Chapter IV: Part 4

"'I'm nae just free to say,' replied the stranger, thus rudely interrogated, with the true Scotch evasion.

"'Answer me at once,' returned the captain; 'which party do you favor?'

"'Ye might have the civility to give me a gentle hint which side ye belang to,' said Sawney.

"'No circumlocution,' rejoined the soldier, sternly. 'Inform me immediately: Are you a mercenary of the tyrant of England, or a friend to liberty? your life depends on your answer.'

"'Aweel, then,' said the Scotchman firmly, 'sin ye will have it, by my saul, I won't go to heaven with a lie in my mouth--I'm whig to the back-bone, ye carline; now do your warst, and be hanged till ye!'"

"He might still have been a foe," remarked Wilson. "He might have seen, from Edwards' language, that to be a whig was to ensure his safety."

"I cannot say whether the Scotchman was sincere or not," replied old Harmar. "The American captain was well pleased to discover a friend, when he had every reason to expect an enemy; and, after furnishing him with a pistol, and advising him to avoid the scouting parties of the enemy, by keeping in the wood, he again proceeded on his expedition. They soon reached a fork in the road: one branch led into the recesses of the wood, and the other lay still farther along the banks of the stream. On arriving at this spot, the captain, calling Lieutenant Brown a little distance from the troop, said, 'A few miles' ride will carry us to an encampment of a party of these tories. I wish to reconnoitre the position of the enemy, and shall take the road which leads into the wood, for that purpose, while you with the soldiers will ride on the other road, till you will arrive within sight of the enemy, and then return to this point, which shall be our place of rendezvous. In the meantime, I wish you to avoid coming to any engagement with the tories; but, in case you hear me fire two pistol shots, you may believe me to be in danger, and hasten to my relief.'

"To command was to be obeyed with Captain Edwards, and soon no sound was heard save the slow and regular tread of the horses of the soldiers under command of Lieutenant Brown "Captain Lewis, the partisan tory who had carried off Miss Williams, was an officer of some fame. Of English extraction, and bred in the principles of entire acquiescence in the orders of the British ministry, he beheld the struggles of the colonists with contempt. He saw the inhabitants rising about him in various parts of the country, with feelings of bitter hatred, and he determined to crush these evidences of rebellion in the outset. He accepted a captain's commission in the English army, and fought for a time under the banners of General Clinton, with success worthy of a better cause. But taking offence at some imperious order of his commander, he threw up his commission in disgust, and retired to his native village near the river Hudson. Here, collecting about him a few choice spirits like himself, he kept the inhabitants in a continual state of alarm by his plundering and rapacious conduct. Acting, as he pretended, under the orders of the king, the tories durst not oppose him, and the whigs were too few in numbers to resist his foraging excursions with any prospect of success.

"In his youth he had been a school companion of Captain Edwards, but their principles were widely dissimilar, and little intercourse had taken place between them. In after life they embraced different sides, and the tory disliked the whig for his virtues, and envied his good name. In one of his marauding expeditions he became acquainted with Miss Williams, and discovering the interest the republican had in her affections, he determined to get her into his power, for the purpose of holding a check on the whig officer, whom he equally feared and hated. A libertine in principle, and a profligate in practice, he scrupled at no means to attain his object, and a violent attack on the peaceful dwelling of a defenceless woman was as consonant with his views as robbing a hen-roost.

"The dwelling of this renegade was situated on a small hill on the bank of the river Hudson. His peculiar occupation, and the state of affairs in the country, had rendered it necessary for him to fortify and strengthen his house, and, at the time referred to, it resembled, what in fact it was, the rendezvous of a band of lawless desperadoes.

"In the principal room of the building was the villain captain, with three of his officers, seated round a decayed table, playing cards; on one end of the table stood a dirty decanter, partly filled with apple brandy; three or four cracked, dingy tumblers were scattered over the table, and the rest of the furniture of the apartment was in keeping. In one corner of the room sat Miss Williams, apparently in the depth of wretchedness. She occasionally cast furtive glances at the captain, and then toward a small window, which was firmly barricaded; but seeing no prospect of escape, she relapsed again into hopeless sorrow. Groups of blackguard soldiers were seated on stools in different parts of the room, many of them following the example of their officers, and others amusing themselves with burnishing their muskets and equipments. After numerous potations from his bottle, the captain started up, reeling under the influence of the liquor, and addressing a ruffian-looking officer, one of his boon companions, said: "'Lieutenant Jocelyn, have the drum beat to arms, and take these lazy knaves and scour the woods for a few miles around, and cut down or make prisoner every rebel rascal you meet; leave soldiers enough, however, to guard the old castle; quick--blast me, no hesitation.'

"'Humph!' muttered the old soldier; 'ready enough to run his comrades into the noose, but devilish careful to keep his own delicate person out of danger.'

"'Ha! what say you, old grumbler? You shall stay here and guard the lady, if you are so much afraid of your beautiful self; and I will take command of the men.'

