Title: Elsie's Journey on Inland Waters
Author: Finley, Martha
Language: English
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     ELSIE'S JOURNEY
     ON INLAND WATERS

           BY

      MARTHA FINLEY

     [Illustration]

        NEW YORK
 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
       Publishers



    Copyright, 1895,

           BY

 DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY.

 _All rights reserved._



CHAPTER I.


After her return from the trip across the lake with the bridal party,
the _Dolphin_ lay at anchor near the White City for a week or more;
there were so many interesting and beautiful exhibits at the Fair still
unseen by them that Captain Raymond, his family, and guests scarce knew
how to tear themselves away.

At the breakfast table on the morning after their arrival, they, as
usual, considered together the question where the day should be spent.
It was soon evident that they were not all of one mind, some preferring
a visit to one building, some to another.

"I should like nothing better than to spend some hours in the Art
Palace, examining paintings and statuary," said Violet, "and I have an
idea that mamma would enjoy doing the same," looking enquiringly at
her mother as she finished her sentence.

"In which you are quite right," responded Grandma Elsie. "There is
nothing I enjoy more than pictures and statuary such as may be found
there."

"And I am sure your father and I can echo that sentiment," remarked
Mrs. Dinsmore, with a smiling glance at her husband.

"Very true, my dear," he said.

"Then that is where we shall go," said the captain.

"That includes your four children, I suppose, papa?" remarked Lucilla,
half enquiringly, half in assertion.

"Unless one or more of them should prefer to remain at home--here on
the yacht," he replied. "How about that, Neddie, my boy?"

"Oh, papa, I don't want to stay here! Please let me go with you and
mamma," exclaimed the little fellow, with a look of mingled alarm and
entreaty.

"You certainly shall, if you want to, my son," returned his father.
"I am happy to say that my little boy has been very good and given no
unnecessary trouble in visiting the Fair thus far. And I can say the
same of my little Elsie and her older sisters also," he added, with an
affectionate look from one to another.

"Thank you, papa," said Lucilla and Grace, the latter adding, "I think
it would be strange indeed should we ever intentionally and willingly
give trouble to such a father as ours."

"I don't intend ever to do that," said little Elsie earnestly, and with
a loving upward look into her father's face.

"I am glad to hear it, dear child," he returned, with an appreciative
smile.

"I, too," said her mother. "Well, we will make quite a party, even if
all the rest choose to go elsewhere."

The Art Palace was a very beautiful building of brick and steel; its
style of architecture Ionic of the most classic and refined type. It
was very large: 320 feet wide by 500 feet in length, with an eastern
and western annex, a grand nave and transept 160 feet wide and 70 feet
high intersecting it, and that surmounted by a dome very high and wide,
and having upon its apex a winged figure of Victory.

From this dome the central section was flooded with light, and here was
a grand collection of sculpture and paintings, in which every civilized
nation was represented, the number of pieces shown being nearly
twenty-five thousand. It was the largest art exhibition ever made in
the history of the world.

It was not strange, therefore, that though our friends had been in the
building more than once before, they still found an abundance of fine
works of art which were well worth attentive study, and as entirely new
to them as though they had been but just placed there.

Little Elsie was particularly attracted, and her curiosity was excited
by an oil painting among the French exhibits of Joan of Arc listening
to the voices.

"Is there a story to it?" she asked of her grandma, who stood nearest
to her at the moment.

"Yes, dear; and if you want to hear it, I shall tell it to you when we
go back to the _Dolphin_," was the kindly rejoinder, and the child,
knowing that Grandma Elsie's promises were sure to be kept, said no
more at the moment, but waited patiently until the appointed time.

As usual, she and Neddie were ready for a rest sooner than the older
people, and were taken back to the yacht by their father, Grandma Elsie
and Grace accompanying them, saying that they, too, were weary enough
to enjoy sitting down with the little folks for an hour or so.

"Oh, I'm glad grandma's going too!" cried Ned, and Elsie added, with a
joyous look, "So am I, grandma, but I'm very sorry you are tired."

"Do not let that trouble you, dearest," returned Mrs. Travilla, with a
loving smile. "You know if I were not tired I should miss the enjoyment
of resting."

"And there is enjoyment in that," remarked the captain; "yet I regret,
mother, that your strength is not sufficient to enable you to see and
enjoy all the beautiful sights here, which we may never again have an
opportunity to behold."

"Well, captain, one cannot have everything in this world," returned
Grandma Elsie, with a contented little laugh, "and it is a real
enjoyment to me to sit on the deck of the _Dolphin_ with my dear little
grandchildren about me, and entertain them with such stories as will
both interest and instruct them."

"Oh, are you going to tell us the story of that picture I asked you
about, grandma?" queried little Elsie, with a look of delight.

"What picture was that?" asked her father, who had not heard what
passed between the lady and the child while gazing together upon
Maillart's painting.

Mrs. Travilla explained, adding, "I suppose you have no objection to my
redeeming my promise?"

"Oh, no! not at all; it is a historical story, and I do not see that it
can do them any harm to hear it, sadly as it ends."

They had reached the yacht while talking, and presently were on
board and comfortably seated underneath the awning on the deck. Then
the captain left them, and Grandma Elsie, noting the look of eager
expectancy on little Elsie's face, at once began the coveted tale.

"The story I am about to tell you," she said, "is of things done and
suffered more than four hundred years ago. At that time there was war
between the English and French. The King of England, not satisfied with
his own dominions, wanted France also and claimed it because his mother
was the daughter of a former French king; so he sent an army across the
Channel into France to force the French to take him for their king,
instead of their own monarch."

"Didn't the French people want to have the English king to be theirs
too, grandma?" asked Elsie.

"No, indeed! and so a long, long war followed, and a great many of both
the French and English were killed.

"At that time there was a young peasant girl named Joan, a modest,
industrious, pious girl, who loved her country and was distressed
over the dreadful war going on in it. She longed to help to drive the
English away; but it did not seem as if she--a girl of fifteen, who
could neither read nor write, though she could sew and spin and work
out in the fields and gardens--could do anything to help to rid her
dear land of the invaders. But she thought a great deal about it and at
length imagined that she heard heavenly voices calling to her to go and
fight for her king."

"And that was the picture that we saw to-day, grandma?" asked Elsie.
"But it wasn't really true?"

"No, dear; probably Joan of Arc, as she is called, really imagined she
heard them, and the painter has imagined how they might have looked."

"Then it isn't real," remarked the little girl, in a tone of
disappointment.

"No, not what the picture represents; but the story of what poor
Joan of Arc, or the Maid of Orleans, as she is often called, thought
and did is true. When she told her story of the voices speaking to
her no one believed it; they thought she was crazy. But she was not
discouraged. She went to her king, or rather the dauphin, for he had
not been crowned, and told her story to him and his council--that God
had revealed to her that the French troops would succeed in driving the
enemy away from the city of Orleans, which they were besieging at that
time.

"The dauphin listened, believed what she told him, and gave her leave
to dress herself in male attire and go with the troops, riding on a
white palfrey and bearing a sword and a white banner. The soldiers
believed in her, and in consequence were filled with such courage and
enthusiasm that they fought very bravely and soon succeeded in driving
the English away from Orleans.

"This success so delighted the French, and so raised their hope of
ridding France of her enemies, that they won victory after victory,
driving the English out of one province after another, and even out of
Paris itself, so that the English hated and dreaded poor Joan.

"She conducted the dauphin to Rheims, where he was crowned, and she
wept for joy as she saluted him as king. Then she wanted to go home,
thinking her work was done; but King Charles begged her to stay with
the army, and to please him she did. But she began to have fearful
forebodings because she no longer heard the voices. Yet she remained
with the French army and was present at a good many battles, till
at length she was taken prisoner by the Burgundians and sold to the
English for a large sum by the Burgundian officer."

"Oh, grandma! and did the English hurt her for fighting for her own
dear country?"

"I cannot say certainly," replied Mrs. Travilla; "accounts differ, some
saying that she was put to death as a heretic and sorceress; others
that some five or six years later she arrived at Metz, was at once
recognized by her two brothers, and afterward married."

"Oh, I hope that is the true end of the story!" exclaimed Elsie. "It
would be so dreadful to have her put to death for helping to save her
dear country."

"So it would," said Grace; "but in those early times such dreadful,
dreadful deeds used to be done. I often feel thankful that I did not
live in those days."

"Yes," said Mrs. Travilla, "we may well be full of gratitude and love
to God our Heavenly Father that our lot has been cast in these better
times and in our dear land."

"And that we have our dear, kind grandma to love," said Neddie,
nestling closer to her, "and our papa and mamma. Some little children
haven't any."

"No, I had no mother when I was your age, Ned," sighed Grandma Elsie,
"and I cannot tell you how much I used to long for her when Aunt Chloe
would tell me how sweet and lovely she had been, and how sorry she was
to leave her baby."

"Her baby? was that you, grandma?" he asked, with a wondering look up
into her face.

"Yes," she replied, with a smile, and stroking his hair caressingly.

"But you had a papa? grandpa is your papa, isn't he? I hear you call
him that sometimes."

"Yes, he is; my dear father and your mamma's grandfather, which makes
him yours too."

"Mine, too," said little Elsie, in a tone of satisfaction.

"Oh, see! here comes the boat with Evelyn and Uncle Walter in it!"

"You are early to-night as well as ourselves," remarked Grace, as they
stepped upon the deck and drew near the little group already gathered
there.

"Yes," returned Evelyn, "I was tired, and Walter kindly brought me
home. The yacht seems like a home to me nowadays," she added, with a
light laugh.

"Yes," said Grace; "I am sure papa likes to have us all feel that it is
a home to us at present."

"And a very good and comfortable one it is," remarked Walter, handing
Evelyn to a seat, then taking one himself opposite her and near his
mother's side.

