University of Virginia Library

INTRODUCTION.

During the hot weather of July last, I removed
from the oppressive atmosphere of Philadelphia,
to enjoy the pure air of the mountains
in the upper part of Northampton county.
I took lodging in a small public house in a wild
glen adjoining Sullivan's creek, a few miles
from the village of Stroudsburg. Attached to
botanizing, which, indeed, was my chief reason
for selecting this wild district as the place of
my retreat, I one day rambled so far amidst
the sylvan hills in the vicinity, that I became
bewildered, and knew not in what direction to
bend my way homewards. I wandered for
some hours, in much perplexity, among the interminable
woods which, on all sides and from
every position, obstructed my view. At length,
in a small cleared patch of ground, I discovered
a log cabin, so rude and ruinous in its appearance,
that I might have passed it without observation,
had I not perceived smoke issuing
from its chimney. This proof of human habitation
attracted me. I approached and entered,

but found no one within. Persuaded, however,
from the appearance of the household
matters, that the owner would not be long absent,
I seated myself on a bench to await his
return.

I now leisurely surveyed the apartment,
which formed the whole house, and exhibited
nothing extraordinary. It will be sufficiently
described by saying, that its chief characteristic
was unity. It contained no duplicate of any
one article. There was but one door, one
window, one hearth, one bed, one table, one
chair, one long bench, and one large chest
which, perhaps, concealed such of its remaining
furniture as was invisible. On a shelf, in a
dark corner near the roof, my eye after some
minutes, caught an object it did not at first
perceive—a large book. I took it down. It
was a family bible. In this there was nothing
remarkable. But in drawing it from its place,
which I did rather awkwardly, a bundle of
papers fell upon the floor, which I found to be
the manuscript of the following history.

While, with feelings of surprise and curiosity,
I was occupied in turning the leaves of
this manuscript, I was startled by the approach
of footsteps. I turned round and beheld, entering
the premises, a venerable figure, bent by
the weight of years, and white with the snow

of age. In the one hand was his staff, in the
other a bundle of new-caught fish, and by his
side was a large mastiff, who cast upon me a
surly look full of suspicion. I felt confused,
as if I had been detected in the commission of
some petty crime. The old man observed my
emotion.

“Be not alarmed,” said he, “Rover injures
no one without my permission.”

“I feel,” I replied, “that I have been guilty
of intrusion, and impertinent curiosity.”

“As for your intrusion,” he observed in a
tone of good nature, “I give you a hearty welcome
to my cabin. As for the indulgence of
your curiosity, my own negligence alone is to
be blamed. I ought to have been more careful
of the manuscripts. But it is so long since
any visiter has entered my hut, that careless habits
have latterly crept upon me, and I frequently
wander abroad without even closing my door.”

“With respect to the manuscripts,” said I,
“I have only discovered their main subject.
I know nothing of their particular topics or
sentiments. The mischief I have done cannot,
therefore, be great, especially as I am willing,
in respect even to their existence, to pledge
entire secrecy should you require it.”

The old man smiled. “Secrecy in relation
to these papers, is immaterial,” said he. “But

sit down and partake of such refreshments as
my hut can furnish, for your ramble into this
solitude must have rendered refreshments needful
to you.”

I accepted his kindness. Our repast was
simple and wholesome, such as sylvan nature
remote from society, can supply. I enjoyed it
with relish, for exercise had sharpened my appetite.
When it was finished, my venerable
host reverted to the manuscripts.

“It has occurred to me,” said he, “that,
since you have discovered these papers, it may
be more in your power to make a proper use of
them, than it is in mine. They record events
which, at least in my estimation, are sufficiently
important and interesting to claim a place
in the annals of the most momentous period
that can ever mark the history of our country—
her struggle for independence. I will commit
them to your care, if you will engage to lay
them before the public, and pledge yourself
never to reveal what you know of the author
until informed of his death.”

I readily complied with the terms, and received
possession of the papers. At my lodging
I perused them carefully, and felt convinced,
that if any feeling of patriotism remained
among Americans, they could not but become
interested in a narrative which details, apparently

in the language of truth, instances almost
unparalelled in history, of the sufferings
to which their forefathers were exposed, and
which they endured with the unwavering firmness
of martyrs, that they might transmit to
their posterity the inestimable national blessings
we now enjoy.

As some passages of the narrative appeared
to me rather obscure, before returning to the
city, I again visited the venerable recluse, in
order to obtain their elucidation, as well as
whatever further instruction respecting the
publication of the work, he might be desirous
to give. But how exceedingly was I shocked,
when, on entering his hut, I found him on his
bed in the agonies of death, with no attendant
but his faithful dog, who lay whining piteously
beside him! I caught his hand and spoke to
him in a soothing tone. He recognised me,
pressed my hand feebly, and still more feebly,
in a tone indeed scarcely audible, said, “Thank
Heaven! I die in the presence of a Christian!”
These were his last words—in a few moments
he was a corpse. My landlord and three or
four of his neighbours, assisted me in paying
to him the last rites due to mortality. I shed
a tear over his grave; and should I live till
next summer, it is my intention again to visit
that neighbourhood, when I shall place over his

lowly bed, a small monument, that the wanderer
amidst those everlasting hills, who may
accidentally pass the place, may know that it
is holy ground.

The faithful Rover is now my affectionate
companion: I shall, at all times, treat him with
kindness, and carefully protect him from the
cruelty of our corporation dog-killers. The
death of his former master has released me
from my pledge of secrecy respecting the author
of the following sheets. I, therefore,
make the preceding statement with a clear
conscience.