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The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter

by Daniel P. Thompson · English · Gutenberg #6947 · 809,839 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter

Author: Daniel P. Thompson


        
Release date: November 1, 2004 [eBook #6947]
                Most recently updated: March 16, 2018

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RANGERS; OR, THE TORY'S DAUGHTER ***




Produced by David Garcia, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks,
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team









THE RANGERS

OR, THE TORY'S DAUGHTER

A Tale Illustrative Of The Revolutionary History Of Vermont And The
Northern Campaign Of 1777

By D. P. Thompson

The Author Of “The Green Mountain Boys”


Two Volumes In One

Tenth Edition





VOLUME I.


On commencing his former work, illustrative of the revolutionary history
of Vermont,--THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BOYS,--it was the design of the author
to have embraced the battle of Bennington, and other events of historic
interest which occurred in the older and more southerly parts of the
state; but finding, as he proceeded, that the unity and interest of his
effort would be endangered by embracing so much ground, a part of the
original design was relinquished, or rather its execution was deferred
for a new and separate work, wherein better justice could be done to the
rich and unappropriated materials of which his researches had put him in
possession. That work, after an interval of ten years, and the writing
and publishing of several intermediate ones, is now presented to the
public, and with the single remark, that if it is made to possess less
interest, as a mere tale, than its predecessor, the excuse must be found
in the author's greater anxiety to give a true historic version of the
interesting and important events he has undertaken to illustrate.




THE RANGERS;

OR,

THE TORY'S DAUGHTER




CHAPTER I.

  “Sing on! sing on! my mountain home,
   The paths where erst I used to roam,
   The thundering torrent lost in foam.
   The snow-hill side all bathed in light,--
   All, all are bursting on my sight!”



Towards night, on the twelfth of March, 1775, a richly-equipped double
sleigh, filled with a goodly company of well-dressed persons of the
different sexes, was seen descending from the eastern side of the Green
Mountains, along what may now be considered the principal thoroughfare
leading from the upper navigable portions of the Hudson to those of the
Connecticut River. The progress of the travellers was not only slow,
but extremely toilsome, as was plainly evinced by the appearance of
the reeking and jaded horses, as they labored and floundered along the
sloppy and slumping snow paths of the winter road, which was obviously
now fast resolving itself into the element of which it was composed. Up
to the previous evening, the dreary reign of winter had continued wholly
uninterrupted by the advent of his more gentle successor in the changing
rounds of the seasons; and the snowy waste which enveloped the earth
would, that morning, have apparently withstood the rains and suns of
months before yielding entirely to their influences. But during the
night there had occurred one of those great and sudden transitions from
cold to heat, which can only be experienced in northern climes, and
which can be accounted for only on the supposition, that the earth, at
stated intervals, rapidly gives out large quantities of its internal
heats, or that the air becomes suddenly rarefied by some essential
change or modification in the state of the electric fluid. The morning
had been cloudless; and the rising sun, with rays no longer dimly
struggling through the dense, obstructing medium of the dark months gone
by, but, with the restored beams of his natural brightness, fell upon
the smoking earth with the genial warmth of summer. A new atmosphere,
indeed, seemed to have been suddenly created, so warm and bland was
the whole air; while, occasionally, a breeze came over the face of the
traveller, which seemed like the breath of a heated oven. As the day
advanced, the sky gradually became overcast--a strong south wind sprung
up, before whose warm puffs the drifted snow-banks seemed literally to
be cut down, like grass before the scythe of the mower; and, at length,
from the thickening mass of cloud above, the rain began to descend in
torrents to the mutely recipient earth. All this, for a while, however,
produced no very visible effects on the general face of nature; for the
melting snow was many hours in becoming saturated with its own and water
from above. Nor had our travellers, for the greater part of the day,
been much incommoded by the rain, or the thaw, that was in silent, but
rapid progress around and beneath them; as their vehicle was a covered
one, and as the hard-trodden paths of the road were the last to be
affected. But, during the last hour, a great change in the face of the
landscape had become apparent; and the evidence of what had been going
on unseen, through the day, was now growing every moment more and more
palpable. The snow along the bottom of every valley was marked by a
long, dark streak, indicating the presence of the fast-collecting waters
beneath. The stifled sounds of rushing streams were heard issuing from
the hidden beds of every natural rill; while the larger brooks were
beginning to burst through their wintry coverings, and throw up and push
on before them the rending ice and snow that obstructed their courses to
the rivers below, to which they were hurrying with increasing speed, and
with seemingly growing impatience at every obstacle they met in their
way. The road had also become so soft, that the horses sunk nearly to
the flank at almost every step, and the plunging sleigh drove heavily
along the plashy path. The whole mass of the now saturated and
dissolving snow, indeed, though lying, that morning, more than three
feet deep on a level, seemed to quiver and move, as if on the point of
flowing away in a body to the nearest channels.

The company we have introduced consisted of four gentlemen and two
ladies, all belonging, very evidently, to the most wealthy, and, up to
that time, the most honored and influential class of society. But though
all seemed to be of the same caste, yet their natural characters, as any
physiognomist, at a glance, would have discovered, were, for so small a
party, unusually diversified. Of the two men occupying the front seat,
both under the age of thirty, the one sitting on the right and acting
as driver was tall, showily dressed, and of a haughty, aristocratic air;
while his sharp features, which set out in the shape of a half-moon,
the convex outline being preserved by a retreating forehead, an aquiline
nose, and a chin sloping inward, combined to give him a cold, repulsive
countenance, fraught with expressions denoting selfishness and
insincerity. The other occupant of the same seat was, on the contrary,
a young man of an unassuming demeanor, shapely features, and a mild,
pleasing countenance. The remaining two gentlemen of the party were much
older, but scarcely less dissimilar in their appearance than the two
just described. One of them was a gaunt, harsh-featured man, of the
middle ago, with an air of corresponding arrogance and assumption. The
other, who was still more elderly, was a thick-set and rather portly
personage, of that quiet, reserved, and somewhat haughty demeanor,
which usually belongs to men of much self-esteem, and of an unyielding,
opinionated disposition. The ladies were both young, and in the full
bloom of maidenly beauty. But their native characters, like those of
their male companions, seemed to be very strongly contrasted. The one
seated on the left was fair, extremely fair, indeed; and her golden
locks, clustering in rich profusion around her snowy neck and temples,
gave peculiar effect to the picture-like beauty of her face. But her
beauty consisted of pretty features, and her countenance spoke rather
of the affections than of the mind, being of that tender, pleading cast,
which is better calculated to call forth sympathy than command respect,
and which, showed her to be one of those confiding, dependent persons,
whose destinies are in me hands of those whom they consider their
friends, rather than in their own keeping. The other maiden, with
an equally fine form and no less beautiful features, was still of
an entirely different appearance. She, indeed, was, to the one first
described what the rose, with its hardy stem, is to the lily leaning on
the surrounding herbage for its support; and though less delicately fair
in mere complexion, she was yet more commandingly beautiful; for there
was an expression in the bright, discriminating glances of her deep
hazel eyes, and in the commingling smile that played over the whole of
her serene and benignant countenance, that told of intellects that could
act independently, as well as of a heart that glowed with the kindly
affections.

“Father,” said the last described female, addressing the eldest
gentleman, for the purpose, apparently, of giving a new turn to the
conversation, which had now, for some time, been lagging,--“father, I
think you promised us, on starting from Bennington this morning, not
only a fair day, but a safe arrival at Westminster Court-House, by
sunset, did you not?”

“Why, yes, perhaps I did,” replied the person addressed; “for I know I
calculated that we should get through by daylight.”

“Well, my weatherwise father, to say nothing about this storm, instead
of the promised sunshine, does the progress, made and now making, augur
very brightly for the other part of the result?”

“I fear me not, Sabrey,” answered the old gentleman, “though, with the
road as good as when we started, we should have easily accomplished it.
But who would have dreamed of a thaw so sudden and powerful as this?
Why, the very road before us looks like a running river! Indeed, I think
we shall do well to reach Westminster at all to-night. What say you, Mr.
Peters,--will the horses hold out to do it?” he added, addressing the
young man of the repulsive look, who had charge of the team, us before
mentioned.

“They _must_ do it, at all events, Squire Haviland,” replied Peters.
“Sheriff Patterson, here,” he continued, glancing at the hard-featured
man before described, “has particular reasons for being on the ground
to-night. I must also be there, and likewise friend Jones, if we can
persuade him to forego his intended stop at Brattleborough; for, being
of a military turn, we will give him the command of the forces, if he
will go on immediately with us.”

“Thank you, Mr. Peters,” replied Jones, smiling. “I do not covet the
honor of a command, though I should be ready to go on and assist, if I
really believed that military forces would be needed.”

“Military forces needed for what?” asked Haviland, in some surprise.

“Why, have you not heard, Squire Haviland,” said the sheriff, “that
threats have been thrown out, that our coming court would not be
suffered to sit?”

“Yes, something of the kind, perhaps,” replied Haviland, contemptuously;
“but I looked upon them only as the silly vaporings of a few disaffected
creatures, who, having heard of the rebellious movements in the Bay
State, have thrown out these idle threats with the hope of intimidating
our authorities, and so prevent the holding of a court, which they fear
might bring too many of them to justice.”

“So I viewed the case for a while,” rejoined Patterson; “but a few days
ago, I received secret information, on which I could rely, that these
disorganizing rascals were actually combining, in considerable numbers,
with the intention of attempting to drive us from the Court-House.”

“Impossible! impossible! Patterson,” said the squire; “they will never
be so audacious as to attempt to assail the king's court.”

“They are making a movement for that purpose, nevertheless,” returned
the former; “for, in addition to the information I have named, I
received a letter from Judge Chandler, just as I was leaving my house in
Brattleborough, yesterday morning, in which the judge stated, that
about forty men, from Rockingham, came to him in a body, at his house in
Chester, and warned him against holding the court; and had the boldness
to tell him, that blood would be shed, if it was attempted, especially
if the sheriff appeared with an armed posse.”

“Indeed! why, I am astonished at their insolence!” exclaimed the squire.
“But what did the judge tell them?”

“Why the judge, you know, has an oily way of getting along with ugly
customers,” replied the sheriff, with a significant wink; “so he thanked
them all kindly for calling on him, and gravely told them he agreed with
them, that no court should be holden at this time. But, as there was one
case of murder to be tried, he supposed the court must come together
to dispose of that; after which they would immediately adjourn. And
promising them that he would give the sheriff directions not to appear
with any armed assistants, he dismissed them, and sat down and wrote me
an account of the affair, winding off with giving me the directions he
had promised, but adding in a postscript, that I was such a contrary
fellow, that he doubted whether I should obey his directions; and he
should not be surprised to see me there with a hundred men, each with a
gun or pistol under his great-coat. Ha ha! The judge is a sly one.”

“One word about that case of murder, to which you have alluded, Mr.
Patterson,” interposed Jones, after the jeering laugh with which the
sheriff's account was received by Haviland and Peters, had subsided. “I
have heard several mysterious hints thrown out by our opponents about
it, which seemed to imply that the prosecution of the prisoner was got
up for private purposes; and I think I have heard the name of Secretary
Brush coupled with the affair. Now, who is the alleged murderer? and
where and when was the crime committed?”

“The fellow passes by the name of Herriot, though it is suspected
that this is not his true name,” responded the sheriff. “The crime was
committed at Albany, several years ago, when he killed, or mortally
wounded, an intimate friend of Mr. Brush.”

“Under what circumstances?”

“Why, from what I have gathered, I should think the story might be
something like this: that, some time previous to the murder, this
Herriot had come to Albany, got into company above his true place,
dashed away a while in high life, gambled deeply, and, losing all his
own money, and running up a large debt to this, and other friends of
Brush, gave them his obligations and absconded. But coming there again,
for some purpose, a year or two after, with a large sum of money, it was
thought, which had been left or given him by a rich Spaniard, whose life
he had saved, or something of the kind, those whom he owed beset him
to pay them, or play again. But he refused to play, pretending to have
become pious, and also held back about paying up his old debts. Their
debts, however, they determined to have, and went to him for that
purpose; when an affray arose, and one of them was killed by Herriot,
who escaped, and fled, it seems, to this section of the country, where
he kept himself secluded in some hut in the mountains, occasionally
appear-ing abroad to preach religion and rebellion to the people, by
which means he was discovered, arrested, and imprisoned in Westminster
jail, where he awaits his trial at the coming term of the court. And
I presume he will be convicted and hung, unless he makes friends with
Brush to intercede for a pardon, which he probably might do, if the
fellow would disgorge enough of his hidden treasures to pay his debts,
and cease disaffecting the people, which is treason and a hanging matter
of itself, for which he, and fifty others in this quarter, ought, in
justice, to be dealt with without benefit of the clergy.--What say you,
Squire Haviland?”

“I agree with you fully,” replied the squire. “But to return to Judge
Chandler's communication: what steps have you taken, if any, in order to
sustain the court in the threatened emergency?”

“Why, just the steps that Chandler knew I should take--sent off one
messenger to Brush, there on the ground at Westminster; another to
Rogers, of Kent; and yet another to a trusty friend in Guilford,
requesting each to be on, with a small band of resolute fellows; while
I whipped over to Newfane myself, fixed matters there, and came round to
Bennington to enlist David Redding, and a friend or two more; as I did,
after I arrived, last night, though I was compelled to leave them my
sleigh and horses to bring them over, which accounts for my begging a
passage with you. So, you see, that if this beggarly rabble offer to
make any disturbance, I shall be prepared to teach them the cost of
attempting to put down the king's court.”

“Things are getting to a strange pass among these deluded people, that
is certain. I cannot, however, yet believe them so infatuated as to take
this step. But if they should, decided measures should be taken--such,
indeed, as shall silence this alarming spirit at once and forever.”

“I hope,” observed Miss Haviland, who had been a silent but attentive
listener to the dialogue, “I hope no violence is really intended, either
on the part of the authorities or their opponents. But what do these
people complain of? There must be some cause, by which they, at least,
think themselves justified in the movement, surely. Do they consider
themselves aggrieved by any past decisions of the court?”

“O, there are grumblers enough, doubtless, in that respect,” answered
the sheriff. “And among other things, they complain that their property
is taken and sold to pay their honest debts, when money is so scarce,
they say, that they cannot pay their creditors in currency--just as
if the court could make money for the idle knaves! But that is mere
pretence. They have other motives, and those, too, of a more dangerous
character to the public peace.”

“And what may those motives be, if it be proper for me to inquire, sir?”
 resumed the fair questioner.

“Why, in the first place,” replied the sheriff, “they have an old and
inveterate grudge against New York, whose jurisdiction they are much
predisposed to resist. But to this they might have continued to demur
and submit, as they have done this side of the mountain, had New York
adopted the resolves of the Continental Congress of last December, and
come into the _American Association_, as it is called, which has no
less for its object, in reality, than the entire overthrow of all royal
authority in this country. But as our colony has nobly refused to do
this, they are now intent on committing a double treason--that of making
war on New York and the king too.”

“Well, I should have little suspected,” remarked Haviland, “that
the people of this section, who have shown themselves commendably
conservative, for the most part, had any intention of yielding to the
mob-laws of Ethan Allen, Warner, and others, who place the laws of New
York at defiance on the other side of the mountains; and much less that
they would heed the resolves of that self-constituted body of knaves,
ignoramuses, and rebels, calling themselves the Continental Congress.”

“Are you not too severe on that body of men, father?” said Miss
Haviland, lifting her expressive eye reprovingly to the face of the
speaker. “I have recently read over a list of the members of the
Congress; when I noticed among them the names of men, who, but a short
time since, stood very high, both for learning and worth, as I have
often heard you say yourself. Now, what has changed the characters of
these men so suddenly?”

“Why is it, Sabrey,” said the old gentleman, with an air of
petulance, and without deigning any direct answer to the troublesome
question,--“why is it that you cannot take the opinion of your friends,
who know so much more than you do about these matters, instead of
raising, as I have noticed you have lately seemed inclined to do,
questions which seem to imply doubts of the correctness of the measures
of our gracious sovereign and his wise ministers?”

“Why, father,” replied the other, with an ingenuous, but somewhat
abashed look, “if I have raised such questions, in relation to the
quarrel between the colonies and the mother country, I have gone on the
ground that the party which has the most right on its side would, of
course, have the best reasons for its measures; and as I have not always
been able to perceive good reasons for all the king's measures, I had
supposed you would be proud to give them.”

The old gentleman, though evidently disturbed and angry at this reply,
did not seem inclined to push the debate any further with his daughter.
The other gentlemen, also, looked rather glum; and for many moments not
a word was spoken; when the other young lady, who had not yet spoken,
after glancing round on the gentlemen in seeming expectation that those
better reasons would be given, at length ventured to remark,--

“Well, for my part, it is enough for me that my friends all belong to
the loyal party; and whatever might be said, I know I should always feel
that they were in the right, and their opposers in the wrong.”

“And in that, Jane, I think you are wise,” responded Jones, with an
approving smile. “The complaints of these disaffected people are based
on mistaken notions. They are too ill informed, I fear, to appreciate
the justice and necessity of the measures of our ministers, or to
understand very clearly what they are quarrelling about.”

“Ah, that is it,” warmly responded Haviland. “That is what I have always
said of them. They don't understand their own rights, or what is for
their own good, and should be treated accordingly. And I think some of
our leading men miss it in trying to reason with them. Reason with them!
Ridiculous! As if the common people could understand an argument!”

“You are perfectly right, squire,” responded Peters, with eager
promptness. “My own experience among the lower classes fully confirms
your opinion. My business, for several years past, has brought me often
in contact with them, in a certain quarter; and I have found them
not only ignorant of what properly belongs to their own rights and
privileges, but jealous and obstinate to a degree that is excessively
annoying.”

“Friend Peters probably alludes to his experience in the great republic
of Guilford,” said Jones, archly.

“There and elsewhere,” rejoined the former; “though I have seen quite
enough of republicanism _there_, for my purpose. One year, the party
outvoting their opponents, and coming into power, upsets every thing
done by their predecessors. The next year the upsetters themselves get
upset; and all the measures they had established are reversed for others
no better; and so they go on from year to year, forever quarrelling and
forever changing.”

“And yet, Peters,” resumed Jones, banteringly, “I doubt whether _you_
have been much the loser by their quarrels.”

“How so, Mr. Jones?” asked Haviland, who noticed that Peters had
answered only by a significant smile.

“Why, you know, Squire Haviland,” replied Jones, “that I have been on
to attend several of the last sessions of your court, as the agent of
Secretary Fanning, [Footnote: Edward Fanning, secretary to Governor
Tryon, New York, before the revolution, obtained, by an act of
favoritism from his master, a grant of the township of Stratton, which,
in 1780, Fanning having been appointed a colonel of a regiment of
tories, was confiscated, and re-granted, by the legislature of Vermont,
to William Williams and others. Kent, afterwards Londonderry, which had
been granted to James Rogers, who has been introduced, and who became a
tory officer, was also, in like manner, confiscated and re-granted.] to
see to his landed interests in this quarter. Well, friend Peters, here,
who has gone considerably into land speculations east of the mountains,
you know, had brought, it seems, several suits for the possession of
lands, mostly in this same Guilford; and among the rest, one for a right
of land in possession of a sturdy young log-roller, whom they called
Harry Woodburn, who appeared in court in his striped woollen frock, and
insisted on defending his own case, as he proceeded to do with a great
deal of confidence. But when he came to produce his deed for the land he
contended was his own, it was found, to his utter astonishment, to bear
a later date than the one produced by Peters. This seemed to settle the
case against him. But he appeared to have no notion of giving up so;
and, by favor of court, the further hearing of the case was deferred
a day or two, to enable him to procure the town records, which, he
contended, would show the priority of his deed. So he posted back to
Guilford for the purpose; but, on arriving there, found, to his dismay,
that the records were nowhere to be found. One of the belligerent
parties of that town, it seems, had broken into the clerk's office,
stolen the records, and buried them somewhere in the ground. The fellow,
therefore, had to return, and submit to a judgment against him.
Still, however, he clung to his case, and obtained a review of it, in
expectation that the records would be found before the next court. But
the poor fellow seemed doomed to disappointment. At the next court, no
records were forthcoming; and though he defended his case with great
zeal, he was thrown in his suit again; when he concluded, I suppose, to
yield to his fate without further ado.”

