University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.
A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE.

AMONG the early champions of American
freedom, few, perhaps, bore arms with more
honor to themselves or success to the glorious
cause, than Major Willoughby. He was the only
son of the most opulent farmer in the state of
Massachusetts, who designed his son for the
study and practice of the law. But while he was
preparing for an admittance into Harvard University,
the plains of Lexington were wet with
the blood of his countrymen.

Adieu, now, to the peaceful pursuits of literature.
The soul of young Willoughby was in

arms; and all the youth of his standing were flying
to the revolutionary standard. Some obtained
commissions; but he was of too impatient a
temper to await the dull formula of an application,
and the uncertainty of its success. He
therefore endeavored to raise and equip a volunteer
corps at his own expense; but failing,
from youth and inexperience, in that laudable
attempt, he determined to enter the provincial
army as a private.

His father was strongly opposed to this step,
and the tears of his mother for some time deferred
its execution. After a long and severe struggle,
however, between filial affection and a romantic
enthusiasm for arms, the latter obtained
the ascendency; and, in the following year, he
joined the American standard at Kingsbridge, a
few days before the battle of White Plains.

But the keen discernment of the immortal Washington
did not long permit his ardor to burn in obscurity.
Having, fortuitously, drawn him from
the ranks to supply some temporary vacancy in
his personal suite, he thought he perceived in
the young recruit, merits too promising to remain
shrouded by his present situation, and powers
of action which only wanted a theatre for
their display, and encouragement for their success.
A closer inspection soon determined him
to cultivate the seeds of future greatness which
he was convinced he had discovered in the gallant
youth; and, with this end in view, seized
every occasion of drawing forth those latent talents
for usefulness, which might otherwise have
been lost to his country and unprofitable to their
possessor. The battles of Trenton, Princeton,
Brandywine, and Germantown, together with

many subsequent events of minor consequence,
so firmly established this favorable opinion, and
did such ample justice to the penetration of his
chief, that in little more than one year from
the period of his enrolment, the fortunate Willoughby
wore an epaulet, and on the receipt of
his commission from Congress, it was presented
him by his commander in chief, accompanied
with an elegant sword as a testimony of the
general's personal esteem.

The flame, long smothered, now burst forth
without restraint. Placed by the hand of friendship
in the path of glory, Willoughby determined
to reach the dazzling goal, or perish in the
race. With the sword of Washington in his
hand, he resolved to carve himself a name, or
leave one behind him written with his blood.
Opportunities soon occurred, and were met by
him with so much bravery and address, that in
less than two years from his promotion, this
young soldier of fortune was brevetted a major,
and his name enrolled on the journal of Congress.

He was now but twenty-two years of age,
and had attained to the summit of his youthful
ambition. Honored with the public notice, and
blest with the private friendship of the first of
men, he felt his bosom glow with the most unbounded
gratitude to Heaven and his noble
patron; and in the enthusiasm of his feelings,
he vowed to devote his future life and services
to Freedom and Washington. To keep this
vow in constant remembrance, he had his sword
fancifully inscribed with the following motto:
“My God, my Country, and Washington;” and
on the reverse—“Never surrendered but with
life.”

The confidence of his general was not misplaced;
for the breast of Willoughby was the
seat of honor and every noble virtue. In the
unfortunate battle of Camden, which soon after
occurred, he added new laurels to the blooming
chaplet that already encircled his temples; but
was there disabled by a wound which for some
time deprived his country of his useful services.
At the opening of the campaign in the following
year, however, he was so far recovered as
again to take the field, and at Yorktown his
skill and gallantry were so eminently displayed,
that no small share of that day's glory was attributed
to himself.

Attached to the person of Washington by the
strong ties of gratitude and veneration, he looked
forward to a separation as the most unpleasant
occurrence that he could ever encounter;
and the glorious peace of 1783, the long-looked-for
reward of all their toils and sufferings—
the great object of all their arduous struggles
and distressing privations, was embittered to the
grateful Willoughby by the event he so much
deprecated. The army was disbanded, and the
hero who had a crown within his reach and a
sceptre at his command, resigned them both
into the hands of his legitimate sovereign—The
People, and retired, like Cincinuatus, from the
camp to the plough.

The major could not accompany him in his
retirement, though earnestly solicited; for the
recent death of his father, and the unsettled
condition of his estate, imperiously demanded
his presence and attention in the state of Massachusetts,
whither he immediately repaired, after
taking an affectionate leave of his friend and

benefactor, the Champion of Freedom, the friend
of mankind.

During the happy months of the succeeding
autumn, Willoughby was united in marriage to
the amiable Miss Cushing, a near relative of the
Hon. William Cushing, of Scituate, in the county
of Plymouth; and two purer souls, more congenial
in sentiment, or more ardent in affection,
never interchanged their faith at the hymenial
shrine. Nearly of the same age, and brought
up from childhood together, reciprocal affection
had, almost imperceptibly, united their hearts;
and sympathy of taste, virtue, and mutual tenderness,
gradually mingled their spirits, and
made them entirely one.

If any event was now wanting to complete
his earthly happiness, it was that which occurred
in the following summer, when his beloved
Amelia presented him with an infant daughter.
This was a new source of untasted delight, and
while the happy father received this dear pledge
of their mutual love in his arms, he silently ejaculated
his most fervent thanks to the Great Author
of every good.

Days, months, and years of happiness rolled
on, and three daughters were the fruits of their
nuptials. It shall not be insisted that the acquisition
of a son would not have tended to
heighten their felicity, but if that reflection ever
drew a sigh from either bosom, it was never
breathed to the ear of the other. They felt
too much gratitude for the blessings which Providence
had bestowed, to murmur for those which
he saw good to withhold.