
 
 " Yes, but I am willing to accept it, and I think no harm will 
 come of it." 
 
 So Rachel went around to Eriend Armstrong s and told the plan 
 to Cassie s mother and the two girls. Hilda said she would if Cassie 
 would, and Cassie said she didn t mind it if Hilda didn t, so Jerusha 
 and Lieutenant Raymond triumphed. 
 
 The next afternoon Rachel Fuller was called out because of the 
 sudden illness of an aged Friend in the neighborhood, so Jerusha es 
 corted Cassie and Hilda to the lieutenant s room . 
 
 "Are ye wantin company, Lieutenant Raymond?" said Jerusha, 
 when she had obeyed the lieutenant s invitation to " come in."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 59 
 
 " Yes, indeed, Jerusha," and the pale face lighted up with pleas 
 ure. 
 
 " This is Mrs. Lake and Miss Sedgeley," said Jerusha, inwardly 
 amazed at the ease with which she pronounced their titles for the 
 first time in her life. 
 
 " Mrs. Lake Miss Sedgeley," said the lieutenant, smiling and 
 bowing; " I am sorry that I can 
 not rise and play the part of 
 courteous host by placing chairs 
 for you." 
 
 They seated themselves 
 while Jerusha said, " Indeed, 
 Lieutenant Raymond, you may 
 be sure if you was able to rise 
 and play the part of courteous 
 host they wouldn t be a visitin 
 ye." 
 
 This remark broke the ice, 
 and they all laughed. 
 
 " Don t forget that you ve 
 promised to sew what I showed 
 you yesterday," said Jerusha, as 
 she left the room. 
 
 " Sew? " said Hilda, inquir 
 ingly, for the lieutenant s part of 
 the program had not been ex 
 plained by her aunt Rachel. 
 
 " Miss Sedgeley, pity me," 
 said the lieutenant, lifting some 
 papers from the table and dis 
 closing a pile of patches, a large thimble, a needle and thread. " She 
 expects me to sew things together so that the result will be a quilt." 
 
 The girls laughed heartily. " She began this patch for me," con 
 tinued the young man, " so I must try to. sew two or three bits to 
 gether, or she will lose faith in me." 
 
 This was the beginning of the pleasant intercourse with Lieu 
 tenant Raymond, which continued for several weeks. He became
 
 60 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 better acquainted with Hilda than if he had seen her alone. Alone 
 with him she would have felt embarrassed, but in the presence of 
 others she could converse freely with him and was her natural self. 
 He told them of England and of his home. His father was dead; he 
 had two elder sisters married to country gentlemen, and they were 
 leaders in the society of their neighborhood. His mother divided her 
 time between the houses of her daughters, " and," said the lieutenant, 
 " I am left pretty much to myself. The old house is mine, but I have 
 a tenant in it, and I am a homeless wanderer/ 
 
 The young man made friends with Fido and Fairy, and taught 
 them new tricks. He sewed laboriously at his patchwork, much to 
 Jerusha s satisfaction. He inferred, from something that was said, 
 that Cassie s husband was in the army, but he asked no questions and 
 the girls never spoke to him of private affairs. Jerusha bore testi 
 mony afterward that " he was a gentleman anyhow, for he never tried 
 to get no family secrets out o me underhand erl." 
 
 So while his brother officers and his superiors were enjoying the 
 freedom of the city, Lieutenant Raymond was enjoying a home whose 
 atmosphere was simple, yet refined; whose inmates lived without osten 
 tation, without formality, yet with perfect courtesy; with dignified 
 resignation to trial, with serene hope for the future. 
 
 It was his first experience of a home of this sort, and it roused 
 his best emotions. The soldiers brought him stories of gallant adven 
 tures in the city, but he felt no desire to leave his peaceful haven.
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 61 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A SKILLFUL ARTIST. 
 
 " How the world is made for each of us." 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 A FEW days before Christmas George Raymond was able to leave 
 Rachel Fuller s house, and go to the quarters of his regiment. 
 
 " Miss Fuller, will you give me permission to call some evening, 
 to see how your household fares? " he asked at parting. 
 
 We shall be pleased to see thee, George Raymond, if thee cares 
 to come/ answered Rachel. He thanked her gracefully, and took his 
 leave. 
 
 There were no Christmas festivities in the homes of the patriots 
 that year. "Even the Christmas service does not seem quite the 
 same, Hilda," said Edward Love, as they walked home from church. 
 " I miss my good friend, Mr. "White, more than ever in to-day s service, 
 and am less able to feel resigned to the presence of the British 
 preacher. I hope the New Year will bring a change for the better. 
 I wish Washington s men were in a condition to attack the city." 
 
 " But that would mean fighting, Cousin Edward," said Hilda, 
 with a tremor in her voice. 
 
 " Yes, child, but the struggle would be over the sooner. This 
 delay does not help matters much; it merely prolongs suspense. There 
 is much dissatisfaction with Washington s present course, but I dare 
 say he knows the condition of his troops better than we can know it." 
 
 Late in January, 1778, came a letter from Richard Thorpe to 
 Edward Love, enclosing the following one to Hilda: 
 
 DEAR FRIEND HILDA: 
 
 It seems a weary while since I had a Letter from you, three 
 whole months. I know you have written, but the Letters have 
 not come to hand. I cannot write Freely, for this may not 
 reach you but fall into the hands of strangers. I need hardly 
 tell you what you know so well, that you are constantly in my 
 mind. Yet I can say without boasting that the sufferings of 
 this Winter have taught me Patience and have shewn me what 
 5
 
 62 THE SILVER BUCKLED 
 
 men can bear. We came to Valley Forge Decemb ye 19, puorly 
 clad, and with small stock of Provisions. At first we slept upon 
 the hillside, though the weather was Bitter and the ground 
 frozen hard. I with three others had one Blanket between us, 
 which we put over our feet. As soon as we were able we cut 
 down the trees of the Forest, and built log huts to shelter u>. 
 Can you imagine a little town of log hut<? But even yet on the 
 very cold nights we sleep sitting up around the fires. We bake 
 cakes made of flour and water. 1 will not distress you by giv 
 ing a full account of our sufferings. We hope that the Worst is 
 over. \Ve have Shelter and by going to the neighboring wood 
 we can get Fuel. We are still confident of Success, and know 
 that our Cause is just. A German Baron is coming to our camp, 
 named Steuben; he is a soldier, and in the Spring he will train 
 us as soldiers are trained in Europe. That will prepare us bet 
 ter. This War will not last Forever, and when it is over if you 
 will give me your Hand I will devote my life to you. But if 
 your Heart is inclined to another, 1 shall try to bear my loss 
 with Fortitude. 
 
