THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 c 
 
 DONALD McELROY 
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN
 
 NELLY STOOD READY TO RECEIVE THE GENER.
 
 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 
 
 BY 
 
 W. W. CALDWELL 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 FRANK T. MERRILL 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 
 GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1918, by 
 George W. Jacobs & Company 
 
 Att rights reserved 
 Printed in 17. 5. A.
 
 PS 
 
 \ 
 
 c 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 g 
 
 Nelly stood ready to receive the General Frontispiece 
 
 5T I laid the floral wreath carefully upon 
 
 the bright curls .... Facing p. SI 
 
 3 
 
 w "You have evidently mistaken me for 
 
 | a villain" . . . . . . " 112 
 
 p- "Cousin Donald! Colonel Clark!" 
 
 she called sharply . .... " 215 
 
 o 
 
 ; J 
 fl 
 
 459966
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 The life story of most men, who have lived 
 earnest and active lives, would doubtless be worth 
 the hearing, if the various influences and the many 
 vicissitudes which compose it could be separated and 
 skillfully rearranged into some well wrought design. 
 As I look back upon my own life, it seems to me full 
 of interest and instruction, yet I suppose not more 
 so than that of many another; wherefore, were per- 
 sonal experiences and conclusions the sum of it, I 
 should hesitate to write them down, lest those events 
 and struggles which to me have seemed notable and 
 significant, should prove in the telling of them to 
 have been but commonplace incidents to which all 
 are liable. Because of the accident of my birth in 
 the year 1754, however, I have lived through a 
 period which will be ever memorable in the history 
 of the world a period so crowded with worthy 
 deeds and great men, especially on this continent, 
 that there is small danger its interest will be soon 
 exhausted. Do not conclude that I intend to venture 
 upon a tale of the American Revolution ; only a mas- 
 ter's hand can fill in with due skill and proportion 
 so wide a canvas, and that story waits. Where my 
 own life's story has been entangled with some of 
 the events of that struggle I must touch upon them, 
 and the real purpose of my narrative which is 
 to chronicle for future generations the noble part
 
 8 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 played in the great drama of the nation's making 
 by a certain worthy people will require me to re- 
 view briefly a few of the battles and campaigns of 
 our war against autocracy. 
 
 The Scotch Irish of America, through the com- 
 mendable habit of that race, so it be not carried too 
 far, to put their strength into deeds rather than into 
 words, have missed their meed of credit for the im- 
 portant work they did in our struggle for liberty. 
 Now, our honored fellow-countrymen and co-patri- 
 ots, the Puritans, have not made this mistake; they 
 took their part in action nobly, and also they have 
 taken care to record in history, song, and story the 
 might and glory of their deeds. The " Boston Tea 
 Party " and the " Boston Massacre " will go down 
 emblazoned on the page of history, but the fight at 
 Alamance, and the vehement petitions urging resist- 
 ance to tyranny sent up to state conventions, and 
 the first Congress, by the Scotch Irish counties of 
 Virginia, North Carolina, and Pennsylvania have 
 scarcely been heard of. 
 
 It is my hope not only to show what the Scotch 
 Irish have done for the cause of liberty, but also to 
 give a just idea of the character of this people, a true 
 picture of their home life, and a correct estimate of 
 that religion which is so dear to them, and which 
 has had so much to do with making them the free- 
 dom-loving, and withal broad-minded patriots they 
 are. Few men, I flatter myself, are better equipped 
 to tell a Scotch Irish story than I, Donald McElroy, 
 who in blood am pure blue Scotch Irish, who have 
 been instructed by Scotch Irish divines in things tem- 
 poral and spiritual, have fought under Scotch Irish
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 9 
 
 leaders, and lived all my life among them: yet I 
 think I may promise that my story shall not be a 
 mere idyl a panegyric of a people, all whose vir- 
 tues will be exaggerated, all whose faults will be 
 slurred, or kept out of sight. I have seen too much 
 of life not to know that for each height there is a 
 shadow, that every noble trait of character is closely 
 attended by a special weakness. I know the faults 
 of my people as I know their virtues, and through one 
 dearer to me than all else the world holds, I have 
 suffered much from that narrowness of view and 
 stubbornness of purpose peculiar to some of them. 
 
 My boyhood was spent within the bounds of our 
 own plantation, in the valley of Virginia. Rarely 
 was I allowed to venture beyond sight of the house 
 unless in company with my father, or some of the 
 negro slaves; then only to the plow lands, or the 
 harvest fields, until I had learned the use of rifle, 
 knife and tomahawk. After that I was permitted to 
 hunt in the forest, being solemnly charged each time 
 by my mother that I should not go more than a few 
 hundred yards into the woods in any direction, nor 
 be lured by deer or squirrel into the thickets. There 
 might be Indians lurking in the bushes any day, and 
 the youthfulness of a scalp did not impair its value. 
 Later, when I could ride and run like an Indian, and 
 shoot a bounding deer through the heart, at a dis- 
 tance of three hundred feet, I was not admonished 
 so frequently, and used often to hunt alone the day 
 long, coming home at twilight, my horse strung 
 round with many kinds of game. 
 
 All this time with my uncle's eldest son, Thomas, 
 I was being taught English, Greek, Latin and Math-
 
 io DONALD MCELROY 
 
 ematics by an old Scotchman, who had become one 
 of my grandfather's household before the family 
 left Pennsylvania. He was a fellow of Edinburgh 
 University, and but for the disabilities of encroach- 
 ing age was well fitted to bestow upon us all the 
 education we could imbibe. 
 
 Among the incidents of my boyhood, two stand 
 out with peculiar distinctness. Both were fraught 
 with terrible danger, and yet, as they come back to 
 me, I realize with something of astonishment that 
 except for one brief moment, on each occasion, I 
 felt only a sensation of exhilarating excitement and 
 grim determination. By living in the midst of 
 hourly peril, we pioneers were dulled to the sense 
 of it. Our one thought when peril overtook us was 
 to do our utmost, in the full assurance that the 
 God of our fathers, who miraculously had preserved 
 us through so many dangers, would again interpose 
 for our deliverance. In such faith, and naught 
 else could have served them, my mother went sing- 
 ing about her work, and my father stood guard, 
 alone, over his slaves, day after day, as they felled 
 the timber on the hill slopes, in sight of the moun- 
 tain pass through which the Indians were accustomed 
 to raid our valley, without cause or warning. 
 
 This Saturday afternoon, in the fall of the year, I 
 had gone hunting afoot. In hot pursuit after a deer, 
 I penetrated a thicket deep in the forest, there to 
 lose track of my game. But in making my way 
 out, came full upon a panther's burrow, and so much 
 admired the one striped and mottled cub curled 
 therein, that the fancy seized me to carry it home 
 and attempt to tame it. Hearing no sound of the
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN n 
 
 parent beast, I put the sleeping cub into my game 
 bag, and started homeward. Scarcely half a mile 
 had been covered when there came from the thicket 
 behind me that nerve-shaking cry of the panther, re- 
 sembling nothing else so much as the scream of a 
 child in mortal terror. My steady gait quickened 
 into a run. A second screech came from the pur- 
 suing panther. Knowledge of my danger lent wings 
 to my limbs, but the beast gained on me with long 
 leaps of her agile body. Louder and louder 
 sounded her oft repeated cries, and the cub in my 
 bag answered with pitiable whines. I could hear 
 her deep, swift panting, and the soft thud of her 
 feet upon the leafy ground. The open field was 
 gained but a few yards in advance of her, and turn- 
 ing to face my foe a sudden panic seized me. To my 
 amazement she paused at the edge of the forest, and, 
 after turning a scornful glance in my direction, fixed 
 a meditative eye upon a sunset more gorgeous than 
 usual. With that alertness of observation, and 
 acuteness of consciousness which most persons ex- 
 perience in moments of high tension, I remember 
 noting the rich coloring of the tan and brown rings 
 on the creature's sleek and mottled skin, and of 
 thinking what a fine, soft cover it would make for 
 my mother's rocking chair. 
 
 Suddenly the panther turned toward me, uttering 
 a still more blood-curdling cry, and crouched for 
 a spring. My ball met her as she rose, but only to 
 sting her, and make her the more furious. Her 
 body came against mine with the force of a cannon 
 ball, and I went down under it, my unloaded rifle 
 being hurled from my hand. Fastened by the ani-
 
 12 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 mal's claws, together we rolled over and over in 
 the dry, matted grass of the meadow, struggling des- 
 perately. 
 
 The confused, doubtful struggle was presently 
 over and not only was I alive and fully conscious, 
 but could even move my mangled arm, and stand 
 upon my feet. The hilt of my knife stuck straight 
 upward in the long fur upon the creature's breast, 
 and I pulled it out, wiped it upon the grass, and 
 sheathed it, thinking I would not use it again, but 
 keep it for remembrance. 
 
 Again I was struck by the thickness and beauty 
 of the panther's skin, and wished to have it for my 
 mother's chair. It was my custom to carry a leath- 
 ern thong in the outer pouch of my game bag; one 
 end of it I now fastened about the beast's body, the 
 other about my own, and so dragged the carcass 
 after me across the level field. Slow and painful 
 was my progress, for my lacerated shoulder and 
 arm smarted maddeningly, and every few yards I 
 was forced to drop upon the ground to rest. 
 
 The full moon was two hours high, when, at last, 
 I came to the barn yard stile, on which my father 
 leaned, scanning the fields anxiously. 
 
 " Well, son, I'm glad you've come," said my 
 father, " your mother is half dead with anxiety." 
 
 I showed my trophy and told my story. 
 
 " You did a foolish thing, Don, when you stole 
 the cub, but your mother need have, I think, little 
 further anxiety about you; you are as able to take 
 care of yourself as any seasoned woodsman." 
 
 The glow of pride my father's words gave me 
 changed to a feeling of remorse when I saw my
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 13 
 
 mother's blanched face and trembling hands. She 
 would not consent to let me tame the cub. " Our 
 lives were already close enough to savagery," she 
 said, " with Indians and wild beasts likely to fall 
 upon us at any moment; we do not want the sweet 
 peace of our home broken by any savage sight or 
 sound." She kept the skin, though, used it on her 
 winter rocking chair, and prized it highly. Indeed 
 I have more than once overheard her tell how she 
 came by it. 
 
 The second incident of my youth most vividly 
 stamped upon my memory happened just ten months 
 after I killed the panther. 
 
 The occasion was the last Indian raid into our 
 valley. Fortunately we had two days' warning, and 
 in that time the women and children were gathered 
 within the recently completed stockade around the 
 church, with provisions enough for a week's siege. 
 Meanwhile the men took their rifles and marched 
 to the mountain pass through which the Indians 
 were expected to enter the valley, hoping to turn the 
 savages back with a bloody lesson such as would 
 last them a while, and insure us some more years of 
 peace. 
 
 Much exalted in my own opinion by my recent ex- 
 ploit with the panther, I begged to go with the men, 
 and took it somewhat sullenly that I should be left 
 behind with the rest of the youths, under the cap- 
 taincy of the parson, to guard a church full of women 
 and children. About half an hour before sunset on 
 the second day I was descending the hill behind the 
 church to the spring, a piggin in either hand, and 
 my ever present rifle under my arm, when I saw on
 
 i 4 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 the crest of the opposite hill a file of Indians, their 
 painted bodies and feather crested heads standing 
 out against the glowing sky, as distinctly as a picture 
 on a white leaf. Back I flew to the church, with 
 the alarm hot on my lips, and found that Parson 
 Craig had assembled all within for evening 
 worship. In an instant, Bible and Psalm book laid 
 aside, the doors of the church were barricaded, 
 and we youths, each with rifle or musket loaded 
 and primed, stood close about our parson, awaiting 
 orders. 
 
 " Lads," he said, in tones that rang as they did 
 when he preached one of his famous sermons of 
 warning to sinners, and dropping in a Scotch word 
 here and there, as he was apt to when excited, " keep 
 cool and fire carefully when ye ha'e taken good aim. 
 We ha'e nae bullets to spare and each ain maun hold 
 himself responsible for half a dozen savages. Re- 
 member, lads, ye are fightin' for your maithers, your 
 sisters, your kirk an' your hames, for a' that true 
 men hauld dear, and if ye maun gie your verra lives 
 to save these dearer things count not the price, but 
 pay like brave men, and like brothers o' that dear 
 Christ wha gladly gi'ed His life a sacrifice for us a'. 
 Fear not death, my lads 'tis but the beginning of 
 life, but fear for your maithers' and your sisters' tor- 
 ture and dishonor." 
 
 Hardly had the brave pastor spoken the last word, 
 when the stockade was surrounded by whooping red 
 skins, brandishing tomahawks and war clubs, and 
 yelling to each other unintelligible words of com- 
 mand or exhortation. In another instant they were 
 flying a shower of arrows and bullets over the top
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 15 
 
 of the stockade, and several savage faces appeared 
 above the wall. 
 
 A second, third and fourth attempt to scale the 
 stockade was made. For a while, however, I could 
 render little assistance in checking our enemies from 
 without, for I was engaged in a hand to hand death 
 grapple with one of the three Indians who at the first 
 rush succeeded in getting within our enclosure. 
 Never, before or since, had I so mighty a wrestle 
 for my life, and but for my superior height, and the 
 strength of my strong arms, my reader would have 
 been spared this personal narrative. 
 
 The next half hour it seems thrice as long 
 stays in my mind as an idea of what Hell might well 
 be like. Row after row of hideous, paint streaked, 
 savage faces rose about our wall; the crack of rifles, 
 the whizz of arrows, the yell of the red demons, the 
 shrieks of the wounded, the groans of the dying, 
 mingled in a hideous clamor, and above all rose the 
 wailing of frightened children, and the moans of 
 terrified women. The one harmonious note amidst 
 this frightful discord was the ringing, cheerful tone 
 of Parson Craig's voice, as he encouraged his lads 
 between the quickly succeeding shots of his own 
 musket. 
 
 Again and again I fired my good rifle, and when- 
 ever a savage face fell backward from the top of the 
 stockade, I experienced a heart bound of fierce joy. 
 Not until there was almost complete silence about 
 us and not a living Indian in sight, did we boys cease 
 the almost mechanical action of loading and firing, 
 and turn to look about us. 
 
 The ground both within and without the enclos-
 
 1 6 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 ure, was strewn with dead and dying Indians, half 
 a score of them at least, and some of the lads were 
 carrying our own injured, six in all, into the church, 
 where tender hands waited to dress their wounds. 
 Presently I discovered clotted blood upon my sleeve, 
 and realized for the first time that a bullet had 
 pierced my leathern shirt and the flesh of my left 
 arm between shoulder and elbow. 
 
 Next day the militiamen joined us, and we learned 
 that the Indians had evaded them by seeking another 
 pass higher up the range; also that they had dev- 
 astated all the valley, except our end of it. We 
 had stopped effectually the war party detailed 
 against us, and had saved our homes and crops, as 
 well as the lives of our women and children. The 
 valley rang with praise of " the fighting lads," and 
 my father's face beamed with pride and tenderness 
 as he shook my hand. 
 
 " I shall call you boy no longer, Donald," he said; 
 " you have nobly earned your majority; my advice is 
 always at your service, sir, but no longer I give you 
 commands." I think I never had a promotion or an 
 honor that so pleasured me ; and doubtless my father 
 was shrewd enough to know that by thus expressing 
 his pride and confidence in me, he was fixing upon 
 me a sense of uplifting responsibility, as one from 
 whom only noble deeds were expected, which would 
 prove a restraint stronger than any which the most 
 respected authority could impose an obligation to 
 right and duty neither to be shirked, nor forgotten.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The mellow glow of September lay upon green 
 hills and purple mountains, sleeping in serene content 
 against a tender sky. Over quiet woods, and glid- 
 ing river, bordered with ribbons of rich meadows, 
 brooded a sweet peace, as if nature, after a busy 
 and fruitful season, took her well earned rest in 
 mood of conscious thankfulness. The very grapes, 
 hanging in heavy amber clusters below the sloping 
 roof of the low-eaved porch on which I sat, sug- 
 gested fruition and content, as if they had stored all 
 the sweetness possible within their bursting skins, 
 and now rested thankfully upon their strong stems. 
 
 I could see my father salting sheep in the meadow, 
 watered by the spring-run, below the house, and I 
 smiled as presently he sought the shade of a spread- 
 ing elm, and stretched himself full length upon the 
 ground. The droning of the bees, and the sleepy 
 humming of the flies added to the lazy influence 
 of the fondling fruit-scented breeze; I almos' nod- 
 ded over my bullet molding for a moment, then 
 roused myself and went to work. Saturday was my 
 only holiday, and I could not laze the morning away 
 unless I were content to miss my one chance during 
 the week for an afternoon in the forest. 
 
 " Good morning, nephew," spoke suddenly a 
 high, strong voice which I knew to be Aunt Martha's.
 
 1 8 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 " Spend you all your spare time polishing firearms, 
 molding bullets, and shooting animals? " 
 
 I turned in my chair, and looked up to see my 
 mother's sister, who was as unlike her as one sister 
 could be from another coming up the sidewalk, 
 and my father leading her pacing mare from the 
 stile, stable-ward. Aunt Martha's erect and well 
 formed shoulders had a square set which gave her a 
 masculine air, and she held her somewhat sharp 
 chin and nose tilted a little upward, as if she felt 
 very sure of her own convictions. Her brown hair 
 was brushed back severely from her square, high 
 brow, and her gray eyes met your gaze steadily with 
 a look that was not unkind, though it was certainly 
 not sympathetic, nor confidence inviting. 
 
 " Good morning, Aunt Martha," I answered, in 
 undisturbed, and cheerful tones for I never al- 
 lowed Aunt Martha to disconcert or overawe me, 
 as she did her own son, Thomas, and even Uncle 
 Thomas himself " I'll clear the way for you in 
 a moment," and I began to push back my chair, rifle 
 and implements from the middle of the porch. 
 
 " Your time might be better spent, nephew, in 
 my opinion," continued Aunt Martha, as she stood 
 waiting on the step, looking with stern disapproval 
 first at me, and then at the cluttered floor of the 
 porch. " Our lads, it seems to me" (Aunt Martha 
 always accented the me or the my) " are growing up 
 to be a turbulent and bloodthirsty race, with but the 
 most carnal ideas of life. Did we but serve God 
 more entirely, and trust Him more fully, we would 
 depend less upon our own strength and skill, and 
 more upon Him to defend and take care of us. And
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 19 
 
 after all what is man's puny strength against the 
 dangers of this life? It is our all powerful Heav- 
 enly Father who must save and protect us. " 
 
 u True enow, Martha, true enow," broke in the 
 voice of my grandmother, who appeared just then 
 in the front doorway, her ever busy fingers picking 
 up and knitting off the stitches from her shining 
 needles with steady click, " but God has naewhere 
 promised to do His ain work, and man's as weel. 
 He led the children o' Israel to the Promised Land, 
 and then bade them fight for a' they wanted o' it, nor 
 did they get ony more than they could win an' hauld. 
 There's yet need, plenty, for men who can shoot in 
 this colony, and likely to be for mony lang days to 
 come. Let the lad alone, Martha; he's fearless, an' 
 sometimes rash, but neither bloodthirsty nor a 
 brawler," and as my aunt stepped into my mother's 
 room, adjoining, to lay aside her bonnet, I heard my 
 grandmother add in somewhat impatient tones, 
 
 " I'm glad enow to ken ye're sae pious, Martha, 
 but dinna get to be fanatical, nor in the way o' going 
 about a' the time with reproof in your een, an' a 
 sairmon on your lips. You but cheapen our holy re- 
 ligion sae, an' harden the young an' the uncon- 
 verted." 
 
 My grandmother spoke with a rich Irish accent 
 that it is impossible to indicate, for it was not a 
 brogue, nor a dialect; it was merely a full-throated, 
 and somewhat rolling sound which she gave to cer- 
 tain words. Her language too, was freely sprinkled 
 with Scotch words, and these she pronounced with 
 broad Scotch accent. The combination was delight- 
 ful, and her blended speech added a peculiar charm
 
 20 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 to the fascinating stories she could sometimes be 
 beguiled into telling. 
 
 " It is strange doctrine, mother, that one may be 
 too pious," answered my.aunt, who certainly did not 
 number meekness among her Christian virtues. Nor 
 was my grandmother meek spirited, and a warm ar- 
 gument would likely have followed had not my 
 mother, whose sweet and placid temper was the oil 
 ready, at all times, to be poured on the threatening 
 argument, entered the back door at that moment. 
 
 With Dulce, the cook woman, to help her she had 
 been making candles all morning, in the back 
 kitchen my father having killed a fat beef but a 
 few days before and on seeing Aunt Martha's 
 horse led to the stable she had but waited to hang 
 up the last dipping, and to tidy herself before com- 
 ing in to welcome her sister. 
 
 " How do you do, Sister Martha," she began 
 cheerily, " I'm more glad than ordinarily to see you; 
 indeed I was just wishing I could send for you to 
 eat some of the suet pudding we are boiling for din- 
 ner; I know you are fond of it." 
 
 " Yes, suet pudding is a favorite dish of mine," 
 said my aunt, solemnly and with a deep sigh, " but 
 I am little in the mood to enjoy anything this morn- 
 ing, Rachael." 
 
 "And what troubles you noo, daughter?" asked 
 grandmother kindly, but with no note of anxiety in 
 her cheery voice. 
 
 " I thought you looked pestered, child," added my 
 mother in soothing tones; "take this chair, it sits 
 easier than that one, and tell us what's on your 
 mind."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 21 
 
 ' 'Tis about the letter that came yesterday to 
 Thomas," and Aunt Martha paused, to whet still 
 further her listeners' curiosity, and meantime, heaved 
 another deep sigh. 
 
 " Well, Martha, who writ the letter, an' what 
 was't writ aboot?" somewhat impatiently from 
 grandmother. 
 
 " 'T'was writ by a cousin of Thomas', in Balti- 
 more, to bring him news of his Sister Mary's death, 
 and of her husband's, Owen O'Niel, of the small pox 
 plague within three days of each other," and again 
 Aunt Martha sighed. 
 
 " But you ken but little o' Mary O'Niel, child, 
 and 'tis near fifteen years syne you ha'e seen her," 
 remarked my grandmother, a touch of impatience 
 still audible in her voice. 
 
 " They left an only daughter," continued my aunt, 
 " and made dying request that the child, Ellen, might 
 be sent to Virginia to the care of Mary's brother. 
 And now Thomas says there's naught else to do but 
 that he must start at once to bring her to our house." 
 
 "Thomas is right, Martha; there's naught else 
 to be doon ; the child canna weal come sae far 
 alone, e'en by the stages. But I see nae sic sair 
 trouble in that, though I'm nae denyin' 'twill be 
 something of a trial to you to spare Thomas for 
 four or five weeks. At the same time 'twill be a 
 welcome opportunity to get some muslins, cap laces, 
 and sic like things; and Martha, you micht hae him 
 fetch you the table and bed linens you hae wanted 
 for sae lang," and grandmother's voice sounded as 
 cheery as a bird's morning carol, while she suggested 
 these substantial compensations.
 
 22 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 " And William will be glad to come over every 
 few days, sister, to advise with Thomas, who, though 
 he's but a boy yet, is a sensible, steady lad, and can 
 see that the negroes carry out his father's direc- 
 tions." 
 
 " 'Tis not the sparing Thomas I am most troubled 
 about, Rachael, though I like not the prospect of his 
 absence, and son Thomas is in all things a child yet. 
 That which kept me awake last night was the thought 
 of having an O'Niel and a Catholic in my household. 
 'Tis bitter, indeed, after all our people have suffered 
 from that name and that religion." 
 
 " Tut, tut, Martha; you fret me," said my grand- 
 mother, almost shrilly, only shrillness was not possi- 
 ble to her rich voice. " I'd ne'er keep an old sore 
 running that I micht hae the nursing o' it. And was 
 na' the great, great grandmaither of yourself an 
 O'Niel and a Catholic? 'Tis nae fact we hae reason 
 to be greatly proud of, I weel ken, yet O'Niel is 
 nae low Irish name, nor is the Catholic religion, 
 though it be full of superstition, sae bad as some 
 folks believe. I hae known, indeed, charitable and 
 pious Catholics, and there was a time when an 
 O'Niel stood staunch friend to our family, else I mis- 
 doubt me there'd hae been nae McElroys in America 
 to-day." 
 
 " And Ellen is only a child, sister," put in my 
 mother; " we'll make a good Presbyterian of her in 
 no time." 
 
 "Ne'er by driving," said grandmother; "an 
 O'Niel was ne'er yet driven to do anything." 
 
 " She's fourteen or more, thinks Thomas, and 
 knowing the bigoted and stubborn spirit of the
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 23 
 
 O'Niels I doubt not she is set in her idolatrous re- 
 ligion by this time," sighed Aunt Martha. 
 
 " But she may be a sweet, tractable child, sister, 
 and since you've no daughter of your own, and I've 
 always been sorry you did not have Jean's such 
 a pleasure to us this Ellen'll doubtless grow up 
 to be a great comfort to you." 
 
 Getting no response to this cheerful doctrine but 
 another sigh, my mother got up, and said briskly: 
 
 " Come, Martha, I want you to see my cheeses. 
 I never made finer ones, I'm sure." 
 
 The invitation proved too tempting to resist, and 
 Aunt Martha followed mother into the back entry, 
 wearing still the look of a much burdened woman. 
 She would forget her role, presently, however, in 
 the interest of inspecting jellies, and butters, and 
 sampling the new cheeses. My mother was a fa- 
 mous housewife, and her domestic products were the 
 admiration of the neighborhood. 
 
 " Grandmother," I said, joining her as soon as 
 they were out of hearing, " who is this Ellen O'Niel 
 who is niece to Uncle Thomas? " 
 
 " Well, laddie, 'tis a tangled story, but I will e'en 
 try to unravel it for you, if you'll hold this hank of 
 yarn till I wind me a good ball." 
 
 There was nothing, save hunting, I liked so well as 
 my grandmother's stories; so I drew my chair in 
 front of her and held my arms as still as I could, 
 while she wound dexterously, and told me the origin 
 of Ellen O'Niel. 
 
 To-day I can shut my eyes and call up the picture 
 of the " big room " in the comfortable log house 
 where I was born and raised. Its walls of hewn
 
 H DONALD MCELROY 
 
 logs, brown from smoke and age, and chinked with 
 yellow plastering, were almost covered with wild 
 skins, and stag antlers; these last used as rests for 
 muskets, and powder horns. Over its small paned, 
 deep silled windows hung speckless muslin curtains; 
 upon its floor was spread a gayly striped rag carpet; 
 and the wooden rocking-chairs were made soft with 
 skins or feather cushions. The high mantel-shelf 
 was ornamented, at either end, with squat wide- 
 lipped blue pitchers, and between them two shining 
 brass candle-sticks, having trays and snuffers to 
 match. In winter these pitchers were filled with 
 dried grasses and "everlastings;" in summer with 
 flowers of the marigold, poppy, heartsease or love- 
 in-mist, and the great fireplace below with feathery 
 asparagus branches. At all times it was a homely, 
 comfortable room, but cosier perhaps on winter 
 evenings, when great logs blazed high above the 
 dogirons; when between the candles on either end 
 of the long table against the wall, sat plates of gin- 
 ger bread, and pitchers of persimmon beer; when 
 apples sputtered on the stone hearth, filling the room 
 with spicy fragrance, and roasting chestnuts popped 
 in the hot ashes. Especially were we merry on such 
 winter evenings as guests joined the hearth circle 
 around the blazing logs. Nor were they so infre- 
 quent as you may suppose, for my father, being jus- 
 tice of the county and a man of substance, kept open 
 house for travelers of all degrees, and, since they 
 brought us all our news from the outside world, they 
 were always welcome. On such evenings I was bid 
 to hurry with my lessons, that I might play a tune 
 for our guests on my fiddle for music was so rare
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 25 
 
 a treat in our settlement that even my poor, self- 
 taught efforts were appreciated. 
 
 But I am wandering, as garrulous old age is apt to 
 do, and meantime my reader waits for my grand- 
 mother's story. 
 
 " The O'Niels, lad," she began, " lang syne, were 
 a great family in Ireland, the Earls O'Niel, or the 
 Earls O'Tyrone, as they were called, being heredi- 
 tary chiefs o' a powerful clan, in the northern part 
 o' Ireland. But always they were a turbulent peo- 
 ple, an' as was the custom with mony o' the Scotch 
 an' Irish lads in those days, lived for the maist part 
 by pillaging their neighbors. Continually, too, they 
 were the leaders in Insurrection against the English 
 power, and as far back as the reign of King James 
 part o' their lands were forfeited to the croon, an' 
 were granted or sold to English an' Scotch Protes- 
 tants, with the hope that a loyal an' peaceful settle- 
 ment in the heart o' brawling Ireland micht help to 
 civilize the people, an' keep them quiet, or at warst, 
 help to subdue them. 'Twas then our ancestor came 
 to Ulster frae Scotland, though your father's people 
 not until half a century later. Our people were 
 sheep graziers an' wool manufacturers, and always 
 thrifty and prosperous. The Irish, for the maist 
 part, e'en the great lairds, were idle and shiftless, 
 and lived in a sort of squalid splendor within their 
 castles, surrounded by bands of clansmen and swarms 
 o' unpayed retainers. 
 
 " Our lands were close to the castles o' Sir Phelim 
 O'Neil, an' I hae heard my grandmaither say that 
 mony's the time my great grandmaither wad send 
 welcome gifts o' cheese, an' meat to the maither,o'
 
 26 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 Sir Phelim, when he would be absent on one of his 
 lang maraudin' expeditions. 
 
 " Twas in the year 1641, that the massacre of 
 Protestants took place, and the besotted, cruel Sir 
 Phelim was thought to be at the head of the dread- 
 ful plot. At first Protestants were only driven from 
 their homes to wander, starving an' shiverin', aboot 
 the country, refused shelter or food everywhere, till 
 mony a woman and her bairns perished from hunger 
 and exposure, and all suffered cruelly. 
 
 " Presently the killing began, an' no Protestant in 
 a' that part o' Ireland escaped save the verra few 
 who found refuge with Catholic friends. My great 
 grandmaither an' her two young children were 
 amangst those few fortunate ones, though my great 
 grandfaither was killed. She lay concealed for 
 weeks in a disused wing o' the O'Niel castle itself, 
 an' was carefully guarded, an' provided for by old 
 lady O'Niel. 
 
 " Afterwards when Cromwell an' his men marched 
 into Ulster to take revenge, my great grandmaither 
 begged successfully for the lives o' Lady O'Niel an' 
 her two grandsons. They were not, tho' I am glad 
 to say, the children o' Sir Phelim, but o' a younger 
 son, who had died before the massacre. My grand- 
 maither, when she grew up, married Owen O'Niel, 
 an' 'tis there that the one strain o' Irish cooms into 
 our bluid. But this Owen died young, an' my grand- 
 maither went back to her ain people, with naithin' 
 to show the Irish in her children, but the name an' 
 accent. My maither, Jeannie, married, as you 
 know, a full blooded Scotchman, William Irvine, an' 
 I anaither, Douglas Mcllwaine yet they tell me
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 27 
 
 the Irish accent has descended as far as me," and 
 my grandmother looked at me with a half merry, 
 half serious question in her eye. 
 
 " Just enough to make your speech roll musically, 
 grandmother. So then I am a cousin of Ellen 
 O'Niel's as well as Thomas Mitchell? " 
 
 " Yes, but verra deestant. She's a direct descend- 
 ant o' James, a brother of the Owen who was my 
 ancestor, an' who also married a Scotch lass as his 
 brother did, in spite of the law an' the custom. The 
 grandson o' James was amangst the first o' the 
 Scotch Irish settlers who came with the McElroys, 
 an' aithers to Pennsylvania in the year 1729, in the 
 good ship, George and Ann. The Mitchells came 
 a few years later, an' your Uncle Thomas' sister mar- 
 ried the youngest son o' this first emigrant, some six- 
 teen years syne." 
 
 " They moved from Pennsylvania to Baltimore? " 
 
 "Yes; James O'Niel was a shrewd man, and 
 whilst made money in the ship traffic; but when 
 Thomas was last on, he brought news that James 
 had lost his ship, and that his business was being 
 taken frae him by richer traders. Thees child Ellen 
 has nae aither heritage, I suppose, than her name, an' 
 mayhap beauty her race are a comely people." 
 
 " Poor child! " said I, " 'Tis a pity she must come 
 here." 
 
 " The purposes o' God in His providences are in- 
 scrutable, lad; but that He maun work final good out 
 o' this event you need nae meesdoot. Martha's a 
 pious woman, an' her intentions are good, though 
 without doot she is overly selfrighteous, an' has nae 
 understanding o' the feelings o' the young. But
 
 28 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 remember, my son, 'twere better to hae o'er mooch 
 religion than not enow, an' what e'er experience life 
 may bring you ne'er lose reverence, lad, for the ear- 
 nest and beautiful faith of your forefaithers. Be- 
 cause there be some who pervert its solemnity to 
 sternness do not conclude that Presbyterianism is 
 a hard and narrow faith. There be some, lad, that 
 wad make it appear so, but 'tis in their perverted 
 minds, an' not in those lofty an' consoling doctrines 
 which turn life into a joyful though toilsome pil- 
 grimage to a blissful eternity." 
 
 " Should I ever be inclined to think Presbyterian- 
 ism a cold, hard faith, grandmother," I answered, 
 " I shall but need to think of you." 
 
 " Aye, laddie, think o' your old grandmaither, an' 
 that she told you thees that during a pilgrimage o' 
 seventy-five years, an' my life has known mony 
 vicissitudes, Donald, an' mooch hardship an' dan- 
 ger nae trouble e'er came to her that her religion 
 dinna gie her strength to endure calmly, and hope- 
 fully; and nae joy that her faith dinna make the 
 sweeter an' brighter as being but a faint foretaste 
 o' that perfect an' eternal happiness to which she 
 felt assured she was journeying." 
 
 As grandmother spoke these words, there grew 
 upon her face a rapt and absent look, and her lips 
 parted in a smile of perfect satisfaction. I like to 
 remember her thus the silky bands of her white 
 hair shining beneath her soft cap, her wrinkled hands 
 crossed upon the finished ball, her alert brown eyes 
 dreamy and tender, and over all her kind, bright 
 face, that look of pure content as of faith assured, 
 and Heaven already realized.
 
 CHAPTER HI 
 
 Some weeks later the news came that Uncle 
 Thomas had returned, bringing with him the " Irish 
 lass," and a huge bundle of linens, muslins, laces, tea, 
 spices, and other goods and delicacies such as were 
 difficult to come by in our remote settlement. The 
 horses were saddled as early the next morning as 
 my mother's energetic household management per- 
 mitted, and she and grandmother, who sat her horse 
 as erectly as either of her daughters, rode across 
 the fields to my aunt's, even more eager to inspect 
 the contents of the bundles, which Uncle Thomas 
 had brought, than to see our new kinswoman. I 
 accompanied them, on foot, to lay down the fences, 
 and to watch my grandmother's horse, lest he stum- 
 ble, though I did not dare avow the last named ob- 
 ject to the dear old lady, who liked not to be treated 
 as if she were in any sense incapacitated by her age. 
 
 When Thomas and I entered the big room, after 
 stabling the horses, we could see the three women 
 in the adjoining spare room, gathered about the bed 
 which was piled so high with " feather-ticks " that 
 my little mother, standing, could not much more than 
 see the top, on which was laid out an array of fine 
 dry goods, the like of which had seldom been seen 
 in our neighborhood. 
 
 Aunt Martha, mounted upon the bed-stool, was 
 drawing to the edge of the bed piece after piece of
 
 30 DONALD McELROY 
 
 her treasures, and all were talking volubly as they 
 examined each article with eyes, fingers, tongues and 
 even noses. I smiled as the thought came into my 
 mind that Uncle Thomas had used the wisdom of a 
 serpent combined with the harmlessness of a dove, 
 according to the Bible injunction, in thus diverting 
 Aunt Martha's worrying spirit for a while from the 
 Irish lass thrown, so unwelcome, upon their chari- 
 ties. Uncle Thomas would sacrifice anything for 
 peace in his household, though he lacked not courage 
 where another than his wife was concerned. 
 
 "Where is our new cousin, Thomas?" I asked, 
 as I hung my hat upon the stag antlers near the 
 door. 
 
 " There," he said, pointing to the farthest win- 
 dow; then, after a moment's hesitation, he ap- 
 proached her and said, with shy, off-hand manner, 
 " This is another cousin, Ellen, and his name is Don- 
 ald McElroy." 
 
 The girl, who had been leaning listlessly on the 
 window sill, turned a thin pale face towards me, and 
 nodded silently. 
 
 " You must be very tired, Cousin Ellen," I said as 
 kindly as I could, moved somehow with sympathy 
 by the utter dejection of her attitude and expression. 
 
 When I spoke directly to her she looked me full in 
 the face, and I noted the singular beauty of her eyes. 
 They were large, almond-shaped, the bluest I have 
 ever seen, and rayed with minute, dark lines which 
 centered in the wide pupils. Moreover, the dark 
 lashes, which fringed thickly their white lids, curved 
 upward, and when they were lifted almost touched 
 the gracefully arched black brows. Otherwise her
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 31 
 
 face was not pretty; it was too long, too thin and too 
 pale; the nose was somewhat sharp and the lips were 
 compressed in an expression that denoted either sul- 
 lenness or restrained misery, while the black hair, 
 which had been cropped like a boy's, was stubbly and 
 unbecoming. 
 
 " I am not tired," she answered, rather scornfully; 
 " I'm very strong." 
 
 " But you are lonely," I said, " I wish we had 
 brought Jean with us." Then casting about in my 
 mind for some more available resource to offer her, 
 I asked impulsively: "Would you like to go duck 
 shooting this afternoon with Thomas and me? 
 Jean goes with me sometimes." 
 
 " I would like it, but I cannot go." 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 " My Aunt Martha says that girls should be sat- 
 isfied to keep busy within doors. I am to learn to 
 spin, and to weave, and then I'll not have time to 
 get lonesome, she says." 
 
 " Do you not know how to spin and weave, Ellen? 
 Why, even Jean can spin, and she's but thirteen," put 
 in Thomas. 
 
 " My mother did not make me do the things I 
 detested," answered Ellen with a flash of her eyes 
 toward Thomas; then to me, with some show of in- 
 terest, " Who is Jean? " 
 
 " My little sister. What do you like to do, 
 Cousin Ellen? " 
 
 " Nothing that's useful." 
 
 " Then what sort of play do you like ? " 
 
 " To shoot, to climb, to swim, to chop wood, to 
 drive sheep and to read."
 
 32 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 I opened my eyes wide, I suppose, for I never 
 heard of a girl who liked such things. " And you 
 can do these things? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes, my father taught me, and my mother said 
 I needed outdoor life to make me strong, and at 
 night my father would read to us, or else my mother 
 would teach me." 
 
 " But you may like to spin; Jean does." 
 
 " No; I shall hate everything I have to do here; 
 I would rather have died than to have come." As 
 she said this I noticed a singular quality in her voice, 
 though not until afterwards did I analyze it. There 
 was a sort of tremor in certain tones, though tremor 
 is, perhaps, too strong a word, since it was rather 
 the suggestion of a harp-like vibration. like the 
 faintest echo of a sob. 
 
 " I wish I might have died when my mother did," 
 she continued, with rising passion. " Why did God 
 leave me alone in the world with no one to lave 
 me?" and the strange child burst into a storm of 
 weeping, and ran out of the room, her face hidden 
 by her arm, her slight body shaken by sobs. 
 
 "Isn't she queer, Don?" said Thomas, while 
 Aunt Martha came from the room to inquire what 
 was the matter, followed by my mother and grand- 
 mother. 
 
 " O, 'twas Ellen," I explained, making as light of 
 the matter as possible; u she was answering our ques- 
 tions, and spoke of her mother, which started her to 
 crying." 
 
 " Poor child! " said my mother; " I do not won- 
 der she is unhappy, having so recently lost both her 
 parents."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 33 
 
 " She is by no means humbled by her afflictions, 
 nor does she seem ever to have been taught respect 
 and obedience," replied Aunt Martha. " Last night 
 I stayed in her room to see that she said her prayers, 
 and when she kneeled down she began to count the 
 beads about her neck and to kiss the crucifix hung 
 to them. I called her to me, and asked her if she 
 did not know they were idolatrous symbols, that she 
 was breaking the second commandment in using 
 them, and that she ought to pray to the unseen God 
 rather than to a wooden cross; and then I bade her 
 give me the beads that I might put it out of her 
 power to sin in that way again. But she refused 
 to give them up, said they were the last thing her 
 mother had kissed, and that her father had told her 
 to say her prayers to them every day; then she 
 grew violent and said she would part with them 
 only with her life. I took her to her Uncle Thomas 
 this morning, and urged him to remonstrate with 
 her, but she again became angry and wept and 
 stormed till Thomas bade me let the child's beads 
 alone; since they were the gift of her dead par- 
 ents, he could not see how they could do her harm, 
 even though she did attach a superstitious impor- 
 tance to them. So you see, mother, that already 
 this Irish girl is bringing trouble to my house- 
 hold, as I was forewarned she would. Last night 
 was the first time I have ever heard Thomas say a 
 word in favor of idolatry, and not for months has 
 he spoken to me so sternly." 
 
 " But, Martha, you dinna use due discretion with 
 the child," said my grandmother; " couldna you hae 
 waited till she hae gotten used to her new surround-
 
 34 DONALD McELROY 
 
 ings, an' her grief for her parents had some abated, 
 afore you began to abuse her religion? You will 
 soon hae the child set in stubborn defiance, at this 
 rate; hae na' I told you that ne'er yet micht an O'Niel 
 be driven that they wad be easier led to hell, than 
 driven to heaven? " 
 
 " Such language sounds irreverent to me, mother," 
 Aunt Martha replied, with her most pious air, " and 
 if that is the character of the O'Niels they must be 
 a stiff necked people. In my opinion anyone should 
 be grateful to be driven in the right way. But, be 
 that as it may, I cannot risk the effect of an idola- 
 trous example upon my own children, even could I 
 bring myself to tolerate such practices in my house. 
 If Ellen persists in saying prayers to her beads she 
 must do so without my knowledge or consent, and I 
 shall consider it my duty to speak out against such 
 practices whenever the opportunity is afforded." 
 
 " Well, Martha, you maun need take your ain 
 way, and reap the fruit of it," said my grandmother, 
 in her sharpest tone; and my mother as usual rushed 
 in with soothing words, diverting the conversation 
 into smoother channels, by further laudation of the 
 beauty of the table linens they were already begin- 
 ning to hem. 
 
 Ellen did not come into dinner, and no one ap- 
 peared to notice her absence, though Uncle Thomas 
 watched the door, I thought. After dinner I took 
 my rifle on my shoulder, and went down to the cane- 
 brake where I hoped to find a flock of wild ducks. 
 Thomas had been sent by his father with more seed 
 to the fields, where the men were sowing wheat, so 
 could not go with me. I went by the dining room,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 35 
 
 and found platters of wheaten bread, and spice cake 
 still on the side table with which I filled my pockets, 
 for my appetite would be as hearty as ever in three 
 hours, and I might need bait for the ducks. 
 
 My way lay under a sycamore tree, on the edge 
 of the creek behind the barn, and as I stooped to 
 pass beneath a low bough, something jumped from 
 a branch just before me. I raised my head quickly, 
 and saw the child, Ellen, standing in the path. 
 
 " May I go hunting with you, now?" she said, 
 eagerly. " You asked me this morning, so I 
 brought my bonnet, and I have been watching for 
 you." 
 
 " But you've had no dinner." 
 
 " I'm not hungry, and I can't eat when she looks 
 at me." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " The one I must call Aunt Martha; do you like 
 her?" 
 
 " Well, I never thought about it, much, but I don't 
 believe I am as fond of her as I ought to be." 
 
 " Ought to be, why ? " 
 
 " She is my real blood aunt, you know my 
 mother's sister." 
 
 " That's nothing. She's hateful, just as much as 
 if she weren't this morning she stole my crucifix 
 I left it on my dresser, and it's gone. O, I know 
 she stole it ! " 
 
 " Don't let's talk about that now," I said, " but sit 
 down here and have lunch together. I'm hungry 
 still, though I've had my dinner." This was not 
 strictly true, but I managed to eat enough to keep 
 her at it till I thought she was satisfied, and then I
 
 36 DONALD McELROY 
 
 bade her follow me, and not to let me walk too fast 
 for her. 
 
 She scouted the idea, saying: " My father was 
 tall, like you, and walked fast always, and he never 
 had to wait for me." 
 
 She kept up without seeming to try, and helped 
 me to pile brush for a blind on the edge of the brake, 
 keeping as still as possible when we were hidden be- 
 hind it. 
 
 A flock rose presently, and flew straight over our 
 heads toward the river. I took aim, brought down 
 one, then loaded quickly, and hit a second, as the 
 flock circled, calling noisily to each other. 
 
 Ellen ran fleetly into the marshy grass, and 
 brought both of the dead ducks to me. 
 
 " I wish you had two rifles with you," she said, her 
 eyes shining with excitement. " I might be loading 
 one, while you shoot the other." 
 
 I smiled at her enthusiasm. " The next flock that 
 rises is yours," I said, " I want to see how well you 
 can aim." 
 
 In less than half an hour we again heard a whir- 
 ring in the brake, and this time the flock flew low, 
 and between us and the river, affording Ellen a fine 
 chance. She waited with a coolness that surprised 
 me, then took careful aim and shot the leader. 
 
 " Well done! " I said, seizing the gun to reload, 
 and getting it ready to pick off one of the scattered 
 flock before they could all get back into the brake. 
 
 By the time the light began to fail we had six 
 ducks, two of which Ellen had killed. Already we 
 were good friends, and the child looked so happy, as 
 she tripped lightly beside me, that I could not be-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 37 
 
 lieve that she would ever again seem to me sullen 
 and forbidding as she had that morning. 
 
 " It's a pity you're a girl, Ellen," with the patron- 
 izing air of a youth of nineteen. 
 
 "I wish I were a boy!" with a profound sigh; 
 " I'd live in the woods, and eat roots, berries, and 
 game; I'd never have to weave and spin for my 
 keep, then. Why must I wear skirts and live in 
 the house just because I'm a girl, Cousin Donald? " 
 
 " I'm not sure I can give a better answer than 
 the one Aunt Martha would likely make you. God 
 fixed it that way. He meant women for the home, 
 and men for the fields and for war. There's one 
 good thing, maybe, about being a girl that is, 
 some persons might think it a compensation, you 
 will never have to fight, or go to war." 
 
 " I think fighting would be fine, a heap more fun 
 than staying at home and hearing about it. Don't 
 women ever go to war? " 
 
 " Of course not, child, though in this valley they 
 have more than once helped to fight Indians." 
 
 " I do wish I were a boy," she repeated, " or I'd 
 like better still to be a splendid, big man like you." 
 
 This flattery, whether intentional or not, had its 
 effect upon me, and I constituted myself Ellen's 
 champion from that moment. When we reached 
 the house I marched boldly in with her to Aunt Mar- 
 tha, and after announcing that I had taken the child 
 to the river to pick up ducks for me, made Aunt 
 Martha a peace offering of half of them. 
 
 453986
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 My father had destined me for a lawyer, there 
 being at that time need for one in our valley a 
 fact which sounds strangely now, when knights of 
 quill and ink horn are everywhere so numerous. An 
 accumulation of legal lore requiring, as was then 
 thought, the deep laid foundation of a thorough 
 classical education, I was sent, after old David Ram- 
 sey had imparted to me such measure of his learn- 
 ing as his failing powers permitted, to the Augusta 
 Academy, to continue my Greek and Latin, while at 
 the same time I read Coke and Blackstone, and 
 practiced on legal forms. 
 
 We had just begun a second session of eleven 
 months, and I flattered myself I was making some 
 progress in comprehending the great underlying prin- 
 ciples of law, as well as in unlearning certain faults 
 of pronunciation and scanning acquired under old 
 David, when my studies encountered a sudden inter- 
 ruption in an event whose influence upon my after 
 life was of sufficient importance to justify me in 
 briefly recording it. 
 
 The class room that August afternoon was hot and 
 buzzing, and most of the lads in the Greek class 
 awaited the coming of the master with a sort of 
 drowsy impatience, while a few bent their eyes upon 
 well thumbed books, and read the coming lesson over 
 greedily, hoping to make up for previous neglect by
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 39 
 
 diligent use of an unexpected respite. When the 
 master did come, he had an absent and very serious 
 look upon his face, and he heard us recite with sur- 
 prising indifference to mistakes. We knew intui- 
 tively that he held something in waiting, to tell us as 
 soon as the lesson should be over, and a subdued in- 
 ward excitement quickly counteracted our drowsi- 
 ness. 
 
 After the last line had been recited, he got on his 
 feet, his tall gaunt figure, stern mouth and Roman 
 nose more impressive than usual, and told us, as 
 quietly as if he were announcing the next day's les- 
 son, that news had been received of a confederated 
 rising of the Indians in the Ohio Valley, and that 
 Colonel Lewis had been ordered to call out the 
 militia, to enlist volunteers, and to march to the 
 frontier to meet the savages. He, the master, being 
 a militia man, was in duty bound to go, and as it was 
 but two days to the one set for the mustering, he 
 would not meet his class again until his return if 
 it should be God's will to spare his life and liberty, 
 and allow him to come back to more peaceful pur- 
 suits. Meantime, he hoped we would not neglect 
 our studies, or grow careless of our duty to our par- 
 ents, and our country. That duty, at present, was 
 to train our minds by constant exercise, and to fill 
 our brains with varied knowledge, that we might be- 
 come useful and honored citizens in a commonwealth, 
 standing upon the threshold of a future which prom- 
 ised to be one of glorious and continued progress. 
 Then he bade us good-by feelingly, and left us, each 
 one envying him his chance of adventure and danger, 
 and each sheepishly conscious of tears in his eyes.
 
 40 DONALD McELROY 
 
 A moment later I made a sudden but resolute de- 
 cision, and having put my books, desk, and other 
 school belongings in the care of a fellow student, 
 struck out across the fields, and walked the twelve 
 miles to the home stile by sunset. 
 
 " Father," I said, before he had time to express 
 astonishment, " I am going with Colonel Lewis to 
 whip the Indians." 
 
 The day after the next, my father accompanied 
 me to the mustering, and gave full consent to my 
 enlistment for the campaign. 
 
 The long march we made through an almost 
 trackless wilderness, and the effectual check we gave 
 Cornstalk and his warriors, are, now, facts of his- 
 tory, and since they in no way serve to help on my 
 story, I must resist the temptation to dwell upon 
 our brief campaign. I cannot even stop to point 
 out convincingly the far reaching and most impor- 
 tant consequences to the cause growing out of this 
 victory. But this much of a digression must be for- 
 given me though my story halts while I say it. 
 
 Had not the strength and confidence of the Shaw- 
 nees, and the tribes confederated with them, been 
 shaken at Point Pleasant, and the prestige and influ- 
 ence of the brave and capable Cornstalk destroyed, 
 the Indians would, doubtless months before, have 
 made impossible that intrepid defiance of Washing- 
 ton, the memory of which we Scotch Irish cherish 
 with so much pride : that he would never surren- 
 der but if driven to bay would make a last stand in 
 the mountain fastnesses of Augusta; and, rallying to 
 his aid those brave pioneers, yet bid defiance to the 
 enemy and hope to pluck victory from apparent de-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 41 
 
 feat. Nor, had there been no battle of Point Pleas- 
 ant, would a dauntless rifle company have been 
 available for service under the gallant Morgan, to 
 march to Quebec, to win the decisive battle at Free- 
 man Farm, and the telling victories of King's Moun- 
 tain and of Cowpens. 
 
 Returned from the Ohio, I went back to my books, 
 but I could not settle down contentedly to Latin odes 
 and Greek classics. The excitement of the march, 
 the battle, and the victory, had aroused within me a 
 sleeping aptitude for the life of a soldier, and I 
 chafed at the prospect of a safe and uneventful 
 career. 
 
 At Christmas I had two weeks' holiday, and what 
 time I was not tracking game in the snow, was spent 
 breaking the colts to the cutter, or coasting on a 
 plank down the steepest hills to be found, with Jean 
 and Ellen O'Niel behind me. My grandmother, 
 who did not share the universal disapproval of the 
 Irish child's " defiant spirit," had persuaded my 
 mother to have Ellen over to spend the holidays 
 with Jean, using the adroit argument, with both my 
 mother and Aunt Martha, that Jean's gentle and 
 tractable spirit might have a good influence over the 
 untamed Ellen. She had come, but not very gra- 
 ciously, and sat silent among us, for the first day and 
 evening, looking sullen and unhappy. 
 
 Few could resist, however, the contagion of our 
 kindly home atmosphere, and by the second morn- 
 ing, Ellen had melted sufficiently to smile at grand- 
 mother's quaint jokes and stories of Ireland. By 
 dinner time she was ready to listen with interest to
 
 42 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 some of my father's pioneer experiences, and that 
 night when mother bade me give her a relation of 
 my fight with the panther, she listened with flushed 
 cheeks and shining eyes. We were by this time 
 drawn in the usual family circle about the glowing 
 fireplace, from which roasting apples and chestnuts 
 were sending forth a rich odor. Mother sat in her 
 special corner, her head resting against the panther's 
 skin, and father sat beside her, grandmother oppo- 
 site, and I near her on the settle, while Jean nestled 
 close to me. Thomas, who occupied the other end 
 of the settle, wore a radiant face, for he enjoyed 
 the absence of restraint which he found nowhere but 
 with us, and all the sullen reserve was gone from 
 Ellen's countenance. 
 
 Presently Ellen, who so far had deigned only to 
 answer us, began to talk. At first she barely asked 
 a question into which interest or surprise had be- 
 trayed her, or made an occasional impulsive remark. 
 But, as her reserve melted in the genial and sympa- 
 thetic atmosphere, the sluice gates of pent up mem- 
 ories seemed suddenly to open, and she talked freely, 
 relating anecdotes and reminiscences of her child- 
 hood, and showing a depth and warmth of emo- 
 tion which surprised us. These led her on to re- 
 peat some of the stories her father had read or told 
 to her. They were chiefly tales from Shakespeare's 
 " Tempest," " Winter's Tale," " Hamlet," and oth- 
 ers of the more fantastical and tragic of these 
 dramas. None of her listeners had read them, then, 
 though I had heard of Shakespeare, the great Eng- 
 lish playwright. We were all charmed, as much, 
 perhaps, by the flashing expressions of intelligence
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 43 
 
 and feeling which transformed Ellen's face into one 
 almost of beauty, as by the stories themselves. 
 Moreover that emotional quality of her voice, so 
 prone to subtle vibrations, added a special charm to 
 all she said. 
 
 " Now, Donald," said my father, when Ellen 
 seemed to have spent her present memories, and 
 had lapsed into her usual quiet, " get your fiddle, and 
 let's have a tune." 
 
 Jean ran at once to bring my violin, and I did 
 my best to add my share of entertainment to the 
 evening's innocent pleasures. 
 
 " Ellen can sing sweeter than a lark, or a red 
 bird," said Thomas, as I paused to rest my arm. 
 
 " Can she? " from Jean with eager delight. " I 
 do love singing; sing for us, Ellen." 
 
 " I can sing only the Irish and Scotch ballads, and 
 the Catholic hymns my mother used to sing," an- 
 swered Ellen, flushing. " I do not know the solemn 
 songs you people sing, and I shall never learn them " 
 the last said in a defiant tone which the occasion 
 scarcely called for. 
 
 " Our psalms are vera sweet an' sacred to us, my 
 dear," remarked my grandmother, with no apparent 
 recognition of the challenge in Ellen's voice, yet 
 choosing her words with a precision that was evi- 
 dence of slight displeasure, " but we like aither sangs 
 too, an' sing them except on the Sabbath. I love the 
 Scotch and Irish ballads, an' though you hae already 
 done your share aboot making the evening go by 
 pleasantly for us a', we'd greatly like a sang or twa, 
 if ye dinna mind to pleasure us further." 
 
 " It's a delight to please you, grandma," said
 
 44 DONALD McELROY 
 
 Ellen impulsively, and she rose from her chair, 
 slipped behind the settle and dropped upon the floor 
 beside grandmother, kissing as she did so, one of the 
 soft, wrinkled hands folded in her lap. Then, rest- 
 ing her head against grandmother's knee, she fixed 
 her eyes upon the dancing flames, and began to sing 
 somewhat unsteadily, but with more fullness and con- 
 fidence, as she continued. Her voice did indeed 
 soar and swell like a redbird's, and she threw all 
 her heart into her singing, while the quaint words 
 of the old ballads slipped meltingly from her lips, as 
 drops of dew from the petals of a flower. 
 
 " Why, my dear, I hae na' been up sae late for 
 years," remarked grandmother, in a tone of alarm 
 as the clock struck midnight; then stroking Ellen's 
 hair, which was growing out in loose curls, " You 
 g'ie us mouch pleasure, dear, but it's bedtime now, 
 for a'. Come, Jean and Ellen! Good night a', 
 and a merry Christmas to you." 
 
 Not only were cider and persimmon beer drawn 
 from the full barrels in the cellar, but a big bowl 
 of apple toddy was concocted early Christmas morn- 
 ing, and flanked by plates of doughnuts, and ginger 
 bread, raisin and spiced cake, apples, and nuts, sat 
 upon the long table in the big room, all day, every 
 one being free to eat and drink his fill. This cus- 
 tom of my father, which usually drew to our house 
 most of the men within a ten mile ride, always scan- 
 dalized my Aunt Martha, and but for Uncle 
 Thomas' backing we would never have gotten Ellen 
 and Thomas to our house until after Christmas 
 day. Uncle Thomas himself always came, however, 
 and on this occasion Aunt Martha broke her rule and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 45 
 
 came with him, bringing too their younger son, John. 
 
 I observed a change come over Ellen's face as 
 soon as Aunt Martha appeared in the doorway; she 
 seemed to draw within herself, and her face took on 
 the sullen expression which so marred its comeliness, 
 and presently when I looked about for her, she was 
 nowhere to be found. 
 
 " Ah, Rachael," said Aunt Martha, glancing to- 
 ward the laden table between the two southern win- 
 dows, and shaking her head in solemn disapproval, 
 " I see you have not yet been able to persuade Wil- 
 liam of the sinfulness of this habit of his, of offering 
 the intoxicating cup to all comers, at this season. 
 Strange perversion, that this holy Christ festival 
 should be turned into an occasion for gluttony and 
 rioting." 
 
 " William has his own ideas, Martha, and I do 
 not set mine against him," I heard my mother an- 
 swer, from the doorway, as she followed my aunt 
 into the bedroom. "The neighbor gentlemen will 
 all be in presently, and a warming cup will be needed 
 by those who do not stay to dinner." 
 
 " You are too meek with William, Rachael, and 
 so fail of due influence. Wifely obedience is com- 
 manded in the Bible, it is true, but I do not think 
 the sacrifice of our principles is required." 
 
 " Preaching still, eh, Martha " called my 
 father's cheery voice from the big room, having 
 come in to put another log upon the roaring pile; 
 " well, you'll have to stop now, for I see Justices Mc- 
 Dowell and Willson riding up, and, as you know, 
 we like not solemn faces in this house on Christmas 
 day," and he hurried out again to meet his guests,
 
 4 6 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 before Aunt Martha was sufficiently recovered 
 from her indignant surprise to make him proper 
 answer. 
 
 The ensuing hour brought a dozen others, the 
 most substantial freeholders in the community, 
 nearly all of them members of the church, as well 
 as men of influence in public affairs. A few drank 
 only cider or beer, but most of them quaffed full 
 cups of the spiced, apple-seasoned toddy with evi- 
 dent appreciation, and ate the cakes, apples and nuts 
 without stint. 
 
 I sat about the fire with the men, proud of my 
 privilege, but mother and Aunt Martha, after cere- 
 monious greetings were exchanged, retired, as was 
 customary for women when several men were met 
 together. The talk was animated, and at times ex- 
 citing, though there was but small difference of opin- 
 ion among them. The Boston massacre, and recent 
 unjust restrictions upon our commerce, were indig- 
 nantly condemned, and the determined spirit of the 
 colonists of Massachusetts warmly commended. 
 Presently it was proposed by Justice Willson, and 
 warmly seconded by my father, that the citizens of 
 Augusta County, or a committee elected by them, 
 should draw up resolutions to be sent to the Virginia 
 assembly, expressing with no uncertain sound their 
 fixed determination not to submit to tyranny, and to 
 sustain Massachusetts in her noble stand against in- 
 justice and oppression at every hazard. In truth 
 the leaders of the New England " Town Meeting," 
 could not have shown more fervor nor more deter- 
 mination than these representative men of this Scotch 
 Irish settlement in the Virginia mountains. The dis-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 47 
 
 cussion was unabated still, and not a man had sug- 
 gested returning home, when my mother announced 
 dinner. The table had been lengthened to its ut- 
 most, by raising all its " wings " and putting the side 
 tables at either end; but there was still no seat for 
 me, so I wandered into my mother's room, and then 
 across the yard to the kitchen to look for Jean and 
 Ellen. Jean, and John Mitchell I found, eating 
 turkey livers, gravy and potatoes before the embers, 
 over which hung the now idle cranes, and Thomas 
 was mending John's sled at the work bench in the 
 back kitchen. But Ellen was not to be found, and no 
 one had seen her for two hours. Returning to the 
 house, I mounted the steps to the room under the 
 gable, where grandma and Jean slept, and there 
 found Ellen, wrapped in a blanket, and lying prone 
 on the floor in the stream of sunshine pouring 
 through the western window. Her chin was sup- 
 ported by her hands and an open book lay before 
 her. 
 