"The lieutenant liked this proposition still worse than the former, but seeing no alternative, obeyed in silence. In a short time, the captain, accompanied by about twenty men, including a sergeant and two corporals, left their camp and proceeded toward the wood. It was night-fall when they reached the forest, through which the road was very narrow and circuitous. They were travelling along the path in double files, when the sergeant in front ordered a halt.

"'Why do we stop here,' roared the captain, 'when it is as dark as Egypt?'

"'I hear a noise like the trampling of horses,' replied the sergeant.

"'Hist, then,' said Captain Lewis; 'draw up the men into a body, and await their arrival in silence.'

"'The horse's footsteps were now distinctly heard, but it was a solitary horseman whom these worthy soldiers were to encounter. When he arrived within speaking distance, the sergeant advanced a few paces in front of the soldiers, and exclaimed:

"'Stand! stand! or you are a dead man!'

"The horseman evinced no disposition to comply with this arbitrary requisition, but deliberately drew pistol from his holsters and endeavored to urge his horse through the ranks of his opponents. Captain Lewis now came to the front of his men, and ordered: "'Seize the bridle, and down with the rebel!'

"'Let no man lay a hand on me or my horse, as he values his life,' said the horseman in a determined tone, at the same time cocking his pistol.

"'The sergeant drew back a few yards, and discharged his carbine, but without effect; two soldiers grasped the horse by the head at the same instant. The horseman, seeing a struggle inevitable, literally blew out the brains of one of his assailants, and, plucking his other pistol from its holster with his left hand, he fired at and slightly wounded his second antagonist; he now threw aside his pistols, &c., and then drew his heavy broadsword, and essayed to cut his way through his opponents--but giant strength, combined with the most desperate courage, could not compete with such vast disparity of numbers; some of his enemies fastened themselves on his horse, while others thrust at him with their bayonets, and, after a protracted contest, during which the tories lost five men, the horseman was disarmed and brought to the ground.

"'Bind the rebel dog,' shouted the infuriated captain; 'he shall die the death of a felon, were he George Washington. By Heaven!' continued he, as he viewed the prostrate horseman, 'it is Captain Edwards! Are then my dearest wishes gratified? I will be doubly revenged! Bind him hand and foot, boys, and throw him across his own horse, if the beast can bear him; if not, drive a bullet through the horse's brains, and carry the soldier in your arms.'

"The whig officer was firmly bound and placed on his own charger, while a soldier marched on either side of him, and another led the horse. After prosecuting their route homeward near a mile, they were startled with 'No quarter to the cowardly tories! cut them down root and branch!' followed by the discharge of near a dozen pistols, which killed four men, and wounded two or three others; and in a moment they were nearly surrounded by the dragoons under command of Lieutenant Brown. For a short time the contest was maintained with vigor; the bonds of Captain Edwards were soon cut; he attacked the tory captain, sword in hand, and, after a short conflict, succeeded in wounding him in the sword-arm and hurling him to the ground, and placing his foot on his breast, he said:

"'Now, you dastardly ruffian, avow your villanies, and inform me where I shall find Miss Howard, or, by heaven, I will send you where the tenor of your life will be hard to account for.'

"The fierceness of the whig soldier's manner, and the consciousness of being wholly in his power, completely humbled the tory, and he begged his life, and promised to conduct the troops to his encampment, where they would find the lady in safety.

"The tories were now effectually routed; some were killed, some wounded, others captured, and some had escaped. A few miles' travel, and Captain Edwards and the men under his command arrived at the habitation of the tories. A coarse slovenly soldier was pacing the ground in front of the building, and, on the advance of the continental troops, presented his musket, and ordered them to halt. Captain Edwards briefly informed him of the reverse that had taken place in the fortunes of his commander, and concluded by telling him that 'Submission was safety--resistance death.'

"The door was now burst open, and in a moment Miss Williams was folded in the arms of her lover.

"Little more remains to be told. No entreaties of Captain Edwards, or persuasions of her aunt, could induce Miss Williams to give her hand to her admirer till the close of the war. On the establishment of peace, Colonel Edwards, (for he had received that rank,) was made happy in the possession of his long-tried affection. Lieutenant Brown served under his captain during the war, and, on the promotion of Captain Edwards, succeeded to his command. The tory Lewis, and the remainder of his guilty accomplices, were captured shortly after the occurrence of the events I have related, and executed for desertion."

"The tories generally received the worst of every encounter," remarked Higgins; "at least, so all our love-story tellers say." "What I have told you I know to be true--just as Bill Moore, who was one of Captain Edwards' men, used to tell it," replied old Harmar.

"I believe it to be a fact that the tories did get the worst of most of the encounters in which they had an equal number of our men to deal with. The reason was plain. They had not the same great motives to spur them to daring and noble effort; and the whigs fought against them with more ardor than they would against the British," said Wilson.