"Where have you two been? and what have you seen that is worth telling
about?" asked Grace.

"Visiting buildings," returned Walter; "Brazil, Turkey, Hayti, Sweden,
and lastly Venezuela."

"And what did you see there?"

"In Venezuela's exhibit? Christopher Columbus and General Bolivar--that
is, their effigies--specimens of birds, animals, minerals, preserves,
spices, coffee, vegetables, fine needlework, some manufactured goods,
and--most interesting of all, we thought--the flag carried by Pizarro
in his conquest of Peru."

"Pizarro? who was he? and what did he do, Uncle Wal?" asked little
Elsie.

"He was a very, very bad man and did some very, very wicked deeds,"
replied Walter.

"Did he kill people?"

"Yes, that he did; and got killed himself at last. The Bible says,
'Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed,' and there
have been a great many examples of it in the history of the world."

"Does God say that, Uncle Walter?" asked Neddie.

"Yes; God said it to Noah, shortly after he and his family came out of
the ark."

"When the flood was over?"

"Yes."

"Please tell us about that flag and the bad man that carried it," urged
little Elsie, and Walter complied.

"Pizarro was a Spaniard," he began, "a very courageous, but covetous
and cruel man; very ignorant, too; he could neither read nor write.
He was a swineherd in his youth, but gave up that occupation and came
over to America to seek a fortune in this new world. He crossed the
Isthmus of Panama with Balboa and discovered the Pacific Ocean. While
there he heard rumors of a country farther south, where gold and silver
were said to be as abundant as iron in Spain, and he was seized with a
great desire to go there and help himself to as much as possible. So
he and another fellow named Almagro, and Luque, a priest, put their
money together and fitted out a small expedition, of which Pizarro took
command.

"They did not go very far that time, but afterward tried it again,
first making an agreement that all they got of lands, treasures, and
other things, vassals included, should be divided equally between them.

"They set sail in two ships. They really reached Peru, and when Pizarro
went back to Panama he carried with him many beautiful and valuable
ornaments of gold and silver which the kind-hearted natives had
given him, also specimens of cloth made of wool and having a silky
appearance and brilliant color, and some llamas, or alpacas."

"They had certainly treated him very kindly," remarked Grace, as Walter
paused for a moment in his narrative.

"Yes; and what a mean wretch he must have been to want to rob them of
everything--even to life, liberty, and happiness. He was determined to
do that as soon as possible; so determined that, not being able to find
enough volunteers in Panama, he went all the way back to Spain (a far
greater undertaking then than it would be now), told the story of his
discoveries before the king, Charles V., and his ministers; describing
the wealth of the countries and showing the goods and ornaments he had
brought from them.

"Then they gave him--what was not theirs to give--permission to conquer
Peru, and the titles of governor and captain-general of that country.
He on his part agreed to raise a certain number of troops, and to send
to the King of Spain one-fifth of all the treasures he should obtain.
He then returned to Panama and soon set sail for Peru again."

"With a great many soldiers, Uncle Wal?" queried little Ned.

"No; with what in these days would be considered a very small army;
only 180 soldiers, of whom 27 were cavalry."

"Cavalry?" repeated Ned, in a tone of enquiry.

"Yes, soldiers on horseback. The Peruvians, having never before seen
a horse, took each mounted man and the steed he rode to be but one
animal, and were much afraid of them. The firearms, too, inspired great
terror, as they knew nothing of gunpowder and its uses.

"At that time there was war among the natives of Peru and Quito. Huano
Capac, the former Inca of Peru, had died some years previous, leaving
Peru to his son Huascar, and Quito, which he had conquered shortly
before, to another son--half-brother to Huascar. The two had quarrelled
and had been fighting each other for about two years, and just before
the arrival of the Spaniards Atahualpa had defeated his brother
Huascar, taken him prisoner, and confined him in a strong fortress."

"Perhaps," remarked Evelyn, "if they had not been so busy fighting each
other they might have discovered the approach of Pizarro, their common
enemy, in season to prevent the mischief he was prepared to do them."

"Very possibly," returned Walter. "As it was, the Spaniards drew near
Atahualpa's victorious camp, where they found fifty thousand men
assembled. Pizarro had at the most only two hundred; a mere handful in
comparison with the numbers of the Peruvians, but by a most daring and
diabolical stratagem he got possession of the unsuspecting Inca.

"Atahualpa came to visit him in a friendly spirit. A priest began
explaining to him the Christian, or rather the papal religion; told him
that the Pope had power over all the kingdoms of the earth and that he
had presented Peru to the King of Spain; also that they had come to
take possession in the name of that king.

"Naturally that made Atahualpa very angry; so angry that he indignantly
interrupted the priest, saying that the Pope--whoever he was--must be
a crazy fool to talk of giving away countries which did not belong to
him. Then he asked on what authority such claims were made.

"The priest pointed to a Bible. Atahualpa dashed it angrily to the
ground, and the fields began to fill with Indians. Then Pizarro waved
a white scarf--the signal he had agreed upon with his men--and his
artillery poured sudden death into the terrified masses of Indians,
while the Spanish cavalry rode them down in a furious, merciless way.
The ranks of the poor, unarmed Peruvians were thrown into confusion;
their foes were butchering them without mercy; they could do little to
save themselves; they used every effort to defend and save the sacred
Inca, but in vain; and after hours of that fiendish murdering of the
poor, defenceless creatures, the Spaniards got full possession of him.

"At first they pretended to be very kind to him, especially when he
offered, as his ransom, to fill the room in which he stood with gold as
high as he could reach.

"Huascar, in his prison, heard of this and offered a still larger
ransom for himself, and to prevent it Atahualpa had him secretly
murdered.

"Soon after that the gold for Atahualpa's ransom began to pour in, and
when there was as much as he had promised he demanded his freedom. But
Pizarro refused to let him go--though he took the gold--accusing him
of plotting against him; and after much base treachery the Spaniards
held a mock trial and condemned Atahualpa to be burned. But when they
led him out to the stake he consented to be baptized, and for that they
were so very merciful as to strangle before burning him."

"Oh, Uncle Walter, what cruel, cruel men!" exclaimed little Elsie.

"They were, indeed," sighed her grandma. "The Bible tells us 'the
tender mercies of the wicked are cruel.' Pizarro and his band were
very, very wicked men. They had no more right to the country of the
Peruvians than the Peruvians would have had to theirs, had they crossed
the ocean to Spain and seized upon it for their own. 'All they that
take the sword shall perish with the sword,' our Saviour said, and how
true it proved in the case of these men of whom we have been talking!
Atahualpa caused his brother Huascar to be killed; Pizarro, Almagro,
and the others killed Atahualpa; Pizarro afterward killed Almagro; and
later on Pizarro was himself slain by Almagro's son Diego."



CHAPTER II.


Ned had begun to nod, and Elsie's eyes drooped as if she too were in
need of a nap; perceiving which Grandma Elsie bade their nurse take
them to their berth.

A light breeze had sprung up, and it was very pleasant on deck in the
shade of the awning; while, resting upon couches or in easy chairs,
they talked in a quiet way of the various interesting exhibits to which
they had given their attention since leaving the yacht that morning.

"We visited the Illinois Building," said Evelyn, "and were very much
interested in the wonderful grain picture there. It is an ideal prairie
farm--with farmhouse, barn, stock-sheds, all made of corn-husks as well
as the picket fence surrounding it; there are stock and poultry in the
barnyard; there is a windmill too, and there are fields and cattle."

"Yes," said Walter, as Eva paused in her account, "and the perspective
showed fields of grass and grain, pasture too, and sky effects--all
made of natural grains, grasses, leaves, and berries indigenous to
Illinois."

"Oh, I think I must get papa to take us to see it!" exclaimed Grace.

"There is a curtain that partly covers the picture," continued Walter;
"it is made of the same materials and caught up by a rope with tassels
made of yellow corn.

"We visited the Idaho Building too," he went on, "and I think you
should all see it. It is really picturesque--a log-house on a
foundation of lava and basaltic rock. The timbers we were told are from
young cedar trees, stuffed and stained to produce the effect of age;
then it has fine upper and lower balconies shaded by a projecting roof
upheld by brackets of logs. I heard people remarking that it was the
handsomest log-house ever built, and certainly I never saw any other
nearly so handsome."

"Ah, here comes the boat again with the rest of our folks!" exclaimed
Grace, and springing to his feet, Walter hastened to the side of the
vessel to assist the ladies in getting on board.

"Well, Lu, have you had a good time since I left you?" asked Grace, in
a lively tone, as her sister drew near.

"Yes; yes, indeed!" returned Lucilla; "we have seen and enjoyed a great
deal, and I wouldn't have missed it on any account, though we are all
very tired, I think. I am, I know," she concluded, dropping into a
seat by Grace's side.

"As we all are," said Violet. "I am glad, mamma, that you came back to
the yacht when you did."

"Yes, I thought it wiser not to allow myself to become very weary
before taking rest; and we have had a pleasant, quiet time here
together," returned Grandma Elsie, looking up with an affectionate
smile into the face of her father, who had just drawn near and was
standing by her side, regarding her with a slightly anxious look.

"I am glad you were so prudent," he said, "for you have not been over
strong since that illness that made us all so anxious."

"No; and we all feel that we must be very careful of our dear mother,"
remarked the captain, who had just joined the little group.

"Of Gracie also," he added, smiling down into her face and laying a
caressing hand for a moment on her head. "Are you feeling very tired,
daughter?"

"Not so very much now, papa," she answered brightly; "we have been
resting nicely here, talking over the sights and historical stories
connected with them."

Then, turning to her sister, "Tell us where you have been and what you
have seen since we left the party, Lu," she requested.