 " Are you hiding from Aunt Martha, Ellen? " I 
 asked teasingly. 
 
 " I slipped away while she was helping your 
 mother set table," she answered, " and stole up here 
 to read. I don't often get a chance; your Aunt 
 Martha keeps me at work from sun up till dark, and 
 then sends me to bed. She says it is a wicked waste 
 of time to read anything but one's Bible and the 
 holy father in Baltimore told me that the way Prot- 
 estants presumed to read the sacred book, and deter- 
 mine for themselves its sacred meaning is blasphe- 
 mous." 
 
 " What book are you reading? " I asked.
 
 48 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " One of the Shakespeare books my father gave 
 me. I have six more like it," and she held up to my 
 view a small leather bound volume, a good deal the 
 worse for wear. " I slipped it into my satchel when 
 Aunt Martha sent me up stairs to get my things, 
 the morning you came for us, but please don't tell 
 her, Cousin Donald she said she'd take the books 
 away from me if she saw me reading them again, 
 for they were not fit reading for me, and I had no 
 time to waste on them." 
 
 " How did she know they were not fit reading for 
 you? " I asked, curious to learn if Aunt Martha had 
 stopped work long enough to examine a book. 
 
 " She made Uncle Thomas read some out of one 
 of the volumes to her," answered Ellen, smiling in 
 response to my thought. "And she said, at break- 
 fast table next morning, that a great deal of it had 
 neither sense nor meaning, and the part she could 
 understand was about fighting and killing, or else 
 foolish love stuff all of it unfit for any young 
 person to hear. She wanted to burn my books, as 
 she did my crucifix, but I ran and hid them, and cried 
 so, all day, that Uncle Thomas said 'Let the child's 
 books alone, Martha; her father gave them to her; 
 if they harm her it's no fault of yours.' " 
 
 " Is the reading as good as your telling of the 
 stories, Ellen?" 
 
 " Oh, so much nicer. There are beautiful things 
 I could never say; listen," and she read me a passage 
 from " Romeo and Juliet." " Isn't that like music? 
 The very words have a tune to them without think- 
 ing of the meaning even." 
 
 " Could you lend me the book to read while you
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 49 
 
 are here, Ellen? or to-morrow, if you will, we'll come 
 up here and you shall read aloud to me." 
 
 " But your mother and father might find out, and 
 tell Aunt Martha." 
 
 " We need not conceal our reading from them; 
 they will make no objection if I tell them the book 
 is harmless and I suppose it is, even for girls. I 
 know it is a famous book and counted among the 
 English classics. I've always meant to read it some 
 day." 
 
 " And I'll lend you the other volumes, one by 
 one, if you'll take me bear hunting the next time 
 you find a track," added Ellen. 
 
 " That's a bargain, if my mother will let you go. 
 How old are you, Ellen? " 
 
 " I shall be sixteen my next birthday." 
 
 " And when is that? " 
 
 " Next November." 
 
 " Then you are just fifteen." 
 
 " Fifteen and two months," she corrected. 
 
 " That is young for you to have read Shakes- 
 peare, and to be capable of appreciating him. Your 
 father taught you so carefully, and read to you so 
 much because he had no sons, I suppose." 
 
 " Perhaps; he used often to wish I were a boy. 
 He used to say I was so strong, and tall, and had 
 more sense than most women; and when he was 
 taken sick, after mother's death, he said every few 
 hours ' Oh if you were only a boy, Ellen, I would 
 not mind so much leaving you alone in the world; 
 you could soon be independent then, and make your 
 own way ! ' ' 
 
 " 'Tis a pity, Ellen; you'd make a good man, I'm
 
 50 DONALD McELROY 
 
 sure. You are as strong now as a boy of your age 
 is likely to be, and half a head taller than John who 
 is but six months younger." 
 
 " I dared John to a wrestle, one day in the barn, 
 and threw him," laughed Ellen, " but I promised not 
 to tell, and you must not twit him about it." 
 
 "All right, I won't; but were I John I'd keep 
 on challenging you till I had proved my superior 
 strength; no girl should throw me! Does Aunt 
 Martha know? " 
 
 " Of course not, Donald. Already she calls me a 
 hoyden, and an untamed Irish girl which I am, the 
 last I mean, and proud of it. Did she hear of my 
 wrestling with John, the bread and water she threat- 
 ens me with would be my only diet for a week." 
 
 " You'll not have bread and water diet while you 
 are here, at any rate. But there's my mother call- 
 ing now; my mouth waters for her Christmas din- 
 ner, for there's no better served in the neighborhood 
 to-day, I warrant you. Come on; let's go down," 
 and I put the little book in my pocket, seized Ellen 
 by the hand and pulled her after me, pell-mell down 
 the stairway where we ran straight into Aunt Mar- 
 tha. 
 
 " Ellen O'Niel ! " she stopped to say, fixing a stern 
 eye upon her " you are the greatest hoyden I have 
 ever seen. I thank a merciful Providence you are 
 not my daughter." 
 
 " Amen, and so do I," said Ellen, in my ear, and 
 as Aunt Martha passed into the next room, she 
 turned toward me, and pulled her face down into 
 the most comical imitation of Aunt Martha's solemn 
 countenance. I laughed heartily, though in truth I
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 51 
 
 did not approve of Ellen's flippancy. Reverence for 
 religion and respect for our elders were among the 
 virtues earliest and most faithfully instilled into the 
 breasts of Scotch Irish children.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 " Two of the pigs are gone, and I see fresh bear's 
 tracks behind the barn, Ellen. If you want to go 
 after the beast with Thomas and me, put on your 
 heaviest boots, get a rifle from the rack, and come 
 on," and I spoke with a degree of animation which 
 turned upon me the gaze of the entire family, as- 
 sembled at the breakfast table. I was not then so 
 sated a huntsman that the prospect of big game 
 could fail to excite me. 
 
 " Why, Donald, you are not thinking of taking 
 Ellen bear hunting with you? " 
 
 "And why not, mother? She wishes to go, she 
 handles a rifle well enough, and there's no danger 
 with three guns against one poor bear." 
 
 "Oh, Aunt Rachael, please let me go; I have 
 never seen a bear, and it must be beautiful in the 
 forest to-day." 
 
 " Might as well let her go, mother," put in my 
 father; " the boys will take care of her, and it will 
 be an experience she will like to tell when she is an 
 old woman. Besides, it is well enough for her to 
 learn courage and coolness in facing danger the 
 women in this valley may need such qualities in the 
 future, as they have in the past." 
 
 " I can't see why you care to go," said little Jean, 
 shuddering involuntarily, her brown eyes fixed in 
 amazement upon Ellen's eager countenance.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 53 
 
 " May I go, Aunt Rachael? " urged Ellen. 
 
 " Well, child, I suppose so, since your heart seems 
 set upon it. Do be careful, Donald, and get back 
 before sundown." 
 
 We followed the print of the bear's feet across 
 the meadow behind the barn, and then around the 
 curve of a low range of hills to the edge of the for- 
 est, walking Indian file, Ellen between us, and step- 
 ping, as I bade her, in my tracks. The air was so 
 crisp and buoyant that we were half intoxicated by 
 long, full breaths of it, and went skimming over the 
 frozen surface as if, like fabled Mercury, we had 
 wings to our heels. The meadows gleamed and 
 scintillated, and the edge of the hill's undulating 
 outline shone in opalescent lines, as if the prying 
 rays of the sun, forcing their way through the thin 
 snow clouds at the eastern horizon, were disclosing^ 
 a ledge of hidden jewels. The world all about us 
 was downy soft, radiantly pure, and familiar fields 
 and hills took on a strange newness, in which per- 
 spective was confused and outlines blurred; white 
 fields melted into white hills, hills merged into white 
 sky, and one might, it seemed, walk out of this world 
 into the next without noting the point of transition. 
 
 The forest was stranger still, and even more beau- 
 tiful. There was but little snow on the ground, and 
 the dry leaves under it rustled beneath one's feet 
 with homely, cheerful sound, but overhead stretched 
 a marvelous canopy of graceful feather laden 
 branches, each giant of the forest being powdered as 
 carefully as any court dame, and, like her, gaining 
 a sort of distinction for its beauty by this emphasis 
 to its height and grace.
 
 54 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " Am I walking too fast for you, Ellen? " I asked 
 soon after we had started. 
 
 " No; but you step too far," she called back mer- 
 rily. So I shortened my stride a little, and again 
 insisted on carrying her rifle, getting this time her 
 consent. 
 
 " The forest is like a place enchanted," said Ellen 
 with rapt face, as we waited at the edge of the 
 woods for Thomas to catch up. " How warm and 
 snug one could sleep under that low boughed pine, 
 yonder; I'd like to live in the forest were there no 
 panthers, wolves, or bears." 
 
 " But the beasts have possession, and sometimes 
 I almost wonder if we have a right to drive them 
 with gun and knife out of their inherited haunts." 
 
 " As we do the Indians." 
 
 " I have more sympathy for wild beasts than for 
 the red savages; the beasts are not treacherous, nor 
 cruel for sport." 
 
 "Have you lost the bear's track, Don?" inter- 
 rupted Thomas; "if not, what are you stopping 
 for?" 
 
 " We are admiring the forest but I have kept 
 my eye on the track, all right. There it goes off to 
 the left; we'll find him, I suspect, fast asleep in some 
 hollow log." 
 
 My surmise was correct, for the track led us to 
 a large fallen tree a mile within the forest. The 
 bear, having gorged himself on the pigs, was curled 
 within for a good nap. 
 
 " We'll have to smoke him out," said Thomas, 
 beginning to look about for dried leaves and twigs. 
 We piled them into the smaller end of the log, and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 55 
 
 then lit them with our tinder-boxes, after which we 
 stood about the larger opening and waited watch- 
 fully. 
 
 " You shall have the first shot, Ellen," I said. 
 " Stand a little to one side, and aim either at his 
 throat, or behind one of his ears." 
 
 The bear could not stand long the stifling smoke 
 of the pungent leaves, and with a muffled roar, in- 
 terrupted by a wheezing cough, he backed awk- 
 wardly out of the tree, then turned to look about 
 him for an avenue of escape. But his captors, with 
 ready rifles, stood in close range around him, and 
 behind him burned the log, its murky smoke and 
 lapping blaze limning weirdly the beast's shaggy 
 bulk, against the white forest. 
 
 " Shoot, Ellen ! " I called, for she stood as if 
 spellbound, her eyes fixed upon the crouching, 
 growling animal. She pulled her trigger then, but 
 with nerveless fingers, and her ball whizzed just 
 above the bear's head, cutting off one-half of his 
 right ear. With a roar of pain the furious animal 
 was upon her, the weight of his huge body throwing 
 her down, and half burying her in the snow. For 
 an instant my brain rocked with horror; I dared not 
 shoot, for I could not distinguish Ellen's form from 
 the bear's in the cloud of flying snow which sur- 
 rounded them, and every instant I feared to hear 
 a cry of agony, and the crunching of Ellen's skull 
 between the creature's iron jaws. 
 
 "I must risk it," I swiftly concluded; and with 
 quick intake of my breath, I raised my rifle to my 
 shoulder, stepped back a pace, and took the aim of 
 my life. Providence guided the ball, which severed
 
 56 DONALD McELROY 
 
 the beast's spinal column just at the base of his 
 brain. In another instant I was dragging his shud- 
 dering bulk from Ellen's body, lest he crush her in 
 the death struggle. 
 
 Ellen was as pallid as the snow she lay upon, and 
 as motionless. Her long lashes made a light 
 shadow on the waxen cheeks, and the dark ringlets 
 dropping over the brow were like charcoal by con- 
 trast with its marble. When I lifted her head upon 
 my arm, I saw a ragged wound upon her neck, just 
 behind her right ear, and from it ran trickling a 
 crimson rill, down the soft throat to the still bosom. 
 Her clothes were torn from her right shoulder, and 
 there the flesh showed marks of the animal's teeth 
 in the midst of an ugly bruise. 
 
 Thomas had dropped white and limp upon a log, 
 and, great boy as he was, began to cry. 
 
 " She's dead, Don, she's dead! Oh, why did we 
 let her come what shall we do ? " 
 
 " Hush," I said angrily; "she's not dead, only 
 stunned, I hope," and I gathered handfuls of snow, 
 which I rubbed gently upon her forehead and cheek, 
 and then forced between her lips a few drops of gin 
 from my pocket flask. Seeing that she swallowed 
 the gin mechanically, I poured a good spoonful upon 
 her tongue, and chafed her hands vigorously till 
 she opened her eyes and recognized the faces bend- 
 ing over her. 
 
 "Where's the bear, Donald?" she asked, as 
 quietly as if she had just wakened from a vivid 
 dream. 
 
 " Dead," I answered cheerfully; " you shall have 
 the skin for a rug."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 57 
 
 " But I didn't kill him," in disappointed tones. 
 " I got frightened and aimed badly I'd never do 
 for a man, after all." 
 
 " You'd make a better man than Thomas; he be- 
 gan to cry as soon as he saw you were hurt, and 
 you haven't yet complained of the scratches the bear 
 gave you." 
 
 " They sting some," she said with a grimace, put- 
 ting her hand to her wound, and sliding it down to 
 her shoulder. " Why, Donald, my clothes are 
 torn," and a faint flush tinged her cheeks, while she 
 tried to sit up and to pull her shredded garment to- 
 gether. 
 
 " The bear bit you there; it is well mother made 
 you put on this buckskin jacket over your pelisse. 
 Does the place hurt you much? " and I knelt beside 
 her to examine her shoulder more carefully. 
 
 " It aches, while the hurt on my neck smarts," 
 and she flushed again, and shrank from the touch of 
 my fingers on her bare flesh. 
 
 And I, too, was suddenly embarrassed, while a 
 new thrill went through me. " The shoulder bone 
 is not crushed," I said, after a careful examination 
 which gave Ellen some pain, " nor is the wound very 
 deep; doubtless, though, it will hurt a good deal, 
 besides making your shoulder stiff and helpless for 
 a while. We must bandage the wound somehow, 
 till we can get home, and we must find a way to 
 exclude the cold air from it." 
 
 Thomas, who had sat by, flushed and silent since 
 I had chidden him for blubbering, picked up the 
 torn jacket I had stripped from Ellen's shoulders, 
 and disappeared behind the tree. Presently he came
 
 58 DONALD McELROY 
 
 back with his own flannel shirt and a bunch of linen 
 strips across his arm, himself reclad in the torn 
 jacket, which had been pinned together, after some 
 sort, with small thorns. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Thomas," I said, grasping 
 his hand as I took the bandages from it. 
 
 " 'Twas the sight of her so white and still," re- 
 plied Thomas, looking yet mortified and hurt. 
 
 u Thank you, dear Thomas," said Ellen, smiling 
 upon him; "your tears were only symptoms of a 
 tender heart. I'm glad you were sorry for me; 
 Donald did not care enough to cry." 
 
 Now that was very unkind of Ellen, for I had 
 been sick with fright and apprehension for her, and 
 would have rather been torn in pieces by the beast, 
 myself, than to have carried home in my arms that 
 still, white form. But I made no response to Ellen's 
 accusation; I only set my lips, and plastered and 
 bandaged her wounds as best I could. 
 
 Our homeward journey was very unlike the cheer- 
 ful tramp of the morning, for Ellen tottered as she 
 walked, and I had need to support her with my arm, 
 while Thomas carried the guns and powder-horns. 
 The snow no longer gleamed and sparkled, for the 
 afternoon light was hazy and dull, and the sky a 
 cold, smeary gray. Forest, field and hill were but 
 the component parts of a commonplace winter land- 
 scape, and bear hunting something else than a glo- 
 rious adventure through an enchanted forest. 
 
 And I was not the same, nor Ellen. She was 
 become all at once a woman, shy, reserved, conscious 
 of my touch, leaning on my arm no more than neces- 
 sity required. And I, though half vexed at the
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 59 
 
 change in her, and grieved that I had lost so con- 
 genial a comrade for I knew intuitively that our 
 intercourse would never again be so unrestrained 
 nevertheless found her more interesting, more allur- 
 ing because of this very change which put a distance 
 between us, and which had in it a touch of mystery: 
 as the forest had been that morning the fairer, 
 for that unnameable magic with which nature veils 
 herself in her stiller haunts.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 The conversation around our Yule fire, to which 
 I had listened with such eager absorption, had caused 
 my budding convictions to bloom in an hour into 
 fully expanded principles. I had caught the fever 
 of patriotism running like an epidemic through the 
 land. Were not we of Scotch Irish race and Pres- 
 byterian faith pledged already to the cause since the 
 first blood shed for American liberty was the blood 
 of the Scotch Irish Presbyterians, spilled at the bat- 
 tle of Alamance, when the stern North Carolina 
 " Regulators " had risen, like Cromwell's " Iron- 
 sides," against the tyranny of their royal governor? 
 The " Boston Tea Party," therefore, found quickest 
 sympathy among the Scotch Irish of the Southern 
 and Middle States, and the earliest and grimmest of 
 the resolutions sent up to the several assemblies, 
 urging that Massachusetts be sustained, and kingly 
 tyranny determinedly resisted, came from the towns 
 and counties settled by these people. " Freedom or 
 death " was the consuming sentiment in the hearts 
 of many Scotch Irish Americans for months before 
 the typical orator of that race thrilled a continent 
 by speaking those immortal words, " Give me lib- 
 erty, or give me death." 
 
 The first call issued by Congress for troops named 
 seven rifle companies to be recruited in Pennsylvania,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 61 
 
 Maryland and Virginia. Again I put aside my 
 books, only this time I gave them to a fellow student 
 who sorely needed them, and went home to tell my 
 father that I meant to enlist. I recall as vividly as 
 'twere yesterday that calm spring afternoon when 
 I took the short cut across flower spangled meadows, 
 and bosky, sweet scented woods to the humble home 
 which had given me a youth so rich in love and hap- 
 piness, but which I was so soon to leave for priva- 
 tions, dangers, and temptations such as had not yet 
 entered into my imagination. 
 
 It was the year of my majority, and I was already 
 mature in physical development. Even in our neigh- 
 borhood of " brawny Scotchmen " I was called tall, 
 measuring six feet three inches in my moccasins, and 
 though somewhat spare, was broad of shoulder, long 
 of limb, muscular, agile, and deep winded; more- 
 over, I could ride and shoot with the best man in 
 the valley. More proud was I, at this time, of my 
 strength, and the keen sight of my gray eyes, than 
 of my brown, curling hair, and the general comeli- 
 ness of my appearance, in which my mother took 
 such pride. A few months later I was to have my 
 hour of vanity, and to eat the fruit of it. 
 
 Few men, I imagine, can separate their lives 
 sharply into boyhood and manhood, but mine I can. 
 That last Christmas holiday of my schooldays 
 marked the line of division, and I took the first step 
 across it the day I saved Ellen from the bear's fangs, 
 and the second the hour I formed the resolution to 
 shoulder my rifle for American liberty. My father, 
 it is true, had chosen to treat me as a man, since the 
 Indian raid, but from the hour I made up my mind
 
 62 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 to enlist I put aside childish things, and bore myself 
 with a consciousness of manhood's power. 
 
 A stranger sat on our porch who, hearing me an- 
 nounce impetuously to my father, as he came to the 
 top of the porch steps to meet me, that " I meant to 
 enlist in one of the rifle companies," sprang up from 
 his chair, seized my hand, shook it heartily, and said 
 with a genial smile, and cordial tone that made my 
 spirit go out to him at a leap, 
 
 "You're a lad after my own heart, sir! Are 
 there many more like you in this valley? How old 
 is your son, Justice McElroy? " 
 
 " Not long past twenty, sir. Donald, this is Cap- 
 tain Morgan, the renowned Indian fighter of whom 
 you have so often heard. He is in the neighbor- 
 hood to enlist men for his rifle company, so you have 
 not far to go to fulfill your purpose." 
 
 I looked now, you may be sure, with fresh interest 
 at the powerful but graceful figure before me. He 
 was nearly as tall as I, but broader and heavier; his 
 tanned, handsome face was marred by a scar on the 
 right cheek, and I noted even in this first hasty 
 scrutiny an indication of stubborn will in the set of 
 his lips, and a dare devil gleam in his fine eyes that 
 would make one hesitate to pick a quarrel with him. 
 
 " I have found my captain," I thought, my pulse 
 throbbing joyously, just as he spoke again, with that 
 ring of cheerful courage in his voice which I was to 
 learn to know so well, and so often to be inspired by. 
 
 " That we shall win admits no doubt if I can en- 
 list a company of muscular young giants like you. 
 Can you shoot, lad? "
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 63 
 
 " Aye, that he can," laughed my father, well 
 pleased, I could see, by Captain Morgan's manner 
 toward me. " Cut off a squirrel's head at a distance 
 of three hundred yards. And there are other 
 marksmen in our valley that can fully equal him, 
 though few as tall as my son Donald," and he laid 
 a caressing hand upon my shoulder. 
 
 " You shall be one of my sergeants, lad," con- 
 tinued Captain Morgan, seizing my hand again, 
 " and to-morrow you must ride with me to enlist as 
 many like you as this neighborhood affords." 
 
 " Unfortunately, Captain Morgan," said my fa- 
 ther, " some of those who would like nothing better 
 than the opportunity to strike a blow for our rights, 
 dare not leave their families and homes here un- 
 protected, subject as we are to the raids of the sav- 
 ages from across the mountain. Enough able- 
 bodied men must be left in the valley to turn back 
 Indian forays, though, since our victory over them 
 at Point Pleasant, our danger is not near so great. 
 Still a score or more recruits may be hadMn this 
 neighborhood, I doubt not." 
 
 " May I ask, Captain Morgan, whither we are 
 to march after our quota has been recruited?" I 
 questioned. 
 
 " Straight to Boston, where we will have a chance 
 to drill." 
 
 " And to fight also, I hope." 
 
 "Amen, lad, say I to that! and may there be 
 other of your brave spirit. I like not this dallying, 
 this parleying with the stubborn king, who but de- 
 ludes us with promises while he gains time to equip 
 and to land his troops upon our shores. And I am
 
 6 4 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 beginning to think that this talk of our Congress 
 that we take up arms as loyal subjects of England, 
 to force from the crown redress of our grievances, 
 goes not far enough. Only a democracy where all 
 are free and equal, and where the stakes are worth 
 the risks and privations to be endured, is suited to 
 the genius of this vast and virgin continent. Under 
 no other form of government may she be rightly 
 developed." 
 
 " Nor are you alone, sir, in that opinion," replied 
 my father. " None other is held in this valley, as 
 the memorial sent up to the assembly by the county 
 committee of Augusta in February last can testify. 
 Were the Scotch Irish settlers of this country con- 
 sulted, Captain Morgan, our declaration of inde- 
 pendence would be speedily proclaimed; Patrick 
 Henry's burning words but voice the sentiment of 
 his race." 
 
 " The timid and the half-hearted may not yet be 
 safely set in opposition, perhaps," answered Captain 
 Morgan, " and Congress is beset with many diffi- 
 culties. But 'tis for the independence of the Ameri- 
 can States I have drawn my sword " and as he 
 spoke he sprang suddenly to his feet, straightened 
 his imposing figure and keyed his voice to a clarion 
 pitch " nor will I sheathe it again, save death or 
 bodily infirmities intervene, till the glorious cause of 
 America's liberty has been won till we are a free, 
 self-governing people ! " 
 
 " I take that oath with you, sir," said I, springing 
 also to my feet. 
 
 Then my father, looking up at us from his arm 
 chair, unwiped tears upon his cheeks, said, in deep,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 65 
 
 reverent tone: "God grant us victory, and make 
 this goodly land the home of freedom a refuge 
 for the oppressed of all nations ! " 
 
 We found no trouble in enlisting men enough in 
 our valley to complete the company Captain Morgan 
 was to command, and in three weeks I was ready to 
 march the Augusta boys to Frederick County, where 
 we were to join our captain and the rest of the men. 
 The twenty-two boys from our end of the valley 
 bivouacked all night in our yard, that we might get 
 an early start the next morning; and that evening 
 the neighbors came from far and near to give us 
 farewell, and a blessing. Uncle Thomas and his 
 family came with the rest, Aunt Martha helping to 
 cook the hot supper which my mother insisted on 
 serving the lads under the trees, that their home- 
 filled haversacks might be saved for the march. 
 
 Thomas wandered about among the men, lying in 
 groups upon the grass in the shade of the oaks and 
 elms, with a look of distress upon his face that sur- 
 prised me. At last he called me to one side, and 
 said with trembling lips, 
 
 " Don, I'd give the next ten years of my life to 
 go with you." 
 
 " You are too young, Thomas. Why, you are 
 not nineteen yet." 
 
 " There are four boys in the squad no older than 
 I, and I am strong, and a fair shot." 
 
 " Then enlist; it's not too late yet, and the more 
 the merrier." 
 
 " But my mother made me give her a solemn 
 promise that I would not. She wishes me to be a
 
 66 DONALD McELROY 
 
 minister, and once I thought I was called, but now 
 I believe I was mistaken. I couldn't be so wild to 
 go to the war if I had received a call from heaven 
 to the ministry; but mother says it will kill her if 
 I turn soldier, after she has solemnly consecrated 
 me to the Lord. Oh, Donald, what must I do? " 
 
 u I cannot advise you to disobey your mother, 
 Thomas," I answered, u but I am sorry for you." 
 
 " Ellen says my life is my own, to live as I please, 
 and that not even my mother has a right to dictate 
 to me whether I shall be preacher or soldier," sighed 
 Thomas. 
 
 Now I half agreed with Ellen, but the doctrine 
 seemed an irreverent one to a youth of Scotch Irish 
 raising, so I only repeated, " I think you had best 
 obey your mother, Tom," which afforded him small 
 consolation. He answered me with a suppressed 
 groan, and presently went back to the soldiers. 
 
 Hot and tired from the day's labors, I decided, 
 after supper, to cool myself by a last drink of my 
 mother's delicious buttermilk. The footpath to the 
 spring wound its careless way down a grassy slope 
 starred with dandelions, and dusted with milky ways 
 of daisies and pale bluets. Apple, pear, and peach 
 trees grew in the angles of the worm fence which 
 separated the garden from the meadow, and they 
 were so full of bloom that they looked like masses 
 of pink and white clouds drifted down to earth. 
 There was a crab apple tree among them, and its 
 elusive fragrance came and went upon the zephyrs 
 which swayed the dandelions and rustled the blos- 
 soms upon the trees. The world about my feet was 
 as fair and full of mystic charm as the moon-glori-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 67 
 
 fied, star-spangled heaven. The talk, the work, the 
 plans which had filled the last weeks of my life, 
 seemed out of tune with God's purposes, as revealed 
 in nature out of keeping with His beneficent plans 
 for all His handiwork. 
 
 Pondering this strange anomaly, of the tendency 
 of God's creatures to make war continually upon 
 each other, in the midst of a world so fair, so benefi- 
 cent, and so peaceful the solemn mystery of death 
 always treading close upon the heels of life of 
 the desolation always threatening beauty, I passed 
 the springhouse before I knew it, and found myself 
 at the foot of the hill, where the spring breaks forth 
 to fall into a natural basin overhung by a broad, 
 jutting rock. As I raised my eyes to this rock, a 
 vision greeted me which startled me into an instant's 
 consciousness of superstitious terror. Did I see a 
 ghost at last after all my jeering unbelief? Was 
 that slim shape, wrapped in a white robe standing 
 so motionless on the white rock, the spirit of some 
 Indian maiden, seeking again the haunts where in life 
 she had met her lover? 
 
 Of course not; it was only Ellen, for now I saw 
 a hand lifted, to push back the wind blowsed curls 
 from her forehead. Softly I climbed the hill behind 
 her, and stood at her side, but so rapt was she in 
 her own thoughts, she did not hear me till I spoke. 
 
 " What are you looking at, Ellen? " I asked. 
 
 Had I not thrown my arm quickly about her, she 
 would have sprung from the rock in her startled 
 surprise, yet she did not scream, but regained her 
 poise in an instant, disengaged herself from my arm, 
 and answered me calmly
 
 68 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " At the moon, Cousin Donald." 
 
 " 'Tis only a round, bright ball, Ellen; why gaze 
 at it so long and fixedly? " 
 
 " 'Tis more than a silver ball when one looks at 
 it so. It grows bigger and deeper, and within there 
 are mountains and caverns, and seas and plains; 
 mayhap there are people there who suffer and think 
 as we do. Would you not like to have great wings, 
 Cousin Donald, and fly and fly through the soft blue 
 air, till you reached the moon? " 
 
 " Such fancies have never come into my mind, 
 Ellen. You must have clear eyes, and a vivid imag- 
 ination," and I smiled down upon her, not a little 
 amused by her fanciful conceits. 
 
 " If I did not I should die; " then, turning hotly 
 upon me, " How would you like to walk back and 
 forth, back and forth along a bare floor, with bare 
 garret walls about you, whirring a great, ugly wheel, 
 and twisting coarse, ill-smelling wool all day long, 
 day after day? One dare not think, for then one 
 gets careless and breaks or knots the thread, and 
 yet to keep one's mind upon so dreary, and so mo- 
 notonous a task is maddening. Do you wonder I 
 run away, and talk with the flower-fairies, or the 
 stars, whenever I get the chance? " 
 
 " No, Ellen, I don't. I have often thought that 
 women's tasks must be very wearisome, the endless 
 spinning, weaving, and knitting. I wonder they 
 have patience for such work." 
 
 " I wish I might go to the war with you, Cousin 
 Donald." 
 
 " You could never stand the hardships." 
 
 " But I think I could. I'd love to sleep out of
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 69 
 
 doors, under the winking stars, and the friendly 
 moon; I'd love to walk through trackless forests, 
 across wide, unknown plains, and to come now and 
 then upon some town or settlement where every one 
 would feast and praise the patriots." 
 
 " But what of the cold, hunger and fatigue? of 
 wounds and capture and the sights and sounds after 
 a battle? It tries even the souls of brave, strong 
 men to bear such things." 
 
 " The soul of a woman might endure as much, 
 and I think I should mind even those things less than 
 eternal spinning, Cousin Donald." 
 
 I laughed now. " You are not yet a woman, 
 Ellen, and you are not doomed, I trust, to eternal 
 spinning. When I come back from the war we'll go 
 hunting every day, even though we will have to run 
 off from Aunt Martha." 
 
 " I shall not have a friend left except grand- 
 ma." 
 
 " And Thomas." 
 
 " Thomas likes me, yes, but he is too much afraid 
 of his mother to help me have my way. When you 
 come back you may not find me here." 
 
 " Of course I shall; and remember, Ellen, we are 
 always to be good friends and comrades," and I held 
 out my hand to her. 
 
 "Good friends and comrades," repeated Ellen; 
 " I shall remind you one day when you come home 
 famous, and dignified if I am able to endure life 
 with Aunt Martha so long as that," and she put her 
 hand in mine in the old way of confident comrade- 
 ship which had gone out of our intercourse for 
 months. Hand in hand we went back to the house,
 
 70 DONALD McELROY 
 
 talking intimately, she of her thoughts and feelings, 
 I of my plans and hopes. 
 
 Before sun-up the next morning we were on the 
 march. I had left Jean weeping bitterly on grand- 
 mother's shoulder, and I doubt not the dear old lady 
 wept, too, when I was out of sight. My mother 
 stood in the doorway, shading her brave, loving eyes 
 with her hand, that I might not see fall the tears 
 glittering on their lashes. Father walked beside me 
 at the head of my little troop for a mile, and, before 
 he left me, took me in his arms in sight of them all, 
 straining me for an instant to his breast, and pouring 
 out a patriarch's blessing upon my bowed head. 
 
 Our valley looked very fair that day, as we 
 marched northward across it. The rank wheat 
 rolled in billows of rich green, the springing corn 
 showed narrow gray green blades, which moved 
 gently to and fro above the loamy uplands, and the 
 forests, which enclosed the cleared lands on all sides, 
 were fresh robed in verdure of many hues. Edging 
 the forest like a jeweled braid grew masses of red- 
 bud, dogwood and hawthorn in full blossom, and 
 singing along its sparkling way, the river wound in 
 and out of velvety meadows with deep curves and 
 bold sweeps of bountiful intent, embracing as much 
 as possible of this fair land that it might scatter 
 widely its fertilizing influences. 
 
 " Boys," I said, pausing on an eminence from 
 which we could see all our end of the valley, and 
 pointing outward, as I stopped to take a long, last 
 look, " is it not a land worth fighting for? " 
 
 "Aye, aye, sergeant! " came in hearty chorus.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 71 
 
 " Then fight for it we will, like brave men and 
 true, nor look backward again till freedom be won." 
 
 "Aye, that we will ! " again in deep, full accord, 
 and when all had taken a lingering look, I gave the 
 command 
 
 " Right about face ! Forward! " 
 
 Without a backward glance, we tramped onward, 
 our faces forever toward the enemies of freedom.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Under Morgan we marched to Boston, and a long 
 and weary tramp it seemed, though in comparison 
 with later ones, I learned to look back upon it as a 
 pleasant summer's journey. Our uniforms, pat- 
 terned after Morgan's habitual dress, consisted of 
 buckskin breeches, leggins and moccasins, a flannel 
 shirt, over which we usually wore an unbleached 
 linen hunting shirt, confined with a leathern belt at 
 the waist, and a huntsman's cap on the band of 
 which was inscribed, " Liberty or Death." From 
 each man's belt hung a knife, a tomahawk, and a 
 bullet pouch, and each rifleman carried in his pockets 
 a bullet mold, and a bar of lead; across one shoul- 
 der passed the strap from which hung his powder- 
 horn, and over the other he carried his rifle with its 
 whittled ramrod of hickory wood. 
 
 Our uniforms, our size, and our marksmanship 
 won for us immediate notoriety and consideration, 
 and not many days were we permitted to be idle, 
 though it was but comparative idleness we enjoyed, 
 even in camp, since we were drilled two hours each 
 morning and afternoon, and did our share of guard 
 duty in the trenches around Boston. In our leisure 
 hours we taught the Yankees to chew tobacco, and 
 to mold bullets, and learned in return to rant elo- 
 quently upon liberty and natural rights in the Ian-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 73 
 
 guage of Samuel Adams, and John Hancock, and to 
 eat beans baked with hog middling. 
 
 Early in September we were ordered to join Colo- 
 nel Arnold's command for a raid into Canada. In 
 addition to our arms, ammunition, and blankets we 
 must take turns at carrying the light canoes necessary 
 for a part of our journey, and many miles of our 
 way lay through the tangled undergrowth of dense 
 forests, or across the treacherous slime of trackless 
 bogs. It was not long before many of the men were 
 bare footed, half naked, and weak from insufficient 
 food; for our rifles were soon our dependence for 
 rations, and game grew scarce as we proceeded 
 northward. Several of the companies ate their sled 
 dogs with relish. Morgan's men fared better than 
 the rest, for it was our rule to share equally what- 
 ever game we killed, and we were sure to get a large 
 proportion of all there was to be found. More- 
 over, our clothes, being of leather, stood the wear of 
 the march better than the uniforms of the rest, and 
 many of us could make rude moccasins of wolf or 
 dog skins. 
 
 After two months of toils and privations such as 
 I wonder now we were able to endure, we reached 
 Quebec with but seven hundred of the thousand men 
 with whom we had started from Boston. In re- 
 sponse to Arnold's daring summons to fight or sur- 
 render, the garrison shut the city's gates in our faces, 
 and we were compelled to lie in our trenches, and 
 wait for General Montgomery's reinforcements. 
 On the last day of December, 1775, in the midst of 
 a blinding snow storm, we attacked Quebec. Gen- 
 eral Montgomery soon received the bullet that ended
 
 74 DONALD McELROY 
 
 his career, and Colonel Arnold was wounded shortly 
 after. But for these two untoward misfortunes, I 
 truly believe we had won the day, and over all Can- 
 ada and all British America would now be waving 
 the Stars and Stripes. Be that as it may, we rifle- 
 men came very near to taking Quebec alone and 
 unsupported, for Morgan took the battery opposed 
 to him, and penetrated to the very center of the 
 town. Meanwhile, General Montgomery's troops, 
 broken and disorganized for lack of a leader, and 
 Arnold's, in like case, were falling back; our op- 
 ponents were left free to concentrate their forces 
 upon us, so that, after a fierce resistance, we were 
 completely surrounded, outnumbered, and compelled 
 to surrender. 
 
 We lay in prison at Quebec for nine long months, 
 treated with as much kindness as is usually accorded 
 to prisoners of war, but chafing like wild animals in 
 a cage. Captain Morgan told me of the offer, made 
 to him by one of the garrison officers, that he should 
 be made a colonel in the British army, if he would 
 but desert " a doomed and hopeless cause," and of 
 the hot reply he made. 
 
 " Sir, I scorn your proposition, and I trust that 
 you will never again insult me in my present dis- 
 tressed and unfortunate condition, by making me an 
 offer which plainly implies that you consider me a 
 scoundrel." 
 
 At last we were discharged, Captain Morgan on 
 parole, and were carried in transports to New York. 
 I saw Morgan as he stepped off the boat, in the 
 brilliant light of a harvest moon, stoop and kiss the 
 soil, and heard him whisper in a sort of ecstasy,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 75 
 
 " My country, my country ! " My own heart 
 swelled within me, and I could have done likewise 
 with full meaning. 
 
 Great things, of which we had heard but vague 
 rumors, had happened in our absence. Boston had 
 been evacuated by the enemy, the attack on Fort 
 Moultrie had failed, and the Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence had been declared by all the thirteen States. 
 On the other hand, General Washington had been 
 compelled to yield New York to Howe, and to fall 
 back to New Jersey, and England was making ready 
 to send army after army across the ocean to conquer 
 her rebellious colonies. 
 
 Though my term of enlistment had already ex- 
 pired, I could not go home in the midst of such 
 stirring events, so I made haste to Morristown, there 
 reenlisted, and was put to service as special courier 
 to General Washington. And now, for the first 
 time, I saw the man to whom all patriotic hearts 
 turned with hope and pride. His soldierly, dignified 
 bearing, the look of resolute, yet not arrogant self- 
 consciousness upon his face, his courteous manner, 
 and the perfectly controlled tone of voice in which 
 he issued a command, or uttered a rebuke, impressed 
 me with a confidence that made me from that hour 
 sure of our cause. " With such leaders as Washing- 
 ton, Arnold and Morgan," I thought, with fervid 
 enthusiasm and pride, " how can we fail to win? " 
 
 Not many weeks later my beloved captain, who 
 had been exchanged, and made a colonel by act of 
 Congress, marched into our camp with one hundred 
 and eight recruits, most of them from the valley, at
 
 76 DONALD McELROY 
 
 his back. I could hardly wait till he had reported 
 at headquarters before I sought him. 
 
 ' 'Tis my old comrade, Donald McElroy ! " he 
 said, scarcely less moved than I. " Have you been 
 on duty all this time, lad, with no furlough, no rest? 
 Ah, many's the time I've told Arnold, that with ten 
 thousand such troops as my Scotch Irish riflemen, 
 I'd undertake to whip all the armies that could be 
 sent to these shores." 
 
 " I believe you could do it, Colonel," answered I, 
 " but your health, sir ? Are you quite strong 
 again? " 
 
 " Never better, lad; even my rheumatism is gone. 
 I've been home, you know, for five months, and have 
 had nothing but coddling from that good wife of 
 mine. Six months more of it, and I'd have been 
 unfitted for further service to my country. My lad, 
 you should marry how old are you, sir? " 
 
 " In my twenty-third year, Colonel, but as yet I 
 have had no time to look for a wife," and I blushed 
 like a lass. 
 
 u There's yet time enough, without doubt, but a 
 man needs a wife to keep him from mischief espe- 
 cially a soldier. I was but a half tamed animal till 
 Abigail took me in training; ever since I have lived 
 the life of a gentleman, I hope, and been as happy 
 as a lord. You deserve a good wife, Donald, and 
 I shall help you to find one, sir." 
 
 Despite the embarrassment which such personal 
 interest caused me, I was greatly pleased to be so 
 noticed by my colonel, and when, a few days later, 
 he sent for me to tell me that he had named me as 
 one of the captains who were to command the eight
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 77 
 
 companies of which his regiment would be composed, 
 I was filled with such joy and pride as I have since 
 experienced but once and then upon a very differ- 
 ent occasion. 
 
 " Donald, lad," said Colonel Morgan, standing 
 at the door of my tent on an April morning, when 
 the sweet scents and cheerful sounds of early spring 
 had started a longing in my heart for a look at our 
 valley, " I've a secret for your ear, and an expedi- 
 tion to propose to you." 
 
 " Come in, Colonel," said I, smiling with pleasure 
 of his visit, and offering my one chair ; " I'll be proud 
 to know the secret, and I promise to keep it well." 
 
 " We are shortly to be ordered North to join 
 General Gates, who is to check the advance of Gen- 
 eral Burgoyne upon New York, if possible, and we'll 
 see active service, and mayhap a big battle or two, 
 at last. Meantime I'm riding home on ten days' 
 furlough, to say good-by to Abigail, and would you 
 ride with me, I'll grant you leave to go." 
 
 " Your invitation is an honor I much appreciate, 
 Colonel, and it will give me pleasure to go." 
 
 " Then be ready, by sun up." 
 
 It was about ten o'clock at night, and our horses 
 were stiff jointed, and without spirit, after three 
 days' hard traveling, when we rode through the 
 double gates that opened into the driveway circling 
 the lawn of " Soldier's Rest " Colonel Morgan's 
 home in Frederick County. The spacious brick 
 house with its columned porch was in darkness, save 
 for one brightly lighted room on the left, and a 
 single candle burning in the hall. Colonel Mor- 
 gan's spurs and sword clanked noisily on the bare
 
 78 DONALD McELROY 
 
 floor of the hallway, and he called to me, in hearty 
 tones, " Come on, lad! we'll find Abigail in the red 
 room." As he spoke the door flew open, warmth 
 and light streamed forth to meet us, and also the 
 sweet tones of a woman's voice in eager greeting. 
 
 " Well, Dan'l ! what good fortune brought you 
 back so soon? Oh, but it is good to see your dear 
 face again ! " I hung back in the shadow, with a 
 lump in my throat, while Mrs. Morgan laid her head 
 on her husband's breast, and was for a moment 
 clasped in his arms. 
 
 " Captain McElroy is with me, Abigail," said the 
 Colonel. " Where are you, Donald? " 
 
 " Here, Colonel," said I, stepping into the light. 
 
 " It is a pleasure to welcome you to our home, 
 Captain McElroy," in Mrs. Morgan's kind tones. 
 " I've heard the Colonel speak of you, and of your 
 family; walk in, and be resting while I have supper 
 served; you are both hungry and tired, I am sure." 
 
 " That we are, Abigail," and the Colonel set me 
 the example of divesting himself of muddy leggins, 
 spurs, and top coat " The smell of your coffee 
 and fried ham has been in my nostrils for two hours 
 past. Donald, she's the best housekeeper in the 
 Old Dominion," and he smiled proudly upon the 
 round, comely, beaming little woman, who, as I soon 
 discovered, deserved all his praise, for she was equal 
 to my own mother as housewife. 
 
 As I followed Mrs. Morgan into the living room, 
 which was brightly lighted by half a dozen candles 
 in brass candlesticks with crystal pendants, and a 
 pile of roaring logs upon the hearth, I realized sud- 
 denly the presence of a very pretty young woman
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 79 
 
 sitting beside a candle stand, on one side of the 
 fire place, with a piece of needle work in her hands. 
 She looked up as we entered, then dropped her eyes 
 again to her work. 
 
 " Colonel Morgan, this is my cousin, Nelly Bu- 
 ford, and this is Captain McElroy, Nelly." 
 
 The young lady rose, dropped me a graceful 
 courtesy, then turned and held out her hand to 
 Colonel Morgan. 
 
 " You do not remember me, Cousin Daniel, but 
 I well recall you, and the day you came to our house 
 to see Cousin Abigail. I had heard of you as a 
 famous Indian fighter, and I peeped at you through 
 the half open door, expecting to see a string of scalps 
 around your waist." 
 
 " I had no eyes nor ears then for any woman save 
 Abigail," replied Colonel Morgan, shaking her hand 
 in his hearty fashion, " but I'll never forget your 
 pretty face again, Cousin Nelly be sure of that." 
 
 She laughed merrily, and her ease of manner in- 
 dicated that she was as much used to pretty speeches 
 as she deserved them. There was a witchery in her 
 laughing hazel eyes, in the curves of her saucy, full 
 lipped mouth, in the very tendrils of blonde hair 
 which looped and ringed in riotous fashion about 
 the small pink ears, and low, white brow, which few 
 men tried to resist. Before we retired that night, 
 I was completely fascinated. I lay wide awake in 
 spite of my weariness until past midnight, recalling 
 each curve of her pretty, piquant face, each modula- 
 tion of her cooing voice; and then I set over against 
 her many charms my own awkwardness, the boorish- 
 ness of my manners, and my ignorance of everything
 
 8o DONALD McELROY 
 
 except camp life and public topics. I longed ar- 
 dently for that polish of manner, and that faculty 
 of polite conversation I had heretofore esteemed so 
 lightly. 
 
 There were no girls in our neighborhood near my 
 own age, and I had known scarcely any other women 
 besides those of our own family, and the matrons 
 of our church congregation. I had grown up, there- 
 fore, like a maiden, with no temptations, and small 
 knowledge of passion, and later my mind had been 
 so fully occupied with hunting, studying, Indians, 
 and public matters, that all the vanities and snares 
 of youth had passed me by. But nature is not easily 
 starved into subserviency, and upon the first oppor- 
 tunity takes vengeance for former neglect by more 
 violent and unreasoning possession. 
 
 So madly in love was I with Nelly Buford before 
 another sunset that all my past was forgotten, and 
 all my future weighed as naught. I cared for noth- 
 ing, wished for nothing but to be with her; had no 
 dream or ambition beyond pleasing her. I blushed 
 when she spoke to me, trembled if her hand or her 
 dress touched me, and could scarcely refrain from 
 kissing the handkerchief she now and then let fall, 
 and which I restored to her with a sense of proud 
 privilege. I scarcely heard the remarks of Mrs. 
 and Colonel Morgan, but every word Nelly spoke 
 was registered in my mind and conned over and over 
 like a lesson. When they left me alone with her, as 
 they often did for they were daily going about the 
 place together, to take counsel as to its management 
 during the Colonel's absence I experienced a sort 
 of ecstasy which made my blood surge through my
 
 'I LAID THE FLORAL WREATH CAREFULLY UPON THE BRIGHT CURL:-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 81 
 
 brains, and my heart flutter as if I were frightened. 
 
 Nor was Miss Nelly slow to perceive my infatua- 
 tion, or so little woman as to fail to take pleasure 
 in it. I think she beguiled me, indeed, with an au- 
 dacity she would not have dared to use toward a 
 youth more worldly wise, or more experienced in the 
 emotions of the heart. I recall one instance which 
 will illustrate the coquetry which she practiced for 
 my deeper ensnaring. We were walking through 
 the orchard flush with bloom, when she stopped be- 
 neath a low boughed apple tree, and asked me to 
 pluck a spray for her, then twisted it into a wreath, 
 and laughingly bade me crown her queen of May. 
 I took the wreath from her fingers, and would have 
 dropped it awkwardly upon her blonde curls almost 
 two feet below me, but she stopped me with a merry 
 laugh, and said in playful tones, 
 
 " How stupid you are ! The queen must be en- 
 throned before she is crowned. Help me to a seat 
 upon this curving limb, and then I'll be just high 
 enough for you to lay the crown upon my sacred 
 head, with due reverence and solemnity." 
 
 I lifted her to the bough she indicated, and when 
 she had settled herself gracefully, and said with 
 pretty affectation of dignity, " Now, Sir Knight, the 
 Queen awaits your service," I laid the floral wreath 
 carefully upon the bright curls, and would have 
 stepped back to admire its effect, only something in 
 the eyes that met mine, and the perfume breathing 
 lips, which were on a level with my own, made my 
 head reel, the blood surge in my ears, and many 
 colored motes float between me and the canopy of 
 blossom bending over us. In another instant I had
 
 82 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 kissed her full upon the lips, and then emboldened 
 by their touch, I threw my arms about her, and kissed 
 her again and again, upon brow, cheek, eyes and 
 lips, paying no heed to her commands, and only de- 
 sisting when she began tearfully to entreat me. 
 
 No sooner was the madness passed than I was 
 deeply penitent, and begged her forgiveness so hum- 
 bly that Nelly gracefully consented to pardon me, on 
 condition that all should be between us as if the 
 incident had never occurred. My promise was 
 easier given than fulfilled, however, for the memory 
 of those kisses lingered with me for years, and came 
 near to my undoing. Yet I never again entirely lost 
 self-control, and all fear of consequences in a wom- 
 an's presence. The realization of the strength of 
 this heretofore unknown force of my nature sobered 
 me and put me on my guard against myself, in future. 
 
 Even Colonel Morgan saw presently my infatua- 
 tion, and tried to warn me. " Nelly is a pretty lass, 
 and bewitching enough, in all conscience," he said to 
 me, one morning as we rode over the place together, 
 " but I fear, lad, she's a sad coquette, and moreover 
 she's an ardent Tory. It was not she I meant to 
 pick out for a wife for you, indeed I did not know 
 we should find her here." 
 
 " A Tory? Is she not your wife's cousin? " 
 
 " Aye, lad, 'tis only in our valley that all men are 
 patriots. Nelly is a cousin to my wife, and the fam- 
 ilies have always been intimate; but the Bufords live 
 in Philadelphia, are well to do, and strong Tories. 
 The stringent orders of General Washington against 
 English sympathizers compelled Nelly's brother to 
 join the British army and Nelly to take refuge with
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 83 
 
 us her mother having gone to New York to nurse 
 a sister who is ill." 
 
 Colonel Morgan's warning came too late, how- 
 ever, even if I had been inclined to mix politics with 
 love, or to think that the fact of a woman's opinion 
 being adverse to my own made her any the less lov- 
 able. Age and experience are needed to teach a 
 man that congeniality of mind and temperament 
 count more for happiness in the marriage relation 
 than the sparkle of a bright eye, or the enchanting 
 curve of a rosy mouth. But I was disappointed, and 
 ventured that afternoon to sound the depths of my 
 charmer's disloyalty. 
 
 " Colonel Morgan tells me that you are a Tory, 
 Miss Nelly." 
 
 "Yes, and why not?" 
 
 " I cannot understand how an American citizen 
 can take sides with the oppressors of our country." 
 
 " That is such stuff as Colonel Morgan and all 
 you self-styled patriots talk saying nothing of the 
 ingratitude of turning against our mother land that 
 has lavished her treasures and the blood of her sons, 
 to plant and protect these colonies; nor of the absurd 
 folly of thinking there can be aught else but defeat, 
 and years of poverty before us, as the fruit of this 
 rebellion. Great Britain is sure to win in the end, 
 and then, sir, mayhap you'll be glad of a friend at 
 court. It were well to treat me courteously, and my 
 views with respect while I am forced thus to take 
 refuge among you the day may come when I can 
 return the favor," and Miss Nelly's eyes flashed, 
 and she held her small self very erect in her chair. 
 I had thought her all gayety and softness, and this
 
 8 4 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 evidence of spirit made her but the more charming 
 to me. 
 
 <k At all events let us not quarrel," I begged. " I 
 trust I am not so narrow minded as to be unable to 
 recognize that there may be something to say on the 
 side of England, especially since it is the tyranny of 
 King George and not the will of the people which 
 oppresses us. But I can never agree with your views 
 nor admit the probability of your prophecy. Should 
 the patriots win, as they will, I may have an oppor- 
 tunity to show my appreciation of the offer you have 
 just made me. Meantime, while we await results, 
 let us declare a truce do not spoil my brief holiday 
 by withdrawing your smiles." 
 
 " Since you put it so gallantly, I must consent 
 truce for the present, alliance for the future." 
 
 " Then I dread nothing the future holds for me 
 even defeat would be tolerable with your favor to 
 soften it." 
 
 " You may hold my yarn, Sir Blarney," she 
 laughed; " no need to tell me there's Irish blood in 
 your veins." 
 
 So I held her yarn, and delayed the winding proc- 
 ess all I could, that she might be the longer over her 
 task, and her soft finger tips touch my hands the 
 oftener in untangling the threads I snarled. So our 
 first quarrel resulted in my more certain entangle- 
 ment in the net of Nelly's wiles. 
 
 The sense of loneliness and regret, of distaste for 
 the life of hardship before me that oppressed me, 
 as we took horse to return to camp, was entirely new 
 to me. So quickly had a week of ease and luxury,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 85 
 
 of woman's society, and idle trifling enervated me! 
 I was too far gone even to have proper contempt for 
 myself, and rode all morning by Colonel Morgan's 
 side, silent and morose, answering his cheerful talk 
 with rude monosyllables. 
 
 " Look here, my lad," said the Colonel, after a 
 while, u I fear your holiday has done you harm, 
 rather than good. I meant to give you a brief rest 
 and change that would hearten you for the work be- 
 fore you, and, if instead I've led you into a snare, 
 Donald, I'm very sorry." 
 
 "What snare, Colonel Morgan?" I enquired 
 somewhat haughtily. 
 
 " The snare that a pretty woman's face and a 
 frivolous woman's mind has laid for many a strong 
 man before you, Captain McElroy," answered Colo- 
 nel Morgan, " but I obtrude neither admonition nor 
 advice, sir," and he spurred his horse forward and 
 rode on in front of me. 
 
 The " Captain McElroy " brought me to my 
 senses, for I was not used to hearing anything but 
 " Donald " and " lad " from his lips. I felt heart- 
 ily ashamed of myself, and presently spurred to his 
 side, and humbly begged his pardon. 
 
 " I forgive you without stint, lad," he answered 
 me ; " your feelings are very natural, and 'tis hardly 
 my privilege to preach to any young man, for my 
 own youth was reckless and dissipated. But I can 
 say with knowledge that there is no influence a 
 young man needs so much to dread as that of his 
 own ungoverned passions, and none he should so 
 carefully guard against. You've heard the old 
 hymn :
 
 86 DONALD McELROY 
 
 ' Lo, on a narrow neck of land 
 'Twixt Heaven and Hell I stand ' ; 
 
 " Well, if there's a single situation in life these 
 words describe it is that point in a young man's life 
 when he makes his first clear decision between right 
 and desire, between yielding himself the sport of 
 youthful inclinations, and following the clean path of 
 duty. When the time comes for you to win hon- 
 estly a good woman's love, she will be very proud 
 and glad to know that you can offer her an unsullied 
 manhood. It's the one thing that ever comes be- 
 tween Abigail and me : that even yet I'm ashamed 
 to tell her some of the episodes of my youth." 
 
 "Thank you, Colonel! I shall try to remember 
 your words." 
 
 Remembering was easy enough, but making appli- 
 cation was more difficult. I could not see, then, that 
 Colonel Morgan's caution applied to my infatuation 
 for Nelly, further than to put me on my guard 
 against letting that infatuation interfere with my 
 steadfastness and courage as a soldier. I took the 
 warning to heart, therefore, only so far as to set my 
 face sternly toward my duty again. Its true appli- 
 cation was made clear to me, almost too late.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 There was little time for moping after we got 
 back to headquarters, for on the very next day, 
 Colonel Morgan issued orders to his captains to get 
 their companies in marching order, and a few days 
 later we filed out of camp in double column, bands 
 playing, colors flying, and our faces northward. 
 The men cheered us as we passed, for Morgan's rifle 
 rangers were famous by this time, and were always 
 greeted vociferously. 
 
 General Gates gave us an enthusiastic welcome 
 when we came up with him, lying intrenched along 
 the Hudson River from Stillwater to Halfmoon; 
 and from the first he paid us the compliment of 
 giving us the positions of greatest danger and re- 
 sponsibility, issuing a command that we were to re- 
 ceive orders from himself alone. It was ours to do 
 most of the scout and picket duty during the three 
 weeks that the British army waited on the opposite 
 bank of the river about thirty miles above us, their 
 rear protected by Fort Edward. 
 
 Burgoyne wearied presently of inaction, and deter- 
 mined to wait no longer for Lord Howe's continu- 
 ally delayed reinforcements. He began, too, to sus- 
 pect that his position was fast becoming a critical 
 one, for news now reached him that the forces of 
 Baum and St. Leger had been destroyed at the 
 battle of Oriskany, and that the attack upon Fort
 
 88 DONALD McELROY 
 
 Stanwix had failed, so that the blow from the west 
 could no longer be counted on; the New England 
 militiamen were gathering in force in his rear, and 
 his Indian and Canadian allies frightened it was 
 said by the report that Morgan's rifle rangers had 
 joined Gates daily deserted him. There was no 
 alternative left to General Burgoyne but to cross the 
 river and attack Gates, ere this time well fortified, 
 by the skill of Kosciusko, on Bemis Heights. 
 
 For six days longer, Burgoyne hesitated, or 
 awaited reinforcements. On the morning of Sep- 
 tember the nineteenth, one of the outlook, stationed 
 in a tree top, reported a movement of Burgoyne's 
 army which indicated a concerted rear and front 
 attack upon our position. General Gates decided 
 to await the attack behind our fortifications; 
 but Arnold, who commanded our left wing, argued 
 vehemently in favor of a charge upon Burgoyne's 
 advance column, and at last won Gates' consent that 
 he should lead Morgan's riflemen, and Dearborn's 
 infantry against the approaching enemy. The rifle- 
 men were given the lead, and we fell upon Bur- 
 goyne with telling energy, Morgan all the time ex- 
 posing himself recklessly, and shouting encourage- 
 ment to his men above the incessant crack of their 
 rifles, and the responsive roar of the enemy's guns. 
 
 It was a picture worth seeing our regiment in 
 action, their tall commanding figures in their hunts- 
 men's garb scattering or forming as the ground sug- 
 gested, and each man firing as coolly as if he had 
 nothing more than a brace of partridges in range. 
 
 We had been but a short while in action, when 
 General Frazier turned eastward to help General
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 89 
 
 Burgoyne ; and Riedesel, seeing Burgoyne was hard 
 pressed, hurried up to his assistance from the river 
 road, along which he was marching to attack Gates' 
 position, in front, while, as they had planned, Gen- 
 erals Burgoyne and Frazier should simultaneously 
 attack our position in rear. We had, therefore, 
 successively diverted the entire force, marching to 
 charge Bemis Heights, and fought, with our three 
 thousand backwoods riflemen and raw infantry, four 
 thousand of the best troops in the British army, led 
 by their bravest and most skilled officers. 
 
 The fight was waged with desperate determination 
 on both sides for two hours, while Arnold and Mor- 
 gan galloped hither and thither, animating the men 
 by their voice, presence, and example. Again and 
 again Arnold sent couriers to Gates begging for re- 
 enforcements, and assuring him that with two thou- 
 sand more men he could crush the army of Bur- 
 goyne. But the self opinionated Gates, who pre- 
 ferred to lose by his own judgment, rather than win 
 by any other man's, sat calmly in his tent, watching 
 the fight below, and steadily refused us assistance. 
 In defiance of his narrow stupidity Arnold fought on 
 till dark, and though Burgoyne was left in posses- 
 sion of the battle field, he had lost heavily, and his 
 attack upon our position had been foiled. We, also, 
 had lost heavily, and of our brave riflemen far more 
 than we could by any means afford to spare. 
 
 General Burgoyne did not venture another at- 
 tempt for nearly three weeks. Meanwhile we did 
 not lack excitement in camp, for the long brewing 
 difficulties between Gates and Arnold came rapidly 
 to a head, culminating in a rash speech of Gates
 
 90 DONALD McELROY 
 
 that " as soon as General Lincoln should arrive 
 he would have no further use for General Arnold," 
 and the withdrawal from Arnold's command of 
 Morgan's and Dearborn's regiments, the two he 
 counted most upon. Arnold was furious and all the 
 officers under Gates, except two or three, were in- 
 dignant. We had as much confidence in Arnold's 
 courage and military skill, then, as we had doubt 
 of Gates possessing either of these qualities. Gen- 
 eral Arnold sent in his resignation, which General 
 Gates accepted; but after all the other officers had 
 met and signed a petition entreating Arnold to re- 
 main, he was induced to withdraw his resignation, 
 and Gates submitted sullenly. 
 
 It fell also to the lot of Morgan and Arnold to 
 check the second concerted movement of the British, 
 and upon almost the same ground as before. But 
 the second battle of Freeman's Farm was a far more 
 decisive victory for us. Again Morgan's men led 
 the attack, were the first men on the field, and the 
 last to withdraw. This might well be called the 
 battle of the Colonels, for until General Arnold led 
 the famous charge upon Frazier's wavering line late 
 in the afternoon, which completed the rout of the 
 British, no officer higher in command than a colonel 
 was engaged in the fight on our side. 
 
 General Burgoyne now found himself surrounded 
 by the American army, and next discovered that 
 every ford along the river for miles was strongly 
 guarded Gates was a better general at reaping the 
 fruits of others' victories, than at winning them for 
 himself. A few days later Burgoyne asked for 
 terms of surrender, and on the seventeenth of Octo-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 91 
 
 her seven was our lucky number during this cam- 
 paign the "Convention of Saratoga" was car- 
 ried into effect by the British army marching into a 
 meadow, and laying down their arms, while General 
 Burgoyne handed his sword to General Gates. Our 
 men stayed within their entrenchments, not caring to 
 look upon the humiliation of a brave enemy, and not 
 a single cheer was heard as the disarmed and de- 
 jected British repassed our lines; we realized then, 
 as more than once afterwards, that Americans and 
 Britishers could never really be enemies and that 
 the aims and destinies of Anglo-Saxon peoples were 
 and always would be much the same. 
 