"Captain Edwards was a host. Just think of one man daring to resist the attack of twenty men, and killing five of them before he was taken. It seems like the deed of a fabulous hero," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"The case was a desperate one, and demanded desperate conduct. A surrender would not have saved his life, and might have secured Miss Williams in the hands of Lewis. By a bold attack, Edwards won new reputation and alarmed his men, who then saved his life and the honor of his beloved," said old Harmar, in defence of his hero.

"I expect they would have murdered the poor man, and then Lewis would have forced Miss Williams to become his wife--the wretch!" put in Mrs. Harmar.

"Nothing would have been too black for his heart, when he had an end in view. Such men are the most dangerous foes to their fellows, and we must rejoice when a just punishment overtakes them in their headstrong career. Many of those who are glorified as great men have possessed the same unscrupulous disposition. The only difference between them and Lewis lies in this--they fixed their minds on greater objects," said old Harmar.

"What's that for?" inquired Higgins, starting up as the sound of drum and fife broke on his ear. Mrs. Harmar went to the front window, and reported that a Volunteer company of soldiers was coming down the street. The old men instantly crowded round the window, and expressed their gratification at the sight that presented itself. The volunteers were neatly uniformed and very precisely drilled. They marched with the firm and uniform tread of regulars. The "ear-piercing fife and spirit-stirring drum" discoursed the music sweetest to the ears of the old warriors, and their eyes brightened and they made an effort to straighten themselves, as if "the old time came o'er them." They lingered at the window as long as they could catch the sound, and long after the volunteers had turned the corner of the street. Perhaps, if we had possessed sufficient mental insight, we might have been with those old men in the scenes that came back to their minds like a tide that had seemed to have ebbed away for ever. We might have been with them where the drum and fife were as strong drink to the warriors, firing their hearts and steeling their nerves for the bloody struggle. But we are left to conjecture what was present to their imaginations by what they express in conversation.

BATTLE OF GERMANTOWN.

"Those fellows look very neat and prim; they march well, and their muskets are polished very bright. I wonder how they would stand fire," said Higgins, after the party had seated themselves.

"I doubt if they would like it as well as parading the streets; but there may be some stout hearts among them," replied old Harmar.

"They should have been at Brandywine or Germantown. At either place they would have had a chance to prove their stuff. Fife and drum would have been necessary, I think, to stir them up," said Wilson.

"I paid a visit to Germantown, the other day," said Mr. Jackson Harmar. "I passed over the chief portion of the battle-ground, and examined Chew's house, where some of the British took refuge and managed to turn the fortunes of the day. The house is in a good state of preservation, and bears many marks of the conflict."

"I have seen it since the day of the battle, and have also walked over the neighboring grounds," said Smith "You are wrong in stating that the troops that threw themselves into that house turned the fortune of the day. Our defeat was the result of many unlooked-for circumstances, which no general could have been prepared to meet."

"I have always understood that the check received by our troops at Chew's house gave the enemy time to rally, and thus defeated Washington's plan," replied Mr. Jackson Harmar. "If it was otherwise, I should like to be informed of the circumstances."

"Oh, tell us about the battle of Germantown, Mr. Smith!" exclaimed Mrs. Harmar. She had some acquaintances at Germantown, and she wished to astound them by the extent of her information. "Father says he was not in the battle, being sick at the time. Besides, if he knew, he would never condescend to tell me about it, when he could find Jackson to talk to."

"Why, I'm sure, my child, you never seemed very anxious to know," replied old Harmar; "but if you will listen to Mr. Smith, you will know all about it. He was present during the whole battle."

"Ay; and did my share of the fighting, too," added Smith. "But I'll tell you how it was; and you, Mr. Harmar, may judge whether our defeat was owing in any degree to the exertions of the enemy. After General Howe took possession of Philadelphia, the main body of the British was encamped at Germantown. Our army lay at Skippack Creek, about sixteen miles from Germantown. Well, General Washington having received all the reinforcements he expected, and knowing that the enemy had been considerably weakened by sending detachments to take possession of the city and the ports on the river, determined to attempt to surprise them in their camp. The plan was formed with all the judgment and foresight we might expect in Washington. We were to march at night for Germantown. Wayne and Sullivan were to attack the left wing of the enemy in front, whilst Armstrong, with a body of militia, attacked it in the rear. Greene and Stephens were to attack the right wing in front, while Smallwood fell upon its rear. Then there was a strong reserve. Of course, I was with the Pennsylvania line, under Wayne's command. We started on the evening of the third of October. I shall never forget that night's march. It was very dark. We could scarcely see three feet from us; and, as we wished to move on so as not to be discovered by any of those who usually gave the enemy information, we carried very few lanthorns. The road, however, was well known, and we marched rapidly and surely. As we approached Germantown, we found an evidence that the enemy were aware of our vicinity, and Wayne determined to attack at once. Just at dawn of day, a party of Sullivan's troops attacked the picket at the end of the village, and our whole division rushed on as the picket was driven in. The surprise was complete. The enemy could not make a stand. They were broken and routed, and their tents and marquees burnt. We pushed on, took some prisoners, and drove the British from behind fences and houses where they had taken shelter.