“Not by any means,” said Peters, in a tone of raillery. “He has
petitioned for a new trial; and the question is to come on at this
court.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Jones, laughing. “Well, I must confess I have never
seen so much dogged determination exhibited in so hopeless a case. And I
really could not help admiring the fellow's spirit and uncultured force
of mind, as much misapplied as, of course, I suppose it to have been.
Your lawyer, Stevens, really appeared, once or twice, to be quite
annoyed at his home thrusts; while lawyer Knights, or Rough-hewn Sam,
as they call him, who, either from a sly wish to see his friend Stevens
bothered, or from a real wish to help Harry, volunteered to whisper a
few suggestions in his ear occasionally, sat by, and laughed out of
his eyes, till they ran over with tears, to see a court lawyer so hard
pushed by a country bumpkin.”

“Pooh! you make too much of the fellow,” said Peters, with assumed
contempt. “Why, he is a mere obstinate boor, whose self-will and vanity
led him to set up and persevere in a defence in which he knows there is
neither law nor justice.”

“And yet, Mr. Peters,” observed Miss Haviland, inquiringly, “the young
man must have known that he was making great expense for himself, in
obtaining delays and new trials, in the hope that the lost records
would be found. If he was not very confident those records would have
established his right, why should he have done this?”

“O, that was a mere pretence about the records altering the case,
doubtless,” replied Peters, with the air of one wishing to hear no more
on the subject.

“It may have been so,” rejoined the former, doubtfully; “but I should
have hardly inferred it from Mr. Jones's description of the man and his
conduct.”

“Nor I,” interposed the other lady, playfully, but with considerable
spirit. “Mr. Jones has really excited my curiosity by his account of
this young plough-jogger. I should like to get a sight of him--shouldn't
you, Sabrey?”

But the latter, though evidently musing on the subject, and mentally
discussing some unpleasant doubts and inferences which it seemed to
present to her active mind, yet evaded the question, and turned the
conversation, by directing the attention of her companion and the rest
of the company to a distant object in the wild landscape, which here
opened to their view. This was the tall, rugged mountain, which, rising
from the eastern shore of the Connecticut, was here, through an opening
in the trees, seen looming and lifting its snowy crest to the clouds,
and greeting the gladdened eyes of the way-worn travellers with the
silent but welcome announcement that they were now within a few miles
of the great river, and in the still more immediate vicinity of their
intended halting-place--the thriving little village which was then just
starting into life, under the auspices of the man from whom its name was
derived--the enterprising Colonel Brattle, of Massachusetts.

Having now the advantage of a road, which, as it received the
many concentrating paths of a thicker settlement, here began to be
comparatively firm, the travellers passed rapidly over the descending
grounds, and, in a short time, entered the village. As they were dashing
along towards the village inn, at a full trot, a man, with a vehicle
drawn by one horse, approaching in an intersecting road from the south,
struck into the same street a short distance before them. His whole
equipment was very obviously of the most simple character,--a rough
board box, resting on four upright wooden pins inserted into a couple
of saplings, which were bent up in front for runners--the whole making
what, in New England phrase, is termed a _jumper_, constituted his
sleigh. And this vehicle was drawn by a long switch-tailed young pony,
whose unsteady gait, as he briskly ambled along the street, pricking up
his ears and veering about at every new object by the way-side, showed
him to be but imperfectly broken. The owner of this rude contrivance for
locomotion was evidently some young farmer from the neighboring
country. But although his dress and mode of travelling seemed thus to
characterize him, yet there was that in his personal appearance, as
plain as was his homespun garb, which was calculated to command at once
both attention and respect. And as he now rose and stood firmly planted
in his sleigh, occasionally looking back to watch the motions of the
team behind him, with his long, toga-like woollen frock drawn snugly
over his finely-sloping shoulders and well-expanded bust, and closely
girt about at the waist by a neatly-knotted Indian belt, while the
flowing folds below streamed gracefully aside in the wind, he displayed
one of those compact, shapely figures, which the old Grecian sculptors
so delighted to delineate. And in addition to these advantages of
figure, he possessed an extremely fine set of features, which were shown
off effectively by the profusion of short, jetty locks, that curled
naturally around his white temples and his bold, high forehead.

“Miss McRea--Jane,” said Jones, turning round to the amiable girl,
and tapping her on the shoulder, with the confiding smile and tender
playfulness of the accepted lover, as he was,--“Jane, you said, I think,
that you should like to get a sight of that spunky opponent of Mr.
Peters, whom we were talking of a little while since--did you not?”

“O, yes, yes, to be sure I did,” replied the other briskly; “but why
that question, just at this time?”

“Because, if I do not greatly mistake, that man who is pushing on before
us, in yon crazy-looking establishment, is the self-same young fellow.
Is it not so, Peters?”

“I have not noticed him particularly, nor do I care whether it is he
or not,” answered Peters, with an affected indifference, with which
his uneasy and frowning glances, as he kept his eye keenly fixed on the
person in question, but illy comported. “Well that is the fellow--that
is Harry Woodburn, you may rely on it, ladies,” rejoined Jones, gayly,
as he faced about in his seat.

Both young ladies now threw intent and curious glances forward on the
man thus pointed out to them, till they caught, as they did the next
moment, a full and fair view of his personal appearance; when they
turned and looked at each other with expressions of surprise, which
plainly indicated that the object of their thoughts was quite a
different person from what they had been led to expect.

“His dress, to be sure, _is_ rather coarse,” observed Miss Haviland
to her companion, in a low tone; “but he is no boor; nor can every one
boast of--” Here she threw a furtive glance at Peters, when she appeared
to read something in his countenance which caused her to suspend the
involuntary comparison which was evidently passing in her mind, and to
keep her eye fixed on his motions.

The arrogant personage last named, wholly unconscious of this scrutiny,
now began to incite his horses afresh, frequently applying the lash with
unwonted severity, and then suddenly curbing them in, till the spirited
animals became so frantic that they could scarcely be restrained from
dashing off at a run. The young farmer, in the mean while, finding
himself closely pressed by those behind him, without any apparent
disposition on their part to turn out and pass by him, now veered partly
out of the road, to give the others, with the same change in their
course to the opposite side, an opportunity, if they chose, of going by,
as might easily have been done with safety to all concerned.

“Mr. Peters!” suddenly exclaimed Miss Haviland, in a tone of energetic
remonstrance, at the same time catching at his arm, as if to restrain
him from some intended movement, which her watchful eye had detected.

This appeal, however, which was rather acted than spoken, was unheeded,
or came too late; for, at that instant, the chafing and maddened horses
dashed furiously forward, directly over the exposed corner of the young
man's vehicle, which, under the iron-bound feet of the fiercely-treading
animals, and the heavy sleigh runners that followed, came down with a
crash to the ground, leaving him barely time to clear himself from the
wreck, by leaping forward into the snow. Startled by the noise behind
him, the frightened pony made a sudden but vain effort to spring forward
with the still connected remains of the jumper, which were, at the
instant confined down by the passing runners of the large sleigh; when
snorting and wild with desperation, he reared himself upright on his
hinder legs, and fell over backwards, striking, with nearly the whole
weight of his body, upon his doubled neck, which all saw at a glance was
broken by the fall.

With eyes flashing with indignation, young Woodburn bounded forward to
the head of the aggressing team, boldly seized the nearest horse by his
nostrils and bridle curb, and, in spite of his desperate rearing and
plunging, under the rapidly applied whip of the enraged driver, soon
succeeded, by daring and powerful efforts, in bringing him and his mate
to a stand.

“Let go there, fellow, on your peril!” shouted Peters, choking with rage
at his defeat in attempting to ride over and escape his bold antagonist.

“Not till I know what all this means, sir!” retorted Woodburn, with
unflinching spirit.

“Detain us if you dare, you young ruffian!” exclaimed the sheriff,
protruding his harsh visage from one side of the sleigh. “Begone! or I
will arrest you in the king's name, sir!”

“You will show your warrant for it first, Mr. Sheriff,” replied the
former, turning to Patterson with cool disdain. “I have nothing to
do with you, sir; but I hold this horse till the outrage I have just
received is atoned for, or at least explained.”

“My good friend,” interposed Jones, in a respectful manner, “you must
not suppose we have designedly caused your disaster. Our horses, which
are high-mettled, as you see, took a sudden start, and the mischief was
done before they could be turned or checked.”

“Now, let go that horse, will you, scoundrel?” again exclaimed Peters,
still chafing with anger, but evidently disturbed and uneasy under the
cold, searching looks of the other.

“Hear me first, John Peters!” replied Woodburn, with the same determined
manner as before. “I care not for your abusive epithets, and have only
to say of them, that they are worthy of the source from which they
proceed. But you have knowingly and wickedly defrauded me of my farm;
unless I obtain redress, as I little expect, from a court which seems so
easily to see merits in a rich man's claim. Yes, you have defrauded me,
sir, out of my hard-earned farm; and there,” he continued, pointing
to his gasping horse,--“there lies nearly half of all my remaining
property--dead and gone! ay, and by your act, which, from signs I had
previously noticed, and from the tones of that young lady's exclamation
at the instant, (and God bless her for a heart which could be kind in
such company,) I shall always believe was wilfully committed. And if I
can make good my suspicions and a court of law will not give me justice,
I will have it elsewhere! There, sir, go,” he added, relinquishing his
hold on the horse, and stepping aside,--“go! but remember I claim a
future reckoning at your hands!”

The sleigh now passed on to the yard of the inn, where the company
alighted, and soon disappeared within its doors, leaving the young
man standing alone in the road, gazing after them with that moody and
disquieted kind of countenance which usually settles on the face on the
subsidence of a strong gust of passion.

“Poor pony!” he at length muttered, sadly, as, rousing himself, he
now turned towards his petted beast, that lay dead in his rude
harness,--“poor pony! But there is no help for you now, nor for me
either, I fear, as illy as I can afford to lose you. But it is not so
much the loss, as the manner--the manner!” he repeated, bitterly, as
he proceeded to undo the fastenings of the tackle, with the view of
removing the carcass and the broken sleigh from the road.

While he was thus engaged, a number of men, most of them his townsmen,
who being, like himself, on their way to court, had stopped at the inn,
or store, near by, where the noise of the fray had aroused them, now
came hastening to the spot.

“What is all this, Harry?” exclaimed the foremost, as he came up and
threw a glance of surprise and concern on the ruins before him.

“You can see for yourselves,” was his moody reply, as others now
arrived, and, with inquiring looks, gathered around him.

“Yes, yes; but how was it done?”

“John Peters, who just drove up to the tavern, yonder, with a load of
court gentry, run over me--that's all,” he answered, with an air that
showed his feelings to be still too much irritated to be communicative.

But the company, among whom he seemed to be a favorite were not to be
repulsed by a humor for which they appeared to understand how to make
allowance, but continued to press him with inquiries and soothing words,
till their manifestations of sympathy and offers of assistance had
gradually won him into a more cheerful mood; when, throwing off his
reserve, he thanked them kindly, and frankly related what he knew of
the affair, the particulars of which obviously produced a deep sensation
among the listeners. All present, after hearing the recital of the
facts, and on coupling them with the well-known disposition of Peters,
and his previous injuries to Woodburn, at once declared their belief
that the aggression was intentional, and warmly espoused this cause of
their outraged friend and townsman. A sort of council of war was then
holden; the affair was discussed and set down as another item in the
catalogue of injuries and oppressions of which the court party had been
guilty. Individuals were despatched into all the nearest houses,
and elsewhere, for the purpose of discovering what evidence might be
obtained towards sustaining a prosecution. It was soon ascertained,
however, that no one had seen the fracas, except the parties in
interest,--all Peters's company being so accounted,--and that,
consequently, no hope remained of any legal redress. On this, some
proposed measures of club-law retaliation, some recommended reprisals
on the same principle, and others to force Peters, as soon as he
should appear in the street, to make restitution for the loss he had
occasioned. And so great was the excitement, that had the latter then
made his appearance,--which, it seemed, he was careful not to do,--it is
difficult to say what might have been his reception. But contrary to the
expectations of all, Woodburn, who had been thoughtfully pacing up and
down the road, a little aloof from the rest, during the discussion,
now came forward, and, in a firm and manly manner, opposed all the
propositions which had been made in his behalf.

“No,” said he, in conclusion, “such measures will not bear thinking of.
I threatened him myself with something of the kind you have proposed.
But a little reflection has convinced me I was wrong; for should I take
this method of obtaining redress, nowever richly he might deserve it
at my hands, I should but be doing just what I condemn in him, and thus
place myself on a level with him in his despicable conduct. No, we will
let him alone, and give him all the rope he will take; and if he
don't hang for his misdeeds, he will doubtless, by his conduct, aid in
hastening on the time, which, from signs not to be mistaken, cannot, I
think, be far distant, when a general outbreak will place him, and all
like him, who have been riding over us here rough-shod for years, in a
spot where he and they will need as much of our pity as they now have of
our hatred and fear.”

“Ay, ay,” responded several, with significant nods and looks; “that time
will come, and sooner than they dream of.”

“And then,” said one, “it will not be with us as it was with one last
fall; when, just as the winter was coming on, and milk was half our
dependence for the children, our only cow was knocked off by a winking
sheriff, for eleven and threepence, to this same Peters.”

“Nor as it was with me,” said another poorly-clad man of the crowd,
“when for a debt, which, before it was sued, was only the price of a
bushel of wheat I bought to keep wife and little ones from starving, my
pair of two-year-olds and seven sheep were all seized and sold under the
hammer, for just enough to pay the debt and costs, to Squire Gale, the
clerk of the court, who is another of those conniving big bugs, who are
seen going round with the sheriff, at such times, with their pockets
full of money to buy up the poor man's property for a song, though never
a dollar will they lend him to redeem it with.”

“No, my friends,” said a tall, stout, broad-chested man, with a clear,
frank, and fearless countenance, who, having arrived at the spot
as Woodburn began to speak, had been standing outside of the crowd,
silently listening to the remarks of the different speakers,--“no, my
friends; when the time just predicted arrives, it will no longer be as
it has been with _any_ of us. We shall _then_, I trust, all be allowed
to exercise the right which, according to my notions, we have from
God--that of choosing our own rulers, who, then, would be men from among
ourselves, knowing something about the wants and wishes of the people,
and willing to provide for their distresses in times like these. I have
little to say about individual men, or their acts of oppression; for
such men and such acts we may expect to see, so long as this accursed
system of foreign rule is suffered to remain. We had better, therefore,
not waste much of our ammunition on this or that tool of royalty, but
save it for higher purposes. And, for this reason, I highly approve of
the course that my young neighbor, Woodburn, has just taken, in _his_
case; although, from what I have heard I suspect it was an outrageous
one.”

“Thank you, thank you, Colonel Carpenter,” said Woodburn, coming forward
and cordially offering the other his hand; “the approbation of a man
like you more than reconciles me to the course which, I confess, cost me
a hard struggle to adopt.”

“Ay, you were right, Harry,” rejoined the former, “though a hard matter
to bear; and though I am willing this, and all such outrages, should go
in to swell the cup of our grievances, that it may the sooner overflow,
yet you were right; and it was spoken, too, like a man. But let me
suggest, whether you, and all present, had not better now disperse. The
powers that be will soon have their eyes upon us, and I would rather not
excite their jealousy, at this time, on account of certain measures we
have in contemplation, which I will explain to you hereafter.”

“Your advice is good,” returned Woodburn, “and I will see that it is
followed, as soon as I can find some one to dispose of the body of my
luckless pony; for then I propose to throw the harness into some sleigh,
and join such of the company here as are on foot on their way to court.”

“Put your harness aboard my double sleigh standing in the tavern yard
yonder, Harry. And I am sorry I have too much of a load to ask you to
ride yourself. But where shall I leave the arness?”

“At Greenleaf's store, at the river, if you will; for I conclude you are
bound to Westminster, as well as the rest of us.”

“I am, and shall soon be along after you, as I wish to go through
to-night, if possible, being suspicious of a flood, that may prevent me
from getting there with a team, by to-morrow. Neither the rain nor thaw
is over yet, if I can read prognostics. How strong and hot this south
wind blows! And just cast your eye over on to West River mountain,
yonder--how rapidly those long, ragged masses of fog are creeping up its
sides towards the summit! That sign is never failing.”

Woodburn's brief arrangements were soon completed; when he and his
newly-encountered foot companions, each provided with a pair of rackets,
or snow-shoes,--articles with which foot-travellers, when the snow was
deep, often, in those times, went furnished,--took up their line of
march down the road leading to the Connecticut, leaving Peters and his
company, as well as all others who had teams, refresing themselves or
their horses at the village inn.

But, before we close this chapter, in order that the reader not versed
in the antiquarian lore of those times may more clearly understand
some of the allusions of the preceding pages, and also that he may
not question the probability that such a company as we have introduced
should be thus brought together, and be thus on their way to a court so
far into the interior of a new settlement, it may not be amiss here to
observe, that the sale and purchase of lands in Vermont at this period
constituted one of the principal matters of speculation among men
of property, not only those residing here, but those residing in the
neighboring colonies, and especially in that of New York; and that the
frequent controversies, arising out of disputed titles, made up the
chief business of the court, which, on the erection of a new county by
the legislature of New York, embracing all the south-eastern part of the
_Grants_, and known by the name of Cumberland, had here, several years
before, been established. And it was business of this kind, and the
personal, in addition to the political, interest they had in sustaining
a court, the judges of which were themselves said to be engaged in
these speculations, and therefore expected to favor, as far as might
be decent, their brother speculators, that led to the journey of the
present company of loyalists, consisting as before seen, of Haviland, a
large landholder of Bennington; Peters, an unconscientious speculator in
the same kind of property, belonging to a noted family of tories of that
name, residing in Pownal, and an adjoining town in New York; and Jones,
the agent of Fanning, from the vicinity of Fort Edward; the fated
Miss McRea, of sad historical memory, from the same place, having been
induced to come on with her lover, at the previous solicitation of her
friend, Miss Haviland, to join her, her father, and Peters, to whom she
was affianced in their proposed excursion over the mountains to court.




CHAPTER II.

  “Now forced aloft, bright bounding through the air
   Moves the bleak ice, and sheds a dazzling glare;
   The torn foundations on the surface ride,
   And wrecks of winter load the downward tide.”


After travelling a short distance in the road, Woodburn and his
companions halted, put on their snow-shoes, and, turning out to the left
into the woods, commenced, with the long, loping step peculiar to the
racket-shod woodsman, their march over the surface of the untrodden
snow. The road just named, which formed the usual route from the village
they had quitted to their place of destination, led first directly to
the Connecticut, in an easterly direction, and then, turning to the
north, passed up the river near its western banks, thus describing in
its course a right angle, at the point of which, resting on the river,
stood the store of Stephen Greenleaf, the first, and, for a while, the
only merchant in Vermont; whose buildings, with those perhaps of one or
two dependants, constituted the then unpromising nucleus around
which has since grown up the wealthy and populous village of East
Brattleborough. Such being the course of the travelled route, it will
readily be seen, that the main object of our foot company, in leaving
it, was the saving of distance, to be effected by striking across this
angle to some eligible point on the northern road. And they accordingly
pitched their course so as to enter the road near its intersection with
the Wantastiquet, or West River,--one of the larger tributaries of the
Connecticut,--which here comes lolling down from the eastern side of
the Green Mountains, and pours its rock-lashed and rapid waters into the
comparatively quiet bosom of the ingulfing stream below.

After a walk of about half an hour, through alternating fields and
forest, they arrived, as they had calculated, at the banks of the
tributary above named, where it was crossed on the ice by the winter
road, which, owing to the failure of the rude bridge near the mouth of
the stream, and the difficulty of descending the bank in its immediate
vicinity, had been broken out through the adjoining meadow and over
the river at this point, which was consequently a considerable distance
above the ordinary place of crossing.