"Ah, I am afraid I cannot begin to tell all," returned Lucilla, in
a lively tone and with a pleased little laugh, "for 'their name is
legion'; the loveliest pictures and statuary in the Fine Arts Building,
and a great variety of curious and interesting things in Machinery
Hall. We went up to the gallery there and took a ride in the travelling
crane. It is like an elevated railroad, is moved by electricity, and
runs the whole length of the building, twenty or thirty feet above the
floor. We stepped in at one end and sat down upon chairs ranged along
the front edge, and it was really entertaining to watch the crowds of
people moving along the floors below, and to get at last a glance at
the exhibits."

"Exhibits!" echoed Grace. "Of what kind? Oh, machines, of course! But I
should hardly expect them to be very interesting."

"Machines for making ice cream and candy would interest you,
wouldn't they?" asked Lulu. "Perhaps the hot baths, too; though I
suppose you wouldn't care much about printing-presses, rock-drills,
sewing-machines, washing-machines, looms, and the like. I own I didn't
care over much for them myself. But in the restful, cooling, breezy
ride, with nothing to do but watch the goings on of other people, and
a glance now and then at something interesting as we glided past it, I
did find a good deal of enjoyment. Ah," drawing out her pretty little
watch and glancing at its face, "I must excuse myself now and go to
my stateroom; for I see it is nearly meal time, and my hair and dress
certainly need some attention;" and with that she left them.

Mr. Dinsmore and the captain, wishing to look at some exhibits in which
the ladies took but little interest, went ashore again early in the
evening; leaving Mrs. Dinsmore, Mrs. Travilla, and the younger ones
occupying the comfortable seats on the _Dolphin's_ deck, and enjoying
the cool evening breeze and the somewhat distant view of the beauties
of the brilliantly illuminated White City, as well as that of the
starry heavens above them.

Violet had gone down to the cabin with her children to see them safely
in bed, and for some minutes no one left in the little group behind had
spoken. But presently Grace broke the silence.

"I have just been thinking what a wonderful change has come over this
part of our country since the war of 1812. I remember that history
tells us there was only a fort and a trading post here then, where now
this great city stands, and that it was destroyed. Grandma Elsie,
don't you want to tell us the whole story?" she concluded in a coaxing
tone.

"I am willing, if you all wish it," was the sweet-toned reply,
immediately followed by an eager assent from everyone present.

"Well, then, my dears," she said, "to begin at the beginning--this
spot, we are told, was first visited by a white man in 1674. He was
a French Jesuit called Father Marquette. He built a cabin there and
planted a missionary station. Eleven years afterward his cabin was
replaced by a fort. I do not know how long that fort stood, but Lossing
tells us that in 1796 a mulatto from St. Domingo found his way to that
far-off wilderness, and that the Indians said of him 'the first white
man who settled here was a negro.' He did not stay very long, however,
and the improvements he had made fell into the hands of the next comer,
who was a native of Quebec named John Kinzie.

"He was an enterprising trader with the Indians, and for twenty years
the only white man in northern Illinois except a few American soldiers.
It was in 1804 that he made Chicago his home, and on the Fourth of July
of that year a fort our government had been building there was formally
dedicated and called Fort Dearborn, in honor of the then Secretary of
War. It stood on a slight elevation on the south bank of the Chicago
River, about half a mile from its mouth, and directly opposite, on the
north bank, stood Mr. Kinzie's dwelling. It was a modest mansion begun
by Jean Baptiste, and enlarged by Mr. Kinzie. He had some Lombardy
poplars planted in front within an enclosed yard, and at the back a
fine garden and growing orchard.

"There he had lived in peace and prosperity, esteemed and confided in
by the surrounding Indians, for eight years, when in June of 1812 war
was declared by our government with Great Britain. Of course you all
know and remember what were the causes of that second struggle with our
mother country?"

"Indeed we do, mother," exclaimed Walter. "She interfered with our
commerce, capturing every American vessel bound to, or returning
from a port where her commerce was not favored; and worse still, was
continually seizing our sailors and forcing them into her service;
depriving us of our God-given rights and making slaves of freemen. If
ever a war was justifiable on one side that one was on ours. Is it not
so?"

"I think it is, my son," replied Grandma Elsie, smiling slightly at the
lad's heat.

"Was Fort Dearborn strong and well built, mamma?" queried Rosie.

"Yes; it was strongly picketed, had a block-house at each of two angles
on the southern side, on the north side a sally-port and covered way
that led down to the river for the double purpose of obtaining water
during a siege and of having a way of escape should that be desirable
at any time--and was strongly picketed.

"The fort was built by Major Whistler, his soldiers dragging all
the timber to the spot because they had no oxen. Some material was
furnished from Fort Wayne, but so economically was the work done that
the fortress did not cost the government fifty dollars.

"But to return to my story--the garrison there at the time of the
declaration of war consisted of fifty-four men. The only other
residents of the post at that time were the wives of Captain Heald and
Lieutenant Helm, the second in command, those of some of the soldiers,
a few Canadians with their wives and children, and Mr. Kinzie and his
family.

"They were all on the most friendly terms with the principal tribes
of Indians in that neighborhood--the Pottawatomies and Winnebagoes,
yet they could not win them from their attachment for the British, who
yearly made them large presents as bribes to secure their alliance.
Portions of their tribes had been engaged in the battle of Tippecanoe,
fought the previous autumn, and since that some of the leading chiefs
had seemed sullen, and suspicions of intended hostility on their part
at times troubled the minds of the officers of the fort.

"One day in the spring of 1812 two Indians of the Calumet band were at
the fort, and seeing Mrs. Helm and Mrs. Heald playing at battledore,
one of them, named Nan-non-gee, turned to the interpreter with the
remark, 'The white chiefs' wives are amusing themselves very much; it
will not be long before they will be living in our cornfields.'"

"Oh!" cried Grace, "I should think that ought to have been enough to
warn the officers of the fort to make every preparation to repel an
assault by the Indians."

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "but Heald seems to have been strangely
blind and deaf to every kind of warning.

"On the evening of the 7th of April, 1812, Mr. Kinzie sat by his
fireside playing his violin, his children dancing to the music, when
their mother, who had been attending a sick neighbor, a Mrs. Burns,
living half a mile above the fort, came rushing wildly in crying out:
'The Indians! the Indians!' 'What? where?' exclaimed her husband. 'Up
at Lee's, killing and scalping!' she gasped in reply, and went on to
tell that the alarm had been given by a boy, the son of Mr. Lee, and a
discharged soldier who had been working for them. They had shouted the
dreadful tidings across the river to the Burns family, as they ran down
the farther side, Mr. Lee's place being between two and three miles
farther up the stream.

"Not a moment was to be lost. Mr. Kinzie hurried his family into two
pirogues moored in front of his house, and hastened with them across
the river and into the fort. The alarm had reached there also, and a
scow with Ensign Ronan and six men started at once up the river to
rescue the Burns family. Also a cannon was fired to give notice of
danger to a party of soldiers who were out fishing. Mrs. Burns and her
family, including an infant not yet a day old, were taken safely to the
fort."

"I hope those soldiers got back safely too," said Grace.

"Yes; they were two miles above Lee's; it was already dark when they
returned, and in passing his house they came upon the bodies of
murdered and scalped persons, which were the next day recovered and
buried near the fort. It was afterward learned that the scalping party
were Winnebagoes from Rock River, who had come with the intention of
killing every white person outside of the fort, but were frightened
away by the sound of the cannon before they had finished their fiendish
work; so fled back to their homes.

"In those days an agency house stood upon the esplanade, about twenty
rods west from the fort, and in it all the whites not belonging to the
garrison now took refuge. It was an old-fashioned log-house, with a
passage through the centre, and piazzas in front and rear extending the
whole length of the building. These were planked up, port-holes cut in
the barricades and sentinels were posted there every night.

"Hostile Indians hovered around the post for some time, helping
themselves to whatever they could lay their hands upon, but at length
disappeared, and for a while there was no further alarm.

"On the 7th of August, toward evening, a friendly Pottawatomie chief,
named Win-ne-meg, or the Catfish, came to Chicago from Fort Wayne
as the bearer of a despatch from General Hull to Captain Heald. In
that despatch Hull told of the declaration of war with England, the
invasion of Canada, and the loss of Mackinack. It also ordered Captain
Heald to evacuate Fort Dearborn, if practicable; and if he did so to
distribute all the United States property there among the Indians in
the neighborhood."

"Including guns, powder, and balls with which to kill the whites!" said
Lucilla. "I think I should have concluded from such an order that Hull
must be either a traitor or an idiot."

"His idea," said Grandma Elsie, "seems to have been to make a
peace-offering to the savages to induce them to refrain from joining
the British, then menacing Detroit.

"Win-ne-meg, who had some knowledge of the contents of the missive
he brought, begged Mr. Kinzie, with whom he was intimate, to advise
Captain Heald not to evacuate the fort, assuring him it would prove a
difficult and dangerous movement; for the Indians had already received
information from Tecumseh of the disasters to the American arms and the
withdrawal of Hull's army from Canada, and were growing insolent and
restless. The fort was well supplied with ammunition and provisions
sufficient to last for six months; by the end of that time relief might
be sent, and why not hold out till then? But if Heald was resolved to
evacuate, it had better be done at once, before the Indians should be
informed of the order, and so be prepared to make an attack.

"Win-ne-meg's advice in that case was to leave the stores as they were,
allowing them to make distribution for themselves; for while they were
engaged in that business the white people might make their way in
safety to Fort Wayne.

"Mr. Kinzie perceived that this was wise advice, as did the officers
of the fort, with the exception of Heald, who would not listen to it,
but expressed himself as resolved to yield strict obedience to Hull's
orders as to evacuation and the distribution of the public property.