"Six companies of a British regiment, under their lieutenant-colonel, being hard pressed by an advancing column, threw themselves into Chew's house, and, barricading the lower windows, opened a destructive fire from the cellars and upper windows. Our troops, finding their musketry made no impression, were in the act of dragging up their cannon to batter the walls, when a stratagem was attempted, which, however, failed of success. An officer galloped up from the house, and cried out, 'What are you about? You will fire on your own people.' The artillery opened, but, after fifteen or twenty rounds, the pieces were found to be of too small calibre to make a serious impression, and were withdrawn.

"A most daring attempt was then made to fire the building. Lieutenant-Colonel Laurens, aid-de-camp to the commander-in-chief, with a few volunteers, rushed up to the house under cover of the smoke, and applied a burning brand to the principal door, at the same time exchanging passes with his sword with the enemy on the inside. By almost a miracle, this gallant officer escaped unharmed, although his clothes were repeatedly torn by the enemy's shot. Another and equally daring attempt was made by Major White, aide-de-camp to General Sullivan, but without as fortunate a result. The major, while in the act of firing one of the cellar windows, was mortally wounded, and died soon after.

"Washington accompanied the leading division under Major-General Sullivan, and cheered his soldiers in their brilliant onset, as they drove the enemy from point to point. Arriving in the vicinity of Chew's house, the commander-in-chief halted to consult his officers as to the best course to be pursued towards this fortress that had so suddenly and unexpectedly sprung up in the way. The younger officers who were immediately attached to the person of the chief, and among the choicest spirits of the Revolution, including Hamilton, Reed, Pinckney, Laurens, and Lee, were for leaving Chew's house to itself, or of turning the siege into a blockade, by stationing in its vicinity a body of troops to watch the movements of the garrison, and pressing on with the column in pursuit of the flying enemy. But the sages of the army, at the head of whom was Major-General Knox, repulsed at once the idea of leaving a fortified enemy in the rear, as contrary to the usages of war and the most approved military authorities.

"At this period of the action the fog had become so dense that objects could scarcely be distinguished at a few yards' distance. We had penetrated the enemy's camp even to their second line, which was drawn up to receive us about the centre of Germantown. The ammunition of the right wing, including the Maryland brigades, became exhausted, the soldiers holding up their empty cartridge boxes, when their officers called on them to rally and face the enemy. The extended line of operations, which embraced nearly two miles, the unfavorable nature of the ground in the environs of Germantown for the operations of the troops, a large portion of whom were undisciplined, the ground being much cut up, and intersected by stone fences and enclosures of various sorts, the delay of the left wing under Greene in getting into action--all these causes, combined with an atmosphere so dense from fog and smoke as to make it impossible to distinguish friend from foe, produced a retreat in our army at the moment when victory seemed to be within its grasp.

"Washington was among the foremost in his endeavors to restore the fallen fortunes of the day, and, while exerting himself to rally his broken columns, the exposure of his person became so imminent, that his officers, after affectionately remonstrating with him in vain, seized the bridle of his horse. The retreat, under all circumstances, was quite as favorable as could be expected. The whole of the artillery was saved, and as many of the wounded as could be removed. The ninth Virginia regiment, under Colonel Mathews, having penetrated so far as to be without support, after a desperate resistance, surrendered its remnant of a hundred men, including its colonel, who had received several bayonet wounds. The British pursued but two or three miles, making prisoners of the worn-out soldiers, who, after a night-march of fifteen miles and an action of three hours, were found exhausted and asleep in the fields and along the road.

"I made a narrow escape from being taken by a party of dragoons. They were nearly upon a small body of us that had got separated from our division, before we perceived them. I gave the alarm, and we ran on, as we thought, toward our troops; but the fog was so thick that we mistook the way, and wandered about for some time in constant risk of being surrounded by the enemy. At length we stumbled on the main body of our line, and retreated with them. I never saw a more irritated and disappointed set of men than our officers on that day. Every one had a different cause for the repulse. Some said that Greene did not come up in time to aid Wayne and Sullivan; while others said that Greene had performed the most effective service during the engagement, and that the loss of the day was owing to the military prejudices of Knox and some others, who would halt to attack Chew's house, instead of following up the advantages already gained. Then the fog was blamed for the confusion it caused. The fact was, the defeat was owing to many causes combined, some of which I have mentioned."

"The attack was certainly skilfully planned and truly executed, in spite of its want of success," remarked old Harmar. "Your opinion of the causes of the defeat, Mr. Smith, is that which is now generally adopted. The halt at Chew's house did not give rise to the retreat of Sullivan's division. The ammunition of the troops was exhausted, and they were not aware of Greene's approach until they had begun to fall back. By the way, did you hear how General Nash was killed?"