On reaching this spot, it was found that the flood, which, on the high
grounds, where we have last been taking the reader, was but little
observable, had made, and was evidently still making, a most rapid
progress. The rising waters had already forced themselves through the
small but constantly widening outlets of their strong, imprisoning
barriers, and were beginning to hurry along, in two dark, turbid
streams, over the surface of the ice, beneath the opposite banks, where
it was still too strongly confined to the roots and frozen earth to
permit of its rising; while the uplifting mass, in the middle of the
river, had nearly attained the level of the surrounding meadows. And,
although the main body still remained unbroken, yet the deep, dull
reports that rose in quick succession to the ear from the cracking mass
in every direction around, and the sharp, hissing, gurgling sounds
of the water, which was gushing violently upwards through the fast
multiplying fissures, together with the visible, tremor-like agitation
that pervaded the whole, plainly evinced that it could not long
withstand the tremendous pressure of the laboring column of waters
beneath.

The travellers, who were not to be turned back by a foot or two of water
in their path over the ice, so long as the foundation remained firm,
drew up a long spruce pole from a neighboring fence, and, shooting it
forward through the first stream of water, passed over upon it to the
uncovered ice; and then, drawing their spar-bridge to the water next the
other bank, went through the same process, till they had all reached the
opposite shore unwet and in safety.

Here they again paused to note the appearance of the disturbed elements;
for, in addition to the threatening aspect which the river was here
fast assuming, a slight trembling of the ground began occasionally to
be perceptible; while unusual sounds seemed to come mingling from a
distance, with the roaring of the wind and the noise of rushing waters,
as if earth, air, and water were all joining their disturbed forces for
some general commotion.

“The water and ice are strangely agitated, it appears to me,” observed
Woodburn to his companions, as they stood looking on the scene before
them. “See how like a pot the water boils up through that crevice
yonder! Then hear that swift, lumbering rush of the stream beneath!
The whole river, indeed, seems fairly to groan, like some huge animal
confined down by an insupportable burden, from which it is laboring to
free itself. I have noticed such appearances, I think, when the ice was
on the point of breaking up; but that can hardly be the case here, at
present can it?”

“On the point of breaking up, now?” said one of the company in reply.
“No, indeed! Why, the ice is more than three feet thick, and as sound
and solid as a rock. Should it rain from this time till to-morrow noon,
it won't start.”

“Well, now, I don't know about that,” remarked an observant old settler,
who had been silently regarding the different portents to which we have
alluded. “I don't know about the ice staying here twenty hours, or even
one. This has been no common thaw, that we have had for the last six or
eight hours, let me tell you.”

“And still,” observed Woodburn, “I should not think the water high
enough as yet to cause a breaking up, should you?”

“With a slow rise, and in a still time, perhaps not, Harry. But when
the water is rising rapidly, as now, and especially if there is a strong
wind, like this, to increase the motion, as it does either by outward
pressure, or by forcing the air through the chinks in under the ice,
I have always noticed that the stream acts on the ice at a much less
height, and much more powerfully, than when the rise is slow and the
weather calm.”

“Then you look upon the appearances I named as indications that such an
event is soon to take place here, do you?”

“I do, Harry, much sooner than you are expecting; for the signs you name
are not the only ones which tell that story, as I will soon convince you
all, if you will be still and listen a moment.”

This remark caused the company to pause and place themselves in a
listening attitude.

“There,” resumed the speaker, pointing up to the bold, shaggy steeps
of the mountain, which we have before alluded to, and which, from the
opposite side of the Connecticut, and within a few furlongs from the
spot where they now stood, rose, half concealed in its “misty shroud,”
 like some huge battlement, to the heavens--“there! do you hear that
dull roar, with occasionally a crashing sound, away up there among those
clouds of fog near the top peaks of the mountain?”

“Ay, ay, quite distinctly.”

“Well, that is an echo, which, strangely enough, we can hear when we
can't the original sound, and which is made by the striking up there
of the roar of the river above us; that of course must be open, having
already broken up and got the ice in motion somewhere. But hark again!
Now, don't you hear that rumbling noise? Can't you, now, both hear and
feel those quick, irregular, deep, jarring sounds?”

“Yes, plainly--very plainly, now--you are right. Sure enough, the ice in
the river above us is on the move!” responded all, with excited looks.

“To be sure it is; and from the noise it makes, it must be coming down
upon us with the speed of a race-horse! Let us all to the hills, boys,
where we can get a fair view of the spectacle.”

The company, accordingly, now all ran to gain the top of a neighboring
swell, which commanded a view of West River for a long distance up
the stream, as well as one of a considerable reach of the more distant
Connecticut, both of which views were obstructed, at the spot they
had just left, by a point of woods and turn in the river in the former
instance, and by intervening hills in the latter.

Among the many wild and imposing exhibitions of nature, peculiar to the
mountainous regions of our northern clime, there is no one, perhaps, of
more fearful magnificence, than that which is sometimes presented in the
breaking up of one of our large rivers by a winter flood; when the ice,
in its full strength, enormous thickness, and rock-like solidity, is
rent asunder, with loud, crashing explosions, and hurled up into ragged
mountains, and borne onward before the raging torrent with inconceivable
force and frightful velocity, spreading devastation along the banks in
its course, and sweeping away the strongest fabrics of human power which
stand opposed to its progress, like the feeble weeds that disappear from
the path of a tornado.

Such a spectacle, as they reached their proposed stand, now burst on the
view of the astonished travellers. As far as the eye could reach upwards
along the windings of the stream, the whole channel was filled with the
mighty mass of ice, driving down towards them with fearful rapidity,
and tumbling, crashing, grinding, and forcing its way, as it came,
with collisions that shook the surrounding forest, and with the din and
tumult of an army of chariots rushing together in battle. Here, tall
trees on the bank were beaten down and overwhelmed, or, wrenched off
at the roots and thrown upwards, were whirled along on the top of the
rushing volume, like feathers on the tossing wave. There, the changing
mass was seen swelling up into mountain-like elevations, to roll onward
a while, and, then gradually sinking away, be succeeded by another in
another form; while, with resistless front, the whole immense moving
body drove steadily on, ploughing and rending its way into the unbroken
sheet of ice before it, which burst, divided, and was borne down
beneath the boiling flood, or hurled upwards into the air, with a noise
sometimes resembling the sounds of exploding muskets, and sometimes the
crash of falling towers.

But the noise of another and similar commotion in an opposite direction,
now attracted their attention, They turned, and their eyes were greeted
with a scene, which, though less startling from its distance, yet
even surpassed, in picturesque grandeur, the one they had just been
witnessing. Through the whole visible reach of the Connecticut, a
long, white, glittering column of ice, with its ridgy and bristling top
towering high above the adjacent banks, was sweeping by and onward, like
the serried lines of an army advancing to the charge; while the broad
valley around even back to the summits of the far-off hills, was
resounding with the deafening din that rose from the extended line of
the booming avalanche, with the deep rumblings of an earthquake mingled
with the tumultuous roar of an approaching tempest.

The attention of the company, however, was now drawn from this
magnificent display of the power of the elements, by an object of more
immediate interest to their feelings. This was an open double sleigh,
approaching, on the opposite side of the river, towards the place at
which they had just crossed over, in the manner we have described.
The mountain mass of ice that was still forcing its way down the river
before them, with increasing impetus, was now within three hundred
yards of the pass, to which those in the sleigh were hastening, with the
evident design of crossing. And though the latter, owing to a point of
woods that intervened at a bend in the stream a short distance above,
could not see the coming ice, yet they seemed aware of its dangerous
proximity; for, as they now drove down to the edge of the water, they
paused, and a large man, who appeared to have control of the team,
rose to his feet, and with words that could not be distinguished in
the roaring of the wind and the noise from the scene above, made an
appealing gesture, which was readily understood by our foot travellers
as an inquiry whether the team would have time to cross before the ice
reached the spot.

“It is Colonel Carpenter and his company,” said Woodburn. “He will have
no time to spare, but enough, I think, if he instantly improves it, to
get safely over. He has smart horses, and is anxious to be on this side
of the river. Let him come.”

Accordingly, they returned him encouraging gestures, which being seen
and understood by him, he instantly whipped up his horses, and, forcing
them on the ice, soon effected his passage in safety, and drove
rapidly down the road, leading along the northern bank of the stream to
Connecticut, the object of his speed being obviously to keep forward of
the icy flood, which by his progress might otherwise be soon obstructed.

“There,” resumed Woodburn, breaking the silence with which he and his
companions had been witnessing the rather hazardous passage of their
friends,--“there, the colonel is well over; but his is the last sleigh
to cross this year, unless it be drawn by winged horses.”

“Well, winged, or not winged, there is another, it seems, about to make
the attempt,” said one of the company, pointing across the river, where
a covered double sleigh, with showy equipage was dashing at full speed
down the road towards the stream.

“It is a hostile craft!” “Peters and his gang!” “We owe them no favors!”
 “Let the enemy take care of themselves!” were the exclamations which
burst from the recently-incensed group, as all eyes were now turned to
the spot.

“O, no! no!” exclaimed Woodburn, with looks of the most lively concern.
“Be they foes or friends, they must not be suffered to enter upon that
river. Why, the breaking ice has already nearly reached the bend, and
unless it stops there, that path across the stream, within five minutes,
will be as traceless as the ocean! Run down to the bank, and hail them!”
 he continued, turning to those around him. “I fear they would not listen
to me. Will no one go to warn them against an attempt which must prove
their destruction?” he added, reproachfully glancing around him.

“Shall we interfere unasked?” said one, who was smarting under a sense
of former injuries; “ay, and interfere, too, to save such a man as
Peters, that he may go on robbing us of our farms?”

“And save such a man as Sheriff Patterson, also, that he may hang the
innocent and pious Herriot?” said another, bitterly.

“And save them all, that they may keep up the court which will soon hang
or rob the whole of us?” added a third, in the same spirit.

“O, wrong--wickedly wrong! and, if no one will go, I must,” cried
Woodburn, turning hastily from the spot, and making his way down the
hill towards the river with all the speed he was master of.

A few seconds sufficed to bring him to the edge of the stream, when,
in a voice that rose above the roar of the wind and waters around, he
called on Peters, who was already urging his reluctant and snorting
horses down the opposite bank into the water, warned him of the
situation of the ice, and begged him, as he valued the lives of his
friends, to desist from his perilous attempt.

“Do you think to frighten me?” shouted Peters, who, perceiving the
speaker to be his despised opponent, became suspicious, as the latter
had feared, that the warning was but a _ruse_ to prevent him from going
on that night,--“do you think to frighten me back, liar, when a heavy
team has just passed safely over before my eyes?”

And, in defiance of the timely caution he had received, and the warning
sounds, of which his senses might have apprised him, had he paused
a moment to listen, he furiously applied the whip, and plunged madly
through the water towards the middle ice But as rapidly as he drove,
the team had not passed over more than one third of the distance across,
before he and all with him became fully aware of the fearful peril they
had so recklessly incurred; for, at this critical moment, with awful
brunt, the mountain wave of icy ruins came rolling round the screening
point into full view, and not fifty yards above them. A cry of alarm
at once burst from every occupant of the menaced vehicle and Peters,
no less frightened than the rest, suddenly checked the horses, with the
half-formed design of turning and attempting to regain the shore he
had just left. But on glancing round, he beheld, to his dismay, the ice
burst upward from its winter moorings along the shore, leaving between
them and the bank a dark chasm of whirling waters, over which it
were madness to think of repassing. At that instant, with a deep and
startling report, the broad sheet of ice confining the agitated river
burst asunder parted, and was afloat in a hundred pieces around them.
Another piercing cry of terror and distress issued from the devoted
sleigh and Miss Haviland, with an involuntary impulse at the fearful
shock, leaped out on to the large cake of ice on which the sleigh and
horses were resting. She seemed instantly to perceive her error; but
before she could regain the sleigh, or even be caught by the extended
hands of her friends, the frightened horses made a sudden and desperate
lunge forward, and, with a speed that could neither be checked nor
controlled, dashed onward over the dissevering mass, leaping from piece
to piece of their sinking support, and each in turn falling in, to be
drawn out by his mate, till they reached the shore, and rushed furiously
up the bank, beyond the sweep of the dreadful torrent from which they
had so miraculously escaped.

“O God of heaven, have mercy on my daughter!” exclaimed Haviland, in
a piteous burst of anguish, as he sprang out of the sleigh among the
company, who, with horror-stricken looks, stood on the bank mutely
gazing on the fast receding form of the luckless maiden, thus
left behind, to be borne away, in all human probability, to speedy
destruction.

For a moment no one stirred or spoke, all standing amazed, and seemingly
paralyzed at the thought of her awful situation having no hope of her
rescue, and expecting every instant to see her crushed, or ingulfed
among the ice that was wildly heaving and tumbling on every side around
her. But fortunately for her, the broad, solid block, on which she had
alighted, and on which she continued still to retain her stand, was,
by the submerged and rising masses beneath, gradually and evenly forced
upwards to the top of the column, with which it was moving swiftly down
the current. And there she stood, like a marble statue on its pedestal,
sculptured for some image of woe, her bonnet thrown back from her
blanched features, and her loosened hair streaming wildly in the wind;
while one hand was extended doubtfully towards the shore, and the other
lifted imploringly to heaven, as if in supplication for that aid from
above, which she now scarcely hoped to receive from her friends below.

“O Sabrey, Sabrey! must you indeed perish?” at length burst convulsively
from Miss McRea, in the most touching accents of distress.

“Is there no help? Can no one save her?” added the agonized father.

“Yes, save her--save her!” exclaimed Peters, now eagerly addressing
the men he affected so to despise. “Can't some of you get on to the ice
there, and bring her off? Five guineas to the man who will do it; yes,
ten! Quick! run, run, or you'll be too late,” he added, turning, from
one to another, without offering to start himself.

Throwing a look of silent scorn on his contemptible foe, Woodburn,
having been anxiously casting about him in thought for some means of
rescuing the ill-fated girl from her impending doom, now, with the air
of one acting only on his own responsibility, hastily called on his
companions to follow him, and led the way, with rapid strides, down
along the banks of the stream, as near the main channel as the water and
ice, already bursting over the banks into the road, would permit. But
although he could easily keep abreast of the fair object of his anxiety,
of whom he occasionally obtained such glimpses through the brushwood
here lining the banks as to show him that she still retained her footing
on the same block of ice, which still continued to be borne on with
the surrounding mass, yet he could perceive no way of reaching her--no
earthly means by which she could be snatched from the terrible doom
that seemed so certainly to await her; for along the whole extent of the
moving ice, and even many rods in advance of it, the water, dammed up,
and forced from the choked channel, was gushing over the banks, and
sweeping down by their sides in a stream that nothing could withstand.
And, to add to the almost utter hopelessness with which he was compelled
to view her situation, he now soon began to be admonished that she was
immediately threatened by a danger from which she had thus far been so
providentially preserved--that of being crushed or swallowed up at once
in the broken ice. He could perceive, from the increasing commotion of
the ice around her, that her hitherto level and unbroken support was
growing every moment more insecure and uncertain. And as it rose and
fell, or was pitched forward and thrown up aslant, in the changing
volume, he could plainly hear her piteous shrieks, and see her flying
from side to side of the plunging body, to avoid being hurled into the
frightful chasms which were continually yawning to receive her.

“Lost! lost!” he uttered with a sigh; “no earthly aid can now avail
her. But stay! stay!” he continued, as his eye fell on the two or three
remaining beams or string-pieces of the old bridge still extended across
the river a short distance below. “If she reaches that place alive, and
I can but gain the spot in time, I may yet save her. O Heaven, help me
to the speed and the means of rescuing her from this dreadful death!”

And calling loudly to his companions, whom he had already outstripped,
to come on, he now set forward, with all possible speed, for the place
which afforded the last chance for the poor girl's rescue. The banks
of the river, at the point which it was now his object to gain, were so
much more elevated than those above, that he had little fear of finding
the path leading on to the bridge obstructed by the water. And it had
glanced through his mind, as he descried this forgotten spot, and saw
the remains of the bridge still standing, that the maiden might here
be assisted to escape on to the bank, or be drawn up by a cord, or some
other implement, to the top of the bridge, which, being high above the
ordinary level of the water, would not probably be swept away by the
ice, at least not till that part of it on which she was situated should
have passed under it. There was an occupied log-house standing but a
short distance from the place, and the owner, as Woodburn drew near,
was, luckily, just making his appearance at the door.

“A rope, a rope! be ready with a rope,” shouted Woodburn, pointing to
the scene of trouble, as soon as he could make himself understood by the
wondering settler.

The man, after a hurried glance from the speaker to the indicated scene,
and thence to the bridge below, during which he seemed to comprehend
the nature of the emergency, instantly disappeared within the door.
In another moment Woodburn came up, and burst into the house, where he
found the settler and his wife eagerly running out the rope of their
bedstead, which had been hastily stripped of the bed and clothing,
and the fastenings cut, for the purpose. The instant the rope was
disengaged, was seized by the young man, who, bidding the other to
follow, rushed out of the house, and bounded forward to the bridge,
which they both reached just as the unbroken ice was here beginning
to quake and move from the impulse of the vast body above, which, now
scarcely fifty paces distant, was driving down, with deafening crash,
towards them.

“Thank Heaven, she yet lives, and is nearing us!” exclaimed Woodburn,
as he ran out on to the partially covered beams of the bridge, where he
could obtain a clear view of the channel above.

She is there, hedged in, though as yet riding securely in the midst of
that hideous jam, but, if not drawn up here, will be the next moment
lost among the spreading mass, as it is disgorged into the Connecticut
here below.”

“Shall we throw down an end of the rope for her to catch?” said the
settler, hastening to Woodburn's side.

“I dare not risk her strength to hold on to it; I must go down myself,”
 said Woodburn, hurriedly knotting the two ends of the cord round his
body. “Now stand by me, my friend. Brace yourself back firmly on this
string-piece; let me down, and the instant I have secured her in my
arms, draw us both up together.”

“I can let you down; but to draw you both up--” replied the other,
hesitating at the thought of the hazardous attempt.

“You must try it,” eagerly interrupted the intrepid young man, “My
friends will be here in a moment to aid you. There she comes! be ready!
Now!”

Accordingly, sliding over the edge of the bridge, Woodburn was gradually
let down by the strong and steady hands of the settler, till he was
swinging in the air, on a level with that part of the approaching mass
on which stood the half-senseless object of his perilous adventure. The
foremost of the broken ice was now sweeping swiftly by, just beneath
his feet. Another moment, and she will be there! She evidently sees the
preparation for her deliverance; a faint cry of joy escapes her lips,
and her hands are extended towards the proffered aid. And now, riding
high on the billowy column, she is borne on nearer and nearer towards
those who wait, in breathless silence, for her approach. And now she
comes--she is here! She is caught in the eager grasp of the brave youth;
and, the next instant, by the giant effort of the strong man above
them, they are together drawn up within a few feet of the bending and
tottering bridge. But with all his desperate exertions, he can raise
them no higher, and there they hang suspended over the dark abyss of
whirling waters that had opened in the disrupturing mass beneath, at
the instant, as if to receive them; while a mountain billow of ice,
that must overwhelm them with certain destruction, is rolling down, with
angry roar, within a few rods of the spot. A groan of despair burst from
the exhausted man at the rope; and his grasp was about to give way.

“Hold on there, an instant! one instant longer!” cried a loud voice on
the right, where a tall, muscular form was seen bounding forward to the
spot.

“Quick, Colonel Carpenter! quick! O, for God's sake, quick!” exclaimed
the settler, throwing an anguished and beseeching glance over his
shoulder towards the other.

The next instant, the powerful frame of the new-comer was bending over
the grasped rope; and, in another, both preservers and preserved were
on the bridge, from which they had barely time to escape, before it was
swept away, with a loud crash, and borne off on the top of the mighty
torrent. They were met on the bank by the companions of Woodburn, and
the friends of the rescued maiden, who came promiscuously running to
the spot; when loud and long were the gushing acclamations of joy and
gratitude that rang wildly up to heaven at the unexpected deliverance.




CHAPTER III.

  “The king can make a belted knight,
   Confer proud names, and a' that;
   But pith of sense and pride of worth
   Are brighter ranks than a' that.”