 In General Gates' report of the surrender he 
 failed to mention Colonel Morgan's name, or to give 
 any credit to the riflemen for the important service 
 they had rendered. A few days after the capitula- 
 tion, General Gates gave a dinner to a large number 
 of British and American officers, but he did not in- 
 clude Colonel Morgan. During the progress of the 
 dinner Colonel Morgan was compelled to make some 
 important report to the general in chief, and was 
 ushered into the banqueting room. He saluted for- 
 mally, made his report, and withdrew. 
 
 " And who, General Gates, may be that soldierly 
 and magnificent looking colonel?" enquired a Brit- 
 ish officer. 
 
 " It is Colonel Morgan of the Virginia Riflemen," 
 answered Gates, with as gracious an air as he could 
 command. 
 
 " What, is that the famous Colonel Morgan ! 
 Pardon me, but I must shake hands with him," and 
 he rose from the table, and followed Morgan, sev-
 
 92 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 eral of the other British officers doing likewise, thus 
 compelling General Gates to recall and introduce 
 him. 
 
 " Sir," said General Burgoyne, " you command 
 the finest regiment in the world." 
 
 Colonel Morgan proudly repeated this to his men, 
 and each man of the regiment treasured it in his 
 memory to the end of his life, as being the highest 
 compliment troops could receive, for it came, un- 
 solicited, from a gallant enemy. 
 
 A few days afterward we rejoined the main army 
 at Whitemarsh, Morgan's command taking part in 
 the battle of Chestnut Hill. It was there I got my 
 first and only wound during the Revolution, and was 
 for a second time taken prisoner. I was leading my 
 men in a headlong charge upon the enemy's works, 
 when a small body of British cavalry dashed sud- 
 denly upon us from an unexpected direction, and 
 threatened to cut us off from the main body of our 
 troops; I gave the order to retreat at double quick, 
 and remembered no more, till I found myself a 
 prisoner with a bullet in my left thigh. 
 
 The next day I was taken to a prison hospital in 
 Philadelphia, and laid on a straw pallet in a row 
 of other groaning, tossing, half delirious unfortu- 
 nates. For some days I lost count of time I 
 lived in a troubled dream, with but one definite 
 need, one clearly defined longing, and that for water. 
 Oh, for a fountain of cool sweet water, that I might 
 drink and drink, then rest and drink again ! That 
 which some one brought me from time to time was 
 muddy and flat, but I drank it as if it had been the 
 ambrosial cup of Jove, and in the confused visions
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 93 
 
 which floated in and out of my mind, there was 
 always a sparkling spring gushing out of a green 
 hillside, and falling with a splashing sound into a 
 pebble paved basin. Sometimes I seemed to lie flat 
 upon my chest in the cool grass, and to plunge my 
 head into the cool water. Again I saw the spring, as 
 on that last night at home, silvered by the moon's 
 rays, and Ellen standing on the rock above, wrapped 
 in her white robe, her face mystical with strange 
 thoughts. She smiled at me, and gave me to drink 
 from a golden cup the sweetest water I had ever 
 quaffed. 
 
 One of the first things to arouse me from my 
 semi-stupor was the beseeching cry of a poor lad, 
 who lay on the pallet next mine, for u water, water," 
 over and over again, in tones first petulant and 
 insistent, then entreating and pitiful, then weary and 
 despairing. The next time the bucket and dipper 
 came around, I begged the man who distributed 
 our dole to give my share to the lad, though my 
 throat was like cast iron within, and my heavy tongue 
 as slick as if coated with varnish. The boy fell 
 asleep afterwards, and the brief quiet of his tossing 
 limbs with the smile his dreams brought to his pale 
 lips so rested my nerves, as to enable me to endure 
 the hours which ensued before the next bucketful 
 was distributed. 
 
 " This is Captain McElroy, I believe, sir," I 
 heard a prison official say one day, standing over my 
 pallet I do not know whether it was morning or 
 afternoon, or how many days after I had been 
 brought to the hospital. 
 
 " Do we not provide better accommodations than
 
 94 DONALD McELROY 
 
 this for wounded officers? " said another in lowered 
 voice. 
 
 " We cannot make our own wounded comfortable, 
 Captain," answered the first; " we must do as we 
 can in this half savage country." 
 
 I opened my eyes now, and met those of a slim 
 young man in British uniform, u Can you tell me, 
 sir," he asked, " where I may find Captain Donald 
 McElroy, of Morgan's rifle company? " 
 
 " I'm Captain McElroy of the Virginia Riflemen, 
 sir," and I sat up with a mighty effort, and managed 
 to salute him with a trembling hand. 
 
 " You have not lost your pluck with your strength, 
 I see, Captain McElroy," returning my salute; " I'm 
 Captain Buford, a brother of the young woman you 
 met at the home of Colonel Morgan, last April. 
 Nelly saw your name in the list of wounded prison- 
 ers, several days ago, and has waited impatiently 
 for my return to the city, that she might set me to 
 searching for you. She tells me that you two en- 
 tered into a friendly compact, pledging each other 
 help and protection while the war lasts, whenever 
 one is needed, and the other possible. It was your 
 pleasure once, she bade me say, to extend courtesy 
 to a Tory, it is hers now to show her appreciation 
 of that courtesy, and also of the valor of a brave 
 opponent, the word enemy she charged me not to 
 use." 
 
 The little blood left in my body all mounted to 
 my face, and I knew not if it were weakness, or 
 pleasure that made my brain reel so. u Will you 
 convey to your sister my most grateful thanks, Cap- 
 tain Buford, and say to her for me that any obliga-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 95 
 
 tion she may feel to my friends for she can owe 
 none to me, since she but honored me with her so- 
 ciety is doubly discharged by her gracious inter- 
 est in my fate. If it is in my power to do so, I shall 
 call to express my gratitude in person, as soon as I 
 am strong enough. Will you be so good as to 
 leave your address with me? " But I had used up 
 all my will power, in this long speech, which had 
 come faltering from my dry throat, and now I fell 
 back on my pallet almost in a swoon of weakness. 
 
 " You need more practical assistance, if I mistake 
 not, Captain McElroy, than a mere expression of 
 interest. And our Cousin Abigail will never forgive 
 us the neglect of a friend of her husband. If it is 
 possible to get permission, and I think there will be 
 no difficulty, we wish to take you to our house as a 
 paroled prisoner. With a comfortable bed, and 
 nourishing diet we shall have you well in no time." 
 
 " I am too unsightly an object to risk being seen 
 by your mother and sister, Captain Buford would 
 it not be well to wait until I am strong enough to be 
 shaven and dressed," I protested, weakly. 
 
 " You need only fresh garments, and a comb to 
 be entirely presentable." 
 
 " Then I am in your hands." 
 
 When Captain Buford returned, he was accom- 
 panied by a physician and his own body servant, and 
 had my parole in his hand. The last he showed me, 
 while the physician administered a cordial hardly 
 more stimulating, after which the negro valet made 
 me as decent in appearance as my state permitted. 
 Before they carried me to the ambulance in waiting, 
 I stopped a moment, beside the lad's pallet to say
 
 96 DONALD McELROY 
 
 good-by, and speak a cheering word to him. His 
 fever had abated, now, but I feared he would die 
 of exhaustion, aided by extreme dejection. 
 
 " Cheer up, comrade," I said; "my friends here 
 have promised me they will have you paroled or 
 exchanged, if you'll only set your mind to it, and 
 get well." 
 
 " I'm glad for your good luck," he answered wear- 
 ily, u but I don't expect to hear another friendly 
 voice this side of Heaven." 
 
 " That is not soldier-like talk, lad a patriot 
 must learn to defy suffering, and mischance." 
 
 " Yes, I know, and I'm trying to learn to endure 
 as a soldier should," but he shut his eyes, and the 
 weak grasp of his fingers on mine relaxed. 
 
 "That's right, lad, keep up a brave heart; my 
 friends will not forget you." 
 
 I could trust myself to say no more, and as I took 
 a last look at the smooth, girlish face of the lad, I 
 thought with a fresh heart pang, " How much do the 
 horrors of war outweigh its glories! "
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 The Buford mansion reached, I was at once as- 
 sisted to my room, and put to bed, a special servant 
 being assigned to attend upon me. A week later 
 I was able to sit up each morning in a cushioned 
 chair before my cheerful fire, and presently to walk 
 about my room. I spent many of my waking hours 
 listening to the voices which floated up to me from 
 the lower floor, trying to distinguish Nelly's gay 
 sweet tones among them. Now and then I recog- 
 nized a light footfall, as she flitted past my door, 
 and hoped vainly that she would stop to speak to 
 me. At last I grew desperate, demanded paper and 
 quill of my man, Hector, and wrote this in scrawl- 
 ing characters : 
 
 " Am I never to have the honor and privilege of 
 thanking my generous deliverer? The weight of my 
 gratitude oppresses me; will you not add another 
 deed of gracious kindness to my debt, and give me 
 the opportunity to ease my soul by expressing a part 
 of the thankfulness and devotion which fill it to over- 
 flowing? Only let me see you, and I shall be, for 
 as long as it pleases you, sweet Nelly. 
 
 " Your most willing captive, 
 
 " DONALD MCELROY." 
 
 Then I sealed, and addressed the note, and bade 
 Hector take it to his young mistress. He came back
 
 98 DONALD McELROY 
 
 in a few moments with the message that " Miss 
 Nelly would see me in half an hour." The interim 
 was spent by me in making as careful a toilet as any 
 young girl robing for her first ball. I had had Cap- 
 tain Buford purchase for me two suits of citizens' 
 clothes of latest cut and pattern, and I flattered 
 myself that the plum colored breeches and coat, the 
 sprigged velvet waistcoat, black silk stockings, and 
 silver buckles set off my heroic proportions to some 
 advantage. I had been daily clean shaven since I 
 had been strong enough to stand it, and my " curl- 
 ing chestnut locks," had grown long enough to admit 
 of their being gathered into a respectable resem- 
 blance to a queue, which I tied with a black satin 
 ribbon. 
 
 Just as I had satisfied myself that I was not ill 
 to look at, a liveried footman came to my door to 
 say that Miss Buford awaited me in the second 
 floor reception room, and that I was to follow him 
 thither. I found her standing by the window, a 
 plume covered brown felt scoop hiding all her blonde 
 head, except the airy curls upon her forehead, and 
 about her throat a dark fur tippet, from which her 
 fair face rose, like a flower set in rich leaves. 
 
 " I'm just going out, Captain McElroy," she said, 
 after she had given me a gracious greeting, " but I 
 could not resist your gallant appeal, nor go until I 
 had relieved you of your heavy burden though 
 I'm sorry, sir, you should feel it as a burden, the 
 small service it has been our pleasure to render 
 you." 
 
 " I feel not your kindness as a burden, Miss Nelly, 
 it has been accepted as freely as bestowed 'twas
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 9 9 
 
 the longing to see and to thank you that I 
 could endure no longer. I have now no further 
 cause for unrest, save this threat of yours to leave 
 me, before I have had time to clothe my gratitude 
 in adequate words." 
 
 " Will't say you're glad I'm a Tory and that 
 even a Tory may be honest and a Christian? If you 
 will, I shall call it fair quittance of all you owe me," 
 and she laughed the rippling saucy laugh that had 
 been ringing through my dreams for months. 
 
 " That a Tory may be honest and a Christian, I 
 admit most freely, but that I am glad you are one 
 is more than I can say, with aught of truth. I would 
 have you all on my side if I could; still more, I 
 would have no one with half so good a claim to you 
 as I." 
 
 "But 'tis the other way, Sir Patriot no one 
 else has so good a claim to you as have I ; since you 
 are my paroled prisoner. Do they treat you well, 
 poor captive? " 
 
 " As an honored guest, fair jailer; there's but one 
 thing lacking to my comfort." 
 
 " And what may that be? It shall be supplied." 
 
 " A daily interview, and a long one, with my 
 jailer." 
 
 " You have been very slow, sir, to signify a wish 
 to see her. Two weeks ago to-day it has been since 
 you came, and this is the first intimation I have had 
 that my presence would be welcome." 
 
 " And daily I have hoped you would stop at my 
 threshold to ask of my improvement you could 
 not fail to know that I have been pining for one 
 look at your bright face."
 
 ioo DONALD MCELROY 
 
 " Young women must not take things for granted, 
 sir; you, however, are not like the British officers 
 and the city macaronis, you are both honest and 
 modest, and if you have not made great haste to 
 be gallant, I feel sure you are sincere. But I must 
 say good-by for the present, a skating party waits 
 for me, down stairs." 
 
 " When may I hope to see you again? " 
 
 " To-morrow, if you wish." 
 
 "At what hour, that I may count the min- 
 utes!" 
 
 " Eleven o'clock, shall we say? If I might read 
 to you an hour each morning, would that help you 
 to pass less irksomely the tedious days of your cap- 
 tivity? " 
 
 She called this back to me over her shoulder, her 
 saucy face fairer for its frame of soft plumes and 
 rich fur. 
 
 " 'Twould make me rejoice in the midst of my 
 misfortunes, most merciful jailer," I answered, 
 striking an attitude with my hand upon my heart. 
 
 The hours crawled by like a slow procession of 
 half torpid serpents till I fell asleep, and the next 
 morning passed in eager expectancy. 
 
 " Which of these shall I read from? " began Miss 
 Nelly, entering the small reception room with her 
 arms full of books. 
 
 " I have chosen a variety, one of which will, I 
 hope, suit both your taste and your mood. Here is 
 Ossian, if your literary appetite calls for the mystic 
 and lyric; or Pope if it demands the caustic and 
 humorous; or Lady Mary Montague if you have a 
 weakness for gossip; or Shakespeare's ' Romeo and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 101 
 
 Juliet,' Ben Jonson's ' Mourning Bride,' should your 
 mood be tragic; or 'Evelina,' the most popular of 
 the new novels, if you have a fancy for fiction. 
 Which shall it be this morning?" 
 
 " First, a few extracts from Ossian, then, a bit 
 of Lady Mary, and lastly, a chapter from the new 
 novel," I answered with shameless greed. 
 
 But we did not get to the novel that morning, for 
 the reading of Ossian ended in an animated discus- 
 sion of the claims of McPherson that his poems 
 were a genuine translation from the old Gaelic. I 
 strongly maintained, that the true spirit of the an- 
 cient Gaelic people was in these poems, and that it 
 would be well nigh impossible for a modern to con- 
 ceive or to reproduce the feelings and sentiments 
 of these primitive bards with such absolute truth 
 of conception. Miss Nelly, however, held stoutly 
 to the views of the critics, as became her conser- 
 vative habit of mind. 
 
 Then came a few extracts from " Lady Mary " 
 after which she seemed weary, so that I picked up 
 her volume of plays and read from it some of my 
 favorite quotations. 
 
 " Why, Captain McElroy," she exclaimed, " you 
 read well. After this you shall read to me, sir, 
 while I finish hemstitching my ruffles." 
 
 " I have a favor to ask of you, Captain McElroy," 
 said Miss Nelly one morning when my hour of bliss 
 was about to end. " I want you to take a part in 
 the play we are rehearsing, 'tis the latest comedy 
 written by the late great London playwright, Sheri- 
 dan, and you could do the part of Sir Peter Teazle 
 to perfection."
 
 102 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 " But I have never so much as seen a play, Miss 
 Nelly," I answered in consternation. 
 
 " Never mind that, you will be sure to say your 
 lines with true expression, and the rest I can teach 
 you. Do consent, Sir Patriot, I have told the girls 
 and the British officers about you, and they all de- 
 sire greatly to meet you ; even the belle and beauty, 
 Miss Margaret Shippen, said last evening to me, 
 ' I hear, Miss Nelly, you have captured a rebel cap- 
 tain, and hold him imprisoned in your castle are 
 not we to have the pleasure of meeting him? 'Tis 
 said he is a Goliath for size; a David for skill, 
 though with rifle instead of sling; and an Absalom 
 for beauty of person.' Now, Sir, can you resist a 
 compliment like that from the fairest Tory maiden 
 in Philadelphia; will you not come in the drawing 
 room this evening, and be introduced to her? " 
 
 " And meet British officers, who might resent my 
 impertinence ! " 
 
 " All who come to this house are gentlemen, sir 
 nor would they show the least disrespect to a 
 friend of mine." 
 
 " I am not fit for polite society, Miss Nelly, and 
 I wish not to play the part of Samson to make 
 sport for my enemies." 
 
 " The suggestion is insulting, Captain McElroy, 
 and I urge you no more," and Miss Nelly left the 
 room, her head poised haughtily. Next morning 
 she did not join me in the library at the usual time, 
 and after an hour's waiting I sent to beg her pres- 
 ence. 
 
 " I apologize with deep humility of soul for my 
 rudeness of yesterday," I said, as soon as she came
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 103 
 
 in. " I'll meet your friends gladly, and try the part 
 of Sir Peter if 'twill gratify you. Do not I owe my 
 life to you, and have you not made my very cap- 
 tivity a time of delight? Will you not forgive me, 
 since the speech was prompted by the stupidity of a 
 blunt soldier, and not by any doubt of you or your 
 friends?" 
 
 " Only upon condition that you stop abusing your- 
 self, will I forgive you, sir, and moreover that you 
 speak before these British, and Tory friends of mine 
 with the same bold spirit of independence you have 
 ever used to me. I like you for it, though, at times, 
 it nettles me." 
 
 u You need have no fear of that," I laughed, 
 " but I shall endeavor so to act that you may not 
 blush for having honored me with the name of 
 friend." 
 
 " You know well that I shall be proud of you, 
 Captain McElroy, there's not so handsome a man 
 in the British army. I would give a great deal 
 to see you in a British captain's uniform, that I 
 might show them such men as this land, which they 
 sometimes flaunt and laugh at, produces. Though 
 a Tory, Captain McElroy, I love America, and 
 Americans, and allow no one to slur either at our 
 country, or our people." 
 
 O wily, bewitching Nelly; how was it possible 
 to resist you. And yet I cannot believe that you 
 were from the first playing a part, nor that you 
 coldly schemed to entrap me. You were my true 
 friend when much I needed one, and if afterward you 
 became a snare, it was greatly my own fault. 
 
 [That evening I donned my best, having sent Hec-
 
 104 DONALD McELROY 
 
 tor out to purchase a white silk vest embroidered 
 with pink rosebuds, and a white silk, lace trimmed 
 stock, that I might be behind none of the macaronis, 
 nor give the foppish British officers cause to scoff 
 at my provincial appearance. A man of gentle 
 blood and sound principles needs scant time for ac- 
 quiring society polish, and by saying little, and 
 watching and listening closely, I soon learned the 
 approved ways of doing the little things. They 
 thought me shy, and kindly left me a good deal to 
 myself, at first. Miss Shippen a stately, beauti- 
 ful, and most gracious mannered maiden called 
 me to her side the second evening, and entered into 
 a conversation in regard to the comedy. " Like you 
 the part of Sir Peter? " she asked. 
 
 " Rather better than any of the others, I think." 
 
 " Then I infer you do not find the other characters 
 to your liking? " and she smiled, and glanced side- 
 ways at the officer who sat on her other hand. 
 
 " The comedy is doubtless a fine satire upon cer- 
 tain gay London circles," I replied, " but there are 
 but two characters one can like. Maria, and Sir 
 Peter, and both are shamefully cozened. I must ex- 
 cept too the old uncle, he is quite likable." 
 
 " And you like not that fascinating rake, Charles 
 Surface, nor delicious Lady Teazle, with her bois- 
 terous snobbery, and her irrepressible good na- 
 ture? Are you of Quaker faith, Captain McEl- 
 roy?" 
 
 " No, Miss Shippen, I'm a Scotch Irish Presby- 
 terian." 
 
 " Then we shall shock you, I fear." 
 
 " But whatever may be your religious views, sir,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 105 
 
 you wish surely to know something of life? " put in 
 the British officer, a well made blonde man with 
 straight nose, and large mouth. " Would you take 
 advantage of your present opportunities, you shall 
 learn things you have not dreamed of in your moun- 
 tain wilds." 
 
 " Adventure has ever appealed to me, sir, and 
 lately my life has been o'er tame," I answered, de- 
 termined to be no milksop among these British. 
 " So you do not ask me to go a backbiting with Sir 
 Benjamin, and the rest, there's little you can offer 
 me, promising excitement, that you will not find me 
 ready for." 
 
 " Glad am I to hear it, Mr. McElroy 
 
 " Captain McElroy, an' you please ; having won 
 my humble title by hard service, and not by court 
 favor, I am very proud of it, sir." 
 
 " Beg your pardon," somewhat haughtily; " I was 
 about to say I like not a soldier, Captain McElroy, 
 who cants and prays between battles, as did the 
 hypocritical Cromwellians. A gay life in barracks is 
 proper reward for arduous work during a campaign ; 
 to-morrow, an' you will, I shall call to take you 
 to our quarters, where you may lunch with four as 
 jolly good fellows as are to be found in the British 
 army." 
 
 I had just assented to this invitation of Captain 
 Wheaton's, when Miss Shippen introduced me to the 
 latest comer, as Colonel Forbes; he was a small, 
 wiry, swarthy man who had been making the round 
 of the room, and now leaned over Miss Shippen's 
 chair, whispering in her ear. 
 
 " One of Morgan's Riflemen, said you, Miss Mar-
 
 106 DONALD McELROY 
 
 garet? " eyeing me with most evident curiosity, as I 
 rose to return his salutation; u a famous leader, and 
 brave troops; they did the work for us at Saratoga. 
 To your colonel and his men belongs the glory of 
 that victory, Captain McElroy yet I hear it has 
 been filched from you by that braggart Gates, and 
 that Colonel Morgan has not even been accorded 
 a promotion. This so-called Continental Congress 
 knows naught of the art of warfare, nor can recog- 
 nize the qualities of a true leader, or else it has its 
 favorites whom it is determined to advance, regard- 
 less of merit." 
 
 Though all this was true, I burned inwardly to 
 hear him say it; determined, however, to repress the 
 rash words which rose to my lips, I set them firmly, 
 folded my arms, and bowed in grave silence. 
 
 " Captain Morgan is devotedly loved by his men, 
 I hear," put in Miss Shippen. " Is he very genial 
 with them, Captain McElroy? " 
 
 "He treats them as sons, or as brothers; there's 
 not one but would follow him cheerfully to certain 
 death." 
 
 " But," said Miss Shippen, " I am much more in- 
 terested in the comedy, than in any talk of war, or 
 comparison of leaders, for Captain McElroy it is I 
 who am to act Maria do you not think I'll look 
 and act the character to the life? " 
 
 " To perfection, and now I wish I were to play 
 Charles Surface." 
 
 " Hear him, Nelly," called Miss Shippen to that 
 young lady, crossing the room to the spinet, attended 
 by half a dozen gallants. " He pretends to wish 
 that he were going to be Charles Surface in our
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 107 
 
 comedy, didst ever hear of such shameless deceit?" 
 " Or such base ingratitude, for I see he has already 
 transferred his allegiance but why should we be 
 surprised by any fresh evidence of masculine per- 
 fidy have we not long since learned that * Men 
 were deceivers ever ' ? " and Nelly's manner and tone 
 showed that she would be no amateur upon the 
 stage. 
 
 " And women were ever our innocent victims, I 
 suppose. There's not a coquette among you ! " 
 jeered Captain Buford, who had just joined our 
 circle, a brown haired Quakeress upon his arm, who 
 was going to sing duets with Miss Nelly. 
 
 " We but use nature's weapons for our just de- 
 fense, Captain Buford," answered Miss Shippen. 
 " The more skillful and wary one's enemy, the more 
 adroit one needs be. Women have learned to 
 guard, to parry, and to thrust by long practice in the 
 art of self-defense." 
 
 The lunch in Captain Wheaton's quarters the next 
 day was not the last of the entertainments proffered 
 me by my hospitable enemies, especially by Buford's 
 and Wheaton's mess. Not only did I lunch with 
 them, dine with them, and drink with them ; I also 
 diced and played with them, and was invited to join 
 their riding parties. Once Wheaton, who seemed 
 to have conceived a liking for me which I returned 
 heartily, carelessly allowed me to inspect with him 
 the city's fortifications, and to see how inadequate 
 they were to resist attack from any strong, well 
 equipped force. Afterwards this incident, which 
 was purely accidental, and seemed of small import-
 
 io8 DONALD McELROY 
 
 ance as I thought at the time, counted heavily against 
 me, and proved to be the small silent hinge on which 
 turned the door opening to me the high road of my 
 destiny. Far more important events have turned 
 upon still smaller hinges. 
 
 The British soldiers were most of them fine sol- 
 diers, and genial comrades, and their treatment of 
 me was all courtesy and kindness. Through an odd 
 streak of luck attending me, for surely skill had 
 nothing to do with my triumph, I won at nearly all 
 the games of chance so prevalent among them. 
 Quinze, Piquet, Hazard, and other games, besides 
 all sorts of wild betting, were their chief diversions. 
 They even bet at whist, a slow, deep thinking game, 
 well worth the playing without a wager. Whatever 
 the game, I won indifferently, and soon my depleted 
 pockets jingled merrily with English gold pieces. 
 
 " The Scotchman's luck " became a proverb in the 
 captain's messes. But in all the dissipation of that 
 time I was watchful never to drink to excess. I am 
 not fanatical against strong drinks, and to this day 
 can find no harm in one's warming and cheering him- 
 self with a cup of good sack, or a finger of rum, but 
 it has ever filled me with disgust to see a man's legs 
 wabbling and tangling as he walked, and to hear 
 maudlin words mixing themselves in unintelligible 
 gibberish upon a thick and lolling tongue. 
 
 And all this time my infatuation for Nelly Buford 
 took daily stronger possession of me. I spent in 
 her society every hour she would allow me, and 
 became the slave of each of her pretty, womanish 
 caprices. Her deference to me as her captive guest
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 109 
 
 led me on as subtly as her coquetry, and so little skill 
 or wish had I to hide my infatuation, that I must 
 have seemed to all Miss Nelly's acquaintances to 
 stand to her in the attitude of an accepted lover. 
 Once or twice I did venture to tell her that I loved 
 her, but was easily checked by a doubting word, or 
 an attempt to change the subject. Now, at any rate, 
 I considered, I could not ask her to marry me, and 
 to avow my love for other purposes were dishonor- 
 able. I yet had not the courage to resign hope, 
 nor the will to see less of her. 
 
 My habit to drink sparingly has more than once 
 stood me in good stead, but never more so than at a 
 banquet given to General Howe by the officers, 
 about the first of February, to which I was most 
 graciously invited; and to which, being urged by Bu- 
 ford and Wheaton, I foolishly consented to go. I 
 did not realize the unpleasantness of the position in 
 which I had put myself until the time came for toasts 
 and speeches. First the health of the king was 
 drunk with enthusiasm, all standing with heads held 
 proudly, and brimming glasses tossed high, while a 
 lusty cheer went up from many throats. I stood, 
 also, not to make myself conspicuous, but neither 
 drank nor cheered. To General Howe's health, I 
 drank for courtesy's sake, but when " Success to 
 British arms " was proposed, I found my stock of 
 politeness completely exhausted, and sat down 
 abruptly, to the amusement of Forbes on my left 
 and the scorn of the officer opposite. 
 
 And now began the serious business of the even- 
 ing; brave soldiers, and cultivated gentlemen set 
 themselves valorously to the task of drinking each
 
 no DONALD MCELROY 
 
 other under the table; as gradually they waxed up- 
 roarious, free talk was interchanged as to the sup- 
 posed plans of the British government, and its un- 
 swerving determination to subdue the revolting col- 
 onies at whatever cost of men or money. Meantime 
 Colonel Forbes and the captain next to him diverted 
 me from the general talk by asking questions as to 
 the part Morgan and his men had taken in the at- 
 tack against Quebec, and the battles which led to 
 Saratoga; throwing in frequent adroit compliments 
 to the riflemen, and expressions of admiration and 
 sympathy for Colonel Morgan. Finding me non- 
 committal as to the treatment Arnold and Morgan 
 had received from the Continental Congress, they 
 branched off into an argument meant to convince 
 me of the hopelessness of our cause, and the use- 
 lessness of sacrificing life and property by further 
 resistance; declaring that Great Britain was willing 
 to yield all we asked and wanted, short of complete 
 independence, and that only a few fanatics believed 
 that to be possible, or desirable. 
 
 To this I responded, with perfect calmness, that 
 nothing less than complete independence from auto- 
 cratic will would satisfy the American people and 
 that since we could never be conquered at such dis- 
 tance it would be wiser to grant us the independence 
 we claimed and to make of us loyal allies. That we 
 were not warring against the British nation which 
 we honored and esteemed above all pther souls, but 
 against the tyrannical notions of the King and his 
 courtiers, themselves aliens to the English blood. 
 That our independence would but hasten theirs and 
 bring the sooner that freedom of the human race
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN in 
 
 and that universal democracy which was the dream 
 of all true men and real patriots. Indeed, I affirmed, 
 waxing more and more enthusiastic for my most 
 cherished belief, " It would yet be the proud privi- 
 lege of England and America to stand side by side 
 for the cause of liberty and self-government." 
 
 Colonel Forbes but laughed at my wild theories 
 and as he got drunker and drunker grew more and 
 more friendly 'til, presently, he wished I were his 
 comrade, since I was too good a fellow for a rebel; 
 and then, with the effusive confidence of a man deep 
 in his cups, began a jumble of protestations and in- 
 sinuations, hinting at the high honors, and rich emol- 
 uments which awaited me if I would only consent to 
 give up my foolish devotion to rebellion and become 
 once more a loyal British subject. 
 
 I thought his talk but the foolish babble of a 
 drunken man, and turned it aside with jest and ban- 
 ter. 
 
 When presently the more sober arose to depart, 
 the officer who had sat next to Colonel Forbes, and 
 who, since the latter had waxed so confidential, had 
 lapsed into silence, took me by the arm and asked 
 me to go with him to a small cloak room adjoining 
 the banqueting hall. 
 
 " Captain McElroy," he said when we were seated 
 and alone, " Colonel Forbes has prematurely made 
 you an offer we have been contemplating for some 
 days, and in regard to which I was authorized to 
 sound you. We have good reason to believe there 
 is an officer in the rebel ranks well affected to our 
 cause; we need some one who can freely communi- 
 cate with him if you will consent to help us, a
 
 n2 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 captain's commission in the British army, with prom- 
 ise of speedy promotion, and any sum of ready 
 money you may name is yours. Only sign this paper, 
 and the compact is closed." 
 
 I took the paper he handed me, opened and read 
 it, then rose to my feet, and slowly tore it into bits, 
 throwing them, as I did so, into the fire. 
 
 " Captain Forsythe," I said, while my hand and 
 my voice shook with the strain I put upon myself 
 to control my anger, " you and others have evidently 
 mistaken me for a villain of that low and despicable 
 type capable of treason to his country. For the 
 present I condone the insult for the sake of other 
 British officers who have seemed to consider me a 
 man of honor. I bid you good night, sir," and 
 reaching for cloak and hat, I hastened into the 
 street, where the freshness and purity of the early 
 morning air and the calming message of the stead- 
 fast stars shining on in their clear, soft beauty, 
 whether men pray and sleep like Christians, or dice 
 and plot, and drink like devils, on the changeful 
 earth beneath them cooled my fevered brow, and 
 helped me to restrain a seething desire to take vio- 
 lent vengeance upon my insulter. But I realized 
 clearly the foolhardiness of such course, and more- 
 over the ingratitude and disrespect to my friends it 
 would seem to imply.
 
 'You HAVE EVIDENTLY MISTAKEN ME FOR A VILLAIN."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 The second evening after the banquet was the one 
 set for the performance of our carefully rehearsed 
 comedy, and all the Tory society of Philadelphia 
 was agog with interest and curiosity to see the latest 
 London hit, played by the belles of the city and 
 the most popular of the British officers. I was told, 
 moreover, that the story had gone abroad that the 
 part of Sir Peter would be taken by a youthful Vir- 
 ginia mountaineer, whose giant proportions and un- 
 usual gifts of person and bearing considering his 
 backwoods breeding made him the feature of the 
 performance. I was no little annoyed by this talk, 
 though I credited Wheaton, who retailed it to me, 
 with a good deal of bantering exaggeration. In 
 truth, being still sore from the insult offered me at 
 the banquet, I wanted to throw up my part; but, 
 after consideration of the difficulties it would entail 
 upon my entertainers, and others who had been 
 courteous to me, I forced myself to stick to my role 
 cheerfully, and to do my best at it. 
 
 Rigged out in all the toggery of a stage Sir Peter, 
 I presented myself to Miss Nelly. " Perfect," she 
 exclaimed taking me by the elbow with the tips of 
 her fingers, and slowly turning me around at arm's 
 length, while she inspected critically my pompous 
 finery. " Now must they all admit that there's not 
 so handsome a figure of a man in the British army,"
 
 u 4 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 and she nodded approval bewitchingly, with her 
 puffed, powdered, and plumed head. She was alto- 
 gether charming in her rich brocade gown and yel- 
 low laces, and I managed to tell her so in words 
 that pleased her. 
 
 The play was pronounced a London success, and 
 the players universally complimented. Twice were 
 Lady Teazle and Sir Peter called before the cur- 
 tain, and such flattering compliments were showered 
 upon me in the green room that I was quite puffed 
 with vanity and forgot my inward soreness. After 
 the performance, Colonel Forbes entertained the 
 players at a supper where sherry, Burgundy, arid 
 sparkling white wines of France were as free as 
 spring water. Wheaton was made to sing his hit 
 of the evening Sheridan's jolly drinking song over 
 again, and did so with even better voice and expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " Here's to the maiden of bashful fifteen, 
 Here's to the widow of fifty, 
 Here's to the flaunting, extravagant queen 
 And here's to the housewife that's thrifty. 
 
 (And all joined in the chorus : ) 
 
 " Let the toast pass, 
 Drink to the lass, 
 I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass. 
 
 " Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize, 
 Now to the maid who has none, sir; 
 Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes, 
 And here's to the nymph with but one, sir. 
 
 " Let the toast pass, etc.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 115 
 
 " Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow, 
 Now to her that's as brown as a berry; 
 Here's to the wife with a face full of woe, 
 And now to the girl that is merry. 
 
 " Let the toast pass, etc. 
 
 " For let them be clumsy, or let them be slim, 
 Young or ancient, I care not a feather, 
 So fill a pint bottle quite up to the brim 
 And let us e'en toast them together. 
 
 " Let the toast pass, etc." 
 
 Even Miss Nelly, and the stately Miss Shippen 
 had drunken till their fair faces were a little flushed, 
 and they joined with noticeable abandon in the cho- 
 rus. The men presently became too hilarious, there 
 being ladies present, and I suddenly realized that 
 I also had imbibed more freely than I usually al- 
 lowed myself. Just then I caught Miss Shippen's 
 eye, saw that she observed my change of manner, 
 and took it either for reproof or warning. Not to 
 appear either rude or Puritanical in her eyes, I 
 silently rebuked myself for my Presbyterian straight- 
 lacedness, and began again to drink and to make 
 noisily merry with the rest. A moment later Miss 
 Shippen leaned over to us and asked, in an under- 
 tone, if Nelly and I would escort her home the 
 recent Joseph Surface being, she feared, already 
 incapacitated for that duty. We slipped out almost 
 unobserved, being followed soon after, I think, by 
 the rest of the ladies, and the few gallants in fit 
 condition to escort them. 
 
 My brain cooled but slowly, even in the fresh
 
 n6 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 night air, and, after we had safely delivered Miss 
 Shippen at her home, and driven to the Buford man- 
 sion, I begged Nelly to sit with me, in the library, 
 till I felt more ready to welcome sleep. A single 
 candle burned still in the silver stick on the candle- 
 stand, but through the shutterless French windows 
 giving upon the rear balcony, a bath of opal-rayed 
 moonlight flooded the room. I blew out the candle, 
 as Nelly sank into a deep chair within the circle of 
 the moon's softer radiance, and bade me find some- 
 thing to talk of, other than the play, for she was 
 sick of it. 
 
 " Then give me a subject your ladyship will be 
 pleased to hear discourse upon," I said, placing a 
 chair for myself in front of her. 
 
 " The one nearest your heart, sir." 
 
 " That would be the one most accessible to my 
 present satisfied vision." 
 
 " I and what could you say upon so meager 
 a topic? " 
 
 " Meager? To recount your goodness to me 
 would furnish material for an hour's discourse; to 
 enumerate your charms and graces another; your 
 qualities and accomplishments a third. Give me 
 leave and I'll talk till cock crow upon one subdivision 
 of my theme how much I love you ! But always 
 you hush me when I approach that subject." 
 
 44 Because I know you love me not that only 
 you love to flatter me. How learned you such arts 
 of the world, thou whilom backwoodsman?" 
 
 " From instinct. Needs a man ever to learn how 
 to tell a woman he loves her? How to descant 
 upon charms and graces he sees limned in beauty
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 117 
 
 before his eyes? How can you say I do not love 
 you? " 
 
 " Have you read of King Arthur's knights, and 
 how they dared mighty deeds of prowess for the 
 damsels they loved? " 
 
 " Yes, and so would I were there deeds of 
 prowess to be done. But I, a prisoner," and then 
 I stopped, ashamed that I should complain, like a 
 whining stripling, of the fortunes of war, which in 
 truth had used me but too kindly in all save enforced 
 inactivity. 
 
 " True, there are no deeds of prowess you may 
 do now, but one single act of self-sacrifice would 
 convince me of your love." 
 
 " Only name it, dear Nelly," and I leaned nearer 
 and caught in mine the hands that folded in her lap. 
 
 " It will serve to prove the value of your protes- 
 tations though I know beforehand you will not 
 consent." 
 
 " First name my reward ; were it but one kiss from 
 those sweet lips, I'll engage to earn it at any cost." 
 
 " It might be something more lasting than a kiss, 
 an' you would," and Nelly blushed adorably, and 
 dropped the soft fringe of her eyes upon her glow- 
 ing cheeks. 
 
 " Your dear self, Nelly, your love? " I questioned 
 ardently, kissing the hands I still imprisoned, and 
 dropping on my knees beside her, that I might force 
 her eyes to meet mine. 
 
 " Even my own poor self nor is the sacrifice I 
 would ask so great; indeed it carries with it a com- 
 pensation which by many would be deemed ample 
 reward, were all you are now bargaining for left
 
 us DONALD MCELROY 
 
 out of the contract. Can you not guess what proof 
 of your sincerity I would claim? " 
 
 " Thick headed soldier that I am, I cannot " 
 but I scarcely knew what I said, for my arm was 
 about Nelly's warm, pliant form, her soft cheek 
 rested against mine, her fragrant breath was in my 
 nostrils, and my heart thumped audibly, while all 
 my blood was in a hot tumult of blissful agitation. 
 
 " Simply to don the uniform of a British captain, 
 and then to teach these luxurious laggards how to put 
 a speedy end to this fratricidal contest. By doing 
 so you will the sooner bring to this distracted coun- 
 try the blessing of restored peace, and for yourself 
 win quick promotion, honor, fame, fortune and 
 if you love me, Donald, that which will make you 
 happiest." 
 
 As soon as I had realized the full meaning of 
 Nelly's rapidly poured forth persuasions, I gently 
 released her, and rose to my feet, then stood 
 silently by, for a moment, looking down upon her, 
 with a conscious tenseness of all my muscles, as of 
 one who inwardly strengthens himself for a wrench- 
 ing effort. Beneath my fixed gaze Nelly paled, and 
 flushed, and paled again, and the fingers of her freed 
 hands were locked and loosed alternately, while from 
 beneath her lowered lids two big tears slipped, and 
 fell unheeded. 
 
 Meantime I thought of Colonel Morgan, and 
 the indignation with which he had repelled an offer 
 of treason when a prisoner in Canada; then of my 
 father, and his perfect trust in me his only son, 
 bearer of a yet untarnished name to future genera- 
 tions ; and then, most strangely, came a sudden vision
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 119 
 
 of Ellen O'Niel, as last I had seen her poised like 
 a spirit upon the rock above the spring; and with 
 the vision came a new and more complete under- 
 standing of her feelings of fierce loyalty to her par- 
 ents' religion, and of all that it meant to her. 
 
 " And you could give yourself to a traitor," I said, 
 at last "or would you play Delilah to my Sam- 
 son, Jael to my Sisera, Judith to my Holofernes? 
 But I am roused from my well nigh fatal slumber; 
 I have broken my bonds. To-morrow I resign my 
 parole, and deliver myself a prisoner. I must in- 
 deed have sunk low, since twice in forty-eight hours 
 infamous proposals of treason have been made to 
 me ! " Then my heart softened to Nelly, now 
 shaken with sobs, her face covered with her 
 hands. 
 
 " But I can well believe you meant it not for in- 
 sult, Miss Nelly; you were set on by others to offer 
 me love and luxury at the price of my honor. 
 Women have no place in intrigue; I shall forget 
 the nightmare of this hour, and remember only your 
 goodness to me, and my happiness in your home. 
 Farewell, thou sweet and gracious Nelly of my 
 heart; the only Nelly I shall ever remember." And 
 then I stooped and kissed the bowed head with rev- 
 erent tenderness as one kisses the face of a dying 
 comrade. 
 
 The soft moon radiance which had caressed Nelly 
 so becomingly, in the room below, streamed through 
 my opened window, and I kneeled in it, and prayed, 
 earnestly, that the God of my fathers would protect 
 me against temptation, as he had hitherto protected 
 me against all other dangers. As I did so the qua-
 
 120 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 vering voice of my grandmother seemed to sound 
 in my ears, and I could hear her chanting in tones 
 of solemn rapture her favorite song: 
 
 " The man hath perfect blessedness, 
 Who walketh not astray 
 In counsel of ungodly men, 
 Nor stands in sinners' way, 
 Nor sitteth in the scorner's chair 
 But placeth his delight 
 Upon God's law, and meditates 
 On His law day and night. 
 
 " He shall be like a tree that grows 
 Near planted by a river, 
 Which in his season yields his fruit, 
 And his leaf fadeth never. 
 And all he doth shall prosper well. 
 The wicked are not so, 
 But like they are unto the chaff, 
 Which wind drives to and fro." 
 
 Often had I sung with her these words, but now 
 they took on a new meaning. I had chosen to enjoy 
 luxury with the enemies of my country, rather than 
 endure the hardships of prison life with other cap- 
 tives, and had allowed myself to become so entan- 
 gled with them that the wrench of total separation 
 must cost me much of regret and suffering. I had 
 walked astray therefore God's blessing was no 
 longer upon me. 
 
 All night I tossed, regretting past weakness, and 
 planning an honorable retreat. I could see, now, 
 how they had played upon my conceit, and even upon 
 my sociability, and, with writhings of spirit, I was 
 compelled to admit that Nelly herself had measured
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 121 
 
 my weaknesses, and used them to gain her ascend- 
 ancy over me. 
 
 The household was still wrapped in the slumber 
 of early morning when I arose, packed my belong- 
 ings, and leaving a note of thanks and farewell to 
 Madam Buford, betook myself to Captain Wheat- 
 on's quarters. 
 
 " He was still asleep," his man said; so I stretched 
 myself upon a settee in his smoking room, fell into a 
 doze, and then asleep. 
 
 " In the name of Pluto, and all the other gods 
 of the lower region, how came you here, McElroyI 
 Had you to bring me home, and were you too drunk 
 to go farther? " were the first words which aroused 
 me; and they came from Wheaton, who stood in 
 the middle of the room, unshaven, and uncombed, 
 his fine figure wrapped in a gay Turkish chamber- 
 robe. 
 
 " I know not how drunk you may have been be- 
 fore the feast ended, Wheaton," I answered, laugh- 
 ing, " but I slept in my own bed, rose at sun-up, 
 and have dozed here an hour or so waiting for 
 you." 
 
 " Then you have the stomach and the head of 
 Charles Fox himself. I know not how, or when I 
 got to bed, and my head is as big and as tight as a 
 drum. But you came avisiting full early what's 
 to pay? " 
 
 14 1 wish to ask a last favor, Captain, though al- 
 ready your courtesy to a prisoner passeth thanks." 
 
 " Out with it, man, though why last, I can no 
 way surmise. 'Tis done if can be."
 
 122 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 As briefly as possible I told him of the offer which 
 had been made me at the officers' banquet, and of 
 my growing conviction that my own conduct had 
 made me liable to the insult; so that, though I felt 
 no sentiment but one of gratitude to the officers, I 
 could no longer remain among them, as a guest. I 
 wished him, therefore, to ask Colonel Forbes to 
 grant me an exchange as soon as possible, and mean- 
 time I would hand in my parole, and go to prison. 
 " I tell you truth, Wheaton," I concluded, " when 
 I say that I scorn myself for my conduct during the 
 past two months." 
 
 " You take a most exaggerated view of the situa- 
 tion, McElroy, and your decision is quixotic," an- 
 swered Wheaton. " I'll ask for your immediate ex- 
 change, but, meantime, why not make yourself com- 
 fortable? I'll gladly share my quarters with you, 
 if you feel indisposed to accept the Bufords' hos- 
 pitality longer." 
 
 " Thank you from my heart, Wheaton," and I laid 
 my hand upon his arm in grateful affection. " You 
 British are good fellows, as well as brave and gen- 
 erous enemies; would there had never been cause of 
 quarrel between us. But my resolution is taken; to 
 prison I will go till exchanged. Will you be so 
 good as to consider me your prisoner, and to send 
 me under guard to your most comfortable resort 
 for the enemy? Here is my parole." 
 
 " Damn your foolishness, McElroy! I'll not 
 have your parole, nor will I send you to prison. If 
 you are set to do this absurd thing, and no doubt 
 you are, for you are as stubborn as as a Scotch 
 Irishman, and I know of no other breed of animal
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 123 
 
 worthy to be compared with him for that virtue, 
 march yourself over to the general prison, find a 
 cell, lock yourself in. and throw the key out of the 
 window." 
 
 I laughed, wrung Wheaton's hand in farewell, and 
 took his advice; except that I had no need to lock 
 myself in, the astonished prison officer doing that 
 for me with due courtesy. 
 
 My fare that day, and my couch that night were 
 as poor and as hard as my aroused conscience could 
 have suggested, but I took them as penance, and 
 almost with pleasure. The very next day, Wheaton 
 came to tell me that my exchange was, for the pres- 
 ent, refused on the ground that I knew too much 
 of the state of the defenses of Philadelphia ; but that 
 my parole was extended for a year, and I was re- 
 quested to return to my home until my exchange 
 could be allowed, as provisions were growing scarce, 
 and the feeding of prisoners had become well-nigh 
 impossible. 
 
 Unless exchanged in the meantime I could not bear 
 arms against the British under any circumstances for 
 six months, and I was not permitted to join my old 
 command under a fixed period of twelve months 
 from the first day of the present month. The terms 
 seemed to me unduly severe, but upon Wheaton's as- 
 surance that they were the best I could hope for, 
 I determined to accept them, and to start at once 
 for home. The last was no unwelcome prospect, 
 more than two years having expired, since I had seen 
 the dear valley and the faces of loved ones. 
 
 I had still a dozen gold sovereigns in my pocket 
 fruits of the last game of Hazard I had played
 
 124 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 and Wheaton assisted me in buying that afternoon, 
 a sorrel horse, a saddle, and a pair of saddle pockets 
 which I stocked with a bottle of rum, a package of 
 biscuits, and a change of garments. By sunrise next 
 morning, equipped with proper passports, my parole, 
 and a pistol, presented to me by Wheaton, I rode 
 southward to the Virginia border line; then de- 
 flected my course eastward, towards Williamsburg. 
 
 Governor Henry was an acquaintance of my 
 father and a warm friend of Colonel Morgan. 
 It might be worth my while to ask his influence in 
 securing my early exchange, and to let him under- 
 stand how irksome to me were the terms of my pa- 
 role. When so many were ready to shirk there were 
 those who would ask nothing better than an honor- 
 able excuse to stay at home. I would see Governor 
 Henry, and ask that he transfer me to some frontier 
 service where at least I could help defend the Vir- 
 ginia border against Indians, during the months of 
 forced inactivity against the British.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 It will doubtless seem a matter for wonderment 
 to those who may read this chronicle, that it was 
 no more difficult, in those days, to secure an inter- 
 view with the Governor of the State of Virginia 
 than with any other gentleman in the Common- 
 wealth. The morning after my arrival in Williams- 
 burg, I betook myself to the Governor's mansion, 
 clanged the iron knocker, and was shown by the 
 negro doorkeeper straight into the Governor's office. 
 He sat before a square deal table, littered with doc- 
 uments, inkhorns, and the like, while under his hand, 
 on a small tray, lay a pile of letters, one of which 
 he was engaged in deciphering. I made my bow in 
 the doorway, and with my cocked hat upon my heart, 
 after the latest manner, announced myself: 
 
 " Your Honor's most obedient servant, sir! My 
 name is Donald McElroy, late captain in Colonel 
 Morgan's rifle company." 
 
 Governor Henry rose and came to meet me, a 
 friendly smile upon his lean, dark, beak-nosed face, 
 his hand cordially outstretched. " Then you are 
 one of the notable marksmen who whipped us the 
 gallantly led English regulars at Freeman's Farm 
 closing thereby the trap in which Burgoyne was taken, 
 a few days later. Let me shake your hand, sir, and 
 thank you in the name of Virginia. Gates seems
 
 i26 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 minded to claim all the glory, and that asinine con- 
 gress still allows him to throw dust into their half 
 shut eyes. But, history, sir, will be no more de- 
 ceived than are General Washington, and others, 
 and the debt of honor due Colonel Morgan and 
 his riflemen will be paid in full by posterity, Captain 
 McElroy." 
 
 Governor Henry's manner of saying this had far 
 more effect than the mere words. His head went 
 up, and his whole face beamed with lively enthusi- 
 asm, while his deep voice rang thrillingly. Wheaton 
 had told me of Charles Fox, and how he made any 
 man think what he pleased, more by the kindling 
 power of his rich, finely modulated voice, than by 
 his logic, or bursts of eloquence. Now, I under- 
 stood what had seemed exaggeration in Wheaton; 
 now I knew why those simple words, eloquent only 
 with feeling, spoken by Mr. Henry before the Vir- 
 ginia assembly, at a surcharged moment, had set 
 them aflame with patriotic fervor. 
 
 So proud was I again of my recent service under 
 Morgan, that I forgot the depression and self-abase- 
 ment I had suffered these last few days, and found 
 it easy to sit down before Governor Henry, and give 
 him an account of all that had happened to me since 
 I was taken prisoner on the battle field of Chestnut 
 Hill leaving out, of course, the name of Nelly 
 Buford, and hiding as well as I could the part a 
 woman had played in my downfall. He guessed, I 
 thought, much of what I tried to conceal, though his 
 words in no way intimated that he did so. He told 
 me candidly, that he thought I had been wrong 
 to linger with my kind entertainers after my wound
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 127 
 
 was healed, but added this remark of sympathy 
 which warmed my heart anew: 
 
 " Yet, who knows but that I'd have done the same 
 in like circumstances. Your conduct, sir, was less 
 wise than natural. However, a whole year's ab- 
 sence from your command, without privilege of ex- 
 change, meantime, seems unwarranted by the harm 
 you may be able or inclined to do them." 
 
 I thanked Governor Henry for his sympathy, and 
 then unfolded to him my wish to spend this forced 
 interval of absence from the regular army in fron- 
 tier service, where I might still defend my state, and 
 wipe from my conscience the reproach of having 
 proved myself unworthy. 
 
 " If that be your wish, Captain," the governor 
 answered heartily, " I have in waiting the very serv- 
 ice you are looking for; and moreover, we sorely 
 need men for the enterprise as great a one and al- 
 most as difficult, to my thinking, as the undertaking 
 of Jason and his Argonauts. Have you ever 
 chanced to meet George Rogers Clark, one of the 
 pathfinders in the Kentucky wilderness, a friend of 
 Daniel Boone? " 
 
 " I have not had that honor, sir." 
 
 " Then it shall be yours, this evening, and an 
 honor you may well esteem it. He is yet a young 
 man, but he has the daring of a Cortez. He has 
 vast schemes abrewing which, if successful, mean 
 great things for Virginia, and timely aid to the cause. 
 His plans, however, are yet secret, and must remain 
 so, except in so far as he may see fit to enlighten 
 you should you enter his service. Meet him here 
 this evening, and, if Clark consents, you shall be
 
 128 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 present at our conference. I demand, you see, no 
 credentials. Most men I can read in an hour's talk; 
 and, moreover, I know the Scotch Irish breed 
 rugged, plain, a little hard and narrow, perhaps, but 
 also steadfast as the rocks which rib the mountains 
 they delight to dwell among." 
 
 " Though you but give proper praise to the wor- 
 thy breed from which you also have partly sprung, 
 Governor Henry, I still owe you warm thanks for 
 saying it," I answered; "yet with your permission 
 I'll leave my credentials for Mr. Clark's inspection," 
 and I took from my pocket my captain's commission, 
 a personal letter from General Arnold, commending 
 my bravery at Freeman's Farm, and a copy of one 
 written my father by Captain Morgan. 
 
 Impatiently I awaited the chance to learn more of 
 this great adventure, and not a moment behind the 
 hour named, presented myself. Yet Clark was be- 
 fore me. The first look into each other's eyes 
 fixed, I think, our mutual confidence, and with our 
 first handclasp began a life long friendship. 
 
 George Rogers Clark had the look and bearing 
 of a man born for deeds of great emprise. He was 
 half an inch taller than I, measuring in his mocca- 
 sins six feet three and a half inches, and not one of 
 Morgan's riflemen was tougher of muscle, suppler 
 of limb. His face, lighted with glowing brown eyes, 
 was singularly handsome, at once winning and com- 
 manding. It indicated a lofty mind, and a sweet 
 nature, but also a reckless boldness of disposition. 
 Better than all, for the fulfilling of his purposes, 
 there was boundless confidence in himself and his 
 resources, and a buoyant hopefulness of disposition;
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 129 
 
 and these were united with a daring will which but 
 strengthened under difficulty. 
 
 " Captain McElroy, I introduce you to Captain 
 George Rogers Clark. He is quite ready to take 
 you into his service if you can promise to join him 
 heart and soul in this bold enterprise he is deter- 
 mined upon," said Governor Henry. 
 
 " Yes, Captain McElroy," and Clark grasped my 
 hand, bestowing his winning smile upon me. " I am 
 satisfied that I can trust you, and you may be of 
 great assistance to me. Could you enlist forty or 
 fifty volunteers in your valley, think you? " 
 
 " If there be left that many able bodied men, if 
 the service be one of Virginia's need or honor, and 
 there be no rumor of an Indian uprising afloat." 
 
 " Our enterprise will put an end to all fear of 
 Indian forays, by driving them to the Mississippi. 
 Our nominal purpose, indeed, is to turn back the 
 gathering forces of the Northwest savages, who are 
 planning a surprise for Bonnesville, Harrodsburg 
 and Logan's Fort, and who, after devastating Vir- 
 ginia's outposts, expect to over-run your valley, and 
 exterminate the settlements of the Blue Ridge. 
 Now, while all the able bodied men are engaged in 
 the war upon the coast, is the red man's last oppor- 
 tunity to regain his lost hunting ground. Does the 
 plan to meet them more than half way, to do our- 
 selves the surprise act, appeal to you, Captain Mc- 
 Elroy? Is it likely to appeal to your neighbors in 
 the valley?" 
 
 " Next to fighting our invaders, it is the service 
 I shall like best, Captain Clark; and there are those 
 of my neighbors more likely to respond to this call
 
 130 DONALD McELROY 
 
 upon their rifles than to any other. The happy re- 
 sults of Point Pleasant have taught us 'tis best not 
 to wait for the savages, but to go to meet them." 
 
 " That's encouraging talk, Captain," and Clark's 
 voice rang more heartily, and his face sparkled with 
 animation and humor, " and you may be doubly 
 grateful before we see the end of our expedition; 
 though we go against the Indians, and shall cheer- 
 fully fight them if there be need, our real object " 
 his voice sank to a whisper " is to strike the forts 
 at Kaskaskia and Vincennes. They are weakly gar- 
 risoned and unsuspecting, and their French inhabit- 
 ants, I hear, are much disaffected to British rule. 
 We have but need to appear before them with a 
 small, resolute, well-armed force to compel capitu- 
 lation, after which we can form alliance with the 
 French, intimidate the Indians, and claim all the 
 Ohio Valley as Virginia territory. By doing so we 
 will not only more than double the dominion of our 
 State, and give a blow to autocratic power, but will 
 secure safety to the pioneers of Virginia and Ken- 
 tucky, and save from butchery many a helpless 
 family." 
 
 " But my parole, Governor Henry," I said, turn- 
 ing to him with rueful countenance. 
 
 " You are not violating its terms, Captain McEl- 
 roy, by accepting service with Clark, since there's 
 small chance of a clash with the British before your 
 parole has expired." 
 
 " Then what can I do, Captain Clark, to forward 
 your bold enterprise? " I said, turning again eagerly 
 to my new leader. 
 
 " First you can sit here and listen, while Mr. Jef-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 131 
 
 ferson, Mr. Wythe, Mr. Mason, Governor Henry 
 and I devise ways and means that will make known 
 to you the details of our plan. You can then hasten 
 home to enlist men for an advance against the In- 
 dians. Later " 
 
 " That's Jefferson's voice now," interrupted the 
 Governor, " and the others are with him," and 
 hastening to the street door with a flaring candle in 
 his hand, he lighted the group through the passage 
 way to our presence. 
 
 Mr. Jefferson had once dined at our house, and 
 I remembered him as an elegant and gracious gen- 
 tleman, though somewhat over dignified and sen- 
 tentious. Colonel Mason, and the learned and able 
 Wythe, I saw now for the first time. Since he had 
 written our " Declaration of Independence " Mr. 
 Jefferson's fame was world-wide, and Colonel 
 Mason, as the author of our " Bill of Rights," and 
 our State's Constitution, was not less favorably, 
 though perhaps less widely, known; while Mr. 
 Wythe's reputation as jurist had already extended 
 beyond America. 
 
 As behooved in such company, I was a silent 
 listener, learning much of Colonel Clark's plans, and 
 even more of the difficulties in the way of them. It 
 seemed to me a rash and dangerous undertaking but 
 not without chance of success. 
 
 Governor Henry, I found, was not a whit behind 
 Clark in zeal for the enterprise; nor was Mr. Jef- 
 ferson much less ready to give the plan full counte- 
 nance, though he did not expect from the expedition, 
 even if successful, the vast results that Clark reck- 
 oned upon so confidently. Mr. Wythe showed the
 
 i 3 2 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 caution to have been expected from his calm and 
 logical mind, suggesting difficulties at every turn, 
 and urging forethought in the plans, while Colonel 
 Mason spoke infrequently and with less of flowing 
 readiness than any of the others, but most pointedly 
 and justly, first on the side of caution, and then on 
 the side of boldness, as Clark's enthusiasm and 
 strongly presented arguments gradually won him 
 to our side. 
 
 Governor Henry's fiat had already gone forth, 
 nor could he be persuaded to modify it, that the men 
 for the expedition must be drawn from the counties 
 west of the mountains. If the seven companies, of 
 fifty men each, which was the minimum force de- 
 manded by Clark, could be raised in the counties of 
 Frederick, Augusta, and Fincastle, Clark was wel- 
 come to enlist and use them otherwise the under- 
 taking must be given up. But Clark was no wise 
 minded to give up and, after accepting the Gov- 
 ernor's terms, turned to me to know what I thought 
 might be done toward raising a company in Augusta. 
 
 " It has been more than two years since I left 
 home," I answered, " and I cannot speak with as- 
 surance, but I believe one or more companies of fifty 
 might be raised, if I am allowed to say that the set- 
 tlements in Kentucky are threatened, and that our 
 object is to turn back an Indian invasion." 
 
 " You can say that with truth, Captain McElroy. 
 I shall rely upon you for at least one company." 
 
 " I'll do my best, Captain Clark. I continue my 
 journey homeward to-morrow, and shall begin the 
 work of enlistment at once." 
 
 " You ride my way, Captain McElroy, I think,"
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 133 
 
 said Mr. Jefferson pleasantly, " and I also go to- 
 morrow; with your consent we'll keep each other 
 company." 
 
 I thanked him, and we fixed sun rise as the hour 
 for our departure from the Bell Tavern. 
 
 " You are the son of Justice McElroy, of the 
 Stone Church neighborhood, I suppose, Captain? 
 The name is not a common one even in your valley 
 of Macs." 
 
 " I am his only son, sir." 
 
 " Once when you were a lad I dined at your 
 house; you scarcely remember the occasion, I sup- 
 pose? " 
 
 " Perfectly, sir, and I should have recognized you 
 anywhere. We cherish with pride the memory of 
 your visit." 
 
 Mr. Jefferson was evidently pleased few men 
 are so great as to be indifferent to appreciation. 
 
 " By the way, Clark," continued Mr. Jefferson, 
 " the ex-scout hermit we were talking of this morn- 
 ing lives on McElroy's direct homeward route, near 
 the top of the south slope of the mountain between 
 Monticello and Staunton. It might be well to en- 
 gage McElroy to see him ; that would save delay and 
 me a journey at a busy season." 
 