"The next morning Hull's order was read to the troops, and Heald took
the whole responsibility of carrying it out. His officers expected to
be summoned to a council, but they were not. Toward evening they called
upon the commander and remonstrated with him. They said that the march
must necessarily be slow on account of the women, children, and infirm
persons, therefore, under the circumstances, exceedingly perilous. They
reminded him that Hull's order left it to his discretion to go or to
stay; adding that they thought it much wiser to strengthen the fort,
defy the savages, and endure a siege until help could reach them.

"But Heald replied that he should expect the censure of the government
if he remained, for special orders had been issued by the War
Department that no post should be surrendered without battle having
been given by the assailed; and his force was entirely too small to
hazard an engagement with the Indians. He added that he had full
confidence in the professions of friendship of many chiefs about him,
and he would call them together, make the required distribution, then
take up his march for Fort Wayne."

"And did the other officers submit to him then, Grandma Elsie?" asked
Grace.

"Yes; my dear, he was in authority, and I presume they were too loyal
to oppose him. But being determined to abandon the fort, he should have
done so at once; for delay was certainly increasing the danger, the
Indians becoming more unruly every hour; yet he procrastinated and did
not call them together for the final arrangements for two or three days.

"At last that was done and they met near the fort on the afternoon of
the 12th, when Heald held a farewell council with them. He invited his
officers to join him in that, but they refused. In some way they had
been informed that treachery was intended on the part of the Indians,
that they had planned to murder them and then destroy those who were
in the fort. Therefore they remained inside the pickets and opened a
port-hole of one of the block-houses so that the Indians could see a
cannon pointing directly toward their group, thus protecting Captain
Heald. It had the desired effect; no effort was made by the savages
to carry out their treacherous design, they professed friendship, and
accepted Heald's offers to distribute among them the goods in the
public store--blankets, calicoes, broadcloths, paints, and other things
such as Indians fancy."

"Beads among them, I presume," remarked Rosie.

"Very likely," said her mother, "as they have always been a favorite
ornament with the Indians. The distribution of those goods, the arms
and ammunition and such of the provisions as would not be needed by the
garrison, was to take place next day; then the whites were to leave
the fort and set out upon their journey through the wilderness, the
Pottawatomies engaging to furnish them with an escort, on condition of
being liberally rewarded on their arrival at Fort Wayne."

"Oh, but I should have been afraid to trust them!" exclaimed Grace,
shuddering at the very thought of the risk.

"Mr. Kinzie, who knew the Indians so well, was of your opinion," said
Grandma Elsie, "and earnestly remonstrated with Captain Heald; telling
him they were not to be trusted in the face of such temptations.
Especially he urged him not to put arms and ammunition in their
hands, as that would fearfully increase their ability to carry on the
murderous raids which had become so frequent and caused so great terror
in the frontier settlements.

"He succeeded in convincing Heald that he had been very foolish in
making that promise, and he resolved to violate his treaty so far as
the arms and ammunition were concerned. That very evening something
occurred that certainly ought to have opened Heald's eyes and led him
to shut the gates of the fort and defend it to the last extremity.
Black Partridge, a chief who had thus far always been friendly to the
whites, and who was a man of great influence too, came to Heald in a
quiet way and said, 'Father, I come to deliver to you the medal I wear.
It was given me by the Americans, and I have long worn it in token of
our mutual friendship. But our young men are resolved to imbrue their
hands in the blood of the white people. I cannot restrain them, and
I will not wear a token of peace while I am compelled to act as an
enemy.'"

"And did Heald actually disregard such a warning as that?" exclaimed
Evelyn Leland. "I really do not see how it could have been made plainer
that the purpose was to attack and murder all in the fort as soon as
they were fairly in their power."

"Nor do I," said Grandma Elsie; "yet Heald seems to have paid no more
attention to it than to the previous warnings.

"The next morning, August 13, was bright and cool. The Indians came
in great numbers to receive their promised presents. Only the goods
in the store were distributed that day, and in the evening Black
Partridge said to Mr. Griffith, the interpreter, 'Linden birds have
been singing in my ears to-day; be careful on the march you are going
to take.' This was repeated to Captain Heald, but solemn warning as it
evidently was, he paid no more attention to it than he had to previous
ones. He seems to have been perfectly infatuated, and how he could
ever forgive himself in after years I cannot see. He went steadily on
in the execution of his plans, of which, as I have told you, all the
other officers, Mr. Kinzie, and friendly Indian chiefs disapproved.
That night he had all the guns but such as his party could make use of
in their journey--gunscrews, flint, shot, and everything belonging to
the use of firearms--thrown into the well. This was done at midnight,
when the sentinels were posted and the Indians in their camp; at least,
they were supposed to be, but the night was dark, Indians can move
noiselessly, and some whose suspicions had been aroused crept to the
spot and made themselves acquainted with what was going on. Liquor and
powder, too, were poured into the well, and a good deal of alcohol,
belonging to Mr. Kinzie, into the river; also a portion of the powder
and liquor of the fort was thrown into a canal that came up from
the river far under the covered way. But the water of the river was
sluggish, and so great a quantity of liquor had been thrown into it
that in the morning it was like strong grog; and powder could be seen
floating on the surface."

"And of course the Indians, who loved liquor, were angry when they saw
how it had been wasted, instead of given to them," remarked Grace.

"Yes; their complaints and threats were loud, and now the little
garrison had no choice but to brave the danger of exposing themselves
to their vengeance, for it was no longer possible to hold the fort,
and they must set out upon their perilous journey. Ah! if Heald had
but been less obstinately bent upon having his own way--more willing
to listen to the advice and remonstrances of his officers, Kinzie, who
understood the Indians so well, and the warning of the friendly chiefs,
much suffering might have been averted and valuable lives saved.

"Mrs. Heald had an uncle, the brave Captain William Wells, who had
passed most of his life among the Miami Indians and been made one of
their chiefs. He had heard at Fort Wayne of Hull's order to evacuate
Fort Dearborn, and knowing of the hostility of the Pottawatomies,
had made a rapid march across the country with a party of his Miamis
to reinforce Heald and help him to hold and defend the fort. But he
arrived just too late; the means of defence had already been destroyed,
and there was no choice but to attempt the perilous march through the
wilderness.

"Nine o'clock of the 15th was the hour set for the evacuation, and
it was already evident that the Indians intended to massacre the
whites--men, women, and children. Nor could they entertain any hope
of being able to defend themselves, so overwhelming was the number of
their savage foes, 500 warriors against 54 soldiers, 12 civilians, and
3 or 4 women."

"But there were the Miamis with Wells, mamma," remarked Rosie.

"Who proved of no assistance," returned Grandma Elsie. "Lossing tells
us that when, at nine o'clock, the gates were thrown open, and the
march began, it was like a funeral procession. The band struck up the
Dead March in 'Saul.' Captain Wells, with his friendly Miamis, took
the lead, his face blackened with gunpowder in token of his impending
fate. His niece, Mrs. Heald, with her husband, came next, while the
others, I presume, followed in the order of their rank."

"Were the Kinzies with them?" asked Grace.

"Mr. Kinzie was, hoping by his personal influence to be able to soften,
if not avert their impending fate. His family had left in a boat, in
charge of a friendly Indian who was to take them to his other trading
station, where Niles, Mich., now stands. Poor Mrs. Kinzie! having a
daughter among the seemingly doomed ones, how terribly anxious and
distressed she must have been!" added Grandma Elsie in tones tremulous
with feeling. A moment of silence followed, then she went on with her
narrative.



CHAPTER III.


"The procession, escorted by the five hundred Pottawatomies, moved
slowly along the lake shore in a southerly direction till they had
reached the Sand Hills between the prairie and the beach. There the
Indians filed to the right, so that the hills were between them and the
white people.

"Wells and his mounted Miamis, who were in the advance, came suddenly
dashing back, their leader shouting, 'They are about to attack us: form
instantly!'

"The words had scarcely left his lips when a storm of bullets came from
the Sand Hills. The Pottawatomies, both treacherous and cowardly, had
made of those hills a covert from which to attack the little band of
whites.

"The troops were hastily brought into line, charged up the hill, and
one of their number, a white-haired man of seventy, fell dead from his
horse, the first victim of the perfidy of the Indians hounded on by the
inhuman Proctor, a worse savage than they.

"The Miamis proved cowardly and fled at the first onset. Their
chief rode up to the Pottawatomies, charged them with perfidy, and
brandishing his tomahawk told them he would be the first to lead
Americans to punish them; then, wheeling his horse, he dashed away over
the prairie, following his fleeing companions.

"Both men and women among the whites fought bravely for their lives;
they could not hope to save them, but they would sell them to the
savage foe as dearly as possible. It was a short, desperate, bloody
conflict. Lossing tells us that Captain Wells displayed the greatest
coolness and gallantry. At the beginning of the fight he was close
beside his niece, Mrs. Heald.

"'We have not the slightest chance for life,' he said to her. 'We must
part to meet no more in this world; God bless you!' and with that he
dashed forward into the midst of the fight. Seeing a young warrior,
painted like a demon, climb into a wagon in which were twelve children,
and scalp them all, he forgot his own danger, and burning to avenge the
dreadful deed, cried out, 'If butchering women and children is their
game, I'll kill too!' at the same time dashing toward the Indian camp
where they had left their squaws and papooses.

"Instantly swift-footed young warriors were in hot pursuit, firing
upon him as they ran, while he, lying close to his horse's neck,
occasionally turned and fired upon them. He had got almost beyond the
range of their rifles when a shot killed his horse and wounded him
severely in the leg.

"Yelling like fiends the young savages rushed forward to make him
prisoner, intending, as he well knew, not to kill him at once, but to
reserve him for a lingering and painful death by slow torture. Two
Indian friends of his--Win-ne-meg and Wau-ban-see--tried to save him,
but in vain; and he, knowing well for what fate he would be reserved if
taken alive, taunted his pursuers with the most insulting epithets, to
provoke them to kill him instantly.