 Ever Yours, R. T. 
 
 After the receipt of this letter Hilda felt that she could never 
 bear to see Lieutenant Raymond again. The British soldiers were 
 living in ease and comfort, while the American troops were enduring 
 hardships which they dared not recount. 
 
 Then her reason told her that Lieutenant Raymond was not to 
 blame, nor were any of the British soldiers individually: these situa 
 tions were simply the chances of war. 
 
 So when the lieutenant spent an hour at Rachel Fuller s house, 
 Hilda made one of the family group. He did not come often, but he 
 was always courteous and affable: and though Edward Love disliked 
 the regiment as a whole more and more each day, he had no cause to 
 dislike Lieutenant Raymond personally. The lieutenant often went 
 to Edward s shop and seemed anxious to win his esteem. 
 
 One February morning Jerusha was scrubbing the front steps 
 when the lieutenant came along. 
 
 "Good morning, Jerusha," said he, "all well in the household? " 
 
 "All as usual, lieutenant. Are ye com in in?" 
 
 " Xot this morning, Jerusha; I have some work to do." 
 
 Jernsha gave him an incredulous glance, and he added, "It s not 
 sewing, it s painting. You didn t know that I could paint, did you? "
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 63 
 
 "Doors or shutters?" asked Jerusha. 
 
 " Neither, Jerusha; it s trees and palaces." 
 
 Hilda, dusting the parlor, heard the conversation, and was amused 
 by it. Jerusha scrubbed vigorously to let the young man see that he 
 could not jest with her. 
 
 " Well, you see, Jerusha, some of our officers are fond of getting 
 up little plays for amusement, and Major Andre, who lives over there 
 in Mr. Franklin s house, paints the scenery for the stage. But he is 
 sick to-day, and he wants help from anyone who can give it; so my 
 regiment sent me to help him." 
 
 "Humph! I ve heard of stages and scenery, but I don t know 
 what they are, and I don t want to know. You d better let em alone." 
 
 " 0, I m not going to let them harm me," said the young man, 
 reassuringly. " By the way, Jerusha, wouldn t you like to have your 
 portrait painted? I can paint portraits, and I should be so glad to do 
 something in return for all your goodness to me." 
 
 This masterly stroke of diplomacy completely conquered Jerusha. 
 "Would ye, really?" said she. "But no, I can t see no reason in 
 bavin your portrait painted if you re not handsome. I couldn t abear 
 to die and leave it hangin on the wall. If ye die without a portrait 
 folks don t remember exactly what ye looked like, and they think ye 
 was handsomer than ye really was, and speak of your comeliness. Now 
 my father was a handsome man; for twenty years I ve been a-wishin 
 I had a portrait o him. If you could do a portrait o him 
 
 "Does he live here?" asked the lieutenant, slightly puzzled by 
 the seeming discrepancy of her remarks. 
 
 "Live here? He died twenty-five year ago in England. But 
 mebbe if I tell you how he looked 
 
 "Yes, yes, Jerusha, certainly; I think I could paint your father s 
 portrait. I ll come one afternoon a week. The days are growing 
 longer, and I shall have a good chance." 
 
 " That ll suit me fine, lieutenant, for in the afternoon I often 
 have settin -down work, like sewing; and I could attend to the picture. 
 Only I must speak to Miss Each el first; I won t do it if she s not 
 willin ." 
 
 "Very well, Jerusha; I ll call soon to find out when we are to 
 begin the portrait. Good morning."
 
 64 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 In a short time the portrait was begun, for Rachel Fuller could 
 not refuse the only favor Jerusha had asked for herself for years. The 
 * sittings " or " hearings/ as Hilda called them, took place in the 
 dining-room, and enlivened many hours that might otherwise have 
 been sad. 
 
 " Before I fix the canvas, Jerusha, give me an idea how large 
 you would like it," said the lieutenant, deferentially. 
 
 I went up to the attic this mornin , lieutenant, and got an old 
 gilt frame that used to be on a mirror, and I ll have it that size, be 
 cause the frame is ready. I ll fetch it." 
 
 " Miss Sedgeley," said the young man, " you must do all in your 
 power to help me through this ordeal. Don t desert me, will you? " 
 
 " I won t desert you, lieutenant; I am too anxious to see how you 
 will manage." 
 
 " Encouraged by your presence, Miss Sedgeley, I am confident of 
 success. Ah, Jerusha, is this the frame? This is excellent for size; 
 just right for a portrait. Now, then, give me a general idea of your 
 father s features." 
 
 " He had a mod rate sized head, his face was wide across the upper 
 part, but come down quite narrow to the chin; always had a good, fresh 
 color, smooth face, ordinary nose, brown eyes, and a cheerful smile." 
 
 " What kind of hair had he? " 
 
 " Hair? Oray with some dark in it, a little thin and layin flat to 
 the top of his head, but thick and curly round the lower part. He 
 wore a brown coat and waistcoat, a high collar, with a brown necker 
 chief tied in a large bow." 
 
 " Well," said the lieutenant, thoughtfully, " I think I have an 
 idea of him. I ll begin the work, but, of course, you ll have to tell 
 me these things again as I go on, and you ll have to watch and tell 
 mo when I make a mistake." 
 
 Xever was work more closely scrutinized than that portrait from 
 start to finish. Jerusha was always in a critical mood, and yet was 
 pleased with the artist s progress. He did not work regularly at the 
 picture, and it was the middle of April before it was ready for the fin 
 ishing touches. 
 