"He was killed by a cannon-ball, I believe," replied Smith.

"Yes," said old Harmar. "A round-shot from the British artillery striking a sign-post in Germantown, glanced therefrom, and, passing through his horse, shattered the general's thigh on the opposite side. The fall of the animal hurled its unfortunate rider with considerable force to the ground. With surprising courage and presence of mind, General Nash, covering his wound with both of his hands, called to his men, 'Never mind me, I have had a devil of a tumble; rush on, my boys, rush on the enemy--I'll be after you presently.' He could do no more.

Faint from loss of blood and the intense agony of his wound, the sufferer was borne to a house hard by, and attended by Dr. Craik, by special order of the commander-in-chief. The doctor gave his patient but feeble hopes of recovery, even with the chances of amputation, when Nash observed, 'It may be considered unmanly to complain, but my agony is too great for human nature to bear. I am aware that my days, perhaps hours, are numbered, but I do not repine at my fate. I have fallen on the field of honor, while leading my brave Carolinians to the assault of the enemy. I have a last request to make of his Excellency, the commander-in-chief, that he will permit you, my dear doctor, to remain with me, to protect me while I live, and my remains from insult.' Dr. Craik assured the general that he had nothing to fear from the enemy; it was impossible that they would harm him while living, or offer insult to his remains; that Lord Cornwallis was by this time in the field, and that, under his auspices, a wounded soldier would be treated with humanity and respect. The dying patriot and hero then uttered these memorable words: 'I have no favors to expect from the enemy. I have been consistent in my principles and conduct since the commencement of the troubles. From the very first dawn of the Revolution I have ever been on the side of liberty and my country.' "He lingered in extreme torture between two and three days, and died admired by his enemies, admired and lamented by his companions in arms. On Thursday, the ninth of October, the whole American army was paraded by order of the commander-in-chief, to perform the funeral obsequies of General Nash."

"I have heard those who knew him best speak of him as a brave soldier and a noble-hearted man; and your account of his death assures me of the truth of their eulogy," remarked Smith.

"It is said that Washington, seeing that his well-arranged plan was about to be defeated, could not control his anger and disappointment," said Mr. Jackson Harmar.

"It is true. Washington, like all very great men, was naturally strongly passionate. His usual self-command was the more wonderful because it had been acquired by stern practice. The battle of Germantown was one of those few occasions in his life when his feelings burst through all restraint; and then, it is said by those who should know, that his wrath was fierce and terrible. The officers were compelled, by considerations of his safety, to lead his horse from the field. He did all that a man could do to rally his broken troops, and exposed himself as fearlessly as the bravest soldier. All his exertions were vain, however, and he became much irritated in consequence."

"The retreat just when victory was within his grasp was enough to irritate any commander who valued his aim and plan," observed Mr. Jackson Harmar, agreeing with Smith in the remarks which he had just made. "I suppose, if Washington had been completely successful at Germantown, the British would have been driven from Philadelphia," said Higgins.

"Ay; and from the vicinity of Philadelphia," replied Smith. "They could not have recovered from such a defeat."

BATTLE OF THE KEGS.

"Father," said Mr. Jackson Harmar, "I have a song in my portfolio, written by Francis Hopkinson while the British were in Philadelphia; perhaps you can tell us something about the event which is the subject of it. Here it is. It is called 'The Battle of the Kegs.'"

"The Battle of the Kegs! That I can, my boy. But read the song," replied old Harmar. His son then read the following facetious ditty:

"Gallants, attend, and hear a friend
Trill forth harmonious ditty:
Strange things I'll tell, which late befell
In Philadelphia city.

Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on log of wood,
And saw a sight surprising.

As, in amaze, he stood to gaze,--
The truth can't be denied, sirs,--
He spied a score--of kegs, or more,
Come floating down the tide, sirs.
A sailor, too, in jerkin blue,
The strange appearance viewing,
First damn'd his eyes, in great surprise,
Then said, 'Some mischief's brewing.

These kegs now hold the rebels bold,
Pack'd up like pickled herrings
And they're come down to attack the town,
In this new way of ferrying.'

The soldier flew, the sailor, too,
And, scared almost to death, sirs,
Wore out their shoes to spread the news,
And ran till out of breath, sirs.

Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted;
And some ran here, and some ran there,
Like men almost distracted.

Some fire cried, which some denied,
But said the earth had quakèd;
And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
Ran through the town half-naked.

Sir William he, snug as a flea,
Lay all this time a snoring,
Nor dream'd of harm, as he lay warm,
While all without was roaring.

Now, in affright, he starts upright,
Awaked by such a clatter:
He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries,
'For God's sake, what's the matter?'
At his bedside he then espied
Sir Erskine at command, sirs;
Upon one foot he had one boot,
And t'other in his hand, sirs.