"He succeeded at last by calling one of them, Per-so-tum by name, a
squaw, which so enraged him that he despatched Wells at once with a
tomahawk, jumped upon his body, tore out his heart, and ate a portion
of it with savage delight."

"Oh, how awful!" cried Grace, shuddering with horror. "How his niece
must have felt when she saw it!"

"Very possibly she did not see it," said Grandma Elsie, "so busy as
she must have been in defending herself. She was an expert with the
rifle and as an equestrienne, defended herself bravely, and received
severe wounds; but, though faint and bleeding, managed to keep the
saddle. An Indian raised his tomahawk over her and she looked him
full in the face, saying, with a melancholy smile, 'Surely you would
not kill a squaw!' At that his arm fell, but he took the horse by the
bridle and led it toward the camp with her still in the saddle. It was
a fine animal, and the Indians had been firing at her in order to get
possession of it, till she had received seven bullets in her person.
Her captor had spared her for the moment, but as he drew near the
camp, his covetousness so overcame his better impulses that he took
her bonnet from her head and was about to scalp her when Mrs. Kinzie,
sitting in her boat, whence she had heard the sounds of the conflict
but could not see the combatants, caught sight of them and cried out to
one of her husband's clerks who was standing on the beach, 'Run, run,
Chandonnai! That is Mrs. Heald. He is going to kill her. Take that mule
and offer it as a ransom.'

"Chandonnai made haste to obey the order, offered the mule and two
bottles of whisky in addition, and as the three amounted to more value
than Proctor's offered bounty for a scalp, he succeeded, and Mrs.
Heald was placed in the boat and there hidden from the eyes of other
scalp-hunters."

"I think you were right, Grandma Elsie, in calling that Proctor a worse
savage than those Indians! bribing them as he did to murder men, women,
and children!" exclaimed Lucilla, her eyes flashing with indignation.

"Is it quite certain that he did?" asked Grace.

"Quite," replied Grandma Elsie. "Lossing tells us that Proctor had
offered a liberal sum for scalps, and that in consequence nearly all
the wounded men were killed, their scalps carried to him at Malden,
and such a bounty paid for them as is given for the destruction of so
many wolves. In a footnote Lossing gives an extract from Niles' _Weekly
Register_ of April 3, 1813, in which it is stated that Mrs. Helm had
arrived in Buffalo, and in the narrative she gave of her sufferings at
and after the massacre at Chicago said, 'Colonel Proctor, the British
commander at Malden, bought the scalps of our murdered garrison at
Chicago,' and thanks to her noble spirit, she boldly charged him with
the infamy in his own house."

"Did he deny it?" asked Evelyn.

"We are not told that he did; but no doubt he was angered, for he
afterward treated both her and her husband with great cruelty, causing
them to be arrested and sent across the wilderness from Detroit to
Niagara frontier, in the dead of a Canadian winter. The writer also
stated that Mrs. Heald had learned from the tribe with whom she was a
prisoner, and who were the perpetrators of those murders, that they
intended to remain true, but received orders from the British to cut
off our garrison whom they were to escort.

"In our wars with England many British officers have shown themselves
extremely cruel,--not a whit behind the savages in that respect,--but
it would be very wrong to judge of the whole nation by their conduct;
for there were in the mother country many who felt kindly toward
America and the Americans. And I think," she added, with her own sweet
smile, "that there are many more now."

"It seems Mrs. Helm too escaped with her life," said Walter; "but she
was wounded, I presume, mother, since you just spoke of her sufferings
both at and after the massacre."

"Yes, a stalwart young Indian attempted to scalp her; she sprang to
one side, and the blow from his tomahawk fell on her shoulder instead
of her head; at the same instant she seized him around the neck and
attempted to take his scalping-knife, which hung in a sheath on his
breast. Before the struggle was ended another Indian seized her,
dragged her to the margin of the lake, plunged her in, and to her
astonishment held her there in a way to enable her to breathe; so that
she did not drown. Presently she discovered that he was the friendly
Black Partridge, and that he was engaged in saving instead of trying to
destroy her life.

"The wife of a soldier named Corbord fought desperately, suffering
herself to be cut to pieces rather than surrender; believing that, if
taken prisoner, she would be reserved for torture. The wife of Sergeant
Holt was another brave woman. At the beginning of the engagement her
husband was badly wounded in the neck, and taking his sword she fought
like an Amazon. She rode a fine, spirited horse, which the Indians
coveted, and several of them attacked her with the butts of their guns,
trying to dismount her, but she used her sword with such skill that
she foiled them; then suddenly wheeling her horse, she dashed over
the prairie, a number of them in hot pursuit and shouting, 'The brave
woman! the brave woman! don't hurt her!'"

"Did they overtake her?" asked Grace.

"Yes, at length; when a powerful savage seized her by the neck and
dragged her backward to the ground while several others engaged her in
front."

"Oh, I hope they didn't kill her!" exclaimed Grace.

"No," replied Mrs. Travilla; "she was afterward ransomed. But to go on
with my story. Presently the firing ceased; the little band of whites
who had escaped death succeeded in breaking through the ranks of the
assassins--who gave way in front--and rallied on the flank, and gained
a slight eminence on the prairie near a grove called the Oak Woods. The
Indians gathered upon the Sand Hills and gave signs of a willingness to
parley. Two-thirds of the whites had been killed or wounded; only 28
strong men remained to cope with the fury of nearly 500 savages--they
had lost but 15 in the conflict. To prolong the contest would be little
better than madness. Captain Heald, accompanied only by a half-breed
boy in Mr. Kinzie's service, went forward and met Black-Bird on the
open prairie to arrange terms of surrender.

"It was agreed that all the whites who had survived the conflict should
become prisoners of war, to be exchanged as soon as practicable. With
this understanding captors and captives all started for the Indian camp
near the fort. On arriving there another terrible scene ensued. The
Indians did not consider the wounded to be included in the terms of
surrender, and immediately proceeded to kill and scalp nearly all of
them."

"To gain the bounty offered by that--human, or inhuman fiend Proctor!"
exclaimed Walter. "I wonder how he viewed that transaction when he came
to die."

"I am sure that in the sight of God he was a wholesale murderer," said
Rosie; "a murderer not of men only, but of innocent women and children
also."

"Yes," said her mother, "there were twelve children killed, besides
Captain Wells, Surgeon Van Voorhees, Ensign Ronan, and twenty-six
private soldiers.

"Toward evening the family of Mr. Kinzie were permitted to return to
their own home, where they found the friendly Black Partridge waiting
for them. Mrs. Helm, the daughter of Mrs. Kinzie, you will remember
was his prisoner. He placed her in the house of a Frenchman named
Ouilmette. But the Kinzies and all the prisoners were in great danger
from a freshly arrived band of Pottawatomies from the Wabash, who were
thirsting for blood and plunder. They thoroughly searched Mr. Kinzie's
house for victims; but some friendly Indians arrived just in time to
prevent the carrying out of their bloodthirsty intentions. These were
led by a half-breed chief called Billy Caldwell. Black Partridge told
him of the evident purpose of the Wabash Indians, who had blackened
their faces and were sitting sullenly in Mr. Kinzie's parlor, no doubt
intending presently to start out and engage in the savage work they
had planned. Billy went in and said in a careless way, as he took off
his accoutrements: 'How now, my friends! A good-day to you! I was told
there were enemies here, but I am glad to find only friends. Why have
you blackened your faces? Is it that you are mourning for your friends
lost in battle? Or is it that you are fasting? If so, ask our friend
here (indicating Mr. Kinzie) and he will give you to eat. He is the
Indians' friend, and never yet refused them what they had need of.'

"Hearing all this the Wabash Indians were ashamed to own what their
intention had been, and so the threatened massacre did not take place.
The prisoners were divided among the captors and finally reunited or
restored to their friends and families."

"But they must have had a great deal to endure before that happy
consummation," sighed Evelyn. "Oh, I think we can never be thankful
enough that we live in these better times!"

"So do I," said Grace. "How very dreadful it must be to fall into the
hands of savages and meet with a death so awful and sudden! I wish I
knew that they were all Christians and ready for heaven."

"I can echo that wish," said Grandma Elsie, in tones full of sadness;
"but I very much fear that they were not. Some we may hope were, but it
is said, on what seems good authority, that Mrs. Helm, in telling of
that terrible scene near the Sand Hills, spoke of the terror of Dr. Van
Voorhees. He had been wounded badly, and his horse shot under him, when
he asked her, 'Do you think they will take our lives?' and then spoke
of offering a large ransom for his. She advised him not to think of
that, but of inevitable death. 'Oh, I cannot die! I am not fit to die!'
he exclaimed. 'If I had only a short time to prepare for it--death is
awful!'"

"'Look at that man! at least he dies like a soldier,' she said,
pointing to Ensign Ronan. 'Yes,' gasped the doctor, 'but he has no
terror of the future--he is an unbeliever.'

"Just then Mrs. Helm's struggle with the young Indian who attempted to
tomahawk her began, and directly afterward she saw the dead body of Van
Voorhees."

"Oh, poor, poor fellow!" exclaimed Grace, tears starting to her eyes.
"One would think that, in such circumstances as theirs had been for
months, every man and woman would have been careful to make sure work
for eternity."

"Yes, but Satan is ever tempting men to delay, and perhaps more souls
are, in Christian lands, lost through procrastination than from any
other cause," sighed Grandma Elsie. "'Now is the accepted time; now is
the day of salvation.'"

There was a moment of silence, broken by Evelyn.

"I remember when I was a very little girl, papa used to talk to me
about being a Christian, and that once I answered him, 'I would, papa,
if I only knew how,' and he said, 'It is very simple, daughter; just
to believe in the Lord Jesus, take him for your Saviour, and give
yourself to him--soul and body, time, talents, influence--all that
you have or ever shall have, to be his forever, trusting in him with
all your heart, sure that he meant all that he said in speaking to
Nicodemus--'God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son,
that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting
life.' And that other, 'Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast
out.' Those two texts seem to me to make the way very simple and plain."