 During one of these last " hearings," when the air was full of the
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 65 
 
 promises of spring, the lieutenant said: " Miss Sedgeley, you are glad 
 at the prospect of spring. Has the winter seemed so sad to you? " 
 
 " I have never liked winter/ said Hilda, " and this winter has 
 been specially hard." Jerusha was flitting in and out of the room. 
 
 "Now," said the artist, to Jerusha, is the complexion right? " 
 
 " Face ain t fresh enough." 
 
 " Well, then, I ll soon fix that." Then he continued his conver 
 sation with Hilda. " The miseries of war/ he said gently, " are mani 
 fold and indescribable. Our men have felt uncomfortable this winter 
 many times at the knowledge that their presence in the city must seem 
 like an insult to the American patriots." 
 
 " From all the accounts I judge that the British have borne up 
 nobly under their discomfort," said Hilda, sarcastically. 
 
 " Jerusha, how s that? What next? " 
 
 " Too much point to the nose." 
 
 " 0, that s easily altered," and he proceeded to remove the ob 
 jectionable point. " Miss Sedgeley, you are not so unjust, are you, 
 as to judge all our men by the actions of some? The circumstances 
 of this winter have been peculiar. Consider, too, that a soldier s life 
 is a hard one, and he could not endure it as he does if he did not take 
 advantage of every respite allowed him. Now, Jerusha?" 
 
 " It seems to me them eyes is too dark." 
 
 " I ll make them lighter, and see how you like them. Do not 
 imagine, Miss Sedgeley, that our troops in general feel any instinctive 
 hatred for the American soldiers. We must do our duty in the ser 
 vice of our King, but I think I may say, without being recreant to 
 duty, that most of us have a feeling of admiration for your soldiers, 
 and under similar circumstances we would do as they have done. 
 Jerusha, what is your opinion now?" 
 
 " That neckerchief ain t tied stiff enough, and the bow ought to 
 be bigger." 
 
 " I can alter it in a few minutes, and then we ll see. T suppose, 
 Miss Sedgeley, Philadelphia has good cause to remember the British 
 soldiers for years to come, but I can assure you that some of the Brit 
 ish soldiers will remember Philadelphia as long as they live. I, for 
 one shall always retain sweet memories of this household: I am not 
 yet strong enough to face the possibility of departure from this city,
 
 CG 
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 and, if I must go, I shall return as soon as possible." He looked at her 
 earnestly. 
 
 " \\ e hear that General Howe is going back to England," said 
 Hilda, desiring to keep the conversation from becoming more em 
 barrassing. 
 
 " Yes, it is no secret now; there is to be a change of command 
 ers." 
 
 " I have seen him riding in his coach, and I cannot bear him," 
 remarked Hilda. "I think Lord Howe is much 
 nicer looking. Ts he going, too?" 
 
 " I cannot tell yon. But you have heard that 
 General Howe s staff officers are preparing a great 
 farewell demonstration?" 
 
 " Yes, we have heard rumors of a gay tourna 
 ment or ball. What is the queer name they call 
 it ? " 
 
 "The Mischianza. It is a Spanish name, I 
 believe, meaning a tilt or tournament. Some of 
 the officers are to dress in fancy pink and white 
 trousers, and have for their device a white and red 
 rose, and call themselves Knights of the Blended 
 Rose." Other officers are to wear black and orange, 
 and they will call themselves Knights of the Burning Mountain/ 
 as that is their device. There will not be any real fighting, you may 
 know; there will be some peacefid way of deciding their challenge to 
 each other, and nobody s feelings will be hurt. Tt will have no interest 
 for me, except as a pretty sight. I will tell you all about it afterward, 
 if you will allow me. Now, Jerusha, I have been waiting for you 
 to come and tell me what to do next." 
 
 " You ll have to make a scar about as long as my thumb nail on 
 that right cheek-bone." 
 
 Tbe scar and otber adjustments were successfully portrayed. 
 "When at last the picture was finished and put into the frame, newly 
 gilded for this purpose, Jerusha beamed with satisfaction. " It 
 couldn t ha been better, lieutenant. So life-like! Many folks don t 
 get as good a likeness as that in settiiv for their real portraits."
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE 67 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 HILDA S BIRTHDAY. 
 
 " That life is long which answers life s great end." 
 
 Young. 
 
 THE twentieth of May, two days after the great tournament, was 
 Hilda s birthday. It was bright and beautiful, and roused a thrill 
 of hope in her heart, though nothing in comparison with the spring 
 raptures of former years. 
 
 Dear child," said her aunt Rachel, " the house affords thee only 
 trifling gifts this birthday; but thee will see better days, I trust, and 
 in the meantime thee has our love and full assurance of our delight 
 in thee." 
 
 Edward Love had gone out early into the fields for wild flowers. 
 He had gathered blossoms daily for Hilda since -their first appearance 
 this spring, but to-day the supply had to be more abundant. He had, 
 in fact, two bouquets. 
 
 "These flowers, Hilda." he said, handing her one bunch, "I 
 picked for Richard s sake, doing what he would do if he were here; 
 and these," giving her the other bunch, " shall speak for me and tell 
 thee how gladly I would enrich thy life if I could." 
 
 " Thee has enriched it always, Cousin Edward, in ways that I can 
 never show thee. These flowers are so sweet and beautiful that they 
 make me sad. It seems that spring ought not to come till we are 
 ready to be glad with it." 
 
 " Nature could not afford to wait, Hilda. The good Lord is mak 
 ing earth beautiful again, and it is man s privilege to enjoy it. Let 
 us enjoy what we may; life comes easier so." 
 
 Memories of the past surged through Hilda s mind that day, 
 and for a time the present was forgotten. She seemed to be more 
 with Richard: his face was before her, his voice was in her ear. He 
 seemed to lie saying again the words of that memorable April even 
 ing. " These flowers have magical charms; when they have told their 
 secret thev will fade." For the first time in more than three years
 
 68 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 she fastened the silver buckle in the soft muslin tucker of her gown 
 that afternoon. It seemed to her as if she had had it for ages, or as 
 if her aunt Rachel had given it to a different Hilda from the one that 
 now possessed it. 
 