The village of Westminster yields, perhaps, in the tranquil and
picturesque beauty of its location, to few others in New England.
In addition to the advantage of a situation along the banks of that
magnificent river, of which our earliest epic poet, Barlow, in his
liquid numbers, has sung,

  “No watery glades through richer valleys shine,
   Nor drinks the sea a lovelier wave than thine,”

it stands upon an elevated plain, that could scarcely have been made
more level had it been smoothed and evened, by the instruments of art,
to fit it for the arena of some vast amphitheatre, which the place, with
the aid of a little fancy, may be very easily thought to resemble; for,
from the principal street, which is nearly a mile in extent, broad and
beautiful fields sweep away in every direction, till they meet, in the
distance, that crescent-like chain of hills, by which, with the river,
the place is enclosed.

It was probably this natural beauty of the place, together with its
proximity to the old fort at Walpole, at which a military establishment
was once maintained by the government of New Hampshire for the
protection of its frontier, that led to the early settlement and rapid
growth of this charming spot, which, having been entered by the pioneers
as far back as 1741, continued so to increase and prosper, though on the
edge of a wilderness unbroken, for many years, for hundreds of miles on
the north, that, at the opening of the American revolution, it was the
most populous and best built village in Vermont.

This place, at the period chosen for the beginning of our tale, had
been, for several years, the seat of justice for all the southern part
of this disputed territory, under the assumed jurisdiction of New
York, in which a majority of the inhabitants seemed to have tacitly
acquiesced. And the most prominent of its public buildings, as might be
expected, was the Court House, embracing the jail under the same roof.
This was a spacious square edifice conspicuously located, and of very
respectable architecture for the times. The village, also, contained
a meeting-house, school house, and the usual proportion of stores and
taverns. The whole place, indeed, had now nearly passed into the second
stage of existence, in American villages, when the pioneer log-houses
have given place to the more airy and elegant framed buildings; and,
compared with other towns, which, in this new settlement, were then just
emerging from the wilderness, it wore quite an ancient appearance.

Among the most commodious and handsome of the many respectable dwellings
which had here been erected, was that of Crean Brush, Esquire,
colonial deputy secretary of New York, and also an active member of the
legislature of that colony for this part of her claimed territory. This
house, at the sessions of the courts, especially, was the fashionable
place of resort for what was termed the court party gentry, and
other distinguished persons from abroad. To the interior of this
well-furnished and affectedly aristocratic establishment, we will now
repair, in order to resume the thread of our narrative.

In an upper chamber of the house, at a late hour of the same evening on
which occurred the exciting scenes described in the preceding pages, sat
the two young ladies, to whom the reader has already been introduced,
silently indulging in their different reveries before an open fire.
They had safely arrived in town, about an hour before, with all their
company, except Jones, who had been left at Brattleborough; and having
been consigned to the family of this mansion, with whom they had formed
a previous acquaintance at Albany, where Brush, the greater part of the
year, resided, and where both of the young ladies were educated, they
had taken some refreshment, and retired to the apartment prepared for
their reception. The demeanor of these fair companions, always widely
different, was particularly so at the present moment. Miss Haviland,
with her chin gracefully resting on one folded hand, and her calm and
beautiful, but now deeply-clouded brow, shaded by the white, taper
fingers of the other, was abstractedly gazing into the glowing coals on
the hearth before her, while the gentle, but less reflective McRea, with
a countenance disturbed only by the passing emotions of sympathy that
occasionally flitted over it, as she glanced at the downcast face of her
friend, sat quietly preparing for bed, by removing her ornaments, and
adjusting those long, golden tresses, with which, in after times,
her memory was destined to become associated in the minds of tearful
thousands, while reading the melancholy history of her tragic fate.

“Come, Sabrey,” at length said the latter, soothingly, “come, cheer
up. I cannot bear to see you so dejected. I would not brood over that
frightful scene any longer, but, feeling grateful and happy at my
escape, would dismiss it as soon as possible from my mind.”

“I am, Jane,” responded the other, partially rousing herself from her
reverie; “I am both grateful and happy at my providential escape.
But you are mistaken in supposing it is that scene which disquiets me
to-night.”

“Indeed!” replied the former, with a look of mingled surprise and
curiosity. “Why, I have been attributing your dejection and absence of
mind, this evening, to that cause alone. What else can have occurred to
disturb your thoughts to-night, let me ask?”

“Jane, in confidence, I will tell you,” replied Miss Haviland, looking
the other in the face, and speaking in a low, serious tone. “It is the
discovery which I have made, or at least think I have, this day, made,
respecting the true character of one who should command, in the relation
I stand with him, my entire esteem.”

“Mr. Peters? Though of course it is he to whom you allude. But what new
trait have you discovered in him, to-day, that leads you to distrust his
character?”

“What I wish I had not; what I still hope I may be deceived in; but
what, nevertheless, forces itself upon my mind, in spite of all my
endeavors to resist it. You recollect Mr. Jones's account of the
lawsuit, in which Mr. Peters succeeded in obtaining the farm of this Mr.
Woodburn, whose gallant conduct we have all this afternoon witnessed?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Well, did you think that story, when rightly viewed, was very
creditable to Mr. Peters?”

“I am not sure I understood the case sufficiently to judge; did you?”

“Well enough, Jane, with the significant winks that passed between
Peters and the sheriff, to convince me that an unjust advantage had been
taken. But perhaps I could have been brought to believe myself mistaken
in this conclusion, had I seen nothing else to confirm it, and lower him
still more in my esteem.”

“What else _did_ you see?

“An exhibition of malice, Jane, which astonished as much as it
pained me. That pretended accident, in running over Woodburn, was
designed--nay, coolly designed.”

“Why, Sabrey Haviland! how can you talk, how can you believe, so about
one whose betrothing ring is now on your finger?”

“It is indeed painful to do so; but truth compels me.”

“Might you not have been mistaken?”

“No; I saw the whole movement. I had been watching him some time, and I
noticed how he prepared those fiery horses of his for a sudden spring,
and saw the look of malicious exultation accompanying the final act. And
even now, I shudder to think what guilt he might have incurred! Even as
it resulted, only in the destruction of property, how can I help being
shocked at the discovery of a secret disposition which could have
prompted such a deed? O, how different has been the conduct of him who
has thus been made the victim of his misusage!”

“Different! Why, what has he done? I was not aware--”

“True, I am reminded that I have not told you. That loquacious landlady,
where we stopped to dine, told me, as we were coming away, that there
had been a great excitement among the people in the street, about the
outrage; and that Peters would certainly have been mobbed, if Woodburn
had not interfered and prevented it.”

“Indeed! I should have hardly expected so much magnanimity in one of his
class. It was truly a noble return for the injuries he had received from
Peters.”

“Ay, and by this last act of saving my life, he has still more nobly
revenged himself upon Peters, and upon us all.”

“Assisted to save you, I conclude you mean; for I heard Peters tell
your father, that it was the settler who lived in the house near by, and
Colonel Carpenter, who finally rescued you.”

“Did he tell my father that story, without mentioning Woodburn?” asked
Miss Haviland, with a look of mingled surprise and displeasure.

“Yes, as he came back to meet us with the news, while we were getting
round with the sleigh to the spot.”

“Well, my father shall know the truth of the case; and Mr. Woodburn,
though he did not boast of his services, nor even stay to give me an
opportunity to thank him for what he had done, shall also know that we
are not insensible to his gallant conduct; for, whatever they may say,
Jane, I am indebted to him for my life. As dreadful as was my situation
among that crashing mass of ice, with which I was borne onward down
the stream, I saw all that was done. He led the way from the first,
contrived the plan, and with the assistance of the hesitating settler,
carried it into execution, with a promptitude that alone could have
saved me. It is true, that we both must have perished but for the timely
arrival of Colonel Carpenter; but that detracts nothing from the merits
of Mr. Woodburn, who, as we hung suspended over that frightful abyss, I
knew and felt, was throwing his life to the winds to save mine. O,
why could it not have been, as I have often said to myself during our
cheerless ride this evening,--why could it not have been Peters, to
perform all that I have this day seen in that poor, despised, and
persecuted young man?”

“Why, Mr. Peters certainly appeared much alarmed, and anxious that
something should be done to save you,” replied Miss McRea, after
a thoughtful pause, produced by the words and fervid manner of her
companion.

“Then why did he leave it to another to save me?” responded the former,
severely.

“That I do not know, certainly,” replied the other; “but he at once
bestirred himself, and I heard him offer five guineas, and I think he
doubled the price the next moment, to any one who would go on to the ice
and bring you off.”

“Five guineas!” exclaimed Miss Haviland, starting to her feet, with a
countenance eloquent with scorn and contempt--“five guineas, and at a
pinch, ten! What a singular fountain must that be, from which such a
thought, at such a time, could have flowed! Had it been one of those
favorite horses, it would have sounded well enough, perhaps, though I
think he would have offered more. It is well, however, that I now know
the price at which I am estimated,” she added, bitterly.

“It _does_ sound rather strangely, now you have named it,” responded
Miss McRea, abashed at the unexpected construction put on what she had
communicated, and mortified and half vexed, that every attempt she had
made to remove her friend's difficulties only made the matter worse: “it
sounds oddly, to be sure, but I presume he did not mean any thing.”

“O, no, I dare say; nor did he do any thing, as I can learn, through the
whole affair, except attempt to deprive Woodburn of the credit he had
gained. Jane,” she continued, with softened tone, “what would you have
thought, had you been in my situation, and your lover had acted such a
part?”

“I should have thought--I don't know what I should have thought,”
 replied the other, with a feeling which showed how quickly the appeal
had taken effect. “But I should have had no occasion to have any thought
about it; for I _know_ he would have been the one to save me, or die
with me. O, I wish Mr. Jones had come on with us, for had he been there,
so good and so brave as he is, I am sure even you need not have become
so deeply indebted to this low young fellow.”

“Low, Jane, low?” said the former, reprovingly. “Was it low to overlook
so easily the injury and affront he had received from Peters, and then
return good for evil? And was it low to rescue me from the raging flood,
by exertions and risk of life, which would have done credit to the first
hero in the land?”

“O, no, not that; I did not mean that; for his conduct has been generous
and noble indeed; and from the first, when I heard Mr. Jones's account
of him, I was disposed to think highly of the man, for one in his
situation of life. I only meant that he did not belong to our party, but
was one of the lower classes of society.”

“It is true he may not belong to our party, Jane; but how much should
that weigh in the argument? Perhaps at this very hour, two thirds of
the American people would count it as weight to the other part of the
balance. And even I, trained as I have been by and among the highest
toned loyalists, wish I could help doubting that our party is the
only one that has right and reason on its side. And as to the claim of
belonging to what is called the first society, I can only say that I
wish many, who are allowed that claim among us, were as worthy of
the place as I think Woodburn is. I have always loved Justice for her
beautiful self and hated her opposite; and I never could see how those
who are guided by her and the kindred virtues, could be accounted low,
or how, or why, those who lack these qualities could claim to be called
high. Is it any wonder then, Jane, that I should feel troubled and
distressed at discoveries which, in my mind, reverse the situation that
my friends assign to the two individuals of whom we have been speaking?”

“O, you are too much of a philosopher for me in all that,” replied Jane,
“Come, be a woman now, Sabrey, and I will discuss the matter with
you, claiming, perhaps, a little, a very little, of the right of the
confessor. I can easily understand how painful it would be to have
doubts of the character of one's lover, and I can also understand,” she
continued, looking a little archly, “how one, who did not love a suitor
very hard, could feel grateful--yes, very grateful--to a good-looking
young man who had behaved gallantly. And I have a good mind to half
suspect--”

“Hark!” interrupted the other, hurriedly, while a slight tinge became
visible on her cheek--“hark! did you hear the striking of the house
clock below? It is telling the hour of midnight. Let us dismiss these
embarrassing thoughts, and retire to our repose. Your prospects, Jane,”
 she continued, rising and speaking in a sad and gently expostulatory
tone--“your prospects are bright with love and happiness; and it will
be ungenerous and cruel in you to say aught which will deepen the shade
that I fear is coming over mine.”

“O, I will not, Sabrey,” warmly returned the kind-hearted Jane. “I
did not intend it. Forgive me, do; and we will dismiss the subject for
something which will give us pleasanter dreams, and then, as you say, go
to rest and enjoy them.”

Leaving these fair friends to their slumbers, disquieted or sweetened by
the various visions which the incidents of the day had been calculated
to excite in the bosom of each, we will now repair to a lower apartment
of the house, to note the doings of a select band of court dignitaries
there assembled, for a purpose concerning which a spectator, at the
first glance, might, from the appearances, be at a loss to decide
whether it was one of revelry or secret consultation, so much did it
partake of the character of both.

Around a long table, well furnished with wine and glasses, sat a select
company of gentlemen, whose dress and deportment denoted them to be
persons of the first consequence. And such, indeed, may be said to have
been the fact, till the present time, for the party embraced the judges
and officers of the court, and such of the most stanch and influential
of their supporters as could be convened for a special consultation,
which, it was considered, the portents of the times demanded. Here was
the aristocratic and haughty Brush, the host, and leading spirit of
the party, with his florid face, cracking his jokes and ridiculing “the
boorish settlers,” in which he was sure to find a ready response in the
boisterous laugh of Peters and other young supporters of the court and
loyal party. Here, too, sat the fiery and profane Gale, the clerk of
the court, with his thin, angular features, and forbidding brow,
occasionally exploding with his short, bitter, barking laugh, as, with
many an oath, he dealt out anticipated vengeance on all those who should
dare cross the path of the established authorities. And here also was
Chandler, the chief judge of the court, with his plausible manners,
affectedly sincere look, and deferential smile, as he exchanged the
whisper and meaning glance with his colleague, Judge Sabin, a stern,
reserved, and bigoted loyalist, or as he nodded approbation to the
remarks, whatever they might be, of those around him. These with
Stearns, a tory lawyer of some note, Rogers, a tory land holder,
Haviland, and a few others, all leading and trusty supporters of the
court party, constituted the company, or rather the cabinet council,
here convened, all of whom, as appeared by the entire freedom of their
remarks, were fully in each other's confidence.

There was one person in the room, however, who had no thought or feeling
in common with the rest of those present, but who did not appear to be
deemed by them of sufficient consequence to be interrogated in relation
to his opinions, or of sufficient capacity to comprehend what was said
in his presence, at least not to any degree which might render it unsafe
that he should hear the discussion so unreservedly going forward. This
person, who was acting in the capacity of waiter to the company, being
under a temporary engagement to the master of the house, to serve him in
such work as might be wanted about the house and stables, was a youth,
of perhaps eighteen, of quite an ordinary, and even singular appearance.
His figure was low and slight, and he was made to appear the more
diminutive, perhaps, by his dress, which consisted of short trousers, a
long, coarse jacket, and a flat woollen cap, drawn down to the eyebrows.
His hair, hanging, in lank locks, to his shoulders, was light and
sandy, and his face was deeply freckled; while a pair of long, falling
eyelashes contributed to add still further to the peculiarity of his
looks, and to give his countenance, with those who did not note
the keen, bright orbs that occasionally peeped from their usually
impenetrable coverts, a sleepy and listless appearance. He now sat on
the top of a high wood-box, placed near one corner of the chimney,
with his legs dangling over one end of the box, and his head drooping
sluggishly towards the fire, apparently as unconscious of what was said
and done in the room, as the little black dog that lay sleeping on the
floor beneath his feet.

“Here, Bart,” exclaimed Brush, as the company, having dropped the
discussion of all weighty matters, were now briskly circulating the
bottle, and beginning to give way to noisy merriment--“here, Bart,
you sleepy devil, come and snuff these candles. Our chap here,” he
continued, winking archly to those around him--“our chap Bart, or
Barty Burt, to give the whole of his euphonious name, gentlemen, may be
considered an excellent specimen of the rebel party, who talk so wisely
about self-government, sitting under one's own vine and fig-tree, and
all that sort of thing; for; in the first place, he has a great deal of
wisdom, handy to be got at, it all lying in his face. And then he is so
much for self-government that no one can govern him in anything. Then
again, as to the idea of sitting under a fig-tree, I think it is one
that Bart would most naturally entertain; for had he a tree to sit
under, be it fig or bass-wood, and enough to eat, he would sit there
till he was gray, before he would think of moving.”

“Not badly drawn, that similitude,” said Stearns, after the burst of
laughter, by which these remarks were greeted, had a little subsided;
“but methinks I see a flaw therein, friend Brush: you said our young
republican's wisdom, alias ideas, all lay in his face; and then, in the
matter of the fig-tree, you go on to intimate he _has one_ distinct
idea in his head, thereby lessening the force and exactness of the
comparison, as I think you will allow.”

“I crave pardon, gentlemen,” cried the secretary; “I should have
qualified; for, really, I have several times seriously suspected Bart
to have ideas, or, at least, one whole idea of his own; and if you think
that is too much to allow the individuals of the party generally, with
whom I have compared him, why, then I must knock under, that's all.”

“You are down! you are down, then, Brush!” shouted several, with another
uproarious burst of laughter.

Bart, the chief butt of this ridicule, in the mean while, was moving
quietly about the room in performance of his bidden tasks, without
appearing to notice a word that was uttered; and but for a certain
rapid twinkling that might have been seen in his eyes, which, as he
deliberately returned to his seat in the corner, were opened to an
unusual extent, one would have supposed him utterly insensible to all
the taunts and jeering laughter of which he had thus publicly been made
the victim.

“Ah! Patterson, here you are then, at last,” exclaimed Gale, as the
former, with a disturbed and angry countenance, now came pushing his way
into the midst of the company. “We have done nothing but drink and
joke since you went out, scarcely; at all events, we have concluded on
nothing, except to wait and learn the result of your discoveries: so now
for your report.”

“Ay, ay, Mr. Sheriff,” responded Brush. “But stay, take breath, and a
glass of this glorious old Madeira, first. There! now tell us how the
land lies abroad to-night.”

“It lies but little to my liking,” growled the Sheriff, with an oath.
The rascally dogs have altogether stolen the march of us. They have been
swarming into town all the evening, as thick as bees, while not more
than a dozen of our flint-and-steel men have yet got on the ground. It
beats Beelzebub!--”

“Our witnesses,” quickly interposed Judge Chandler, bowing with a
significant smile and cautionary wink, while he threw a sidelong glance
towards Bart, whom the wary eye of the judge had detected in slightly
changing his position, so as to bring his ear more directly towards the
speakers--“our witnesses and quarrelling suitors in court you mean, of
course?”

“Why, yes--yes, your honor--if you think that necessary,” replied
Patterson, following the direction of the other's glance, and then
looking inquiringly at Brush, as if to ask whether there was any danger
to be apprehended from talking before the servant. “Pooh--nonsense!”
 said Brush, readily understanding the mute appeal. “Nonsense! You could
not make him comprehend what we are talking about in six weeks, if you
should do your prettiest. Why, the fellow has not two ideas above a
jackass!--so talk out.”

“Well, then,” resumed the sheriff, in a lower tone, “I have satisfied
myself that the rebels are plotting like so many Satans, and are in
earnest about carrying their threat into execution. Now, the question
is, what shall be done--yield the point and submit to be turned out
of the Court House to-morrow, as if we were a pack of unruly boys, or
what?”

“Yield!” fiercely exclaimed Gale--“not till my pistol bullets have drank
the heart's blood of the d----d rascals, first.”

“Ay, Gale,” responded Brush, “that would be well enough, but for one
small difficulty, which is, that these demi-savages understand quite as
much of that kind of play as we do; and so long as they outnumber us
so greatly, the fun of doing what you would propose might be less than
talking about it. Let us have Chandler's opinion. What course is it best
to take, judge?”

“Temporize!” replied the latter, in a low, emphatic tone, and with a
look of peculiar significance--“temporize till----”

“Till we can help ourselves,” said Patterson, taking up the sentence
where the other left it, or rather finishing in words what had been
expressed by looks.

“That's just my notion,” remarked Stearns. “Let them see and be assured
that we are for peace, and want nothing but what is right; all of which
may be said truly. And in this manner, if the thing is well managed,
their suspicions can be allayed, and we can get possession of the
Court House as soon as our friends get on, which will be by to-morrow
noon--will it not Patterson?”