"They do indeed," said Grandma Elsie, "and anyone who has the Bible
and will study it faithfully, with earnest prayer to God for help to
understand and obey its teachings, can hardly fail to find the way."



CHAPTER IV.


The greater part of the next day was spent by our friends in a farewell
visit to the Fair; but the sun had not yet set when again they all
gathered upon the _Dolphin's_ deck, and she weighed anchor and
proceeded on her course up the lake.

"What a wonderful city it is to be so young!" remarked Mr. Dinsmore
when they reached Chicago.

"Yes, sir," said Rosie. "Mamma was giving us a little sketch of its
early history, last evening; and we found it very interesting; but I
can't say that the events here, or anywhere else, for that matter, of
the war of 1812-14 have increased my love for the British. Think of
them hiring the Indians to kill men, women, and children, paying just
the bounty for them that they would for so many wolf-scalps!"

"Yes, it was barbarous indeed; but do not forget that even in the
days of the Revolution there were Britons who viewed such doings
with horror. In 1777 there was a debate in the English Parliament
concerning the employment of Indians against the American colonists,
when a member of the House of Lords spoke in approval of it, saying
it was right to use the means given them by God and Nature. 'God
and Nature!' repeated the Earl of Chatham in scornful tones. 'Those
abominable principles and this most abominable avowal of them demand
most decisive indignation. I call upon that right reverend bench
(pointing to the bishops), those holy ministers of the Gospel and pious
pastors of the Church--I conjure them to join in the holy work, and to
vindicate the religion of their God.' That showed that he (Chatham)
was strongly opposed to such barbarity, but his appeal to the bishops
was vain. Every man of them voted for the employment of the savages
in a war against their brethren, who were fighting for their freedom
after years of patient endurance of oppression--years of patient but
unsuccessful effort to gain it by peaceful means."

"Yes, I have always admired William Pitt!" said Rosie. "But did any of
the British people disapprove of the employment of the Indians in the
war of 1812, grandpa?"

"I presume a great many did, though I do not just now remember any
historical mention of the fact," replied Mr. Dinsmore, "except among
those whose business interests were sure or likely to suffer," he added
musingly.

"Those Sand Hills from behind which the Pottawatomies fired upon the
whites are quite gone now, are they not, papa?" asked Grace.

"Yes," replied Captain Raymond, "the city now covers the entire theatre
of the events of that dreadful day. It has been a rapid and wonderful
transformation."

"Don't you think, papa, it might have been saved--I mean Fort
Dearborn--if Captain Heald had not been so obstinately determined to do
as he thought best, regardless of the opinions of his officers and Mr.
Kinzie, and the warnings of friendly Indians?" asked Grace.

"I do, indeed," was the emphatic reply. "And that Mackinack, which fell
into the hands of the British about a month earlier, might have been
saved to our country but for the criminal neglect of the then Secretary
of War. Hancks, who was in command, did not know, had not heard of the
declaration of war, though he might have been informed of it nearly
a week earlier than the news reached the British commander of Fort
St. Joseph, who led the attack, and by reason of the ignorance of the
garrison and its commander of the true state of affairs came upon them
so unexpectedly that they had no opportunity to defend the fortress."

"Oh, tell us the story of it, papa, please!" pleaded little Elsie, and
drawing her to a seat upon his knee, he complied at once.

"The fort was built in the first place by the French," he said, "and
taken from them by the English when they conquered Canada. The Indians
were not pleased with the change and said to the English, 'You have
conquered the French, but you have not conquered us.' Perhaps you may
remember what I told you some weeks ago about the attack of the Indians
upon the people in the fort. The Indians were playing ball outside the
walls of the fortress, and, pretending to be very friendly, invited the
garrison to view the game. It was a gay and exciting scene, and the
unsuspicious members of the garrison were looking on with interest,
forgetting to be on their guard against treachery, when a ball went up
in a lofty curve and fell near the pickets of the fort.

"It was a preconcerted signal; the warriors instantly rushed toward the
fort, armed with hatchets which their squaws had concealed under their
blankets, and the whites being taken by surprise, a dreadful massacre
followed.

"The following year the fort was again garrisoned by the English, the
Indians fleeing at their approach. After the Revolutionary War--in
1796--the island with its fort came into possession of the United
States, the western military posts being surrendered to the Americans
by the British, and in 1812 the fortress, then called Fort Holmes, was
garrisoned by fifty-seven men under the command of Lieutenant Hancks
of the United States Artillery. As a defence of the fur-traders and
the scattered settlements of the Northwest, it was a very important
post. You doubtless remember that it stands on a bluff overlooking the
harbor."

"It is a beautiful place in the summer," remarked Grace, "but must be
dreary enough through the long winters."

"It is," said her father, "yet by no means so dreary now as it was in
those days, surrounded by hordes of savages ever ready to raise the
hatchet in the pay of those who seemed to be the stronger party.

"Lieutenant Hancks and his garrison knew that in the event of war
they must be prepared to defend themselves, but as you have just been
told, they were left in uncertainty for nearly a week after the news
should have reached them. There had been rumors of expected hostilities
brought by traders, but the first intimation that there had been an
actual declaration of war was given by the arrival of the English
Captain Roberts, on the morning of the 17th of July, with his garrison
of British regulars--46, including 4 officers--260 Canadian militia,
and 715 Indians--Ottawas, Chippewas, Sioux, Winnebagoes.

"They came in boats, bateaux, canoes, convoyed by the brig _Caledonia_,
which belonged to the Northwest Fur Company and was laden with
provisions and stores.

"On the morning of the day before, the Indian interpreter had told
Hancks he had reliable information that the Indians were assembling in
large numbers at St. Joseph and were about to attack Fort Holmes.

"Hancks had no sooner heard that than he summoned the American
gentlemen on the island to a conference on the matter, at which it was
decided to send a messenger to St. Joseph to learn, if possible, the
temper of the commandant, and to watch the movements of the Indians.

"Captain Darman was the man chosen, and he set off upon his errand
about sunset that same evening."

"All by himself, papa, when it was just getting dark, too?" asked
Elsie. "How could he see to row his boat?"

"A full moon shone in the sky, daughter, and lighted him on his way,"
replied the captain. "But he had gone only fifteen miles when he met
the boats carrying the British and Indians, and was taken prisoner by
them."

"And did they kill him and scalp him, papa?"

"No; they let him go on condition that he would return to the island
in advance of them, call the people together to the west side of
it to receive the protection of a British guard for themselves and
their property, and not give Lieutenant Hancks any information of the
approach of the enemy. Also he was to warn the people that if any of
them carried the news to the fort there would be a general massacre.
Darman was landed at dawn, and did exactly as he had promised."

"Oh, papa! and didn't anybody warn the poor fellows in the fort?"

"Yes; a Dr. Day, braver than any of the rest, hurried to the fort and
gave the alarm while the others were fleeing from the village to escape
from the bloodthirsty savages. But it was too late; the enemy had
already landed and taken one of their two heavy guns to the top of the
hill at the back of the fort, placing it so as to command the American
works at their weakest point. By nine o'clock Roberts had possession of
the heights, and hideously painted savages were swarming everywhere.

"At half-past eleven the Americans were summoned to surrender the
fortress to the forces of his 'Britannic Majesty.' Hancks then held
a consultation with his officers and the American gentlemen in the
fort, and all agreeing in the opinion that it would be impossible to
defend it against such overwhelming numbers--over a thousand, while the
garrison could boast but fifty-seven men rank and file--he decided that
it was expedient to surrender.

"Honorable terms were granted and at noon the American colors were
taken down and those of Great Britain substituted in their stead. The
prisoners were all paroled, and those who desired to leave the island
were sent in a British vessel to Detroit."

"I should hardly have supposed any American would want to stay here
under British rule," remarked Grace.

"An order was presently issued that all upon the island who would not
take the oath of allegiance to the British government must leave there
within a month," said Captain Raymond.

"And they didn't let the Indians kill anybody, papa?" asked Elsie.

"No," replied her father, "but it is altogether likely that if there
had been any resistance many, if not all, would have fallen victims to
the bloodthirsty savages, for one of the British, who had command of
280 of the Indians, said in a letter to Colonel Claus at Fort George,
'It was a fortunate circumstance that the fort surrendered without
firing a single gun, for had they done so, I firmly believe not a soul
would have been saved.'"

"The capture of Mackinaw was a great loss to our country, was it not,
father?" asked Lucilla.

"Yes, it was indeed," responded the captain, "a loss to the fur-trade
of the West and a terrible calamity to the people of Detroit and other
Western pioneers. It gave the enemy command of the upper lakes with all
the advantages connected with it, and exposed Detroit to fearful raids
by the hostile Indians."

"And all that dreadful state of affairs was the result of the
unpardonable negligence of the Secretary of War!" she exclaimed.
"Really, I don't see how he could ever forgive himself."

"No, nor do I," said Rosie, "especially when afterward Detroit too fell
into the hands of the British; for its fall was a great assistance to
the British cause."

"Yes," said Walter, "in more ways than one; for they got arms,
ammunition, and stores; also it was months before another invading
army of Americans could be raised and furnished with arms and other
necessaries; and in the meantime the British made their preparations
for further attacks upon us. They got valuable stores at Mackinaw, too;
among them seven hundred packages of costly furs. By the way, Brother
Levis, was there not an attempt made by our troops, later on in the
war, to repossess Mackinaw?"