 " I am at your service, Mr. Jefferson," spoke I. 
 Then made my bow and left them. They might 
 wish to talk matters over before taking me further 
 into their confidence.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 That ride with Mr. Jefferson, and the day I spent 
 at Monticello, have still a pleasant flavor in retro- 
 spect. Mr. Jefferson's urbanity matched his de- 
 lightful conversation, and my pleasure in his conde- 
 scension and his intellectual charm gave him evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Part of our way lay through the forest, and one 
 could hear the oozing sap, mounting upward into 
 the yet leafless branches interlaced above us. The 
 graceful, clean-limbed maples had strung themselves 
 with strand after strand of glowing coral leaf buds, 
 and the white trunked cotton woods were hung 
 thickly with a soft pinkish brown fringe, while each 
 branch of the laurel, the dogwood and the ivy shrubs 
 bulged with close folded gray green buds big with 
 promise of leaf and blossom. The rich loam under 
 our horses' feet was cracked open here and there, 
 making tiny winrows of the rotted leaves, where 
 reawakened roots of fern or flower were pushing 
 upward with divine instinct for life and sunshine. 
 From sunny dell's slope, and the southern side of 
 oak and locust trees, rose nature's incense the 
 breath of purple violets, of white anemones, and 
 flushed arbutus blossoms, floating intermittently 
 upon the whimsical zephyrs of a balmy day in 
 March.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 135 
 
 Sudden bursts of rapture, or shrill, happy calls 
 from vibrant throats of robin, and wren, cat bird 
 and oriole, red bird and yellow hammer, mocking 
 bird and blue jay, rang from treetop to treetop, and 
 the fluttering of busy wings, and the important chir- 
 ruping and twittering of the nest builders, told that 
 the birds, too, recognized the many hints of coming 
 spring, and were all of a spirit with the mounting 
 sap, and the promise-breathing perfume of violet 
 and arbutus buds. 
 
 We talked of farming and gardening, upon which 
 subject Mr. Jefferson had gathered much valuable 
 information. From horticulture we drifted to 
 books, and the writers of them. It pleased me to 
 find that, as far as my limited reading had gone, our 
 tastes were similar. He preferred the Greeks and 
 Greek literature to the Romans and their writings. 
 He admired Demosthenes, Thucydides, and Homer; 
 Tacitus and Horace were his favorites among the 
 Latins; and when we came to English writers, he 
 also gave first place to Dryden, Milton, Pope and 
 Ossian among the poets, to Bacon, Hume and Addi- 
 son among prose writers. Finding I knew nothing 
 of French, Italian or German literatures, he barely 
 mentioned Moliere, Racine, Petrarch, Tasso and 
 Goethe. Yet his mere word of appreciation kindled 
 my resolution to know these masters, when peace 
 and a quiet life should give me opportunity. 
 
 My liking for Ossian seemed to delight Mr. Jef- 
 ferson, and he quoted freely from his poems, saying, 
 with warmth, that he thought " this rude bard of 
 the North the greatest of poets." 
 
 " Then, sir, you give no credence to the charge of
 
 136 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 the English critics, that there was never any other 
 Ossian than his pretended translator? " 
 
 " No, I do not ! " answered Mr. Jefferson emphat- 
 ically, then proceeded to give me cogent reasons to 
 back his opinion. 
 
 The urgency of Mr. Jefferson's invitation to stop 
 a day at Monticello was not to be resisted, nor was 
 my inclination far behind the courtesy of my host. 
 The early morning was spent about the beautifully 
 turfed and planted grounds, and the carefully culti- 
 vated gardens. I was even allowed to look over 
 the garden books, as accurate as algebraic demon- 
 strations, and as neat as copy books. Horses were 
 then ordered for a ride over the plantation. Mr. 
 Jefferson scanned their satiny coats with critical eye, 
 rubbed a single rough spot on his own mount with 
 his handkerchief, and showing the black groom who 
 held the impatient steed's bridle the dust stain made 
 upon it, gave him a sharp reprimand. We got back 
 in time for a glass of Scotch rum and hot water, 
 seasoned with nutmeg, before dinner. A second 
 ride to Charlottesville in the afternoon, to procure 
 the mail and attend to some matter of business, 
 seemed necessary to Mr. Jefferson's indefatigable 
 energy. 
 
 Mrs. Jefferson gave us her charming company in 
 the evening, and some excellent music with voice and 
 spinet, after which I was so fortunate as to be able 
 to entertain her by an account of the Philadelphia 
 performance of " A School for Scandal," with a few 
 quotations from the text since they had not yet 
 had the opportunity to read any of Mr. Sheridan's 
 plays.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 137 
 
 Though Mr. Jefferson had given me most minute 
 directions, I came near losing the trail to the 
 right, half way up the mountain which was to 
 lead me to the hermit's retreat. One of the giant 
 sentinel maples, which marked the entrance to the 
 trail, had recently blown down, and its sprawling 
 branches completely hid the path. A double log 
 cabin, built in a dent of the mountain's southern 
 slope, was the old scout's home. The forest clus- 
 tered about it protectingly, except for a clearing a 
 few yards wide just in front of the door, and no 
 other than wild growth was anywhere visible. Two 
 yelping dogs came from the doorway at the sound 
 of my horse's feet, followed closely by the hermit 
 himself. 
 
 " Light, stranger, an' hitch," he called, pointing 
 to the nearest tree trunk. 
 
 I did so, while he leisurely approached, a short 
 stemmed cob pipe in his mouth, his hands pushed 
 deep into the pockets of his homespun breeches. 
 His hunting shirt was also of homespun; his leggins, 
 belt, and moccasins of leather; and the cap which 
 surmounted his face so covered with beard that a 
 pair of heavy browed, keen brown eyes, and a large 
 crooked nose were the only features visible was 
 made of deerskin. Though hair and beard were 
 grizzled, he showed no signs of age in figure or 
 bearing. Within the cabin's wide chimney a fire 
 smoldered, and a rough bench was drawn up before 
 it. Seated and served with tobacco for my pipe, 
 I unfolded my mission. 
 
 " Thar' ain't no two men nowhares I'd ruther 
 pleasure thin Pat Henry en' George Clark," said the
 
 138 DONALD McELROY 
 
 scout, " en' I 'low I'm the man they er' lookin' fur. 
 I knows them Algonquins, en'.ther savage ways, en' 
 ther heathen talk better'n menny." 
 
 " Governor Henry and Mr. Clark say they cannot 
 do without you, and Mr. Jefferson bade me tell you 
 to come to Monticello this week to give him your 
 promise." 
 
 " Thar' ain't but one thing es'll hinder me but 
 thet's 'nuff. I see no way er promisin' jist now, 
 Cap'n but I'll see Mr. Jefferson afore I sez no. 
 You coulden' nohow mention no kind uv frolic, nur 
 no feastin' nur pleasuring es temptin' ter me, Capt'n, 
 es killin' Injuns. The way I hates the redskins 
 mought be counted es hell-desarvin' sin, Capt'n, but 
 fur the fact thet they's devils en' hes devils' ways, 
 en' the Holy Word commands us ter hate the devil 
 and all his wurrucks. Did Mr. Henry ur Clark tell 
 yer the old scout's story, Capt'n? " 
 
 Just then my eye was drawn to the crack in the 
 door, between the two rooms, by hearing the swish- 
 ering as of a woman's skirts, and a soft tread upon 
 the planks, and I was much astonished to see what 
 seemed to me the shadow of a woman's form. The 
 scout, too, looked up, then drew his brow into a half 
 worried frown. I had not heard of a wife or a 
 daughter; indeed, had understood that the hermit 
 lived entirely alone, so was greatly surprised. 
 Something in the scout's manner led me to think, 
 however, that he did not care to be questioned, so 
 I made haste to withdraw my eyes and to answer his 
 question in the negative. 
 
 " Wall, ef you kin bide er spell longer you shell 
 hear the pitiful tale " said the old man with a sigh
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 139 
 
 " en' er sadder, I 'low you've seldom hearn, even 
 in this land uv sorrowful stories en' terrurble suf- 
 ferin's." 
 
 " Then without doubt your opportunity has 
 come," said I when the tale was ended; "nor do I 
 wonder you hate the Indians," and I wrung his hand. 
 " But I must say good-by now, and ride on. I hope 
 you will decide to join us, as your not doing so will 
 be a serious Joss to our expedition." 
 
 " I'll see, I'll see. Ther temptation to fight Injun 
 devils is not one I'm likely ter resist; yit thar's rea- 
 sons, serious reasons," and he lowered his voice, 
 looked grave, and watched the crack in the door be- 
 tween the two rooms as he gripped my hand in fare- 
 well. 
 
 A mile farther down the mountain a sudden 
 crackling in the bushes at one side caused my horse 
 to snort and sniff suspiciously. But I had no time 
 now to track wild beast, or snare game, for it was 
 already midday, and I must reach Staunton, if not 
 home, that night. As I rode on I thought much of 
 the scout's sad story, and pitied his bereaved and 
 lonely condition. But could he be a hypocrite pos- 
 ing for sympathy? Surely that was a woman's form 
 which flitted before the partly open door, yet he had 
 let fall no hint of having any companion of his soli- 
 tude, and I knew of no neighbors nearer than the 
 dwellers on the plantations around Charlottesville.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 The realization that before another sunset I 
 should be at home, should take mother, grand- 
 mother, and little Jean in my arms, clasp my father's 
 hand and meet his welcoming eye, thrilled me with 
 a joyous excitement such as I had not felt since, 
 nearly three years before, I had led my squad of 
 recruits out of the valley. 
 
 The road between the foot of the mountain and 
 Staunton seemed elastic as if it stretched as I 
 traveled it. Not for six months now had I heard 
 from home. The last letter had been brought me 
 by a recruit from our valley, before the fight at 
 Chestnut Hill, and was then several weeks old. It 
 told of my grandmother's gradually failing strength, 
 of Aunt Martha's increasing vexation with still un- 
 conquered Ellen, of Jean's rapid development into 
 womanhood; of my mother's good health and fa- 
 ther's continued vigor; also of the fine crops har- 
 vested during the year, and sold at good prices, after 
 a generous proportion had been given to help load 
 the wagon train sent from the valley to help to feed 
 General Washington's army. There were, also, bits 
 of local news and gossip most interesting to me. 
 
 A chill, misty March drizzle came on with the 
 twilight, my steed drooped his head wearily, and 
 lifted his feet with mechanical, springless effort.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 141 
 
 " Poor tired beast," I said, patting his flanks, 
 " we'll stop this night in Staunton, and you shall 
 have supper and stable if there's a barn left in the 
 town." He appeared to understand my promise, 
 for his gait quickened, his head was lifted hopefully, 
 and a moment later, as a turn in the highway re- 
 vealed the lighted windows of the town, he uttered 
 a low, thankful nicker. 
 
 " If William Allen or John Walker is at home, 
 we'll not lack a welcome," I added, giving him a 
 second encouraging pat. Both these lads they 
 were men now, of course had been mates of mine 
 at " the academy," and 'twas Allen to whom I made 
 gift of my books when I went home to enlist. 
 Walker's house was the first reached and, leaving 
 my horse before the gate, I rapped loudly with the 
 hilt of my sword upon the door. It was opened 
 somewhat cautiously, and Elder Walker's voice en- 
 quired peremptorily, " Who's without? " 
 
 " An old school mate of your son John's, Donald 
 McElroy." 
 
 " What ! Captain McElroy, whom family and 
 friends have mourned as dead these six months past? 
 Come in, lad, come in!" and the door was flung 
 wide open. " You'll be chilled to the bone in that 
 drenching drizzle, and your horse likewise. 
 John! John! Here's an old school friend! Call 
 the niggers, wife ! Send one of them round for 
 Captain McElroy's horse, and have on another back 
 log! Bring out the rum and the peach brandy! 
 The son of William McElroy would be welcome 
 under all circumstances, but coming from the dead, 
 as it were, and covered with honor, doubtless,
 
 142 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 why, there's nothing in the town good enough for 
 him." 
 
 The house was abustle by this time, negroes run- 
 ning to and fro, Mrs. Walker and John overwhelm- 
 ing me with welcoming attention, and the Elder 
 alternately rattling the decanters and glasses, and 
 ringing the heavy iron poker against the massive 
 brass andirons, as he vigorously punched the logs 
 into a brisker blaze. I had half forgotten the 
 warmth and heartiness of a Scotch Irish welcome, 
 and my eyes filled with tears at the familiar sound 
 of it all, and the sight of John's kind, homely face 
 wreathed with glad smiles. 
 
 How pleasant the flavor of the oily peach brandy, 
 how genial the blaze of the hickory logs, how good 
 to hear the rich voices and the slight accent, as they 
 called over familiar names and faces, and told me 
 the valley news ! 
 
 " Are they all well at home? " was my first ques- 
 tion. 
 
 " All well, the last we heard, and your father con- 
 tinues to be one of the most prosperous and re- 
 spected men in the county, and your mother the best 
 o*f housewives. Little Jean has grown into a beauty, 
 and your father has built a big new barn, and is 
 burning brick for a spacious dwelling to take the 
 place of the old cabin," answered the Elder loqua- 
 ciously, while Mrs. Walker superintended the maid 
 Jinsey, serving me, upon a folding table placed at 
 my elbow, a cavalry man's lunch which means 
 enough for three. 
 
 " And they thought me dead, Elder? " 
 
 " They feared it, lad, having heard that you fell
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 143 
 
 wounded on the field at Chestnut Hill, were taken 
 prisoner, and carried to the prison hospital in Phila- 
 delphia death traps they are said to be. Your 
 father hopes still, but your mother greets sair, and 
 fears the very worst." 
 
 It was not easy to get away from my entertain- 
 ers the next morning, but I was eager to be at home, 
 and managed to be off by half past ten, despite their 
 urgent hospitality, and their disinclination to have 
 my horse brought around. 
 
 " It was communion Sabbath at the Stone Church," 
 the Elder had insisted, " and my whole family 
 would, without doubt, spend the day at the services ; 
 so I might as well take dinner with them, and ride 
 home in the afternoon." 
 
 But " No," I said; " I would ride on to the church, 
 hear part of the sermon, find my people, and take 
 them home with me at the recess between the morn- 
 ing and afternoon service." 
 
 Elder Walker was one of those who had gone off 
 to form a new congregation at Tinkling Spring, and 
 I gathered from his talk that the feud caused by a 
 secession of a part of the congregation had not yet 
 abated. Between my Uncle Thomas and Elder 
 Walker this split in the congregation had given rise 
 to a lasting bitterness, and during all our conversa- 
 tion my Uncle Thomas' name was not mentioned. 
 
 Every rod of the way, from the town to the 
 church, was marked with memories for me. I 
 smiled at the recollection of the squirrel I had caught 
 in the top branches of a. certain gnarled old oak; 
 of the deer I had shot, as it bounded across the 
 branch in yonder meadow; of the strawberries I had
 
 144 DONALD McELROY 
 
 gathered from the sunny hillsides. Wrapped in 
 these recollections of a happy boyhood, I rode on, 
 as in a dream, and came at last with the surprise 
 of suddenness, upon the old church. 
 
 One might have supposed that a cavalry company 
 was bivouacked in the grove, from the horses hitched 
 to every tree and shrub, and the illusion would only 
 be strengthened upon closer view, by the rude but 
 strong fortifications encircling the building. How 
 vividly came back the sounds and scenes of the 
 Indian raid! especially the erect form and inspired 
 face of old Parson Craig, addressing " his lads," 
 in the spirit of a Spartan leader. Years before 
 this intrepid man of God had gone to his reckoning, 
 and I had no doubt as to the side of the account 
 on which he had found that Mosaic charge he had 
 given us to " slay and spare not." 
 
 But the sounds issuing that March morning from 
 the closed doors of the old church were sounds of 
 Christian harmony and pious rejoicing. The con- 
 gregation was singing one of Rouse's paraphrases 
 as I pushed the door open gently, and glided into 
 the vacant pew against the wall. Not a head was 
 turned, so engrossed were they all in worship, save 
 those of two or three restless children. I drew 
 myself close in the shadow of a pillar, and listened 
 with glad and thankful heart to the singing. This 
 was the psalm, and the words were set to one of 
 those solemn, grand old tunes, which rolled so deep 
 and full from the throats of big chested, earnest men, 
 and devout women, that no accompaniment of in- 
 struments, such as the modern music is said to re- 
 quire, was needed.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 145 
 
 " O praise the Lord, for He is good, 
 His mercy lasteth ever, 
 Let those of Israel now say 
 His mercy faileth never. 
 Let those who fear the Lord now say 
 His mercy faileth never." 
 
 I thought I recognized the full tones of my father's 
 voice and my emotions almost choked me. 
 
 The instant the minister rose to give out his text, 
 I knew him to be Parson Waddell the eloquent, 
 blind preacher of Hanover, who more than once had 
 been described to me, though never before had I seen 
 him, or heard him preach. That long, lank form; 
 that thin face, and high, bald forehead, from which 
 the long gray locks flowed backward; those fixed, 
 open eyes, so evidently sightless; those long, rest- 
 less arms, and hands, trembling with palsy that 
 ensemble could be no other than Parson Waddell 
 the pulpit orator of America during his generation, 
 and one who has been seldom equaled in any age or 
 country. 
 
 I cannot now recall the words of his text, nor their 
 exact place in the Bible, only that it was some pas- 
 sage in the description of the passion of our Lord. 
 This I remember well, that from the first sentence 
 uttered by that mellifluous and feeling voice, I for- 
 got everything but the scene he depicted, which scene 
 I saw as 'twere passing before me. I agonized with 
 Jesus in the garden; flamed with Peter's anger, when 
 he struck off the ear of the servant of the high priest; 
 followed, weeping, afar with the other disciples; 
 burned with indignation against Christ's accusers 
 and torturers ; heard Pilate's decision, and the High
 
 146 DONALD McELROY 
 
 Priest's sentence, with the despairing astonishment 
 of His followers; grew sick and tremulous with sym- 
 pathy as His bleeding form, weighted with the cross, 
 struggled up Calvary; and my very soul was over- 
 whelmed in horror and amaze, as I saw His broken 
 body hanging upon the cross, scorned, reviled, His 
 sacred head crowned with thorns, His sacred side 
 pierced by the soldier's spear. As the preacher 
 went on to depict Jesus' agony of spirit, when He 
 felt Himself deserted by His Father, and uttered 
 that piercing cry, " Eli, Eli, lama Sabachthani? " my 
 every nerve was strung to its tightest tension, and my 
 throat became so rigid that the moans which came 
 from my heart could find no utterance. The entire 
 congregation was moved almost as I was. 
 
 From Dr. Waddell's sightless eyes tears streamed 
 like rain, and his utterances were almost choked by 
 the heartfelt emotion which moved him. At last he 
 was forced to pause and to cover his face with his 
 trembling hands. For an instant the deep silence 
 over all the church was broken only by low sobs and 
 stifled moans. 
 
 Presently Dr. Waddell lifted up a face, wet with 
 tears, straightened slowly his tall, gaunt form, lifted 
 his left arm with solemn impressiveness, and point- 
 ing and looking upward, with a gesture of indescrib- 
 able faith and assurance, said, in tones which rang 
 in glad triumph, though an echo of the recent sobs 
 of penitence still lingered in them, 
 
 " Friends Socrates died like a philosopher, 
 Jesus Christ like a God." 
 
 The effect was marvelous. The moans and the 
 sobbing ceased, and all over the church men, women,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 147 
 
 and children bowed their heads, and wept tears of 
 thankfulness, while the preacher went on to describe 
 the last scenes of the crucifixion : the rent veil of 
 the temple, the darkness, the earthquake, the terror 
 of the soldiers divine signs that no mere man, but 
 the Son of God Himself had here offered up His 
 life a free sacrifice to satisfy Divine justice. 
 
 When the invitation had been given to the cele- 
 bration of the Lord's Supper, and while the com- 
 municants were taking their places at the long tables 
 spread in the aisles, which formed a cross, another 
 psalm was sung. During its singing I slipped un- 
 heeded from the church, and walked back and forth 
 under the trees, my soul more moved than ever it 
 had been before. That hour I gave my heart, and 
 my life to Christ, making solemn vow that from 
 henceforth I would take my place, as my heritage 
 and baptism, gave me right at God's Table; that 
 I would no longer be one of those to scorn so mighty 
 a sacrifice, to refuse so priceless a redemption. 
 There, under the trees, I knelt and consecrated all 
 my future to God's service. 
 
 The very day seemed set apart by this solemn re- 
 solve, and now I did not wish to greet my family 
 before the congregation. So I got on my horse 
 and rode homeward. 
 
 At the bars which led from the highway across 
 my Uncle Thprnas Mitchell's fields to his house, 
 stood my Cousin Thomas, half leaning on the stile. 
 His gaze was fixed upon some distant object, and 
 though he answered my greeting, as I halted before 
 him, there was neither interest nor curiosity in his 
 listless manner.
 
 148 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " You do not know me, Thomas," I said. 
 
 " Can it be Donald McElroy? " and he was in- 
 terested enough now, his face aglow with pleasure. 
 " We had given you up for dead in Philadelphia 
 prison, Donald," and almost before I was off my 
 horse he had his arms about me, and was hugging 
 me as if I had been his mother. 
 
 It did not take long to tell him so much of my 
 story as was needful he should know at once, and 
 then I began to put questions. 
 
 " Are all well at home, Tom? " 
 
 " Yes, all well." 
 
 " Then dear grandmother has recovered from 
 her illness; I'm glad to know that." 
 
 " And you have not heard, Donald? You do not 
 know that grandmother has been dead these five 
 months. But there, cousin," putting a comforting 
 arm about me, " don't grieve for her; she went joy- 
 ously, her one regret being that she could not see 
 you once more on earth." 
 
 " And mother has stood it bravely? " 
 
 " Yes, and is if anything, kinder than before, but 
 she grieves all the time about you. The only thing 
 that keeps her in heart is your father's confidence in 
 your coming. He looks for you every day, or for 
 good news of you." 
 
 " And does little Jean believe that I am dead? " 
 
 " Oh, no ; she agrees stoutly with Uncle William, 
 and watches the road for you, each evening." 
 
 " She is almost grown now? " 
 
 " Quite grown up, and the prettiest, sweetest lass 
 in the valley now Ellen's gone," and Thomas 
 sighed deeply and fixed his eyes upon the hills again.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 149 
 
 "Ellen gone? What mean you, Thomas? 
 Where would she go? I thought she had no other 
 relatives." 
 
 " She has no others, and we do not know where 
 she is. Three months ago she disappeared my 
 mother was harsh with her, and Ellen would not 
 brook it. One night she slipped from her bed, took 
 father's riding horse from the stable, and rode away. 
 Three days later the horse came back, saddled and 
 bridled, but we have never heard a word of Ellen, 
 nor had a clew as to her whereabouts. Perhaps the 
 horse threw and killed her; perhaps wild beasts de- 
 voured her; perhaps she was captured by Indians. 
 My mother says she is hiding somewhere to spite 
 us, and hardens her heart against grieving for her; 
 but father and I keep up constant search and in- 
 quiry for her. 
 
 " Meantime, Donald, our peace is gone, and our 
 home is disgraced. We have driven the orphan, 
 and one of our own blood, forth into the wilderness, 
 to perish by savages or by wild beasts yet we 
 boast our religion, pray our prayers, sing our psalms, 
 and blame harshly the intolerance of the established 
 church, and the tyranny of the British! Do you 
 wonder that I'm half Tory, and whole heretic, Don- 
 ald? at war with my race, my religion, and my 
 family?" 
 
 "Then you loved Ellen O'Niel, Thomas?" I 
 said, coming to the prompt conclusion that such mor- 
 bid vehemence could spring but from one root. 
 
 " Yes, Donald, I loved her, and will always love 
 her or her memory, more than aught else in the 
 world. It was, I think, the suspicion that I was
 
 150 DONALD McELROY 
 
 growing to love Ellen, and the fear of her influence 
 over me, that made my mother more and more harsh 
 to her. She is beginning, however, to find out that 
 if I have lost Ellen, she has lost a son, and what 
 is more to her, I think, the church has lost a preacher. 
 She thought I would soon get over it, but now she 
 is beginning to worry about it, and to wish me to 
 find Ellen. I care little any more; however, moth- 
 er's worries are her chief sources of happiness." 
 
 " I do not believe Ellen is dead, Thomas," I said, 
 ignoring his disrespect to his mother. " Either she 
 is hiding somewhere, as Aunt Martha surmises, or 
 she has been carried off by the Indians. In either 
 case, Thomas, we'll find her, for I intend to join 
 you in the search, and will not give up 'till we have 
 a sure clew. Don't let it trouble you so, laddie, but 
 cheer up and expect good news every day as father 
 has done. And I'm sorry, Thomas, to hear you ex- 
 press yourself so bitterly against religion on this 
 day of all others when for the first time I have 
 felt the influence of converting grace," and then I 
 told him of Parson Waddell's sermon, and my re- 
 solve to be a Christian. 
 
 Thomas was moved, I could see, but he held 
 firmly to his latest view, that religion in most people 
 was naught but fanaticism, and Presbyterianism a 
 narrowing creed. " If ever I find Ellen alive," he 
 concluded, " I shall become a Catholic and marry 
 her. Should I be assured of her death I shall go 
 west as pioneer or scout or else turn monk." 
 
 " I can offer you a better career than either of 
 those," I replied, laying my hand on his arm, and 
 speaking cheerfully, " and not only a fine career, but,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 151 
 
 if all our searching hereabouts fails, your best 
 chance to find Ellen. Come to see me, and we'll 
 talk it over." 
 
 At the first bend in the road, I turned to wave 
 to Thomas; he was stiU leaning dejectedly upon the 
 stile, his back to me, and his absent gaze fixed upon 
 the mountains. And now surprising thoughts and 
 feelings took possession of me. My sympathy for 
 Thomas was marred by sudden and unreasoning 
 jealousy. What right had he to fall in love with 
 Ellen O'Niel in my absence? Had she not shown 
 plainly enough her preference for me? He had 
 not been man enough to protect her from his moth- 
 er's tyranny, and yet he talked as presumptuously 
 of marrying her as if he had earned a right to her. 
 He had not even found her in all these weeks, and 
 was now hanging idly on his father's stile, whin- 
 ing, and uttering blasphemies. Find her and marry 
 her indeed! I'd find her myself, and, marry her, 
 too, if I pleased, for all he might say. Nor would 
 I turn Catholic and abuse my relatives, and the 
 religion of my fathers to win her; rather, I'd make 
 her see she had acted foolishly and teach her to 
 honor our creed, as I should honor hers. Ellen, I 
 plainly saw, had needed sympathy, and love, also 
 some one to show her the dangers of her own im- 
 petuous, and self-willed nature. 
 
 Thinking these thoughts, I put my horse to graze 
 in the meadow, and sat down on the porch, drink- 
 ing in, with profound content, the well remembered 
 prospect, and planning how I should search mi- 
 nutely all over the country for Ellen, and get together 
 my recruits for Clark's expedition at the same time.
 
 152 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 Then I fell to castle building, and it was Ellen, re- 
 stored to us with added beauty and a nobleness of 
 character developed by her trials, who was to lend 
 charm and grace to my " Castle in Spain." 
 
 Already I avoided thoughts of Nelly Buford, and 
 though they often forced themselves upon me, they 
 brought me always regret and mortification, mingled 
 still with a lively sense of her powers of fascination.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 The meeting with my parents has a place in my 
 memory so sacred that description seems desecra- 
 tion. My mother went white as the linen handker- 
 chief she wore, and with one sharp cry, "O! Wil- 
 liam, it is Donald, our son! Oh my laddie, my 
 laddie ! " fell into my outstretched arms, weeping 
 and laughing, in a violent hysteria of joy. 
 
 " There, there, Rachael, wife, don't take on so," 
 said my father. " Of course it's Donald ! You 
 know I've always said he was not dead; he's well 
 and strong, only broader and more manly looking," 
 and he took mother out of my arms, and began 
 to stroke her hair and to soothe her. 
 
 " And this is the little sister I left three years 
 ago " turning to Jean to hide my own emotion. 
 " I can hardly believe it, yet the eyes are the same," 
 and I kissed her and held her off to look at her, 
 saying teasingly, " Why, Jean, you are almost as 
 pretty as our mother." 
 
 " Do you hear th t, mother?" asked my father 
 in pleased tones. " Don hasn't forgotten his blar- 
 neying ways, either; just the same lad who went 
 away from us so many months ago." 
 
 Mother smiled at this, and ceased weeping, and 
 together we went joyfully into the big room, where 
 I was forced to turn aside to the window to blink 
 back the tears that welled up at the recollections
 
 154 DONALD McELROY 
 
 of my grandmother, which the familiar room with 
 her chair still in its place called forth. Not until 
 mother followed me to my room that night, to sit 
 on the side of my bed, as she used to do when I was 
 a little boy, did we talk of her. None of us wished 
 to dim the pure joy of our first hours together by 
 reference to our bereavement, and I had so much 
 to tell them, so many questions to answer. 
 
 Then, mother gave me a minute history of grand- 
 mother's last days. " You and I, dear daughter," 
 she had said to my mother, " will not for long be 
 separated; I am just gangin' on a little before you, 
 to make our real hame the mair ready for your 
 welcome, but Donald's a young man, and will live a 
 lang an' useful life, I trust. I should like to see 
 him once mair on earth, an' gie him my last message. 
 But since that could not be, Rachael, kiss him for 
 me, and tell him the message's just the verra same 
 as that I told him the day he held the last hank o' 
 yarn for me he'll not fail to remember, I'm sure." 
 
 Then I told my mother what it was grandmother 
 had said to me, and also of the resolution I had 
 made that day to live hereafter a Christian's life. 
 Mother wept with me, tears of joy mixed with tears 
 of regret that grandmother was not there to hear 
 the glad news. " I hope, dear Donald," she said, 
 as she kissed me good night, after the clock had 
 chimed the midnight hour, " that your dear grand- 
 mother in heaven knows of your conversion, and that 
 it adds to her perfect joy this day, as it has to mine." 
 
 I was too happy to go to sleep, my heart too full 
 of thankfulness and high resolve, to be willing to 
 waste the blessed moments in unconsciousness. So
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 155 
 
 I lay awake until daybreak, tasting with keener 
 and keener relish my new found holy joy. Then I 
 fell asleep, and slept so restfully that, after two 
 hours' repose, I awoke feeling as fresh as the robins, 
 caroling joyously in the branches of the elms that 
 shaded the eastern window of my room. 
 
 Mother seemed to avoid talking of Ellen. I 
 knew it was because she could not bear to blame 
 her sister, and yet she could not, in justice, exoner- 
 ate her ; but with father I discussed the matter freely. 
 He blamed Aunt Martha's severity, and had little 
 excuse to make for her : 
 
 " She was not only unsympathetic, and harsh with 
 the child," he said, " but, in all save blows, she was 
 cruel. She overworked her, and tried hard to break 
 her spirit. Many a child would have been driven 
 to lying, but Ellen was honest through all, if she 
 was at times defiant and disrespectful. I do not 
 blame her for running away; it is what any high 
 spirited lad would have done, long ago." 
 
 " Yes, father," I answered, " but Ellen, being a 
 girl, should have been more submissive to authority, 
 more meek it seems to me. Think what fearful 
 risks she took in running away." 
 
 " The very fact that a woman must take such 
 grave risks in pursuing any course of action not 
 countenanced by her lawful protectors, makes her 
 condition the more pitiable under oppression. Ellen 
 was completely in your aunt's power; no relief was 
 possible to her, save from some act of desperation 
 such as the one she was guilty of." 
 
 " Could she not have found refuge somewhere in 
 the neighborhood?"
 
 156 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " No one would have taken her in. It would not 
 do to encourage the child in disrespect and disobedi- 
 ence." 
 
 " What do you surmise has been her fate, 
 father? " with an effort to speak calmly. 
 
 " I think it most likely she has been carried off 
 by some band of roving Indians. She doubtless 
 tried to find her way back to Baltimore, lost her 
 way, and was picked up by the savages. She, I sur- 
 mise, watched the chance to turn the horse loose, 
 that he might find his way home." 
 
 " They would hardly kill her." 
 
 "No; more likely they have taken her to their 
 village, and are training her for a chief's squaw." 
 
 The thought blanched my cheek, and I resolved to 
 make inquiry and search from the crest of the Blue 
 Ridge all the way to the Mississippi, and not to re- 
 turn home till I had found Ellen, or had gotten 
 some clew to her fate. 
 
 " Uncle Thomas has searched the neighborhood 
 thoroughly you think? " 
 
 " He and Tom have made enquiry at every house 
 in the county, I am sure ; have sent to Charlottesville 
 and Richmond; written to Baltimore, and posted 
 notices at every store and cross roads between 
 here and Maryland. No, I think there's little 
 room for doubt that she's been carried west by 
 Indians." 
 
 " That's what I told Thomas, yesterday, and ad- 
 vised him that our best chance to find her was to go 
 with Clark on this expedition to the Kentucky border, 
 next month." 
 
 " What expedition, son? I had heard no rumor
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 157 
 
 of it and do you mean George Rogers Clark, 
 the Kentucky pioneer and friend of Daniel 
 Boone? " 
 
 " The very same, father, and a most remarkable 
 young man he is." Then I went on to tell of my 
 interview with Governor Henry, Captain Clark, Mr. 
 Jefferson and the rest, and of the service to which 
 I had engaged myself. 
 
 I saw at once that my father was not pleased, and 
 now for the first time, I felt the chilling influence of 
 his disapproval of my plans. He had never ap- 
 proved the forward movement into Kentucky, be- 
 lieving it to have been worked up by land companies, 
 that they might line their pockets at the expense of 
 the lives of the settlers. 
 
 " I have never grudged your services in the cause 
 of our independence, Donald," he said, " nor would 
 I your life even, were the sacrifice of it necessary; 
 but I cannot feel it our duty to give you up a victim 
 to the scalping knife of some savage, in order that 
 this rash project of the premature settlement of 
 Kentucky should be encouraged. Have we not al- 
 ready more land than we can protect, and properly 
 cultivate? The Kentucky settlers would do much 
 better to move back over the mountains 'til our 
 independence has been won when Virginia will be 
 able to establish posts, garrison them adequately, and 
 furnish sufficient protection to make emigrating to 
 Kentucky other than wanton self-destruction. Why 
 not stay with us, lad, since you are honorably re- 
 leased from service for a while? you'll never 
 know how much we've missed you these three long 
 years."
 
 158 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " Father," I replied, laying my hand on his, and 
 inwardly reproaching myself bitterly for my com- 
 parative indifference, now that I realized how much 
 my long absence had really meant to him, " if my 
 word had not been given, if I had not already taken 
 service for this expedition, it would be my pleasure 
 to make my own wishes second to yours. But now, 
 father, it is too late. I cannot honorably draw back. 
 Moreover, I must join in the search for Ellen. I 
 could never stay quietly at home as long as there 
 is uncertainty as to her fate. And I think I can 
 unite the two duties, follow Clark and make constant 
 search for Ellen from the mountains to the mouth 
 of the Ohio. Thomas will go with me, I think. 
 He'd far better do that than some of the rash things 
 he is contemplating." 
 
 " It will almost break his mother's heart, but she 
 deserves it," spoke my father, harshly for him, who 
 was usually calm and mild in his judgments. 
 
 I think at this time I had more tolerance for Aunt 
 Martha than any one in the family, except my 
 mother. To my mind Ellen had not been blameless, 
 and Aunt Martha's harshness was to have been ex- 
 pected from her character, and the spirit in which 
 she had received the child. I put much of the blame 
 on Uncle Thomas for his unmanly meekness, and 
 part on the neighborhood for not speaking out its 
 sympathy for the. child until too late. And when I 
 thought of her probable sufferings, and dangers, I 
 almost ground my teeth in impotent rage with them 
 all. 
 
 Poor little Ellen! With her indomitable spirit, 
 and courageous faithfulness, what a cold, hard, love-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 159 
 
 less life she had had these three years ! And hers 
 was a nature made for happiness and love, one to 
 expand under appreciation and sympathy, as a morn- 
 ing glory opens in the early sun's rays, and to fold 
 close all its beauty and, sweetness under the chilling 
 influence of disapproval, as the morning glory on a 
 cold and sunless day. 
 
 " You'll not withhold your consent, I hope, father, 
 to my going with Clark," I said when we had sat 
 together in silence for a while. " This expedition 
 means far more to our country than appears, and 
 before the expiration of my year's parole I shall be 
 back, I hope, ready to engage in the regular service 
 again, should the war not yet be ended." 
 
 " You will take my consent and blessing, Donald, 
 and my love and prayers upon any honest adventure 
 you see fit to enter. But I grieve, lad, for your 
 mother. This last strain of anxiety about you, fol- 
 lowing so soon upon the shock of her mother's 
 death, came nigh killing her. Tell her yourself, 
 lad, and soften the blow as much as you can." 
 
 Women are unaccountable creatures. They are 
 apt to do the least expected things, and to take 
 quietly the news you most dread to break to them. 
 So it proved in my mother's case. She went white 
 for an instant, and her hands began to tremble, but 
 she spoke quietly: 
 
 " I knew, Donald, you'd never be content to dwell 
 idly at home, when there's so much doing in the 
 land; nor would I be so proud of my lad were he 
 less a man of deeds, and duty. Governor Henry 
 and Captain Clark honored you in taking you into 
 their cenfidence ; they saw that my son is no ordinary
 
 160 DONALD McELROY 
 
 man," and she stroked the hand that had taken 
 hers, and smiled tearfully upon me. 
 
 " That such men as Governor Henry, Mr. Jeffer- 
 son, Mr. Mason, and Mr. Wythe take an interest 
 in the expedition would seem to mean, Donald," she 
 went on presently, " that they have some more im- 
 portant object in view than to protect a few scattered 
 emigrants. If the rumored alliance of the French 
 with us is confirmed, they may intend to use Clark's 
 troops to make a surprise advance on the western 
 forts, recently ceded by France to England. That 
 would overawe the Indians and strike a blow at the 
 British power at the same time." 
 
 My mother's shrewdness so astonished me that I 
 came near telling her all I knew. " You may be 
 right, mother," I answered nonchalantly, after a mo- 
 ment; "certainly we hope to overawe the Indians, 
 but our present instructions go no further than safe 
 conduct for the band of emigrants, and an attack 
 upon the Indians, should we find them on the war- 
 path, or plotting an attack on the border settlements. 
 It lifts a weight from my heart, mother, dear, to 
 have your approval," I added. 
 
 " You are a man, Donald ; it would be presump- 
 tion in your mother to withhold her blessing from 
 any worthy thing you had set your heart upon. As 
 for your safety, dear, I must leave that in God's 
 hands. I trust you to Our Heavenly Father's care, 
 my son, with only the shield of our hourly prayers 
 about you." 
 
 Recruiting was no easy task, especially with the 
 account I was free to give of the object of our ex-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 161 
 
 pedition. I encountered all sorts of objections and 
 discouragements, and was obliged to travel from end 
 to end of the county, and into the district of West 
 Augusta, with little left of my two months' antici- 
 pated holiday to spend at home. I grew impatient 
 of my ill success, especially since all my enquiries in 
 the county concerning Ellen were as fruitless as 
 Thomas' had been. There was no other conclusion 
 left us than the one my father had reached, and 
 both Thomas and I grew more and more restless to 
 start westward, that we might begin a more hopeful 
 search. 
 
 At last I was enabled to add Captain Bowman's 
 company to the score of volunteers I had been able 
 to get together, although this made it necessary that 
 I should yield him my place as captain, and content 
 myself with a lieutenant's rank. Captain Bowman 
 was encouraged by the prospect of glory and land 
 grants, the men satisfied with large but vague prom- 
 ises; and by the middle of May we were ready to 
 start. 
 
 Clark recently made colonel by Governor 
 Henry with three companies, each of less than 
 fifty men, and a band of emigrants, had already 
 reached the falls of the Ohio, and we were ordered 
 to join him there as speedily as possible.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 It was marvelous what Clark had accomplished 
 with less than one hundred and fifty men in the three 
 weeks he had been at the Falls, and I now conceived 
 a higher opinion than ever of the rare qualities of 
 the man. He had a faculty for organization, and 
 for using men and circumstances which amounted to 
 genius of the noblest order. Already he had builded 
 a substantial block house on Corn Island, just above 
 the Falls, in which all his goods, supplies, and am- 
 munition were stored; the newly enlisted men had 
 been taught some idea of the duties and requirements 
 of soldiers by the work, systematically organized, of 
 clearing and building, by the regular camp life, and 
 the daily drills which they practiced. Still more im- 
 portant, they had acquired unbounded confidence in 
 their leader, and all his orders were obeyed with a 
 cheerful alacrity that promised well for our project. 
 
 The camp presented a busy and cheerful scene, and 
 the neighboring settlement of emigrants had already 
 the promise of a village in the dozen log cabins built, 
 or building, surrounded by newly broken ground, 
 ready for the corn planting. Our company was re- 
 ceived with enthusiasm, and Captain Bowman by 
 Clark with the consideration due his rank and age. 
 Publicly I had only the formal recognition of an 
 acquaintance, but as soon as we had been assigned a 
 place for our camp, and the ax-men set to cutting
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 163 
 
 poles for our booths, Colonel Clark, who, meantime, 
 had concluded his interview with Captain Bowman, 
 and given personal attention to the pitching of a 
 small tent for his accommodation, sent a messenger 
 to me with word that I would please follow the man 
 to the block-house. There Colonel Clark awaited 
 me in a small room adjoining the one in which the 
 ammunition and extra arms were kept; he had taken 
 this room for his own quarters that he might watch 
 over his precious store of lead and powder and guard 
 against its waste. 
 
 " With three hundred like you, McElroy, I'd ven- 
 ture an attack upon Quebec itself," was Clark's 
 greeting, as he seized and shook both my hands in 
 a grip that cramped them, " I see what you've done, 
 stepped down rank a grade in order to get Bowman's 
 militiamen to fill up your company. It glads my 
 heart, McElroy, to know there's one kindred spirit 
 in this enterprise with me." 
 
 The proud distinction had been mine of claiming 
 a personal friendship with Colonel Morgan. Also I 
 had been commended by General Arnold for my 
 bravery at Freeman's Farm, but more than all these 
 Colonel Clark's recognition of a sacrifice which had 
 cost my pride no easy struggle, gratified me. Clark 
 read men as a master in geometry reads his black- 
 board, and found as little difficulty in solving the 
 human problem. Captain Bowman he had won to 
 hearty cooperation in his plans by treating him with 
 the dignified consideration he deemed his due, and 
 now he took the surest way to fasten me to him 
 as with hooks of steel. 
 
 " You have accomplished so much already,
 
 1 64 DONALD McELROY 
 
 Colonel Clark," said I, " that I have less doubt than 
 ever before of the success of your project. Your 
 raw recruits are already soldierly in bearing, and 
 your camp as orderly as a barrack. Our com- 
 pany will be the awkward squad of your com- 
 mand." 
 
 " Two weeks' training will bring them up with the 
 rest," answered Clark. " Most of them are Scotch 
 Irishmen I see that is saying all that is necessary. 
 But I must tell you my plans before we are inter- 
 rupted. I shall often want your secret counsel, until 
 the opportunity comes to give you a place on my 
 staff. How much, think you, does Captain Bowman 
 know?" 
 
 " Only, I surmise, that we are here to protect the 
 frontier, and that it is probable we may be com- 
 manded to make a foray into the lands of the Iro- 
 quois, in which case our chances for promotion and 
 bounty lands will be increased." 
 
 " That is well. He knows enough to have a mind 
 prepared for further disclosure, and is not likely to 
 turn back when he knows all. Did any suspicion of 
 our real object seem to occur to any one in your 
 neighborhood? " 
 
 " To no one except to my mother, and I easily 
 allayed her shrewd suspicions. Most of our people 
 were disposed to blame our project as diverting 
 strength from the cause." 
 
 " More than anything else I am dreading that the 
 English may get some information as to our move- 
 ments, their suspicions be aroused, and the garrisons 
 at Vincennes and Kaskaskia reenforced. I have cer- 
 tain information, through spies I have been sending
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 165 
 
 out all summer, that both places are sparsely gar- 
 risoned at present, the men having been withdrawn 
 to defend Canadian forts, which are thought to be 
 more exposed. Also that the commandant and most 
 of the garrisons, if not ajl, at Kaskaskia are French, 
 and not overfond of their new British masters, while 
 the English officer in charge of Vincennes is just now 
 absent at Detroit. You see, therefore, that we run 
 but little risk of failure, if only our plans can be kept 
 secret." 
 
 " Certainly the prospect is so far encouraging. 
 When do we start and by what route? " 
 
 " In ten days or two weeks, down the river by boat 
 to the mouth of the Tennessee, and, I suppose, land- 
 ward to Kaskaskia since that is the weaker point. 
 Meantime we must drill and enthuse our men, load 
 our boats and get all in readiness for a forced march. 
 It will be best, I think, not to inform the men of our 
 destination till necessary. 
 
 " Hello, Givens! " as a face appeared before the 
 open window " come in ! " Then, lowering his 
 voice to me " be careful, McElroy, in your talk to 
 the scout; he doesn't know all yet, and it is necessary 
 to reveal our plans to him gradually, and to use some 
 persuasion; he hates the Indians, and longs to fight 
 them, but he has never consented to bear arms against 
 Great Britain. Nor do I want to persuade him 
 against his convictions, but he'll not be of much serv- 
 ice to us unless he is one with us. If he does con- 
 sent freely to go on he will be as valuable as an inter- 
 preter as he has been so far as a scout and guide. 
 I'm loath to lose his services." 
 
 Givens had by this time made his way through the
 
 1 66 DONALD McELROY 
 
 armory, and was knocking on Clark's door. His 
 recognition of me was immediate. 
 
 " Glad ter meet yer ergin, Capt'n McElroy," 
 speaking with his usual emphatic drawl, and with 
 hand outstretched cordially. " Couldn't resist ther 
 temptation, yer see, uv goin' ergin ther red-skinned 
 devils onct more 'fore ole age kitches me, en' lays 
 me by ther heels. But ther savages's wary, sence 
 they larn't thet last lesson we sot 'm so mighty well 
 et Pint Pleasant. 'Tain't ther intentions, 'pears like, 
 ter walk inter no more sich traps; besides er leader 
 like Cornstalk's procious sildom found 'mongst 'urn. 
 They'll be mighty apt, though, ter be at ther native 
 tricks uv skulkin' roun' en' bushwackin' en' ambushin' 
 ef we give 'urn enny chanst. Long es we keeps ter- 
 gether, howsomever, en' in ther open they ain't no 
 ways likely ter distarb us." 
 
 " This block-house is a substantial warning to 
 them, Givens," put in Clark; " I wish we had forts 
 all through the Ohio and Mississippi country; that 
 would be the surest way to drive and hold back the 
 savages." 
 
 " And now that the English are arming the In- 
 dians and using them to intimidate the border col- 
 onies, we must make a big show of strength, or all 
 our frontier settlements will be wiped out," said I. 
 
 " Do you believe thet thar 'tale, Capt'n? " asked 
 Givens, a flush rising to his cheeks. ' 'Tain't like 
 the gallant English." 
 
 " I think there's small doubt of it, it's by King 
 George's command and is not approved by his min- 
 isters, I understand. Governor Henry has had most 
 positive information to that effect recently."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 167 
 
 " If thet's so, I ain't no longer countin' myself er 
 loyal subject," said Givens, speaking even more 
 slowly and emphatically than usual. " Ef ther Eng- 
 lish king es capabul' uv armin' red skins, en' turnin' 
 'em loose on ther settlements ter murder innocent 
 wimmen en' babies, then I'm done bein' loyal ter 'im. 
 I'd es lief jine ther Continentals en' fight 'um wid 
 ther rest uv yer." 
 
 Clark gave me a sly and eloquent look and, with 
 that tact which amounted to a sixth sense with him, 
 turned the subject at precisely the right moment. 
 " Where's your foster son this afternoon, Givens ? 
 I haven't seen him since drill this morning." 
 
 " Oh, I got a furlough fur 'im, en' sont 'im over 
 ter ther settlement. He ain't over strong, so I saves 
 'im all thet's possible. He's powerful frens uv some 
 uv ther wimmen en' chillun down ter the settlement, 
 en' sence he ain't so mighty strong I'm glad fur 'im 
 ter hev ther milk en' ther eggs they meks 'im eat." 
 
 Just then Clark was called out a minute, and I 
 took this opportunity to tell Givens about Ellen 
 O'Niel, of her having left her home, of our long 
 fruitless search for her, and of our finally having 
 reached the conclusion that she had been captured 
 and carried off by Indians ; of our hope of finding her 
 or getting some clew to her fate during this expedi- 
 tion, and my reliance on him to help me make en- 
 quiries among the various Indian tribes we might 
 meet. 
 
 At first he asked me a few questions as to the time 
 Ellen left home, her age, appearance, etc. Then he 
 pulled his cap over his eyes, and listened silently. 
 
 " You do not think it likely the Indians have
 
 168 DONALD McELROY 
 
 killed her?" I asked anxiously, his silence seeming 
 ominous. 
 
 " Taint like ther red skinned devils ter kill er 
 handsum' young gal." 
 
 " Then do you not think we have good prospect of 
 finding her, and will not the Indians be glad to take 
 a big ransom for her? " 
 
 " Thar's some prospects, I reckin', en' ef we find 
 'er we'll git 'er," was the scout's answer, as he got 
 up and marched off, his skin cap still pulled down 
 over his eyes. 
 
 Once during the next two weeks, I had Givens' 
 step-son pointed out to me; his youth, his shyness, 
 and the scout's special watchfulness over him, seemed 
 to have excited a good deal of interest. I, too, felt 
 some curiosity. Givens had said nothing to me of 
 a foster son the day I had visited him, though it is 
 true our conversation was confined to the one topic, 
 and there was no occasion to mention any other. 
 Perhaps he was not then with Givens, or the form I 
 took to be a woman's in the adjoining room was his, 
 the swish of a woman's skirts being added by my im- 
 agination. Well, it was no concern of mine, either 
 way, and I had enough to do and to think about. 
 
 Thomas Mitchell, who had improved greatly in 
 health and spirits, under the influence of an out-door, 
 active life, and manly duties, came to me about a 
 week after our arrival at Corn Island, and with an 
 air of mystery led me off down the river some little 
 distance from the camp. 
 
 " Do you know, Donald," he said almost in a 
 whisper, " I am convinced the scout, Givens, knows 
 something abput Ellen? "
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 169 
 
 " And why do you think so? " 
 
 " I was telling him the story of her disappearance, 
 and our vain search for her, to-day, in the hope of 
 getting him interested, and he seemed already to 
 know everything." 
 
 " Well," I laughed, " that is not strange. I also 
 told him a week ago, and for the same reason." 
 
 " Oh, did you ! Still that does not fully account 
 for his manner, Donald, nor his unwillingness to 
 continue the subject. He's got some clew, I'm sure." 
 
 Colonel Clark now detailed eighteen of the least 
 bold of his men to remain behind at the block-house, 
 for the protection of the settlers, and of our extra 
 supplies. He then allowed his officers to make 
 known that we were about to start on a further jour- 
 ney down the Ohio the object and destination of 
 which would be revealed just before the start was 
 made. Confusion and speculation reigned in camp; 
 boats were loaded; rifles cleaned; ramrods whittled 
 from the hearts of hard wood saplings; a supply of 
 bullets molded, and a lot of new moccasins and 
 bullet pouches made, by those skilled in such work, 
 from the skins we had collected. 
 
 At the afternoon drill hour, on the twenty-third 
 of June, Clark presented himself, in riflemen's uni- 
 form, before his men, and was greeted with enthusi- 
 astic cheers. He gave orders to the captains that 
 the men should form in two columns, and then swing 
 out in double line facing him. The maneuver was 
 executed without a hitch, and our small force pre- 
 sented a fine soldierly appearance. Most of the men 
 were past early youth, either brawny pioneers or 
 substantial freeholders, many of them being persons
 
 1 70 DONALD McELROY 
 
 of some education, and considerable weight in their 
 own communities. They were not, as some have 
 charged, a set of mere adventurers. 
 
 The occasion and the scene were well calculated 
 to impress one who realized their import, and as I 
 walked back and forth to dress the line, my imag- 
 ination took fire, and all the daring deeds I knew of 
 tradition and history marshaled themselves in my 
 memory a long and glorious array. 
 
 " My men," spoke Colonel Clark, when all were 
 waiting in expectant silence " shall we press on- 
 ward to a glorious enterprise or having conducted 
 our emigrants, and established them here in safety, 
 shall we turn homeward without having wrought any 
 deed worthy to be written on the page of our coun- 
 try's history? I can lead you on to the performance 
 of such deed, my men that noble friend of liberty, 
 Patrick Henry, has sanctioned a daring enterprise, 
 which all along, I have had in my mind, and which, 
 if successfully executed, will bring honor and domin- 
 ion to our noble commonwealth, and to each of us 
 renown, fortune, and the gratitude of all Virginians. 
 Not only so, but in executing this bold plan, we shall 
 strike a telling blow for that cause we all hold dear- 
 est. 
 
 " No need, my men, to say what that cause is 
 the cause to which the heart of every man present, 
 I truly believe, responds as gladly, as the tenderly 
 nurtured infant to its mother's loving call. The 
 cause of liberty for which each one of us would 
 proudly shed his blood! Nor is the cause unwor- 
 thy such devotion, my comrades, for 'tis not only 
 that of our country's independence, of American lib-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 171 
 
 erty, of blessed freedom and rare privileges for our 
 descendants 'tis the cause of the world's liberty, of 
 the freedom from kingly tyranny and the right to 
 seek happiness for all future generations of men, till 
 time shall be no more.. My brothers, future ages 
 will look back to us and call us blessed, will offer 
 thanks to Heaven for the brave and determined peo- 
 ple of the new continent, who freely risked all for 
 liberty threw into the scales against the claims of 
 oppressed humanity, every present good, every hope 
 for the future. Are you willing, my men, to sac- 
 rifice still further, to risk still more for the cause? 
 Shall I tell you more? Shall we press onward? " 
 
 "Onward! Colonel, onward!" yelled the men 
 in wild enthusiasm " tell us more, tell us more ! 
 Onward! Onward!" 
 
 Then Clark told them the true object of our ex- 
 pedition, and unfolded all his plans, which had been 
 so well concealed, hiding from them nothing of the 
 hardships and risks of the undertaking. Yet he 
 dwelt long and eloquently upon the tremendous con- 
 sequences of success, the glory that would be theirs, 
 and the important results to Virginia and the cause. 
 He added that he wanted no half hearted consent, 
 that he far preferred that all those who were not 
 enlisted heart and soul in the enterprise ready to 
 do and to dare all things, should make their deci- 
 sion now. They could do so by stepping out of 
 ranks. Seventeen men stepped out, looking sullen 
 and ashamed of themselves. 
 
 "You are free to go," said Clark, with a con- 
 temptuous wave of the hand towa_rd the east; then 
 he faced the faithful again, and made them a brief
 
 1 72 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 speech, which set them wild, and sent them off to 
 their booths so eager to begin our adventure that 
 they could scarcely wait for the night to pass. 
 
 During the first part of Colonel Clark's address, 
 I had watched Givens, close by. His face was a 
 study of mingled interest, eagerness and doubt. 
 When Clark gave the command that all who did not 
 wish to follow him should step out of ranks, he 
 started forward, hesitated, then dropped back into 
 rank, where presently, he was cheering with the 
 rest. When all were gone except the officers assem- 
 bled around Clark, Givens came up to him. 
 
 " Colonel," he said, " I've tuck my stand by yer 
 fur good en' all; yer may fight Injuns, ur British, ur 
 what yer please, I'm with yer." 
 
 " Thank you, Givens," said Clark, shaking his 
 hand heartily; " we could ill afford to lose you." 
 
 " Mebbe you'd better thank that boy uv mine. 
 Him yer've plum bewitched, en wher' he goes, goes 
 Givens." 
 
 That night as I wandered about the camp it 
 was all astir till long after midnight I got wind 
 of the fact that some of the deserters were lurking 
 around trying to persuade others to sneak off with 
 them, and went straight to Clark with the informa- 
 tion. 
 
 " Detail a squad from your company, McElroy, 
 and surround the camp with a close cordon of 
 guards," said Clark, promptly. 
 
 I did so; then Clark had the drum beat, and the 
 men called to the drill ground, where waning moon 
 and twinkling stars gave barely light enough for 
 them to see each other's faces.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 173 
 
 " Silence ! " commanded Clark, stilling the con- 
 fusion with a word. " I understand that the cow- 
 arcte who deserted us this evening are in the camp 
 attempting to stir up mutiny. It must be stopped. 
 The deserters must leave camp immediately, or suf- 
 fer the penalty of mutineers and traitors. Should 
 any other man, except these, attempt to leave the 
 camp he will be arrested or shot by the guards now 
 surrounding it. You had your chance, men, and 
 took your choice; you must now abide by your de- 
 cision. To-morrow we start for Kaskaskia."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A June sky a-nd a resplendent sun, undimmed by 
 cloud or mist, beamed upon the camp next morning, 
 as we made last preparations for our departure. 
 Those of -the men who had been detailed to " stay 
 by the stuff," at the block-house, were plainly dis- 
 satisfied, now that they realized that they were to 
 be left out of the adventures and chances, as well 
 as the toils and dangers of our enterprise. Those 
 who had made the bolder choice were as eager as 
 boys starting on a first bear hunt. The uncertainty 
 as to what might befall us, the unknown country we 
 must traverse, the very dangers we would probably 
 encounter, all lent mystery and excitement to our 
 undertaking. 
 
 The entire population of the settlement, and all 
 the block-house garrison were assembled on the river 
 bank to say good-by to us. The women were in 
 tears, the men quiet and serious ; we, on the contrary, 
 were hilarious with excitement. 
 
 Colonel Clark again addressed the men in words 
 stirring and heroic, and the command to embark was 
 given. Company by company we stepped upon the 
 flat boats, and drifted rapidly down the Ohio to the 
 falls, each raft guided by a skilled poleman, who 
 stood erect, steering carefully for the one channel 
 through which we could safely shoot the falls. The 
 crowd on the bank was still cheering the last boat
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 175 
 
 load, as the first dropped over the edge of the rapids. 
 At that moment the sun, which had beamed less 
 fiercely for some time, though in our engrossment 
 we had taken little notice of the fact, became sud- 
 denly obscured, and the dimness of twilight fell upon 
 gliding river, green banks, and tumbling falls. One 
 could scarcely recognize the faces of his companions 
 beside him in the boat, nor the polemen see to steer. 
 The cheering ceased, and over man, beast and nature 
 fell an awesome stillness. The birds in the branches 
 of the overhanging trees ceased their glad caroling, 
 the insects their buzzing, the fish their plunging, even 
 the hurrying river seemed hushed into a more sub- 
 dued murmur, and the noise of the falls to subside 
 into a muffled roar. 
 
 The men in my boat drew in their breath; one 
 uttered a stifled sigh, another a low moan ; and I real- 
 ized that a word might precipitate a panic. I stood 
 up and studied the sky for explanation of the phe- 
 nomenon. The sun held his wonted place in a 
 cloudless sky, but over his radiant face lay a black 
 disc, leaving only a bright rim upon one edge. 
 
 " It is an eclipse, comrades," I called, in my loud- 
 est tones, " an eclipse of the sun. I take it for a 
 good sign symbol of what we shall do for auto- 
 cratic power upon this continent, only that will be a 
 lasting, as well as a total, eclipse." 
 
 My words had magic effect upon the men in our 
 boat, and in the two others near enough to hear my 
 words. Clark must have said something similar to 
 those in his, and adjacent boats, for I saw him spring 
 to his feet, pointing to the sun, and simultaneously 
 with our shouts of " Eclipse, eclipse ! good sign, good
 
 176 DONALD McELROY 
 
 omen! Thus we'll blot out the forts in the north- 
 west," came like cries from the other boats, and an- 
 swering cheers from the bank. So the ominous por- 
 tent, as it seemed at first, was changed into a symbol 
 of encouragement. 
 
 Often since, I have thought of this incident, which 
 seems to illustrate the way life should be met. Al- 
 low ourselves to be discouraged by apparent auguries 
 of failure, and we will turn our backs upon success, 
 when our feet are already pressing its threshold; yet 
 such signs read by the light of a steadfast purpose, 
 and a courageous heart, may become but prophecies 
 of victory, and encouragement to more strenuous 
 effort. 
 
 Our journey down the river was as rapid and un- 
 eventful as the most hopeful of us could have asked; 
 we reached the mouth of the Tennessee without a 
 single adventure worth recording. On the way, 
 however, Colonel Clark had learned a most cheering 
 piece of news, and one momentous to our undertak- 
 ing. The rumored French alliance was made pub- 
 lic, and France had promised liberal and immediate 
 aid of men, money, and a fleet. That night when 
 we had disembarked at the mouth of the Tennessee, 
 after we had tied up the boats, and killed and cooked 
 our suppers, Clark assembled the men, and an- 
 nounced the joyous intelligence he had received, 
 pointing out all the fortunate consequences to our 
 expedition to be expected from the French alliance. 
 This was all that was needed to give the men assur- 
 ance of success, and to make them ready to brave 
 everything. 
 
 Next morning we shouldered all the ammunition
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 177 
 
 we could march under, and set out for Kaskaskia. 
 We were still following the river, when, an hour 
 after starting, we hailed a boat load of hunters. 
 They proved to be Americans a new appellation 
 among us but eight days out from Kaskaskia, and 
 after a conversation between them and Colonel 
 Clark, one of them, a certain John Saunders, con- 
 sented to act as our guide through the Illinois coun- 
 try, with which he professed to be perfectly familiar. 
 This solved our one difficulty, for until now we had 
 lacked a guide. With light hearts we resumed our 
 tramp across prairie, marsh, and forest, seeing vic- 
 tory within our grasp renown and wealth as the 
 individual reward of each, and for our country ex- 
 tended dominion, and added glory. 
 
