University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

After undergoing a thorough search without anything
being discovered which could throw light on
their mission, the two prisoners were conducted under
guard to the city. As they passed along, the
island presented a melancholy picture of neglect and
desolation. The fields and gardens were without
fences, and without cultivation; the woods had been
all cut down to supply the enemy with fuel, and many
of the houses deserted. Every object indicated, that
the few remaining inhabitants neither sat down under
their own vine and their own fig-tree, nor enjoyed
unmolested the fruits of their labours. A stern enemy
lorded it over the land, and no one could call that
his own, which he had earned by the sweat of his
brow, or inherited from his fathers.

As they entered the subjugated city, which John
well remembered as the abode of competence and
peace, he was struck with the sad contrast it now
presented. Many of the inhabitants had left it, on
being taken possession of by the enemy, and of those

that remained, but few became reconciled to their
new masters, who neither sought to conciliate their
love, or to disguise that haughty contempt with which
the conqueror almost always looks down on a subjugated
people. Citizens and soldiers, even of the same
country, scarcely ever associate cordially together,
though the latter appear in the character of protectors
and defenders; but when, on the contrary, they
come as conquerors and oppressors, nothing can be
expected but injuries and insults on one hand; on the
other, hatred and revenge. The conspicuous red coats
everywhere appeared, swaggering through the streets
with an air of superiority that was in itself a perpetual
insult; and to complete the picture, a large portion
of the city lay in ruins, having not yet recovered from
the effects of the great fire, that took place soon after
it fell into the hands of the enemy.

Passing down Broadway, the prisoners at length arrived
at the head-quarters of Sir Henry Clinton, at
the Battery. They had been prevented from all communication
with each other, and were separately
brought before the general, who was attended by
some of his principal officers. The examination was
long, and every art and every threat was used to entrap
them into a discovery or extort confession. But
all these efforts failed, for both were sustained by
equal firmness and self-possession. When asked
whether he belonged to the rebel army, he replied,
that he was one among three millions of people who
were struggling for their rights, and that if a whole
nation could be called rebels, he certainly was one.
When charged with being a spy, he denied it, respectfully,

but firmly. He acknowledged that he came for
the purpose of seeking information as to the condition
of the British forces and their probable destination,
but having never come within their lines, until brought
there a prisoner, he could not be called a spy, and
therefore claimed the rights due to a captive in war.
As to his meeting with the person with whom he had
been found, whom he had never seen before, and from
whom he had derived no information, he conceived, as
they had no right to inquire, he was not bound to answer.
He was found where he had a right to be, and
had a right to wear what clothes he pleased.

His companion was more closely questioned, for his
conduct had been still more suspicious than that of
our hero, and the commander-in-chief had more than
once had occasion to suspect that his contemplated
movements had been betrayed in a manner for which
he could not account. But every attempt to entrap
the stranger was met or evaded with such consummate
art and address, that nothing could be got out
of him which could possibly commit himself or his associate.
Without a single falsehood on his part, he so
managed, that John could corroborate his statements
without any breach of veracity, and the general could
find no other charge substantiated against him, but
that of having left the city at night in defiance of general
orders; and this, he being merely a citizen, was
not an offence of such magnitude as to call for the exercise
of the utmost severity of military law. He
was finally committed to the custody of the provost-marshal,
and, with his companion, separately confined
in the old sugar-house, in what is now called Liberty-street,

there to undergo the discipline of the immortal
Cunningham, that petty tyrant, whose name is forever
associated with all that is odious and contemptible in
man. Thus they escaped a sudden death, for a lingering
series of privations of every kind, accompanied
by insults which gave new aggravations of mind to
their bodily sufferings. Having now accommodated
our hero with board and lodging, we shall turn our attention
to another quarter.

After the departure of John, his mistress remained
in the usual state of young damsels in love, during the
lingering hours of absence, only that her situation
was more than usually trying. Solitude is the nurse
of the heart, and all its most tender recollections,
and Jane lived alone, in a sequestered, almost deserted
region, which afforded not even the material
for a flirtation, for there was nothing in the shape of
a rustic Lubin, or sentimental schoolmaster, in twenty
miles round. It was, therefore, a matter of absolute
necessity, that she should be constant to one object,
and constancy is an unnatural state of mind, a sort of
monomania, inconsistent with all the analogies of nature
and the world, which exhibit nothing but a perpetual
succession of changes. She had neither balls,
nor concerts, nor lectures, nor soirees, nor any gay associations
to dissipate her mind, or charm her heart
away from one single contemplation; and even the
church, that never-failing resource of rural lads and
lasses, was now without its pastor and its flock. Her
only companion at the fireside, was a whimsical and
somewhat testy old continental; her only associates
abroad, were the birds, the blossoms, and the running