"Yes; Mackinaw was the key to the traffic in furs of the Northwest;
therefore the Americans were determined to recapture it, and the
British fully as determined to keep possession of it; for which
purpose they sent there a considerable body of troops consisting of
regulars, Canadian militia, and seamen. They took with them twenty-four
bateaux loaded with ordnance, and found on the island a large body of
Indians waiting to join them as allies. That was in April, 1814, and
about the same time Commander Arthur St. Clair with a little squadron
consisting of the _Caledonia_, _St. Lawrence_, _Niagara_, _Tigress_,
and _Scorpion_, started on a land and naval expedition to the upper
lakes. The land force, under the command of Lieutenant-colonel Croghan,
the gallant defender of Fort Stephenson, was attacked by the British
and Indians August 1, 1813."

"Oh, yes, I remember!" exclaimed Walter. "What splendid work he did
there, though he was but twenty-one years old!"

"The expedition left Detroit early in July," continued the captain. "I
will not go into the whole story of its action at present; sufficient
to say they arrived at Mackinaw on the 26th of July. They soon learned
that the enemy was very strong in position and numbers, and it was a
question between St. Clair and Croghan whether it would be wise to make
an immediate attack. The guns of the vessels could not damage the works
because they were so elevated, and they could not carry the place by
storm.

"Finally it was decided that Croghan should land on the western side
of the island, under cover of the guns of the vessels, and try to
attack the works in the rear. He did so on the 4th of August, landing
without much molestation, but was presently met by the garrison, who
were strongly supported by the Indians in the thickets; also a storm
of shot and shell was poured upon them from a battery of guns. There
was a sharp fight and Croghan was compelled to fall back and return to
the ship; 1 officer and 12 privates had been killed, 52 wounded, and 2
others were missing.

"The attempt to recover Mackinaw at that time had to be given up, and
most of the little squadron sailed for Detroit. The _Scorpion_ and
the _Tigress_ were left behind to blockade the only route by which
provisions and other supplies could reach Mackinaw. The two vessels
cruised about for some time till the garrison was threatened with
starvation or surrender in order to avert it; but early in September
they were both captured by British and Indians sent out from the fort.
They came in five boats and surprised the _Tigress_ first, when the
_Scorpion_ was said to be fifteen miles away. She was at anchor near
the shore, it was about nine o'clock in the evening, intensely dark,
and the enemy was within fifty yards of the vessel when discovered.

"The Americans made a gallant defence, but were overpowered by numbers,
there being but thirty of them beside the officers, and about one
hundred of the assailants. Lieutenant Bulger, the British commander of
the expedition, said in his report of the affair that the defence of
the vessel did credit to her officers, who were all severely wounded.
They and the crew were all sent prisoners of war to Mackinaw, while
Bulger and his men remained on board the _Tigress_. They kept her
position unchanged and her pennant flying, and when, on the 5th, the
_Scorpion_ was seen approaching, Bulger ordered his men to hide.

"All this deceived the men on the _Scorpion_; they thought the
_Tigress_ was still in the hands of their comrades, and when within
two miles anchored for the night. At dawn the next morning the British
ran the _Tigress_ down alongside of her, the concealed soldiers ran out
from their hiding-places, rushed on board the _Scorpion_, and in a few
minutes the British flag was floating over her."

"And the British were very jubilant over the capture, as I remember
reading," remarked Violet.

"And not very truthful in their report of it," added Walter. "Lossing
says Adjutant-General Baynes actually reported in a general order that
the vessels had crews of 300 each; only exaggerating 570 in stating the
aggregate of the crews of the two schooners."

But just here the talk was interrupted by the not unwelcome summons to
their evening meal.



CHAPTER V.


As they left the table and gathered upon deck on the evening of the
next day, the captain announced that they were nearing Mackinaw.

"I am glad of that, papa," said Grace; "for we shall have a lovely view
of it by moonlight."

"Are we going to stop there, sir?" asked Walter.

"Not unless someone particularly desires it," returned the captain;
"but we will pass slowly and quite near, so that we may all have a good
view of it. Ah! it can be seen in the distance now," he added, pointing
it out.

"And though the sun has set the moon will, as Gracie says, give us a
lovely view of it," remarked Violet.

"Yes, she is nearly full," said the captain, glancing skyward, "which
will help us to a more vivid conception of how things looked to Darman
when he set out for Fort St. Joseph, on the 16th of July, 1812."

"I'm glad of that," said Lucilla. "I want to be able to imagine just
how things looked at that time."

"Yes," said Grace, "but it is far more delightful to know that no war
is going on now, and we are in no danger from either civilized or
savage foes."

"It is indeed!" responded her father. "Peace is a great blessing; war a
dreadful scourge."

"It is an Indian name the island bears, is it not, captain?" asked
Evelyn.

"Yes; and the meaning is the Great Turtle, alluding to its shape.
Notice that as we approach, and see if you do not think the name
appropriate."

"To the tongue of which of the Indian tribes does the name belong,
sir?" asked Walter.

"The Algonquin."

"The harbor is considered a fine one, is it not?"

"Yes; it is semicircular, 1 mile long; the strait is 40 miles long and
4 miles wide; the island 7 miles in circumference. Now we are near
enough for a good view."

"What makes it look so white, papa?" queried little Elsie.

"It is limestone rock, my child," replied her father. "See the village
down near the water and the fort on higher ground--the white cliffs
half covered with green foliage--beyond it the ruins of old Fort
Holmes."

"The one the British took in that war you told about, papa?"

"The very same," he said. "I believe you were not by when I pointed it
out to the others on our former visit to the island."

"No, sir; I think Neddie and I were asleep in our berths."

"Yes, so you were," said her mother. "Ah, my dear," to her husband,
"what a lovely sight it is by this witching light!"

"Yes," he said. "I think we will visit it again one of these days, when
we can spend more time in viewing the various interesting places--such
as the Arch Rock, a natural bridge almost as picturesque as the famous
one in Virginia, the Rabbit's Peak, Giant's Causeway, and the Lover's
Leap. We are passing that last now; and I want you all to notice a
projecting crag at the other end of the island, called Robinson's
Folly. These are all famous places, and each has its legendary story."

They steamed slowly past, greatly enjoying the moonlight view of the
island; then, as it faded from sight, the speed of the vessel was
increased, and before the older ones had retired they had entered Lake
Huron.

The pleasant weather continued, and most of them spent the greater
part of the following day upon the deck.

"We will reach Detroit early this evening, I suppose, Brother Levis?"
said Rosie, in a tone of enquiry.

"Should nothing happen to prevent," was the pleasant-toned reply. "And
now I wonder if my pupils can tell us most of the history of that city?"

"Beginning with the war of 1812, I suppose, as we have already gone
over the story of the doings of Pontiac?"

"Yes; but first I shall give you a few facts concerning its settlement,
growth, and so forth:

"It is by far the oldest city in the western part of our country,
and older than either Philadelphia or Baltimore on the seaboard. It
was founded by the French in 1670, as an outpost for the prosecution
of the fur-trade; and as late as 1840 it still had less than 10,000
inhabitants. It is on the west side of Detroit River, about 7 miles
from Lake St. Clair and 18 from Lake Erie. Can you tell me the meaning
of the name Detroit, Elsie, daughter?"

"No, papa, you never taught me that," replied the little girl.

"It is the French for strait," he said. "The strait or river connecting
Lakes St. Clair and Erie gave the name to the city."

"At the time we are talking of--when General Hull was marching toward
the place--Detroit had only 160 houses and a population of about 800,
most of them of French descent. It was a very small place considering
its age, for it was a trading-post as early as 1620, and established as
a settlement as early as 1701, when a Jesuit missionary came there with
one hundred men. So it was a very old town though so small; but seven
years before there had been a fire that destroyed all the houses but
one."

"But there was a fort, was there not, papa?" asked Grace.

"Yes," replied the captain; "on a hill back of the town, about 250
yards from the river; built by the English after their conquest of
Canada more than 100 years ago. It covered about 2 acres of ground, was
quadrangular in shape, with bastions and barracks. It had embankments
nearly 20 feet high, a deep, dry ditch, and was surrounded by a double
row of pickets.

"The town too was surrounded by strong pickets 14 feet high, with
loopholes to shoot through. Those pickets had been erected as defences
against the Indians, and were still in good condition. There were in
them four strong gates on different streets."

"Then the British couldn't get in to harm the folks, could they, papa?"
asked Elsie.

"They would be able to, when they had finished the fortifications they
had begun to build on the opposite side of the river," replied the
captain; "so General Hull decided that it would be best to cross at
once and drive them away.

"It was not easy to find boats enough to take his twenty-two hundred
men across, but by great exertion he succeeded in getting enough to
carry four hundred at a time, but should the British see them crossing
they would in all probability attack that small number before the
others could cross to take part in the fight. So Hull resorted to
strategy. Toward the evening of the 11th all the boats were sent down
the river in full view of the British, while at the same time Colonel
M'Arthur with his regiment marched away in the same direction. The
British were deceived and made ready to dispute their passage. But
after dark troops and boats returned up the river past Detroit to
Bloody Bridge, a mile and a half above the town, and made arrangements
to cross the river there, which they did."

"Why was it called by that dreadful name--Bloody Bridge, papa?" asked
Elsie.

"Because the Indians in Pontiac's time attacked and killed so
many--fifty-nine--of the English there. Do you not remember my telling
you about it?"

"Oh, yes, sir, when we went to Mackinaw before!" exclaimed the little
girl.

"At dawn the regular troops and the Ohio volunteers crossed over to
the Canadian side, and there hoisted the American flag," continued the
captain.

"But I shall not now go into all the details of the marching and
fighting that followed--how Hull changed his orders and restrained his
brave, patriotic officers and men from attacks upon the enemy which
they were eager to make, until they were almost convinced that he was
either a traitor or a coward.