 Good luck continued to attend us, while six more 
 days passed. We had fine weather and made good 
 progress, considering the unbroken wilderness 
 through which our route lay. Time was most pre- 
 cious, for everything depended upon our reaching 
 Kaskaskia before any rumors of our approach should 
 get to the ears of the commandant. Signs of lurk- 
 ing Indians, pointed out from time to time by Givens 
 and Saunders, made the least enthusiastic among the 
 men eager to hurry on; but these filled Thomas and 
 me with impatience, because even Givens discour- 
 aged our wish to seek out their camps, and to ques- 
 tion them in regard to Ellen. It would be fool- 
 hardiness, declared Givens, and result only in our 
 being ambushed he'd find " the gal " fast enough 
 for us when once we were safe behind the walls of 
 a fort, and could kill the " redskin devils " at our 
 leisure.
 
 178 DONALD McELROY 
 
 On the eighth morning, Saunders spread conster- 
 nation among us by the announcement that he was 
 lost that he did not know where we were, nor 
 could he recognize a single landmark. The night 
 before we had seen the smoke from a distant camp 
 fire, which Saunders said he doubted not was that 
 of some roving Miamis or Kickapoos. This fact 
 made our predicament the more serious. At once 
 a halt was called, and Clark sternly declared to the 
 confused Saunders who was half suspected of 
 treachery by us all that unless he quickly found 
 the way, he might prepare for instant death. It 
 was not possible, Givens declared, in his slow, em- 
 phatic dialect, for a scout and woodsman to lose his 
 way in a country he had once traveled over, and 
 Saunders had either lied to us in the first place, or 
 was laying a trap for us now; therefore all were 
 ready to back Colonel Clark in his evident resolve 
 to make short work of the suspected traitor, unless 
 he speedily found himself. Saunders saw that his 
 doom was sealed if he could not quickly regain his 
 bearings, and went to work desperately, closely at- 
 tended by two guards, retracing our way for some 
 distance, examining sky, stream and trees, then climb- 
 ing to the tops of the tallest to overlook the land- 
 scape. 
 
 The men sat about smoking dejectedly, or mutter- 
 ing their suspicions to each other. Meantime I grew 
 restless, and the sight of the anxious face of Saun- 
 ders, and the stern face of Clark, oppressed me. So 
 I picked up my rifle, and plunged into the forest 
 which fringed the higher ground stretching eastward. 
 A small stream flowing out of the woods promised
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 179 
 
 either spring or pond, and possibly rare game, within. 
 As I started I called to Givens asking him to sound 
 his turkey yelper should they resume the march be- 
 fore my return. 
 
 The shade and freshness of the woods was most 
 grateful and the tangle of well laden blackberry 
 bushes in a more open space beguiled me to stop 
 and pluck some of the fruit. The spring found, I 
 looked about for signs of game, but seeing none, 
 propped my rifle against a tree, laid flat down upon 
 my chest, and buried my face in the limpid sweet- 
 ness of the pure, cool water. I drank till satisfied, 
 then fell to dreaming. The same scenes under dif- 
 ferent aspects came to me always in my day visions, 
 or night dreams pictures of home, recollections 
 of my childhood, and occasionally some scenes from 
 those few weeks of dissipation in Philadelphia, with 
 Nelly's witching face, swimming amidst my mem- 
 ories. But I liked the home scenes best, and next 
 to seeing them in the flesh, was the happiness of 
 closing my eyes, and conjuring up visions of my 
 mother, of Jean, and of Ellen. 
 
 What a glad day it would be when, Ellen having 
 been found, and our country's independence won, 
 Thomas and I could go home and settle down to 
 peace and happiness ! 
 
 Peace and happiness! Would it be ours after 
 all, so long as Aunt Martha set herself, in her nar- 
 row bigotry, to persecute Ellen? so long as there 
 was estrangement between husband and wife, mother 
 and son in my uncle's family? So tenderhearted 
 was my mother, so loyal to her sister, that even we 
 could not be a happy family while there was dis-
 
 i8o DONALD McELROY 
 
 cord and unhappiness in Aunt Martha's for 
 mother was our happiness barometer, and the family 
 atmosphere went up or down with her feelings. But 
 mother should adopt Ellen, and we would make her 
 happy, and Aunt Martha ashamed of her harshness 
 and the narrowness of her religion. 
 
 Then and there I vowed a new crusade. I must 
 be a soldier always, fighting upon one arena or an- 
 other for some principle of human liberty for 
 the love of liberty and a fervent zeal for it had, from 
 long meditation and some sacrifices in its cause, got- 
 ten into my blood, and become a part of my nature. 
 When this war against autocratic rule should be 
 ended I would take my stand by Mr. Jefferson, and 
 give all my time and energies to the brave fight he 
 was making for entire and universal religious lib- 
 erty. Deeper and deeper had I plunged into the 
 trackless wilderness of my own thoughts, till I was 
 lost to consciousness of the place, the hour and my- 
 self. 
 
 Perhaps I had been dimly conscious of some slight 
 movement in the bushes behind me afterward I 
 remembered being subtly disturbed by it, and of lift- 
 ing my head to listen but the first sounds that 
 really aroused me were the short explosion of a rifle, 
 followed, almost instantly, by the whistle of a bullet 
 cutting its way through the still air, and then, scarcely 
 a second later, a wild weird whoop, close beside me, 
 which caused me to spring to my feet, and turned 
 me in its direction, as if I had been an automaton. 
 There, beside the tree, against which I had leaned, 
 was stretched the quivering body of a dying Indian. 
 One hand still grasped a tomahawk, while the other
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 181 
 
 clutched frantically at the leaves and grasses. A 
 last quiver and he was still, his set eyes staring into 
 the branches, rustling softly above him. 
 
 It was all a mystery to me. Where had the In- 
 dian come from? Who had shot him? I stood an 
 instant gazing down upon the still savage in dumb- 
 founded amazement, then took my rifle and started 
 back to the men in search of an explanation of it 
 all. Presently I overtook Givens' foster son, who 
 was hurrying forward as fast as he could. I caught 
 up with him, halted him, and asked if he had shot 
 the Indian. He did not answer, and only pulled 
 his cap farther over his eyes. I took his rifle, and 
 looked into the bore of it; it was warm, empty, and 
 smelled strongly of powder. 
 
 " Givens," I said planting myself before him, and 
 holding out my hand, " you have just saved my life, 
 doubtless. Won't you let me thank you ? " 
 
 The beardless lips of the lad, about all I could see 
 of his face under his wide brimmed cap, curved into 
 a half smile, and he said, in muffled voice, his head 
 still on his chest: 
 
 " The savage had just poised his tomahawk for a 
 blow when I saw him." 
 
 44 You acted most promptly," I answered; 44 he 
 might have brought a whole tribe down upon us, so 
 that you have perhaps saved the entire band, as well 
 as Donald McElroy." I continued to talk, to praise 
 his coolness, readiness, and marksmanship, and to 
 repeat my thanks, but I got no more out of the lad 
 and it was so evident that I embarrassed and an- 
 noyed him that presently I walked on and left him 
 to follow. He seemed affected with a painful shy-
 
 1 82 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 ness, and apparently preferred solitude to the most 
 flattering society. 
 
 No immediate opportunity was given me to tell 
 Givens of his boy's kindly deed, for, just as I joined 
 him and Colonel Clark, talking earnestly together, 
 Saunders, still attended by his guards, came running 
 toward us, waving his arms, and shouting joyously. 
 He had found a landmark, and knew our locality! 
 We were but a day's march from Kaskaskia, and the 
 way was safe and openl
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 " Comrades," said Clark the next morning, just as 
 we were falling into line of march, " have you re- 
 membered the day? It is the fourth of July, my 
 men the anniversary of our Declaration of Inde- 
 pendence, the birthday of our liberties day pro- 
 pitious in the history of the United States of Amer- 
 ica ! Our guide tells me that we are but six leagues 
 from Kaskaskia, and I have already planned our 
 attack. Bloodless victory awaits us for I can 
 rely on each man of you to do only and all that is 
 expected of him. We will march within half a mile 
 of the fort this morning, conceal ourselves in the 
 woods' until dark, and, then, dividing into two com- 
 panies, we will rush into the town from opposite 
 ends, shouting and brandishing our knives. 
 
 " I am told that the minds of the French in this 
 region have been filled with terror of the bordermen 
 by horrid tales of our ruthless cruelty; we may as 
 well take advantage of this impression to overawe 
 them. Perhaps we may prevent bloodshed by pro- 
 ducing astonishment and terror in the breasts of the 
 garrison and citizens. We have no quarrel with 
 the French, but are concerned rather with winning 
 them peaceably to our side. After a night of fear 
 -but you must remember, men, that we wish to 
 arouse apprehension alone, and that a single deed 
 of violence or rapine may ruin all the reaction
 
 i8 4 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 will be the greater, and our liberal terms of amnesty 
 the more gratefully accepted. As we lie in ambush 
 this afternoon, you will preserve the strictest silence, 
 and not a man must venture out of hiding till the 
 command to advance be given. Carry out this plan 
 successfully, and Kaskaskia is ours to-morrow, and 
 Virginia's forever ! " 
 
 Cheers rent the air, and the more enthusiastic 
 waved their caps over their heads, and shook each 
 other's hands, as if victory were already ours. 
 
 The town lay dark and silent under the stars, as 
 our two bands circled it, and simultaneously marched 
 down the principal street from opposite directions, 
 yelling, and brandishing our unsheathed hunting 
 knives, as demon-wise as the worst of savages. 
 
 " The Long - Knives ! The Long - Knives ! " 
 shouted the people upon the streets, running from 
 house to house to spread the alarm, while women 
 and children screamed, doors were slammed and 
 barred within, and lights extinguished everywhere. 
 Gradually the pandemonium of shrieks, shouts, and 
 screams subsided into a hush of fearful expectation, 
 during which Givens and Saunders, each of whom 
 could speak a little French, marched captured citi- 
 zens from door to door, before which they required 
 them to announce in loud tones that the general in 
 command of the Long-Knives had decreed that all 
 citizens of Kaskaskia who should remain quietly 
 within their houses would be unmolested, but that all 
 who ventured out would be summarily dealt with. 
 
 M. Rocheblave, the commandant, was surprised 
 in his bed-chamber, and taken prisoner. His wife, 
 a pretty, voluble Frenchwoman, went into hysterics,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 185 
 
 and begged piteously for their lives in broken Eng- 
 lish, much mixed with French words, and interpreted 
 with expressive gestures. Colonel Clark assured 
 her, as best he could, that no harm would be done 
 them, and then bade me search the apartment for 
 papers while he stood guard in the doorway. 
 Meantime the Commandant and Madame looked 
 on, the latter regaining her composure, and seating 
 herself on a small trunk, from which she watched 
 my proceedings with smiling scorn. I searched 
 everywhere, upsetting furniture, and even ripping 
 open the feather beds, but few papers were found, 
 and they of slight importance. The trunk which 
 Madame seemed to be guarding was, evidently, the 
 receptacle for the more important documents. 
 
 " Madame," I said, approaching her, and taking 
 her gently by the arm, " I must search this trunk 
 also." 
 
 But she held her place firmly, and, in better Eng- 
 lish than she had yet spoken, heaped reproaches 
 upon me, saying that " no man worthy of the name 
 would invade the privacy of a woman's personal be- 
 longings." Then she began to weep and to wail, 
 and to entreat Clark piteously. 
 
 "Let her alone, McElroy," said Clark, at last; 
 " we cannot use violence to a woman," so we 
 marched off with our prisoner, the Commandant, and 
 left the little Frenchwoman to destroy his papers at 
 her leisure. 
 
 " I tell you, McElroy," said Clark, " I'd rather 
 face a battalion, or storm a battery, than to en- 
 counter another hysterical Frenchwoman." 
 
 During the night we took possession of the un-
 
 1 86 DONALD McELROY 
 
 garrisoned fort a disused warehouse, which had 
 served as fort since the burning of the old one 
 and Colonel Clark issued strict commands that only 
 the officers and such soldiers as he should detail to 
 guard the town from time to time, must leave the 
 fort until further orders. By this ruse the citizens 
 were deceived for weeks as to our real strength, 
 their imagination readily using such adroit hints as 
 Colonel Clark threw out to magnify our force into 
 a strong army of invasion, and the squad left at 
 Corn Island, into large reinforcements, expected in 
 a few days. 
 
 All night guards patrolled the streets. The in- 
 habitants, however, obeyed orders strictly, and did 
 not venture forth next morning until permission was 
 given them, with the information that the fort and 
 the town were in our possession, and M. Rocheblave 
 a prisoner. 
 
 Their distressed faces presented a strong contrast 
 to the cheerful scene which greeted our eyes with the 
 beaming sunlight of the morning. Kaskaskia, situ- 
 ated on the right bank of the Kaskaskia or the Okan 
 River, six miles above its confluence with the Missis- 
 sippi, was then a village of two hundred and fifty 
 houses, situated on a beautiful and rolling peninsula. 
 The velvet verdure of the plain, dotted with little 
 groves of pecan, maple, ash, and button-wood, the 
 glassy surface of the idle river, the lofty hill oppo- 
 site, with its stately forest, the air scented with the 
 fragrance of its wild flowers, the little springs gush- 
 ing from its sides in sparkling beauty, all reposing in 
 the lap of nature, with their virgin freshness yet 
 upon them there was a landscape to charm her
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 187 
 
 most capricious lover. We gazed enchanted on the 
 fair picture and felt that we had reached a Canaan, 
 rich reward for all we had dared and endured. 
 
 Presently came the priest to Colonel Clark, asking 
 that the people be allowed to assemble once more in 
 the church to say to each other a last farewell before 
 leaving their homes, and separating forever. 
 " Theirs," he said, " was the fortune of war, and 
 they made no murmur since an all wise God had 
 willed it so. Nor could they complain of their con- 
 querors, who so far had treated them with unex- 
 ampled consideration. They had but one other 
 favor to ask that the men might not be separated 
 from their wives and their little ones." 
 
 Doubtless all the night through the woeful fate 
 of the hapless Acadians had been present to the 
 anxious minds of the people, who were expecting for 
 themselves, as the best to be hoped, a similar fate. 
 
 When the priest's words had been translated to 
 Colonel Clark by Saunders, he answered with a win- 
 ning smile, and a convincing air of friendliness: 
 
 " Monsieur Gibault, we have nothing whatever 
 against your religion, nor against the citizens of Kas- 
 kaskia. Assemble your people in church when and 
 for what purpose you will; worship God freely, as 
 your consciences dictate. It is to win freedom of 
 belief and personal liberty for all the inhabitants of 
 this broad continent we have taken up our arms. 
 But we came not to fight against the French; our 
 quarrel is against King George of England. And 
 why should the citizens of Kaskaskia, for the sake 
 of being loyal to a power which has but lately sub- 
 dued them, desert their comfortable homes, and
 
 1 88 DONALD McELROY 
 
 wander forth again into the wilderness? Why 
 should they not make peace, and live in harmony 
 with the allies of their father land? Have they not 
 heard the great news that France and America 
 have formed a close alliance that a French fleet 
 and a French army are on their way to help us fight 
 the armies who have invaded us because we would 
 not submit to tyranny and injustice? Does not this 
 alliance absolve the citizens of Kaskaskia from all 
 allegiance to England? Is not blood thicker than 
 treaties forced upon a people at the point of the 
 sword? 
 
 " No! M. Gibault, there is no necessity for your 
 flock to bid each other farewell, and scatter into the 
 wilderness to fall prey to wild beast and cruel sav- 
 age! Remain peacefully in your homes! swear al- 
 legiance to Virginia 1 conclude with us the same alli- 
 ance that France has lately entered into with the 
 United States of America, and not a drop of blood 
 need be shed, not a man, woman, or child need leave 
 his home, nor resign either his religion, nor a franc's 
 worth of his lawful property! We will pledge our- 
 selves to secure your safety, and to maintain you in 
 the enjoyment of all the rights and privileges of 
 American citizens! " 
 
 The gentle face of the priest passed from distress- 
 ful entreaty, through all the varying expressions of 
 surprise, doubt, conviction, relief, and rapture, as 
 Colonel Clark's speech, phrase by phrase, was inter- 
 preted to him. He poured out fervid and voluble 
 thanks, called down Heaven's blessing upon such 
 merciful conquerors, and repaired quickly to the 
 church to spread the glad news among his flock.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 189 
 
 Never have I witnessed a more affecting scene 
 than the one which followed. The child-like Kas- 
 kaskians passed in an instant from despair to joy, 
 from fear and horror of us, to enthusiastic admira- 
 tion and affection. We were their allies, their 
 brothers, not only would they share all they had with 
 us, but they would assist us against our common 
 enemy. 
 
 An hour later, when the first outburst of joy had 
 somewhat subsided, Father Gibault called his flock 
 to assemble again in the church, that they might 
 offer to God a solemn thanksgiving for this great 
 deliverance. Colonel Clark and I, with two others 
 of the officers, attended this service and gave respect- 
 ful attention. In a far corner of the dim little 
 chapel I recognized the slim form of young Givens 
 bowed in worship. Again I fell to puzzling over 
 the lad- some mystery attended, evidently, his 
 presence among us. Could he be a Catholic? yet 
 Catholics were as rare as Jews in our part of the 
 State; Ellen had been the single one in our county 
 as far as I knew. There was no solving the mys- 
 tery, unless Givens chose to disclose what he knew, 
 and that he was little likely to do, without good 
 reason. Well, mysteries were not rare in the New 
 World, and we were little accustomed to concern 
 ourselves about them beyond idle speculation. 
 
 When the religious ceremonies were over, Father 
 Gibault announced that the rest of the day would be 
 celebrated as a fete day, and asked that the panins, 
 or slaves, should be given holiday. Festoons of 
 flowers were quickly woven, and hung from house to 
 house; maidens and youths danced upon the green;
 
 1 90 DONALD McELROY 
 
 flutes, violins, fife, and drum filled the air with music; 
 and later a supper of pan cakes and maple syrup 
 was served to all by soft-voiced, bright-eyed French- 
 women. Dancing, feasting and rejoicing were kept 
 up in many of the houses until midnight. Intoxicat- 
 ing drinks had flowed so freely, meantime, that there 
 was much disorder on the streets, and several fights 
 among the panins, who mingled with their masters 
 in a familiar manner, strange to us. To their 
 brawls, however, we paid no attention, since only 
 friendly demonstrations were made us, and no one 
 ventured near the fort, in which the men were kept 
 with some difficulty. 
 
 To Colonel Bowman's company fell the lot of 
 marching up the river to take possession of the town 
 and fort of Cahokia. Several of the citizens of 
 Kaskaskia had volunteered to go with us, and, enter- 
 ing the town before us, easily persuaded the inhabit- 
 ants to transfer their allegiance from Great Britain 
 to Virginia. As in Kaskaskia, the news of the 
 French alliance was all that was needed to incline to 
 a bloodless surrender. 
 
 Chosen by Captain Bowman to carry the news of 
 our easy success to Colonel Clark, and ask for fur- 
 ther instructions, I was again in Kaskaskia within 
 the week. My interview over with Colonel Clark 
 who took my news with rather disappointing 
 calmness I found Givens waiting for me, his anx- 
 ious face and air of mystery giving me a sharp sur- 
 prise. He led me aside, and asked abruptly, 
 
 " You hed er cousin by ther name uv Ellen 
 O'Niel?" 
 
 " Yes," I answered, still more surprised.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 191 
 
 " She's yander in the fort, en lyin' low. What'll 
 we do erbout et? " 
 
 " Here, in Kaskaskia? It is not to be believed." 
 
 " All ther same, Capt'n, et's so. John Givens es 
 Ellen O'Niel, dressed en boy's clothes. Howsom- 
 ever she's down with ther swamp fever now, en must 
 hev woman's nussin' en' priest's docterin' es soon es 
 it's ter be got fur 'er. It's yer es must tell Colonel 
 Clark, en' have 'er moved frum ther fort at onct." 
 
 " How came she with you, Givens? And why 
 did you let her come all this way from her friends 
 and dressed, too, in men's clothes? " I questioned 
 angrily. 
 
 ' 'Tain't no time fur explanations now, Capt'n. 
 Ther gal needs tendin' ter, right away," and he 
 stalked on in front of me with imperturbable man- 
 ner, but anxious countenance. 
 
 It took few words to explain so much as was 
 necessary to Colonel Clark, and not many more to 
 enlist the sympathies of Madame Rocheblave. We 
 soon had the poor child, yet in her rifleman's garb, 
 but too far gone in the stupor of her disease to know 
 anything removed to the Commandant's house, 
 and left her in the care of Madame, and a fresh 
 faced girl whom Madame called Angelique, and 
 recommended as an excellent nurse. Then we went 
 to see Dr. Lafonte, the village doctor, and Father 
 Gibault, who was reputed to be skilled in herbs and 
 roots, and especially successful in treating fevers. 
 
 When both had come, while we waited for their 
 verdict, Givens sat down beside me on the steps of 
 the house and told me the following story : 
 
 u Twuz one bitter cold en' snowy evenin', las'
 
 192 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 winter, as I wuz out on ther mountin', huntin'. I 
 seed a dark heap 'long side er ther parth, en' thort 
 'twuz er wild beast uv sum descripshun. When I 
 got closter I heerd er human moan, en' seed it wuz 
 er woman, hurt, en' harf froze. I toted 'er home 
 on my shoulder, laid 'er on my bed, en' rubbed sum 
 life inter 'er. Fur days she did'n' know nothin'; 
 then, when she did 'pear ter notice sum, she lay 
 ther', too weak ter speak, en' lookin' more like er 
 ghost than like er woman. When she could talk 
 she 'peared not ter wan' ter, en' specully not ter 
 keer ter talk erbout herself. I didn't ask 'er no 
 questions, en' one day I tole 'er I'd call 'er Mary ef 
 she'd es lieve thet having been ther name of my 
 own leetle gal, es ther redskin devils killed, en' her 
 eyes somehow remindin' me uv ther chile's. She 
 'greed ter thet, en' got more friendly. 
 
 " One day she axed me if I could give her some 
 paper en' er quill. I guv 'em ter 'er, made 'er sum 
 poke-berry ink, en' she writ' er letter; thin I tramped 
 ter Charlottsville ter post et fur er. She waited en' 
 waited, en' twisct I went ter town ter git ther answer, 
 afore it cum. When et did cum, et sot her ter cry- 
 in', en' took all ther red out'n her cheeks ergin 
 fur by this time she wuz well en' strong, doin' all 
 my cookin' en' mendin', and makin' cheerful com- 
 pany fur me evenin's. She said 'twuz her own let- 
 ter cum back frum ther postman, who had writ on 
 et thet ther people et wuz sont ter didn't live in 
 Baltimore no longer. She didn't hev no whar, now, 
 ter go, she said, crying pitiful. She could stay with 
 me es long es she'd er mind ter, I tole her, en' I'd 
 be glad to hev her fur my own chile sence the
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 193 
 
 redskinned devils hedn't left me none. Thet seemed 
 ter cumfort her some, but you cum er few days arter 
 thet, en' she heerd me tell yer I'd like ter go with 
 Clark. You wuz no sooner gone then she declared 
 she wuz goin' off so es not to be er hinderunce ter 
 me, nur my plans. Ter thet I wouldn't ergree no- 
 how, spechully arter she hed tole me er leetle 'bout 
 how she happened ter be on ther mountin thet evenin' 
 though she never did tell me her name, nur ther 
 name uv her kin folks. 
 
 " We talked mos' all thet night; she argified, en' 
 I argified; et las we cum ter this ergreement: she 
 wuz ter go with me ter Kaintucky es my foster- 
 son, en' we'd settle out ther, when she'd put on her 
 gal clothes ergin, en' be my daughter fur good en' 
 all. 
 
 " I went ter Charlottesville, got er rifleman's uni- 
 form fur 'er, en' she put it right on ter practice 
 wearin' it, en' lookin' natural en it. Every day she 
 went huntin' with me ter practice shootin', en' I tuk 
 ter callin' her John. By ther time we started, 'twas 
 all es nat'ral as if 'twere so, en' everything went 
 smooth tel you en' Mr. Mitchell come. She wuz 
 skeered fur fear you'd fine 'er out, en' staid most er 
 the time at the settlement. 'Twuz my intention to 
 leave er ther, even ef I went on with Clark, but she 
 wuz mad fur adventure by thet time, en' would cum' 
 on. The reason I let 'er wuz becus' uv yer two bein' 
 her kin, in case 'twuz needful ter mek known she wuz 
 er woman. Her being in 'tother company kept you 
 frum seein' 'er much, en' nights I allus slept nigh 'er 
 es you know. She's been awful sick now fur twenty- 
 four hours, en' both uv yer gone. Et's been er ter-
 
 194 DONALD McELROY 
 
 rable responserbility frum fust ter last es fatherly 
 as I feel ter ther poor gal," and Givens mopped the 
 sweat from his brow, and drew a long, deep sigh of 
 intense relief. 
 
 " Will she recover? " I asked eagerly of Dr. La- 
 fonte, who just then opened the front door softly. 
 To translate my question was beyond Givens' strictly 
 limited French, but somehow Dr. Lafonte under- 
 stood, and replied in his own tongue. 
 
 I gazed at him hopelessly, for then I could not un- 
 derstand a single word of the French language. 
 Father Gibault, gliding behind the little doctor, 
 smiled at my bewilderment and translated for me 
 with many shrugs and gestures. 
 
 " He would say, Monsieur, that Mademoiselle ees 
 very seek boot she ees young and strong, eef le 
 bon Dieu ees weeling she weel make recovery. I, 
 Monsieur, have plenty Peruvian bark, et ees la 
 grande medicine; Mademoiselle weel make re- 
 covery, I theenk, Monsieur," and he gave me a be- 
 nign and reassuring smile.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 As soon as Colonel Clark's commands were de- 
 livered to Captain Bowman at Cahokia, I obtained 
 permission for Thomas and myself to return to Kas- 
 kaskia, that we might await there the issue of Ellen's 
 illness. We took turns of watching upon the porch 
 of the commandant's house to be in readiness for 
 any instant service it was in our power to render. 
 Meantime Madame Rocheblave and Angelique 
 nursed Ellen assiduously and tenderly, and her physi- 
 cians gave her faithful attention. This was my first 
 acquaintance with people of French blood, and their 
 unfailing cheerfulness and sympathy were a revela- 
 tion to me. In truth the French Americans of the 
 Northwest were the most simple natured and warm 
 hearted race I have ever known they had not, 
 however, the hardier qualities of my own people. 
 
 For seven days we had always the same answer 
 to our questions given by the little doctor, with 
 cheery air, and sympathetic expression " C'est im- 
 possible a dire, Monsieur, il faut avoir la patience." 
 
 Late on the eighth night, Father Gibault came to 
 me, his gentle face beaming with pleasure, to an- 
 nounce that the crisis had been favorably passed, 
 and that with no relapse, Ellen would soon be as 
 strong or stronger than before. 
 
 The most hazardous part of our enterprise lay 
 yet before us the taking of Vincennes, the real key
 
 196 DONALD McELROY 
 
 to the Northwest, without which we could not long 
 hold our position at Kaskaskia and Cahokia. And 
 every day the English commandant, Abbott, might 
 return from Detroit with reinforcements for the 
 fort, which was far stronger and better equipped 
 than the almost abandoned one at Kaskaskia. 
 Moreover we could not hope so easily to overawe 
 and win the larger and more mixed population of 
 the town of Vincennes, which had fallen more di- 
 rectly under British influence. 
 
 Colonel Clark had conceived that his best hope 
 was to make the Kaskaskians believe his riflemen the 
 most formidable of warriors, and to lead them to 
 think that he could summon from our recently estab- 
 lished forts on the Ohio any number of reenforce- 
 ments he might need. So we drilled and mustered 
 the men and made pretense of sending couriers to 
 our forts, till the Kaskaskians imagined us to be but 
 the vanguard of an army. Their fears were aroused 
 for friends and relatives at Vincennes, and Father 
 Gibault himself offered to proceed to that town under 
 an escort of Colonel Clark's troops, to counsel sub- 
 mission and alliance. Clark accepted his offer with 
 apparent indifference, but secret joy, put me in com- 
 mand of Father Gibault's escort, and bade me gather 
 all the information possible, in regard to the condi- 
 tion of the fort, the feeling of the people toward the 
 English, and everything I thought might be useful in 
 case we should have to storm or besiege the place. 
 
 Still our amazing good luck attended us. The 
 logic of Father Gibault, and the natural preference 
 of the people for peace which made a change of 
 masters a matter of secondary importance proved
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 197 
 
 irresistible. The citizens assembled willingly in the 
 church, swore allegiance to Virginia, elected a town 
 officer favorable to our interests, and allowed us to 
 garrison the fort, and raise our standards over it. 
 Father Gibault carried the news of our third blood- 
 less victory back to Clark, and a week later Captain 
 Helm arrived to take command of the garrison of 
 five Americans, and about a score of French recruits. 
 Colonel Clark had given him the large sounding 
 title of " Governor-General of Indian affairs on the 
 Wabash," and had charged him with a characteristic 
 answer to Tabac the head chief of the Pianke- 
 shaws, who had visited us at Vincennes, and arro- 
 gantly commanded us to convey a defiant message to 
 the chief of the Long-Knives. 
 
 " Take your choice," was Clark's answer by 
 the mouth of the interpreter Givens " between the 
 British and the Big-Knives. Choose peace or war 
 with the Long Knives and you will but which- 
 ever you select, remember it is final and prepare to 
 stand firmly by your choice. We are fighters by 
 trade, we object not to war, yet we have no present 
 quarrel with the red men, and seek none. We pre- 
 fer to save our strength to make war upon the Brit- 
 ish king " and then the ground of our quarrel with 
 Great Britain was explained as well as Givens was 
 able to do it by the use of such figures of speech 
 as the Indians could understand. 
 
 The negotiations lasted several days, nor could 
 we gather from the stolid faces of Tabac and his 
 warriors what their decision would be. At last Ta- 
 bac announced that he had made up his mind, 
 then sat in Sphinx-like silence for half an hour,
 
 198 DONALD McELROY 
 
 smoking solemnly and looking straight before him 
 into the dense smoke made by the pine knots, burn- 
 ing in the midst of our circle. His warriors did 
 likewise. Instructed by Givens, we showed neither 
 curiosity nor impatience, but remained as impassive 
 as they. 
 
 Meantime, partially to rest my eyes from the 
 smoke and flame of the pine logs, I gazed long and 
 curiously at Tabac. How crafty and subtle the ex- 
 pression about the thin close-lipped mouth, and long 
 half-shut eyes! How savage the narrow sloping 
 forehead, and the high fleshless cheek bones, smeared 
 with fantastic daubs of paint, and surmounted with 
 suggestive scalp lock, conspicuously adorned with 
 gay feathers and stiff quills. The noble red man 
 indeed! I have no patience with this absurd senti- 
 ment of admiration and pity for the Indian which 
 seems now to be coming into fashion. The gener- 
 ation of pioneers, and frontiersmen not long past, 
 realize as others never can the inherent savagery 
 of the Indians. Either we should never have come 
 to America, or we must exterminate the savages. 
 Indians and civilization repel each other like the 
 opposite poles of a magnet. 
 
 When Tabac arose deliberately to his feet at last, 
 his eyes roved around the circle, and were fixed 
 upon me with an expression of defiance, rather than 
 upon Captain Helm, at whose left I sat, showing 
 that he had felt, and resented my scrutiny. 
 
 " Warriors of the Big-Knife," he began in slow, 
 measured tones, that made an impression of rude 
 eloquence, though we understood not a word he 
 said until Givens had translated his speech; " I have
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 199 
 
 reflected long have taken counsel of my warriors, 
 and of the Great Spirit himself. I have made my 
 choice. I have reached a last decision. And when 
 Tabac, chief of the brave and noble tribe of the 
 Piankeshaws decides, it is the end there is no 
 more hesitation with him, nor with his people. We 
 are friends to the Big-Knife, and his warriors. We 
 make alliance with the tribes of Virginia. We, 
 too, are Big-Knives, we stand or fall with our pale 
 face brethren from the rising sun." 
 
 Captain Helm made gracious answer to this lan- 
 guage, interspersed with much flattery of Tabac 
 and his tribe, for their alliance was, really, of the 
 greatest importance to us, and our apparent indif- 
 ference but a part of the big game of bluff Clark 
 was playing. Then the peace pipe was passed 
 around, presents interchanged, and after bidding our 
 new allies an elaborate farewell, we returned to 
 the fort. 
 
 Just before he had sent me to Vincennes, Colonel 
 Clark, as I neglected to mention at the proper time, 
 had raised me to my old rank of Captain, and given 
 me a place on his staff, as special attache to himself 
 as the moving executive, so to speak, of the central 
 authority. Clark remained at Kaskaskia, where one 
 Indian deputation after another flocked to him to 
 make treaties of peace or alliance, while I moved 
 up the river to Cahokia, or across the prairies and 
 marshes to Vincennes, carrying his orders, making 
 reports, and gathering information. 
 
 Upon my return to Kaskaskia after my first trip 
 to Vincennes, I found Ellen more than convalescent. 
 Her vigorous youth had quickly vanquished the dis-
 
 200 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 ease after the first crisis was safely passed, and 
 she had made such rapid recovery as caused Mad- 
 ame Rocheblave to lift her hands, elevate her eye- 
 brows, and exclaim over the marvelous physical 
 powers of " zeze so veery strong Ameerikans." 
 
 I found Ellen not only bright-eyed, but plump and 
 rosy, as she had never been before, and even gay 
 among her new friends. They had already taken 
 her to their hearts, partly, I suppose, because she 
 was so devout a Catholic, partly because they had 
 been called upon to befriend and care for her, and 
 partly too, as any one must recognize, for her own 
 charming personality. No wonder Thomas had 
 been so infatuated! The thin, awkward, shy girl, 
 I remembered, with the beautiful blue eyes, set in a 
 slim, pale face, was become an indescribable com- 
 pound of girlish roundness, bloom, and sparkle, of 
 maidenly softness and brightness. Her new wom- 
 an's clothes, constructed by Angelique's deft fingers 
 of the delicate hued soft stuffs of the place, which 
 were woven of home grown flax, or of buffalo wool, 
 and dyed with native roots, hung about her in long, 
 graceful folds, that made her figure look statuesque 
 in its poses of natural grace. But even more than 
 her beauty, her manner astonished me its gracious- 
 ness, piquancy, gayety, and ease. Not Nelly Buford 
 herself, nor Miss Shippen, reigned with more charm- 
 ing assurance over her circle of admirers, than did 
 Ellen over the court of adorers which soon gathered 
 about her. 
 
 - She had been enrolled as " John Givens " in Cap- 
 tain Dillard's company, and they laid now special 
 claim to her; every one of the officers making him-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 201 
 
 self the slave of her caprices, and vying one with 
 another to flatter and to spoil her. Dr. Lafonte 
 and young Legere, a distant kinsman of the com- 
 mandant, promptly surrendered, and, presently, 
 Colonel Clark enrolled hknself among her devoted 
 admirers. There were a dozen fresh faced, sweet 
 voiced French girls of the peasant class in the village, 
 but Ellen alone had qualities to attract men like Dil- 
 lard, Clark, Thomas and me, who demanded more 
 than rounded outlines, bright eyes, and soft skin. 
 
 If once I had patronized Ellen, it was her turn 
 now, and she queened it over me ruthlessly. At our 
 very first interview she proved her power. I had 
 sought to see her alone, that I might give her in 
 plain words my opinion of her late rashness, and 
 insist that in future she take no step without con- 
 sulting Thomas, or me, in lieu of closer kinsman, 
 with better right to advise her. It seemed my duty 
 to do this, since Thomas' infatuation made him dumb 
 in her presence, and would allow him to recognize 
 no fault in her. 
 
 After keeping me waiting a good fifteen minutes, 
 she came, trailing a pale yellow robe behind her, 
 and bearing herself like a princess. 
 
 " Is this really Ellen O'Niel? " I asked, involun- 
 tarily, meeting her half way down the long room, 
 and taking both her hands in cousinly greeting. 
 
 " None other than the forlorn little Irish lass 
 you used to be kind to," and she flashed upon me an 
 irradiating smile, and drew her hands out of mine 
 with an air of gentle dignity that somehow embar- 
 rassed me. " But you did not know me in rifle- 
 men's uniform my heart need not have fluttered
 
 202 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 so that day in the forest when you planted your- 
 self before me, and looked me straight in the eye." 
 
 " It makes me tremble even yet, Ellen," I an- 
 swered, " to think of your rash conduct during the 
 last few months." 
 
 " All has turned out beautifully, Cousin Donald, 
 and I would do it all over again," and she spoke 
 gaily, but with more seriousness, as she added: 
 "Are you not risking all for freedom; and is not 
 liberty as dear to a woman as to a man? I took the 
 risk and I have won. Had I died in the attempt 
 'twould have been better than the life of slavery 
 and persecution. Besides, cousin, though your nar- 
 row Protestantism may find it hard to grant such 
 grace to Catholics, we, too, have faith in an over- 
 ruling Providence, believe in a power that can pro- 
 tect the helpless, and guide the orphan. I rode away 
 from my Uncle Thomas' house that night, unguarded 
 by man, but guided by the holy Christ and the gentle 
 Virgin," Ellen's face shone with uplifted rapture 
 as she spoke thus " By them I have been brought 
 in safety to this peaceful village of kindly, cheerful 
 people, to the care of holy Father Gibault, kind Ma- 
 dame Rocheblave, and faithful Angelique. I shall 
 not again lack friends nor suffer persecution for my 
 religion. You are a distant kinsman, 'tis true, 
 Cousin Donald, and I hold you in grateful affection 
 for past kindnesses but I will not be scolded nor 
 upbraided. I am done with that, for always. Nor 
 have I any apologies to make to any one. I was 
 driven to what I did by those who were called to 
 give me a home and affection. I repeat I would do 
 over again what I have done. If you wish to treat
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 203 
 
 me with a kinsman's kindness upon these terms I 
 shall be glad otherwise you must say farewell, 
 and leave me to my new found friends." 
 
 Never was I so completely cowed by speech from 
 the lips of any one, as by these quiet words from 
 Ellen, as she sat before me in calm dignity. Scat- 
 tered like summer smoke was my intent to reprimand 
 her once for all, and set before her the suffering 
 she had caused us. 
 
 " Did you not promise, the night we said good 
 night at the spring, to be my friend and comrade 
 always?" I answered, "and have not friends and 
 comrades the right to speak the truth to one an- 
 other? Once for all, Ellen, I must say I think you 
 acted rashly, and beg that you will never again act 
 upon impulse without taking counsel of Thomas or 
 me who are your loyal kinsmen, and would risk 
 our lives for you. I speak not to disapprove, but 
 to warn; the dangers, the risks your independent, 
 confident spirit may lead you into, frighten me. 
 And, Ellen," I went on rapidly, lest I should never 
 again be able to summon up the needful courage to 
 say it " you must not include Uncle Thomas, nor 
 my mother, in your just condemnation of Aunt Mar- 
 tha; both are sincerely grieved, and Uncle Thomas 
 half distracted with apprehension and remorse; 
 neither had a thought that you were so very un- 
 happy." 
 
 " Uncle Thomas had not the courage to take my 
 side, nor your mother to offer me a refuge both 
 preferred family peace, and their own comfort to 
 my salvation; they left no other course open to me 
 than that I took. Not even Cousin Thomas, though
 
 204 DONALD McELROY 
 
 he wished to befriend me, had the bravery to make 
 a stand on my side against his mother; he, too, was 
 cowed by her domineering spirit were I a man, 
 I would cringe to no one, not even to the woman 
 that I love." 
 
 That last sentence I remembered, and afterwards 
 it helped me to hold my own a little better against 
 Ellen's growing power over me. 
 
 " You were most unkindly treated, Ellen, and it 
 will always be a reproach upon us, something for 
 which we must all hang our heads in shame, but 
 will you not try to forgive them? They have bit- 
 terly atoned for the wrong they did you, if unhappi- 
 ness, and self reproach, can atone." 
 
 " Father Gibault says I must freely forgive them 
 ere he can absolve me from the wrong thoughts, and 
 actions of which I too have been guilty," answered 
 Ellen that catch in her voice, which so often I 
 had recalled to mind, and had never heard in any 
 other woman's " but I find no consolation in their 
 remorse. In you, Cousin Donald, I have nothing 
 to forgive, you have always been good to me. I am 
 still your friend and comrade, if you wish though 
 already you are a great and noble man, as I fore- 
 saw you would be," and again she gave me that 
 flashing smile which made my head swim. 
 
 " And you will go home with Thomas and me 
 when this business is ended? " 
 
 " I can never go back to that dreary, solemn val- 
 ley, where people think of nothing but hard work, 
 and long doleful prayers. As yet I have heard mass 
 but twice, and only once have I been to confession ; 
 it seemed to me that the spirit of my dead parents
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 205 
 
 were with me, and it brought me such joy and peace 
 as you cannot conceive. I can never be separated 
 again from the exercise of my religion. In truth I 
 have a solemn and holy purpose set before me, of 
 which I shall tell you, some day. Meantime let us 
 not talk upon this painful subject, Cousin Donald, 
 life is so good to me now, so full of pure joy, and 
 perfect happiness that I like not to recall the past 
 five years."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 During the months of August and September, 
 Clark was kept busy receiving the Indian deputa- 
 tions which came weekly to Kaskaskia to sue for 
 peace and alliance, with the famed Big-Knives and 
 his warriors. Each visit was an affair of state, and 
 must be received with due ceremony. Did the depu- 
 tation consist only of the chief of some petty sub- 
 tribe, and two or three warriors, they must have 
 audience at the fort with Colonel Clark himself, sur- 
 rounded by an armed body-guard; speeches, pres- 
 ents, and wampum belts must be ceremoniously ex- 
 changed, and the peace pipe smoked solemnly, after 
 which Clark must tender them a feast. 
 
 Born to administer large affairs, Colonel Clark 
 showed in his pacification of the Northwest Indians, 
 a remarkable shrewdness, and knowledge of human 
 nature. He used much the same tactics as those 
 found so successful in dealing with the French : 
 he over-awed them by dauntlessness of spirit, and a 
 show of far greater strength than he really pos- 
 sessed. When the desired impression had been 
 made upon them, and they had offered alliance, he 
 would adroitly win them to his purposes by friend- 
 liness and flattery. He could meet them with a 
 cpunter stoicism and subtlety that confounded them, 
 and sent them back to their tribes to tell marvelous 
 stories of the great white warrior chief, the redoubt-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 207 
 
 able Big-Knife, whose course of conquest had started 
 at the rising sun, and would be stopped only by the 
 big river towards the sun's lodge. One edict of 
 Colonel Clark well serves to illustrate his far-seeing 
 wisdom, and the extent of, his power. He forbade 
 any soldier, any citizen of Kaskaskia, or trader on 
 the river, to sell or to give a single gill of liquor to 
 an Indian within so many miles of the town and fort, 
 under heavy penalties ; and the few infringements of 
 this rule were severely punished. Ceremony, pres- 
 ents and feasting were dealt out generously to the 
 savages, but their expectations of fire-water were in- 
 variably disappointed. Some of them went away 
 sullen, but there was no rioting in Kaskaskia, and 
 no more bloody fights such as had been customary 
 between panins and Indians. 
 
 Between these and other duties, Colonel Clark 
 found some leisure for diversion, and sought it usu- 
 ally in the long room of the Commandant's house, 
 where Ellen held her court with a constantly in- 
 creasing number of subjects. Madame Rocheblave 
 had left Kaskaskia soon after Ellen's recovery, to 
 visit friends in Detroit, while awaiting the release 
 of M. Rocheblave, who had been sent to Virginia 
 with several other prisoners. But Angelique had 
 consented to accept services as Ellen's maid, and was 
 in constant attendance upon her. 
 
 Among Ellen's admirers the most indefatigable 
 and determined were Monsieur Legere, Colonel 
 Clark, Thomas and I; and for each of us she had 
 a special course of treatment that kept us hovering 
 between hope and despair. Monsieur Legere's 
 manner of attack was nightly to serenade Ellen
 
 208 DONALD McELROY 
 
 with voice and guitar, and daily to present her with 
 passionate love poems, hidden in bunches of gorge- 
 ous wild flowers, which he had gathered at risk of 
 limb and life from the most inaccessible spurs of 
 the bluff across the river. These offerings she would 
 receive with just enough appearance of pleasure, and 
 expression of appreciation to prevent that emotional 
 youth from committing suicide. Thomas, she 
 treated as she would a brother, took him to mass 
 with her, and alternately commanded, scolded, and 
 coaxed him. He alone failed to see that there was 
 naught but cousinly regard, and a degree of grati- 
 tude and pity in her heart for him. 
 
 Colonel Clark sued, as he did everything else, 
 masterfully. It was plain, too, that this had a cer- 
 tain effect upon Ellen, who moreover, could not fail 
 to be attracted by his handsome person and winning 
 manners. That personal charm felt so strongly by 
 men, even by savages and foreigners must produce a 
 more sure effect upon the feelings of the woman 
 whom he condescended to woo. Yet Ellen did not 
 acknowledge his power, but rather took pleasure in 
 making him yield to her. There was almost daily 
 warfare of words between them. She would be 
 starting to vespers with Thomas perhaps, just as 
 Clark would be mounting the porch steps. 
 
 " You are not going this afternoon, Miss Ellen," 
 in his firm tone of command; " I want you to stay 
 and talk to me." 
 
 " But I always go to vespers, Colonel Clark." 
 
 " Except when I come to see you." 
 
 " No matter who comes to see me." 
 
 " You need make exception in my case only ; I
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 209 
 
 have many duties, and can not choose my hours of 
 recreation; you can say your prayers all day, if you 
 wish." 
 
 "Vesper hour is sacred; I cannot profane it by 
 staying away from service to amuse even you, 
 Colonel Clark. Moreover I am neither French- 
 man, Indian, nor soldier ; I do not take orders from 
 the Long-Knives," and she would flash upon him a 
 look of smiling defiance, and pass on. 
 
 " You are as cruel as fair, Miss Ellen," in hurt, 
 gentle tones; "you cannot guess how weary, and 
 heart-hungry I am, or you would be more merciful. 
 Are you not the one bit of home, and comfort, and 
 cheer we soldiers have in this wilderness? Now, 
 after a day of toil, with the prospect of an hour of 
 delight with you as my only recompense, you leave 
 me thus without a word of regret." 
 
 " I must to vespers, Colonel Clark, but I shall 
 hasten back; you Can wait here for me." 
 
 And Clark would wait impatiently, Ellen return- 
 ing promptly, as she had promised, to put forth for 
 him, during the rest of the evening, the utmost of 
 her powers of fascination. 
 
 Her treatment of me was less flattering, I thought, 
 than that she accorded any of the others. I was no 
 more her best friend, her openly favored comrade. 
 On the contrary, she treated me with alternate in- 
 difference, haughtiness and patronage; she would 
 seem to seek occasions of difference, and then, when 
 I was lashed into answering her, would flaunt me 
 angrily, or mock me with sarcasms. Afterwards 
 she would repent her rudeness, and beg my pardon 
 with the sweetest humility and gentleness. But this
 
 210 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 playing hot and cold on her part kept me in a sort of 
 inward fever, and made me what I had never been 
 in my life before, irritable and quarrelsome. To 
 the men under me, I was peremptory; I was testy 
 with Thomas, and often almost rude with Clark. 
 In truth I was half frenzied with jealousy. A score 
 of times in the day, I would compare myself with 
 Clark set my appearance and qualities over 
 against his, and cast up the balance between us; but, 
 with all my leaning to my own side, I could not blind 
 myself that neither in manner, person, nor gifts 
 could I rival him. There could be little doubt as 
 to which one of us Ellen would choose when a final 
 choice was forced upon her. 
 
 The wild grape vintage was a customary festival 
 with the Kaskaskians. The woods along the river 
 were wreathed with the vines, which looped from 
 branch to branch, or from tree to tree, and even the 
 berry thickets had become trellises to support their 
 luxuriant meanderings. These wild grapes made a 
 rich, delicious wine, much prized by the people as a 
 beverage, and by the priests as an antidote to the 
 far less innocent fire water, peddled by the traders, 
 in boat loads, up and down the river. Colonel 
 Clark not only consented to the celebration of this 
 one of their frequent holidays, but agreed that the 
 soldiers might take part on condition that no liquors 
 be dispensed. 
 
 All assisted in the morning's work of gathering 
 the grapes, and piling them in the caleches, or two- 
 wheeled carts, to be hauled to the wine vats, then the 
 afternoon was given up to pleasure and feasting. 
 Games were interspersed with trials of strength and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 211 
 
 skill, upon the public square of the village ; shooting 
 at a mark, hurling the tomahawk, wrestling and rac- 
 ing were the chief contests, which were participated 
 in by Frenchmen and soldiers on equal terms. 
 Colonel Clark, Captain Montgomery, and myself 
 were the chosen judges, and we were careful to dis- 
 tribute the prizes equally, with no very strict regard 
 to merit. 
 
 The free half-breeds and the panins, with a few 
 straggling Indians, had also their games apart, pre- 
 sided over by three of our men from the fort, who 
 acted as judges. The supper was provided by 
 Colonel Clark, and besides the usual pancakes and 
 maple syrup, served at nearly all their feasts, there 
 were maize cakes, barbecued venison, corn parched, 
 ground and sweetened, wild duck and plover eggs 
 boiled and roasted, melons, pawpaws, mulberries 
 and sangaree. This supper was served by the 
 cheery matrons of Kaskaskia, from caleches backed 
 in a circle around a part of the green. Later, smil- 
 ing maidens bedecked with flowers, came out of the 
 low eaved houses, and with the youths and gayer 
 soldiers fell a dancing on the green to the sound of 
 banjo and guitar, in the light of a bright full moon, 
 beneath a star-studded dome of clearest azure. It 
 was a picture of simple Arcadian happiness, which 
 needed only the embellishments of nature to beautify 
 it, only the impulses of nature to stimulate it. 
 
 Ellen had been named " Queen of the Festa " by 
 Clark, and the day seemed diverted into an occasion 
 to honor her. It was she who pressed with dainty 
 fingers the juice from the first bunch of grapes, ere 
 they were put into vats for trampling; she who pre-
 
 212 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 sented the prizes to the victors, or crowned them 
 gracefully with the laurel wreaths. And when the 
 music sounded, Clark led her forth to tread a stately 
 measure alone with him upon the green, ere the gen- 
 eral dancing began. I did not know before that 
 either of them could dance for never had I seen 
 such sport until Nelly Buford had shown me the 
 latest steps at Colonel Morgan's. But Ellen was a 
 daily astonishment, and Clark had learned much in 
 his adventurous life. 
 
 When they had thus inaugurated the evening's 
 gayety as also they had presided over the day's fes- 
 tivities, Ellen and Clark wandered through the vil- 
 lage together, in the moonlight, she leaning on his 
 arm, and he bending over her like an accepted lover. 
 Half an hour later I saw them seated side by side 
 on the steps, under the nave of the church, absorbed 
 in each other, and entirely unconscious of me, as I 
 passed them on the opposite side of the street. 
 Ellen was all in white, save for a black lace scarf 
 she wore Spanish fashion, about her head, and 
 shoulders, and in the moonlight she was a radiant 
 vision of girlish loveliness as Clark by her 
 side was a picture of handsome young manhood. 
 " They would be well mated," I thought with a sigh 
 as I passed on, homesick and heartsick. In the 
 darkness of the deserted barracks, I sought my sol- 
 dier's couch, and lay a long time awake, thinking 
 longingly of home and loved ones and wrestling with 
 the demon of jealousy which threatened to master 
 me. 
 
 A deep sigh aroused me after awhile, from the 
 half dream into which I had slipped, and I heard
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 213 
 
 Thomas' voice, praying in low tones. Poor 
 Thomas. He was even more unhappy than I, for 
 he had deserted home, parents, and religion for his 
 idol, who but treated him with cousinly kindness. 
 Yet I rejoiced, though I pitied him; there was hope 
 for Thomas, since his sorrow and disappointment 
 but drove him back to God, and his prayers. 
 
 Colonel Clark sent for me next morning, and be- 
 gan, in his most peremptory manner to announce that 
 he desired me to make ready to start to Virginia 
 immediately, to deliver certain dispatches to the 
 Governor and the Assembly. He wished his ap- 
 pointments confirmed, and the conquered territory of 
 the Northwest formally annexed to Virginia. Also, 
 he must have money, supplies, and reinforcements 
 for a prompt advance on Detroit, and later on, 
 Quebec. All Canada might be taken, with the aid 
 of our French and Indian allies, had we but a 
 nucleus of American soldiers, and sufficient means 
 to forward the enterprise. I must not only deliver 
 his request to that effect, but urge the members of 
 the Assembly, publicly and privately, as I had oppor- 
 tunity, to support the project, and to vote money and 
 men for it. 
 
 When he had said all this, without asking my 
 opinion, I stopped him by suggesting that perhaps 
 I could not be earnest and eloquent enough in a cause 
 my reason and judgment did not sanction; that I 
 had once helped to storm Quebec, and knew the 
 almost insurmountable difficulties of the attempt 
 without a large army and plenty of cannon; that I 
 did not believe our allies would be of any value in
 
 214 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 such an enterprise, and that in my opinion we would 
 only be risking what we had secured, or abandoning 
 it more probably, for a success dependent upon a 
 hundred unlikely chances. 
 
 Colonel Clark had gazed at me haughtily as I 
 spoke a manner the more nettling because of his 
 previous friendliness and comradeship with me 
 and now he reprimanded me sharply for having for- 
 gotten my position as a subordinate, whose business 
 it was to obey, not to advise, and then added: 
 
 " Can you start, sir, to Virginia to-morrow, with 
 my dispatches and commands? " 
 
 " No, Colonel Clark," I answered with a haughti- 
 ness that matched his own: " I remain in Kaskaskia 
 till it is my pleasure to leave; my term of enlistment 
 expires next week, after which I am no longer under 
 orders. Confine me if you please, in the guard- 
 house, while I am still in your service, but I shall not 
 go to Virginia on this errand." 
 
 " And I know your reason for this act of disre- 
 spect and disobedience, sir. You are jealous of my 
 suit to Ellen O'Neil." 
 
 " As my cousin's lawful protector, I stay by her 
 side until she is safely placed with the guardian she 
 shall choose upon reaching her legal majority." 
 
 " Your jealousy has been made evident before, 
 Captain McElroy, but know this, I recognize not 
 your right to interfere with me in any way, nor to 
 dictate to Miss O'Neil upon any subject. I shall 
 warn her, sir, and watch you," and Clark had grown 
 so angry that he talked now half random foolishness, 
 and glared at me savagely. 
 
 No less angry, I replied, " And I shall watch you,
 
 "CousiN DONALD! COLONEL CLARK!" SHE CALLED SHARPLY.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 215 
 
 Colonel Clark. A man who can take advantage of 
 his position of authority to send his rival across the 
 continent with dispatches that a common courier 
 might as well carry is capable of taking other and 
 less honorable advantages, perhaps." 
 
 " No man dare insult me, McElroy, without 
 knowing that he must apologize or fight. Take 
 your choice; I am no longer your superior officer," 
 and he threw aside his epauleted coat, and plumed 
 hat, and drawing his sword, stood before me, pallid 
 and rigid with anger. 
 
 " Sir," I answered, fully as furious as he, " you 
 have so lorded it over Frenchmen, panins and In- 
 dians, that you seem to have forgotten the respect 
 due a comrade your equal in all save military 
 rank. Your challenge, Colonel Clark, I accept with 
 pleasure ! " I bowed to him, drew my sword and 
 stood at guard. 
 
 Neither of us were practiced swordsmen, but both 
 were lithe, active, and possessed of trained eyes, and 
 arms. We fought with small science, yet with some 
 skill, and in deadly earnest. Without doubt one or 
 the other of us would have been killed or badly 
 wounded, had not a startling interruption paralyzed 
 the arm of each, just when both were wrought up 
 to the killing frenzy. I was fighting desperately and 
 so was Clark, when, suddenly, Ellen's voice rang 
 above the clash of our swords, and the panting emis- 
 sion of our breath : 
 
 "Cousin Donald! Colonel Clark!" she called 
 sharply, and each lowered his weapon and turned to 
 face her. She stood in the doorway, her eyes glow- 
 ing, her face quite pale, and Father Gibault stood
 
 216 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 behind her, looking more perturbed than I had ever 
 seen him. 
 
 " I know not whose the fault," she added scorn- 
 fully, " but each is less the knight and patriot, in my 
 esteem, for this rash deed. You would kill each 
 other and bring destruction upon your patriotic en- 
 terprise, and death to these men, whose lives are in 
 your keeping? Bah! Men are children ; their pas- 
 sions rule them ! Father Gibault, will you stay with 
 Colonel Clark and soothe his anger? You have 
 hurt me grievously, Colonel Clark, and I thought 
 you my friend " and now was heard the break in 
 Ellen's voice which tugged always at one's heart- 
 strings. 
 
 "Forgive me, Miss Ellen!" stammered Clark; 
 " I have no quarrel with your cousin; it was, as you 
 say, foolish anger and rashness. But in justice I 
 must confess that I forced this fight upon McElroy," 
 and my generous comrade looked frankly at me. 
 
 " Nor have I just grounds of quarrel with you, 
 Colonel Clark," I responded. " I was disrespectful 
 in my words and manner. Will you accept my 
 apology? " and I he.ld out my hand. 
 
 Clark took and shook it warmly, while Ellen 
 smiled upon us, and Father Gibault blessed us with 
 low spoken benediction. 
 
 " Come with me, Cousin Donald ! " commanded 
 Ellen; " I have something I would say to you." 
 
 We walked together toward the town, for some 
 time in silence, then Ellen said, blushing as she 
 spoke : 
 
 " Father Gibault tells me that you and Colonel 
 Clark quarreled about me, Cousin Donald. It was
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 217 
 
 not kind, nor respectful, and it was very fool- 
 ish, if jealousy prompted you, for I shall never 
 marry." 
 
 " Never marry, Ellen, and why? " I asked in 
 great astonishment. 
 
 "Did not I tell you, Cousin, that I had set before 
 myself a high and holy purpose? I have sworn a 
 vow of consecration. As soon as I have reached 
 my majority, I shall take the veil, and pass the re- 
 mainder of my life in prayer, and God's holy service. 
 Will you tell Colonel Clark this for me? And 
 neither of you, I beg, will ever again couple me, even 
 in your thoughts with love and marriage. I shall 
 be the bride of the Church, I trust, but never the 
 bride of mortal. God saved me from an awful fate 
 in answer to my vow of consecration. To choose a 
 life of worldly pleasure would be in me dishonesty in 
 its worst form. Help me to keep my vow, Cousin 
 Donald; make me strong to do the right." 
 
 The touching appeal of her voice and manner as 
 she spoke thus, it is not possible to describe. She 
 seemed to throw herself upon my strength, to im- 
 plore me to help her to sacrifice herself. I saw how 
 strongly she felt all she said, how impossible it would 
 be to make her see now the folly of her purpose, and 
 the illogic of her thoughts. She wanted my sympa- 
 thy and encouragement yet how could I give it to 
 her, at risk of forfeiting my happiness, and possibly 
 hers ! Yet I could not fail her. 
 
 " Dear Ellen," I said, with all the deep tenderness 
 of my heart for her trembling in my words, " what- 
 ever you finally conclude is your duty, that I shall 
 help you to do, with all the sympathy and courage
 
 218 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 I can give you. But take no step rashly, nor with- 
 out consulting Father Gibault. Our heavenly 
 Father has, I truly believe, guided you thus far; let 
 us look to Him for further guidance."
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 There was no lack of volunteers to convey Colonel 
 Clark's dispatches to Virginia. More than half of 
 the men it appeared were anxious to return to their 
 homes at the expiration t)f their term of enlistment. 
 In that case, but a handful of us would be left, after 
 October, to hold the three forts, and keep down the 
 Indians. Colonel Clark resorted to entreaties and 
 promises, and at last induced about three hundred 
 of the men to consent to reenlist for six months more. 
 Thirty-five were determined to go, and even the 
 prospect of being rewarded, by the gratitude of Vir- 
 ginia, with royal land grants in the new territory, 
 could not keep them longer. 
 
 " If Virginia did not choose to send recruits to 
 hold the territory, we had won for her," they ar- 
 gued, " she deserved to lose it. Meantime their 
 own families might be suffering privation or danger, 
 and their own lands be lapsing again into the state 
 of wilderness from which they had so lately rescued 
 them. They could risk no more, sacrifice no fur- 
 ther not even for Virginia." One was forced to 
 admit there was reason in their excuses. 
 
 Thomas, to my small surprise, was one of those 
 who could not be persuaded to remain. Clark 
 asked me to remonstrate with him, and I did so but 
 without success. 
 
 " I've nothing to stay for," he answered; " Ellen
 
 220 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 rejects my love, and it is only what I deserve for my 
 stubborn following of my own will, and my disre- 
 spect to my mother. Since neither Ellen's death nor 
 her misery lies at our door; since she has reached a 
 safe and pleasant harborage among people of her 
 own religion, and can take her choice between a nun- 
 nery in Quebec, or a husband who may be either 
 military hero, or French Catholic as she will I 
 feel that my responsibility is ended. I shall go 
 home, Donald, beg my parents' pardon, renew my 
 vows, and resume the work to which I was called, 
 and upon which I wickedly turned my back to pur- 
 sue a foolish course." 
 
 " I cannot understand your feelings, Thomas," I 
 replied, out of patience with what sounded to me like 
 spiteful cant; "you joined our expedition with two 
 specific objects in view: to regain your lost health, 
 and possibly find trace of Ellen. You have accom- 
 plished both objects; besides, have done your share 
 toward our fortunate achievement. To abandon 
 us now, before our success is permanently assured, 
 and Ellen safely settled, seems to me to be an act 
 of childishness." 
 