“Yes, unless this cussed flood has carried away all the roads, as well
as bridges,” gruffly replied the sheriff. “Yes, and if these mobbing
knaves can be kept quiet then, we shall be in a situation to ask no
favors.”

“And grant none,” said Sabin, with cool bitterness.

“You don't learn,” asked Chandler, with feigned indifference--“you don't
learn that the people have brought any offensive implements with them,
do you, Patterson? It might be done covertly, you know. Has this been
seen to, by proper measures,--such as examining the straw in the bottoms
of their sleighs, and the like?”

“Yes, thoroughly,” returned the former; “they have brought no arms with
them, at any rate. We are undoubtedly indebted to your honor's skilful
management with them at Chester for that.”

“Ay, ay,” interposed Stearns, “nobody but the judge could have executed
that piece of diplomacy with the fellows. And no one but he can
carry out the business successfully now. His honor must be the one to
undertake it.”

“Certainly.” “The very man.” “He must do it.” “They would listen to none
of us.” “The thing is settled, and he must go” unanimously responded the
company.

“I really feel flattered, gentlemen,” replied Chandler, bowing and
waving his hand towards the company--“highly flattered by your opinion
of my capacity to negotiate in this delicate affair. But you will
understand, in case I accede to your wishes, gentlemen,” he continued,
with a look of peculiar meaning--“you will understand that I am to be
considered, on all hands, as utterly opposed to coercive measures--to
all--I am understood, I suppose, gentlemen?”

“Yes, yes, judge,” returned the others, with knowing winks and laughter,
“we will all understand that you are opposed to the whole move.”

Having thus arranged business for the morrow to their satisfaction,
these astute personages, who, like their party generally in America, at
that period, seemed to have acted on an entirely false estimate of the
intelligence and spirit of the common people, now rose and retired to
their respective lodgings, inwardly chuckling at their sagacity, in
being able to concoct what they believed would prove a successful scheme
of overreaching and putting down their opponents, and, at the same time,
of establishing their own tottering authority on a basis which might bid
defiance to all future attempts to overturn it.




CHAPTER IV.

  “But here, at least, are arms unchained
   And souls that thraldom never stained.”


As soon as the company, described in the preceding chapter, had all
retired from the room, Brush, bidding Bart to rake up the fire and go
to bed, proceeded to lock all the outer doors of the house, muttering
to himself as he did so, “It can't be as Chandler fears, I think, about
this fellow's going out to blab to-night; but as this will put an end to
the possibility of his doing it, I may as well make all fast, and then
there will be no chance for blame for suffering him to remain in the
room.”

So saying, and putting the different keys in his pocket, he at once
disappeared, on his way to his own apartment. When the sound of his
retiring footsteps had ceased to be heard, Bart, who had lingered in
the room, suddenly changed his sleepy, abject appearance for a prompt,
decisive look and an erect attitude.

“Two ideas above a jackass!--two ideas above a jackass, eh?” he said,
and slowly repeated, as with flashing eyes he nodded significantly in
the direction his master had taken. “You may yet find out, Squire Brush,
that my ears aint sich a disput sight longer than yourn, arter all.”

With this he blew out the last remaining light, and groped his way
to his own humble sleeping-room, in the low attic story of the back
kitchen. Here, however, he manifested no disposition to go to bed,
but sitting down upon the side of his miserable pallet, he remained
motionless and silent for fifteen or twenty minutes, when he began to
soliloquize: “Jackass!--sleepy devil!--not wit enough to see what they
are at in six weeks, eh? Barty Burt, you are one of small fishes, it is
true; but, for all that, you needn't be walloped about at this rate,
and bamboozled, and swallowed entirely up by the big ones of this
court-and-king party. You know enough to take care of yourself; yes, and
at the same time, you can be doing something towards paying these gentry
for the beautiful compliments you have had from them to-night and at
other times. The fact is, Bart, you are a rebel now--honestly one of
them--you feel it in you, and you may as well let it out. So here goes
for their meeting, if it is to be found, if I am hanged for it.”

Having, in this whimsical manner, made a sort of manifesto of his
principles and intentions, as if to give them, with himself, a more
fixed and definite character, he now rose buttoned up his jacket,
carefully raised the window of his room, let himself down to the roof of
a shed beneath it, and from that descended to the ground, with the easy
and rapid motions of a squirrel engaged in nut-gathering. Here he cast
a furtive glance around him, and paused some moments, in apparent
hesitation, respecting the course to be taken to find those of whom he
was in quest. Soon, however, appearing to come to a determination, he
struck out into the main street, and, with a quick step, proceeded on,
perhaps a furlong, when he suddenly stopped short, and exclaimed, “Hold
up, Bart. What did that sly judge say about searching in folks' sleighs,
for--what was that word now?--But never mind, it meant guns. And what
did the sheriff say about a dozen flint-and-steel men having come? Put
that and that together now, Bart, and see if it don't mean that the only
guns brought into town to-night are packed away in the straw, in the
bottom of the sleighs of the court party understrappers? Let's go and
mouse round their stopping-place a little, Bart. Perhaps you'll get more
news to carry to the rebels,” he added, turning round and making towards
the tavern at which those in the interests of the loyalists were known
generally to put up.

On reaching the tavern, and finding all there still and dark, he
proceeded directly to the barn shed, and commenced a search, which was
soon rewarded by finding, in the different sleighs about the place,
twelve muskets, carefully concealed in hay or blankets. With a low
chuckle of delight at his discovery, Bart took as many as he could
conveniently carry at one load, and, going with them into the barn,
thrust them one by one into the hay mow, under the girts and beams,
so as effectually to conceal them. He then returned for others, and
continued his employment till the whole were thus disposed of; when
he left the place, and resumed his walk to the northerly end of the
village. After pursuing his way through the street, and some distance
down the road beyond the village, he paused against a low, long
log-house, standing endwise to the road. This house was occupied by a
middle-aged, single man, known by the name of Tom Dunning, though often
called Ditter Dunning, and sometimes Der Ditter, on account of his
frequent use of these terms as prefixes to his words and sentences,
arising from a natural impediment of speech. He was a hunter by
profession, and passed most of his lime in the woods, or round the
Connecticut in catching salmon, which, at that period, were found in
the river in considerable numbers, as far up as Bellows Falls. Though
he mingled but little in society, yet he was known to be well informed
respecting all the public movements of the times; and it was also
believed that he had enrolled himself among the far-famed band of Green
Mountain Boys, and often joined them in their operations against the
Yorkers, on the other side of the mountains. Very little however,
was known about the man, except that he was a shrewd resolute fellow,
extremely eccentric, and perfectly impenetrable to all but the few in
whom he confided.

Bart, from some remark he had overheard in the street, in the early part
of the evening, had been led to conclude that the company he now sought
were assembled at this house. And though he was personally unacquainted
with the owner, and knew nothing of his principles, yet he was resolved
to enter and trust to luck to make his introduction, if the company were
present, and, if not, to rely on his own wit to discover whether it were
safe to unfold his errand.

As he was approaching the house, Dunning hastily emerged from the door,
and, advancing with a quick step, confronted him in the path with an air
which seemed to imply an expectation that his business would be at once
announced. Bart, who was not to be discomposed by any thing of this
kind, manifested no hurry to name his errand, and seemed to prefer that
the other should be the first to break the silence.

“Ditter--seems to me I have seen you somewhere?” at length said Dunning,
inquiringly.

“Very likely. I have often been there,” replied Bart, with the utmost
gravity.

“Ditter--devil you have! And what did you--der--ditter--find there, my
foxy young friend?”

“Nothing that I was looking for.”

“Der--what was that?”

“The meeting.”

“Der--what meeting?”

“The one I'd like to go to, may be.”

“You are a bright pup; but--der--don't spit this way; it might be
der--ditter--dangerous business to me; for you must have been eating
razors to-night.”

“No, I haven't; don't love 'em. But you haven't yet told me where the
meeting is?”

“Ditter--look here, my little chap,” said Dunning, getting impatient and
vexed that he could not decide whether the other was a knave, simpleton,
or neither--“ditter--look here;--der--don't your folks want you? Hadn't
you better run along now?”

“Reckon I shall, when you tell me where to go and not run against
snags.”

“Ditter well, der go back the way you come, about ditter as far again as
half way; der then, ditter turn to the ditter right, then to the ditter
left, then der--ditter--ditter--ditter--go along! you'll get there
before I can tell you.”

“In no sort of hurry; will wait till you get your mouth off; may be it
will shoot near the mark arter all.”

“Ditter, dog, my cat, if I--der--don't begin to believe you are
considerable of a critter: and I've half a mind to risk you a piece; so
come into the house, and, der--let me take a squint at your phiz in the
light.”

Taking no exceptions to the character of the invitation, Bart now
followed the other into the house, and, sitting down on a bench by the
fire, began very unconcernedly to whistle, on a low key, the tune
of Yankee Doodle, which was then just beginning to be considered a
patriotic air. Dunning, in the mean time, taking a seat in the opposite
corner, commenced his proposed scrutiny, which he continued, with one
eye partly closed, and with a certain dubious expression of countenance,
for some moments, when he observed,

“You are a ditter queer chicken, that's a fact. But I der find now that
I know you, as the ditter divil did his pigs, by sight; I know also the
sort of folks you have been living amongst lately; and der knowing
all that, it's reasonable that I should be a snuffing a little for the
ditter smell of brimstone. So now if you are a court party tory, and
come here for mischief, you've got into a place that will ditter prove
too hot for you; but if, as I rather think, you are, or der want to be,
something better, and can let us into the shape and fix of matters and
things over there at ditter head-quarters, you may be the chap we would
like to see. Ditter speak out therefore, like a man, and no more of your
ditter squizzling.”

After a few more evasive remarks, in which he succeeded in drawing out
the other more fully, and causing him the more completely to commit
himself, Bart threw aside all bantering, and proceeded to relate all his
discoveries relative to the contemplated movement of the court party.

“Ditter devils and dumplings!” exclaimed the hunter, as, with eyes
sparkling with excitement, he sprang to his feet, as the other finished
his recital. “This must be made known directly. Come--der follow me, and
I'll take you to the company you ditter said you wished to see.”

So saying, he immediately led the way through a dark entry to a room
in the rear of the house, which the two now entered; when Bart found
himself in a company of nearly twenty grave and stern-looking men,
deliberating in a regularly organized meeting.

“Ditter here, Captain Wright,” eagerly commenced Dunning, as he entered,
addressing the chairman, a prompt, fine-looking man, and the leading
whig of the village; “here is one,” he continued, pointing to Bart, “one
who brings ditter news that--”

“Esquire Knowlton, of Townsend, has the floor now,” said the chairman,
interrupting the speaker, and directing his attention to a middle-aged
man of a gentlemanly, intelligent appearance, who was standing on one
side of the room, having suspended the remarks he was making at the
entrance of Dunning and his companion.

“As I was remarking, Mr. Chairman,” now resumed the gentleman who had
been thus interrupted in his speech, “the tory party, acting under
various disguises, have been, for several months past, secretly using
every means within their reach to strengthen their unrighteous rule in
this already sadly oppressed section of the country. They aim to
bring the people into a state of bondage and slavery. When no cash is
stirring, with which debts can be paid, they purposely multiply suits,
seize property, which they well know can never be redeemed, and take it
into their hands, that they may make the people dependent on them,
and subservient to their party purposes. And just so far as they find
themselves strengthened by these and other disguised movements, so far
they betray their intention to curtail all freedom of opinion, and to
overawe us by open acts of oppression. Here, one man has been thrown
into prison on the charge of high treason; when all they proved against
him was the remark, that if the king had signed the Quebec bill, he had
broken his coronation oath. There, another, a poor harmless recluse, as
I have ever supposed him, is dragged from his hut in the mountains and
imprisoned to await his trial for an alleged murder, committed long ago,
and in another jurisdiction; when his only crime, with his prosecutors,
probably, is his bold denunciations of their tyranny, unless, as some
suspect, even a baser motive actuates them. They even proclaim, that
_all_ who dare question the king's right to tax us without our consent,
are guilty of high treason and worthy of death! For myself, I seek
not the suspension of this court at this time, on account of the
questionable jurisdiction of New York merely, but because the court,
itself bitterly tory in all its branches, is sustained by a colony which
refuses to adopt the resolves of the Continental Congress, and thereby
continues to force upon us the royal authority, which our brethren of
the other colonies have almost every where put down, and which in our
case, Heaven knows, is not the least deserving the fate it has met
elsewhere. And the question, then, now comes home to us, Shall we
tolerate it any longer? The hearts of the people, though their tongues
may often be awed into silence--the hearts of the people are ready to
respond their indignant _no_! And I, for one, am ready to join in the
cry, and stepping into the first rank of the opposers of arbitrary
power, breast the storm in discharging my duty to my country.”

“Amen!” was the deep and general response of the company.

“Mr. Dunning will now be heard,” said the chairman, motioning to the
former to come forward.

“Ditter well, Captain--der--ditter Mr. Moderator, I mean. I, being on
the watch against ditter interlopers, you know, have just picked up an
odd coon, here, who ditter seems to have ears in one place and tongue in
another; and his story is a ditter loud one. But let him tell it in his
own way. So now, Barty Burt,” he continued, going up to the other,
who stood by the fire, kicking the fore-stick with his usual air of
indifference; “come forward, and tell the meeting all you have der seen
and heard, in the ditter camp of the Philistines.”

Bart, then, mostly in the way of answers to a series of rapid questions,
put by the chairman, who seemed to know him, and understand the best way
of drawing him out,--Bart then related his discoveries to his astonished
and indignant auditors, giving such imitations of the manner of each
of the company, whose words he was repeating, as not only showed their
meaning in its full force, but at once convinced all present of the
truth of his story.

No sooner had Bart closed, than a half dozen of the company sprang
to their feet, in their eagerness to express their indignation and
abhorrence of the bloody plot, which their opponents under the garb of
peace and fair promises, had, it was now evident, been hatching against
them.

“Order, gentlemen!” cried the chairman: “I don't wonder you all want
to denounce the detestable and cowardly conduct of the tyrants. But one
only can be heard at a time, and Mr. French, I rather think, was fairly
up first, and he will therefore proceed.”

While all others, on hearing this remark of the chairman, resumed their
seats, the person thus named, as privileged to speak first, remained
standing. He was a young man, of about twenty-two, of a ready, animated
appearance, while every look and motion of his ardent countenance and
restless muscles proclaimed him to be of the most sanguine temperament
and enthusiastic feelings. An almost unnatural excitement was sparkling
in his kindling eyes, and a sort of wild, fitful, sad, and prophetic air
characterized his whole appearance as he began.

“It has come at last, then! I knew it was coming. I have felt it for
months; waking and sleeping, I have felt it. In my dreams I have seen
blood in the skies, and heard sounds of battle in the air and
earth. Dreams of themselves, I know, are generally without sign or
significance; but when the spirit of a dream remains on the mind through
the waking hours, as it has on mine, I know it has a meaning. Something
has been hurrying me to be ready for the great event. I could not help
coming here to-night. I cannot help being here to-morrow. The event and
the time are at hand! I see it now--resistance, and battle, and blood!
Let it come! the victims are ready; and their blood, poured out on
the wood on the altar of liberty, will bring down fire from heaven to
consume the oppressors!”

There was a short silence among the company, who seemed to pause, in
surprise and awe at the strange words and manner of the young man, which
evidently made an impression on his hearers at the time, and which
were afterwards remembered, and often repeated, at the fireside, in
recounting his untimely fate.

“Mr. Fletcher,” at length observed the chairman, breaking the
silence--“Mr. Fletcher, of Newfane, is next entitled to speak, I
believe.”

“I rose, Mr. Chairnan,” said the latter, a fine specimen of the hardy,
resolute, and intelligent yeoman of the times--“I rose but to ask
whether the news just received can be relied on: can it be, that Judge
Chandler, after his pledge to us at Chester, would be guilty of conduct
reflecting so deeply on his character as a man?”

“I am not wholly unprepared to believe the story myself,” replied the
chairman; “our young friend here may have his peculiarities; but I
consider him a thousand times more honest and honorable, than some of
those whose sly hints and treacherous conduct he has so well described.”

“Ditter, look here, Mr. Moderator,” interposed Dunning. “I was once,
ditter travelling, in the Bay State, with a friend, when we came across
a meeting-house with eight sides, and my friend asked me what order of
architecture I called it. Ditter well, I was fairly treed, and couldn't
tell. But I should be able to tell now. I should ditter call it the
Chandler order.”

A desultory but animated debate now arose. Various methods of
accomplishing what appeared to be the settled determination of all--that
of preventing the sitting of the court--were suggested. Some proposed
to dismantle or tear down the Court House; others were for arming
the people, seizing the building, and bidding open defiance to their
opponents. At this stage of the deliberations, Colonel Carpenter, whose
character had secured him great influence, rose, and requested to be
heard.

“From the gathering signs of the times,” said he, “we have good reason
to believe that the smouldering fires of liberty will soon burst forth
into open revolution throughout these oppressed and insulted colonies.
Our movements here may lead to the opening scene of the great drama;
and we must give our foes no advantages by our imprudence. If we are the
first to appear in arms, it may weaken our cause, while it strengthens
theirs. Let _them_ be the first to do this--let us place _them_ in the
wrong, and then, if they have recourse to violence and bloodshed, _we_
will act; and no fear but the people will find means to arm themselves.
Let us, therefore, go into the Court House to-morrow, in a body, but
without a single offensive implement, and resist peacefully, but firmly;
and then, if they dare make a martyr, his blood will do more for our
cause than would now a regiment of rifles.”

Although this prudent and far-sighted proposal was for a while opposed,
by the more ardent and unthinking part of the company, yet it was at
length adopted by the whole; and having made arrangements to carry it
into effect, the meeting broke up, and all retired to their respective
lodgings.




CHAPTER V.

  “Thou ever strong upon the strongest side”


Although many were the anxious consultations, and deep plottings,
among the belligerent parties within doors, during the fore part of the
memorable 13th of March, yet it was not till the afternoon of that day
had considerably advanced, that any indications of the events which
followed became observable in the streets of Westminster. About this
time, one of the doors of Crean Brush's guest-filled mansion suddenly
flew open, and the crouched and cringing form of our humble friend Barty
Burt, hotly pursued by his recent employer with uplifted cane, was seen
coming down the steps of the entrance, in flying leaps, to the ground.

“There, you infernal booby! please consider this caning and kicking as a
farewell to my house and employ forever!” exclaimed the enraged master,
standing in the door-way, and looking down with ineffable scorn upon the
prostrate person of the ejected Bart, as he lay sprawled out upon the
spot where he landed, without manifesting any disposition to rise.

“I should like to know what I've done criminal, squire?” responded the
latter, looking back over his shoulder at the other, with a doleful
grimace.

“What have you done?” sharply retorted Brush. “Why, you impertinent
puppy, you have done every thing wrong, and nothing right, ever since
you got your lubberly carcass out of bed, at the fine time of eight
o'clock this morning! and now, to crown all, in clearing off the table,
you must go, with your load of meats and half-filled gravy dishes,
through the parlor, where you had no business to go, and there, like
a blundering jackass, as you are, you must fall down and ruin the best
carpet in the house! I've had quite enough of you, sir: so up with you
there and clear out, you vagabond!”

“Well, I'spose I know what you want,” muttered Bart, by way of reply to
this tirade--“you want to accuse, and drive me away, so you won't have
to pay me the two crowns you owe me for work, and other things.”

“I don't owe you half that sum, you lying lout,” returned Brush,
fiercely. “But to get rid of such a pest, and prevent your going round
town with that lie in your mouth, I'll give you all you ask; and there
they are!” he continued, pulling out and disdainfully tossing the coins
down at the other's feet. “Your dirty rags, if you have any in the
house, shall be thrown out to you; and then, if you aint off, I'll set
the dogs on ye.”

