“I rejoice it is the order of Washington, that the family at the Locusts are to be removed above the Highlands. They are to be admitted to the society of Captain Wharton, who waits only for their testimony to be tried. You will communicate this order, and with proper delicacy I do not doubt. The English are moving up the river, and the moment that you see the Whartons in safety, break up and join your troop. There will be good service to be done when we meet, as Sir Henry is reported to have sent out a real soldier in command. Reports must be made to the commandant at Peekskill, as Col. Singleton is withdrawn to head-quarters to preside over the inquiry upon poor Wharton. Fresh orders have been sent to hang the pedlar if we can take him, but they are not from the commander in chief.--Detail a small guard with the ladies, and get into the saddle as soon as possible.
Your’s, sincerely, Peyton Dunwoodie.”
This communication entirely changed the whole arrangement. There could be no motive to convey the body of Isabella to a post where her father was not, and Singleton reluctantly acquiesced in her immediate interment. A retired and lovely spot was selected, near the foot of the adjacent rocks, and such rude preparations were made as their time and the situation of the country permitted. A few of the neighbouring inhabitants collected from curiosity and interest, and Miss Peyton and Frances wept in sincerity over her grave. The solemn offices of the church were performed by the minister of God, who had so lately stood forth to officiate in another and very different duty; and Lawton bent down his head, as he leaned upon his sabre, and passed his hand across his brow, while the words were pronouncing that forever shut such fervent feeling and loveliness, from the sight of man.
A new stimulus was given to the Whartons by the intelligence conveyed in the letter of Dunwoodie, and Cæsar, with his horses, was once more put in requisition. The relics of the property were entrusted to a neighbour, in whom they had confidence, and accompanied by the unconscious Sarah, and attended by four dragoons, and all of the American wounded, Mr. Wharton’s party took their departure. They were speedily followed by the English chaplain, with his countrymen, who were conveyed to the water side, where a vessel was in waiting to receive them. Lawton joyfully witnessed these movements, and as soon as the latter were out of sight, he ordered his own bugle to be sounded. Every thing was instantly in motion. The mare of Mrs. Flanagan was again fastened to the cart;--Dr. Sitgreaves exhibited his shapeless form once more on horseback, and the trooper appeared in the saddle, rejoicing in his emancipation.
The word to march was given; and Lawton, throwing a look of sullen ferocity at the place of the Skinners’ concealment, and another of melancholy regret towards the grave of Isabella, led the way, accompanied by the surgeon, in a brown study; while sergeant Hollister and Betty brought up the rear, leaving a fresh southerly wind to whistle through the open doors and broken windows of the “Hotel Flanagan,” where the laugh of hilarity and the joke of the hardy partisans, had so lately echoed in triumph.
CHAPTER IX.
“No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But winter, lingering, chills the lap of May;
No zephyr fondly sues the mountain’s breast,
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.”
Goldsmith
It was only after the establishment of their independence, that the American people seemed to consider themselves as any thing more than sojourners in the land of their nativity. Before that æra, their inventions, their wealth, and their glory centred in the isle of Britain, as unerringly as the needle pointed to the pole. Forty years of self-government has done for them, what a century and a half of dependence was unable to achieve.
The uneven surface of West-Chester was, at the period of which we write, intersected with roads in every direction, it is true; but they were of a character with the people and the times. None of those straight, tasteless paths which, with premeditated convenience, running directly from one point of the country to the other, abound in our newly settled territory, were to be found under the ancient regime; unless in extraordinary instances where a river curbed their vagaries on one side, and a mountain on the other. Instead of these direct and shortened passages, with the few exceptions we have mentioned, the highways uniformly discovered that classical taste which is only cherished under the institutions that partake of the poetry of life--the two, forming no unapt illustration of the different institutions to which we have alluded. On one side is the result of accident and circumstances, embellished with the graces of art, so as to render pleasing what is not always convenient; and on the other, a straight-forward reason, that tends directly to the object, leaving the moral of applicability to atone for what it may want in beauty and interest.