 In the afternoon Lieutenant Raymond knocked at the front door, 
 and when Jerusha answered the summons he asked for Miss 
 Sedgeley." Jerusha was surprised, for he had never called in the 
 daytime except when he was painting the portrait, and he had iK-ver 
 tried to see Hilda alone. Jerusha was so awed by the formality of 
 this visit that without a word she showed the lieutenant into the 
 parlor. 
 
 Rachel Fuller made no comment upon the announcement, " Lieu 
 tenant Raymond s in the parlor, and he wants to see Hilda, and he 
 looks as if somethin had happened. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Miss Sedgeley/ said the lieutenant, as she 
 entered the room; " you seem to have a festive air about you. The 
 effect is charming, I assure you; though your effects are always charm- 
 ing." 
 
 "Please don t, Lieutenant Raymond; you know I am not used to 
 such compliments. I don t know how to answer them, as society 
 ladies do, so you have me at a disadvantage. T am a little gay to-day, 
 for it is my birthday, and I am sort of playing by myself, as a child 
 does sometimes." 
 
 "Your birthday, Miss Sedgeley," he repeated; and as he looked 
 at her his color deepened. He paused a moment, and then said: 
 " What a happy coincidence! I have something to tell you, besides 
 describing the Mischianza, but first allow me to wish you many happy 
 
 1 i 1 . 1 J * * -I 1 * 
 
 birthdays. 
 
 Thank you, lieutenant; if good wishes have power. I need not 
 fear the future, thanks to my friends." 
 
 " I came to tell you what my heart bids me say, but T did not 
 dream that the hour would be so auspicious. Hilda, he said, draw 
 ing his chair close, and taking her hand, " I have tried more than once 
 to show my feeling for you, but you seemed not to notice. Xo\v T 
 must speak plainly, for I have learned to love you so that I can no 
 longer be silent. I can satisfy your relatives as to my home and my
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 69 
 
 character, I am perfectly free to offer you my love, and I ask you to 
 accept it. Does not your heart bid you say yes ? " 
 
 As she did not speak he continued. " This war need be no obsta 
 cle to our happiness. I would not ask you to leave your home now, 
 but will you not allow me. to hope that when the war is over I may 
 come for you? Hilda, let my cause be strengthened by this voice 
 from the past," and he drew from his waistcoat an ornament attached 
 to his watchguard and held it toward her the silver buckle. 
 
 With a cry she sprang to her feet, grasping the buckle with trem 
 bling fingers. 
 
 " Dear Hilda, do not let this frighten you. I had no expectation 
 of finding its counterpart when I came into this house to-day. I came 
 to tell you of my love; my affections were given you long before I saw 
 the buckle on your gown. But when I saw it my heart leaped, for I 
 felt that Fortune had come with both hands full. " 
 
 She loosened her buckle, and placed it by the other, to examine 
 them closely. The tracery of the ivy and oak leaves was similar; the 
 date, 1660, was on each; on hers were the words, " Fortis, Fidelis; " on 
 his was the completion of the motto, " Felix." 
 
 Hilda felt dizzy. " 0, Lieutenant Raymond," she exclaimed, " I 
 have not thought of you in this way." 
 
 " Xo, dearest, but does the thought seem disagreeable now? Is 
 there any reason why I could not win your love? Will you not let me 
 try? My feelings toward you will never change. I consider myself 
 pledged to you, but you are still free. You have been too suddenly 
 surprised. Do not answer me to-night, only say that I may come 
 again, let me come often, as a familiar friend, with the hope that 
 your heart will incline toward me that you will bless the Providence 
 that has brought us together that you will accept this silver buckle 
 as a happy omen. Shall I leave you now, and come again to-morrow 
 evening?" 
 
 " Yes," she answered faintly. 
 
 He rose at once. "Good-bye, sweetheart," he said, and, kissing 
 her hand, he left the house. Hilda replaced her buckle, and went to 
 her room as one walking in sleep. She did not know her own heart. 
 
 When she was herself again she went down stairs thinking tea
 
 70 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 must be ready. She found her Aunt Rachel waiting, for Cousin Ed 
 ward had not yet come. 
 
 " Strange what keeps him," said Rachel Fuller, anxiously. 
 
 " If he don t come soon," said Jerusha, " I ll run round to the 
 shop and see if he s extra busy. If he d been took sick the clerk 
 would a come round and told us." 
 
 The anxiety deepened, and at last Jerusha went to the shop, and 
 came back breathless, attended by the clerk. 
 
 " Mr. Love left the shop at four o clock," the clerk said, " to take 
 a littte walk. He had just been chatting awhile with that Lieutenant 
 Raymond, and had fitted a key to his watch. He was just as usual all 
 day, but looked a little pale when he left, I thought, and seemed to 
 lean a little harder on his cane." 
 
 In that instant Hilda knew that her cousin had seen the silver 
 buckle on the lieutenant s watchguard, and had been disturbed by it. 
 Where was he now?" 
 
 After a hurried consultation as to where he should be sought, 
 they ran to the houses of friends, but in vain. It was almost dark 
 when one of the neighbors suggested that they should put Fido on 
 the scent for him, so the faithful dog was called into service. 
 
 And where was Edward Love? That afternoon when he had 
 recognized the silver buckle he had made no sign. The lieutenant 
 did not know that the buckle had aroused any emotions; the clerk 
 had heard nothing. What Edward s feelings were may be imagined. 
 His great love for Richard, his conviction that Richard loved Hilda, 
 his knowledge of Hilda s superstitious feelings about the buckle, all 
 combined to make the sudden revelation of the afternoon well-nigh 
 intolerable. As soon as he could he left the shop, and turned his 
 steps toward Christ Church, his favorite resting-place at this hour, 
 when the organist was generally practicing. He entered, but did not 
 go near the organ loft, as he had usually done before, but sat down 
 in a distant pew, where he remained unobserved. He was gathering 
 courage to face an impending sorrow. 
 