With this, and an expressive slam of the door behind him, the secretary
returned into the house; and in a few moments, the sash of a garret
window was thrown up, and a pair of shoes, a pair of old summer
pantaloons, a spare coarse shirt, and pair of stockings, were
successively flung down into the yard, near where the owner was still
lying, by the hand of a grinning and blushing servant maid, while her
dainty-fingered master stood by, directing the operation,

“Well, Bart,” now soon began to mutter this singular being, in his usual
manner of addressing himself as a second person, when alone--“well,
Bart, your plan of getting driv away has worked to a shaving. You've got
your pay, too, jest in the way you calculated would fetch it; yes, all
your honest pay, and one crown more; but you charged that, you know,
when you told him two crowns, as damage for the kick and cane lick you
got. So that's settled. And as to the other accounts against him, and
the rest of 'em there, you'll be in a way to square all, fore long,
guess; for you will be your own rebel, now, Bart, you know.”

While thus communing with himself, he had slowly, and with many winces
of affected pain, gathered up his limbs, risen on to his feet, pocketed
his two crowns, and collected and tied up his clothes. And he was now,
with a grieved look, as if sorrowing for the loss of his home, looking
back to the house, where several curious, half-laughing, half-pitying
countenances were seen peering through the windows to witness his
departure. He then looked hesitatingly abroad, one way and then the
other, with the sad and despairing air of one who feels there is no
place in the wide world where he can find a friendly shelter. After
this, with a wince and groan at every step, he slowly hobbled off up the
street, losing his lameness, and converting his groans into snickers of
low, exulting laughter, as soon as he was out of eye-shot of the company
he had left behind him.

“Kinder 'pears to me, Bart,” he at length said, resuming his soliloquy,
as he glanced keenly at the tavern, which was the scene of his last
night's exploit, and which he was now passing--“'pears to me, there's
a good many heads rather close together in spots, round that tory nest
over yonder. They act as if they were in a sort of stew about something.
I wonder if they lost their guns last night, or anything, that puts them
in such a pucker,” he continued with a chuckle. “But suppose, Bart, as
going this way is only a sham, suppose we now haul up here, and edge
over there among 'em a little, to learn what they are up to, before you
go to join the company at the Court House.”

On reaching the yard of the tavern, Bart found that the company,
numbering perhaps twenty in all, had broken from the separate groups in
which they had been conversing, and had now gathered round one man, who,
having just come out of the tavern, appeared to be communicating to the
crowd something that obviously produced considerable sensation. This
person was a man of the ordinary size, of fair complexion, light
eyes, and an unsettled and vacillating countenance, rendered the more
strikingly so, perhaps, by the quick, eager, and restless motions
and manner by which his whole appearance was characterized. Bart soon
contrived to work his way into this circle, till he gained a position
from which he could hear what was said.

“You may rely on what I have told you,” said the speaker, as Bart came
within hearing; “for I have just had it from the sheriff and lawyer
Stearns. The rebels have been in possession of the Court House about an
hour, posted sentinels at all the doors, and openly declare, that the
judges and officers shall never enter to hold another court. Nobody
dreamed of their daring on such a bold step, or we should have been
before them in taking possession of the house, even with the force we
had on the ground. But, thinking it best to go strong-handed, the judges
concluded they would not go in to open the court till enough of friends
should arrive to put down all opposition at a blow. The rebels think
now, doubtless, that they have got an advantage which they will be able
to maintain. But they will find themselves a little mistaken, I fancy;
for Patterson says he has now got them in just the spot he wanted. This
act both he and Stearns decide to be overt treason, which will justify
him in taking the course he intends, unless they yield and scatter,
on the first summons. But as they won't do that, and our forces will
shortly be here, you can all guess what we shall now soon see follow,”
 he added, with a significant wink.

“Then why not be getting out our guns at once?” asked one of the
company.

“No,” resumed the speaker; “the plan is to leave that till the last
thing before we march upon them, lest the rebels should take alarm and
go and arm themselves, and we thus thwart our own intention of taking
them by surprise. You, however, can be kinder carelessly looking up
clubs for such as may have no arms, and a few axes and crowbars for
breaking into the Court House, if that should be necessary. But, as I
said, let the guns remain hid in the sleighs till you have orders to
take them out. For it is not exactly settled yet whether we shall march
upon them as soon as our reenforcements arrive, and besiege them in the
house, or coax them out, and so get possession ourselves. But, at any
rate, you will have work on hand soon; and if we don't see fun before
to-morrow morning, my name aint David Redding. But come, let's all
adjourn to the bar-room, and take a drop to warm us up a little.”

Leaving Redding to his despicable task of endeavoring, in compliance
with the directions of those whose base tool he was, to inflame the
company he had collected, and work up their feelings to such a pitch of
enmity and recklessness as should prepare them to imbrue their hands in
the blood of their neighbors and countrymen, we will now proceed to note
the conduct of more important personages in the events of the day.

While the scene above described was transpiring, Patterson, Gale,
Stearns, and one or two other tory leaders, who had been consulting at
this tavern, and making their arrangements for active movements, left
the house, and, with hasty steps, took their way to the mansion of the
haughty secretary, which, by his special invitation, at this crisis, was
made the permanent quarters of the judges and principal officers of the
court, as well as of his numerous guests.

“Upon the whole, perhaps you are right, Stearns,” said Patterson, as
they were about to enter the house. “We will start off Chandler to the
Court House to make one of his smooth speeches, and play Sir Plausible
with the rebel rascals, as agreed on last night, and though he should
have done it before, yet he may, even now, succeed in flattering them
to quit the house long enough for us to get possession; if not, we will
take the other course.”

In a few moments after these worthies had disappeared within the house,
the door was again opened, and Chief Justice Chandler, the man to whose
singularly compounded character, made up of timidity, selfishness,
vanity, thirst of power, kindness, and duplicity, or rather the conduct
that flowed from it, may be mainly attributed the bloody tragedy that
ensued, now made his appearance in the street. He wore a powdered wig,
according to the fashion of the times among men of his official station,
and his whole toilet had evidently been made with much attention.
Carelessly flirting a light cane in his hand, and assuming an air of
easy unconcern, he leisurely took his way along the street, towards the
Court House, bowing low, and blandly smiling to every one he met, and
often even crossing to the opposite side of the street to exchange
salutations with the passer-by, to each of whom, whatever his party or
station, he was sure to say something complimentary, and aimed with
no little sagacity to reach the peculiar feelings and interests of the
person addressed.

“This is Mr. French, I believe,” he said, turning out of his course to
speak to the young man introduced in the last chapter, who, with the
same restless, anxious look he then wore, was unobservantly hurrying by
the other, on his way to the Court House.

“Yes, yes, sir,” replied French, slightly checking his speed, and
looking back, with a half-surprised, half-vacant expression.

“Ay, I was sure I knew you,” rejoined the judge. “How are the times with
you, Mr. French? You will pardon my freedom, sir, but the great interest
I take in the success of our enterprising and intelligent young men like
yourself--But no matter now. I see you are in haste. I will not detain
you, sir. A very good day to you, Mr. French.”

“Well, upon my word, now, here is my friend Colonel Carpenter!” he again
exclaimed, as, turning from the person he had just saluted with such
poor success, his quick and wary eye caught sight of the gentleman
thus addressed coming up behind him. “Most happy to fall in with you,
colonel,” he continued, grasping and warmly shaking the hand of the
other. “How are your family, sir? Shall I confess it, colonel? I have
really sometimes greatly envied you.”

“Why so, sir?” asked Carpenter, with a little coolness.

“Envied you your well-deserved appellation--that of _Friend of the
People_, as they call you,” replied the judge.

“The people need a friend at this crisis, I think, sir,” responded the
unbought yeoman, with cold dignity.

“If there is one title that I should covet above all others,” resumed
the judge, without appearing to notice the drift of the other's remark,
“it would be the one I have named. What can be a more truly honorable
distinction? I have often regretted being so trammelled by my station on
the bench, as to prevent me from acting as I would otherwise like to do.
But a judge, you know, colonel, in party times, must not act openly on
any particular side.”

“He had better do that, however, than act _secretly_ on _all_ sides,”
 returned the other, with biting significance.

“O, doubtless, doubtless, sir,” rejoined the judge, with a forced
laugh, but with the air of one perfectly unsuspicious of any intended
personalities. “Yes, indeed. But, ah!” he continued, slightly motioning
towards the Court House, against which they had now arrived. “What have
we here? A public meeting?”

“Quite possible. At all events I think of going in myself,” said
Carpenter, quietly turning from the other into the Court House yard, but
soon pausing a little, though without looking round, to hear the remarks
which the other seemed intent on making.

“Indeed! Why, I had not heard of it, else I should have been pleased
to have dropped in. I came out, be sure, only for a little exercise,
but----”

Here he paused, in expectation that the other would speak; but finding
himself disappointed, and left alone in the street, he resumed his walk,
while his now unguarded countenance very plainly showed the disquiet
he felt at the rebuffs he had received in his attempts to conciliate
Colonel Carpenter, and obtain from him an invitation to go into the
meeting, which, in reality, it was his only object in coming out to
attend.

While digesting his mortification, and occupied in conjecturing how
he could have become an object of suspicion among the opponents of the
court party, as every thing now seemed to indicate, his attention was
again arrested by the sounds of approaching footsteps; and, looking
up, his eyes encountered the sarcastic countenance of Tom Dunning,
who, coming from an opposite direction, was also on his way to join the
company at the Court House.

“Ah, Mr. Dunning!” exclaimed the judge, starting from his reverie and
downcast attitude, while his face instantly brightened into smiles
summoned for the occasion; “right glad to meet you, sir. I have been
thinking I must engage some such expert and lucky sportsman, as they say
you are, to catch and send me up a fresh salmon, occasionally. I suppose
your never-failing spear will be put in requisition again, when the
spring opens; will it not?”

“Der--yes, your worship, unless I turn my attention to the
catching--ditter--eels, or other slippery varments,” returned the
hunter, with a sly, significant twinkling of his eyes, as he brushed by
the rebuked cajoler, and pushed on without waiting for a reply.

The judge did not pursue his walk much farther; but now, soon facing
about, began, with a quickened step and a look of increasing uneasiness,
to retrace his way to his quarters.

While those little incidents were occurring in the streets, about one
hundred sturdy and determined men had collected within the walls of the
Court House. As the construction of this building was somewhat peculiar,
for one designed for such purposes, it may be necessary, for a clear
understanding of the descriptions which follow, to say a few words
respecting its interior arrangements. The court-room was in the upper
story, which was all occupied as such, except the east and south
corners, that had been partitioned off for sleeping apartments. In the
lower story, there was a wide passage running through the middle of the
building, with doors at both ends; while the stairs leading up into the
court room faced the principal entrance, on the north-east side of the
house. After passing by the stairs, there was a small passage
leading from the large one, at right angles, and running back between
prison-rooms, whose doors opened into it. The part of this lower story,
on the opposite side of the main passage, consisted also of two rooms,
with doors opening into it, and an entry, or short passage, leading out
into the street. One of these rooms was used as a common, or bar-room,
and the other as a sort of parlor, being both occupied by the jailer and
his family.

Although there had been, for many weeks, a growing disposition among the
party here assembled to prevent the session of a court avowedly acting
under royal authority, and spurning all the recommendations of Congress,
yet there had been no settled intention among them to resort to any
other than the peaceful measures of petition and remonstrance, which
they believed would be sufficient to effect the desired result. It had
been decided, therefore, that the court should be permitted to come
together; when such representations and arguments were to be laid before
them, as could not fail, it was supposed, to convince any reasonable men
of the wisdom of listening to the voice of the people. But when, or,
the preceding evening, it was discovered, in the way before related, and
from other sources, that the people had been duped by the duplicity of
Chandler, and that it was the secret purpose of the court, in defiance
of all pledges to the contrary, to hold a full session, under the
protection of an armed force, the hitherto modest and quiet spirit
of patriotism was at once aroused among this resolute little band of
revolutionists, and they came to the bold determination, as we have
before seen, of seizing the Court House in advance of their opponents,
and holding it till their remonstrances should be heard and heeded.

This object, so far as respected the possession of the building, being
now obtained, the company proceeded to organize and make arrangements
for maintaining their advantage through the night. Their possession,
however, was not destined to remain long undisputed. In a short time
after they had begun to act, their new recruit, Barty Burt, who could
not forego his desire of remaining among the tories (where we left him
acting the unsuspected spy on their movements) till they should look
for their guns, that he might have the pleasure of witnessing their
discomfiture on discovering their loss, now arrived with news, that
the latter, as soon as they made the discovery that their arms had been
abstracted, were thrown into the greatest commotion; and that under
the direction of Patterson and Gale, both foaming with rage, they had
hastily collected all the offensive implements they could find, with the
avowed determination of making an immediate assault on their opponents
at the Court House. But notwithstanding this startling intelligence, no
one manifested the least disposition of quitting his post. And although
there was not a weapon of defence, beyond a cane, in the whole company,
yet they seemed none the less inclined to maintain their position in
consequence of the threatening aspect which the affair was beginning to
assume; but resolving, by acclamation, to keep possession of the house
till compelled by force of arms to relinquish it, they placed a few
strong and resolute men as guards at every door, and quietly awaited
the result. And they were not kept long in suspense. In a short time,
Patterson and his posse, armed with several old muskets, swords,
pistols, and clubs, made their appearance, and, with many hostile
manifestations, came rushing up within a few yards of the door.
Commanding a halt, the sheriff then, in a loud and arrogant tone,
summoned the company within to come forth and disperse. No voice,
however, was heard to respond to the summons. Gale, the clerk, then
proceeded, upon the intimation of the former, to read the king's
proclamation to the outward walls of the house, or the supposed
listeners within, with great form and solemnity.

“Ditter--dickins!” exclaimed Tom Dunning, after listening a moment to
the reading of the riot act, or proclamation, as it was usually called,
as, with several others, he stood just within the entrance. “Now I
wonder if they expect to rout a body of Green Mountain Boys with that
sort of--ditter--ammunition?”

“There!” fiercely cried Patterson, as the reader concluded his task.
“There, you d----d rascals, now disperse, or, by Heaven, I will blow a
lane through ye!”

“Only--ditter--hear that!” again remarked the hunter, contemptuously,
at the menace and profanity of the haughty officer. “Natural enough,
though, mayhap, for a bag of wind to blow, if it does any thing. He is
rather smart at--der--swearing, too, I think. But even at that, I guess
he would have to haul in his horns a little, if old Ethan Allen
was here, as I wish he was, to let off a few blasts of
his--ditter--damnations at him.”

Captain Wright, after a brief consultation with the other leaders, now
coming down from the court-room, opened the door, (Dunning and another
strong-armed man having hold of it to guard against a rush,) and
addressed the besiegers.

“Why is all this, gentlemen?” he said, in a respectful, but firm
manner. “Are you come here for war? _We_ are here for no such purpose,
ourselves. _We_ came with none other than peaceful intentions. And so
long as we can say that, and say, also, above all, that we have come
together with the approbation of the chief judge of your court, who has
promised us a fair hearing of our grievances; and so long as, in direct
violation of that judge's pledge to us, you appear here in arms, to
intimidate us, let me assure you, we shall not disperse under your
threats. We, however, will permit you to come in, if you will lay aside
your arms; or we will hold a parley with you as you are.”

“D----n your parley!” exclaimed Gale, furiously. “D----n the parley with
such d----d rascals as you are! I will hold no parley with such d----d
rascals, but by this!” he added, drawing a pistol, and brandishing it
towards his opponents.

“Ay! ay!” cried Redding, who, next to the sheriff and clerk, appeared
to be the most violent and officious among the assailants: “talk about
being here without arms, and for peace, do ye? when you have stolen
a dozen of our guns, and have now got them in there among you. Pretty
fellows, to talk about parley? We will give you a parley that will send
you all to hell before morning!”

Wright here began a denial of the charge made by the last speaker; when
he was interrupted by Dunning, who, jogging him said, in an undertone,--

“Let 'em-der--believe it. They are such--ditter--cowards, that the
idea of a dozen guns among us will mike 'em more mannerly than all the
preaching you could--ditter--do in a month.”

Concluding to profit by this suggestion of the sagacious hunter Wright
now retired within doors, followed by the hisses, curses and all manner
of abusive epithets, of the assailants.

The besiegers, now finding that the king's proclamation, on whose
potency for quelling the risings of the rebellious colonists the tory
authorities, at the commencement of the revolution, seemed to have
greatly counted, did not annihilate their opponents, and, not seeing fit
to attempt to carry their threats into execution at present, they soon
drew off a short distance, and apparently held a consultation. While
they were thus occupied, a small deputation was sent out to them from
the Court House, with another offer to hold a conference. But their
proposals being received with fresh insults and abuse, they returned to
the house, while Patterson and his forces, evidently fearing to venture
an attack, with their present strength, on the other party, whom
they suspected to be armed with the lost guns, now moved off
to head-quarters, to report progress, and wait for the expected
reenforcement, to hasten whose arrival, expresses had been despatched
several hours before.

A short time after the disappearance of Patterson's band. Judge Chandler
unexpectedly came up to the Court House, wholly unattended, and being
readily admitted, he at once ascended into the court-room, and entered
the somewhat surprised, but unmoved assembly, bowing low to individuals
on the right and left, as he passed on to an unoffered seat, with the
gratified air of one, who, after many detentions, has the satisfaction
of getting at length into the company of his friends.

After a rather embarrassing pause, the judge rose, and made a short
speech, which left his hearers but little the wiser respecting his real
wishes and intentions, though he had much to say about his solicitude
for the welfare of the people, and his anxiety that they should do
nothing to injure their cause. After he was seated, Wright, Carpenter,
and Knowlton, each in turn, addressed him, stating, in general terms,
the views and wishes of their party, and reminding him of his pledge,
that no arms should be brought by the officers of the court, the recent
violation of which they hoped he would be able to explain.

Upon this, the former rejoined, declaring with great assurance, and not
a little to the surprise of many in the room, that the arms complained
of had been brought without his knowledge and against his express
wishes; and he concluded by assuring his friends, as he said he was
proud to believe he might safely call them, that he would go and
immediately secure the arms in question; so that the company might now
retire, in full confidence that their petitions would obtain a fair
hearing, when the court came together the next morning. The speaker then
resumed his seat, and glanced persuasively around him for some tokens
of assent or approbation. But the men, whom he had thus undertaken
to wheedle, had been taught by experience to heed the caution so well
recommended by the tuneful Burns,--

  “Beware the tongue that's smoothly hung,”--

and a chilling silence was the only response that greeted him.

“You hear his honor's remarks,” observed the chairman, at length
breaking the ominous silence. “Have you any propositions to make before
the judge retires?”

Another long interval of deep silence ensued; when Tom Dunning's tall,
sinewy form, and sharp, bronzed features, screwed up with an expression
of sly mischief, was seen rising from a back seat in the room.

“Seeing no one else,” he said, “seems--ditter--disposed to accept your
invitation, Mr. Moderator, I don't--ditter--know but I will make a small
proposition on the occasion. Now, as I take it, we are to remain here
to-night; and as we have now learned that the judge and the people here
are the--ditter--best of friends, I would just move, Mr. Moderator, that
his honor be--der--ditter--invited to take up lodgings with us in the
Court House to-night, so that, if the enemy comes,” he added, imitating
the manner of the judge, as described by Bart, “he can assist us
to--ditter--'_temporize--temporize--till_'--”

Here the hunter bobbed down into his seat, while explosive bursts of
laughter rose from several parts of the room, and a low, half-smothered
titter ran through the whole assembly, at this sly, but cutting allusion
to the part last night taken by the double-dealing judge, who now sat
before them, looking, for the moment, like a suddenly detected criminal.
He, however, while the chairman was calling to order, recovered his
command of countenance, and, by the time the tumult had subsided into
the less noisy expressions of mirth, he was smiling as gayly as the
rest, and affecting to consider the remarks of the stammering humorist
as merely a pleasant joke.

“There is no cheating our friend Dunning out of his joke. I perceive,”
 he said, rising and taking up his hat; “and, indeed, I don't know that
I can blame a hardy woodsman for laughing at the idea of one of our
in-door and tender professional men, like myself, sleeping on floors and
benches. I am afraid we deserve it for our effeminacy. Yes, yes, a good
joke, truly! and a good laughter-moving joke is an excellent thing to
go to bed upon, they say,” he added, as with a merry, gleeful look, he
bowed himself out of the assembly.