Whatever evidence of a parallel between the roads and the governments our ingenuity may devise, Cæsar Thompson found in the former nothing but transitory pleasures and repeated dangers. So long as one of those lovely valleys which abound in the interior of the county lay before him, all was security and ease. Following the meanderings of the stream that invariably wound through the bottom, the path lingered to the last moment among the rich meadows and pleasant pastures; or, running off at a right angle. shot up the gentle ascent to the foot of the hill that bounded the vale, and, sweeping by the door of some retired dwelling, again sought the rivulet and the meadow, until every beauty was exhausted, and no spot, however secluded, had escaped the prying curiosity of the genius of the highway; then, as if eager to visit another place of sylvan beauty, the road ran boldly to the base of a barrier that would frighten a spirit less adventurous, and, regardless of danger and difficulties, kept its undeviating way until the summit was gained, when, rioting for a moment in victory, it as daringly plunged into the opposite vale, and resumed its meandering and its sloth. In getting over a highway of such varied characteristics, Cæsar necessarily experienced a diversity of emotions. The cumbersome chariot that he directed moved at an even pace over the level ground, and, perched on the elevated box, the black felt no little of the dignity of his situation; but the moment of ascension was one of intense anxiety, and the descent--one of terror. As soon as the foot of a hill was discerned. Cæsar, with a reasoning derived from the Dutch settlers of the colony, commenced applying the whip to his venerable steeds, and accompanying the blows with a significant cry, their ambition was roused to the undertaking. The space between them and the point of struggle was flown over with a velocity that shook the crazy vehicle, and excessively annoyed its occupants; but the manœuvre sufficed to obtain an impetus that carried the steeds up the ascent one third of the way with glory. By this time their wind was gone-- their strength enfeebled--and the heaviest difficulties remained to be overcome. Then, indeed, it was often a matter of doubt which were to prevail in the dispute--the chariot or the horses. But the lash and the cries of the black stimulated the steeds to unwonted efforts, and happily they prevailed in each of these well contested points. Short breathing-time was allowed on gaining what in truth might be termed the “debateable land,” before a descent, more dangerous, if less difficult than the ascent, was to be encountered. At these moments Cæsar would twine the reins round his body, in a manner of remarkable ingenuity, and lead them over his head in such a way, as to make that noble member sustain the labour of curbing his horses--with either hand grasping a side of his dangerous perch, and with a countenance showing a double row of ivory, and eyes glistening like diamonds set in ebony, he abandoned every thing to the government of the ancient proverb of “the devil take the hindmost.” The vehicle, with the zeal of a new made convert, would thrust the horses to the conclusion of the argument, with a rapidity that was utterly discomfiting to the philosophy of the African. But practice makes perfect; and by the time that evening had begun to warn the travellers of the necessity of a halt, Cæsar was so much accustomed to these critical flights, that he encountered them with incredible fortitude. We should not have ventured thus to describe the unprecedented achievements of Mr. Wharton’s coach-horses on this memorable o
ccasion, did not numberless instances still exist of those dangerous pinnacles--to which we fearlessly refer as vouching for our veracity--a circumstance the more fortunate for us, when we consider, that in almost every instance inviting passes are open, where alterations might long since have been made, that would have entirely deprived us of this indisputable testimony.
While Cæsar and his steeds were thus contending with the difficulties we have recorded, the inmates of the carriage were too much engrossed with their own cares to attend to those who served them. The mind of Sarah had ceased to wander so wildly as at first; but at every advance that she made towards reason she seemed to retire a step from animation--from being excited and flighty, she was gradually becoming moody and melancholy. There were moments indeed when her anxious companions thought, with extacy, that they could discern marks of recollection; but the expression of exquisite woe that accompanied these transient gleams of reason, forced them to the dreadful alternative of wishing, at times, that she might forever be spared the agony of thought. The day’s march was performed chiefly in silence, and the party found shelter for the night in different farm-houses.