 0, gentle, loving heart, who shall say what thoughts visited thoe 
 that bright spring afternoon, in thy beloved church, when the silence 
 was broken only by the organ s solemn music! Did thy youth come
 
 A corner of Christ Church.
 
 t 2 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 back again, with its hopes and ambitions? Didst thou dwell once 
 more in thy early home in beautiful England: Did the disappoint 
 ment of thy married life press more closely on thy tired heart, making 
 thee more conscious of the mockery of thy love s young dream? Were 
 thy physical sufferings more acute by reason of thy mental anguish? 
 Did thy present sorrow overwhelm thee, whispering with phantom 
 voice, " Lo, thy life s evening is to be cold and gray? Or did the 
 hallowed influences of the place reassure thee, saying, " Thy strength 
 shall be as thy days? " 
 
 Hilda, Jerusha, the clerk, and two or three neighbors were led 
 to the church door by the sagacious dog, who would not be diverted 
 from his course. The sexton was quickly summoned, a lantern was 
 lighted, the door was opened, and there they found him, sitting cold 
 and still. The troubled child had found everlasting peace in his 
 Father s house. 
 
 The dreadful shock to Hilda s young life, and the loss of her 
 dear companion and counsellor, were intensified by the certainty that 
 he had suffered because of her. She spoke of it to no one at that 
 time, and no one suspected it. Rachel Fuller did not dream that the 
 lieutenant possessed the talisman that would influence Hilda; the clerk 
 knew nothing about the buckle: the lieutenant knew nothing of 
 Richard: Hilda alone comprehended the situation. For days she was 
 nervous and feverish, seeing no one except her aunt Rachel, Cassie, 
 and Jerusha. 
 
 Before she gathered strength to come down stairs again, the Brit 
 ish army had left Philadelphia, and" American troops, led by General 
 Arnold, had taken possession of the city. 
 
 Lieutenant Raymond had paid a farewell visit to Rachel Fuller, 
 leaving this note for Hilda. 
 
 MY DEAREST: 
 
 I sympathize too sincerely with you to intrude upon your 
 Grief. Be comforted. If you will accept my Love you will have 
 constant Companionship and Devotion. Together we will Cherish 
 the Memory of the One who is gone. When the War is over I 
 will come for my Answer. 
 
 Yours in life and death, 
 17 June, 1778. GEORGE RAYMOND.
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 73 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 FROM CAMP TO FIELD. 
 
 "Posterity! you will never know how much it cost the present 
 generation to preserve your freedom! I hope you will make 
 good use of it. If you do not, 1 shall repent it in heaven that I 
 ever took half the pains to preserve it." John Adams. 
 
 How FARED it meanwhile with the Continental Army? Did the 
 sweet springtime visit the vale of misery and suffering? Yes, thank 
 heaven! Gradually the bitter winds at Valley Forge gave place to 
 mild, healing breezes; the streams resumed their wonted courses; the 
 hard earth was covered with a soft green carpet, most grateful to the 
 unshod feet that had left blood-prints upon the sharp, frozen ground; 
 strengthening herbs sprang up side by side with wild flowers; the win 
 ter of unparalleled suffering, self-sacrifice, and heroism became, at last, 
 to the eleven thousand survivors, nothing but an awful memory. 
 
 Early in May the camp thrilled with new life and stronger hope 
 because of the news that Erance would aid their cause. General Wash 
 ington ordered the chaplains to read aloud the Treaty of Alliance and 
 to offer special thanks becaiise there had been " raised up a powerful 
 friend among the princes of the earth." The troops were inspected 
 and reviewed, and then, amid the noise of artillery and musketry, went 
 up the mighty shout, " Long live the King of France." 
 
 The troops had greatly profited by the careful training and mili 
 tary discipline introduced some weeks before by Baron Steuben, and 
 felt more confident of themselves. So, as the season advanced, they 
 began to be impatient for a new encounter with the enemy. This 
 desire was strengthened when it was rumored that the British would 
 ere long be obliged to evacuate Philadelphia, as General Washington 
 had more than once found means to cut off their supplies, and a French 
 fleet would soon be in the Delaware and hem them in completely. 
 
 The departure of the British from Philadelphia has already been 
 mentioned in connection with Lieutenant Raymond. Their objective 
 point was New York, in order to unite with the forces then in
 
 74 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 possession of that city. About three thousand of their men were sent 
 round by sea, but the others took up the line of inarch. 
 
 And so it came about that the high noon of June 18th, 1778, and 
 the ten succeeding days saw a strange commotion in the Province of 
 Xew Jersey. A splendid army, more than ten thousand in number, 
 under the renowned leaders, Clinton, C ornwallis, and Knyphausen, 
 moved along in a northeasterly direction, the fine uniforms and trap 
 pings making a brilliant show in spite of the clouds of dust which 
 filled the air; and, stretching behind it, in a line twelve miles long, 
 were the baggage wagons. Then, in due time, another army rose upon 
 the landscape. It had inarched northward from Valley Forge, it had 
 crossed the Delaware above Trenton, it watched the British troops, 
 it more than once retarded their march. So, the two great hostile 
 forces moved along, each mindful of the other. 
 
 At Hopewell, near Princeton, General Washington called a coun 
 cil of war. " Generals," said he, " the British are at Allen Town. Our 
 detachments have harrassed them; they regard us as a formidable host, 
 for they have changed their course and are taking the Monmouth 
 Road, doubtless with the intention of reaching Sandy Hook as speed 
 ily as possible. The conditions seem to me favorable for making a 
 general attack. What do you think, gentlemen?" 
 
 " I believe it could be easily planned and successfully carried 
 out, General," said Greene. 
 
 " I think your Excellency s judgment is good," said Lafayette. 
 
 " I am eager to attack them," said Wayne. 
 
 "I think, General," said Cadwalader, "that we might strike a 
 blow that would greatly injure them." 
 