'Arise! arise!' Sir Erskine cries:
'The rebels--more's the pity--
Without a boat, are all afloat,
And ranged before the city.

'The motley crew, in vessels new,
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Pack'd up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Come driving down the tide, sir.

'Therefore prepare for bloody war!
These kegs must all be routed;
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted.'

The royal band now ready stand,
All ranged in dread array, sirs;
With stomach stout, to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sirs.

The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;
Since wars began, I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.

The rebel vales, the rebel dales,
With rebel trees surrounded,
The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.
The fish below swam to and fro,
Attack'd from every quarter:
Why, sure, thought they, the devil's to pay
'Mongst folks above the water.

The kegs, 'tis said, though strongly made,
Of rebel staves and hoops, sirs,
Could not oppose their powerful foes,
The conquering British troops, sirs.

From morn to night, these men of might
Display'd amazing courage;
And when the sun was fairly down,
Retired to sup their porridge.

A hundred men, with each a pen,
Or more--upon my word, sirs,
It is most true--would be too few
Their valor to record, sirs.

Such feats did they perform that day
Upon these wicked kegs, sirs,
That years to come, if they get home,
They'll make their boasts and brags, sirs."

"Ha! ha! that's a good thing. The enemy used to be so fond of the word 'rebel' that they would attach it to the most trifling things, when speaking of our people. Judge Hopkinson ridicules that in fine style," remarked old Harmar.

"It ought to be sung to the tune of the 'Hoosier's Ghost,'" said Wilson.

"Who is the Sir Erskine alluded to in the song?" inquired Mrs. Harmar. "Sir William Erskine, one of Sir William Howe's officers," replied old Harmar. "This song created much merriment among the whigs at the time it was written, so that, however much the enemy were right, we had the laugh on our side."

"But what were the circumstances which gave rise to it?" inquired Mr. Jackson Harmar, impatiently.

"I was about to tell you," replied his father. "A Mr. David Bushnell had invented several ingenious articles of submarine machinery, for the purpose of destroying the British vessels stationed in the Delaware. Among these was the American torpedo, a machine shaped like a water tortoise, and managed by a single person. It contained sufficient air to support respiration thirty minutes without being replenished, valves to admit or reject water for the purpose of rising or sinking, ballast to keep it upright, and a seat for the operator. Above the rudder was a place for carrying a large powder magazine, constructed from two pieces of oak timber, and capable of carrying one hundred and fifty pounds of powder, with the apparatus for firing it. Within the magazine was an apparatus constructed to run any proposed length of time under twelve hours, after which it sprung a strong lock similar to that of a gun, which gave fire to the powder. This apparatus was so secured that it could be set in motion only by the casting off of the magazine from the vessel.

"With this machine a skilful operator could swim so low on the surface of the water, as to approach at night very near to a ship without being discovered. After sinking quickly, he could keep at any necessary depth, and row to a great distance in any direction, without coming to the surface. Bushnell found, however, that much trial and instruction were required for a man of common ingenuity to become a skilful manager. It was first tried by his brother, who, unfortunately, was taken ill at the time when he had become an able operator. Another person was procured, and the first experiment tried upon the Eagle, a sixty-four, which Lord Howe commanded in person. He went under the ship, and attempted to fix the wooden screw into her bottom, but struck, as was supposed, a bar of iron running from the rudder-hinge. Not being well skilled in the management of the machine, he lost the ship in attempting to move to another place; and, after seeking her in vain for some time, rowed a little distance and rose to the surface. Daylight had now advanced so that the attempt could not be renewed, and, fearing he was discovered, he detached the magazine from his vessel and escaped. In an hour the powder exploded, throwing a vast column of water to an amazing height, and leaving the enemy to conjecture whether it was caused by a bomb, a water-spout, or an earthquake. Want of resources obliged Mr. Bushnell to abandon his schemes for that time; but, in 1777, he made an attempt from a whale-boat against the Cerberus frigate, by drawing a machine against her side with a line. It accidentally became attached to a schooner and exploded, tearing the vessel in pieces. Three men were killed, and one dangerously wounded.

"In December, 1777, Mr. Bushnell contrived another ingenious expedient for accomplishing his favorite object. He charged a number of kegs with powder, arranging them so as to explode on coming in contact with anything while floating along the tide. This squadron was launched at night on the Delaware river, above the English shipping; but, unfortunately, the proper distance could not be well ascertained, and they were set adrift too far from the vessels, so that they became obstructed and dispersed by the floating ice. On the following day, however, one of them blew up a boat, and others exploded, occasioning the greatest consternation among the British seamen. The troops were aroused, and, with the sailors, manned the wharves and shipping at Philadelphia, discharging their cannon and small-arms at everything they could see floating in the river during the ebb tide.

"The scene must have been a very ridiculous one, and we cannot wonder at Judge Hopkinson making such comic use of it. The British must have imagined that every keg was the visible part of a torpedo, intended for their destruction."

