 | Young folks' centennial rhymes |  |
THE LITTLE BLACK-EYED REBEL.
The name of “the little black-eyed rebel” was Mary Redmond. She
was the daughter of a patriot who lived in Philadelphia at the time it was
occupied by the British troops. In that city, and at the above-mentioned
time, the incident told in the poem took place. The following account of
the young heroine is taken from “Noble Deeds of American Women:”
“She had many relatives who were Loyalists, and these used to call her
‘the little black-eyed rebel,’ so ready was she to help women whose husbands
were fighting for freedom in getting letters from them. The letters
were usually sent from their friends by a boy, who carried them stitched in
the back of his coat. He came into the city, bringing provisions to market.
One morning, when there was some reason to fear he was suspected,
and his movements were watched by the enemy, Mary undertook to get the
papers from him in safety. She went as usual to the market, and, in a pretended
game of romps, threw her shawl over the boy's head, and secured
the prize. She hurried with the papers to her anxious friends, who read
them secretly, after the windows had been carefully closed.
“When the news came that the British general, Burgoyne, had surrendered,
the cunning little ‘rebel,’ so as not to be heard by her Loyalist
friends, put her head up the chimney, and gave a shout for Gates, the
American general.”
The name of “the little black-eyed rebel” was Mary Redmond. She was the daughter of a patriot who lived in Philadelphia at the time it was occupied by the British troops. In that city, and at the above-mentioned time, the incident told in the poem took place. The following account of the young heroine is taken from “Noble Deeds of American Women:”
“She had many relatives who were Loyalists, and these used to call her ‘the little black-eyed rebel,’ so ready was she to help women whose husbands were fighting for freedom in getting letters from them. The letters were usually sent from their friends by a boy, who carried them stitched in the back of his coat. He came into the city, bringing provisions to market. One morning, when there was some reason to fear he was suspected, and his movements were watched by the enemy, Mary undertook to get the papers from him in safety. She went as usual to the market, and, in a pretended game of romps, threw her shawl over the boy's head, and secured the prize. She hurried with the papers to her anxious friends, who read them secretly, after the windows had been carefully closed.
“When the news came that the British general, Burgoyne, had surrendered, the cunning little ‘rebel,’ so as not to be heard by her Loyalist friends, put her head up the chimney, and gave a shout for Gates, the American general.”
With food to feed the people of the British-governed town;
And the little black-eyed rebel, so innocent and sly,
Was watching for his coming from the corner of her eye.
The clothes he wore upon him were homespun, coarse, and rough;
But one there was who watched him, who long time lingered nigh,
And cast at him sweet glances from the corner of her eye.
His apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine;
But long and long he waited, and no one came to buy,
Save the black-eyed rebel, watching from the corner of her eye.
And “Who wants my potatoes?” he repeated to the crowd;
But from all the people round him came no word of a reply,
Save the black-eyed rebel, answering from the corner of her eye.
Were long letters from the husbands and the fathers far away,
Who were fighting for the freedom that they meant to gain or die;
And a tear like silver glistened in the corner of her eye.
Since keen enemies were watching for what prizes they might find:
And she paused a while and pondered, with a pretty little sigh;
Then resolve crept through her features, and a shrewdness fired her eye.
“May I have a dozen apples for a kiss?” she sweetly said:
And the brown face flushed to scarlet; for the boy was somewhat shy,
And he saw her laughing at him from the corner of her eye.
“I will have them, my good fellow, but can pay for them,” said she;
And she clambered on the wagon, minding not who all were by,
With a laugh of reckless romping in the corner of her eye.
And then whispered, “Quick! the letters! thrust them underneath my shawl!
Carry back again this package, and be sure that you are spry!”
And she sweetly smiled upon him from the corner of her eye.
And the boy was scared and panting, and so dashed he could not speak;
And, “Miss, I have good apples,” a bolder lad did cry;
But she answered, “No, I thank you,” from the corner of her eye.
Searching them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the street.
“There is nothing worth the doing that it does not pay to try,”
Thought the little black-eyed rebel, with a twinkle in her eye.
| Young folks' centennial rhymes | |