 " General, it cannot be done with any chance of success," said 
 Lee. " The armies are too nearly equal in numbers for us to hope 
 for advantage in the open field. Consider how it was at the Brandy- 
 wine and at Germantown. This would be but a repetition of those 
 disasters." 
 
 " Our men are in better condition now, and are more easily di 
 rected, thanks to you, Baron Steuben," said General Washington. 
 
 " Their training has not been tested upon the battlefield," an 
 swered Lee. "If the British defeat us now, they would leave us
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 75 
 
 exhausted, while they, hurrying away, would unite with their New 
 York forces and could strike a decisive blow before we had recovered." 
 
 General Washington proceeded to detail some plans that he 
 thought would render the attack successful; but so hot was Lee in his. 
 opposition that most of the other officers, except those who had al 
 ready expressed themselves in favor of it, gave voice against the attack, 
 and the council broke up. Afterward, however, Lafayette, Greene, 
 and Wayne sent in written remonstrances ^against the decision, and 
 General Washington announced that he would " move on and be gov 
 erned by circumstances." 
 
 Both armies moved forward. On Saturday evening, the twenty- 
 seventh of June, they encamped within six miles of each other, the 
 British variously disposed near Monmouth Court-House, and the 
 Americans west of English Town, with advanced detachments under 
 Lee nearer to the enemy. Lee had at first begged to be excused from 
 this appointment, and General Washington had placed Lafayette in 
 charge. Later, however, Lee had asked for the place, and Lafayette 
 had generously yielded and taken the second command. Lee had 
 under him five thousand men, and some of the bravest officers. Gen 
 eral Washington had given them orders to " lose no fair opportunity 
 for an attack." 
 
 The night was oppressively hot; the day had been sultry; showers 
 had fallen, but without any cooling effect; the ground seemed to 
 steam. Many of the soldiers had been prostrated, some had died. 
 
 Midnight brought a slight relief, but with the earliest ray of 
 dawn it became evident that the heat of the new day would be of 
 awful intensity. Nature was in a malevolent mood, and seemed to be 
 showing how cruel she can sometimes be to man. And on that hot, 
 sickening, Sunday morning man should have relaxed his efforts and 
 rested from his labors; but he did not. His hand was lifted against 
 his brother. 
 
 On that day was fought what is known in history as the battle 
 of Monmouth. It was the strangest battle of the Revolution. It might 
 so easily have been made the decisive, conclusive battle, but it was not. 
 Nowhere did men perform more daring deeds, yet nothing material was 
 gained. The vacillation of the irritable, jealous Lee rendered fruit 
 less the best efforts of the Americans. He neglected to concentrate
 
 ?6 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 his troops, he took no proper advantage of opportunities, though re 
 peatedly urged to do so by Wayne and Lafayette; nor did he send any 
 messages to the main army beyond English Town. 
 
 Two slight skirmishes occurred in the early morning, when the 
 British took up the line of march. A third and serious one began 
 about eleven o clock, in the course of which the advance guards of 
 the British, a mile distant, wheeled about and began to retrace their 
 steps toward the scene of action. Lee, suddenly seeing his men in a 
 dangerous situation, gave orders to retreat. The men, weary with 
 hours of marching and countermarching, parched with thirst, weak 
 ened by loss of hope, retreated rapidly across the bridge over the 
 ravine at the west of the field, Lee bringing up the rear. 
 
 Meanwhile, General Washington, a few miles distant, hearing the 
 heavy cannonading, knew that a battle was in progress; and, though 
 he had received from Lee no request for reinforcements, he set out 
 with the whole army. Ever and anon, as the eager columns pushed 
 forward under the hot noonday sun, through shifting sand and chok 
 ing dust, they heard the roar of artillery, and they thought of vic 
 tory. But what was their dismay when they received news that Lee s, 
 forces were in full retreat, with the British in pursuit! Then they 
 met the first of the fugitives, who were not able to give any account 
 of the action, nor any reason for the retreat. Washington, frenzied 
 with anger, called a halt, and, spurring his white horse onward, de 
 scended like a thunderbolt upon Lee. " Sir, in the name of heaven, 
 what does this mean? " 
 
 " Sir sir," stammered Lee, beginning some excuse. 
 
 "Will you take command of these men?" interrupted Washing 
 ton, " and check the enemy, if I form the line of battle? " 
 
 " Yes," said Lee, stung to fury, " and T will not be the first to 
 leave the field." 
 
 From point to point galloped the commander-in-chief, giving the 
 necessary orders, while the troops, infused with new spirit, shouted, 
 "Long live Washington." He drew the men into line, he wheeled 
 them around, and Lee led them forward, while Washington went back 
 and brought up the main army. 
 
 Then the battle became furious. The British grenadiers bore 
 down with tremendous force upon the central column under Wayne;
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 7? 
 
 the right wing under Greene was hard pressed; the deadly cannon 
 ading of Knyphausen responded promptly to the cannonading of Stir 
 ling and Knox. The roar of the battle was heard for many miles, 
 the whole plain shook with the force of the conflict. But, little by 
 little, inch by inch, step by step, the Continental Army forced the 
 British backward a short distance, and the darkness of night merci 
 fully stayed the strife. Within sight of each other, resting upon their 
 arms, Americans and British laid down upon the battlefield. 
 
 Among the prostrate forms were many dead and dying. Some 
 of the dying were horribly conscious of their sufferings, others were 
 in a blissful stupor. Near to a young man whose lifeblood was slowly 
 but surely ebbing from a ghastly wound, and who, from the moment 
 of his fall, had been keenly sensible of his martyrdom, was a form 
 that had lain rigid for hours. But life had not really left him, and 
 at last he began to relax and show other hopeful signs. He rubbed 
 his face, he stretched his arms, he raised himself to a sitting posture, 
 he drew up his knees, and, putting his elbows upon them, rested his 
 head upon his hands. 
 
 The terrible weakness of a gradual return to consciousness after 
 a long period of insensibility can hardly be understood by those who 
 have not had such an experience. 
 