"We cannot wonder at their consternation, while in constant danger of being blown into the air," said Mr. Jackson Harmar. "Just place yourself in their position; and, knowing that several attempts had been made to blow up the ships, how would you have acted?"

"I should have made quite as much noise, I suppose," replied old Harmar; "but then it was so laughable. I don't think the folks aboard of those ships slept for a week after finding that there was powder in the kegs. That, I believe, was Bushnell's last attempt to destroy the fleet."

"For my part," remarked Wilson, "I never liked such contrivances; and it is a very pregnant fact that in most cases they have failed, when, from the skill and science displayed in their construction, success was anticipated. It's my opinion, God works against such things. As much as I hated the enemy, I could not sanction such wholesale murder--for murder it would have been, to have sent hundreds of men into eternity, without giving them an inch of fair fighting ground. I would not have minded blowing up the British government--that I could have done myself without any more sting of conscience than the hangman feels; but soldiers and seamen fight fairly and openly for their country's honor and rights, as they understand those things, and they should be met in the same manner."

"You're right, Mr. Wilson. Torpedoes, catamarans, and such inventions, might be employed by both parties in war, and with destructive effect. But wars ought to be conducted in such a manner as to gain the desired end with as little loss of life as possible; besides, in the eyes of all really brave men, these things must seem cowardly," said Morton.

"You must permit me to differ with you, gentlemen," put in Mr. Jackson Harmar; and, in a very dignified, Congressional style, he delivered himself of the following defence of the innovations of modern warfare: "I view all such contrivances as the triumph of the genius and skill of man over mere brute force, and as tending to the great ends of the peace and happiness of mankind. They place the weak upon a level with the strong, and make it evident to every one that the best course would be to submit all questions of right to the arbitration of the mind instead of the arm and sword. Suppose I, being a small, weak man, should quarrel with a man of great physical strength, and a hatred to the death should be declared between us. Now, upon whichever side the bone of right lay, the strong man would have the power to destroy me; but if I set my brain to work, and contrive an 'infernal machine,' I shall be superior to him, and drive him to the same resource. Now, we both see by this, that we stand an even chance of being destroyed, and reason resumes her reign. We see that the wisest and safest course for both would be to submit the question involved in the quarrel to the judgment of a mutual and impartial friend. Even so these inventions operate among nations, which, by the way, should be ruled by the same general principles as individuals."

"That's all very true," remarked Wilson. "But if I was about to fight a duel with a man, and I stood up, pistol in hand, while he stood off beyond my reach, and with some infernal invention endeavored to kill me, I should call him a coward."

"That would not settle the dispute," said Mr. Jackson Harmar. "Your wisest course would be to equal his invention, and compel him to fight fairly or make peace."

ARNOLD'S TREASON.

"Many strange and many laughable public events occurred in Philadelphia during the Revolution," said old Harmar. "I was with the army during the greater part of the time, but our family remained in the city, and kept me advised of everything that was going on. I was engaged to be married to your mother, Jackson, before the war commenced, and I had to leave her in Philadelphia also, until the war was over. She used to write me letters, telling me about everything that passed in the city that was interesting. I recollect in one letter she gave me an account of how the news of Arnold's treason was received among the people."

"With blessings on the traitor's head, of course," remarked Wilson, ironically.

"I could imagine how it was received," said Mr. Jackson Harmar. "The people were indignant and cursed the traitor."

"The people of Philadelphia knew Arnold's real character," replied old Harmar. "They knew, from his residence among them, that he was capable of selling his soul for gold, glory, and pleasure; but they did not suspect him of any intention of leaving our cause entirely. They thought he would see that it was for his interest to stand by his country's rights. While in command in this city, Arnold had been very intimate with several wealthy tory families, and I believe had married a lady who was connected with them. But such an intimacy was not sufficient to justify suspicions of his patriotism, if it had not been joined with other circumstances. He gave great entertainments at his house, and lived as if he was worth a mint of money. Then he was always in trouble with the committees of Congress about money matters, which made people generally believe that he cared more for gold than he did for principles. Well, when the news of his discovered treachery reached Philadelphia, the men with whom he had been wrangling about money said they knew it would turn out just so, and they never expected anything else; and the citizens generally were very indignant. They chose some laughable ways of showing the state of their feelings. An artist constructed a stuffed figure of the traitor, as large as life, and seated him in a cart, with a figure of the devil alongside of him, holding a lantern so as to show his face to the people. The words, 'Benedict Arnold, the Traitor,' were placed on a board over the head of the first figure. An evening was appointed for the display, and the hanging and burning of the effigy. A vast procession was formed, with the cart at the head, and drums and fife playing the Rogues' March. This paraded the streets of the city during the whole evening. The people groaned and hissed, and pelted the figures as they passed. At length the procession reached a common which had been selected for the purpose, and on which a gallows had been erected. There the effigy was hung, and then taken down and burnt. In the fire, the figure of old Nick was arranged with one hand upon Arnold's head, and the other pointing below, while he grinned as if over a triumph."