 " Yours, Donald, is the soldier's point of view, and 
 I cannot complain of your disapproval. I see it all 
 differently, however. It was wrong of me to come, 
 in the first place, with the motives that brought me ; 
 the only reparation I can make is to go back as soon 
 as possible, confess humbly, and reconsecrate to God 
 and duty all my future life." 
 
 I said no more, for I saw Thomas' will was set; 
 his present state of mind was as unreasonable as 
 that I had found him in eight months before.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 221 
 
 There are men to whom a medium course is not pos- 
 sible they are born fanatics; Thomas was one of 
 these, but, in justice to him, I must add here, that he 
 grew saner as he grew older^and that, with the com- 
 ing of maturity, what fanaticism was left took the 
 form of humble service in God's name, to his fellow 
 men. 
 
 Colonel Clark's force now numbered barely a hun- 
 dred men, including officers. A score were left at 
 Cahokia ; the rest were with him at Kaskaskia. It 
 seemed wise to preserve a show of strength at both 
 places, since Indian deputations were coming to one 
 or the other of the two forts, all through the fall, 
 to tender to Colonel Clark the allegiance or submis- 
 sion of their tribes. Being but half a day's march 
 apart, our force could quickly be massed at either of 
 these points. 
 
 Captain Helm, backed chiefly by his high sounding 
 title of " Governor-general of Indian Affairs on the 
 Wabash," with a garrison of five, held Vincennesl 
 Should an English force march against it there 
 would be no chance for defense; for that reason, 
 that Vincennes might be strongly garrisoned, it 
 seemed imperative for us to have speedy ree'n- 
 forcements from Virginia. It was from Vincennes 
 that Colonel Clark was planning to advance on De- 
 troit, but I had never any hope of sufficient reenforce- 
 ments to make such advance feasible, even in Clark's 
 daring estimation, so gave myself no anxiety as to 
 that rash project. 
 
 A rumor that Vincennes had been taken by the 
 British reached us about the middle of December,
 
 222 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 but a few weeks after the thirty-six had departed 
 for Virginia. The rumor lacked confirmation, how- 
 ever, and Colonel Clark eagerly awaited the confi- 
 dently expected reinforcements. 
 
 After the cold autumn rains set in, visits from the 
 Indian tribes were less frequent, and presently with 
 the coming of winter they ceased. The arrival on 
 Christmas eve, therefore, of a large deputation of 
 much befeathered warriors, and their chief, caused 
 some excitement, the more so as they were re- 
 ported to be Miamis from Lake Michigan. This 
 tribe so far had held aloof from us, and was said 
 to be faithful to the English. They demanded an 
 interview with the white chief, Long-Knife, and 
 asked that he bring only his most trusted warriors 
 to the council chamber, since they had secret matters 
 of weight and importance to discuss. 
 
 Colonel Clark summoned his officers, and five 
 others, and the conference began in the large room 
 of the fort where Clark and I had indulged in 
 our sword play some days before. The chief was, 
 I thought, not past middle age, though it is difficult 
 to guess the age of a redskin. He had a counte- 
 nance of unusual cruelty and subtlety. His tall 
 frame was powerfully built, and his tongue was both 
 eloquent and cunning. 
 
 " Long-Knife and his warriors had come," he 
 said, " as strangers to the land of the Algonquins ; 
 they had come to bid the great tribes of the red men, 
 whose fathers had owned the plains washed by the 
 fresh seas, and the great Father-of-Waters, from 
 the beginning, to declare war against their powerful 
 English father, who had given them their guns, and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 223 
 
 had protected them against their hereditary enemies, 
 the Hurons and the Iroquois. It was said that the 
 warriors of the white chief, Big-Knife, were about 
 to conquer the warriors of the great English father, 
 but were willing to protect the Miamis, and to leave 
 them in peaceful possession of their lands. He and 
 his braves had come to ask if these things were true, 
 and if the Big-Knives sought peace and friendship 
 with the tribes of the Miami." 
 
 Colonel Clark responded in his usual way, mixing 
 adroitly with his parade of cool arrogance, and en- 
 tire indifference, a tone of gracious condescension. 
 " The Miamis might choose for themselves; he had 
 no quarrel with the red man did they wish the 
 redoubtable warriors of Long-Knife, and the great 
 and war-like nation they came from, on the shore 
 of the eastern ocean, for their friends and brothers 
 did they wish, as so many of their brethren had 
 done, to make alliance with us, it would be well with 
 them, but we were used to war and liked it if the 
 Miamis preferred war good; it was theirs to 
 choose. But they must decide once for all, and war 
 once begun the Long-Knives would not be the first to 
 sue for peace." 
 
 A long silence followed Clark's speech, during 
 which the Indians gazed fixedly before them, while 
 the air grew dense with the strong tobacco smoke 
 they exhaled, in great deliberate puffs. We also 
 smoked stolidly on; and the chief's face was not 
 more a mask than Clark's. In the midst of this 
 silent ring of grim smokers as an angelic appari- 
 tion floats into the vision of a dream glided Ellen. 
 She came to my side with smiling countenance, on
 
 224 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 which was no other expression than that of idle curi- 
 osity, gazed calmly into the hideous faces of the 
 savages, and pointing to the crimson aigrette among 
 the head feathers of one, and the black heron quills 
 worn by another asked me in English to buy them 
 for her. Then without changing her expression, or 
 looking again at me, she lowered her tones to a whis- 
 per, and scarcely moved her lips in saying, 
 
 " When I go out wait then follow," and 
 even while she spoke thus, she was making gestures 
 of admiration over the Indian's ornaments, continu- 
 ing to do so, and to comment upon them to us, as a 
 child might. 
 
 Presently the chief began again to speak. Ellen 
 listened gravely for a few moments, shook her head, 
 smiled, and passed out. In doing so she walked 
 behind Clark, and uttered a whisper like a sigh. 
 " Beware ! Be on your guard ! " 
 
 Clark gave no sign to indicate that she had spoken, 
 and after lingering at the door for a moment, Ellen 
 went out, and we heard her singing gayly, on her 
 way back to the town. 
 
 But for her words to me, I should have thought, 
 as evidently the Indians did, that she had wandered 
 into the council chamber, prompted by idle curiosity 
 alone, and finding small amusement there, had wan- 
 dered out again. The free customs among their 
 own squaws, in regard to their comings and goings, 
 made the incident seem natural to the Indians. 
 
 A meaning look from Clark, the barest glance of 
 significance, made known to me that he too had been 
 spoken to, and was on the watch for something un- 
 usual. Ellen was not found until I had gone all the
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 225 
 
 way to her house, where she was walking the floor 
 in the greatest excitement, awaiting my arrival. 
 
 " Cousin Donald," she whispered, as if the walls 
 had really ears, " the fort is surrounded by armed 
 savages, they are lurking in the bushes and in the 
 chimney corners, crouching under the steps, and be- 
 hind trees they are everywhere. Without doubt 
 they await the signal for an attack; meantime the 
 soldiers are scattered about the village, and ten went 
 this morning, as you know, to carry the powder to 
 Cahokia." 
 
 " We must take measures at once to collect the 
 men. You have already warned Colonel Clark? " 
 
 "Yes; and I have sent Angelique to seek every 
 soldier she can find loitering about the village, and 
 to bid them all come here." 
 
 "Well done, Ellen! I shall muster them as 
 quietly as possible and lead them to the fort. Have 
 you thought of anything else that should be done? " 
 
 " M, Legere, who was walking on the bluff with 
 me when I saw the Indians, with Colonel Clark's 
 spy glass, has already started to Cahokia, mounted 
 on the fleetest horse in the village. If only you can, 
 by some strategy, delay the signal until the men from 
 Cahokia can get here." 
 
 " They will, I imagine, wait for twilight. The 
 savages seem to rely much upon the aid of surprise 
 and confusion. If Legere's horse is fleet, and they 
 have boats in readiness at Cahokia, reinforcements 
 should reach us by midnight; but that will be too late, 
 I fear. It will hardly be possible to divert the In- 
 dians from their purpose so long. But, now that 
 we are warned, we may find a way to outwit them."
 
 226 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 Having disposed my men in the neighborhood of 
 the fort, in a convenient clump of trees, I told them 
 to wait in absolute silence for the sound of my tur- 
 key call within the fort and then to surround the 
 council chamber with a rush, making, as they did so, 
 all the hideous noises possible. 
 
 The chief was still speaking when I returned to 
 the council chamber, but his manner and his words 
 were less conciliatory and his warriors were scowl- 
 ing ominously. 
 
 " Let my friend, and brother chief, speak for the 
 great American father, General Washington, since 
 you profess to doubt my word," said Colonel Clark, 
 as, a moment later, the chief concluded his second 
 wordy and pointless harangue. " Tell the chief, 
 Captain McElroy, since you were present on the 
 day it happened, how the warriors of Chief Wash- 
 ington defeated the warriors of the English father, 
 on the great battlefield west of the Alleghanies, and 
 how you took prisoners a whole tribe of them at 
 Saratoga." 
 
 Stepping into the midst of the circle, I told them 
 of the surrender of Saratoga, vaunting much the 
 courage of my tribe, and the war-like skill of our 
 chiefs, and ending thus : " Before many more 
 moons have waxed and waned, the English will 
 mount again their white winged birds, their great 
 ships, and sail back across the wide waters to their 
 own land, leaving all this country subject to the great 
 confederation of the white American tribes. And 
 when the English are gone, and our great chief 
 Washington shall march his armies against the still 
 hostile Indians, woe to those who have refused our
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 227 
 
 friendship ! They shall be shaken as ripe fruit from 
 the boughs; scattered to the four, corners of the 
 earth, as fruit blossoms by the wind of an April 
 storm." 
 
 The Indians listened to me at first with solemn 
 stolidity, then began to utter low grunts of unbelief, 
 or anger, and at last to exchange black looks, and 
 to scowl at me threateningly. Still they smoked on ; 
 still Colonel Clark and his councilors smoked si- 
 lently, paying no sort of heed to the angry demon- 
 strations of the savages. 
 
 The sun set, meanwhile, and what with the fast- 
 coming winter's twilight without, and the thick fog 
 of smoke within, one could scarcely see the faces 
 about him well enough to distinguish white face from 
 red, friend from foe. 
 
 As I sat down, the chief laid aside his pipe, with 
 the utmost deliberation, and rose to his feet, tower- 
 ing in the midst of his warriors, who closely copied 
 all his expressions and actions. We rose, also, and 
 the two half circles faced each other grimly, while 
 the murky redness of the sun's last rays cast a mo- 
 mentary lurid illumination over the scene. 
 
 With a quick gesture the chief drew from his long 
 robe of white bear's skin two wampum belts the 
 peace and war belts and flung them with haughty 
 and insulting air upon the table. 
 
 " There are two belts of wampum," he said, and 
 the Indians crowded closer about him; "you know 
 what they mean. Choose which you will ! " 
 
 There was awesome silence for a moment. For 
 the second time in my life I knew the feeling of 
 subtle, unreasoning terror, such as must precede a
 
 228 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 panic; but again with a tremendous effort of will 
 I controlled the impulse, and looked calmly from one 
 to another of the scowling, cruel faces watching, 
 as beasts do, for a chance to spring. 
 
 Clark gave each a calm, undaunted stare, then 
 fixed his deliberate, scornful gaze upon the chief, 
 picked up the wampum belts on the point of his 
 sword, took them in his right hand, and drawing 
 himself to his utmost height, flung them full into the 
 face of the chief, as he said in tones of contempt : 
 
 " Begone, ye dogs ! Back to your squaws, and 
 your beaver traps ! " 
 
 Upon this instant I blew my turkey call, long, and 
 shrilly. From without came the sound as of a rush- 
 ing multitude, mingled with yells, whoops, and howls. 
 The Indians seemed suddenly cowed and gathered 
 together in a huddled group. 
 
 " We are trapped! " called the chief, and made a 
 leap for the door, followed by the rest. The sav- 
 ages without were fleeing also. Clark called out in 
 loud and positive commands that they should be 
 neither killed nor hindered. 
 
 " Let them run like the coward dogs they are," he 
 said, " we care neither to capture their living nor to 
 bury their dead carcasses." 
 
 In the midst of the excitement, reinforcements 
 arrived from Cahokia, Legere having met a squad 
 on their way to Kaskaskia. Clark now stationed 
 guards all around the fort and the town, and ordered 
 that the soldiers hold themselves in readiness to re- 
 pulse a night attack. The Indians loitered all night 
 in the bushes about the fort, and we could hear them 
 arguing hotly. When morning came, they sent in
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 229 
 
 a deputation of three to sue for peace, after which 
 they hastily departed. 
 
 I shall not now relate an incident which happened 
 later that night when some of the loitering Indians 
 attempted to take terrible revenge on Ellen, whose 
 warning to Clark they afterwards suspected, and 
 from which it was my very good fortune to save her. 
 Thus repaying twice over, since her life was twice 
 as valuable as mine, the debt I owed her, and prov- 
 ing that I counted my own naught, as weighed 
 against her safety and her honor.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 For four days, a fine, thick rain had been descend- 
 ing persistently from the low, gray-blanketed sky, 
 and a wet mist rose from the sodden earth to meet 
 it. The soil reeked with dampness; it oozed from 
 the walls of the stone or stuccoed houses, dripped 
 from the sloping roofs of rambling porches, satu- 
 rated one's clothes, and permeated one's blood. 
 The Kaskaskia River, pushed out of its banks by 
 its swollen tributaries, had overflowed all the bot- 
 toms, and banked the waters of the bayous up into 
 the hills. The village was surrounded by water on 
 three sides, and from the fort one could see nothing 
 save the dreary waste of still, dull water. Even 
 the reeds, canes, and grasses which ordinarily 
 fringed the bayous, adding something of life and 
 grace, were now submerged. 
 
 In all the village there was but one cheerful, woo- 
 ing spot : the room in the late Commandant's 
 house, made bright by the presence of Ellen, and 
 kept warm and cheery by the crackling logs piled 
 high in the wide fireplace. Here Ellen gave gra- 
 cious welcome to officer and private, priest and 
 native, coureur de bois from Canada, trader from 
 New Orleans, and scout from the eastern settle- 
 ments whoever might chance our way, so he 
 deport himself gentlemanwise. And now, since 
 the winter and the rains had settled upon us, since
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 231 
 
 the Indian deputations had ceased to trouble us, 
 and traders were rare, the town afforded the offi- 
 cers no other diversion than a twice daily visit to 
 Queen Eleanor's audience chamber. 
 
 Colonel Clark, Captains Bowman, Montgom- 
 ery, Harrod and I, with Legere and Dr. Lafonte 
 occupied usually the inner circle around the fire, 
 Ellen throned in our midst My quill falls from 
 my hand and I lose myself in the scenes which my 
 memory recalls so vividly that almost I live them 
 over again. Ellen's graceful head, outlined by 
 dark ringlets, rests against the white bear skin 
 which covers her chair; her slender hands are 
 crossed in her lap, and her arched feet, in their gay 
 moccasins, are half buried in the panther's skin 
 thrown over her foot rest. The fire, of seasoned 
 logs three feet in length, lights the low-ceiled stone 
 room with a vivid glow and suffuses the atmosphere 
 with a fragrant warmth. This glow of the flames 
 plays becomingly on Ellen's rich, soft coloring, and 
 even brings out the shadows made by the long lashes 
 upon her cheeks. Also it shows plainly the varied 
 colors and markings of the wild skins hung thick 
 upon the wall, and the gay stripes in the heavy In- 
 dian mats upon the floor. 
 
 Better still than the cheerful scene was the pleasant 
 talk that filled the room, the bright, earnest discus- 
 sions which did more to keep us keyed to our other- 
 wise dreary task than all the promises that we could 
 make ourselves of future fortune and renown. Who 
 can gauge the value of woman's social tact and sym- 
 pathy? In all ages they have been magnets around 
 which great thoughts and noble deeds have focused.
 
 2 3 2 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 Some of the conversations held in the long, stone 
 room at Kaskaskia seem to me to have been worthy 
 the most brilliant salons in Paris, or the most famous 
 of London coffee-houses. Ellen was never one of 
 those chattering women though she could express 
 herself pithily and gracefully when she had anything 
 to say but she was the most inspiring listener I 
 have ever seen. 
 
 Colonel Clark was a bold and brilliant talker, 
 though sometimes arrogant and boastful. Legere, 
 who had been bred and educated in Paris, had cul- 
 ture, and a keen tongue. Bowman was a man of 
 careful observation, shrewd thinking, and close rea- 
 soning; and my own love of mental exercise made me 
 an ambitious aspirant in these conversational bouts, 
 over which Ellen presided with inspiring guidance. 
 
 The future of America was the subject we often- 
 est discussed* perhaps, and the one upon which we 
 diverged, too, most widely. Colonel Clark favored 
 the organization of thirteen free states, confederated 
 as loosely as possible. I was for a close federation 
 with a strong central government. All the delays 
 and difficulties of our war were due to the lack of a 
 central authority, it seemed to me. And even after 
 our independence should be achieved we must fall to 
 pieces, I argued, or become the prey of European 
 powers unless we sought strength in a firmly ce- 
 mented union. 
 
 " But Virginia," argued Clark, " had everything 
 to lose, and nothing to gain by union. With the Il- 
 linois territory added to her possessions she would 
 be the largest, richest, and strongest, of the States, 
 and could dominate the rest. No union would be
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 233 
 
 agreed to by the other States which did not provide 
 for the territorial reduction of the Old Dominion 
 for her relinquishment, doubtless, of all we had won 
 for her, and that we would never consent to. Why 
 should Virginia voluntarily weaken herself in order 
 to strengthen a union which would control all her 
 resources? " 
 
 To this Ellen responded, taking sides with me: 
 " A course of unselfish patriotism was the only course 
 worthy of Virginia, and the only one consistent with 
 her admirable policy so far. The building of a 
 free, mighty, and glorious republic in America which 
 might become a pattern for future democracies was 
 the object for which all true Virginians and all en- 
 lightened patriots should be willing to sacrifice ev- 
 erything." 
 
 Legere agreed with Clark, Bowman with me, and 
 our argument waxed warm always to be quieted 
 or diverted by Ellen's skillful management. One 
 day, however, Clark was more arrogant than usual, 
 and I more vehement, so that at last we quarreled 
 like school boys. 
 
 Ellen's sarcasm, as she rebuked us, seemed di- 
 rected at me rather than at Clark, and I left the 
 room in an unseemly rage, being for several days too 
 sore, and too much ashamed of myself, to return. 
 
 No loafing place was left me, now, save the large 
 room in the barracks, where the men were accus- 
 tomed to assemble. On a certain afternoon it be- 
 came unbearable. The chimney smoked, the damp 
 logs burned grudgingly, the soldiers, who were now 
 in the town, slept snoring on the floor, wrapped in 
 their blankets, or sprawled on the benches, and
 
 234 DONALD McELROY 
 
 smoked strong pipes. My heart ached with home 
 longing; for but an hour with the dear circle around 
 the cheerful hearth, in the big room, I would at that 
 moment have resigned all the prospects of my life 
 save only my hope of winning Ellen. I could stand 
 it within no longer, and wrapping my cloak around 
 me, and pulling my bearskin cap over my ears, set 
 out to walk to the boat landing. It would afford me 
 a moment's diversion to see how far the water had 
 risen since yesterday. Then the lower end of the 
 wharf was an inch under water. 
 
 Now it was completely submerged, and the ground 
 all about it. If a boat should chance to come to 
 Kaskaskia it must seek precarious landing upon a 
 rock, which in dry weather, was half way up the low 
 bluff on this side of the river, below the town. I 
 made my way to this rock, and stood looking out 
 on the formless waste of waters with a new sympa- 
 thy for the victims of the flood, and a sudden emo- 
 tion of deep thankfulness for the rock-ribbed moun- 
 tains, rolling hills, upland meadows and well re- 
 stricted, gentle streams of our dear valley. He 
 who would might come west to dwell in the rich 
 alluvial valley of the Mississippi, and her tributaries 
 as for me, I wished no other heritage than one 
 of the fertile, smiling farms in the valley of Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
 As I gazed thus, my mind upon my own land 
 rather than upon this desolation, a moving speck 
 appeared upon the waters, and rapidly approached. 
 Yes, it was a boat, one of those long, deep, swift 
 boats used by the coureurs, and the traders. The 
 two men propelling it were standing, evidently look-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 235 
 
 ing for the wharf. I called and signaled to them 
 to drift a little down stream, and land upon the rock; 
 then I clambered to its lower edge, and stood in 
 readiness to help them. I had by this time recog- 
 nized Colonel Vigo and his servant. A month be- 
 fore they had stopped with us on their way to the 
 Illinois country, when Colonel Vigo had offered to 
 spy out for Colonel Clark the real condition of af- 
 fairs at Vincennes, and to send or to bring him word. 
 His coming back so soon foreboded ill news; he 
 would hardly have returned at such inclement season, 
 but to warn us. We had hardly counted on such 
 friendship from him, though we knew that he wished 
 well to the cause of America. Moreover, he had 
 seemed to conceive a strong friendship both for 
 Colonel Clark and myself. 
 
 Sardinian by birth, soldier of fortune by profes- 
 sion, Spanish officer by rank won in Spanish wars, he 
 was to me a most interesting character. Bold, yet 
 cautious, rash yet diplomatic, shrewd yet daring, ac- 
 complished gentleman yet reckless adventurer, In- 
 dian by mode of life, but in manner and preferred 
 tongue French he was a type of that age and that 
 civilization, which alone could have produced his 
 like. 
 
 " Ah, McElroy," he called to me, as I gave him 
 my hand to help him spring ashore, speaking in 
 what he called English tongue, but which was really 
 an impossible dialect, composed of a conglomerate 
 of English, French, Italian, Spanish and Indian 
 w r ords, so that I do not attempt to reproduce it, but 
 give only the substance of his utterances, " It is you 
 then, and where is the Colonel? "
 
 236 DONALD McELROY 
 
 "Visiting," I answered, rather curtly; " do you 
 come from Vincennes? " 
 
 " So the Colonel is courting the fair Americaness, 
 eh ? and you, mon ami, sulk upon the rock ! Is it 
 that you have surrendered? I thought it not pos- 
 sible for a stubborn Scotchman to own defeat but 
 this is no time for banter. Yes, Captain McElroy, 
 I come from Vincennes, and I have for the Colonel 
 important news. He must arouse himself from the 
 idle pleasure of paying court to beauty, and go back 
 to the arduous work of a soldier would he hold his 
 footing on the Wabash." 
 
 Meantime we had reached the village, and were 
 soon before the Commandant's house. A panin 
 summoned Clark for us, and together we walked 
 toward the fort, while Colonel Vigo told how Vin- 
 cennes had fallen, and outlined clearly the present 
 state of affairs at that place. The fort had been 
 repaired and restocked, and was garrisoned by a 
 force of eighty mixed English and Canadians. The 
 French inhabitants were overawed, and the Wabash 
 Indians were in sympathy with the English. The 
 Miamis, who had recently made a pretended treaty 
 with us, were really agents of Hamilton, having 
 been hired by him to kill or capture Clark, and as 
 many of his men as possible. Having been disap- 
 pointed in their anticipations of big scalp money, 
 they were awaiting surlily a chance of revenge. 
 The French were, however, in heart, still loyal to us, 
 and Father Gibault who had been all the time 
 with Captain Helm, as also had Scout Givens was 
 using all his diplomacy for us. It was due to his 
 insistence that Colonel Vigo was released, and al-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 237 
 
 lowed to leave the town, even though he refused to 
 swear that he would do nothing hostile to the British 
 cause. 
 
 Clark heard Colonel Vigo to the end, then asked 
 two or three questions as to General Hamilton's ex- 
 pectation of reinforcements, or apparent apprehen- 
 sion lest he be attacked by the Americans. Colonel 
 Vigo answered that he seemed to anticipate neither 
 the one nor the other, whereupon Clark turned 
 to his officers, now gathered about him, and said 
 in the tone of a man promulgating some joyful 
 news. 
 
 " Men, we march at once to Vincennes ! We are 
 too near success to yield to the first reverse. Have 
 the drum beat for roll call, McElroy ! " 
 
 When all the men, and many of the villagers, were 
 assembled on the parade ground before the fort, 
 Clark clambered upon the body of a caleche and 
 made them one of his stirring speeches, recalling the 
 treachery of General Hamilton and the successful 
 strategem of Captain Helm. 
 
 At its conclusion, loud cheers rang forth, and the 
 men crowded about the caleche. 
 
 " Right, Colonel," called one of the men, " we 
 must thrash this * hair-buyer ' General; he has been 
 needing a lesson for some time." 
 
 " We'll thrash him, Colonel, never doubt it ! " 
 called another. 
 
 " If the Kaskaskians wish to help us if they 
 have found us true allies and kind friends, we 
 promise them full recognition and reward with our 
 regular soldiers," added Clark. " Wish any of you 
 to enlist with us? "
 
 238 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " I ! I ! I ! " came from a dozen throats, in 
 chorus. 
 
 " Legere shall captain you, if as many as twenty- 
 five enlist," added Clark. " Will you take down 
 their names, Legere, and organize your company? " 
 turning to that Frenchman, who accepted both the 
 honor and the task with enthusiasm. 
 
 The commons now presented a lively and almost 
 a cheerful scene; the men gathered in groups here 
 and there, talking excitedly; drums were beating, and 
 the villagers chattering and gesticulating. Sud- 
 denly, too, the western sun broke through environ- 
 ing mist and cloud, and poured over the scene a 
 crimson glow, which might have been a word of 
 promise spoken from Heaven, so much it cheered 
 them. 
 
 " McElroy," said Clark in my ear, " I would like 
 a word apart with you, please " ; then as we walked 
 off together: "It is time this rivalry between us 
 were somehow put an end to ; there are too few of 
 us pledged to this dangerous enterprise to risk per- 
 sonal bitterness, especially among the officers, who 
 should be in entire accord. You love your cousin, 
 Ellen O'Neil, and so do I. You wish to marry 
 her, so do I. Which one of us she prefers I defy 
 angel, devil, or man to determine. But she must 
 decide between us, and quickly. If it is you she 
 loves, she must say so, and I will resign all claim, 
 and cease to trouble either of you. If it is I, can 
 you agree to do the same ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered a little reluctantly. " If she 
 loves you, Colonel Clark, I promise to withdraw my 
 suit. Only as her cousin and present guardian, I
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 239 
 
 would have a right, I think, to exact one promise of 
 you, and that is that you will forswear a single 
 habit, and promise to settle down when this war is 
 over. Can a man who loves adventure, as you do, 
 resign it for the love of a woman Colonel Clark 
 to say nothing of that other passion which some- 
 times overmasters you? " 
 
 Clark's face darkened and flushed, but with an 
 effort he controlled himself. " As her kinsman, Mc- 
 Elroy, you doubtless have a right to speak thus to 
 me. You refer to my love for strong drink, and 
 speak of my passion for adventure. The one I 
 could easily resign for Ellen's sake ; the other 'tis 
 embedded in my nature, yet even adventure, me- 
 thinks, might be well exchanged for the love of such 
 a woman; for domestic joys with her to share them; 
 for friends, home and children. Yes, McElroy, I 
 can imagine myself a quiet, respectable, church- 
 going citizen and yet content." 
 
 " Then the decision rests with Ellen alone. 
 Should she choose you, I promise to give my sanc- 
 tion to her choice. But I fear there is small hope 
 for either of us. Have you not heard her say that 
 she intends to take the veil, to be a nun? " 
 
 " Yes, but I have never believed that she meant it 
 in her heart of hearts, though she has deceived her- 
 self into thinking she does, by telling herself that it 
 is her holy duty." 
 
 " She does not seem to me called to the vocation 
 of a nun." I was smiling at the mere thought of the 
 brilliant Ellen in a nunnery. 
 
 " Surely she is not, McElroy; could she be happy, 
 think you, shut out from a world which interests her
 
 2 4 o DONALD MCELROY 
 
 so fully? Your quiet valley, with its dull routine 
 of duty and religion made her rebellious, then how 
 would she endure life in a convent? No, she greatly 
 misunderstands herself. I should rather, by far, see 
 her your wife, McElroy, than to know that all her 
 brilliancy and charms were hidden behind the chill 
 walls of a convent." 
 
 " And I would far rather see her your wife than 
 a nun." 
 
 " Then let us pledge mutual aid, thus far that 
 we will both use all the influence we may have with 
 her to keep her from a convent. Shall we go now 
 to see her, and bid her choose between us? " 
 
 " It does not seem to me to be the wisest course. 
 Suppose she should absolutely refuse both of us? or 
 even in case we can persuade her that she is not 
 called to a convent life, and can induce her to make 
 choice, suppose one of us should be killed in this 
 attack upon Vincennes, and he the one she had 
 chosen? Might she not afterwards feel it disloyal 
 to the memory of that one to listen to the addresses 
 of the other, and so be more than ever disposed to 
 think herself set apart to virgin consecration? Let 
 us leave the matter undecided until one or both of us 
 return from Vincennes. I can trust you to take no 
 less interest in my safety on that account, and you, I 
 think, can likewise trust me. Should I fall, my rights 
 in Ellen, such as they are, become yours. Should 
 you be killed, I inherit your claim to her. Meantime 
 both are pledged to use our utmost endeavors to keep 
 her out of a convent even though to do so, we 
 must help the other to win her." 
 
 " Shrewdly said, McElroy," replied the Colonel,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 241 
 
 with a hearty laugh. " It is a true Scotch-Irishman's 
 bargain you propose many chances, to win, few to 
 lose. Your hand on it. Once more we are good 
 friends, and loyal comrades, pledged together and 
 twice over to two noble causes : one the independ- 
 ence of the United States of America and the saving 
 of the world for democracy, and the other to pre- 
 serve to the world the beauty, the wit, and the spirit 
 of Ellen O'Neil."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 I shall pass over the details of our arduous mid- 
 winter march of one hundred and sixfy miles to Vin- 
 cennes across swamps and flooded plains. Also any 
 account of the three separate mutinies of our French 
 recruits and the almost irreparable loss of our boat, 
 the Willing, and consequent lack of food and rest 
 while we worked feverishly, knee deep in water, 
 building canoes. 
 
 The timely capture, after we had crossed the 
 swollen river and reached firmer ground, of an In- 
 dian canoe loaded with buffalo meat, corn, and 
 (strange circumstance) several large kettles, alone 
 saved our men from starving and our hazardous at- 
 tempt from total disaster On the afternoon of the 
 eighteenth day we reached Vincennes, and with our 
 numerous flags, which through all the suffering of the 
 march we had never relinquished, mounted on long 
 poles, Clark disposed his little band in squads, and 
 ordered them to march some distance apart and to 
 follow the winding road (easily seen from the vil- 
 lage, though hidden from the fort) to the town. 
 
 Not only did we meet with no resistance from the 
 townspeople, but numbers of them offered to assist 
 us in storming the fort. Tabac and his hundred In- 
 dians, who were camping near the town, likewise 
 offered their services as allies.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 243 
 
 When the firing upon Fort Sackville began, Gen- 
 eral Hamilton was in Captain Helm's quarters play- 
 ing piquet with his prisoner, while the latter brewed 
 upon the hearth his favorite beverage a spiced 
 apple toddy. Helm's room had been pointed out to 
 us, and we aimed at his chimney. Soot and plaster 
 came tumbling down, half filled the kettle and ruined 
 the smoking drink. The players sprang to their 
 feet. 
 
 " I'll wager it's Clark, and his riflemen, General," 
 said the jovial Helm. " They'll take the fort, for 
 they are the finest marksmen in the world. Mean- 
 time they've spoiled our toddy, d 'em, and with 
 
 malicious intent you may be sure; some villager has 
 indicated my quarters to McElroy, I dare say, and he 
 pays his respects to me, and announces their presence 
 
 this way. D their sure bullets and their rude 
 
 jokes; wish we had drunk that toddy sooner. Now 
 look at it ! " and he held out a ladle full, gritty with 
 dried mud, and black with soot. 
 
 " You are cool ones, you Americans," said Ham- 
 ilton, with an uneasy laugh. " Pray, how do you 
 suppose Clark would get his men here through these 
 floods?" 
 
 " They swam, maybe oh, Clark and his rifle- 
 men are equal to anything. Might as well run up 
 your white flag, General, and be done the sooner 
 with this unpleasant business ; we can finish our game 
 then, and have Clark in to help drink my second 
 brewing he's good at that as at fighting; we'll 
 make a jolly party." 
 
 " Curse your impudence, Helm ! I'll not sur- 
 render the fort while there's a man to the guns ! "
 
 244 DONALD McELROY 
 
 and Hamilton departed, sputtering with angry excite- 
 ment. 
 
 All night brisk firing was kept up on both sides; 
 at the same time detachments of us worked like 
 beavers to make a trench about a hundred yards in 
 front of the main gate. Early next morning Clark 
 sent in a flag with a bold demand for surrender, and 
 during the respite afforded by its reception the men 
 ate a hearty breakfast, provided by the well disposed 
 townspeople. It was the first meal they had had in 
 five days. This was the message sent by Clark under 
 his flag of truce, and it is so characteristic of the man 
 that I quote it verbatim : 
 
 " Sir In order to save yourself from the impend- 
 ing storm that now threatens you, I order you imme- 
 diately to surrender yourself with all your garrison, 
 stores, etc., etc. For if I am obliged to storm, you 
 may depend on such treatment as is justly due a 
 murderer. Beware of destroying stores of any kind, 
 or any papers or letters that are in your possession, 
 for, by Heaven, if you do, there shall be no mercy 
 shown you. " G. R. CLARK." 
 
 An angry and scornful refusal was returned by 
 General Hamilton to this stern demand, and the fir- 
 ing was renewed. Wherever a port-hole was open, 
 a dozen rifles were aimed upon it, and the bullets 
 poured through like hail; the gunners were killed as 
 fast as they were sent to the guns. Even the cracks 
 in the walls afforded targets to the death-dealing 
 bullets of the riflemen, and more than one of the 
 garrison fell pierced through the eye.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 245 
 
 The afternoon of the second day brought a flag of 
 truce from General Hamilton, asking for a cessation 
 of hostilities for three days, and a conference with 
 Colonel Clark at the fort. Clark refused the terms 
 offered by Hamilton, but agreed to a conference in 
 the village church. At this conference Clark's bold 
 determination again won, and next morning Fort 
 Sackville was surrendered, with all its stores and 
 supplies, and General Hamilton and his garrison be- 
 came prisoners of war. 
 
 This was on the twenty-fifth day of February, 
 1779. It is a date deserving enrollment among 
 eventful days of American history. Henceforth the 
 Northwest was Virginia territory, until ceded by her 
 to the Union. In the negotiations which preceded 
 the final treaty with England, it was this fact that 
 Virginia troops had fought for, and conquered the 
 right bank of the Mississippi which gave potency 
 to the claim of our commissioners, that the Father of 
 Waters and not the Alleghanies, or the Ohio, was 
 our rightful boundary line on the west. 
 
 Among our Revolutionary heroes, George Rogers 
 Clark should stand high, not only because of his 
 daring and his achievements, but because of the im- 
 portant and far-reaching results of his conquest. 
 
 In the last few years, observing the rapidity with 
 which our vast Western territory is being settled and 
 civilized, noting the rapid increase of its population 
 and prosperity, I begin to set a true value upon the 
 importance of this territory to the republic. Not 
 only has it given us room for necessary expansion, 
 but it has quickened all our energies, kindled our 
 imaginations, and furnished a safe outlet for the
 
 246 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 vigorous, throbbing life of our young nation. More- 
 over, there is no way to calculate the important part 
 this common territory has played in uniting, into a 
 firm and reasonable union, the several States of 
 America. It gave us a common interest, at a time 
 when we thought our state interests divergent; fur- 
 nished us a means of satisfying with land grants our 
 discontented and unpaid soldiers; and is teaching us, 
 through experience learned in governing a joint pos- 
 session, broad principles of democratic government. 
 In truth, the more I think upon it, the more highly 
 I rate the achievement of George Rogers Clark 
 in which those of my race bore a worthy part. 
 
 " Since fate has not ended our rivalry for us, Mc- 
 Elroy," said Clark when affairs had been satisfac- 
 torily settled at Vincennes, Helm reinstated with a 
 somewhat larger garrison, and the other troops 
 ready to return to Kaskaskia " the decision rests 
 still with Queen Eleanor. We must force her to a 
 choice, somehow, and certainty is preferable to this 
 suspense." 
 
 " The sooner we know her decision the better I 
 shall be suited," I responded, " for, now that my 
 year's parole has expired, I am eager to get back to 
 the regular service, especially as reinforcements 
 from Virginia can now be counted upon. More- 
 over, you are not likely to need a large force to 
 enable you to hold what we have won." 
 
 " I agree with you," replied Clark. " You have 
 stood by me and the enterprise, like a brave man, 
 and a true comrade, McElroy, and I am glad our 
 business is finished before your duty calls you back to 
 Virginia. You have been my right hand, though all
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 247 
 
 my officers and men have alike acquitted themselves 
 nobly, from first to last." 
 
 " With a leader such as we have had, only worthy 
 conduct is possible," I said, my eyes suddenly dim. 
 
 " Thank you for that word, M'cElroy. That 
 worthy men should deem me a worthy leader, is all 
 the praise I ask. And whatever may come between 
 us in the future, comrade, let us not forget that we 
 have stood together in peril and in suffering, have 
 shared risks and dangers in a cause dear to the hearts 
 of both not even the love of woman should sepa- 
 rate comrades such as we have been." 
 
 " Nor shall it," I answered earnestly. " God bear 
 me witness, Clark, that I shall feel no malice should 
 Ellen's heart answer to yours. I shall wish you both 
 happiness in all sincerity, and seek solace in my 
 duty." 
 
 " No fear, McElroy; you have the sturdiest and 
 best traits of a noble people. I have some of them, 
 doubtless, as my Saxon blood gives me right, but 
 mixed, I fear, with a strain of wildness. I doubt if 
 the anchors of duty are strong enough to hold me to 
 a wise, sane life unless Ellen's love shall help to 
 weight them. As you have said, comrade, an adven- 
 turous, reckless life has strong temptation for me; 
 therefore, if Ellen's love is not for me and I fore- 
 bode it is not, though I'm not yet ready to resign all 
 Hope I shall take it for a sign that a kind fate is 
 sparing her the woeful doom of a drunkard's wife." 
 He added, after a brief pause, during which a deep 
 melancholy settled upon his face, " Sometimes a man 
 is doomed from his birth; from the beginning he 
 moves on to a prefixed destiny, and all his struggles
 
 248 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 to save himself from the end he fears, avail noth- 
 ing." 
 
 My reply combatted Clark's fatalism with all the 
 arguments I could command, but I soon saw that his 
 views on the subject of his destiny were fixed; that 
 with all his cheerful courage, and calculating bold- 
 ness, there was in his nature that strange vein of 
 superstition or fatalism which has marked so many 
 military heroes : Hannibal, Alexander, Caesar, 
 Robert Bruce, Frederick the Great, and others less 
 renowned. Nor can one lay the fatalistic views 
 Clark held to the charge of his religion. Though 
 Scotch-Irish by birth, he knew no more of Presby- 
 terian doctrines than did Father Gibault, and he had 
 no religious principles. 
 
 Clark, as I have said, was a fatalist, though he 
 had no religion. I was and am a Presbyterian, yet 
 I have always believed in cause and effect, the work- 
 ing of natural laws to natural ends. Nevertheless, 
 though it be apparently a contradiction, I believe in 
 an overruling Providence, and the care of God over 
 the most insignificant of His creatures. Therefore, 
 when I knew myself to be ill, on that last day of our 
 return march, and said to Clark, " It seems, after 
 all, comrade, as if fate meant to settle this matter- 
 of rivalry between us," I meant it not as it was said, 
 but as Clark might look upon it. My future lay, I 
 knew, in God's hands, and even in that hour of evil 
 apprehension for I realized that my illness would 
 be a long and serious one I felt satisfied to leave 
 it there, and to trust my life and Ellen's to His 
 guidance. 
 
 A faith that can sustain a man, and leave him calm
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 249 
 
 and undismayed in each crisis of his life, is worth 
 much to him call it by what name or sect, distin- 
 guish it by whatsoever creed, you will. And these 
 small variations of our small minds, are, I conceive, 
 little taken into account by the Infinite, who knows 
 we are but children, in mental and spiritual develop- 
 ment, and values our faith and our honest striving 
 without regard to the creeds with which we confuse 
 ourselves.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Beyond this comforting assurance of my religion, 
 there was but one idea floating through my confused 
 and fever-consumed brain, and that was a longing 
 vision rather than an idea a vision of my moth- 
 er's downy, rose-scented beds; and then, as next best, 
 of the heaps of feathers, covered with gay Indian 
 blankets, which constituted the pride of the Kaskas- 
 kian homes. Oh, to feel a thick pillow under my 
 head, to stretch my aching limbs on the yielding 
 feathers ! It was the one thing in life I wanted. I 
 longed for rest as a tired infant longs for his moth- 
 er's soft breast, and tender arms. The hope of it 
 alone gave me courage to drag my weighted feet 
 over the last two miles of our way. 
 
 It was a little strange that the realization of the 
 bliss of repose was my first conscious thought after 
 an illness of many days, so that I could never realize 
 that more than a night had intervened between the 
 longing and the realization, the agony and the relief. 
 My first conscious moment lasted just long enough 
 for me to appreciate the comfort of my couch; al- 
 most immediately I sank again into sleep or uncon- 
 sciousness. The next time I came to myself I was 
 not only wide awake, but alert and curious as I 
 opened my eyes to note my surroundings. They 
 were rough limed walls with a low sloping ceiling;
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 251 
 
 bright-hued Indian rugs were upon the floor, and 
 half-burned logs on heavy dog-irons, with sputtering 
 candle encjs, burning upon a round stand, in the far- 
 thest corner. In the shadow of the corner sat a 
 figure, its head against the wall. Some one had 
 been good enough to sit up all the night with me, 
 and now that day was breaking, his eyes could be 
 kept open no longer, and he had fallen into a doze. 
 I would be very quiet and not wake him. 
 
 Presently the figure stirred, rose and came to the 
 bedside. I recognized Clark, even in the dimness of 
 the gray dawn. 
 
 "You have been watching me, my Colonel?" I 
 questioned, trying to smile, and to put out the hand 
 that was too feeble to answer to my will. Clark 
 came closer, saw my purpose, gave my hand a warm 
 pressure, and lifted me a little higher on my pillows. 
 
 " Have I been very ill? " I asked. 
 
 " You have been near enough the happy hunting 
 ground to know the way, my lad. But, thank God, 
 you are better, and will live long enough, I trust, to 
 forget the route before you take another journey in 
 that direction." 
 
 "Where are we?" 
 
 " In Kaskaskia, in one of the loft rooms of the 
 Commandant's house." 
 
 "Is Ellen below?" 
 
 " Yes, and asleep, I hope; she and Angelique tend 
 you by day, Legere, Givens and I by night; but you 
 must not talk yet a while; that's Dr. Lafonte's or- 
 ders. Drink this and go to sleep." 
 
 I obeyed like a child, settling myself deeper in the 
 feathers, with a sigh of content.
 
 252 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 Upon my third awaking, I recognized Ellen's 
 voice, and felt her soft hand upon my brow. 
 
 " Ellen ! " I whispered, and opened my eyes to 
 look at the face bending above mine with the rapture 
 a saint might feel upon seeing some beatific vision, 
 long prayed for. 
 
 " Do not talk, Cousin Donald," she said, beam- 
 ing a smile of cheerful affection upon me ; " Dr. La- 
 fonte says you must be very quiet for a few days 
 more." 
 
 I managed, despite my weakness, to get hold of 
 her hand, and clung to it feebly. " I will be per- 
 fectly quiet," I answered in tones so weak that I 
 wondered if it could be really I who was speaking, 
 " if you will sit beside me and hold my hand." 
 
 She smiled, flushed a little, and as she held a glass 
 of cordial to my lips said coaxingly, " If you'll drink 
 this and go to sleep, I will." Then she sat down 
 beside me, and held my nerveless fingers in her warm, 
 soft clasp, till I was dreaming an odd jumble of 
 pleasant visions through all of which flitted Ellen's 
 face and form. 
 
 This sort of half dream life went on I know not 
 how long. I only remember an incident here and 
 there floating faces, cups held to my lips, and then 
 the pleasant drifting off into long periods of dream- 
 less rest. At last I was strong enough to sit part of 
 each day in a high-backed chair, and after that I saw 
 little of Ellen. She came twice each day for a brief 
 visit, but Angelique brought my broth and wine, 
 helped me from bed to chair, smoothed my pillows, 
 and sometimes sang me to sleep with wild, sweet 
 Acadian ballads. Clark came in and out with
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 253 
 
 cheery presence, and encouraging words but now 
 that summer had come again he had more affairs to 
 administer, and so less time to give me. Givens 
 would linger, though, when he came on his daily 
 visit, to tell me the gossip of the village, of which 
 the half wild, half drowsy life suited him well. 
 Legere and others visited me almost daily, and my 
 monotonous life was not a lonely one, though forced 
 inaction grew more and more irksome as my strength 
 returned. 
 
 " Clark," I said to him one day, " I can't stand 
 this suspense any longer. I want to know all, even 
 if it be the worst. Since I am better, Ellen comes 
 in only when others are here, and makes prompt 
 excuses to get away. Her kindness is barely cous- 
 inly. And you too seem to avoid being left alone 
 with me. Have you spoken to Ellen? " 
 
 " Yes, I have spoken though to do so, com- 
 ported not fairly with our compact. But my feel- 
 ings overmastered me. I have avoided telling you 
 till you should be stronger." 
 
 " I am strong enough now," I answered, though I 
 trembled from head to foot; "tell me all and 
 quickly." 
 
 " It was one evening when we thought you dying. 
 I followed her from the room, and was moved to 
 tell her your last words to me when you left her 
 to my care, and bade me give her perfect freedom 
 in the disposition of her life, but left us your bless- 
 ing could she love me enough to link her fate with 
 mine. She wept afresh at the recital of your words; 
 and then with friendly candor there was no mis- 
 taking, thanked me for my love, and accepted my
 
 254 DONALD McELROY 
 
 offer of protection, even while she told me that 
 whether you lived or died there was no hope for me. 
 Her quiet decision awed me, and forced back all the 
 protestations I had formulated against her vow of 
 nunnery. She declared it was no rash or hasty one, 
 made to be repented of, but that she held it to be 
 more sacred and binding than any other claim upon 
 her heart and life, and that she waited only for your 
 restoration to health to go, under Father Gibault's 
 escort, and yours, if you would, to the convent at 
 Quebec." 
 
 " Comrade," I said, putting out my shaking hand 
 to clasp his, " that is not the news I expected but 
 it is much more distressing to me." 
 
 " Perhaps I am wrong to tell you, and am but 
 making the harder for you the final disappointment," 
 continued Clark after a silence of some moments, 
 during which he seemed to be thinking deeply, " but 
 I am not convinced that Ellen looks forward to the 
 life of a nun. I believe she once made a foolish vow 
 and thinks it sacrilege to break it. And if I can 
 read a woman's heart through her face, McElroy, 
 Ellen O'Neil feels for you a tenderness that is 
 neither usual nor natural for a woman to feel to- 
 wards one she regards only as a distant kinsman. I 
 believe she loves you yet I cannot honestly say I 
 think you will win her. Her will is strong, and her 
 religion has so far been the dominant principle of 
 her life. One side of her nature is fitted to the 
 martyr's role, the other side is strongly human 
 throbs with the full current of youth, loves daring 
 and doing, experiencing and enjoying, even as you 
 and I. Which part of her complex nature will tri-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 255 
 
 umph I cannot foresee. This I can say honestly, 
 comrade," and Clark laid a hand upon my knee, and 
 his truth-speaking eyes looked straight into mine, 
 " even with my own grievous disappointment fresh 
 upon me, I would see Ellen the happy and joy-giving 
 wife of my true-hearted friend with delight, com- 
 pared to the feeling with which I shall see her the 
 self-immolated * bride of the church ' which is, in 
 my opinion, but another name for victim to super- 
 stition and priestly tyranny. The fates grant that 
 you may win her, McElroy." 
 
 An hour I sat in deep thought then I made my 
 vow. If in Ellen's heart there dwelt but the weak- 
 est germ of love for me, it should grow on until it 
 uprooted all other influences. I bade the whole 
 Roman Church defiance. A girl's superstition to 
 come between Ellen and her life's fulfillment? be- 
 tween me and lifelong happiness ? I swore it should 
 not be! She should love me more and more till 
 love mastered her, choking superstition and conquer- 
 ing her will. Once convinced, she would see it all 
 as I did, and be glad all her life that I had saved 
 her from a fatal mistake. I girded myself afresh 
 for the conflict, as it were, each hour of the days that 
 followed, and planned my campaign against a maid- 
 en's heart as carefully as a general plans an advance 
 into the enemy's country. My first move must be to 
 keep her from reaching a final decision as long as pos- 
 sible ; my second to take her, upon some pretext, back 
 to the valley with me. 
 
 Meanwhile I hastened my recovery by every means 
 possible, watching impatiently the summer moving 
 on to autumn. From my window I could see the
 
 256 DONALD McELROY 
 
 slow, gliding river, glancing in the sun's rays, and 
 the stagnant, spreading bayous, gay with spotted 
 lilies, and fringed with swaying grasses, while birds, 
 as gayly colored as the blossoms, rode blithely upon 
 the springy reeds. The meadows were green with 
 waving corn, or yellow with the ripened grass, and 
 the rich odor of the wild grapes came upon the 
 breeze with other and more elusive fragrances. But 
 gliding river, reed-fringed bayou, and luxuriant 
 meadow, were not half so fair to my real vision as 
 the dear valley to my imaginary one. I longed to 
 see the undulating blue ranges, and the varied land- 
 scape, with the comfortable farmhouses dotted over 
 it. I was eager to be off for home, to hear the late 
 news from the war, and to bear Ellen away from 
 Romish influences. 
 
 At last spirit could wait the body's leisure no 
 longer, and though still weak and emaciated, I made 
 a firm resolve to start for home within a week or 
 two. Then I sent Angelique with a message to 
 Ellen, demanding a private interview. 
 
 " Your message is earnest, almost peremptory, 
 Cousin Donald," said Ellen, coming in with a play- 
 ful smile on her lips; " am I to have another scold- 
 ing, and for what? My conscience acquits me this 
 time ; I have stopped coquetting with the officers, or 
 walking alone without the village ; therefore I know 
 not what wrong I have done to deserve a kinsman's 
 reprimand." 
 
 ' 'Tis not to scold, but to entreat that I have sent 
 for you, Ellen," I replied. " Will you sit down 
 here before me, and give me your serious attention 
 for a brief while?" Perhaps it was the tone of
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 257 
 
 my voice, or it may have been that my face betrayed 
 me, for Ellen flushed and dropped her lids an instant 
 over her eyes, as she took the chair I had indicated, 
 yet saying with an air of banter : 
 
 " My ' serious attention,' Cousin Donald? You 
 plead for it as if 'twere a rare favor, and one most 
 difficult to obtain; am I so seldom serious? " 
 
 " Two weeks from to-day, Ellen, I start back to 
 Virginia," ignoring her playful manner; "my duty 
 calls me thither; but I cannot leave you here in Kas- 
 kaskia without lawful guardian or protector. You 
 have long known, Ellen, that I love you with my 
 whole being, that the dearest and most sacred wish 
 of my heart is to make you my wife. Will you 
 marry me, Ellen, and go back to Virginia to a home 
 of your own, with the protection and constant devo- 
 tion of one whose whole life shall be dedicated to 
 your happiness? " 
 
 The flush on Ellen's cheeks leaped upward to her 
 brow in a flame of crimson; her eyes grew darker; 
 and upon her face came a look of mingled sorrow, 
 yearning and resolve. 
 
 " Oh, my cousin, have I not said it often enough," 
 with the sob-suggesting catch, vibrating like harp 
 tones through her words " that never can I be wife 
 to any man? Do even you believe that all this time 
 I have been jesting on a subject so sacred that I 
 have but used pretense of holy calling as a coquettish 
 wile to lure men on ? Yet how can I find fault with 
 you for having thought so, since my life has so belied 
 my words? I have been naught but a frivolous co- 
 quette these months past as if I would get all of 
 worldly triumph, and food for vanity possible out
 
 258 DONALD McELROY 
 
 of my life, during the respite which circumstances 
 have afforded me from the fulfillment of my vow. 
 Mine has been lip service, only, not yet have I known 
 true heart consecration. But I will know it, Don- 
 ald, will possess the true nun's heart, if all of self 
 must be immolated by hourly chastisement and self- 
 denial to achieve it. I have solemnly pledged my 
 life to prayer, and penance, and holy service. Will 
 not you, Cousin Donald, my only friend and pro- 
 tector, my one source of human strength, help me 
 to keep my vow to God? " and she clasped her hands 
 in passionate entreaty, and lifted moist eyes and 
 trembling lips to my serious gaze. 
 
 " Dear Ellen ! " and I spoke with a new emotion 
 of respect for the depth of her feeling, " I want 
 more than aught else to help you, but I do not fully 
 understand, nor see the reason for your being so 
 determined, and feeling so strongly will you not 
 tell me all, so that I can' better understand you ? 
 When was this vow you speak of made? " 
 
 " That bitter night I was lost upon the mountain, 
 when, numb with cold, and shaken with terror of the 
 wolves pursuing us, I fell from the rearing horse, 
 frightened too by the wild beasts, and lay there in 
 agony of fear and pain, through long hours, listening 
 to the wolves, as they chased the poor horse, and 
 each moment expecting to feel their fangs in my flesh. 
 I prayed as never I had prayed before, to the Holy 
 Virgin and her sacred Son, promising to consecrate 
 all the rest of my life to prayer and humble service, 
 in some rigorous convent, if they would send me 
 deliverance from a violent death. Even as I prayed 
 I fell into sleep, or unconsciousness, and awoke in
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 259 
 
 Father Givens' house. He nursed me back to health, 
 and I had it in my mind to induce him to take me to 
 Baltimore to the Convent of the Sacred Heart, had 
 you not come by with the message from Mr. Jeffer- 
 son. I saw the scout's desire was to go with you, 
 and I would not stand between him and his wish. 
 Already he had done too much for a willful girl who 
 had no claim upon his charities, save the claim of 
 common humanity. I gave all my energies to per- 
 suading him that a life of adventure appealed to me 
 even more strongly than the life of a convent re- 
 treat, and so fed his inclination to join in the adven- 
 ture that he could not resist it. At last he consented 
 to purchase for me the coveted disguise as his foster 
 son, and when once he had seen me wear it, and 
 watched my rifle practice, he grew interested in my 
 plans, and made no further difficulty. 
 
 " For the first weeks I was buoyed by the spirit of 
 excitement, and enjoyed the free, outdoor life I had 
 been accustomed to as a child. Not until you and 
 Thomas joined us did I realize the boldness of my 
 deed. I dreaded to have you find me out, yet I 
 could not bear to be left behind in Kentucky. What 
 the result might be haunted my thoughts and my 
 dreams. Again I added daily vows to daily prayers. 
 Were I safely delivered once more, delivered from 
 the coil of questionable circumstances with which I 
 had rashly surrounded myself, I would without delay, 
 find my way to some peaceful convent and atone for 
 all my willful past by years of devout consecration. 
 You know how wonderfully I was delivered was 
 spared even blame or question; how fortunately I 
 have since been placed.
 
 260 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " Were not all my prayers heard and answered? 
 Dare I then break my vows lie to the holy Virgin 
 and her sacred Son? Accept divine deliverance, and 
 repay with broken promises, violated oaths ? Could 
 you love and trust a wife who would come to you 
 with a sacrilege upon her conscience? " 
 
 "My dear one! " answering her solemnly, as she 
 had spoken, and taking the fluttering fingers firmly in 
 my own to still them; " I will not ask you to violate 
 a vow you regard so sacredly. I will live all my 
 life with an unsatisfied longing, an aching, hungry 
 heart, rather than to say one word to urge you 
 against your conscience. But I think you reason and 
 feel morbidly. Is there no other life of consecra- 
 tion to God's service for a woman than that to be 
 found behind convent walls? Think you the life of 
 wife and mother less holy, less self-sacrificing, of less 
 savory incense to God than that of a nun? 
 
 " What service can a nun render to God that a 
 consecrated wife and mother may not offer Him? 
 Prayer? Does not the wife pray with added fervor 
 for herself, that she may live a worthy exemplar 
 to those she loves for them, with more earnest 
 zeal because love prompts each petition and for 
 all the world more fervently because those she lives 
 for are a part of it. Deeds of unselfish charity? 
 Are they less in God's sight, believe you, than the 
 daily immolation of her own wishes which each true 
 wife practices upon the altar of domestic duty. And 
 what need we most in this new world? Is it not 
 consecrated men and women to spend all the powers 
 of their being for peace, purity and enlightenment? 
 We hope to found in this virgin land a wondrous
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 261 
 
 republic where freedom of conscience and equal op- 
 portunities will be offered to the downtrodden of all 
 nations. But we may not hope to perpetuate such 
 republic, unless there be noble women women of 
 the unusual intelligence and gifts with which God has 
 honored you to strive with us toward that ideal." 
 
 " There is truth in most you say, Donald," a glow 
 answering mine on her face, her hands still and warm 
 now in mine; "you move me always by your calm 
 reasoning. Yet I am bound by my vow. Did I let 
 my selfish inclinations plead, I might easily persuade 
 myself that your logic is as true for me as it would 
 be for another, not so solemnly pledged as I am. 
 But the very leaning of desire warns me to guard 
 my sacred promises the more sturdily against temp- 
 tation." In her earnestness she did not realize the 
 half confession she had made, but my heart leaped 
 within me, and a quiver of joy thrilled to my finger 
 tips. 
 
 " Tell me, Ellen," and I held her hands in a 
 tighter clasp, and claimed the full gaze of her eyes, 
 " had you never made this vow, could you consent 
 to be my wife would there have been hope of hap- 
 piness for me? " 
 
 " Oh, Donald ! " a cry of entreaty, following the 
 blush that swam upward to the roots of her hair, " it 
 is not fair to ask me you have promised to help 
 me you should not make my duty so hard so 
 very hard for me." 
 
 I kissed the hands now cold and trembling again, 
 not with passion, but with reverence on my lips, and 
 laid them gently on her knee; then said, with a 
 mighty effort at self-control ? for I would have
 
 262 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 given the world to take her in my arms, and dared 
 hope she would find it hard to resist me : 
 
 " Forgive me, Ellen; I will ask you nothing; you 
 shall follow your duty as you see it. If you feel 
 your promise binds you to the utmost self-sacrifice, I 
 shall use no power your confidence has given me to 
 persuade you from your duty. But why should you 
 remain in this wilderness unprotected for I must 
 needs follow my soldier's duty back to Virginia 
 waiting the uncertain chance of safe convoy to Que- 
 bec, when you could go under my escort to the valley, 
 stay there with your lawful protectors till the war is 
 over, and then be escorted by them, with due consent 
 and proper honor to your chosen retreat in Balti- 
 more ? There you will not only have wider sphere 
 of usefulness among people of your own race and 
 language, but you will be near your parents' graves 
 and in reach of your relatives, should they need you, 
 or you them. There I might even visit you some- 
 times it would be a consolation and a joy had I 
 only the happiness to hold your hand an instant, and 
 to catch the old dear smile through the grating of 
 convent bars. 
 
 " Moreover, Ellen, though I say this not in harsh- 
 ness, you would feel, I think, surer of God's blessing 
 on your sacrifice if you were to enter your holy life 
 at peace with all men without bitterness in your 
 heart toward the unfaithful guardians to whom your 
 parents left you." 
 
 " That thought has troubled me," said Ellen, tears 
 springing to her eyes, and making a soft film over 
 their velvet blueness; " it does not seem meet for me 
 to take the sacred veil with a spirit unforgiving and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 263 
 
 unforgiven. I would welcome the opportunity to 
 beg Uncle Thomas' forgiveness, and to apologize to 
 Aunt Martha for my willfulness. I had no wish, 
 believe me, Donald, to cause them suffering. I 
 thought to relieve Uncle Thomas of an obstacle to 
 his domestic happiness, and Aunt Martha of a source 
 of much annoyance. Remorse has pursued me since 
 I knew of Thomas' following me, that he was will- 
 ing to desert his parents and his religion for me. I 
 made what reparation I could by sending him back 
 to them, and his nature is not one to grieve long. 
 If you, Cousin Donald, would but carry to them my 
 repentance, and obtain their forgiveness, and their 
 consent to my taking the veil, I might be able to do 
 sufficient penance for my other sins." 
 
 " The truest reparation you can make them, Ellen, 
 the one they would most value, and which will alone 
 relieve them from the reproach of their consciences, 
 and the odium of their neighbors, will be to go back 
 with me, live in peace and amity with them for a 
 time, and go from them in kindness to your convent 
 seclusion." 
 
 " It is indeed a cup of humbling you would hold to 
 my lips," said Ellen, paling suddenly " yet doubt- 
 less I need to drink of that very cup. Pride, I think, 
 is my besetting sin." 
 
 " Pride and love of your own will, Ellen, un- 
 seemly faults for a fair and gentle woman yet 
 offset by rare virtues." 
 