brooks; and her only occupation, was the easy cares
of a quiet household. The library of the colonel afforded
little resource, consisting, as it did, principally,
of a couple of folio volumes, a century old, in
which were concentrated all the discoveries and inventions,
good, bad, or indifferent, with which the
pack-horse world had been saddled since the days of
Archimedes, or Tubal Cain, for aught we know to the
contrary, by visionary enthusiasts, cheating rogues,
and profound philosophers. It was a perfect mine of
inexhaustible treasures, and the colonel was in the
habit of asserting, with what truth we know not, that
nearly all the new discoveries in science or art, within
his time, were nothing more than old broken-down
hobby-horses, that had been tried and abandoned long
years ago. There was, however, no invention for
shortening the long, lingering hours of absence, or
bringing together two distant lovers, and for that
reason Jane never opened these precious depositories,
from whence, the colonel affirmed, were stolen all
modern inventions except his own.

Thus she continued a long while, without having
any news of John, for the post never passed in that
direction, nor did the newspapers circulate among the
depths of the forests, whereby, as it is credibly asserted,
the very squirrels and coons have of late become
almost as wise as their hunters. Nay, it is affirmed,
there is no crow so silly as to be circumvented by a
fox, and that no trap, however scientifically devised,
can inveigle a rat or mouse of ordinary sagacity,
even by the aid of toasted cheese, or broiled bacon.
It is, indeed, the age of development, and if the human

intellect does not burst by its own expansion, like
the frog in the fable, there is great reason to hope we
shall in good time become as wise as our grandmothers.
The only thing to be apprehended, is, that
knowledge, by the aid of cheap literature, will become
universal; in which case, it will depreciate in value
as fast as continental money. When all mankind are
wise, and all pebbles become diamonds, it will, belike,
be all one, as though all wise men were fools, and all
diamonds pebbles.

There was, however, no danger of Jane ever becoming
wise, for she lived previous to, or just at the
dawning of the age of development, before the revival
of phrenology and animal magnetism, and consequently
friend John was a lucky stripling. There was
not a circulating library, we believe, within the distance
of three thousand miles, and how Jane learned
to love without drinking at that fountain, is a mystery
only to be solved by Dame Nature. Thus was our
unfortunate heroine utterly destitute of all those resources
against the monopoly of the heart, which are
now within reach of our kitchen-maids. She had nothing
to do, but mind her business and think of John.

Thus passed her time, and thus it might have continued
to pass, had not the jade, Rumour, taken upon
herself the office of mails and newspapers, and blown
her trumpet, to the infinite disturbance of that monotonous
calm into which Jane had gradually subsided.
No one could tell where the news came from, or who
first bruited it abroad; but so it was, that the colonel,
having stopped at a blacksmith's shop on one of his
excursions, was told of the sudden disappearance of

our hero from the army in the Highlands—of his being
seen in the disguise of a beggar, with a red wig, at the
village before noticed—and of his never having been
seen or heard of since that time. The general impression
of the army, it was said, was, that he had deserted
to the enemy, and that his disguise had been assumed
for that purpose. By way of a secret, we will
apprise the reader that the news first came from
Mangham, the pedlar, who had been in the Highlands
on a speculation, and passed, a few days before, on
his way to New York, or its neighbourhood, to replenish
his pack. It was a great mystery, but certain
it is, the pedlar was a sort of privileged person, and,
like the ancient heralds, had free admission everywhere,
though we never heard that his person or his
function was considered sacred.

The old continental was one of those vessels which,
whenever they are full, overflow incontinently for want
of the self-balancing principle. A secret that was
painful or disagreeable to his own feelings, very soon
escaped, like a locust from its shell, and accordingly
the moment he saw his daughter on his return home,
he began to launch his thunderbolts at John. Jane,
of course, eagerly inquired what he meant, and received
the news of her lover's supposed delinquency with mingled
doubt, indignation, and sorrow. Every day, however,
brought new confirmation; and, in the meantime,
hearing nothing from our hero, she was compelled to
believe all that she heard from others was true. No
one can tell what might have been the consequence
of this conviction of his unworthiness, had not the
vision of the beggar and his red wig, ever and anon