The following morning the cavalcade dispersed. The wounded diverged towards the river, with the intention of taking water at Peeks-kill, and thus be transported to the hospitals of the American army above--the litter of Singleton was conveyed to a part of the highlands where his father held his quarters, and where it was intended that the youth should complete his cure--the carriage of Mr. Wharton, accompanied by a wagon, conveying the housekeeper and what baggage had been saved and could be transported, resumed its route towards the place where Henry Wharton was held in duresse, and where he only waited their arrival to be put upon trial for his life.
The country which lies between the waters of the Hudson and Long-Island Sound, is, for the the first forty miles from their junction, a succession of hills and dales. The land bordering on the latter then becomes less abrupt, and gradually assumes a milder appearance, until it finally melts into the lovely plains and meadows of the Connecticut. But as you approach the Hudson the rugged aspect increases, until you at length meet with the formidable barrier of the Highlands. It was here the Neutral Ground ceased. The royal army held the two points of land that commanded the Southern entrance of the river into the the mountains; but all of the remaining passes were guarded by the Americans.
We have already stated that the picquets of the Continental army were sometimes pushed low into the country, and that the hamlet of the White Plains was occasionally maintained by parties of troops. At other times, their advanced guards were withdrawn to the Northern extremity of the county, and the intermediate country abandoned entirely to the ravages of the miscreants who plundered between both armies, serving neither.
The road taken by our party was not the one that communicates between the two principal cities of the state, but was a retired and unfrequented pass, that to this hour is but little known, and which, entering the hills near the eastern boundary, emerges into the plain above, many miles from the Hudson.
It would have been impossible for the tired steeds of Mr. Wharton to drag the heavy chariot up the lengthened and steep ascents which now lay before them, and a pair of country horses were procured, with but little regard to their owner’s wishes, by the two dragoons who still continued to accompany the party. With their assistance, Cæsar was enabled to advance by slow and toilsome steps into the bosom of the hills. Willing to relieve her own melancholy by breathing a fresher air, and also to lessen the weight, Frances alighted, as they reached the foot of a mountain and found that Katy had made similar preparations, with the like intention of walking to the summit. It was near the setting of the sun, and from the top of the mountain their guard had declared, that the desired end of their journey might be discerned. The maid moved forward with the elastic step of youth, and followed by the housekeeper at a little distance, they soon lost sight of the sluggish carriage, that was slowly toiling up the hill, occasionally halting to allow the animals that drew it to breathe.
“Oh, Miss Fanny, what dreadful times these be,” said Katy, when they paused for breath themselves; “but I know’d that calamity was about to befall, ever sin the streak of blood was seen in the clouds.”
“There has been blood upon earth, Katy,” returned the shuddering Frances, “though but little I imagine is ever seen in the clouds.”
“Not blood in the clouds!” echoed the housekeeper; “yes, that there has, often--and comets with fiery smoking tails--Didn’t people see armed men in the heavens the year the war begun? and the night before the battle of the Plains, wasn’t there thunder just like the cannon themselves?-- Ah! Miss Fanny, I’m fearful that no good can follow rebellion against the Lord’s anointed.”
“These events are certainly dreadful,” returned the maid, “and enough to sicken the stoutest heart--But what can be done, Katy?-- Gallant and independent men are unwilling to submit to oppression; and I am fearful that such scenes are but too common in war.”
“If I could but see any thing to fight about,” said Katy, renewing her walk as the young lady proceeded, “I shouldn’t mind it so much--’twas said the king wanted all the tea for his own family, at one time; and then agin, that he meant the colonies should pay over to him all their arnins.-- Now this is matter enough to fight about--for I’m sure that no one, howsomever he may be a lord or a king, has a right to the hard arnins of another.--Then it was all contradicted, and some said Washington wanted to be king himself, so that between the two one doesn’t know which to believe.”