 " Do not flatter me, Donald; let me face the truth; 
 in showing me my real self, you are my truest friend. 
 Pride and self-will ! when I should possess ' a meek 
 and quiet spirit,' and ' an humble and a contrite
 
 264 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 heart ' before I shall be ready for my holy calling." 
 " May it not be, Ellen, that you are mistaking 
 your determination to fulfill a rash vow, made under 
 exciting circumstances, for a true call founded on 
 real consecration of heart and spirit? Talk with 
 Father Gibault; he is a holy man, yet a just and 
 reasonable one ; tell him all, and ask him to help you 
 to determine your path of duty. Then come and 
 tell me your decision and with God's help, dear 
 one, I will add to yours all my strength and courage, 
 to enable you to follow where your conscience leads 
 you. But oh, Ellen, will you not tell me once, just 
 once, that you do love me, and would give yourself to 
 me if you were free? " 
 
 "Donald! Donald! you must not disturb my 
 soul by such entreaties ! " she cried in pleading tones. 
 " Do you not see that if once it were said, it could 
 never again be unsaid? " and she left me hastily, her 
 head drooping like a flower upon its stalk.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 What if Father Gibault's priestly zeal should 
 prove stronger than the common sense, and sound 
 humanity, I credited him with ? What if he should 
 conclude that the immolation of two lives was neces- 
 sary to the saving of one soul? Should strengthen 
 Ellen's superstition as to the sacred obligation of her 
 impulsive vow? Well! in that case I should have 
 two strong forces to war against, Ellen's supersti- 
 tion, and a priest's influence. But I had no thought 
 of resigning Ellen until the authority of the Roman 
 Church had put her forever beyond reach of my 
 hopes. She had been created for love, and happi- 
 ness, for the duties and ties of earth; once the fervor 
 of self-sacrifice had exhausted itself, she would be 
 miserable in a convent. I thought I knew her nature 
 better than she understood it, and meant to save her 
 from self-immolation for a happier life, and one, I 
 truly believed, not less holy in God's sight. As im- 
 patient as I was to take once more my part in the 
 struggle waging beyond the Alleghanies, I meant not 
 to leave the Illinois Country until Ellen had con- 
 sented to go with me, or was immured for life behind 
 convent walls. 
 
 Father Gibault was with her when she came to me 
 the next morning, and my heart beat fast with appre- 
 hension; his presence seemed to convey a hint of 
 doom to my hopes. Ellen's face was very serious,
 
 266 DONALD McELROY 
 
 but rigidly self-controlled, and about her was an air 
 of unaccustomed meekness and humility. 
 
 " The Father has made my duty plain, Cousin 
 Donald," she began; " I must go back to the guard- 
 ians to whom my parents left me, and go from them 
 to my seclusion, when, by meekness and obedience, I 
 have won their forgiveness; I must shrive myself 
 for the holy life by conquering will and pride," and 
 she turned and left us, without having once lifted her 
 eyes to mine. But my first point was gained, and 
 my heart beat more calmly as I turned to Father 
 Gibault, still standing by the window, looking pen- 
 sively upon the landscape, to exclaim vehemently : 
 
 " And you think a rash vow, made by a child, 
 under stress of fright and suffering, obligatory, 
 Father Gibault? You will allow this girl to feel 
 herself doomed to self-immolation because of an irre- 
 sponsible promise to her own excited conscience? 
 Cannot you foresee that she will live a long life of 
 regret, and unavailing struggle against natural in- 
 clinations ? And can you believe a half-hearted sac- 
 rifice, an immolation of the body only, is more likely 
 to fit Ellen for Heaven, or more sure to do God's 
 service, than the thrice holy calling of Christian wife 
 and mother? " 
 
 " You are vehement in your argument beyond 
 necessity, monsieur," answered the Father, in his 
 soft precise English, and smiling calmly at me from 
 the chair in which he had seated himself, while I 
 strode up and down the room excitedly. 
 
 " The matter excuses vehemence," I answered. 
 " Have you not guessed that I love my Cousin Ellen, 
 that I wish her for my wife? And I would have
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 267 
 
 good hope of winning her but for this absurd super- 
 stition of your cold and bigoted faith, that a fair and 
 innocent young woman does honor to God by shut- 
 ting herself up and doing penance thus perpetuat- 
 ing a heathen custom, originating in the need of un- 
 protected women for a place of refuge in a lawless 
 age, to a more civilized time, which has greater need 
 of the example and the inspiration of holy matrons, 
 than for useless bead-counting nuns." 
 
 " You have unsuspected fluency of the tongue, 
 Captain McElroy," and Father Gibault's habitual 
 expression of gentle benevolence had given place to 
 one of droll humorousness. " Priest though I be, 
 and with mind, I trust, fixed usually on holier things, 
 I could not easily have blinded myself to signs of 
 earthly love so evident as those you have shown for 
 your cousin. I guessed many things when the 
 maiden lay ill of fever last autumn, and you haunted 
 my steps for news of her. I wonder not that you 
 love Ellen O'Neil. A maiden more sweet I have 
 not known, nor one better worth a man's heart. 
 When I learned of her vow, I thought first of you, 
 with much sympathy, and fearing that her convic- 
 tions were but the expression of extreme sensibility 
 natural to girlhood, I was most careful not to say 
 aught to fix them into resolve. Later, seeing that 
 she took a maiden's natural pleasure in her small 
 court, and that her influence over Colonel Clark and 
 the rest of you was good, softening and restraining 
 you, I soothed Ellen's unquiet conscience, and showed 
 her that the holy God had given her a present work 
 she could not wisely abandon until the way was 
 opened to her. Moreover, I advised her to test far-
 
 268 DONALD McELROY 
 
 ther her heart, and to be sure of full, free consecra- 
 tion before she should take the holy vows of a nun. 
 Neither the Supreme God nor the holy church value 
 half-hearted service, and such vow as Ellen made is 
 binding only so long as conscience, will, and heart 
 are in full accord. Ellen goes with you, Captain 
 McElroy, free in conscience, unfettered by priestly 
 admonition." 
 
 These words of Father Gibault's lifted a weight 
 from my heart. I seized both his hands, and shook 
 them gratefully, saying : " You are as honest and 
 as true hearted as I thought you, Holy Father," call- 
 ing him for the first time by the reverend title the 
 Kaskaskians gave him. " I have not words suffi- 
 cient to express my appreciation of your interest in 
 my happiness and your regard for Ellen's welfare." 
 
 " I have advised you both as my conscience dic- 
 tates," he answered, resuming the expression of be- 
 nevolence, blended with worldly abstraction, and the 
 tone of fatherly authority usual to him. " In doing 
 so I have shifted my responsibility for Ellen O'Niel's 
 future to you, until she is safe in her uncle's home; 
 even then you must share jointly with her other kins- 
 men the trust which I, as her priestly guardian, have 
 transmitted to you. Had I not full confidence in 
 your honor, and your manly faith, Captain McElroy, 
 I could not give you so delicate a charge with free 
 conscience. You are to conduct this maiden in all 
 safety and honor to her uncle's home; you are to 
 leave her there in unmolested peace for at least one 
 year longer if she desires and then allow her 
 to choose, with absolute freedom, between your love 
 and a nun's life. She is to choose, I repeat, freely,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 269 
 
 as her heart dictates and her conscience approves. 
 Meantime, while she is under your s'ole guardianship 
 you are to take no slightest advantage of her unpro- 
 tected state, nor even of her new-found humility, to 
 wring from her any promise or to exact any condi- 
 tion; you will not so much as trouble her with pro- 
 testations, nor frighten her with appeals and en- 
 treaties." 
 
 " Most solemnly, I promise all, Holy Father," 
 and I raised my eyes and hand to Heaven; " in no 
 way will I trouble Ellen's peace for a full year; I 
 will conduct her in honor and safety to the care of 
 her lawful guardians, who shall in future be account- 
 able to me for her happiness ; and if she shall adhere 
 to her resolutions to take nun's vows, my mother 
 shall escort her to the convent she may choose." 
 
 " You leave for Virginia at once, Captain Mc- 
 Elroy?" 
 
 " In ten days, if my cousin can be ready so soon." 
 
 " You will take all the brightness from Kaskaskia 
 with Ellen, and leave many sad hearts behind. 
 Others go with you? " 
 
 " Captain Bowman and twenty of his company." 
 
 " You make the journey by water? " 
 
 "To the headwaters of the Alleghany; there I 
 shall procure horses, and we will make our way to 
 the valley by the nearest pass." 
 
 Givens, after much deliberation with himself and 
 others, concluded to remain with Colonel Clark; 
 there was strong possibility, indeed, that he would 
 settle in Kaskaskia for the rest of his life. Only one 
 thing seemed to mar his content that he would
 
 270 DONALD McELROY 
 
 have fewer opportunities in the Illinois country for 
 killing Indians than in Kentucky, or almost anywhere 
 else in our borders. Colonel Clark had concluded 
 an alliance with all the tribes in that part of our 
 territory, and was very positive in his instructions 
 that no quarrel was to be stirred up among them, 
 and no excuse whatever given them to molest the 
 whites, and they seemed equally to desire to live in 
 friendly relations with the Americans. 
 
 " Wut in ther name uv all ther saints en all ther 
 holies," said Givens, who had been almost converted 
 to the Catholic faith, " Cunnel Clark mout be hevin' 
 en his mind I doan' know but, ef he'd er listened 
 ter me he'd never made no sich er terms with ther 
 murderin' savages es ud lef no chance fur er man ter 
 git his revenge on 'em fur injuries es is more an 
 human flesh en blood ought ter be axed ter forgive." 
 
 Ellen parted with Givens, Father Gibault, and the 
 faithful Angelique and her many friends in Kaskas- 
 kia, with heartfelt sorrow, and they from her with 
 evident grief. It seemed, at the last, almost cruel 
 to take her away from so much tenderness, and sym- 
 pathy, to a cold, loveless atmosphere. I, too, bade 
 them, and gay Majore Legere, and genial Dr. La- 
 fonte, farewell, and took my leave of the pleasant 
 village of Kaskaskia with genuine regret. 
 
 The parting with Clark was a real heart wrench. 
 He had said good-by to Ellen cheerfully, even gayly, 
 for it was not his way to wear heart on sleeve 
 presenting her with a large Indian basket full of amu- 
 lets, chains of shells, small totems, rugs, blankets, 
 beaded moccasins, and other curious things of In-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 271 
 
 dian workmanship, to remind her, he said, of a 
 year's life among savages, red sava-ges and white : 
 
 " The happiest year of my life," said Ellen, beam- 
 ing gratitude upon him for his cheerful and unselfish 
 God-speed to us; "and also the most glorious of 
 Colonel Clark's. I go back to chant the victories, 
 both in war and diplomacy, of our American Han- 
 nibal!" 
 
 " The comparison is too flattering, Queen Elea- 
 nor," said Clark, but I knew he was pleased. I 
 thought of Hannibal's end, even as I saw the force 
 of Ellen's comparison, and a sad premonition was 
 borne in upon my mind, adding to my grief at part- 
 ing with him. 
 
 " If our expedition has been successful, even be- 
 yond our hopes," added Clark, " most of the credit 
 is due to my loyal officers and my brave men. Espe- 
 cially must I share any glory that is mine with this 
 brave, true comrade," and he laid a hand upon my 
 shoulder, and looked into my eyes with his own bold 
 and piercing ones, softened to the tenderness of a 
 woman's. I knew this generous speech was made to 
 forward my cause with Ellen, and I choked in my 
 throat as I grasped his hand again, and, when I had 
 given him one look of thanks, must needs turn aside 
 to regain control of my feelings. 
 
 " If you needed me, Clark, I could not leave you," 
 I found voice, presently, to say; " I but go to fight 
 for our cause beyond the Alleghanies. But never 
 can I have a commander more honored, or more 
 beloved." 
 
 " Success to you, McElroy, in war and peace ! 
 in all things you may have at heart ! " he answered
 
 272 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 me, also much moved; " and when you have won 
 all you strive for I shall come to rejoice with you. 
 Farewell, comrade ! " 
 
 " Farewell, Queen Eleanor ! A pleasant journey 
 and a pleasant home-coming! Forget me not in 
 your prayers, sweet saint! " and he bent and kissed 
 her hand, then handed her into the boat with a 
 courtly grace which well became him. 
 
 He was still standing upon the wharf, when we 
 made the first bend in the river his arms folded, 
 his gaze fixed upon the receding boat, as if he saw it 
 but as part of a vision. We waved to him, but he 
 did not move. The virgin freshness of the early 
 morning, and the roseate radiance of the newly risen 
 sun brought out, with added force, the heroic propor- 
 tions and carriage of the man, silhouetted like a 
 carven statue, representing human will, against the 
 far sweeping, luxuriant bluffs, crowned with the 
 growth of centuries, marking that vast and opulent 
 territory which his single purpose had won and held 
 for his country. 
 
 Floating down the river through the soft October 
 haze on our comfortably fitted flat boat was ideal 
 journeying. Often now when I fall into reveries, I 
 live over again those golden autumn days, and see 
 the rich and varied landscape through which we 
 drifted with the swift current of the majestic Mis- 
 sissippi. 
 
 Ellen spent the days and half the nights on deck, 
 protected from sun and dew, by the overhanging roof 
 of the little cabin in which she slept. She had her 
 own chair which Clark had ordered conveyed on
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 273 
 
 board from the commandant's house, and there were 
 thick Indian mats for her feet. I sprawled on these, 
 hour after hour, making talk to amuse her, or lis- 
 tening to her when she pleased to entertain me, and 
 entirely content were she silent, or talkative, gay or 
 pensive, so only there was no shadow of regret upon 
 her face. But one thing was lacking, a book or 
 two to read from. In lieu of them we told each 
 other stories we had read, or repeated passages, 
 prose or poetry, as we could remember. Ellen gave 
 me long extracts from Shakespeare. I recited parts 
 from " The School for Scandal " that being, in 
 truth, all the poetry I had learned by heart since 
 my schoolboy days, and, seeing Ellen was interested, 
 described the costumes we wore at its playing in 
 Philadelphia, and the appearance and air of the 
 players. From that I was led on to talk of the 
 society I had mingled with in Philadelphia, and then 
 of the Bufords and their kindness to me. Ellen's 
 questions and shrewd guessing brought me at last to 
 narrate the whole story of my whilom infatuation for 
 Miss Nelly, and the narrow escape I made from 
 being led to play a traitor's part by her wiles. 
 
 " She must be loyal Tory, indeed," was Ellen's 
 comment, " or else she knew you less than her oppor- 
 tunities permitted, for she risked her happiness most 
 rashly." 
 
 " Her happiness was little at stake, I have thought 
 since ; had she truly loved me she would have prized 
 my honor more." 
 
 " She is fair and very winsome, did you say? " 
 
 " Yes; her manner wins you whether you will or 
 no, and her beauty is of a kind to bewitch to lead
 
 274 DONALD McELROY 
 
 a man on like a swamp light, till, before he realizes 
 his danger, he is hopelessly entangled." 
 
 " Would she not resume her sway over you were 
 you to see her again? " 
 
 A throb of joy set my blood bounding at this 
 question. Did it not suggest a twinge of jealousy in 
 Ellen's heart? And the thought modified my an- 
 swer somewhat. 
 
 " Can a man ever measure the influence of a 
 woman's beauty and fascination upon him? Miss 
 Buford bewitched me once; she might be able to do 
 so again unless my heart had some firm anchor to 
 hold by." 
 
 Ellen sighed lightly, " I wish you had been born 
 a Catholic, Cousin Donald." 
 
 " Or you a Protestant, sweet Ellen." 
 
 Her eyes did not answer the playful smile in mine, 
 nor did she, as usual, chide my endearment; instead, 
 she sighed lightly again, and looked dreamily at the 
 water, breaking about our boat in golden ripples 
 under the slanting rays of a declining sun. " It 
 were a difficult thing for a Catholic to be happy in 
 the valley, Donald." 
 
 " When Mr. Jefferson has carried his statute of 
 religious liberty it will not be. The persecuted be- 
 come readily persecutors; but when we shall all enjoy 
 complete religious freedom, such as this statute gives 
 us, we shall be more liberal toward others. And 
 when the war is ended, and we have formed a free 
 government, we shall have ideals so lofty before us, 
 and scope so broad for all our energies, that there'll 
 be small time or inclination for narrow bickering 
 about creed or doctrine."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 275 
 
 " And this statute will be enacted? " 
 
 " Without doubt. It is one of Mr. Jefferson's 
 cherished measures; and when peace is won, he with 
 Mason, Henry and others, I among them, of diver- 
 gent creeds, but a single ideal, are pledged to give all 
 our energies to its enactment." 
 
 " The brave, I think, are ever liberal-minded," 
 said Ellen, " yet they are stubborn too, fixed as ada- 
 mantine in their principles." And then, as she was 
 wont to do when the talk between us grew personal, 
 she called Captain Bowman to her side and asked 
 him laughingly, if he still thought a Catholic worse 
 than an unbeliever, and priests monsters of super- 
 stition, now that he had lived among them, and had 
 known good Father Gibault? 
 
 " If ever I have thought so I do no longer," re- 
 plied Bowman. " The Kaskaskians are honest 
 Christians, and have been faithful friends to us, 
 while Father Gibault is, I must admit, the equal for 
 piety and charitableness of any Presbyterian parson 
 I have ever known." 
 
 " Then will you not tell them so in the valley? " 
 pleaded Ellen ; " cannot you, with good conscience, 
 speak a kind word for a misunderstood and reviled 
 sect? " 
 
 " But I have yet one serious objection to your 
 church, Queen Eleanor, that it encourages the im- 
 muring behind convent walls such as you women 
 whom the world needs to leaven its sodden mass of 
 selfishness and sin. Since you have relinquished your 
 vow of nunnery, however, and are half willing to 
 reward as he deserves this brave comrade of mine, I 
 can heartily promise not only my tongue but my
 
 276 DONALD McELROY 
 
 rifle also to your defense, and the defense of your 
 religion should there ever be need." 
 
 " But you misapprehend my cousin's purposes, 
 Captain Bowman," I made haste to say; " she is not 
 my promised wife; she but goes to her uncle's home 
 under our protection, and from there, when she is 
 fully ready, to a convent." 
 
 " Grant me your pardon for a soldier's bluntness," 
 said Bowman with an embarrassed bow to Ellen; 
 then followed my lead eagerly, as I broached another 
 subject. 
 
 Fair weather attended us the entire route, with 
 only summer showers now and then to drive us to 
 the cabin's shelter; and placid currents made the row- 
 ing, when we came to ascend the Ohio and the Alle- 
 ghany, easy work. More fatiguing was the land- 
 ward journey, which Bowman, Ellen, and I contin- 
 ued, in company, across mountain range after moun- 
 tain range, valley after valley. When the top of the 
 last ridge was reached, and the fair land of the Shen- 
 andoah lay unrolled to my eager vision, I lifted my 
 hat, and said aloud: 
 
 " Thank God ! once more I am home ! " 
 
 "Aye, thank God for this crowning mercy!" 
 added Bowman devoutly. There it lay, the sweet, 
 peaceful scene I loved better than nature's grandest 
 efforts ! My horse must have felt the joyful impetus 
 throbbing in my heart and tingling through my 
 nerves, for he quickened his gait to match my eager- 
 ness. 
 
 We were still some miles from home, and the 
 sun was setting, when Bowman halted at a farm 
 gate.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 277 
 
 " A cousin of mine lives a mile beyond this mead- 
 ow," he said, " and I shall spend the night with him. 
 He will gladly welcome my friends, and since you 
 cannot hope to reach home before midnight, Mc- 
 Elroy, why not come with me? Queen Eleanor is 
 already tired; see how her shoulders droop; and for 
 an hour she has not spoken." 
 
 I thought I saw assent in Ellen's eyes and so an- 
 swered him, " Thank you, Captain, for a kind sugges- 
 tion. I accept gladly for my cousin, but I am too 
 hungry for a sight of home to need rest. On the day 
 after to-morrow, Ellen, I shall return for you." 
 
 " You are very thoughtful, Cousin Donald," said 
 Ellen, in low tones, as Captain Bowman considerately 
 rode up to the gate, and occupied himself with its fas- 
 tenings. " You will break the news of my coming, 
 and soften the way for me. Good-by till Thurs- 
 day." Then she added with a merry smile, " You 
 may promise what you will for me; I shall be good, 
 and meek, and humble ; I will even learn the Shorter 
 Catechism, and wear my beads and crucifix beneath 
 my bodice. It is easier to be good " her expres- 
 sion changing to one of serious gratitude " when 
 one has a friend and sympathy." 
 
 " And love, you should say, also, Ellen. My 
 tongue is bound by a promise, for a year, yet I wish 
 you not to forget that I shall love you with unchang- 
 ing devotion to the end of my life. Every breeze 
 that caresses your hair, Ellen, every sunbeam that 
 kisses your cheek, will bring a love message from my 
 heart to yours. You cannot get away from my 
 love, dear one, never again while you live ! It will 
 follow you even behind convent walls, should ever
 
 278 DONALD McELROY 
 
 your conscience take you there. You will then bury 
 my happiness as well as your own." 
 
 The words had sprung from my heart, and were 
 spoken without premeditation. I realized, as soon 
 as they were uttered, that they strained, perhaps, the 
 strict letter of my compact with Father Gibault; yet 
 when I saw the flush upon Ellen's cheeks, and met 
 for an instant a tender glance, which seemed to beam 
 without permission from those rare blue eyes, I did 
 not regret the impulse which had made me speak. 
 Who can set bounds to a lover's tongue, or demand 
 of the eye of love that it express only what cold 
 reason bids it say? Hearts have swayed heads since 
 Adam listened to Eve, in the garden, and will to the 
 end of time.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 The messages I bore Ellen from Aunt Martha, 
 when I rode to Mr. White's to bring her home, were 
 ample in assurances of forgiveness and reconcilia- 
 tion, while Uncle Thomas' were full of affection and 
 satisfaction at her return. Aunt Martha I found 
 much changed; she looked not only older, but a new 
 expression of meekness struggled with the habitual 
 one of self-righteousness and indomitable will. 
 Mother, ready as ever to make excuses for the faults 
 of those she loved, declared that Aunt Martha's 
 whole nature had been softened by recent chasten- 
 ings, and that she had even lost her restless, bustling 
 energy, so that one could spend, now, a peaceful 
 afternoon with her and not be conscious of having 
 interrupted a soap boiling, a candle molding, or a 
 quilting. It was evident from my brief talk with 
 her that Ellen's return was a great satisfaction; that 
 she regarded it in some sense as a vindication in the 
 eyes of husband, son, and neighbors. Thomas had 
 just departed for Liberty Hall Academy to continue 
 his ministerial studies, which was one reason, per- 
 haps, that Aunt Martha could welcome Ellen sin- 
 cerely. Especially had Thomas' full confession of 
 all that had passed between Ellen and himself soft- 
 ened his mother's heart toward her, and increased 
 her regret for past harshness. 
 
 Thomas, I found, had been most considerate, hav-
 
 280 DONALD McELROY 
 
 ing given no hint to any one of my feelings toward 
 Ellen. But I told my mother, as we sat talking, 
 late into the night, and got her blessing, with a prom- 
 ise of profound secrecy, and whatever help she might 
 find quiet opportunity to give me. All my own 
 affairs were for the present as I would have them, 
 and my heart would have been as light as thistle- 
 down but for the discouraging war news I had from 
 my father. 
 
 The year that had given us such unbroken success, 
 and such fruitful victories in the Northwest, had 
 been one of disaster for the American cause in the 
 East. The British still held New York ; Fort Wash- 
 ington had been taken, Continental currency was de- 
 preciated in value till it was no longer possible to 
 procure necessary army supplies; the troops had not 
 been paid for months, and were ragged, poorly 
 equipped, half starved, and mutinous. Georgia had 
 fallen, and South Carolina sorely beset by home and 
 foreign enemies, could not hope to hold out much 
 longer unless strongly reenforced from without. 
 Worse still, the gallant and patriotic Arnold had 
 turned traitor, and a shuddering horror and appre- 
 hension was upon the land since the noble and 
 high-spirited Arnold could fall to such depths, might 
 we not look for treason everywhere? On hearing 
 all this discouraging news, I determined at once to 
 visit Colonel Morgan, and to urge him, despite his 
 physical infirmities and his justly wounded pride 
 for Congress had not yet raised him to the rank to 
 which his past services had entitled him to call 
 together his scattered riflemen once more, and go to 
 the help of the hard-pressed patriots of the sparsely
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 281 
 
 settled South. And so I told Ellen as we rode to- 
 gether to Uncle Thomas'. 
 
 " Shall I feel as lonely, and as friendless when you 
 are gone, I wonder, as I did the first time you left the 
 valley with Morgan?" said Ellen with a light sigh. 
 
 " You were a child then," I answered, " and had 
 few resources. Now you are sufficient to yourself. 
 I fear you will not miss me half so much as you will 
 the kindly Kaskaskians, and the good Father, and 
 the faithful Angelique." 
 
 " Bless their memories ! I shall miss them, and 
 long for a sight of their kind faces. But, all the 
 more, since they are so far away, I shall miss my 
 one true and tried friend in the valley." 
 
 " Will you be very lonely and unhappy in the val- 
 ley, Ellen? Would you have been far better con- 
 tented had I left you in Kaskaskia? " I questioned 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Father Gibault thought it my duty, Cousin Don- 
 ald, and more and more I understand that it is the 
 one right thing for me. I must find the way my God 
 would have me walk by following the lowly path of 
 duty, and by making reparation for past sins. Do 
 you remember, Cousin, that night before you left the 
 valley when you found me star-gazing on the rock 
 overhanging the spring? " 
 
 " Aye, Ellen ! The vision of you, as you looked 
 that night, has come back to me again and again 
 so often that I began to question, long before I knew 
 I loved you, as man loves but one woman in his life, 
 what import the vision might have, and to wonder if 
 it foretold the crossing of our lives in some fateful 
 way. That picture was the last that floated through
 
 282 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 my dream the day I slept in the forest, when you 
 saved me from the Indian's tomahawk." 
 
 " Memory, it seems to me, has mysterious power, 
 beyond our will to guide, or our reason to ex- 
 plain," Ellen replied. " That night of our farewell 
 at the spring, the first fibers of affection and sympa- 
 thy reached out from your heart to mine, and 
 through all these months have stretched and held till 
 they have grown strong enough to bring me back to 
 my duty." 
 
 " May they grow yet stronger, Ellen, till our 
 hearts are knitted together for life, and for eter- 
 nity! " 
 
 Ellen's serious absorption was shaken by these 
 words, and she blushed like any earthly minded 
 maiden, as she answered: 
 
 " My heart will ever feel itself bound to yours by 
 the fibers of a deep and strong affection, Cousin 
 Donald, wherever my duty leads me. There can 
 be no harm in a nun's cherishing gratitude and affec- 
 tion, nor in her offering hourly prayers for one who 
 has been to her the noblest of friends." 
 
 " Your thoughts and prayers would be but cheer- 
 less consolation for a desolate life. I want your 
 daily presence, Ellen, the hourly benediction of your 
 smile. But, forgive me, dear," for I saw that 
 her lips trembled like a grieved child's, and that a 
 tear had slipped from underneath her lowered lids; 
 " I am very weak. After all my promises I continue 
 to disturb you with my arguing and beseeching. You 
 shall have a year to think upon it all, and, mean- 
 while, I shall smother in my breast every word that 
 my heart may urge to my lips."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 283 
 
 My visit to Colonel Morgan was made before 
 Christmas, and I returned home cheered by his 
 promise to take the field early in the spring. Mean- 
 while I was put to my old work of enlisting recruits 
 a work much interrupted by the malarial chills 
 which every second day tied me to the chimney cor- 
 ner. Gradually they wore themselves out, and by 
 the faithful use of bitters concocted from the Peru- 
 vian bark Father Gibault had given me, I made my- 
 self fit for active duty by the early spring, and gladly 
 joined Morgan. He had been almost grudgingly 
 made general by Congress at last, and generously 
 forgetting all past wrongs and differences had has- 
 tened to join Gates, after the woeful disaster of 
 Camden. 
 
 But that unfortunate officer reaped now the fruits 
 of his previous scheming and bragging, and fell rap- 
 idly from the favor of Congress, in which he had 
 held so high a place since Saratoga. He was re- 
 placed by the capable General Greene, and roundly 
 abused by the whole country. Having been sent into 
 North Carolina with dispatches from General Mor- 
 gan to certain officers of the State Militia, it was my 
 good fortune on my return to fall in with grim back- 
 woodsmen marching to meet and repulse the advance 
 of Ferguson. I accepted temporary service under 
 Colonel Campbell, and so had the honor of fighting 
 beside those indomitable militiamen, who won the 
 victory of King's Mountain one of the most glori- 
 ous incidents of our Revolution, and the turning 
 point of disasters, from which events marched on, 
 more and more successfully, to Cowpens and York- 
 town. At the risk of wearying my readers with con-
 
 284 DONALD McELROY . 
 
 stant reiteration of the praises of the race from 
 which I proudly claim descent though I have 
 played fair with them, saying, in the beginning, that 
 it was partly with the hope of repairing our histo- 
 rians' neglect of the Scotch Irish that this chronicle 
 was undertaken I must call attention to the fact 
 that King's Mountain was a Scotch Irish victory, won 
 by militiamen of that race. I doubt, indeed, if the 
 plan could have been conceived, or if conceived could 
 have been executed, by regulars. Men used to climb- 
 ing mountains, and to the methods of Indian warfare, 
 were needed to fight and win as the frontiermen 
 fought and won at King's Mountain. 
 
 By the first of January our affairs in the South 
 were more hopeful. Recently discouraged patriots, 
 inspired by the victory of King's Mountain, flocked to 
 General Greene's standard, and that able officer, sup- 
 ported by General Morgan and Colonel Washington, 
 and aided by the daring bands led by Sumter and 
 Marion, soon threatened Cornwallis on both his 
 flanks, and by a series of surprises and sudden maneu- 
 vers so confused that military pedant that he did not 
 know what next to expect, and hardly which way to 
 turn. Having divided his army into two bodies, 
 Greene skillfully avoided a drawn battle, and contin- 
 ued to threaten the British communications. For 
 Cornwallis to sit still was to await his doom ; to march 
 against either army was to give the other an oppor- 
 tunity to win a fatal advantage. He, therefore, 
 divided his own force, sending the renowned Tarle- 
 ton to hold Morgan in check, while he drew Greene 
 after him into North Carolina. 
 
 Morgan retired slowly before Tarleton's advance
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 285 
 
 to some meadows, not far from King's Mountain, 
 and there formed his men upon the field of Cowpens, 
 on gently rising ground, with hills to the left, and a 
 deep, broad river in the rear. There would be no 
 chance for the militiamen to run, for, said Morgan, 
 with grim humor, when they had reached the river's 
 bank they would likely be willing to turn and fight 
 again. We slept that night upon our chosen battle 
 ground, and until past midnight General Morgan 
 was abroad in the camp, inspecting arms, inspiring 
 his officers, joking with his men, and telling them 
 what they and the " old wagoner " would do for the 
 British regulars the next morning. 
 
 To form in fighting line, according to prearranged 
 plan, was but an hour's work, when Tarleton's ad- 
 vance was discovered, and time was still left for our 
 General to ride down the line, encouraging and ani- 
 mating us with a few hearty words such as he so 
 well knew how to fit to each heroic occasion. A furi- 
 ous rush, Tarleton's favorite maneuver, drove in 
 our front line of militia, as had been foreseen, after 
 they had obeyed General Morgan's oft repeated 
 command to fire at least two volleys, at killing range, 
 before breaking rank. But, behind the militia stood 
 DeKalb and his Marylanders, and a tried company of 
 Virginia Continentals, who met calmly the too con- 
 fident pursuit of the British, and fought deliberately, 
 till Colonel Washington's cavalry swooped down 
 from the hills, attacking the enemy's right flank 
 simultaneously with the charge of the militia, which 
 had been re-formed, and marched around our posi- 
 tion, on their left. Already entangled, by their over- 
 eager pursuit of our first column, with their oppo-
 
 286 DONALD McELROY 
 
 nents, and now almost surrounded, the British fought 
 on, gallantly but hopelessly. A bayonet charge from 
 the Continentals in their front quickly brought about 
 rout and panic, and nearly the whole British force 
 engaged was killed or captured. Their loss was 
 nearly one thousand; ours not more than seventy- 
 five. No battle of our War for Independence was 
 more skillfully planned, more boldly won, and to 
 General Morgan, alone, belongs the credit for plan 
 and execution. 
 
 A fortunately heavy rainfall cut off Cornwallis' 
 pursuit, and gave us an opportunity to carry our 
 prisoners across the Catawba. General Greene 
 joined us here, escorted by a few dragoons, his force 
 behind him. Ht had heard of Morgan's splendid 
 victory, and pushed forward to help him reap the 
 fruits of it. But Morgan was now attacked vio- 
 lently by his old enemy, rheumatism, and could not 
 leave his tent; the gallant " old wagoner " who had 
 never known defeat in battle, had more than once 
 been vanquished by disease, the result, he bitterly 
 admitted, of his own youthful excesses. A few 
 weeks later he was forced to resign his command, 
 and to return to his home. 
 
 That circumstance made easier for me the duty 
 which had been assigned me namely, to command 
 one company of the militia which was to escort our 
 seven hundred prisoners to Virginia. My latest 
 service, on General Morgan's staff, had been most 
 congenial to me, and even the honor now offered me 
 of a similar position with General Greene did not 
 console me for the loss of my first leader. The 
 place would have been gratefully accepted, however,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 287 
 
 for I admired and trusted General 'Greene, both as 
 man and leader even with loss of the opportunity 
 of a few days at home, and a glimpse of Ellen 
 had not a circumstance occurred which made me en- 
 tirely willing to perform the duty which had been 
 first assigned me. This circumstance was communi- 
 cated to me by General Morgan. 
 
 " Whom, in heaven's name, think you I found this 
 morning among our prisoners, McElroy? Young 
 Buford the pretty Nelly's brother, he who res- 
 cued you from Philadelphia prison hospital. He 
 has a painful but not dangerous wound in the hip, 
 for which reason he sent to me, asking for ambulance 
 service, his wound having become inflamed from the 
 march." 
 
 "Make him my prisoner, General?" I asked 
 eagerly; " I claim no other share of the spoils." 
 
 " Eh? You'll hold him as hostage for his sister's 
 favor fair stratagem, I suppose. He'll be per- 
 fectly safe in your hands, doubtless, so I'll turn him 
 over to you." 
 
 " To him and to his entire family I owe an obliga- 
 tion which can be repaid in kind only; this is a longed 
 for opportunity." 
 
 " And what will you do with him? " 
 
 " Take him to my own home, even as he did me, 
 and leave him to my mother's nursing, till he is well 
 enough to be discharged." 
 
 " And no parole asked? The terms granted you 
 were less generous." 
 
 " Buford did not make the terms; but if he had, I 
 should still wish to surpass my enemies in generosity, 
 as well as in bravery."
 
 288 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " Then you will decline Greene's offer of a place 
 on his staff? I asked it for you, thinking this excur- 
 sion to Virginia in charge of prisoners less to your 
 liking." 
 
 " It was most kind of you, General, but for this 
 find of Buford it would have been my choice could 
 the place be held for me? " 
 
 " It can be, doubtless, especially if you can bring 
 back some recruits. Greene will need reenforce- 
 ments, and must look to Virginia for them. But for 
 these swollen and painful limbs of mine," with a 
 grimace toward those much swathed members " I 
 should be the last to desert him. It's a bitter pill, 
 lad, to be obliged to go home to be chained by 
 disease to my chair, like a galley slave to his bench, 
 when my spirit is with the front ranks, against our 
 country's enemies." 
 
 " It is a sore grief to me, also, General, and par- 
 ticularly that your malady should attack you now, 
 when your newest laurels are still green, and there 
 are more awaiting you. Your retirement takes half 
 the heart out of me for the service, as it does for 
 every rifleman in the regiment." 
 
 " That spirit must not be encouraged, lad. As 
 much as it pleases me to be regretted by my gallant 
 boys, it would sincerely grieve me were my going to 
 affect in any way their zeal or bravery. I shall ex- 
 pect them to do no less than they have always done, 
 indeed they must fight the more determinedly because 
 their commander has gone stiff and lame and must be 
 content to stand like a used up horse in the stall, 
 munching memories for diversion." 
 
 " You'll get better after a rest, General, and be
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 289 
 
 at it again before the war's over. Not even disease 
 can conquer your spirit." 
 
 " Right, lad ! If the war lasts long enough for 
 my good Abigail to tea and poultice the swelling 
 from my joints, I'll be at 'em again." 
 
 That evening I had Buford removed to my tent, 
 where, presently, I visited him. 
 
 " I am sorry for the occasion, Captain Buford," I 
 said, extending my hand to him, " but since it was 
 written that this misfortune of war should befall you, 
 I am grateful that the opportunity has come to me 
 to repay in some degree the courtesy and kindness 
 I received at your hands, when my situation was 
 similar to your present one." 
 
 "It is indeed Donald McElroy! " Buford ex- 
 claimed, in pleased tones. " I am lucky in spite of 
 this painful accompaniment to my good fortune," 
 pointing to his bandaged thigh. 
 
 " You are now my prisoner," I said, " and your 
 wound shall have the best attention possible." 
 
 " You are then in command of the militia which is 
 to convey us to Virginia? Is it proper to tell me 
 our final destination? " 
 
 " Yours, with your consent, Captain Buford, is my 
 own home. My mother is the best of nurses. I 
 promise you comfort and kind care, at any rate, if 
 you will agree to the arrangements just made between 
 Colonel Morgan and me." 
 
 " One would think me an urged guest, rather than 
 a poor sick prisoner," answered Buford, a smile 
 upon his face. He was much like Nelly, though his 
 was strictly a masculine, as hers was purely a femi-
 
 290 DONALD McELROY 
 
 nine, type of comeliness. " There is small likelihood 
 that I shall decline so generous an offer a comfort- 
 able home and woman's nursing are all too tempting 
 for my present weakness." 
 
 " As was your offer to me in Philadelphia. It is 
 seldom, I imagine, that a man is granted so high a 
 boon as the opportunity to evince in fitting deeds his 
 gratitude. Your mother and sister are well, I hope, 
 and in safety? " 
 
 " My mother is dead, Captain McElroy, and I 
 fear her constant anxiety for me hastened her end. 
 Nelly, poor girl, is left lonely and desolate. She 
 has taken refuge for the present with Quaker friends 
 near the city." 
 
 I expressed my regret and sympathy, and left him 
 to make arrangements for the march next day. His 
 news oppressed my spirit more than one would have 
 supposed; it was hard to think of light-hearted Nelly 
 as a sad refugee. Oh, this weary, cruel war! 
 When would it end?
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Buford's strength had been so burnt out with 
 fever, and so wasted from the suppuration of his 
 wound, that he was but the pale, limp outline of a 
 man when I laid him gently on one of my mother's 
 snowy beds. Had he been more than Tory, more 
 than British officer, my dear mother would have re- 
 ceived him kindly in his present state, and laid aside 
 all other duties to care for him. It was good to see 
 her hovering over him with gentle touch and to hear 
 her say: " They were good to you, son, when you 
 were in like condition, I am proud you brought 
 him to me ; he shall have every care, every comfort." 
 
 " Oh, brother, were you as ill as this, when he 
 took you from the Philadelphia prison? " said Jean, 
 tender commiseration on her face. 
 
 " Weaker, I think, only I had passed the stage of 
 delirium into which he slipped only a few days ago. 
 But look at me now ! See how robust I am ! " and 
 I lifted her by the elbows to the level of my face, 
 kissed her and set her upon her feet again, adding: 
 " Buford will soon be as sound, with yours and 
 mother's nursing." 
 
 " His mother and sister nursed you? " 
 
 " They had me well-cared for. I was over the 
 worst when they found me." 
 
 " We'll nurse him carefully, dear Donald, you 
 may be satisfied of that. Is he, though, really a 
 Tory? He looks like a gentleman," glancing to-
 
 292 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 ward him as she spoke, as if she half suspected Bu- 
 ford of possessing hidden tusks and horns like some 
 fabled monster. 
 
 " And gentleman he is, only his opinions do not 
 agree with ours " ; whereupon I laughed so merrily 
 at Jean's shocked face that mother signed to us to 
 leave the room, lest we disturb her patient. " Aye, 
 little sister," I continued, " prejudice is a most 
 strange thing! 'Tis like a pestilence in the air, poi- 
 soning even the most innocent and pure-hearted. 
 Heaven, Jean, I doubt not, is a place where thought 
 is as free as God's smile, and conviction untram- 
 meled, save by love and knowledge of truth. Such 
 state would almost be heaven, methinks, without 
 other concomitants." 
 
 Jean, though the sweetest of little women, and 
 well endowed with common sense, and all needful 
 womanly reason, cared not, like Ellen, to follow the 
 twistings and wanderings of thought, so she took me 
 straight back to our subject. 
 
 " And if Captain Buford gets well, Donald, will 
 they hang him because he is a Tory? " 
 
 " Do you suppose, innocent one, that we but fatten 
 him for the halter? Either he'll be exchanged, pa- 
 roled, or discharged." 
 
 "Then he'll go back to fight more against us? 
 Oh! Donald, I'm afraid I shall hate the poor man 
 when he begins to get stronger, though he looks now 
 so pitiable." 
 
 " It would be very hard to hate Buford, Jean. 
 You'll forget he's in a sense our enemy. But, don't 
 bother your little head about all this yet; perhaps 
 Generals Greene and Washington may make peace
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 293 
 
 with the British by the time Buford is strong enough 
 to shoulder arms again. A few more victories like 
 King's Mountain and Cowpens and it's done." 
 
 " What would then become of Captain Buford? " 
 persisted Jean. 
 
 " He would be released, and could go back to 
 Philadelphia, or to England, as he pleased. Per- 
 haps his estate would be confiscated, and he might 
 suffer other persecutions. There is much bitterness 
 everywhere against the Tories," I responded. 
 
 "Poor gentleman!" she sighed; "perhaps we 
 ought not to want him to get well." 
 
 " Nonsense, little Jean! Of course we want him 
 to get well, and if he could be consulted he himself 
 would choose to get well, you may be sure. A man 
 worth the name wants to see the end of the play 
 to finish the game to keep up life's battle while 
 muscle and wind are left him to fight with. Do all 
 you can to cure him, Jean, and leave his future in 
 his own hands." 
 
 " And God's," she added reverently. 
 
 All this conversation I repeated to Ellen, during 
 the few brief hours I had to spend with her. Then 
 we went back to the subject of prejudice, and I talked 
 out the convictions which Jean had not encouraged 
 me to express. Ellen was broad-minded, open- 
 souled one of God's chosen transmitters from 
 generation to generation of ever-widening truth. 
 This talk between us upon the subject of prejudice, 
 as to which we were already a'greed, led on to a less 
 general discussion, and gave me opportunity to drive, 
 I hoped, another wedge between superstition and
 
 294 DONALD McELROY 
 
 consecration. Presently I made the enquiry I al- 
 most dreaded to have her answer: 
 
 " Tell me of your daily life with Aunt Martha, 
 Ellen; is each day still a trial to you, exercising all 
 your fortitude and patience?" Her answer gave 
 me my first heart's ease for weeks. 
 
 " No, Donald, I wonder, indeed, if it was ever so 
 bad as I thought, or if my stubborn will and set de- 
 fiance magnified the hardships I underwent, as a 
 child, under Aunt Martha's discipline. However 
 that may have been, I find her, now, disposed to give 
 me full liberty, and to exact few duties. Indeed, it 
 is of my own will that I relieve her of such duties as 
 she will trust me to perform; and since her health 
 fails more and more, she is obliged to let others do 
 many things she once took upon herself." 
 
 " And she never asks you to go to church? " 
 
 " No, but twice I have offered to go. Father 
 Gibault granted me absolution beforehand as 
 Elisha did Naaman should I think it best to at- 
 tend the Protestant meetings which my relatives fre- 
 quented. And I have found the quiet church a bet- 
 ter place to repeat my litany and aves than even my 
 own room; the preacher's voice I can imagine to be 
 the priest's intoning, and if I shut my eyes, I can see 
 the candles, and smell the incense." 
 
 I smiled at this naive confession. " But you 
 make no signs, I hope," I said in pretended serious- 
 ness, which for a moment deceived her. 
 
 " I am careful to do so only under my tippet; and 
 see ! I wear my beads beneath my gown," and Ellen 
 drew forth a small ebony cross and held it out for 
 my inspection.
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 295 
 
 Thinking this scene over later, Ellen's religion 
 seemed to me not only harmless apart from her 
 superstitious vow but so much a part of her as to 
 be lovable. It would nowise affect my confidence 
 and love were my wife always a devout Catholic. 
 Could I be one with her, though, in her religion; 
 could I yield my own simple and sublime faith for 
 hers? to that question came a not uncertain nega- 
 tive. My reason and feelings repelled all the dog- 
 mas and practices so sacred to Ellen, as hers did 
 those most congenial to my spirit! No! I would 
 make no compromise with the woman I loved the 
 woman I would win for my wife. She must come to 
 me trusting all, confiding all. There must be no 
 terms of barter between me and my heart's love. 
 
 The company of militiamen I was able to take with 
 me to General Greene was warmly welcomed, for 
 many of the men of King's Mountain and Cowpens 
 had refused to enlist for regular service, and Gen- 
 eral Greene was using all the skillful tactics of 
 which he was master to avoid a drawn battle with 
 Cornwallis' united army, until his own was strong 
 enough to offer some hope of another victory. De- 
 feat could not be risked just now, for that meant a 
 resubjugated South, and then General Washington's 
 dislodgement from Philadelphia and New Jersey, 
 which would be the end of our hopes and our efforts. 
 The battle of Guilford Court House, fought on the 
 fifth of March, was claimed by the British as a de- 
 feat for the Americans; but Charles Fox realized, as 
 General Greene did, its true import, when he said on 
 the floor of the British Parliament:
 
 296 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 " Another such victory as that of Guilford would 
 destroy the British Army." 
 
 General Greene now retreated to Troublesome 
 Creek and there awaited the expected pursuit. We 
 did not know until later that General Cornwallis had 
 lost a third of his force, nor that he was so encum- 
 bered with wounded, and so needy of supplies of all 
 kinds, as to make pursuit impossible. Slowly he 
 fell back into the Tory Highland Settlement at Cross 
 Creek. We followed, at first cautiously, but more 
 and more eager to dislodge and rout our enemy as 
 we learned of his crippled condition. Our own lack 
 of ammunition prevented our doing so, and General 
 Cornwallis was perforce allowed to cross Deep 
 River, near Ramsay's Mill. Both armies crouched 
 here like two angry lions, pausing in prolonged 
 combat, and waiting but for strength enough to make 
 again at each other's throats for some weeks, the 
 river between, with all its fords vigilantly guarded. 
 We Continentals fared hardly, meanwhile, subsisting 
 on ash cakes, and the black, stringy meat of the half 
 wild cattle, raised on the pine barrens. The damp 
 ground was our bed, and our ragged blankets and 
 our tattered clothes were our only protection from 
 the vagaries of the spring weather. 
 
 A bold decision of General Greene's relieved the 
 strained situation. He would leave Cornwallis in 
 his rear, and advance by rapid marches to the relief 
 of South Carolina. If Cornwallis should follow 
 him he would turn and give him battle; if he 
 should decide to march on northward to cooperate 
 with Arnold in Virginia, the militia and General La- 
 fayette must take care of him. His, General
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 297 
 
 Greene's, task was to relieve the Southern States; he 
 would stick to his work. 
 
 We advanced swiftly to Camden, held by a con- 
 siderable British force, and sat down before it. 
 Cornwallis still remained at Ramsay's Mill. The 
 night before the fall of Fort Watson, which would 
 give us Camden, General Greene sent for me to his 
 tent. "Colonel McElroy," he began I have 
 found no opportunity to state my gradual rise in rank 
 during my eight months of southern service, " I 
 wish to send important dispatches to Governor Jef- 
 ferson, and for obvious reasons prefer to have them 
 conveyed orally. I must have a trusty and well 
 accredited messenger, and one perfectly familiar 
 with the country, therefore I have chosen you. Say 
 to Governor Jefferson that I believe it to be General 
 Cornwallis' intention to advance into Virginia in an 
 attempt to overrun and subjugate that state. Say 
 to him, that I hope, with the assistance of Sumter's 
 and Marion's rangers, without further reenforce- 
 ments, to relieve the Southern States, and after- 
 wards, if I am needed, I will gladly come to the help 
 of Virginia. I would not have him think that I 
 have deserted that noble commonwealth whose aid, 
 more than that of any of the others, has enabled me 
 to do what so far it has been possible to accomplish 
 in this department. I know the bravery and loyalty 
 of Virginians, and have no fears for the result there, 
 but these over-ridden South Carolinians must have 
 instant succor, if the State is not to be given over 
 finally to the British and the Tories. Have you a 
 fleet mount, Colonel McElroy? " 
 
 " The best that can be raised on my father's plan-
 
 298 DONALD McELROY 
 
 tation, and bred from good English hunting stock." 
 " You will need to ride swiftly, and persistently. 
 Once Cornwallis gives the order to advance you 
 know his habit there'll be no delays, no deliberate 
 marches." 
 
 " I fully realize that, General; I will lose no time." 
 " A somewhat circuitous route might be the safer : 
 skirt the Highland neighborhood, though your route 
 be lengthened thereby. It might be well to suggest 
 to Governor Jefferson the extreme importance of 
 guarding any army stores we may have left in Vir- 
 ginia, though doubtless the obvious necessity to do 
 so will occur to him." 
 
 "Where shall I rejoin you, General?" I asked. 
 " I cannot say where one, two or three weeks may 
 find me ; it depends both on Cornwallis' movements, 
 and our successes or reverses, as we attempt to re- 
 lieve South Carolina. I would suggest that you do 
 not try to rejoin me until ordered to do so. Should 
 Cornwallis continue his advance into Virginia, Gov- 
 ernor Jefferson will need you to help to raise and 
 command the militia, doubtless. You may say that 
 I but lend you to him, until the tide of invasion has 
 been rolled back from your State." 
 
 Thanking General Greene for his confidence im- 
 plied, I saluted, and went at once to my tent to make 
 preparations for departure early the next morning. 
 
 Though General Cornwallis had the advantage of 
 two days' start, I overtook him on the third day, and 
 from that time distanced his encumbered movements 
 every hour. Part of my way was over ground he 
 had just traversed, part lay parallel with it, and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 299 
 
 more than one distressing scene came under my ob- 
 servation. Smoldering homes, barns, and hay ricks 
 sent up a sodden smoke from all along the route, and 
 several times I saw women and children sheltering, 
 for lack of better place, under the eaves of half- 
 burned ricks. Say the most one can for it, war at 
 its best is but a grim and terrible necessity.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 My report but confirmed rumors of the approach 
 of Cornwallis which had already reached Governor 
 Jefferson, and I found him wide awake to Virginia's 
 danger, against which he was taking every precaution 
 his exhausted resources allowed. He received me 
 with flattering remembrance of our former meeting, 
 and an unaffected cordiality. Still more, he pleased 
 me by the letter of introduction he gave me to Gen- 
 eral Lafayette, together with certain dispatches in 
 which he spoke of me in terms of personal friend- 
 ship. Among the dispatches was my special com- 
 mission to raise reinforcements in the valley, with 
 which I was to join Lafayette's command as 
 promptly as possible. 
 
 This was my first meeting with the gallant and ele- 
 gant Frenchman, under whom I was to serve during 
 the remainder of our struggle. Morgan, Clark, 
 Greene, and Lafayette were the four great leaders 
 whom I followed during my eight years of military 
 life. They were as different as four great souled 
 men of warlike genius could well be though be- 
 tween Morgan and Clark there was the kinship of 
 spirits cast in primitive heroic mold, a like resem- 
 blance to Achilles, Priam, Alexander and other 
 heroes of an earlier time yet each of the four I 
 could honor and love sincerely, serving him with ex- 
 ulting sense of privilege. 
 
 For this last emergency, recruiting was not need-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 301 
 
 ful. I did not find it necessary, indeed, to cross the 
 mountain, for at its foot I met the grim militiamen 
 of the valley, swarming to meet Tarleton. I had 
 only to form them into a company, and march them 
 to join Lafayette before he began his strategical re- 
 treat toward Fredricksburg, with the double object 
 of protecting the manufactory of arms near Fal- 
 mouth, and effecting a junction with the troops un- 
 der General Wayne, ordered southward to reenforce 
 us. Cornwallis followed Lafayette, taking a paral- 
 lel course to the eastward of ours. Often not more 
 than twenty miles separated us, and we dared not 
 slacken our march for heat or storm while the 
 winged Cornwallis gave chase. The junction with 
 Wayne before a battle was forced upon us was Gen- 
 eral Lafayette's one hope of escape. And now, once 
 more, it was the privilege of the Scotch Irish to ren- 
 der signal service to the cause. To my company, 
 and that of Captain Mercedes, fell the posts of 
 honor and danger. We were the scouts, the pickets, 
 the couriers, and the rear guard on this skillfully 
 conducted retreat. 
 
 We had nearly reached the ford on the Pamun- 
 key we had been pushing for, when a force of the 
 enemy overtook us and pressed upon our rear. Gen- 
 eral Lafayette halted and formed line of battle with 
 the determination to make a desperate stand. I had 
 been sent for to reconnoiter, on the first report of 
 the enemy's advance, and soon discovered that it was 
 only a patrolling force, and that the main body of 
 the British was yet some distance in the rear of us. 
 Hastening with this good news to General Lafayette, 
 I found it more expeditious to travel for several
 
 302 DONALD McELROY 
 
 miles along the road recently gone over by Cornwal- 
 lis' reconnoitering force, and between that force and 
 the British army. As was my rule when on scout 
 service, my squad marched in close column, with de- 
 tail of two in front, and two in rear, as special look- 
 outs. The front lookout stopped suddenly, and 
 seemed to listen; we approached quickly and heard 
 also the confused sounds, with screaming, and hoarse 
 wrangling, which had arrested their attention. 
 Convinced that the force in front, whatever its uni- 
 form and purpose, could be but a small one, I or- 
 dered my men to advance at double quick, and, put- 
 ting spurs to my horse, I came immediately around 
 the bend in the road to the sctne of action. 
 
 A squad of fifteen or more British soldiers sur- 
 rounded an overturned post chaise, from the tangled 
 harness of which, four frightened and struggling 
 horses were being extricated by trembling postilions. 
 In the midst of the group were two female figures, 
 one dressed in black, and heavily veiled, the other in 
 the costume of a lady's maid. It was she who con- 
 tinued to utter piercing screams, throwing her hands 
 about in the most tragic manner, and paying no heed 
 to her mistress' low spoken commands. We were 
 within fifty yards of the group before the thud of 
 our horses hoofs upon the sandy soil was loud 
 enough to rise above this confusion of clamors; and 
 before the mounted British could turn, or the dis- 
 mounted leap upon their horses, we had surrounded 
 them. 
 
 " Stack arms: You are my prisoners! " I called, 
 " and what means this cowardly attack upon a lady's 
 traveling carriage? "
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 303 
 
 " You Americans have a trick of using women as 
 your spies and couriers, and then crying shame upon 
 us if we arrest them, and foil you ! This pretended 
 widow or orphan is doubtless stuffed like a pin 
 cushion beneath her black robes with spies' reports, 
 and warnings to Jefferson ! " replied the officer in 
 charge of the squad, as he angrily stacked his gun 
 beside the rest, and cast scornful glances upon the 
 veiled figure, who, until then, had stood haughtily 
 erect and silent among them. 
 
 " It is a false charge ! " she now answered, spirit- 
 edly; " I bear no dispatches, convey no messages. I 
 but go to seek my only brother, late a British officer, 
 now a wounded prisoner, yet treated by the courteous 
 enemy who harbor him, I doubt not, with more gen- 
 tleness than I am receiving from those who should 
 be most prompt to succor and defend me ! " Then, 
 turning to me, she continued in tones less scornful: 
 " Will you be so good as to inform me, sir, whose 
 prisoner I have now the honor to be? The fortune 
 of war may change, it seems, with such magic swift- 
 ness, that one finds it difficult to be sure of one's 
 present or one's prospective situation." 
 
 " You are no one's prisoner, madam," I replied, 
 stirred suddenly by familiar tones in her voice; " you 
 are under the protection, however, of Virginia troops 
 commanded by Colonel McElroy, and will be con- 
 veyed to some place of safety acceptable to you as 
 soon as possible." I had dismounted, meantime, 
 and stood near her. 
 
 " Can it be Captain Donald McElroy, of Vir- 
 ginia? " she said in lowered and tremulous voice, at 
 the same moment throwing back her veil, and re-
 
 304 DONALD McELROY 
 
 vealing the face of Nelly Buford fairer than ever 
 in its setting of rich hair and banded crepe. 
 
 Does a man ever quite forget his first love? Has 
 its remembrance always power to thrill him, even 
 though the once lively sentiment be supplanted, or 
 outlived? That the sound of Nelly's voice, and the 
 touch of her hand, could yet thrill me, was, just now, 
 a disturbing revelation. I felt myself disloyal to 
 Ellen and so scorned myself for this fresh evidence 
 of weakness, that I fear my manner to her was al- 
 most haughty. 
 
 Having dispatched a courier with my comforting 
 news to General Lafayette, and sent my prisoners 
 after him, under sufficient escort, I ordered the pos- 
 tilions, and some of my men, to right the carriage, 
 and make the harness safe. Then I joined Nelly, 
 and relieved her mind of all anxiety about her 
 brother by telling her of his whereabouts, and the 
 news I had had recently that he was convalescent, 
 and would completely recover. Nelly's thanks were 
 fervently expressed after which she proceeded to ex- 
 plain her present situation, and to give me her double 
 reason for leaving the shelter her generous Quaker 
 friends had for some months afforded her the 
 longing to find her brother, and the wish to relieve 
 her host of the inconvenience and possible danger of 
 harboring one of a family well-known to be strong 
 Tory adherents. 
 
 The carriage having been made ready, Nelly and 
 her maid were shut within, and, preceded and fol- 
 lowed by mounted escort, Miss Buford was conveyed 
 in state to General Lafayette's late headquarters. 
 We found the army gone, and camp deserted, and I
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 305 
 
 surmised, that, upon receipt of my courier's message, 
 the general, seeing yet a chance to escape, had or- 
 dered an immediate advance. We followed, but did 
 not overtake the hastily bivouacked army until past 
 midnight. 
 
 No other accommodation than that Nelly's car- 
 riage offered was procurable, and so I regretfully 
 informed her, to be cheerfully assured that she asked 
 nothing better, if she might have cessation from jolt- 
 ing, and sense of security. The rest of the hot night 
 I stood guard, watching the languid stars blink one 
 by one to sleep, and waging lively warfare with the 
 swarms of greedy mosquitoes, who constituted them- 
 selves surety for my vigilance. As soon as the first 
 flush of morning tinged the eastern sky, I woke one 
 of my men, and left him to guard the carriage while 
 I sought General Lafayette. He was sound asleep 
 under a tree with a gnarled root for pillow, his face 
 and hands covered by his blanket to protect them 
 from the swamp pests. Awakened by my step, he 
 threw off his blanket, looked up at the sky, and mut- 
 tered sleepily some unintelligible words in his own 
 language. 
 
 " General Lafayette? " I said, stepping in front of 
 him, and saluting, " I am Colonel McElroy, at pres- 
 ent in command of a company of Virginia militia- 
 men. Will you grant me a few moments of your 
 time while the camp is getting ready to march? " 
 
 " Most certainly, Colonel McElroy," then, in the 
 precise English of the cultivated foreigner, and with 
 agreeable accent " when I have thanked you for 
 this valuable information sent me last evening. Ah, 
 if fortune continues to favor us, we'll yet escape the
 
 306 DONALD McELROY 
 
 bold Cornwallis, Colonel McElroy ! But we must 
 march unceasingly, till we meet the reinforcements 
 of General Wayne. Then we'll give Cornwallis the 
 fight he seems so much to wish, and show him what 
 may be done by the united gallantry of America and 
 France! But I retard your story, sir; command, 
 now, my attention." 
 
 I related briefly the capture of the British strag- 
 glers, the rescue of the young lady, and added an ac- 
 count of my previous acquaintance with Miss Bu- 
 ford, and the debt of gratitude I felt myself under 
 to her family. He listened with courteous atten- 
 tion, and responded with true French understanding 
 of such obligation : 
 
 " You can do nothing less, Colonel McElroy, than 
 escort the young woman in safety to her brother. 
 Later I shall gladly detail such force to guard you as 
 you may think necessary, but for the present it is 
 safer that she remain with the army." 
 
 " Then you have no objection, General Lafayette, 
 to her carriage and its escort traveling between the 
 main army and my company at present the van 
 guard? " 
 
 " None, sir under the circumstances." 
 
 " I have still another favor to ask, General " 
 somewhat embarrassed by my own boldness " that 
 you' will grant Miss Buford the honor of an intro- 
 duction. Such attention from you as a brief visit to 
 her carriage would avoid all danger of familiar acts, 
 words, or surmise from any of the troops while she 
 must be with us; she would become your guest, and 
 be under your personal protection." 
 
 " A shrewd thought, Colonel, worthy your Scotch
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 307 
 
 name," General Lafayette gayly replied, " and for 
 gallantry of conception not unworthy one of my own 
 countrymen! I consent, with pleasure, and while 
 awaiting your orderly shall make such toilet as my 
 very limited facilities permit." 
 
 Nelly had managed in some mysterious way to re- 
 move all traces of her tiresome journey and broken 
 rest, and stood ready to receive the general, under 
 the canopy of a blooming magnolia, meeting him 
 with the ease of a society queen, and responding to 
 his gallant speeches with grace and vivacity. The 
 susceptible young Frenchman at once proclaimed 
 himself her captive, lingering to talk with her until 
 the troops in front were moving, and the rear guard 
 falling into line of march. 
 