No further comments were offered by any of the company upon the
communications of this official double-dealer, after his departure; for
all seemed to think that the single shot of Dunning had rendered all
further comments on his speech, and his motives in coming there to make
it, entirely superfluous. And they therefore proceeded, as if nothing
but an ordinary interruption had occurred, to the business on which they
were engaged when the judge came in--that of passing some fresh resolves
expressive of their determination to hold the Court House in defiance of
the threats of their opponents, and of their now settled purpose of
no longer submitting, on any conditions, to the continuance of a court
which had proved itself so corrupt and treacherous. After this, and
making arrangements for the posting and relieving of guards at the doors
for the night, a part of the company left the house to seek lodgings
elsewhere, as the usual hour of rest had now arrived.

When the nonplused and disconcerted Chandler left the Court House,
he rapidly took his way back to his quarters, from which he had been
started out by Patterson and Gale, to see if he might not be able
to accomplish by fair words what they had failed to effect by foul.
Although he had put the best possible face upon the mortifying
occurrence he had just been compelled to meet, and had made, as he
believed, a handsome exit from the company, yet he felt keenly conscious
that he had not only utterly failed in the object of his visit, but
that much of his late base conduct was known. He perceived this in
the allusions of Dunning, the pith of which he had affected not to
understand. He had seen it, he had felt it, in the significant and
knowing glances that had been exchanged on every side around him, and
especially in the bitter derisive laugh that had assailed his tingling
ears. He had also been taught a new lesson in the interview! He had
seen, in the firm manner and determined looks of those he had been
confronting--he had seen that which told him of a spirit at work among
the people, that the loyal party, with all their boasted strength, might
not long be able to quell. He began now, with the instinctive sagacity
of the true office-seeker, to perceive the possibility, perhaps
probability, that the power of dispensing office and patronage was about
to change hands, and he inwardly trembled for his own safety. He
found himself, in short, in one of those straits, to which men of his
character are not unfrequently reduced--that of being wholly at a loss
to decide which side was most likely to become the strongest. Could he
have foreseen and decided this, his mind would have been comparatively
at ease; for he could have then trimmed his sails, so as to steer clear
of the political breakers which he knew were somewhere ahead. Some
course, however, he must decide upon; and after lamenting his inability
to pierce the future, so far as to know which party was destined to
prevail, and thus secure the important advantages that might be derived
from shaping his present course accordingly, he at length resolved to
keep aloof, at present, from both parties, believing he had so adroitly
managed thus far, that whichever side might triumph, he could put in a
specious claim of having acted with it, in reality, from the first.

And having now made up his mind to this course, he avoided meeting the
tory leaders again; and, seeking out a safe messenger, and sending him
to tell them, that “he had left the company at the Court House as he
found it,” and that “a forgotten business engagement had compelled him
to be absent from their councils for a few hours,” he took his way to
a distant part of the village, where he called on an acquaintance of
neutral politics. And here becoming much engaged in conversation,
and feigning to have forgotten the hour of the night, he was at last
prevailed on to accept, as he did with great seeming reluctance, the
invitation of his host to tarry till morning.

After Patterson and his minions retreated from the Court House,
they returned to the tory tavern, and there remained several hours,
alternately cursing their opponents for rebellious obstinacy in not
yielding to their commands and menaces, and their expected friends for
their tardiness in reaching the place. And affairs remaining in this
situation till a late hour in the evening, they were on the point of
giving up all thoughts of renewing the attack that night, when the long
and anxiously looked for reenforcement, consisting of thirty or forty
armed men, came hurrying on to the ground. The sinking spirits and
waning courage of the blustering sheriff and his confederates now
instantly revived; and, exulting that they now had the power to glut
their vengeance, they resolved on making an immediate assault. And after
fortifying their courage with liberal potations of brandy, the whole
party, now swelled, not only by the freshly arrived forces, but by
Brush, Peters, Stearns, and many others, who had declined joining in the
first sally, to nearly one hundred men, eagerly set forward to the scene
of action.

The other party, in the mean time, though still maintaining a watchful
guard at the doors of the Court House, had yet been so long exempted
from an attack of their foes, that they were now in but little
expectation of being any further molested till the next morning. And
some were lying stretched upon the benches in the court-room, asleep;
some, with their great-coats under their heads, were reposing on the
floors of the different passages of the house; while others were sitting
round the fires, engaged in smoking and conversation.

Among those taking their turns as sentries, at this juncture, were
Woodburn and Bart, who, with each a stout cane or cudgel in his hand,
were now stationed at the principal entrance.

“They are coming!” cried Bart, who, having gone out into the street to
ascertain what might be the noise which they had heard at a distance,
now came running up, with an excited air to his companion; “they are
upon us again, with twice as many men as before, and plenty of guns!”

“In with the news!” said Woodburn, as the appearance of the hostile
party wheeling up towards the Court House the next instant confirmed the
other's statement--“in with the news, and tell them to man the doors, or
in two minutes we shall be routed.”

Instantly springing into the door, which he unfortunately left open,
Bart made the announcement to French, who was restlessly moving about
in the passage, and who repeated the same in a voice which started all,
both above and below to their feet.

“They are coming for our blood!” he added, in a tone of strange, wild
glee. “Ay, there they come! I see them levelling their guns in the yard!
Now for the victims! Let us die like----”

The report of two or three muskets, and the whistling of bullets through
the passage just over his head, cut short the speaker. A moment of
breathless silence ensued; when the harsh, ruffian voice of Patterson
was heard from without,--

“Damn ye, why don't you fire?”

A general discharge of the fire-arms of the assailants, flashing
fiercely on the surrounding darkness, and sending them deadly missiles
through the passage, windows, and sides of the house, in every
direction, instantly followed the ferocious order. And, in the expiring
light, the fated French was seen to leap into the air; and then,
spinning giddily round and round an instant, fall, with a low, short
screech, prostrate on the floor; while mingled groans, rising from a
half dozen others along the passage, told also the fearful effect of the
murderous volley.

With the discharge of their arms, the assailing force, guided by their
torch-bearers, made a rush for the Court House. As they approached the
door, Woodburn, who had kept his post, unhurt, on one side of the steps,
sprang forward to dispute their passage, and, after knocking up the
swords and bayonets that were aimed at his breast, laid about him so
lustily with his cudgel, that the whole party were, for some moments,
kept at bay. At length, however, Peters, who was near the rear of the
hostile column, perceiving it was his hated opponent who was disputing
the pass so resolutely, stealthily crept round those in front, and
coming up partly behind his intended victim, with a protruded sabre,
aimed a deadly lunge at his body, exultingly exclaiming with the
supposed fatal thrust,--

“There! d----d rebel, take that!”

“And you that!” cried the other, who, having, from a lucky turn in his
body at the instant, received only a flesh-wound on the inner side of
his arm, now, with an upward sweep of his cudgel, knocked the sword of
the detestable assassin twenty feet into the air--“and you that! ay, and
that!” he added, as, with a quickly repeated blow over the head, he sent
his foe reeling to the earth.

But the weapon of the intrepid young man being now caught, and his body
fiercely grappled by four or five of his exasperated foes, he was soon
disarmed, and, in spite of his desperate struggles, borne into the
court-house with the crowd, who now rushed furiously along the passages,
wounding with their swords, and beating down with their guns and clubs,
without distinction or mercy, all whom they met in their way.

“Guard the doors instantly!” shouted Patterson, who perceived that
numbers of the vanquished party were retreating through the different
doors; “don't let another of the d----d rascals escape! And, hallo
there, jailer! bring on the keys of the prison-rooms; we will cage the
whole lot, dead or alive, and let 'em be enjoying a few of the fruits
of their rebellion now, and the blessed anticipations of being hung for
high treason hereafter.”

The obsequious jailer soon appeared with the required keys and the
doors of both prison-rooms were speedily unlocked and thrown open by the
directions of the sheriff.

“Now, tumble them in, boys!” resumed the sheriff, with look and tone of
savage exultation.

Eager to obey, the supple tools of arbitrary power now commenced driving
all those of their prisoners who had not been too much disabled by their
wounds to stand, together into the prison-rooms. They then seized hold
of the wounded, who lay weltering in their blood in different parts of
the floor of the long passage, and began dragging them along by their
limbs to the same destination.

“Monster!” exclaimed Woodburn, looking back from the felon's cell which
he was about to enter, and addressing Redding, who stood mimicking, with
fiendish glee, the groans and contortions of French, as he lay gasping
and writhing in mortal agony on the spot where he fell, just beyond the
short passage dividing the prison-rooms--“monster,” he repeated, “would
you insult the dying?”

“Yes, d--n you!” savagely interposed Gale, stepping forward; “he has got
just what he deserved; and I wish there were forty more of you in
the same predicament. Drag him along in there with the rest of 'em,
Redding!”

“Ay, ay,” responded Patterson, “in with him! And I can tell the rest of
them, they had better be saving their pity for themselves, for they will
all be in hell before to-morrow night!”

It is needless to say that this brutal order was promptly obeyed. And
when the dying and insensible victim, pierced through head and body, and
all the wounded, had been drawn in and thrown promiscuously together,
on the cold, damp floors of the prison-rooms, the keys were turned upon
them; and their remorseless butchers, making not the least provision
for the sufferers, by way of medical aid or otherwise, returned, after
posting a strong guard at the doors, to the tavern or the house of
Brush, to celebrate their victory in a drunken carousal.




CHAPTER VI.

  “The brand is on their brows,
     A dark and guilty spot;
   'Tis ne'er to be erased,
     'Tis ne'er to be forgot.”


Whatever may be the result of the present public movement for the
abolition of capital punishment, and however far future experiments may
go towards establishing the expediency and safety of such a change in
criminal jurisprudence, the history of every nation and people will
show, we believe, the remarkable fact, that ever since Cain stood before
his Maker with his hands reeking with the blood of his murdered brother,
and his heart so deeply smitten with the consciousness of having justly
forfeited his own life by taking the life of another, that he could not
divest himself of the belief that all men would seek to slay him, no one
principle has been found to be more deeply implanted in the human breast
than the desire to see the wilful shedding of blood atoned for by
the blood of the perpetrator. So strong, so active, and so impelling,
indeed, seems this principle, that no sooner goes forth the dread tale
of homicide, than all community rise up, as one man, instinctively
impressed with the duty of hunting down the guilty and bringing them
to justice; while the guilty themselves seem no less instinctively
impressed with the abiding consciousness that the doom, which heaven and
earth has decreed to their crimes, must inevitably overtake them.

Deep and fearful was the excitement, in the hitherto quiet and peaceful
village of Westminster, as from mouth to mouth, and house to house,
spread the startling intelligence, that a meeting of unarmed citizens,
assembled at the Court House, had been assailed, and numbers shot down
in cold blood by the minions of British authority. The whole town was
soon in commotion. No loud noise or clamor of voices, it is true, was
heard proclaiming the deed on the midnight air; but the rapid footfalls
of men hurrying along the streets, the hastily exchanged inquiry, the
eager, suppressed tones of those conversing in small groups at the
corners and by-places around the village, the hasty opening and shutting
of doors, and the dancing of lights in every direction, gave ominous
indication of the feeling that had every where been awakened, and the
secret movement which was everywhere afoot among the people.

A small band, who had gathered in the yard of what was called the
People's Tavern, were listening, with many a demonstration of horror and
indignation, to the account of one who had escaped from the Court House
after the tories had got possession.

“Where are our leaders, Morris?” asked one of the listeners, as the
speaker, a fluent, energetic young man, closed his recital of the
atrocities he had witnessed. “Did they escape, or are they among the
wounded and prisoners?”

“Wright and Carpenter had gone off before we were attacked,” was the
reply, “the rest, not among the wounded I have named escaped in the
confusion, I think, except Dr. Jones, of Buckingham, who was driven into
the felon's hole with other prisoners; and it may be well that he was,
perhaps, as those bloodthirsty brutes would have suffered no surgeon to
be sent for to attend those who are not past help.”

“And Tom Dunning, whose rifle we shall need,--what became of him?”

“He got out in the same manner I did. We stood in a dark corner, at
the head of the stairs, taking note of the proceedings below; when that
crafty little chap, that joined us from Brush's, came wriggling like an
eel out from between the legs of the crowding tories, in the passage;
and, working himself up stairs unnoticed, in the same way, beckoned us
to follow him, as we did, into the court-room, where, at his suggestion,
we stripped off the sheets of a bed, in one of those corner sleeping
cuddies, made a rope, and by it let ourselves down through a window to
the ground in the rear of the house; when we separated, Dunning going
home, as he said, to arm himself. But here he comes,” added the speaker,
peering out towards the street, from which several forms were dimly seen
approaching--“here he comes, and those just behind him I should judge to
be Carpenter and Fletcher, by their gait.”

“Well, Dunning,” asked one of the company, as the hunter came striding
up to the spot, “what is your response to all this?”

“Der-sixty bullets, and a--ditter--pound of powder!” was the stern and
significant reply of the other, as with one hand he struck his rattling
bullet-pouch and huge powder-horn, and with the other brought down the
breech of his rifle with a heavy blow upon the ground.

“That's the man for me!” exclaimed Fletcher, now coming up with
Carpenter.

“Ay, Dunning is right!” said Carpenter, with emphasis. “If we hold our
peace now, the very stones will cry out for vengeance. But talking is
only a small part of what must be done. We must act. And first of all,
this tale of murder and outrage must instantly be thrown upon the
four winds of heaven, and carried into every town in this part of the
settlement. Who will volunteer to ride express with the news?--news
which, if I know anything of the spirit of the great mass of our people,
will be taken as a call to arms, and responded to accordingly.”

Several eager voices announced their readiness to start off at once on
the proposed mission.

“Follow me to the stables, then,” resumed the stanch patriot, hastily
leading the way to the barn, and throwing open a stable door. “There!”
 he continued, pointing to a pair of large, active-looking brutes,
feeding together in one stall--“there are my two horses--take them. Let
one of their riders go north, the other south; and spare no horse-flesh
of mine in an emergency like this; but ride and rally, till you have
sent the bloody tale to every house and hut this side the mountains.
And you, Morris and Dunning, accompany me to Captain Wright's. More
messengers must be despatched west and east, into the borders of New
Hampshire, and much other business done before morning.”

A far different scene, in the mean while, was in progress among the
inmates of the loyal mansion, which we have before described, and which
was destined to give shelter that night to the last conclave of royal
office-holders ever known in the Green Mountains. Although the leaders
of the court party had returned from the sanguinary scene they had
enacted, in high exultation at the decisive victory they supposed they
had achieved over their despised opponents, yet neither their own vain
boastings, nor the deeply-quaffed wines of their host, could long keep
up their spirits. Conscience soon began to be busy among them; and their
hearts waxed faint and fearful at the thought of what they had done.
They instinctively drew close together, conversed in subdued tones, or
sat uneasily listening to the sounds that occasionally reached them from
without. And whatever they might have said to keep up their own and each
other's courage, it soon became apparent that secret misgivings, fears,
and forebodings of a coming retribution had taken possession of their
guilt-smitten bosoms.

And there was another person in that house, to whom the tragical events
of the night brought deep disquietude; but it was a disquietude of quite
a different character from that which was experienced by the troubled
wretches we have named: that person was the _Tory's Daughter_--the pure,
guileless, and nobleminded Sabrey Haviland.

Having been apprised of the intention of Patterson and his confederates
to make an assault upon their opponents as soon as the expected
reinforcements arrived, her anxieties on the subject had prevented her
from retiring to rest, as her less concerned companion did, at the
usual hour. And when the startling report of fire-arms broke upon the
stillness of the night, she was not, like many others in the village, at
loss to know the cause; and her fears led her to divine but too well
the fatal result. And after an interval of painful suspense, which was
terminated by the return of the tory leaders to the house, she stole
softly out of her chamber to the head of the stairs, and there listened
with mingled emotions of horror and disgust to the boastful recital of
their sanguinary deeds, as given by the heartless Gale and others, to
her father and Judge Sabin, who had remained in the house, but who, she
perceived with sorrow, were warm approvers of all that had been done.
But, as revolting to her gentle nature as was the general description of
the event, the particulars the exulting narrators soon proceeded to give
were much more so. And when she heard them relate the affray between
Woodburn and Peters, and heard the latter, while making light of his own
hurts, boast that he had first given the other a thrust with his sword
through the body, which must finish him before morning; she could listen
no longer, but, hastily retiring to her room, she walked the apartment
for nearly an hour in the deepest agitation and distress.

Among the many excellent traits of Miss Haviland's character, a lively
sense of right and wrong, together with a deep and abiding love of truth
and justice, unquestionably predominated. So strong and controlling,
indeed, was this principle in her bosom, that it exhibited itself in
all her conversation, and seemed to be the governing motive of all her
actions. And when she had once discovered the truth and the right, at
which she appeared to arrive with intuitive quickness, no wheedling or
sophistry could blind her to their force; and no inducements could be
offered sufficient to cause her to waver in their support. And yet this
peculiar trait, as deeply seated as it was, and as firmly as it was ever
exercised, was so beautifully tempered by the benevolence of her heart,
the equanimity of her mind, and the engaging sweetness of her demeanor,
that it never seemed to impart the least tinge of arrogance to her
character, or harshness to her manners. On the contrary, she was all
gentleness and devotion, and ever ready to comply with the wishes of
others, when a compliance did not contravene, in her opinion, any of the
principles of even-handed justice; and, in case she felt bound to refuse
to yield to their requests, her refusal was made and maintained with
such mild firmness, that none could be offended, none feel inclined
to charge her with obstinacy or perverseness. She was at this time
the mistress of her father's household, her exemplary and intellectual
mother having several years before deceased, and her elder and only
sister, the year previous, married one of the leading loyalists of
Guilford. And it had been mainly through the influence of this sister
and her husband, that she had been induced, the preceding fall, to
take the step which was destined to cause her years of sorrow and
perplexity--that of engaging herself in marriage to Peters. She had
found few or no opportunities of studying this man's character,
having known him only as a parlor acquaintance, of easy manners and
considerable intelligence. And although she saw nothing particularly
objectionable in him, and although she knew that, in point of wealth and
family distinction, he was considered what is termed a desirable match,
yet she had entered into the engagement with many misgivings, and in
compliance rather with the wishes of her friends above named, seconded
by the urgent request of her father, than in accordance with the
dictates of her own judgment and inclination. But whatever her doubts at
that time, or during the months immediately following, they had not been
sufficient to disturb the usual even tenor of her feelings, till she
left home on her present excursion, during which, as already intimated,
she had seen the character of her affianced in a new light--a light
which showed him to be possessed of traits as abhorrent to her feelings,
as, to her mind, they were base and reprehensible in themselves. And
now, to crown all, he had, by an act of deliberate, private malice, even
according to his own account, inflicted a mortal wound on the victim of
his former injuries--the man who, but the day before, had snatched her,
whom the other professed to hold as the highest object of his earthly
solicitude, from a watery grave. It was these painful reflections that
were now agitating her bosom; for the more she pondered upon the
conduct of Peters, the more did her heart reject and despise him; and in
proportion as her feelings rose up against him were her sympathies drawn
towards his victim, Woodburn, whose noble act had created so strong a
claim upon her gratitude, and whose character and appearance had alike
awakened her interest and admiration.

“Is it indeed thus,” she at length uttered, as if summing up the
thoughts that had been passing through her mind, “that he who saved my
life, at the risk of his own, must die by the hand of one who should
have been the first to thank and reward him? Ay, and die, too, without
receiving from me, or mine, one word of acknowledgement, even, of the
service he so nobly rendered? perhaps the thought of our ingratitude
is now embittering his dying moments! Can I, should I suffer this so to
remain?”

Here she relapsed into silence, and, slowly resuming her walk round the
room, seemed for a while immersed in anxious thought; when she suddenly
paused, and, after a moment of apparent irresolution, stepped to
the wall, and gave two or three pulls at the wire connected with the
servants' bell in the kitchen. In a few minutes the summons was answered
by the appearance of the chamber-maid.

“Will you go down to the gentlemen's sitting-room,” said Miss Haviland,
“ask out my father, and tell him I would see him a moment in my own
room?”

The girl disappeared, and, in a short time, Esquire Haviland, with a
slightly disturbed and anxious air, entered the room, and said,--

“What's the matter, Sabrey? Are you sick to-night, that you are yet up
and send for me?”