crossed her imagination, and thus, in some degree, superseded
the image of her recreant swain. She
thought how ugly he must have looked, the degenerate
wretch! thus to present himself to the red coats
in such an ignominious disguise! What would they
think of her taste, thus to fall in love with such a
fright? There is no danger of young maidens dying
for love, when their minds are occupied by two objects
at a time, such as a handsome young fellow, with
blue eyes, and chestnut hair, and a ragged tatterdemalion
in a red wig. But when a single object or impression
becomes indelibly impressed on the heart, to
the exclusion of all others; when it plays the tyrant
alone and absolute, then it is that the fatal poison
works without its antidote, and that its venom becomes
fatal. It was fortunate, therefore, for our heroine,
that there was a certain confused intermixture
in her recollection or imagination, of a ragged beggar
and a handsome youth, which prevented her constantly
dwelling on the latter. She was thus enabled to
bear up against the first shock; and when, by degrees,
the image of her lover, such as she alone remembered
to have seen him, took once again full possession of
her recollection, time had assuaged the first bitterness
of sorrow, and contempt and indignation enabled her
to bear what remained. True, the laughing eye, the
ruddy cheek, the smile of careless hilarity, the look of
cheerful hope, the tripping step, and all the elastic
spirit of youth, had given place to a pale and sad sobriety.
Still, she did not abandon herself to grief, nor
forget for a moment, that, in pouring the balm of consolation
into the hearts of others, she was applying
the most effectual remedy to her own.

The old continental, we are compelled to say, behaved
very ill on this occasion. Instead of sympathizing
with the stricken deer, he often assisted in
barbing the dart already rankling in her bosom. There
are some persons, who, not being capable of lasting
impressions of sorrow, always feel impatient at the
very sight of continued grief or depression on the part
of others, and instead of sympathy, resort to reproaches.
It was thus with the colonel, who could not endure to
see his child so changed, nor could he sympathize with
the cause. His usual resource was rather to outrage
the feelings of his child by anger, than sooth them by
pity. He could not bear to see her so changed, nor
could he participate in her depression. The old gentleman,
accordingly, vented his spleen in divers sneers,
inuendoes, and reproaches, occasionally not a little
aggravated by the failure of some one of his favourite
inventions. As he could not revenge himself on his
contrivances, he fell into a passion with poor Jane;
for nothing is more common with poor human nature
than to retort on honest Peter the offences of Paul the
rogue.

Jane used frequently to stroll over to the old stone
house, but received little consolation there. Though
happily for the human race, our feelings and sympathies
partake in the dulness of the senses produced by
age; yet are its sorrows without the solace of the
inspiring hope of better times in this world. The aged
must look beyond the grave for the rising sun, since
they cannot expect to survive its setting here. The
old couple were mourning with Christian resignation
the death of their only son, and the disgrace of their

only grandson, and though their grief was silent, it
was not less deep and lasting. The visits of Jane
were now almost their only worldly consolation, for
they saw she sympathised with them, and to be pitied
is one of the greatest consolations of stricken age.

One evening, she had returned from a visit of this
kind, more than usually depressed and sorrowful. She
took her seat in silence, and in silence sat leaning her
cheek upon her hand, and giving up her whole soul to
bitter recollections. The old continental, in the meantime,
was observing his daughter, until at length he
could contain himself no longer. In a voice that made
the poor girl start and tremble, he suddenly exclaimed:

“Thunder and Mars! Jane, what are you moping
about? you look for all the world as though you
could'nt help it.”

“Father, I cannot help it,” said Jane, bursting into
tears.

“Yes—I know what it is. Your head is running
on that good-for-nothing, beggarly, cowardly deserter,
John. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for thinking
about such a scoundrel, except to hate and despise
him.”

“Father, I don't know, I don't believe him a deserter.
He loved his country, and he loved me too well to desert
one, or give up the other. He is either dead or a
prisoner, my heart tells me so. You know, sir, it is
nothing but a rumour, that came from no one knows
where.”

“Pooh! pooh, girl! I dare say, if our country finally
loses the day, you will see him come home in a British
uniform, with a pair of evauletts on his shoulders,

and catch you as they do gudgeons, with a red rag.
You will forgive him, but by all that is sacred, I never
will.”

“Father,” said Jane, firmly, “you don't know me, if
you think so. No, father—if ever I am convinced beyond
room for doubt, that is, by my own eyes, or his
own acknowledgement, that he has deserted his country,
from that hour he shall be to me nothing but an
object of contempt and scorn. I will tear him from
my heart as I would a poisoned arrow.”

The colonel's eyes twinkled a little at this, but people
who indulge a habit of being angry, don't always
choose to be pleased against their will, and he relapsed
into his crusty humour.

“Yes—yes—it is very easy to talk; but the moment
he appears in his red coat, you will fall in love with it,
and forgive everything. The young rascal! that ever I
should be such an old blockhead as to promise him
my only daughter, my estate and my improvements.
But the fellow might have imposed upon a wiser man
than me, if such a one is to be found. He'd signalize
himself, he'd make himself worthy of being my son-in
law—he'd make his name ring! Thunder and Mars!
he has kept that last promise, for it is now ringing
with infamy in the camp of Washington. Zounds,
I'd go twenty miles to see him hanged or shot.”