“Believe neither--for neither are true. I do not pretend to understand, myself, all the merits of this war, Katy,” said Frances pausing, and blushing with the consciousness of whence it was that she had derived her opinions; “but to me it seems unnatural, that a country like this should be ruled by another so distant as England.”
“So I have heard Harvey say to his father that is dead and in his grave,” returned Katy, approaching nearer to the young lady, and lowering her voice.--“Many is the good time that I’ve listened to them talking, when all the neighbours were asleep; and sich conversations, Miss Fanny, that you can have no idee on.--Well, to say the truth, Harvey was a mystified body, and he was like the winds in the good book--no one could tell whence he came or whither he went.”
Frances glanced her eye at her companion with an interest altogether new to her, and with an apparent desire to hear more, observed--
“There are rumours abroad relative to the character of Harvey, that I should be sorry were true.”
“’Tis a disparagement every word on’t,” cried Katy, vehemently; “Harvey had no more dealings with Belzebub than you nor I had. I’m sure if Harvey had sold himself, he would take care to be better paid; though, to speak the truth, he was always a wasteful and disregardful man.”
“Nay, nay,” returned the smiling Frances-- “I have no such injurious suspicion of him; but has he not sold himself to an earthly prince, one good and amiable I allow, but too much attached to the interests of his native island to be always just to this country?”
“To the king’s majesty!” replied Katy. “Why, Miss Fanny, your own brother that is in gaol, serves king George.”
“True,” said Frances, “but not in secret-- openly, manfully, and bravely.”
“’Tis said he is a spy, and why a’n’t one spy as bad as another.”
“’Tis false,” exclaimed Frances, her eyes lighting with extraordinary animation, and the colour rushing to her face, until even her fine forehead glowed with fire; “no act of deception is worthy of my brother, nor of any would he be guilty, for so base a purpose as gain or promotion.”
“Well, I’m sure,” said Katy, a little appalled at the manner of the young lady, “if a body does the work, he should be pain for it. Harvey is by no means partic’lar about getting his lawful dues, and I dar’st to say, if the truth was forthcoming, king George owes him money this very minute.”
“Then you ac
knowledge his connexion with the British army,” said Frances; “I confess there have been moments when I have thought differently.”
“Lord, Miss Fanny, Harvey is a man that no calculation can be made on. Though I lived in his house for a long concourse of years, I have never known whether he belonged above or below. The time that Burg’yne was taken, he came home, and there was great doings between him and the old gentleman, but for the life I couldn’t tell if’twas joy or grief. Then, here, the other day, when the great British general--I’m sure I have been so flurried with losses and troubles, that I forget his name--”
“André,” said Frances, in a melancholy tone.
“Yes, Ondree; when he was hung acrost the Tappaan, the old gentleman was near hand to going crazy about it. and didn’t sleep for night nor day till Harvey got back; and then his money was mostly golden guineas; but the skinners took it all, and now he is a beggar, or what’s the same thing, dispiscable for poverty and want.
To this speech Frances made no reply, but continued her walk up the hill, deeply engaged in her own reflections. The allusions to André had recalled her thoughts to the situation of her own brother. Hope is a powerful stimulus to enjoyment and though arising from a single cause, seldom fails to mingle with every emotion of the heart. The dying declarations of Isabella had left an impression on the mind of Frances that influenced her whole deportment. She looked forward with confidence to the restoration of Sarah’s intellect, and even now, as she mused on the condition of Henry, there was a secret presentiment of his acquittal that pervaded her thoughts, which sprang from the buoyancy of youth, but for which she would have been at a loss to account.
They now reached the highest point in their toilsome progress to the summit, and Frances seated herself on a rock to rest and to admire, Immediately at her feet lay a deep dell, but little altered by cultivation, and dark with the gloom of a November sun-set. Another hill rose opposite to where she sat, at no great distance, along whose rugged sides nothing was to be seen but shapeless rocks, and oaks whose stinted growth proved the absence of soil.
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