"An appropriate ceremony," said Wilson.

"It must have been a great sight," observed Mrs. Harmar.

"They should have caught the man himself, and burnt him instead of a stuffed figure," said Higgins.

"It would have saved Andre," remarked Smith.

"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Morton. "He ought to have been put to death with all the torture the Indians use with their captives."

These slight remarks indicated the peculiar manner in which each of these individuals viewed a subject.

"The British generals expected that Arnold's example would be followed by numbers of the Americans; but I think they soon saw the character of the people, and the way they regarded Arnold," said old Harmar.

"It's my opinion that Arnold's going over to the enemy was a benefit to our cause," remarked Smith. "Such men are stains upon the character of the people with whom they associate; and if a selfish, sensual traitor was fit company for Sir Henry Clinton and his officers, he was not for Washington and the other generals of our army." "Some of our people thought that he would prove a dangerous foe; but, after the attack on New London, all his activity and bravery seem to have fallen asleep. We had many men who could have met and defeated him, with anything like equal force. We did not lose much by his treachery, and the British lost Andre, who would have outweighed many Arnolds," said Morton.

"But treason found its reward," observed Mr. Jackson Harmar. "If Arnold had an atom of conscience or sensibility to shame, the curses of a whole people, whom he had turned from admiring friends to bitter foes, and the jeers and scorn of those whom he wished to make friends, must have planted many a thorn in his bosom, to rankle and poison his life."

"If he had any conscience?" remarked Morton, with an unbelieving smile.

"The people of Philadelphia showed that they had the true patriotic spirit in them, in burning that effigy of Arnold," said Mr. Jackson Harmar; "and taught the enemy that, though they might buy one man, they could not hire a people to follow wrong example."

CAPTURE OF GENERAL PRESCOTT.

"Well, leaving Arnold to the execration of all patriotic and pure-souled men," remarked Mr. Jackson Harmar, assuming the post of pilot to the conversation, "there is an exploit of the Revolution which always struck me as being one of the most daring and perilous to be found in the annals of war. I mean the capture of Major-General Prescott by Major Barton. If either of you, gentlemen, know the circumstances of that affair, I would be obliged to you for your information."

"I don't know as much about it as you may obtain from history," replied old Harmar, speaking for himself. "Our line was in another neighborhood."

"I should suppose Mr. Morton was acquainted with the facts, as he was up in that part of the country about that time," observed Wilson.

"I was; and do know all that one engaged in the expedition might tell me," replied Morton. "Furthermore, I have no objection to communicating my information.--I would thank you for a glass of water, Mrs. Harmar." The water was handed to the old man, and, after a refreshing draught, he proceeded with his narrative.

"You must know, that in the latter part of 1771 General Charles Lee was surprised and taken prisoner by a detachment of British troops. This was the result of his own carelessness. The British chuckled over his capture, saying that they had caught the American palladium, as if Lee was at all necessary to the success of our cause. However, the Americans considered him a valuable officer, and Major William Barton, of the Rhode Island line, resolved upon retaking him or procuring his exchange.

"Some months elapsed, after the capture of General Lee, before an opportunity offered of effecting the object which Major Barton had in view. In the month following that of the capture, the enemy took possession of the islands of Rhode-Island, Canonicut, and Prudence. Major Barton was then stationed at Tiverton, and for some months anxiously watched the motions of the enemy, with but feeble prospect of obtaining the opportunity he desired.

"At length, on the 20th June, 1777, a man by the name of Coffin, who made his escape from the British, was seized by some of the American troops, and carried to Major Barton's quarters. Major Barton availed himself of the opportunity to inquire respecting the disposition of the British forces. Coffin on examination, stated that Major-General Richard Prescott had established his head-quarters on the west side of Rhode-Island, and described minutely the situation of the house in which he resided, which he said was owned by a Mr. Pering. His account was a few days after confirmed by a deserter from the ranks of the enemy. Major Barton was now confirmed in his belief of the practicability of effecting his favorite object:--but serious obstacles were first to be encountered and removed. Neither his troops, nor their commander, had been long inured to service; and the intended enterprise was of a nature as novel as it was hazardous. Besides, Major Barton was aware that the undertaking, should it prove unsuccessful, would be pronounced rash and unadvised, and, in its consequences, though his life might be preserved, be followed by degradation and disgrace. Moreover, to involve in the consequences of an enterprise, devised and undertaken without previous consultation with his superiors in rank, the interest and perhaps the lives of a portion of his brave countrymen, was a subject that excited reflections calculated to damp the ardor and appall the courage of the bravest minds. Still, however, upon mature reflection, aided by a consciousness that its only motive was the interest of his country, he resolved to hazard his reputation and his life in the attempt.