“O, no,” replied the other; “nothing of that kind led me to send for
you, but my wish to make a request which I was unwilling to delay.”

The squire cast a somewhat surprised and inquiring look at his daughter,
but remained silent, while the latter resumed:--

“You recollect that this morning, after apprising you of the extent of
our obligations to Mr. Woodburn, about which you seem to have been so
misinformed, I suggested that a personal acknowledgment, with offers of
some more substantial token of our gratitude, should be immediately made
to him. Has this been done?”

“No,” replied he, with a gathering frown: “having understood the fellow
was assorting with the rebels in their treasonable plots, I did not feel
myself bound to seek him in such company Is that all you wish of me?”

“It is not, sir,” she answered seriously, and with the air of one
determined not to be repulsed. “I have accidentally become apprised that
Mr. Woodburn, in the affray of to-night, has been dangerously wounded,
and, in this condition, thrust into prison. And, as we have now an
opportunity of testifying our sense of his services, it is my earnest
request that you procure his release from prison, for which your
influence here, I know, is sufficient; that he may be brought out
to-night and properly attended.”

“Insane girl!” muttered the father, angrily, “what can have put that
absurd project into your head? Had you been abed hours ago, as
you ought, instead of being up and prying into the doings of our
authorities, with which a woman has no concern, I should have been
spared this exhibition of folly. Why, the wretched fellow is but
receiving the just deserts of his crimes. He is in prison for high
treason; and had I the will, which I have not, I could not procure his
release.”

“I cannot believe these opposers of the court will be held to answer
for such a crime. Indeed, it has occurred to me that the authorities
themselves may be called to account for firing upon these unarmed men;
and therefore I still hope you will use your exertions for Woodburn's
release,” urged the fair pleader.

“You are to be the judge what is treason, then, hey? And you are
ready to side with these daring and desperate fellows and condemn our
authorities, are you? What assurance! You will hardly persuade me to
favor your mad projects, I think,” harshly retorted the bigoted old
gentleman.

“You can, at least, go to the prison and return him the acknowledgments
which our character and credit require of us,” still persisted the
former.

“Well, I shall do no such thing,” replied the other, with angry
impatience; “for I consider the fellow's conduct tonight has wholly
absolved me from my obligations to him, if I was ever under any,” he
added, rising to depart.

“I do not view it so, father,” returned the unmoved girl, in a mild,
expostulating tone, “and I am sorry for your decision; for, if those
whose place it more properly is to do this, refuse to perform it, I know
not why I should not myself undertake the duty.”

“You!”

“Yes, father.”

“What, to-night?”

“Certainly; another day may be too late.”

“Madness and folly! Why, who is to attend you, silly girl?”

“If no gentleman is to be found with courtesy enough to attend me, I
shall not hesitate to go alone, sir.”

“We will see if you do!” exclaimed the old gentleman, looking back from
the entrance at the other, with an expression of scornful defiance--“we
will see if you do, madam!” he repeated, closing the door after him, and
turning the key on his daughter, whom he thus left a prisoner in her own
room.

As Miss Haviland listened to the springing bolt and her father's
departing steps, a slight flush overspread her face at the thought of
the indignity thus put upon her, and she rose, and, after putting her
hand to the door to assure herself that she was not mistaken, proceeded,
with a calm, determined air, to a table on one side of the room, on
which stood the materials for writing; and here, taking pen and paper,
she seated herself, and addressed a brief note to Woodburn, delicately
expressing her sense of obligation to him, and concluding with the
hope that she might soon have it in her power to do something
towards alleviating his present situation. Having signed, sealed, and
superscribed the billet, she rose and stood some time hesitating and
irresolute.

By what means could this note, now it was written, be made to reach its
destination? Should she again summon the chamber-maid, she presumed her
father had so managed that the call would not be answered; besides, she
felt a repugnance to the thought of resorting to such means. What other
method could then be devised?

While thus casting about her for some expedient for effecting her
purpose, she thought she heard some one placing a ladder against the
side of the house, beneath a window, opening from the rear end of
the passage adjoining her room; and, after listening a moment, she
distinctly heard the person cautiously ascending. Not being of a timid
cast, she quickly removed the thick, heavy curtains of the window in
her room next and very near the one under which the unknown intruder was
mounting the ladder, and, throwing up the sash, peered out; when, to her
surprise, she beheld, and at once recognized, the queer-looking figure
of Barty Burt, standing on the top round of the ladder, scratching
his head, and giving other tokens of embarrassment at being thus
unexpectedly caught in this situation.

“Master Bart,” said Miss Haviland, who had become somewhat acquainted
with the other, while supplying her room with fuel, previous to his
ejection from the house, to which she was knowing, “your appearance, at
this time, to say the least of it, causes me much surprise.”

“I returns the compliment, miss,” replied Bart; “so that makes us even,
and no questions on ither side, don't it?”

“Perhaps not, sir,” returned the former, with seriousness: “at all
events, you should be able to give a good reason for your appearance
here, under such circumstances: please explain your object.”

“And if I don't, you will sing out for the squire, you said? Well, I can
get down, and off, before he can get here, I reckon,” responded Bart, in
a tone of roguish defiance.

“I did not say I would call Esquire Brush; but, unless you explain----”

“Yes, yes, jest as lieves as not, and will, if you'll keep shut til I
can run up garret and back.”

“Your purpose there, sir?”

“An honest one--only to get my gun up there, which the squire didn't
have put out for me, when he dismissed me with his high-heeled shoes,
to-day, and which I darsent name then, fear he'd have that thrown
down, like my 'tother duds, and break it--only that--and if you'll say
nothing, and let me whip in, and up to get it, I'll lay it up against
you, as a great oblige, to be paid for, by a good turn to you some time,
miss.”

“If that is all, go--and I may wish to speak with you when you come
back.”

So saying, she gently let down the sash, and, withdrawing a little from
her window, stood awaiting the result; when she soon heard the other,
with the light and stealthy movements of a cat, enter the house, and
ascend into the garret, through a small side-door, opening from the
passage we have named. Scarcely a minute had elapsed before she again
heard his footsteps stealing back by her door to the window, through
which he had so noiselessly entered; when, once more raising the sash of
her own, she found him already standing on the top of the ladder where
she last saw him, he having effected his ingress and egress with such
celerity, that but for the light fusil he now held in his hand, she
would have believed herself mistaken in supposing he had entered at all.

“Well, miss, I am waiting for your say so,” he said, in a low tone,
peering warily around him.

“Have you been to the Court House to-night?” hesitatingly asked the
other.

“Well, now,” replied Bart, hesitating in his turn, “without more token
for knowing what you're up to, I'll say, may be so and may be no so.”

“You need not fear me, Bart,” replied Sabrey, conjecturing the cause
of his hesitation; “I am no enemy of those who have suffered there
to-night. But do you know Mr. Woodburn?

“Harry, who got you out of that river scrape? Yes, lived in his town
last summer.”

“He is among the wounded and prisoners in jail, it is said?”

“Dreadful true, miss.”

“Could you get this small letter to him to-night?” she timidly asked.

“Yes, through the grate; glad to do it, glad of it, twice over,” replied
Bart, reaching out, and grasping the proffered billet.

“Why, why do you say that?” asked Sabrey, with an air of mingled doubt
and curiosity.

“Cause, in the first place, you'll now keep my secret of being here; and
nextly, glad to find there's one among the court folks that feels decent
about this bloody business. But I must be off. Yes, I'll get it to him,”
 said Bart, beginning to descend.

“Say, Barty. Is there any hope that Mr. Woodburn will survive his
wounds?”

“Survive? Live, do you mean? O, yes; though the lunge which that--But no
matter. It was well meant for the heart, and the fellow wan't at all to
blame that it didn't reach it, instead of the inner part of the arm.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Miss Haviland, in a tone of joyful surprise; which
the next instant, however, gave way to one of embarrassment. “Why,
I heard--have written, indeed, under the belief that--and
perhaps----Barty, I think, on the whole, I will not send that billet
now.”

As Bart heard these last words of the fair speaker, so inconsistent with
all which both her words and manner had just expressed, he looked up
with a stare of surprise to her face, now sufficiently revealed, by
the glancing light standing near her in the room, to betray its varying
expressions. But, as he ran his keen gray eyes over her hesitating and
slightly confused countenance, he soon seemed to read the secret cause
of her sudden change of purpose, arising from that curious and beautiful
trait in woman's heart, which, by some gush of awakened sympathy, often
unfolds all the lurking secrets of the breast, but which, when the cause
of that sympathy is removed, closes up the avenue, and conceals them
from view, in the cold reserve of shrinking delicacy--the colder and
more impenetrable in proportion as the disclosure has been complete.

“O, yes, I will carry it,” said Bart, pretending to misunderstand the
other, while he pocketed the billet and began to glide down the ladder.

“No,” commenced Miss Haviland; “no, Bart, I said----”

“Yes, yes, I will have it there in a jiffy,” interrupted Bart, hastening
his descent, and the next instant dodging away in the dark beneath the
foot of the ladder.

“Well, let it go,” said the foiled and somewhat mortified maiden to
herself, after the disappearance of her strange visitor. “If what I
expressed, when I thought him dying, was right and proper, it cannot be
very wrong now.”

As soon as she had thus reconciled herself to the unexpected turn which
this matter had taken, Miss Haviland now began to reflect more on Bart's
motives in coming, at such an hour of the night, for his gun; when it,
for the first time, occurred to her mind, that he had been induced to
take this step in consequence of some particular call for arms having
reference to the events of the evening. Fearing she might have done
wrong in suffering him to take away the gun, if it was to be used for
hostile purposes, and anxious to know whether her conjectures relative
to a rising of the people were well founded, she proceeded to an end
window of her room, which overlooked a range of buildings known to her
to be mostly occupied by the opposers of royal authority; and removing
the curtains and raising the sash, she leaned out and listened for any
unusual sounds which might reach her from without. And it was not
long before she became well convinced that her apprehensions were not
groundless. Some extraordinary movement was evidently going on in the
village. The low hum of suppressed voices, mingled with various sounds
of busy preparation, came up, on the dense night air, from almost every
direction around her. Here, was heard the small hammer, the grating
file, with the occasional clicking of the firelock, undergoing repairs
by the use of the instruments just named. There, could be distinguished
the pecking of flints, the rattling of ramrods, and the regularly
repeated rapping of bullet-moulds to disengage the freshly-cast balls.
In other places could be perceived the nasty movements of men about
the stables, evidently engaged in leading out and saddling horses, and
making other preparations for mounting; and then followed the sounds of
the quick, short gallop of their steeds, starting off, on express, in
various directions, under the sharply applied lashes of excited riders,
and distinctly revealing their different routes out of the village, by
the streams of fire that flew from their rapidly striking hoofs on
the gravelly and frozen ground. All, indeed, seemed to be in silent
commotion through the town. Bart's object in coming for his gun, at such
an hour of the night, was now sufficiently explained; for the quick and
discerning mind of Miss Haviland at once told her that the country was
indeed rising in arms to avenge the atrocities just committed by the
party among whom were all her relatives and friends; and she shuddered
at the thought of tomorrow, feeling, as she did, a secret and boding
consciousness that their downfall, brought about by their arrogance and
crimes, was now at hand.




CHAPTER VII.

  “A shout as of waters--a long-uttered cry:
   Hark! hark! how it leaps from the earth to the sky!
   From the sky to the earth, from the earth to the sea
   It is grandly reechoed, _We are free, we are free!_”


Every thing, the next morning, seemed as quiet and peaceful in the
village, as if nothing unusual had occurred there. The commotion of the
preceding night appeared to have wholly subsided. With such secrecy and
caution, indeed, had the revolutionists managed, that no knowledge of
their movements had yet reached the ears of any of their opponents. And
so guarded was their conduct, through the whole morning, that the court
party leaders, although their spies had early been out, prowling round
the whole village, were yet kept in entire ignorance of all that
had transpired among the former during the night. Being consequently
deceived by the false appearance which every thing within the reach of
their observation had been made to wear, and feeling thus relieved of
their last night's guilty fears of a popular outbreak, these cruel and
dastardly minions of royalty now counted on their triumph as complete,
and, soon giving way to noisy exultation, they began openly to boast
of the sanguinary measure by which their supposed victory had been
achieved. And, about nine o'clock in the forenoon, the judges and
officers of court, with a select number of their most devoted adherents,
all in high spirits, and wholly unsuspicious of the storm that was
silently gathering around them, formed a procession at the house of
Brush, and, attended by a strong armed escort, marched ostentatiously
through the street to the Court House, and entered the courtroom to
commence the session.

After the judges had been ushered to their seats, and while they were
waiting for the crowd to enter and settle in their places, Chandler, who
had kept aloof till the procession had begun to form, was seen to run
his wary and watchful eye several times over the assembly, to ascertain
whether there were any discoverable indications there pointing to any
different state of things from the one so confidently assumed by his
confederates, when he soon appeared to have noted some circumstance
which caused him suddenly to exchange the bland smile he had been
wearing for a look of thoughtfulness and concern.

“Do you notice anything unusual in the crowd this morning, Judge
Sabin?” he said to his colleague, in an anxious whisper as he closed his
scrutiny.

“No, your honor,” replied the other, “unless it be the cheering sight of
encountering none but friendly faces, instead of the hostile ones, which
a man would have been led to expect to meet here, after so much clamor
about popular disaffection.

“Ay,” responded the former, with a dubious shake of the head--“ay, but
that is the very circumstance that puzzles me. Had a portion of the
assembly been made up of our opponents, quietly mingling with the
rest, as I had rather hoped, I should have construed it into a token of
submission; or, had a committee been here to present a petition, or a
remonstrance or two, I should have been prepared for that, and could
have managed, by a little encouragement, and a good deal of delay, to
give every troublesome thing the go-by, till the storm had blown over.
But this entire absence of the disaffected looks a little suspicious,
don't it?”

“Why, no,” answered the stiff and stolid Sabin; “I can see nothing
suspicious about it. Indeed, it goes to show me that the rebellion is
crushed; for, as I presume, the honest but well-meaning part of the
rebels are ashamed, and their leaders afraid to show their faces here
to-day, after last night's lesson.”

“I hope it may be as you suppose; but I have my doubts in the matter,”
 returned Chandler, with another dissenting shake of the head, as he
turned away to renew his observations on the company before him.

On resuming his scrutiny, the uneasy judge soon perceived that the
assembly, during his conversation with his colleague, had received an
accession of several individuals, whom he recognized as belonging to
the party whose absence had awakened his suspicions. But the presence of
these persons, after he had carefully noted their appearance, instead
of tending to allay only went to confirm, his apprehensions; for, as
he closely scanned the bearing and countenance of each, and marked the
assured and determined look and covert smile which spoke of anticipated
triumph, attended with an occasional expectant glance through the
windows, he there read, with the instinctive sagacity sometimes seen in
men of his cast of character, enough to convince him, with what he
had previously observed, that a movement of a dangerous magnitude was
somewhere in progress, and soon to be developed against the court party.
And he instantly resolved to lose no time before trimming his sails and
preparing to meet the coming storm. And the next moment, to the surprise
of his colleague and the officers of the court, he was on his feet,
requesting silence that he might address the assembly. He then proceeded
to remark on the unfortunate occurrences of the previous night, with
a show of much feeling and regret, and concluded by expressing his
disapprobation of the course taken in the affair by the sheriff and his
abettors, in a manner that would have given the highest offence to all
implicated, had they not believed that the speech was secretly designed
only as a game on their opponents, whom he might think it expedient to
quiet and delude a little longer. They, therefore, winked knowingly to
each other, and remained silent; while the speaker sat down with the
mental exclamation,--

“There, let it come now! That speech will do to be quoted. I can refer
them to it as the public expression of my views before I knew what was
coming.”

Having thus placed himself in a position, as he believed, where he
could easily turn himself to meet any contingency,--where, in case the
apprehended overthrow of the court party took place, he could easily and
safely leap the next hour to a favorable, if not a high stand among
the new dispensers of place and power, or where, should the present
authorities be able to sustain themselves, he could as easily explain
away his objectionable doings, and retain his standing among them.
Having done this, he then turned his attention to the official duties
of his place, and ordered the crier to give the usual notice, that the
court was now open for business. This being formally done, the court
docket was called over, and the causes there entered variously disposed
of for the time being, by the judges, till they came to that of Woodburn
versus Peters; which was a petition for a new trial for the recovery of
the petitioner's alleged farm, that had been decided, at the preceding
term, to be the property of Peters, on the ground and in the manner
mentioned in a former chapter.

“Who answers for this Woodburn?” said Sabin, with a contemptuous air.
Significant glances were exchanged among the tory lawyers and officers
about the bar at the question, and a malicious smile stole over the
features of Peters, who had found a seat among them.

“I move the court,” said Stearns, the attorney of Peters, “for a
judgment in favor of my client for his costs, and also for a writ of
possession of his land, of which he has been so unjustly kept out by
this vexatious proceeding. And, as the petitioner has not entered his
appearance according to rule, whereby he tacitly admits that his cause
cannot be sustained, I will not permit myself to doubt that the court
will so order, even at this early hour--they certainly have the power to
do so.”

“They have also the power to postpone the hearing, even to the last day
of the term, before rendering judgment,” bluntly interposed Knights, a
large, plain-looking practitioner at the bar, who had taken no active
part either for or against the court party.

“We all know how this young man is debarred from appearing here to-day;
and it seems to me manifestly unjust that any power which deprives a man
of the opportunity of appearing at court, should render judgment against
him in consequence of his non-appearance. I would, therefore, suggest
a delay in this cause. Perhaps, within a short time, he will employ
counsel, or be liberated.”

“And perhaps be hung for treason,” said Stearns, in a sneering
under-tone.

“Do you answer for him or not, Mr. Knights?” demanded Sabin,
impatiently.

“No, your honor; he has not authorized me. I only made a suggestion,”
 answered the former.

“Then judgment must go for Peters,” rejoined Sabin, with ill suppressed
warmth. “Traitors and rebels must look somewhere else for favor, beside
this court, while I hold a seat here.”

“Nobody has yet been convicted of treason, I believe,” promptly
responded Knights, while an expression of indignant scorn flashed over
his manly and intelligent countenance; “and till such is the case, I
take it the rights of all have an equal claim on the court. I should be
pleased to hear the opinion of the chief justice in this matter.”

“Although I may have my doubts on this subject, Mr. Knights,” graciously
replied Chandler, “you could hardly expect me to be guilty of so great a
discourtesy to my colleague here, as to interfere, after the intimation
he has just given.”

“Make the entry, Mr. Clerk,” said Sabin, hastily; “judgment for costs,
and a writ of possession. _I_ am not troubled with any doubts in the
matter, and will take the responsibility of the decision.”

Scarcely was the cause thus decided before Peters glided up to the
clerk, and whispered in his ear; when the latter, nodding assentingly,
opened his desk, and taking out two nicely-folded papers, handed them
slyly to the other, who, receiving them in the same manner, immediately
left the court-room and proceeded down stairs. As the exulting suitor
passed through the crowd gathered round the main entrance, he beckoned
to a short, thick set, harsh-featured fellow, who immediately followed
him around a corner of the building.

“Well, Fitch,” said Peters, pausing as soon as they were out of the
reach of observation, “have you done up your business in town, so as to
be ready for a start for Guilford?”

“Yes; don't know but I have. But you can't have got your decision,
papers made out, and all, so soon as this?” replied the other.

“All complete!” returned Peters, triumphantly.

“Why, the court has not been in session an hour!”

“True, but I had spoken to Judge Sabin to have my case taken up this
morning; and, as nobody was authorized to answer for Woodburn, the case
was disposed of in a hurry. And the clerk, with whom I had also arranged
matters, had made out the papers before going into court, and got them
all signed off and ready, in anticipation; and here they are, ready for
your hands, Mr. Constable.”

“Ay, I see; but what is the necessity of serving them so immediately?”

“Why, there's no knowing what may happen, Fitch. If the rebels, in
revenge for last night's peppering, should send over the mountain for
old Ethan Allen and his gang to come here to stir up and lead on the
disaffected, all legal proceedings might be stopped. I know most of our
folks think, this morning, that the

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