 Twice during the day he rode back to exchange a 
 few words with her, and to assure himself of her 
 comfort. He was so attentive, indeed, and so solic- 
 itous for her, that I think I felt almost a pang of 
 jealousy at being deprived of the full credit of being 
 the fair Nelly's rescuer and protector. 
 
 Our junction with Wayne was effected near the 
 ford of the Rapidan a few days later. Already 
 Cornwallis had given over the pursuit, and turned 
 back to rejoin Tarleton. It was now possible for 
 me to accept General Lafayette's offer of a furlough 
 and escort, with fair prospect of safe journey to the 
 valley by circuitous northeastern route. It seemed 
 my fate, by some claim upon my private sentiments 
 or some untoward accident, again and again to be 
 withdrawn from active service at critical periods of 
 our struggle. As willingly as I now rendered this 
 service to one to whom I owed perhaps my life, I
 
 308 DONALD McELROY 
 
 sighed inwardly to leave General Lafayette at a 
 time when we might speedily expect some chance to 
 strike a telling blow. To the General I expressed 
 my regret, and was gratified by the warmth with 
 which he assured me he would welcome my return 
 as soon as I should have placed my fair charge in 
 safety. 
 
 Not many hours before we reached home, when 
 indeed we were entering the valley, I told Nelly of 
 an amusing conceit that had been running in my 
 head, namely that I was destined for a rescuer of 
 fair damsels, using this as an introduction to the 
 story, I had been casting about for an excuse to re- 
 late, of Ellen O'Neil, and her journey to the west 
 with Clark. But the presence of the maid kept back 
 a full confession, and Nelly's suspicions did not seem 
 to be aroused by my warm championship. Evi- 
 dently she thought I but framed elaborate apologies 
 for a kinswoman. 
 
 Miss Nelly's bearing, in truth, had been a source 
 of disturbance to me for several days. She was so 
 confiding, so almost affectionate in her manner, and 
 seemed to appropriate me with such joyous confi- 
 dence, that it was difficult not to meet her in like 
 spirit. Not unto this day have I been able to de- 
 termine the true meaning of her conduct during that 
 journey. Did she believe that I was yet a captive 
 to her charms? or, was it but the natural overflow- 
 ing of grateful, friendly affection? Or but even 
 as it came I reproached myself for such thought 
 did she wish to make me again her slave, that she 
 might have revenge for my single defiance of her 
 power? Such reflections and uncertainties disturbed
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 309 
 
 me more and more as we neared home ; and mixed 
 with the gratification of uniting Nelly and her 
 brother, and the happiness I could but feel in the 
 near prospect of seeing Ellen, was a sense of vague 
 uneasiness, of shadowy foreboding.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 Seldom have my forebodings gone unverified 
 possibly because I am not superstitious, and they are 
 usually founded upon some more or less clearly 
 realized cause. I had not been home a quarter of 
 an hour till I felt that something had gone wrong; 
 that the usual sweet and serene home atmosphere 
 was impregnated with an illusive element of discord. 
 Every one capable of the finer shades of feeling has 
 experienced, doubtless, the subtle influence of an 
 atmosphere, surcharged with carefully hidden emo- 
 tion that yet jars each soul, and sets all nerves 
 aquiver. Not always, however, is there present a 
 serene, commanding spirit, which can dissipate the 
 threatened storm, by tact and the sunshine of genial 
 graciousness. 
 
 So did Ellen, being for a while my mother's guest, 
 during Aunt Martha's absence at a famed medicinal 
 spring. My father, strangely stern and silent, after 
 his first hearty greeting for me, and courteous one 
 for his latest guest, would warm into fitful geniality 
 under Ellen's blandishments, mother's face lose its 
 look of anxious distress, Jean dimple and brighten 
 in the old way, and Buford relax somewhat his air 
 of dignity and reserve. 
 
 Yet the cause of the evident gloom hanging over 
 the household was, on the second day after my re- 
 turn, still a mystery; the entire family seemed to
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 311 
 
 have entered into a tacit agreement to withhold it 
 from me, and each one carefully avoided a private 
 interview. For a while it defied guessing even; I 
 could only surmise that Nelly's presence had compli- 
 cated the situation, and was to some extent the reason 
 for my exclusion from the family confidence. From 
 the first hour I had seen that Ellen was surprised by 
 Nelly's manner to me, though I alone guessed her 
 unconscious resentment, noting the expression of it 
 through an added flush to her cheeks, a slightly more 
 erect attitude of her head, and a firmer tone in her 
 voice. Mother, too, had presently observed Nelly's 
 apparently unconscious appropriation of me, and 
 watched us both anxiously; then Buford seemed to 
 note it, looked annoyed, and exchanged a quick 
 glance of mingled despair and tender assurance with 
 Jean. That intercepted glance gave me my first 
 hint, and I longed more than ever to get Ellen alone, 
 and to ask the score of questions that hung upon my 
 lips. 
 
 Through all, Nelly seemed unconscious of the 
 false note in her welcome, and the gloom hanging 
 over the household. After her first regret at finding 
 that her brother, though almost as strong as ever, 
 was yet lame, and likely to be always slightly so, she 
 seemed to be entirely content with her new surround- 
 ings, and grew blithe as a child, putting forth all 
 her charms to win over her new friends. I, mean- 
 while, was driven to despair by Ellen's manner 
 by disappointment, longing, and hope continually de- 
 ferred. Once more she was the unapproachable El- 
 len of Kaskaskia sweetly dignified, graciously 
 charming, cousinly kind yet the distance of the
 
 312 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 poles between us ! And, continually, she found ex- 
 cuses to leave me alone with Nelly, constituting me 
 her host and entertainer, while she kept herself oc- 
 cupied with helping mother or with entertaining Bu- 
 ford. 
 
 From Thomas, home for his vacation, the ex- 
 planation came at last. 
 
 "Tom," I asked abruptly, "what is the matter? 
 I have not had a moment's satisfaction since I came 
 home. Father is stern, mother unhappy, Jean fever- 
 ish, and Buford sullen. As for Ellen she avoids me 
 as if I were a dangerous lunatic." 
 
 Tom gazed at me, astonished at my petulance, and 
 answered with provoking calmness: "The trouble 
 or at least their knowledge of it, is so recent that 
 they have had no time as yet to adjust themselves to 
 it, and they do not know how you may take it 
 especially since they are in doubt as to your relations 
 with Miss Buford." 
 
 "What trouble? Speak out, lad! I'm sick of 
 mystery." 
 
 " Jean's avowed love for Captain Buford. 
 Neither your mother nor your father suspected their 
 interest in each other until four days ago, though 
 Ellen tells me she had guessed it for weeks." 
 
 " Well, it is no such grave trouble that the family 
 need sink into despondency because of it. Buford 
 is a Tory, and likely to be always a little lame ; nev- 
 ertheless he's a gentleman by birth and breeding, and 
 lacks none of the qualities necessary to make him a 
 good husband." 
 
 " All that may be true, and yet it is not surprising 
 that Uncle William should object to a penniless,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 313 
 
 lame Tory, and ex-British officer, as husband for his 
 only daughter. Your bringing his sister here just 
 at this time complicates the situation. Buford had 
 decided to go to Staunton, if such move were con- 
 sistent with the terms of his parole, but Miss Bu- 
 ford's arrival brings him the double embarrassment 
 of providing means for two to live upon, and of 
 seeming to decline for his sister your proffered hos- 
 pitality which for himself he has so long ac- 
 cepted." 
 
 " I have General Morgan's permission to release 
 Buford as soon as he is well," I said, " so his parole 
 need not interfere with his plans. And he can sell 
 Miss Nelly's carriage and horses if he is too proud 
 to borrow. Perhaps General Morgan can induce 
 Congress to restore Buford's confiscated property, so 
 that his poverty need not influence father, if he can 
 bring himself to forgive his Tory principles. More- 
 over, I have always intended to divide my western 
 bounty lands with Jean." 
 
 " If you are to marry Miss Buford any objection 
 to her brother as husband for your sister would be 
 untenable." 
 
 " I have no intention, and no wish to marry Miss 
 Buford," I responded impatiently, " nor she to 
 marry me." 
 
 " She seems greatly interested in you, Donald, 
 and lays open claim to you. Well, I despair of ever 
 knowing any woman, and am thankful I have re- 
 solved to live a bachelor. Ellen never treated you 
 as familiarly as Miss Buford, after all your months 
 of comradeship." 
 
 " Ellen is as rare among women, as the nightin-
 
 314 DONALD McELROY 
 
 gale among song birds," I answered, " but Nelly is 
 lovable and womanly, and I owe her an unpaid debt. 
 Look here, Tom; if you'll do me one great kind- 
 ness I will consider myself under obligations to you 
 for life. Pay Miss Nelly devoted attention for the 
 next two days; take her for a long ride to-morrow; 
 do anything to give me a chance for some private 
 talk with Ellen before I go back to the army. Think 
 of it, lad," and I laid my hand entreatingly on his 
 shoulder. " My furlough is almost gone, and I 
 haven't had a moment alone with Ellen! I might 
 be killed in the next battle and never see her again ! 
 She might take a sudden resolve and immure her- 
 self before I can return! I must see her before I 
 go!" 
 
 " I'll do all I can to help you, Don," said Thomas, 
 with a long drawn sigh, " but you couldn't well ask 
 a harder thing of me. Miss Buford, though pretty 
 and gay enough, is not my style of woman ; and more- 
 over, the least I have to say to young women, now-a- 
 days, the better pleased I am ! " 
 
 I might have smiled to see Thomas, not yet 
 twenty-six, affect to be already so blase, and a woman 
 scorner. But I was too feverishly engrossed with 
 my own passionate longings, and half angry defi- 
 ance of circumstances, to be greatly interested in the 
 feelings of others except Ellen's, upon which I 
 knew now depended all my hopes of a life rounded 
 and completed as God meant a man's to be. 
 
 My next confidential talk was with Jean. She 
 poured out all her innocent heart to me, surprising 
 me by the depth of her feelings. My sympathy 
 seemed to comfort her and she promised, without
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 315 
 
 urgence, to heed my counsel for patience and to im- 
 pose like conduct upon Buford. They must wait, I 
 told her, until the war was over and I came home for 
 good. Then, with time and intercession, there was 
 good hope that she would win the full consent of 
 our parents, which meant a far better prospect of 
 happiness than a union unblessed by their approval. 
 I promised her, too, a last interview with Buford, 
 before he should leave for Staunton, and she assured 
 me that she would make him no promises I would 
 not be likely to sanction. 
 
 A second plan had come to me, which offered, I 
 thought, a better chance to both Buford and myself 
 than my first one of sending Thomas and Nelly for 
 a long ride together, which was to make up a horse- 
 back party to the big cave, that Tom and I had 
 often explored in our boyhood and which had now 
 become a resort for pleasure parties. It was but 
 natural that I should wish to show our guest the 
 greatest curiosity in the neighborhood, and also that 
 I should desire one day's pleasuring before I should 
 return to the stern duties of war. I boldly pro- 
 claimed my plan, therefore, at breakfast table, the 
 next morning; it was warmly seconded by Thomas 
 and Nelly, and met with no spoken opposition from 
 any one 
 
 A negro boy was sent ahead, with cart laden with 
 skins, wraps, lunch baskets and candles, and we fol- 
 lowed on horseback an hour later. Tom and Jean, 
 Nelly and I, Ellen and Buford, we started out, and 
 mother viewed the pairing with little less satisfaction 
 than she would have an arrangement more pleasing 
 to most of us. Freed from the suspicious eyes of
 
 316 DONALD McELROY 
 
 our elders, we forgot our reserve and self-conscious- 
 ness, and enjoyed the cool, dim ramble through the 
 crystal studded passage ways, and also our lunch in 
 the cool grove near by, with the light chatter after- 
 ward. When we were mounting for the homeward 
 ride, Thomas revived my waning hopes by boldly 
 proposing a change of partners all around, coolly 
 sending Jean off with Buford, and himself appropri- 
 ating Nelly, leaving Ellen no choice but to ride with 
 me. Even then I was like to be checkmated, for 
 Ellen kept close behind Thomas and Nelly. At last 
 I grew desperate, and riding close laid a restraining 
 hand upon her bridle, stopping her horse just as we 
 were about to enter a beautiful strip of open forest 
 through which the road extended for a mile. 
 
 " Ellen," I said, in firm tones, " I must have an 
 hour alone with you. Let them ride on; we'll fol- 
 low when they are out of hearing. Can you not 
 trust yourself with me for one brief ride after all our 
 journeying together? " 
 
 Over throat, cheek and brow came a sudden glow 
 of crimson like that which was flaming in the western 
 sky; the thick fringed lids dropped over her eyes, 
 and the harp-like vibration I loved was in her voice, 
 as she said: 
 
 " You cannot doubt I trust you, Cousin Donald; 
 you saved me once from claw of wild beast, once 
 from my own folly, and once again from a fate worse 
 than common death, from the Indian's torture stake. 
 I would trust my safety to you under all circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " But not your happiness, Ellen? " 
 
 " My happiness would be but too safe in your
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 317 
 
 hands, dear cousin. One has not always the right 
 to be happy." 
 
 " And it is sometimes a sacred duty to make one 
 who loves you with every fiber of his being, one who 
 would die to save you sorrow, miserable for life. 
 Oh, Ellen, I know that you are true and holy beyond 
 my understanding, yet I can see no reason in this 
 fixed purpose of yours to divert your life from its 
 evident destiny." 
 
 " My weakness assents to all you say, Cousin Don- 
 ald," and Ellen lifted eyes to mine that were ten- 
 derly aglow with feeling, " but you have missed the 
 true reason on which my final decision must depend. 
 If my vow to God may be honestly broken, if I 
 may be absolved from it, it would be only because 
 that were true beyond question which you have so 
 earnestly claimed that your single hope of happi- 
 ness, Donald, depends upon me that by fulfilling 
 my vow, I should leave you to bear the man's 
 struggle, without hope of the man's God-appointed 
 cheer and solace. But recently I have been con- 
 vinced that no one woman circumscribes a man's pos- 
 sibility of happiness, that God wisely has ordained 
 a quick healing for heart wounds. Therefore, 
 cousin, since happiness, thank God, would still be 
 possible to you without me, I am bound by my vow. 
 You will find some one to devote her life to you who 
 is not of alien faith, who has not broken sacred vows 
 that she might come to you; and I, meantime, will be 
 adding to your happiness by daily intercessions for 
 you before God's holy altar." 
 
 Why it was I do not know, but a sudden anger 
 flamed in my heart. Was I always to be answered
 
 3i8 DONALD McELROY 
 
 in this absurd, illogical way, with platitudes of holy 
 vows, and sacred consecration? Were all my pro- 
 testations of devotion to be brushed aside, as not 
 worth believing, and my life's happiness to weigh as 
 nothing against Ellen's will, and pride, her sudden 
 whims and conclusions? Making no attempt to con- 
 ceal my anger and my bitterness, I answered her : 
 
 " Let us have no more of this cant of sacred vows, 
 Ellen. Think you God has cared to register a diso- 
 bedient girl's sick fancy that, by immolating herself, 
 she could render Him special homage, or add one 
 ounce to His power and His influence? You say I 
 do not need your life, that I can find happiness with- 
 out you thus casting back my words as too light 
 for belief, and my heart, my very soul, as of small 
 value beside your vaunted vow. I would I could be- 
 lieve, Ellen, that happiness were possible for me 
 without you. But it is too late for that, and if in 
 perversity of stubborn superstition you condemn me 
 to a lonely, loveless life, I can but endure it with such 
 fortitude as I may learn to command. It would 
 seem to me but poor reflection for quiet convent 
 hours that an honest man's life had been wrecked 
 that a noble family name had perished from the 
 earth all that one more nun might count her beads 
 and offer up prayers in needless repetition to an all 
 powerful God who has no need of such mummery 
 to help him rule with eternal wisdom a universe of 
 worlds." 
 
 " So far apart are we in mind and heart, Donald 
 McElroy," answered Ellen, with flashing eyes, hav- 
 ing reined her horse to a standstill that she might 
 fully face me, " if these be your true sentiments, that
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 319 
 
 never could we hope to be one in spirit; never would 
 I dare to unite my life with yours," and, putting whip 
 to her horse, she joined Thomas and Nelly, nor 
 deigned to show consciousness of my presence again 
 that evening. 
 
 The next day she kept her room, " with head- 
 ache," said Jean. The morning after she came 
 down only at the last moment to say good-by to our 
 guests and me. Vainly I sought the chance to whis- 
 per my regret and repentance in her ear; she was 
 careful to give me opportunity only for a formal 
 farewell in the presence of them all. 
 
 To Buford and his sister I said good-by, after I 
 had settled them comfortably in Staunton, almost 
 with coolness. They, it seemed to me, had repaid 
 my generous wish to more than return their kindness 
 by a crass indifference to my feelings. 
 
 Then I faced to the scene of war, once more, with 
 fierce satisfaction. For the first time I felt a thirst 
 for danger. Since I had thrown away all chance for 
 happiness, I would win a glorious death in the last 
 glorious and successful struggle of my country for 
 liberty 1
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 The battle of Green Spring, fought the third day 
 after I had rejoined General Lafayette that gal- 
 lant officer being now in pursuit of Cornwallis, who 
 was slowly retreating to a less hazardous position, 
 near the sea coast was the one engagement La- 
 fayette allowed himself during the tedious game of 
 march and countermarch at which the opposed 
 armies had been playing for three months. Fight- 
 ing was much more to the taste of the ardent Lafay- 
 ette, but he had learned the art of war in the school 
 of Washington, and knew that a timely and skillful 
 retreat is often worth more than a victory. By such 
 " Fabian policy " as the great leader himself had con- 
 descended to use, to the open scorn of his enemies, 
 Lafayette had completely aborted the concerted in- 
 vasion of Virginia, and had gradually turned Corn- 
 wallis on to the open mouth of the trap which was 
 later to prove so fatal to him. The fight above 
 mentioned was undecisive, and had no other effect 
 than to hurry Cornwallis' retreat to the seashore 
 at a dear cost to us of one hundred and fifty men. 
 
 At Yorktown, the British awaited their fleet with 
 convoys of needed supplies, and hoped daily for re- 
 enforcements from General Clinton; meantime work- 
 ing industriously to entrench themselves. We sat 
 down at Malvern Hill, watching, like a bull-dog be-
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 321 
 
 fore his enemy's gate. The sea protected Cornwal- 
 lis' position on three sides, and a few days sufficed 
 to erect strongly fortified works on their fourth 
 there was small chance for the bull-dog, unless the 
 desired prey could somehow be driven from cover. 
 But he crouched and waited on. This stubborn vigi- 
 lance was rewarded on the last day of August when 
 the flagship of Count de Grasse sailed into the Chesa- 
 peake Bay at the head of the French fleet. 
 
 Our camp went mad with joy as the three thousand 
 French troops under Marquis de Saint Simon landed 
 to unite with us, and on the next day we took posi- 
 tion across the neck of the peninsula at Williams- 
 burg. Cornwallis was in the trap, and Lafayette 
 had sprung shut the last door which offered possible 
 chance of escape. Admiral Graves with the English 
 fleet arrived too late. We watched anxiously the 
 naval battle between him and Count de Grasse, and 
 exulted wildly when the defeated fleet sailed away. 
 Nine days' later, General Washington arrived, his 
 presence the final assurance of coming victory, and 
 close on his heels the whole northern army; by the 
 twenty-sixth of September, the American and French 
 forces confronting Cornwallis were sixteen thousand 
 strong. It was only a question of days now. The 
 brave British, inspired ever by the intrepid Cornwal- 
 lis, could not hold out long in their cramped condi- 
 tion, without adequate supplies, and decimated daily 
 by the deadly fire we were presently ready to pour 
 into the town. Our first parallel was opened on 
 the sixth of October ; the men were so impatient with 
 the prospect of speedy victory after our long struggle 
 against heavy odds, and so reckless with mad en-
 
 322 DONALD MCELROY 
 
 thusiasm, that it took all the authority of the older 
 and more prudent officers to restrain acts of needless 
 risk and exposure. 
 
 That night I had helped to fire the first guns 
 and had witnessed the fearful havoc they made 
 among the enemy's redoubts my whole being was 
 in such tumult from violent and conflicting emotions 
 that I could not sleep. Patriotic joy uplifted my 
 soul to a fervor of grateful emotion one moment, and 
 in the next, a wave of depression overwhelmed me. 
 Apples of Sodom would be even the success of the 
 cause, which so long and so fervently I had cherished, 
 if the future held for me no hope of Ellen's love, no 
 promise of Ellen's companionship! Ah, if I had 
 not lost my last chance by the rashness of my tongue ! 
 had not thrown away my life's happiness by yielding 
 to unreasoning anger ! 
 
 Had I but explained my true situation and feel- 
 ings in regard to Nelly Buford before I began to 
 urge my suit so commandingly, I might have had 
 hope, at least, to feed upon, instead of the certainty 
 of disappointment. Yet why admit failure? If 
 General Washington had done so after Long Island, 
 General Greene after Guilford; where would be to- 
 day the cause of American liberty? No, I would 
 not recognize defeat! I would fight on till no ray 
 of hope was left me. This very night I would make 
 a last appeal to Ellen set before her once again, 
 but more persuasively, all the reasons and arguments 
 that to me seemed so clear. So I lit my last end of 
 candle, took my board upon my knee, found a bottle 
 of pokeberry ink, sharpened a quill and wrote the 
 ardent words flowing from my quill's end more freely
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 323 
 
 than the thin purplish red fluid in which I tran- 
 scribed them : 
 
 " Dear Heart of my Heart: 
 
 " Past midnight, and this vast camp lies wrapt in 
 slumber. No sounds disturb the star lighted peace 
 save now and then the faint call of the sentinels, and 
 the distant roaring of an occasional gun, fired from 
 our first parallel which we opened to-day. To my 
 tent, far in the rear of our front line, these sounds 
 come softened into the musical echo of to-day's joy- 
 ous excitement, and hint of to-morrow's glorious 
 promise. Though the sweet and brooding peace of 
 the night, the benediction of the stars, and the ca- 
 resses of a gentle breeze, all woo my tired limbs and 
 excited mind to needed repose, my heart is too full 
 of longing thoughts of you, dear Ellen, to admit 
 sleep ! 
 
 " I see your dear face as last I saw it, flushed, hurt, 
 angry, and hear that voice, whose tender tremor is 
 the sweetest music my ears have known, ring sharp 
 and firm in those words which were the death knell 
 of my hopes. In no other mood than that one, in 
 which I have seen you so rarely, can I recall you 
 the hurt and angry state so foreign to your warm 
 and generous nature. Yet I cannot upbraid you, 
 dearest, or in anywise blame you, that last I saw you 
 in a mood which so ill-becomes you, for I was its just 
 occasion. I was too impetuous, too assertive, dear 
 one. I knew it ere the rashness left me, and would 
 have given my right arm to have been able to blot 
 my foolish words from your memory. I longed to 
 explain, to implore your forgiveness, to humble my-
 
 324 DONALD McELROY 
 
 self before you, and to recall all I had said that 
 could give you offense but you gave me no oppor- 
 tunity; was it not, mavourneen, a needlessly cruel 
 punishment to deny me a last chance to beg for 
 mercy, a moment to say farewell? Yet, dear one, 
 though I expressed myself rudely, and went too far, 
 much of what I said was true, as your generous 
 spirit has already admitted when you have, with 
 characteristic nobleness of soul, recalled my words 
 in the hope of finding excuses for me. 
 
 " Perhaps before this letter reaches you it goes 
 by special courier to Richmond, with General Wash- 
 ington's dispatches to Governor Jefferson a glori- 
 ous victory will be ours. General Cornwallis and 
 his army are completely surrounded, and must sur- 
 render in a few days. This will end the war, think 
 all the officers, and bring us peace with Great 
 Britain upon liberal terms. The United States of 
 America will be a free republic, and before us 
 stretches a noble future with the grandest possibili- 
 ties that the mind of statesmen have yet been able 
 to conceive. We shall have a free representative 
 government administered by noble patriots, such as 
 Washington, Jefferson and Adams. We shall abol- 
 ish all prerogatives of class, party and creed; not 
 only life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness will be free 
 to all, but entire freedom of religious thought and 
 free speech will be the unquestioned right of all the 
 inhabitants of America. And not only freedom, but 
 prosperity will be within reach of all. The wide 
 and fertile plains of the West await but the claim of 
 the settler to constitute a rich heritage. My heart 
 thrills at the realization of the vast territory which
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 325 
 
 Clark and his handful of Virginians added to that 
 country which shall be called the American Repub- 
 lic. And you, Ellen, and I had our share in that 
 glorious enterprise. Can any citizen of America fail 
 to experience the glow of a true patriot's fervor, a 
 thrill of true patriot's pride, upon contemplation of 
 the noble destiny which a glowing future seems to 
 promise our land with Freedom's crown upon it? 
 A destiny that will be shared with all who come to 
 us. 
 
 " But oh, heart of my heart, my joy and exultation 
 for my country are overcast with the gloom of de- 
 spair ! despair of any hope for my own life, any hap- 
 piness for my own heart. Even my joy in our vic- 
 tory will be but the dim shadow of what it would be 
 for my spirit is sick from this gnawing regret, and 
 despair, eating daily deeper and deeper into my 
 heart, till all buoyancy has left me, and I have 
 longed for death. That madness is past, dear El- 
 len, else I would not tell you of it, but in truth I 
 have sought death for days, as a mother seeks a lost 
 child, wooed it as a lover wooes his mistress while 
 yet there is hope. Not even death would come to 
 my relief and now I see it was a weakness to have 
 sought it, a blasphemy to have prayed for it. I 
 shall live out as even I must, the span allotted to me, 
 and strive at least for the patience of hopeless resig- 
 nation. 
 
 " Two pictures, Ellen, haunt the sick visions of my 
 idle, waking hours, and glide nightly through my 
 dreams. One is that which might have been, the 
 other that which, alas, likely will be! I see a spa- 
 cious mansion, crowning a green and gently sloping
 
 326 DONALD McELROY 
 
 hill; its wide windows open to the sweet air and 
 gracious sunshine of Virginia; its doors hospitably 
 spread to welcome kinsmen, friends, neighbors, or 
 wayfarers, whether bringing or needing blessing. 
 At the foot of the hill, and seen from the broad 
 verandas, stretch luxuriant meadows, where sleek 
 horses and lazy herds of cattle wade knee deep in 
 blossoming grass, and pink headed clover. 
 
 " Roses, lilies, and pinks bloom in the garden be- 
 hind the house, and their fragrance floats in through 
 doors and windows. Music too is there, for happy, 
 unmolested birds sing their praises to their Creator, 
 and the sweetest voice in all the world speaks kindly 
 to contented slave, or happy child, or croons tenderly 
 to the rosy infant. And beauty is there, rarer than 
 that of the fair landscape to be glimpsed through 
 doors and windows, for the fairest, loveliest woman 
 in Virginia fills this happy home with her sweet per- 
 vading presence, and casts over it a rare and name- 
 less charm a spell which brings to all its inmates, 
 from master to slave, from visiting friend to chance 
 guest, a sense of assured comfort and cheerful con- 
 tent Does not your heart tell you, oh, heart of 
 my heart, that such home might be ours ! and can 
 you conceive for any woman, even for my own rare 
 Ellen, a nobler destiny than to be the mistress of such 
 home, the priestess of such heart shrine? 
 
 " But the other picture ! A gloomy convent cell 
 in which a spirit-worn one whose lingering beauty 
 glads no tender heart, charms no eye of love 
 kneels with face of despair, to pray for grace not to 
 loathe a life of useless sacrifice, of cloistered inac- 
 tion, so little suited to an ardent and loving soul,
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 327 
 
 so fruitless in bringing real peace, true heart renun- 
 ciation, a life of small service to man or God, and 
 of worth only because it brings to the heavy-hearted 
 nun daily self wrestlings. And ever as she prays 
 there comes between her and the Christ vision for 
 which she yearns, and hourly implores her God, the 
 sad face of a man, old before his time, and hope- 
 lessly resigned to sit in listless idleness by another's 
 fireside, because he has no heart for one of his own. 
 
 " His old comrades and friends have built for 
 themselves spacious homes, transformed the wilder- 
 ness into rich estates, carved out useful and honor- 
 able careers, and are counted among those Virgin- 
 ians who are laying broad and deep the foundations 
 of country, state, and family. But he, lacking the 
 dear responsibilities of wife and children, having no 
 descendants to carry the name in honorable memory 
 and emulation to future generations, has dropped out 
 of the struggle, given over the race; and, broken- 
 hearted and despairing, lives only to recall the mem- 
 ories of an active and inspired youth. 
 
 " Can you, Ellen, mavourneen, contemplate this 
 last vision, and not be moved to the thought that 
 such end for God-endowed spirits, destined to com- 
 plete each other's lives, were indeed a fearful sacri- 
 fice? That the tears, regrets and prayers of the nun 
 would be but poor recompense to God if there can 
 be a reckoning between man and his Maker for 
 two unfulfilled lives, and lost generation after gen- 
 eration of human souls adequately gifted by noble 
 birth, and honest inheritance, with health, comeliness, 
 happiness, and opportunities, and trained in love of 
 country, love of progress, love of virtue, love of
 
 328 DONALD McELROY 
 
 God! My children shall have no other mother, 
 Ellen, should you finally determine to let your super- 
 stition stifle your heart; know that in doing so you 
 cut off from the earth the race of McElroy. Last 
 male of the line am I, and vowed to go childless to 
 my grave unless my offspring may call mother the 
 one woman who is the love of my life, heart of my 
 heart, hope and inspiration of my soul! 
 
 " As soon as General Cornwallis surrenders I 
 shall ask for a furlough, and come home for my final 
 answer. Oh, my Ellen, dearest of dear ones, will 
 you not crown my rejoicing, make of true worth to 
 me our hard-won victory ! and fill one patriot's breast 
 with that supreme happiness of love accepted and re- 
 turned which is the wine of men's souls, the one 
 elixir which can furnish them with courage and in- 
 spiration for the constantly repeated struggles and 
 continually renewed efforts of life ! 
 
 " May that God who is your God and mine, the 
 God of your fathers and the God of mine, come to 
 you in dream or vision, through word of saint or 
 prophet, and open your eyes to see, as I see, that des- 
 tiny which is the noblest and holiest for woman! 
 Yet always, dear one, whether the happiest, or the 
 most sorely bereft of men, I shall be 
 
 " Your true and loyal friend, your sworn knight, 
 your devoted lover, 
 
 " DONALD MCELROY." 
 
 My candle sputtered feebly in its last effort to do 
 its duty as I folded and sealed my letter. As I 
 crossed the camp in search of the courier, the form- 
 less dull gray of the eastern landscape was suddenly
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 329 
 
 aroused by the yet unrealized promise of the coming 
 sun, and soon appeared a glow of life, under whose 
 influence the bolder features of the landscape began 
 slowly to assume their natural forms. Half an hour 
 later, when I was returning to my tent, the whole east 
 was glowing gorgeously and every smallest detail of 
 the landscape was limnad in vivid light. Nature was 
 pulsing with life in every part, beneath the first kiss 
 of the sun. So would a word of kindness from Ellen 
 scatter the heavy, chill mist from my heart, and set 
 my whole nature a-quiver with a new life of hope 
 and joy. 
 
 To history belongs the record of those brave days 
 when American and Frenchman vied with one an- 
 other in deeds of daring gallantry, and when hour by 
 hour our long delayed reward came nearer. Gen- 
 eral Cornwallis made a brave resistance, and delayed 
 surrender almost to the point of madness. Our final 
 exultation the day Cornwallis gave up his sword, 
 and the long line of our prisoners marched between 
 our lines to stack arms was, indeed, much softened 
 by respectful admiration and sympathy for our gal- 
 lant late foes, and their broken-hearted General. 
 
 As we all know family quarrels are usually the bit- 
 terest, but somehow this long contest between the 
 American colonies and the mother country did not 
 seem to breed any deep-seated animosity between 
 their respective peoples. It may have been that the 
 people of England as certainly some of their 
 statesmen did recognized that we were but leading 
 the vanguard of progress toward a happier order for 
 all nations. England is not fond of experiments, yet
 
 330 DONALD McELROY 
 
 none are more freedom loving than her sons. They 
 have but moved on more conservatively, more delib- 
 erately to their goal. 
 
 Or perhaps the happy absence of any lasting bit- 
 terness may have been due to the circumstance that 
 our war except for its few Indian episodes was 
 conducted with as little savagery as war may well be. 
 Whatever the explanation, it is true that in two days 
 after Cornwallis' surrender the officers and men of 
 the two armies were fraternizing like brothers, and 
 not a few of our late enemies were already declaring 
 their intention to remain in this new land of promise 
 and to cast in their lot with the American Republic. 
 
 At a banquet given by our colonels to those of the 
 British army, toasts were drunk to a firmly cemented 
 and lasting peace between our respective countries 
 and then to a steadfast alliance between England and 
 America. In response to the last of these I ventured 
 the prophecy that the two great English-speaking 
 peoples would not only be bound together presently 
 by ties of blood and language into a close alliance for 
 mutual welfare, but that side by side they would go 
 forward toward higher and higher ideals of free gov- 
 ernment and universal brotherhood, pointing the way 
 to a nobler civilization than had yet been conceived. 
 Carried away by my own fervor, I even predicted a 
 time when the two nations, England and the United 
 States of America, that was to be, supported by 
 France perhaps, would make the last fight against 
 autocratic power and military rule, to conquer the 
 world for democracy to the end that war might 
 forever cease, and the world begin to be made ready 
 for the coming of the " Prince of Peace."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 331 
 
 It was a perfervid and wild harangue doubtless, 
 and some of my fellow-officers who heard it never 
 ceased to twit me about my one burst of eloquence. 
 Nevertheless, it seemed at the time to chime in with 
 the mood of my hearers, who soundly applauded 
 these sentiments. If events since, and especially 
 more recent ones, have made me appear but a poor 
 prophet, I am still not ready to withdraw my predic- 
 tion, and I still believe that the destiny of humanity 
 lies in the keeping of the Anglo-Saxon peoples, who 
 will, I yet maintain, go steadily forward through 
 mistakes and errors to a better understanding and a 
 closer friendship. 
 
 General Lafayette granted my request for fur- 
 lough with playful jest about the fair refugee who 
 awaited my coming, and my blush and stammer 
 doubtless confirmed his suspicions. I lost no more 
 time getting home than I could help, you may be 
 sure, but every man I met stopped me to get details 
 of the big news, which had spread like fairy fire, and 
 men, women, and children ran out to question me as 
 I passed each hamlet. 
 
 Jean was on the porch enjoying the bracing balmi- 
 ness of a bright October afternoon when I rode up, 
 and ran with glad cry to meet me. Father and 
 mother were gone to Staunton for the day father 
 to get further news, mother to lay in the fall sup- 
 plies and Ellen was back again with Aunt Martha, 
 whose health failed more and more, so that Ellen 
 was her chief dependence. All this Jean told me 
 and more, while she urged upon me the laziest 
 chair, and brought sangaree and spiced cake to re- 
 fresh me.
 
 332 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " You, dear Jean, are well again and happy if 
 your face is index to your feelings," I said, when my 
 first eager questions had been answered. " Have 
 father and mother already been won over to Buford's 
 cause? I knew they never could stand to see our 
 little maid wear sad face, and lose all her pretty 
 bloom." 
 
 " It was not all done by my reproachful looks," 
 she answered, smiling and blushing. " Ellen's influ- 
 ence more than any other has changed them. Oh, 
 Donald, she is the dearest girl, and her tact is won- 
 derful! Neither father nor mother know when it 
 was done, but gradually she has made them like Cap- 
 tain Buford, till now they are willing for his sake as 
 well as for mine. Mother told me yesterday that 
 they but waited for your full approval to withdraw 
 all objection to our marriage." 
 
 " Then, little sister, Buford's happiness is assured, 
 and yours too, I believe. He is a brave and an hon- 
 orable gentleman, and likely to make his wife a 
 happy woman. His poverty, for most of his prop- 
 erty will be confiscated, doubtless, is the one draw- 
 back, but if I get my western bounty lands, I shall 
 be able to make up for that. A deed to one-half of 
 my share shall be my wedding gift to you." 
 
 " Dear Donald, you are the very dearest of 
 brothers," and Jean perched herself upon the arm 
 of my chair, kissed my forehead, and began to 
 thread my somewhat neglected locks with her slender 
 fingers. " Will you think me presumptuous, brother, 
 if I ask you a personal question? " she began pres- 
 ently, with apparent hesitation. 
 
 " I can hardly think of a question my little sister
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 333 
 
 would not have the right to ask me," turning my head 
 to smile encouragement upon her. 
 
 " Did you ever think Nelly Buford a coquette? " 
 she asked, waiting for my answer with amusing anx- 
 iety. 
 
 " Can any one who has ever known her exonerate 
 her from the charge? " I replied with a smile " un- 
 less it is Buford, who has never guessed his sister's 
 weakness. Is it high treason in his eyes for his 
 prospective wife to harbor such suspicions? " 
 
 "Oh, we never discuss family matters; I was 
 thinking only of your opinion of Nelly." 
 
 " Is my judgment upon coquettes so valuable? " 
 
 "Then you do not love Nelly, Donald? Oh! 
 I'm so glad ! " 
 
 " No, I do not love Nelly Buford, though she's a 
 winsome maiden. But why rejoice, little sister? 
 Do you disapprove of too close family entangle- 
 ments? " 
 
 " I could not be happy if it were not so," Jean 
 responded enigmatically. 
 
 " And why? " Indifferent to Jean's meaning, my 
 thoughts wandered off to the far greater likelihood 
 of my love for Ellen bringing me unhappiness. 
 
 " She has promised to marry Thomas ! " 
 
 "Thomas?" I almost sprang from my chair 
 with surprise. " Thomas and Nelly Buford to be 
 married? " and then I laughed long and heartily. 
 
 Jean laughed too. " It is funny, Don, for at first 
 Thomas barely endured Nelly. I believe his indif- 
 ference nettled her into a determination to win him. 
 She seems entirely unsuited to a parson's wife, much 
 less a missionary's. Thomas declares he is going to
 
 334 DONALD McELROY 
 
 Kentucky as a border missionary, and that Nelly is 
 willing to go with him anywhere." 
 
 " And give up her Tory principles, and her Epis- 
 copal faith? Wonder of wonders is this love which 
 overleaps all barriers as easily as a hunter takes his 
 ditch. Does Ellen know of this? " 
 
 " Yes, and seems to be very happy over it. I think 
 she feels now for the first time easy in conscience, 
 since Thomas' happiness, as well as his calling is 
 assured." 
 
 " And what says Aunt Martha? " 
 
 " She says very little about it, though we all know 
 that Nelly would not have been her choice for 
 Thomas. She told Ellen, when first she heard it, 
 that she had interfered, already, too much with the 
 lives that other people had to live, and that she no 
 longer felt that confidence in her own judgment she 
 once had; that humility was the latest flower of her 
 Christian experience, and though but a weak and 
 sickly bloom, she wished to cherish it." 
 
 " Poor Aunt Martha. She has suffered much, 
 then?" 
 
 " Yes, but mother and Ellen say she has grown 
 daily gentler under her sufferings." 
 
 " Only natures of true worth are ' refined by the 
 furnace of affliction,' to my observation Aunt 
 Martha evidently deserved not the youthful scorn I 
 felt for her. But tell me more of Ellen she is, 
 you think, really happy to be Aunt Martha's nurse? " 
 
 " Yes, Ellen is more light-hearted recently than I 
 have ever known her; Aunt Martha called her, talk- 
 ing to mother yesterday, ' a well-spring of happi- 
 ness,' and said it made her very thankful when she
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 335 
 
 considered how Providence had forced upon her a 
 daughter against her time of need, in spite of her 
 utter undeservingness." 
 
 Scarcely could I wait to greet my parents, I was 
 so eager to see Ellen, to fathom the true cause of 
 her unaccustomed gayety of spirits, which even the 
 love-absorbed Jean had noticed. I found her so busy 
 with household duties, and attentions to Aunt Mar- 
 tha, that I was obliged to content myself, after the 
 first greetings which told me without need of 
 words that I was forgiven with the vision of her 
 flitting about busily, and the exchange of an occa- 
 sional meaningless remark. When reluctantly I 
 rose to go, Uncle Thomas asked me to stay to tea, 
 and I accepted so eagerly, that I think Aunt Martha 
 guessed, at last, my secret. Either because of that, 
 or the way my truant gaze followed Ellen's every 
 movement. At any rate she surmised the real rea- 
 son of my prompt visit to them, and when supper 
 was over, came to my help with something of my 
 own mother's tactfulness. 
 
 " Donald," she said, " take Ellen out to the porch, 
 and make her rest while you tell her all about York- 
 town as you told it to me while she was at the 
 dairy; Ellen never takes time to rest unless I make 
 her. Thomas will sit with me." 
 
 For a while we talked perfunctorily, and with em- 
 barrassed self-consciousness, like children who are 
 bidden to be sociable ; and I did describe to her the 
 final scenes at Yorktown, but with such lack of inter- 
 est in my own story my mind all the time on 
 other words I wished to speak that there was no 
 spirit in the narrative. Disgusted with my bungling
 
 336 DONALD McELROY 
 
 of such an inspiring subject, I broke off abruptly, 
 then after a silence surcharged with emotion " Oh, 
 heart of my heart," I asked, " have you ready the 
 answer to my letter? " 
 
 " Almost," and there was the dear harp-like 
 tremor in her tones, which bespoke deep feeling. 
 
 " Meantime I may feed on hope, may I not, ma- 
 vourneen? " 
 
 " Some men need only their own resolution, Don- 
 ald, to base assurance upon," and she smiled at me, 
 in such wise that I grew suddenly dizzy, then gliding 
 away from me to the top of the steps " you are 
 one of those masterful men, cousin, whose will is not 
 to be gainsaid by any weaker vessel." 
 
 " So I fail not this time, I can trust my will for 
 all the rest of my life," I answered " but you know 
 full well, Ellen, that with you I am very coward," 
 following her, and capturing the hands she had 
 clasped about a column of the porch. " Dearest one, 
 I have waited long, and, it seems to me, most pa- 
 tiently and humbly ask not, I beseech you, much 
 more of my fortitude." Then I kissed softly the 
 blue-veined wrists, where her heart's blood pulsed 
 warmest, and asked once more, " May I hope, ma- 
 vourneen?" getting for answer a low, but tenderly 
 spoken " Yes, but ask no more, now. Be patient, 
 dear Donald, only a little longer," and once more 
 she lifted her quivering eyelids, and flashed a smile 
 upon me which filled my veins with an all-pervading 
 thrill of fiery joy. Again I kissed the white wrists, 
 looked into her eyes for one instant, spoke a mur- 
 mured word of joy, then lest I could no longer 
 resist the mad impulse to clasp her in my arms, and
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 337 
 
 ease all my violent emotion in passionate caresses 
 turned, and, without daring to grant myself a single 
 backward glance, walked swiftly away in the star- 
 light. No single self-conquest of my life cost me 
 the effort of that one.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 Buford came down from Staunton the morning 
 after my arrival to urge upon mother and Jean an 
 immediate marriage. News had just come to him 
 that made his presence in Philadelphia necessary 
 within the fortnight, and he was so unwilling, he 
 declared, to leave the valley until Jean was his own, 
 beyond question of his right to return for her, that, 
 rather than do so, he would forfeit the chance for 
 pardon, and restoration of his property, which this 
 call to Philadelphia seemed to promise him. With 
 my help mother's objections were overborne, and it 
 was settled that the ceremony should take place on 
 the first day we could procure the services of a clergy- 
 man of the Church of England. 
 
 Under the establishment, a marriage solemnized 
 by any other than an Episcopal rector was not 
 strictly valid in law, and though such marriages had 
 been spasmodically tolerated under certain circum- 
 stances, they were regarded with such ill favor by 
 the courts that they often gave rise to unpleasant 
 complications afterwards. It was, therefore, our 
 custom to submit to the mortification of begging the 
 nearest Episcopal clergyman to read the service, 
 previous to the solemnization of the contract by our 
 own minister. The nearest clergyman to us lived 
 more than thirty miles distant, and as he spent much 
 of his time in Williamsburg, it was a difficult matter
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 339 
 
 to induce him to go any distance to legalize the mar- 
 riage of dissenters. However, I preferred not to be 
 the one to enlighten Buford on this subject. 
 
 Buford and I rode together to see the clergyman, 
 while Thomas went to Staunton for a persuasive 
 interview with Nelly we to join him there next 
 day. Our clergyman was at his midday meal when 
 we arrived, and we were left to cool our heels in his 
 draughty hall while he finished leisurely an evidently 
 tempting repast. He came out to us after three 
 quarters of an hour, cleaning his teeth with a golden 
 pick, a string of hounds at his heels, and his top 
 boots muddy from his morning ride. We intro- 
 duced ourselves, and announced our business. 
 
 " You are modest in your request, sirs. Think 
 you I have nothing else to do than to ride all over 
 the State reading the marriage ceremony for dissen- 
 ters? Such usually come to me. Bring your 
 wenches behind you any afternoon this week and 
 I'll make quick work of the marriage service for 
 your benefit." 
 
 " This gentleman, sir, who is to marry my sister," 
 I made calm answer, though restraining my anger 
 with no small effort, " was late an officer in the 
 British army, and is a member of the Church of Eng- 
 land. He is entitled to your services, therefore, 
 through the double claim of like politics and religion. 
 His sister weds my cousin. To neither of them 
 would it appear seemly to ride the width of two 
 counties to seek their church's blessing on their mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " You should have stated those facts before," re- 
 sponded the clergyman stiffly, but with sense enough
 
 340 DONALD McELROY 
 
 of decency to flush as he turned to Buford. " Your 
 rank and name again, please. 1 shall be glad to 
 come to you any day and hour you may name. It is 
 my duty and my privilege to go wherever needed by 
 those of the established faith, but I do not consider 
 it so to be gallivanting from hut to hut to marry all 
 the heretics in this valley who have made such ado 
 about the tithings of their pitiful substance, that the 
 State has been forced to heed their clamor, and we 
 are cut down to a beggar's stipend." 
 
 " Since the State requires your services to legiti- 
 matize marriage, since you are paid to perform that 
 duty and from the scarcity of your parishioners 
 I judge your other duties are by no means onerous 
 I see not how you can excuse yourself," was Buford's 
 cool rejoinder " But you shall be well paid for your 
 needful assistance, sir. Shall we say Thursday 
 afternoon, McElroy? There is to be a second serv- 
 ice in the evening, solemnized by your own minister, 
 as you know, and this would better be got through 
 with beforehand." 
 
 Buford, I saw, was seething inwardly by this 
 time, and holding the reins on his passion with rigid 
 grip; the clergyman, too, was waxing hot, and there 
 was need to terminate the interview as soon as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 " It is small wonder, McElroy, that you Presby- 
 terians are so set against an established church," 
 commented Buford as we remounted our horses. 
 " I understand as never before, that men appointed 
 to holy office by royal or state patronage are more 
 likely than otherwise to be men unfitted for the dis- 
 charge of sacred duties; to them it is a living rather
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 341 
 
 than a holy calling. Count me on your side, Don- 
 ald, when you are ready to throw yourself into the 
 fight for religious liberty, which is, I believe, the next 
 war you Scotch Irish propose to engage in, now that 
 your state independence has been won." 
 
 " The fight for religious liberty and for the sepa- 
 ration of church and state is already on. All 
 through the greater war our ministers have kept up 
 a brisk warfare of yearly memorials and petitions to 
 the State Assembly. Four years ago Mr. Jefferson 
 drew up a statute of religious liberty which he offered 
 to the Assembly, and which has since been brought up 
 at each session for warm discussion. Sooner or later 
 the measure will be carried, and you are right in sup- 
 posing that that is the next fight in which I shall 
 enlist; nor shall I forget your promise to be on my 
 side the next time," and I laid my hand on Buford's 
 arm. Already I felt almost a brother's affection 
 for him. 
 
 " After this, Donald," said Buford with feeling, 
 " your people shall be my people, your country my 
 country, and your interests mine; and," he added 
 more lightly, " if I meet many more mere holders of 
 livings, like the clergyman we have just left, your 
 religion shall be mine also." 
 
 " You and Jean shall settle that question to your 
 mutual satisfaction," I answered, smiling; " if you 
 can make an Episcopalian out of her you have my 
 consent." 
 
 " She shall make anything out of me she wishes," 
 and Buford's face and voice were softened by quick 
 springing tenderness. " My one ambition shall be 
 to make her happy."
 
 342 DONALD McELROY 
 
 " You will not find that a hard task," I answered, 
 with a sigh for my own delayed happiness; "she 
 loves you dearly." 
 
 " Look here, Donald. Some forts may not be 
 taken by the most persistent siege; a bold assault is 
 the only way. Miss Ellen loves you, but she dare 
 not close the door for good and all on the morbid 
 conscience to which she has so long listened. Sur- 
 prise her into an irreclaimable step, and she will but 
 love you the more for having mastered her will, since 
 you have already mastered her heart. 
 
 " But how? " I questioned eagerly. " I was never 
 shrewd at strategy, and am, at best, but a backwoods- 
 man in love warfare." 
 
 " Procure a license for your marriage to-day, and 
 Wednesday show it to her, refusing to listen to her 
 plea for postponement. 
 
 " Ellen would hold no marriage valid for herself 
 not solemnized by a priest." 
 
 " Call this but the civil contract and explain it is to 
 get this unpleasant necessity for a Church of England 
 ceremony over with. You will surprise her into the 
 necessary step before she has time to listen to her 
 doubts and fears, and can afford, then, to wait for 
 priest's blessing before you shall claim her. I will 
 bring you a priest on my return from Baltimore." 
 
 "Suppose Ellen should be angry?" and I shud- 
 dered at the bare thought. 
 
 " What woman was ever made angry by the dar- 
 ing determination of the man she loves, to win her 
 at all hazards? If at first Ellen should seem angry, 
 be deeply grieved, and declare your intention to go 
 to Kentucky to join Clark, and fight the Indians. If
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 343 
 
 she loves you, as she does, she will never consent to 
 that." 
 
 Buford's suggestion appeared more and more 
 feasible as my mind dallied with the tempting pros- 
 pect. In the end three licenses were procured. 
 Thomas, who acted for Ellen, swore profound se- 
 crecy, and I rode home with the folded paper on 
 which hung my destiny feeling warm against my 
 beating heart. The more I contemplated the rash- 
 ness of my deed, next day, the more I feared Ellen's 
 displeasure. When evening came, I was still in a 
 state of excitement that seemed to key all my fac- 
 ulties to a higher pitch. 
 
 An Indian summer's day had been followed by a 
 calm but buoyant night. The sky, unflecked by light- 
 est cloud, sparkled overhead, an arch of congealed 
 azure, amidst which the big bright moon shone with 
 such radiant resplendence that the stars were quite 
 outdone and gleamed almost apologetically, as if 
 aware that this was not their hour. As the sky 
 dipped down to meet the mountains, lifting their 
 purple bulk in soft but distinct undulation, the 
 sparkling blue melted to a fathomless, almost color- 
 less mist, which cast over the dark blue range a 
 mysterious reflection, exaggerating its bulk, its mys- 
 tery, and its silence. 
 
 The night, I thought, was like Ellen, exhilarating, 
 joy-giving, yet serious and thought-compelling its 
 beauty and sweetness far removed from the beauty 
 and sweetness of common things, by a silent sugges- 
 tion of unfathomed depths. I found her alone on 
 the porch, a white shawl so draped about her that 
 once again she looked as she did that night at the
 
 344 DONALD McELROY 
 
 spring, when she was yet a child, like a spirit from 
 some purer world. 
 
 " Ellen," I began, dropping down on the step 
 below her, and compelling her dream-held eyes to 
 recognize mine, " have I kept high carnival in my 
 heart these last three days for naught, or are you 
 but playing with my hopes? Surely, Ellen, promise 
 is but delayed fulfillment." 
 
 " Has it made you very happy the hope? " she 
 asked, her tones soft and dreamy, like the far-away 
 notes of a violin. " You are 'very sure that you will 
 always be entirely content with me ? The pleadings 
 of my own heart, Donald, I might have resisted, but 
 to bring you happiness, to bless and crown your life, 
 as you say I alone can to resist that temptation, 
 Donald, was beyond my soul's strength. I may 
 have been hard to win, dear, but your conquest is 
 complete." 
 
 My right arm clasped her, and her head sank to 
 my breast, as a bird into its nest, and rested there as 
 quietly. 
 
 "Then you will grant my request, Ellen?" my 
 heart throbbing tremulously. " Say you will ! 
 Even before I make it, that will be the sealing sign 
 of your love and confidence." 
 
 " You could ask nothing I would refuse." 
 
 " Then marry me to-morrow, mavourneen ! " and 
 before she could answer, I dropped softly upon her 
 lips the first kiss I had ever dared to claim. 
 
 "To-morrow, Donald?" she questioned, with 
 more of curiosity than anger or even surprise; " how 
 could that be? But it shall be soon, dear, almost 
 as soon as you could ask."
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 345 
 
 Then I explained all, and told her how I had 
 dreaded her anger, and yet felt that I could endure 
 suspense no longer, but must somehow force her to 
 make me the very happiest or most miserable of 
 men. 
 
 " And you will wait for priest's blessing on our 
 union, before you claim me, Donald you have 
 thought fully about it? " 
 
 " When you come to my home, Ellen, it shall be 
 with the full and glad consent of your whole heart. 
 This marriage to-morrow will be no more than the 
 publishing of our banns, after all, but I shall be sure 
 of you then; my heart will be at rest, and this annoy- 
 ing necessity for a Church of England ceremony will 
 be done with. Our real marriage will be wholly a 
 dear and solemn rite." 
 
 " Do you know, dear Donald," said Ellen, after a 
 long silence while her heart beat against mine, " I am 
 very glad it is all settled at last, that after to-morrow 
 I shall have no right to question my soul, or even to 
 pray for further guidance? Once I am your wife, 
 dear, I shall give all my thoughts and prayers to 
 wifely duty. Do not fear I shall still try your pa- 
 tient soul with doubts and regrets." 
 
 " I fear nothing, dear one, now that we are one. 
 Do you know, mavourneen, that you can have no 
 feeling, no thought, hereafter, that I shall not share, 
 and that I shall experience no emotion you will not 
 feel? Awful mystery, yet precious reality, this 
 merging of two spirits into one ! " 
 
 My eyes had turned from time to time to rest in 
 rapt thankfulness upon sky and mountain; but now, 
 suddenly, I was aware that the haunting mystery,
 
 346 DONALD McELROY 
 
 lately brooding over the horizon, was gone, and in 
 its place only a perfect peace beyond which the shin- 
 ing circle of the moon, climbing higher and higher 
 in the azure dome, gave promise of joys beyond, infi- 
 nite and eternal.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 Impatiently our household awaited Buford's re- 
 turn. Jean, his bride of two days, bore his absence, 
 and the suspense of his still unsettled fate, with more 
 fortitude than I the weary waiting for the coming of 
 the priest, whose blessing was to give me my own 
 my Ellen. Each day, as I watched her minister 
 more and more tenderly to Aunt Martha, who was 
 slowly dying, and had now and then rare hours of 
 confidential intercourse with her, my love, which I 
 had thought already great beyond power of increase, 
 grew and deepened, till every plan and aspiration 
 centered around her, every thought and emotion was 
 inspired by the glad consciousness of our mutual 
 love. 
 
 Thomas and Nelly would not start to Kentucky 
 while their mother lived, nor until after Buford's 
 fate was settled. 
 
 There was much hot, foolish talk of banishing 
 Tories, and the English government had been or- 
 dered to convey them to England. Through the 
 strong influence which General Morgan and myself 
 had been able to enlist for Buford, however, we 
 hoped to procure for him, at least, a pardon. Both 
 households lived on week after week in anxious sus- 
 pense, made endurable by the love which brightened 
 the lagging hours.
 
 348 DONALD McELROY 
 
 Meantime Ellen's home was building, planned as 
 to its larger outlines after my vision, but in all details 
 modeled to meet Ellen's tastes and wishes. When- 
 ever the weather permitted, and it was possible for 
 her to leave Aunt Martha for even the new 
 daughter could not take Ellen's place acceptably at 
 the invalid's bedside we rode together to the green 
 knoll with its fair prospect, which our home was to 
 crown, to inspect with almost affectionate interest 
 each beam and brick, and to suggest, alter, and re- 
 plan to the bewilderment of the tolerant workmen. 
 Nevertheless the slow winter days dragged along, 
 and Buford's repeated delays and excuses wore my 
 patience to a thin edge as spring approached. Was 
 I to wait forever for my long withheld happiness? 
 
 Aunt Martha had been beyond all suffering for a 
 week, and Thomas and Nelly were almost deter- 
 mined to start to their waiting field of labor without 
 again seeing Buf ord, when he returned taking us 
 all by surprise at last. 
 
 But he brought no priest with him. " None 
 would come so far," he said, " in such unsettled 
 times." One indeed had been at first willing, but 
 could not get the requisite dispensation from his 
 superior. He, Buford, would be obliged to go back 
 at once to Philadelphia, but he could stand the sepa- 
 ration no longer and had returned for Jean. Why 
 not Ellen and I go with them, stop in Baltimore to 
 be married, and then go on to Philadelphia to help 
 him? With me to intercede, personally, for him, he 
 felt sure of obtaining not only pardon but the resto- 
 ration of his estates. 
 
 I took this disappointing news across the fields to
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 349 
 
 Ellen. Surely the fate of Tantalus was not much 
 worse than mine ! 
 
 " Yes, I'll go to Baltimore with you, Donald," 
 she said cheerily seeming so little disappointed 
 over this further delay that I was for the moment 
 hurt. " Indeed, if you can help your brother, it is 
 your duty to go. Moreover, I shall like a wedding 
 journey, and I have always wanted to go to Balti- 
 more and to Philadelphia." 
 
 That put a new phase on the matter. Since it 
 would give Ellen pleasure to take the journey, and 
 we would take it together, I could endure a few more 
 days of waiting. And a happy journey it was, in 
 our own four-horse post chaise, notwithstanding the 
 roads were muddy, and the March weather precari- 
 ous. Still more happy its ending. 
 
 Ellen and I were married in the Cathedral by the 
 solemn ceremony of the Catholic Church, with only 
 the priest's assistance the choir boys, and Jean 
 and Buford for witnesses. Afterwards Ellen went 
 into the confessional, while I waited alone for her 
 in the dimly lighted, reverence-inspiring edifice. She 
 joined me, presently, her face both tender and radi- 
 ant. 
 
 " The good Father, Donald," she whispered, slip- 
 ping a warm little hand into mine, " bade me obey 
 my husband, and follow my conscience in all things 
 even should that lead me into becoming a Protestant; 
 for I must not let my religion come between me and 
 my wifely duty, since marriage was a God appointed 
 sacrament. You must never again say, my husband, 
 that the Catholic faith is bigoted and superstitious." 
 
 " I trust I shall never say anything to wound my
 
 350 DONALD McELROY 
 
 dear wife," I answered; "all her principles and 
 feelings are sacred to me. As to her being a Prot- 
 estant, that she shall never be unless she truly wishes 
 it. As a loyal Catholic, I have learned to love her, 
 and if she is happier still to be one, I shall love her 
 none the less for that," and I kissed first the sweet, 
 earnest face upturned to mine, and then the tiny 
 jeweled cross which had been one of my gifts to her. 
 Three weeks later Buford's pardon had been ob- 
 tained, with a full restoration of his estates. He 
 would return to Philadelphia, occupy the family man- 
 sion, and resume his father's business, for which 
 indeed he had been destined and trained. But, first, 
 he must take Jean back to her mother, as he had 
 promised, and gain her consent to really giving up 
 her only daughter. Buford's supposed poverty, in- 
 deed, had been a strong argument in his favor with 
 my mother. If he had nothing, she argued, why 
 should they not settle down on the home place ? It 
 was big enough for all and then she and Jean would 
 never be separated. Buford's good fortune would 
 be, I feared, a sad blow to dear mother. But, then, 
 Ellen and I would live not far away, and she could 
 often visit us; while Jean affirmed that her mother 
 should spend part of each year in Philadelphia 
 for, after all, it was not much of a journey, with 
 good stage roads all the way. 
 
 This is the true story of a somewhat eventful life, 
 and I must e'en tell it as it happened. I cannot then 
 conclude it by saying that Ellen and I lived in perfect 
 happiness ever after. In truth we had our sorrows
 
 SCOTCH IRISHMAN 351 
 
 and disappointments, such sorrows and disappoint- 
 ments as are common to mortals even our differ- 
 ences at times. 
 
 Yet, looking back upon our united lives, I see that 
 they have been full and happy almost realizing 
 the radiant vision of my youth. 
 
 One of the incidents of it which gave us much 
 pleasure, was a visit, some years after our marriage, 
 from good Father Gibault. His love for Ellen and 
 hers for him was almost that of a real father and 
 daughter, and his interest in our children that of a 
 grandfather Especially did he take delight in the 
 manly blue-eyed son we had named for him. Before 
 he bade us farewell, to return to his beloved land of 
 Illinois, he absolved Ellen finally from her allegiance 
 to her old faith, bidding her, since her conscience 
 allowed it, be one in creed also with the husband to 
 whom she was fully united in life and purpose. 
 Though devoted priest of a faith, held bigoted by 
 some, he too believed that creeds are man made, and 
 that God lives not in doctrines, but in our hearts and 
 in our deeds. 
 
 THE END
 
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