“Father, dear father! do not talk so to me. You
should not bear too hard upon the bruised, broken
reed. I am struggling day and night to bear up against
the wretched uncertainty of John's fate. I believe
him innocent; but if I were sure he was a traitor to
his cause, I should soon be well again, and happy

But do not harrass, do not reproach, and above all, do
not ridicule me, because I am not what I once was. In
all my troubles, you cannot say I have ever neglected
my duty to you; and if I can now no longer cheer you
with song and smiles, nothing, not even your unkindness,
shall take from you my love and reverence.
Take me to your arms, and bless me!”

Saying this, she crept softly towards the old man,
with a look so meek, so mournful, yet affectionate,
that his tough, weather-beaten heart melted, and his
wrath exhaled like dew-drops of a sunny morning.
He opened his arms, pressed her to his heart, and exclaimed
with glistening eyes:

“Forgive your old father, dear Jane; damme if you
may'nt be as miserable as you please, and welcome.”

“Thank you, dear father!” answered the grateful
girl, and a long silence ensued, during which the colonel
was stretching his lame leg by walking back and
forth, with his hands behind him, apparently communing
with his thoughts. At length he stopped abruptly
opposite Jane, and broke forth as follows:

“Jane, I've a great mind—yes I will—Thunder and
Mars! I will, I'll see into the truth of this affair. The
army has not yet left the Highlands, and to-morrow I
will go and call on the general, to learn if possible
whether that young puppy has deserted or not. I
know something of the stratagems of war, and now I
think of it, John may have put on the beggar's dress
and that infernal red wig, to serve, not to betray his
country. What a blockhead I was not to think of this
before. Yes, I'll go—Thunder and Mars! I'll go.”

“Oh! thank you, dear father, for that promise and

that hope!” cried Jane, throwing her arms about his
neck, and kissing him. “Only get at the truth—I do
not fear the truth.”

The old continental forthwith summoned his man
of ebony, yelept Mingo, and ordered him to prepare
his trusty charger, old Ti, and his fellow-laborer, Black
Pepper, for a journey on the morrow. Moreover, he
directed him to draw his regimentals forth from their
dread abode, beat them soundly with a stick or switch,
and hang them out bright and early in the morning
for an airing. Finally, he commanded Ebony, who
had been his squire during the old French war, to dust
his ancient livery that he might not disgrace his commander.
This resolution of the father brought balm
to the bosom of the daughter, where lurked, beyond
the reach of reason or probability, a latent conviction,
founded on an intimate communion of years, that the
youth of her pride and affections was still worthy the
place he had so long occupied. That night brought
with it visions of happier times, and she rose in the
morning with the sun, and almost as bright as he.
The breakfast was more cheerful than for a long
while past, but they were disturbed in the midst of it,
by the abrupt entrance of Mingo, who, in great consternation,
announced that the colonel's regimentals
were so completely riddled by moth as to be totally
unfitted for service.

“Dem look jis like a sive, colonel. You see daylight
trough em like nottin.”

“Thunder and Mars! Jane, it's all your fault.
You've not aired them ever since you began a flirtation

with that puppy, John. I've a great mind not to
stir a foot.”

Jane made the best excuses she could, and threw
out something like an insinuation that it was Mingo's
business to attend to the regimentals; whereupon the
old continental ran a tilt against his squire, accusing
him of being a lazy old caterpillar.

“Thunder and Mars! sir! you should have sprinkled
them with snuff, or covered them with tobacco.
Have not I bought ever so many pounds of both, and
given them to you for that very purpose? But I suppose
you have snuffed and smoked it all yourself, you
old snow-ball.”

Jane, now seeing the storm directed against Mingo,
assumed the entire responsibility of the business,
though she refrained from giving the true reason of
her neglect. The colonel's uniform was that of the
old provincial troops, as they were called, which was a
blue coat, and scarlet waistcoat and breeches, trimmed
with silver lace. Now the truth is, Jane was such a
sturdy little rebel, she could not bear to see him even
partially dressed in a colour she now held in abomination,
and for this reason she had wilfully delivered the
colonel's regimentals to the custody of the moth.
She also abstained from reminding him that he might
possibly be mistaken for a British officer, lest he should
abandon the expedition in disgust. On examination,
however, it was discovered that the case was not so
desperate as Mingo had reported, and in good time,
the old continental and his faithful squire were equipped
for the journey. Old Ti and Black Pepper were
then brought forth, caparisoned in their best, and all

things being in readiness, the knight and his attendant
sallied forth in gallant array, followed by the good
wishes and prayers of the grateful daughter, now left
in solitary loneliness to the indulgence of her fears
and her anticipations.