 After a time the man, trying thus to rally his forces, became 
 aware of the sufferer beside him. He bent toward him and managed 
 to say, though his throat was parched and his lips were blistered, " Did 
 you speak to me? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the other faintly, " I have been longing to 
 speak, but there seemed to be no one to listen. I cannot see whether 
 you are one of us or not." 
 
 " I am an American," answered the first speaker. 
 
 " Then we have been against each other, but it matters little 
 now." 
 
 " Who has the field?" asked the American. 
 
 " I cannot tell. I think your troops. Will you take a trust from 
 me and fulfill it as you hope for mercy in your dying moments? Oh! 
 water, water," he moaned. 
 
 " Yes, water," echoed the American; " I must try to find some." 
 6
 
 80 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 frightened, they ran to the kitchen and were astonished to see the 
 usually imperturbable Jerusha laughing hysterically, with tears rolling 
 down her cheeks and both hands uplifted to push aside John Peters, 
 who was flourishing a large tin dipper full of water, and trying to 
 induce her to take a drink. 
 
 " 1 come in too sudden, give her a kind o turn," said John, by 
 way of explanation. 
 
 " 1 know she is glad to see thee, John Peters, and so am I," said 
 Rachel, shaking hands with him heartily. 
 
 " John Peters," said Hilda, grasping both his hands, for Jerusha 
 had recovered her composure and taken the dipper from him, " it is 
 just good to see you. But how did you get here? " 
 
 1 thought it was one o them Injuns rushin in," said Jerusha. 
 " I know d it couldn t be anybody belongin to the city, a pouncin in 
 in such a heathen way." 
 
 " Xo," said John, loudly and emphatically, " it s somebody be 
 long-in to the country, and somebody who likes the country so much 
 that he s goin to stay in the country, and not go roamin round with 
 soldiers no more." 
 
 " Why, John, has thee come home to stay? " asked Rachel Fuller. 
 
 "Yes, I ve come home to stay. My time was up again in the 
 army, and I just said to myself, l John Peters, don t yon go and re- 
 enlist as you done before. There ll be a famine if some men don t go 
 bark to the farms and raise decent crop?. So home I come. My 
 farm s been idle for three years, but I m goin to do some tremendous 
 work on it, and have big crops next season, and the soldiers is goin 
 to get the best o them." 
 
 "House must need a lot o cleanin, bein shut up so long," said 
 Jerusha. 
 
 " Tt may need it, but it won t get it," said John. 
 
 "A heathen way to live," muttered Jerusha, "but good enough 
 for the beatben country." 
 
 " Toll u? something about tbe war. John," said Hilda. 
 
 " T can t tell you anything more than you know already. Tt ? 
 beon a month since T quit, but T oomo borne slow, for T was sick ovor 
 yonder in the Jerseys. I ain t seen Richard Thorpe nor Josiah Lake
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 81 
 
 since we broke up camp at Valley Forge, for 1 was changed to a differ 
 ent company." 
 
 " But, John, tell us some stories about the war; tell us some of 
 the things you have seen and heard," said Hilda. 
 
 "1 won t tell nothin ," said John, decidedly, "for it 1 did you d 
 be sittin 1 do\vn picturin things to yourself, and there ain t not bin* 
 pleasant about war. 1 don t see why folks should talk for the sake o 
 talkin unless they re talkin o somethin pleasant." 
 
 " Does thee know of our loss, John?" asked Rachel. 
 
 "Yes," said he, with a slight approach to gentleness of tone. " I 
 passed the shop on my way here, and I stopped in and heard all about 
 it. And I tell you what, Miss Rachel," and his tone gradually re 
 sumed its wonted strength, " I m a comin to town frequent to look 
 in on ye, to see what ye need, for no house can get along all times 
 without a man. And whenever ye need me, just speak. Will ye? " 
 
 He might have been threatening to take her life, if one judged 
 merely by his tone and attitude, but Rachel Fuller had known John 
 Peters too long to doubt his honest kindness now. " Thank thee, 
 John, thank thee; we shall look to thee if we need a man s help. And 
 if we can help thee, thee must let us know. Turn about is fair play, 
 thee knows." 
 
 " Well, I m ste ppin ," said he, " but ye ll see me again. Good 
 bye," and he went out like a whirlwind. 
 
 During the next two months he came frequently, sometimes stay 
 ing only a few minutes, sometimes an hour. Jerusha went on with 
 her work regardless of his presence, or else she made him lend assist 
 ance in various ways, " to teach him," as she said, " how to do for 
 himself on that heathen farm." 
 
 "Jerusha," said Hilda, one day, "don t you like John Peters a 
 good deal better than you used to?" 
 
 "Humph!" was the answer, "when people do their work thor 
 ough and keep busy, they ve no time to set chewin over likes and dis 
 likes." 
 
 " P)iit don t you think he is a real good man and a good farmer? " 
 
 " Well, he ain t so terrible bad." 
 
 " Don t you think lie would be a good husband to a capable, in 
 dustrious woman?"
 
 84 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 GRAY AND GOLD. 
 
 " Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold look 
 
 Across the waters to this twilight nook, 
 The far sad waters, Angel, to this nook!" 
 
 Robert Broicninff. 
 
 THE hearty satisfaction and the quiet humor felt by Hilda Sedge- 
 ley at the courtship and marriage of John and Jerusha acted as a 
 wholesome tonic for her depressed spirits. She had a real affection 
 for the honest maid-servant, whose relation to the members of Rachel 
 Fuller s family was much less formal than that existing between ser 
 vants and the families of " world s " people. Hilda entered eagerly 
 into the preparations for the wedding and the removal to Jerusha s 
 new home, and even beguiled Jerusha into a little mirth. But after 
 Jerusha s departure the household resumed its quiet ways, and Hilda 
 fell back upon the train of thought that liad followed the death of 
 Edward Love. 
 
