University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
OUR HERO AND HEROINE.

Colonel Danforth was a native of New Jersey, and had served
in the war of the Revolution with some distinction, first as Captain,
and afterward as Major. He had been married twice. By his
first wife he had had no issue; his second had borne him a daughter,
some eighteen years previous to the opening of our story. As this
was the only child he ever had, and he being a man of strong,
ardent affections, it is not perhaps too much to say that he idolized
her. At the close of the war by which we so signally gained our
independence, Major Danforth returned to his family, and for several
years settled down to the quiet life of a farmer. But being naturally
restless and ambitious, this kind of occupation did not altogether
suit him; and in 1790 he removed to the West, and located himself
in Cincinnati, then a very small village. The encroachment of
the Indians soon aroused his ire and military ardor, and he signified
his intention of again joining the army, and lending his aid to the
protection of the frontier. This was represented to Governor St.
Clair, who knowing something of his history, and anxious to secure
so valuable an officer, tendered him a Colonel's commission, which
he accepted, and immediately took command of a regiment, with
which he subsequently left Cincinnati under the military direction
of the Governor himself, and proceeded on that march of peril, the
awful terminus of which we have already briefly chronicled.

It was neither the design nor wish of the Colonel that his wife
and daughter should accompany him; but as they earnestly pleaded
to be allowed to go, he finally gave his consent; which was the
more readily accorded, from the fact that he believed there would be
no fighting with the Indians, and consequently that they would be

as safe under his own immediate protection as in remaining where
they were.

Now it had so chanced, during his journey to the West, that
Colonel Danforth and his family fell in company with Edward Allen,
who, his parents being dead, had joined a party of emigrants, for
the purpose of trying his fortune in the new countries, whither so
many were then bending their steps. It was not an uncommon
thing, in those days, for two distinct parties, both journeying westward,
when coming in contact with each other, to mingle almost
indiscriminately for the time, and share each other's company for
mutual protection. All in those times, and on a similar journey,
were considered equals; for the poor man's arm and rifle were of
as much account in the moment of peril, as those of him, who might
in another clime, encase himself in an armor of gold, and stand
aloof from the humble denizen of society. Nor did refinement and
intellect then hold that distinction above the unlettered and vulgar
which it does now. The man of flowery ideas, and classic lingo,
was as likely to become a victim to the Indian's rifle, tomahawk, and
scalping-knife, as he who could not call the letters of his own name.
No! Physical strength, native cunning, hard experience, a sure rifle,
and a quick eye, were what was most needed then; and he who
could excel in these, took the highest station in the hour of danger;
and no matter what were his other qualifications, was regarded by
all with a feeling akin to deference.

We do not wish the reader to infer from these remarks, that we
are going to class our hero with the unrefined and unlettered. No,
far from it; for his early training and education were of no inferior
grade; but we merely state the facts to show how natural it was for
Colonel Danforth's party to be united with another, not a single
member of which was known to himself or any of his friends at the
time of joining.

From the very first, a mutual liking sprang up between Colonel
Danforth and Edward Allen; and this liking soon ripened into
the warmest friendship, when both found themselves acquainted,
through the memory of the father of Edward, who was mortally
wounded in a severe engagement with the British, while commanding
a company of infantry in the same regiment to which Colonel,
then Major, Danforth belonged, who well remembered and lamented
him as a brave and worthy officer. Had there been any of the
polite and formal coldness of strangers between the Colonel and
Edward previous to this discovery, this would have been sufficient
of itself to thaw it away, and let the genial warmth of friendship
take its place; but forunately nothing of this kind was needed for
this purpose—though its effect was perhaps in equal ratio, in causing
those who desired to be friends, to feel as if a sacred tie,
amounting to more than friendship, bound them to each other.

The Colonel in his enthusiastic delight presented Edward to his

wife and daughter as the son of a deceased and highly valued military
friend—though in truth no further intimacy had ever existed
between himself and Captain Allen, than what naturally arises between
a superior and inferior officer in the ordinary discharge of
their general duties. But time, place, and circumstances rendered
mere acquaintanceship friendship, in the eyes of the Colonel; and
he really felt in reviewing the past, and looking upon the offspring
of the deceased captain, as if the latter had been regarded as a
personal friend, rather than as a subordinate officer.

But if the mere meeting of the Colonel and Edward was productive
of such an ardent, mutual attachment, what shall we say of the
meeting between Edward and the Colonel's daughter, who was as
impulsive, as generous, as high-minded as himself, and, withal, far
more impressible. What does the reader suppose would be the
natural consequence of bringing together a handsome, noble-looking
youth of twenty, and a lovely accomplished maiden of seventeen,
under the circumstances we have described, provided that the affections
of neither had been previously engaged, and that each saw in
the other the identity of a perfect ideal? What, we say, does the
reader suppose would be the natural consequence of such a meeting?
Love at first sight, of course, with all the etceteras. And the
reader supposes right; for such indeed was the result of the meeting
between Edward Allen and Lucy Danforth. There are, we
know, a few cold-hearted cynics in this world, who make a point
of denying that there is any such thing as love at first sight, even if
there be such a thing as love at all. But we have only one word for
such sceptics; and that is, that we know them to be in error, and
we speak from experience.

And Lucy Danforth was a being to love, and be loved. Her
frank, artless, beautiful countenance, lighted with intellect, and the
bloom of a maiden just verging upon womanhood, with her lustrous
dark eyes sparkling with merriment, or beaming with tenderness,
through which could be perceived a soul of depth and feeling, made
her an object of admiration, and fascination, that would not have
failed of exercising a strong influence on a heart less susceptible
than was that of our hero. Nor was her outward appearance, lovely
as it was, without a mind to correspond.

A good education, and, more important still, a mother's careful
training, had enlarged her quick understanding, and instilled into
her soul all those noble and holy virtues which most adorn her sex;
and thus was she fitted to take her place, as becomes a true woman,
in any station in life to which all eventful destiny might call her.

But lovely in person, refined in manner, and noble in virtue as
she was, Edward Allen was a meet companion for her; and this we
consider as one of the highest encomiums we can pass upon him.
Tall, handsome, and manly in person, he too possessed an intellect
of no inferior order, well balanced by a sound, discriminating

judgment, and a moral rectitude that would not suffer him to go
astray from the path of duty and honor. He, too, had been fitted
by a good education, and a pious mother's precepts and example, to
enter properly upon the stage of action, and conducting himself becomingly
through life. True, that mother was now no more; but the
golden seed of virtue that she had early sown in his young breast,
had not been strewn on stony ground, but upon rich soil, capable
of bearing fruit an hundred fold. Amid all the eventful circumstances
in which he was subsequently placed, her righteous counsels
were remembered; her holy precepts were not forgotten; and
whether in prosperity or adversity, he was one to acknowledge the
wisdom of God in all.

Thus prepared, as it were, for each other, were this youth and
maiden brought together; and, therefore, it can be no wonder that
a pure and holy love was the spontaneous result—a love that would
not weaken and dissolve, but rather strengthen and cement, by
time and continued intercourse. Each saw in the other something
to admire, and something worthy of imitation; and as they journeyed
together through the wilds of the forest, and allowed their
souls to expand in cordial unison, each felt that his or her thoughts
and expressions were properly understood by the other, and that the
indescribable void which had heretofore existed in the heart, was
now happily filled by a presence dearer than self. Both possessed
a degree of romantic poetry, which gave to every new object a
secret charm; and as they journeyed under arching trees, over beds
of flowers, and across sparkling streams, every object was noted
and commented upon, with a delight, a quiet inward rapture, known
only to lovers. Thus day after day was their toilsome and perilous
journey pursued, and the toils and perils wholly forgotten in the
golden joys which each experienced in the society and converse
of the other.

At last the party arrived in Cincinnati, the present destination of
Colonel Danforth. As Edward had gone West without any settled
purpose, other than to seek a change, and, if possible, better his
pecuniary condition, it mattered little in his view where he took up
his residence; and he cheerfully accepted a cordial invitation of
the Colonel to make his house his home for the time being. Not so
with the other members of the party. Some had one destination,
and some another; and gradually they separated, to go to their
respective places; so that of the fifty persons that had erossed the
mountains together, not more than a dozen landed at Cincinnati,
and a part of these were destined for Symmes, a place since known
as North Bend, the residence of the lamented General Harrison,
whose remains still repose in a tomb on a high mound conspicuous
from the silvery Ohio.

Edward continued to reside with the Danforths for several months,
and every day he enjoyed the company of her who was dearer to

him than life. He had brought a few hundred dollars with him,
being the amount received from the disposal of the little property
his parents had left him; and these he placed in the hands of
Lucy's father, to be invested in such real estate as he might deem
proper. On learning the resolve of Colonel Danforth to volunteer
his services in the defence of the frontier, a military ardor was
awakened in the breast of Edward, and he privately expressed a
desire to the Colonel to be allowed to accompany him in the event
of his again betaking himself to the field. From this, at first,
the Colonel endeavored to dissuade him; but finding him determined,
he finally applauded his resolution, and said he would
use his influence to procure him a commission. On receiving his
own from Governor St. Clair, and learning that the latter was about
to raise an army for the purpose already shown, Colonel Danforth
wrote to him, giving a brief history and personal description of
Edward, and soliciting as a great favor that he would appoint him
as one of his aids. In course of time he received an answer, to
the effect that he the governor, had already appointed his aids, but
that he had written to General Butler on the subject, and doubted
not the services of the young man would prove acceptable to that
gallant officer. The result verified his expectations; and the first
knowledge Edward had of his so conceived good fortune, was the
receipt of a document, in which he found himself elevated to the honorable
post of aid-de-camp to General Butler, with the rank of Major.