 Constantly mingled with the memories of her cousin Edward 
 came thoughts of Richard Thorpe. The sweet friendship with 
 Richard, founded on long and intimate acquaintance, seemed to have 
 a more real and substantial good when contrasted with her present 
 loneliness. True, she thought also of Lieutenant Raymond, for whom 
 she had a strong liking; but he now seemed as the acquaintance of a 
 week, while Richard was the friend of years. When she thought of 
 the future, Richard was a figure in the scene; when she had pleasant 
 dreams, Richard was by her side. Should she regard Lieutenant Ray 
 mond s silver buckle as an omen to guide her future conduct? But 
 again, should she not regard her cousin Edward s death, her subse 
 quent illness, and the withdrawal of the British, as friendly interposi 
 tions warning her against the undue influence of a superstitious fancy? 
 She did not often receive letters from Richard, for he had not the 
 pen of a ready writer, and, moreover, the post was not a sure mean? 
 of communication. But every letter thai she did receive from him
 
 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 85 
 
 contained assurances of his unchanged feelings toward her. She 
 sometimes heard indirectly from him through Josiah Lake, who wrote 
 to Cassie epistles that were voluminous in comparison with those of 
 Richard. Joe wrote long accounts of the war, and often spoke of 
 Richard as " the best of fellows," at which praise Hilda s heart burned 
 within her. 
 
 Gradually she began to know herself. In the long, monotonous 
 months that followed, she had full time to question her heart and to 
 find its answer. This certainty brought her a kind of rest, but no 
 real happiness. For Richard was far away in the South, in the midst 
 of all the horrors and dangers of a war whose end was still far dis 
 tant. Would he ever come again? Should she ever again know the 
 sound of light laughter and happy voices? It seemed to her that she 
 could scarcely remember the time when she had not felt the dull 
 heartache that now possessed her. She thought of her former self a& 
 one thinks of a little friend who died in childhood. So, waiting 
 bravely, loving faithfully, hoping patiently, Hilda spent the years, 
 while the war dragged on relentlessly. 
 
 In September, 1781, excitement was again rife in Philadelphia, 
 for the American troops and their allies were concentrating their 
 forces against the British at Yorktown. The month that followed 
 was a time of terrible suspense. 
 
 " What ll we do if the British come to Philadelphia again? " asked 
 Hannah Lake, with awestruck countenance. 
 
 " 0, Hannah, don t speak of it," said Hilda, rushing out of the 
 room. 
 
 " It seems to me," said Rachel Fuller one day to Susan Walton, 
 "that I have never felt so far away from England as I do this day, 
 and I cannot explain the feeling. The graves of my loved ones there 
 seem now to be in a strange country. This unlawful war has made 
 between us a breach more formidable than the Atlantic Ocean." 
 
 " Yes, Rachel," answered Susan, " we have seen sad changes. In 
 spite of all the blessings and comforts I have enjoyed in this land, I 
 have never been without a slight feeling of homesickness for the old 
 country." 
 
 "I have often thought, Susan, that after one is twenty-five years 
 old, no decided change can be made in the mode of life without leav-
 
 88 THE SILVER BUCKLE. 
 
 A man turns the corner of the street, and Hilda listlessly wonders 
 who he is, though she does not really care. But suddenly the stars 
 seem to dance before her eyes, the light grows more brilliant, her 
 pulse leaps more wildly, she feels hot, though standing in the chilly 
 air. The man stops in front of her. 
 
 "Richard Thorpe! she exclaims, and holds out both hands, 
 trembling. 
 
 " Hilda, dearest Hilda," he murmurs, clasping her hands and kiss 
 ing them. 
 
 She led him into the parlor, and, as they sat down side by side,, 
 she said, " Has Joe Lake come, too? 
 
 <k Yes, he is with (Jassie now. What an age it is, Hilda, since we 
 sat here that April night when I gave you the blossoms! Do you re 
 member? " 
 
 " I remember it well, Richard. I was glad that the hard winter 
 was over; I said that the time for the singing of birds had come, but 
 a moment later Jo brought news of the battle, and that changed every 
 thing. Perhaps the birds have sung since then, but they have not 
 sung to me." 
 
 " Xor to me either, Hilda. I have been hearing the song of bul 
 lets and the cry of suffering. But the hope of winning you, Hilda, 
 has buoyed me up even in moments of greatest struggle. Over and 
 over again T have pictured myself coming to you for the answer to 
 my question of that April night. And. sweetheart, T am doubly 
 strengthened to plead my cause with you now, for fortune has given 
 me this the silver buckle/ 
 
 "Richard, Richard," she said, impulsively throwing her arm? 
 around his neck. " you did not need this, for my answer has long been 
 ready." 
 
 " But it satisfies your heart to have this buckle, does it not? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes: but how did you get it. Richard? " 
 
 "\Vith his arm around her and her head upon his shoulder, he told 
 her of the dying man who lay beside him on the field of Monmonth, 
 and she told him the whole story of Lieutenant Raymond. " Richard." 
 sbe said, in conclusion, " T cannot help grieving for him. It is always- 
 sad to lose a friend, but to lose him in that way is terrible."
 
 TILE SILVER BUCKLE. 89 
 
 " Sweetheart, I should think it strange if you did not show sor 
 row for his loss." 
 
 " It was a long time, Richard/ she said, after a pause, " before I 
 understood myself, but at last 1 knew that I could never accept the 
 buckle from him." 
 
 " Ihit you are glad that I have it to give to you, are you not, 
 Hilda?" 
 
 " Yes, Richard, 1 am glad and thankful. It seems like the hand 
 of Providence lifted to bless us. Fortis h delis ," she said softly, 
 looking at him lovingly. 
 
 " Felix." he added, rapturously. 
 
 A little later in the autumn Cassie and Joe, Hilda and Richard 
 went to the farm of John Peters to gather nuts. They gathered also 
 some beautiful leaves, which were carefully pressed, and were after 
 ward used to trim Rachel Fuller s parlor for a happy wedding. And 
 on a beautiful Indian summer afternoon, in the year 1783, the Rev 
 erend William White, the beloved rector of Christ Church, united in 
 marriage Hilda Sedgeley and Richard Thorpe. 
 
 FINIS.
 
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