It is difficult to portray the feelings which the reception of this
missive awakened in the mind of the young, enthusiastic, and
nobly ambitious Edward Allen. His father had died honored with
the rank of captain; and his wildest boy-dreams, and most sanguine
expectations had never led him to look beyond that without
years of service, even if he ever entered the army and attained
such an eminence at all; and now, without having struck a single
blow, he was suddenly advanced to a grade above it.

“Love, honor, and glory, at twenty-one,” mentally exclaimed
Edward—“am I not blest?”

Alas! he knew not what the future had in store for him, or his
exuberant joy would have suddenly changed to gloomy forebodings.

With his commission in his hand, and joy on his countenance,
and his heart wildly beating with a thousand bright hopes for the
future—in which rank, fame, honor, glory, and love were strangely
mingled—he entered the presence of Lucy Danforth, and hurriedly
told her all.

But, oh! instead of greeting his present joy and brilliant expectations
with smiles of delight, and expressions of rapture, the poor
girl burst into tears, threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed
bitterly. To her simple guileless, mind, loving fondly as she did,
there came no visions of glory, fame, and greatness for him before
her, but in their place the unwelcome prognostics of danger, defeat,

death, and despair. She was a soldier's daughter, it is true;
but she had not a soldier's feelings. She did not delight in scenes
of blood and carnage, and, least of all, to hear of the warlike preparations
that were to take from her friends both near and dear.
Edward, touched by her grief, did his best to tranquilize and console
her; and so far succeeded, that when he left her presence, there
her; and so far succeeded, that when he left her presence, there
was a faint smile upon her pale lovely features; but his own heart
felt heavier and sadder than he had known it for a long time. All
his dreams of greatness, by military achievements, he would now
have gladly relinquished for one hour of that quiet, peaceful joy he
had ever before experienced in the society of her he loved. But
it was now too late to repent of the step he had taken, and he made
an effort to console himself with the reflection, that his country needed
his services, and that he was only doing his duty as became a true
and patriotic citizen.

As we have before stated, the pleadings of his wife and daughter
to be allowed to accompany him on his march into the wilderness,
at last gained the reluctant assent of Colonel Danforth; and therefore
Edward and Lucy were spared that trial scene to lovers, a
parting with a great uncertainty of ever meeting again. During
the toilsome march, whenever he could be released from duty, Edward
was ever at the side of Lucy, breathing in her ear tales of
love and words of encouragement; and thus the journey, fatiguing
as it was, was rendered far less irksome to both than it would otherwise
have been.

The sudden attack on the morning of the fourth of November,
being wholly unexpected, no provision, of course, had been made
for the protection of the females; and they were thus necessarily
left exposed to all the surrounding dangers. Each officer was required
to be at his post, in the performance of his duty; and there
was consequently, no time for tender partings with those he most
dearly loved, but whom he might never behold again on earth.
Lovers may imagine the feelings of Edward, husbands and fathers
those of Colonel Danforth, as both plunged into the heat of battle,
knowing the defenceless condition of those to save whose lives either
would willingly have laid down his own.

Fortunately for Mrs. Danforth and Lucy, they occupied a marquee
pitched near the centre of the encampment, where the danger was
less imminent than near the outer circle of tents, as the Indians
would not be so likely to reach them without the interference of
American soldiers to check and change their course. Here, locked
in each other's embrace, more dead than alive with mortal dread
and mental agony, they remained in terrible suspense, for two long
hours, praying God to preserve them and their friends, yet expecting
every moment would be their last. At length, in carrying
orders from General Butler to one of his subordinate officers, Major
Allen and Colonel Danforth met.

“My wife and daughter?” cried the latter.

“I have not seen them since the action commenced,” was Edward's
reply.

“For heaven's sake, Edward, beg General Butler to allow you
to send them away with an escort! If not butchered by these red
devils, you will most likely find them in my marquee.”

“I will,” rejoined Edward; and the two parted.

Half an hour later, Edward again met the Colonel.

“I have followed your directions,” said the former, “and I trust
our friends are now in comparative safety.”

“Thank God! my son, you take a weight from my heart. Now
shall these accursed red-skins feel the force of an old man's arm.”

And Colonel Danforth kept his word. Believing his wife and
daughter to be out of danger, he entered into the spirit of the combat,
and fought with a heroism worthy of a better fate. He was
thus engaged, as the reader has already seen, when young Major
Allen came to warn him of the order to retreat; and in fact to preserve
his life, by boldly forcing his horse from the ensanguined
field. General Butler having in the meantime been killed, Major
Allen, as his aid-de-camp, was of course free to depart with his
friend; and the result of that departure is already known.

Having thus given a brief outline of matters necessary for the
reader to know, in order to have every thing clearly understood, we
shall forthwith resume the thread of our story.