"He was doubtless too old for the command which had been given him. He
had done good service in the Revolutionary War, and no doubt was really
a patriot still, but he lacked energy, vigilance, and decision, and was
too slow to take advantage of the necessities and mistakes of the foe;
though he might have done much better but for the remissness of the
Secretary of War and General Dearborn. His mistakes and dilatoriness
bore very hard upon the brave fellows under him, who were burning with
patriotic zeal for the discomfiture of the foe, and he perceived that,
though they obeyed orders, there was a mutinous spirit among them
that could scarcely be restrained. Therefore he called a council of
field-officers, and by their advice it was agreed to march immediately
upon Malden.

"Orders were at once issued for all the needful preparations and
received with universal joy by the little army of men longing to defend
their country.

"But before these were completed, or the long summer day was quite
over, there came another order from the commanding general; an order
for the army to recross the river to Detroit--abandoning Canada and
its people to the vengeance of the British; leaving unprotected its
inhabitants, who, trusting Hull's promised protection, had refused
to take up arms for defence against the Americans. That order was in
consequence of news which had reached Hull that a considerable force of
British regulars, militia, and Indians were coming to attack the little
army in the rear."

"Did our soldiers like to go back without fighting the British first,
papa?" asked Elsie.

"No, my child, not at all; but they were obedient soldiers, and did
as they were ordered by their commander, though sullenly, feeling
themselves humiliated by being compelled to act like cowards. During
that night and the next morning they crossed the deep, dark river and
encamped on the rolling plain back of Fort Detroit.

"Not quite all of them, however. Major Denny, with 130 convalescents,
and a corps of artillerists, under Lieutenant Anderson, were left
behind in a strong house that had been stockaded and called Fort
Gowris. Denny was ordered to defend the post to the last extremity,
so long as attacked with only musketry, but to leave it if powerful
artillery should be brought against it.

"Hull and his army were in need of supplies, which he knew were being
sent him under the command of Captain Brush, who had come as far as the
River Raisin, but was detained there by the knowledge that a party of
Indians under Tecumseh, with perhaps some British regulars, had crossed
the Detroit from Malden and were lying near the mouth of the Huron
River, twenty-five miles below Detroit, for the purpose of seizing the
men, cattle, provisions, and mail that Captain Brush had in charge.

"Brush had asked Hull to send him an escort. Hull at first flatly
refused; but, after much persuasion on the part of his officers,
despatched Major Van Horn with a detachment of two hundred men to join
Brush and help convoy the cattle, provisions, and mail. The major
obeyed promptly, but was not successful; being surprised by the
Indians, who lay in ambush and attacked him by the way. The Americans
fought gallantly, but lost seventeen killed and several wounded.

"When the news reached the fort Hull was greatly disconcerted. His
officers urged him to send a larger force to the aid of Brush--as many
as five hundred; but he refused. 'I can spare only one hundred,' he
said.

"That, as the officers knew, would not be enough; so, though indignant
and alarmed for the safety of Brush and the needed stores he was
bringing, they had to give up the hope of helping him for the present.

"But Hull perceived that his troops were angry and felt mutinous, and
it was then he called his officers together, and after consulting them
gave the orders for preparations to march upon Malden; but, as we
have seen, before they could be carried out he changed his mind and
ordered the army to cross the river to Detroit. He now felt the need
of securing the supplies under Brush and ordered Colonel Miller to
take six hundred men, go to that officer's assistance, and escort him
to Detroit. Before starting upon their perilous expedition the troops
paraded on the north side of Jefferson Avenue, and there Colonel Miller
addressed them as they stood in marching order. 'Soldiers,' he said,
'we are going to meet the enemy, and to beat them. The reverse of the
5th (that was Van Horn's) must be repaired. The blood of our brethren,
spilled by the savages, must be avenged. I will lead you. You shall
not disgrace yourselves or me. Every man who shall leave the ranks or
fall back without orders will be instantly put to death. I charge the
officers to execute this order.'

"Then turning to the veteran Fourth Regiment of regulars, he
said, 'My brave soldiers, you will add another victory to that of
Tippecanoe--another laurel to that gained upon the Wabash last fall. If
there is now any man in the ranks of the detachment who fears to meet
the enemy, let him fall out and stay behind.'

"He paused, and a loud huzza went up from the entire corps, and 'I'll
not stay! I'll not stay!' came from every lip.

"Miller led them to the River Rouge that night, and they bivouacked
on its southern shore, having crossed it in two scows. Early the next
morning they took up their march again, Major Thompson Maxwell, with
his spies, leading the way; next a vanguard of forty men under Captain
Snelling of the Fourth Regulars, while the infantry marched in two
columns, about two hundred yards apart, the cavalry keeping the road
in the centre in double file. The artillery followed, with flank guards
of riflemen at suitable distances. Marching in that order a line of
battle could be formed almost instantly, but it was slow and toilsome
work to move the cannon over the marshy ground along which their road
lay.

"It was Sunday morning, the weather sultry, the sky overcast with
clouds, not a leaf stirring on the trees; in the distance they could
see a few fleet Indians hurrying along; but nothing of much consequence
occurred until some time in the afternoon, when they were nearing the
Indian village of Maguaga, fourteen miles below Detroit. But there a
man named White, who had joined them as a new recruit, hurrying on
ahead of the rest, was shot from his horse near the cabin of an Indian
chief called Walk-in-the-Water, by some Indians concealed behind it,
and before the vanguard could reach the spot he was scalped.

"There were oak woods near Maguaga, which Captain Snelling and his
regulars reached between three and four o'clock in the afternoon. In
the meantime the flying savages the Americans had seen that morning,
and who were the scouts of Major Muir, the commander of the Forty-first
British regiment, had carried to him, in his camp at Brownstown, the
news that the Americans, strong in numbers, were advancing upon them.
There were in that camp 100 regulars, a good many Canadian militiamen,
and between 200 and 300 Indians. Lossing mentions 4 chiefs of note
among those--Tecumseh, Walk-in-the-Water, Split-log, and Lame-Hand.

"These troops had been sent over from Fort Maiden by Proctor to
repeat their doings of the 5th--when Van Horn was defeated--cut off
communication between Detroit and Captain Brush at the Raisin, and get
possession of the stores he was bringing.

"As soon as Muir and Tecumseh heard the news brought by the spies they
broke up their camp, hurried on to Maguaga, and formed an ambush in
the Oak Woods, where the trees and bushes were thick enough to conceal
them. There they watched for the coming of the Americans and were
joined by a fresh detachment of troops sent by General Brock.

"Snelling and his soldiers had just entered the clearing when there
came first a single shot, then the terrific yells of the scores of
savages, followed by a terrible volley from the whole British line."

"Oh, papa! then did our soldiers turn round and run back to the
others?" asked little Elsie.

"No, my child, they stood their ground and returned the fire like the
brave men and patriots they were. Colonel Miller heard the sounds and
he and his men started on the double quick, came up, and formed in
battle order, and as they did so he waved his sword high over his head,
crying in his clear, loud voice, 'Charge, boys! charge!' His order was
instantly, gallantly, and effectually obeyed, Lossing tells us, while
at the same time a six-pounder poured in a storm of grapeshot that
harmed the foe not a little.

"At the same time the Michigan and Ohio volunteers charged a body of
Indians at the left of the British and near the river, driving them
back, and causing them to flee; and the whites in the ranks of the
enemy, mistaking them for helpers of the Americans, fired upon them
also, and the Indians returned it. So that our foes were helping us by
fighting among themselves, and the mistake created such confusion in
the British ranks that they wavered, broke, and fled, leaving Tecumseh
and his Indians to bear the brunt of the fight.

"Muir rallied his men, in a good position, but the sound of firing in
the woods on their left alarmed them again, so that they ran away, got
in their boats, and fled across the river to Malden with all possible
expedition.

"After a little more fighting the Indians too broke, and Miller ordered
Sloan to pursue them. But he seemed to hesitate, and Snelling rushing
up to him gave him a peremptory order to dismount, sprang into the
saddle himself, and dashed away at the head of his troops, his red
hair streaming in the wind, for he had lost his hat in the course of
the fight. He pursued the flying foe for more than two miles; then
Lieutenant-colonel Miller, realizing the danger of an ambuscade, and
that night was approaching, and the wounded needed attention, ordered a
suspension of the chase."

"Ah, that was a victory!" exclaimed Walter; "one that ought to have
encouraged Hull to defend Detroit; it seems it didn't, though."

"Were there many killed in that battle, papa?" asked Grace.

"Of the Americans 18 were killed and 57 wounded," replied the captain.
"The British, according to their account, lost 24 of their regulars,
only 1 of whom was killed. They failed to mention how many of the
militia and Indians, but our troops found 40 of the Indians dead on the
field; how many of the militia, if any, I do not know.

"Miller was anxious to follow up his advantage, to press on to the
assistance of Captain Brush and the getting of his stores to Detroit;
so sent a messenger to Hull to carry the news of his successful fight
with the enemy and ask for a supply of provisions.

"In response Hull sent Colonel M'Arthur with 100 men and 600 rations,
ordering him to go down the river in boats to the relief of Miller and
his men. M'Arthur, who seems to have been always ready and prompt,
set out a little past two in the morning, in nine boats, and in the
darkness and rain passed the British vessels _Queen Charlotte_ and
_Hunter_, and reached his destination in safety.

"Then the wounded were at once carried to the boats to be taken to
Detroit. But it was now daylight, and it was found impossible to pass
the British vessels. Fortunately M'Arthur had foreseen that difficulty,
and ordered wagons sent down, and now leaving the boats he had the
wounded carried through the woods to the road, placed in the wagons,
and so taken the rest of the way to their destination."

"But what did he do with the boats, papa?" asked Elsie.

"The British took them," replied her father. "Colonel Cass had
gone down and tried to secure them, but the enemy had already got
possession.

"Miller had been thrown from his horse during the fight, and was too
much injured to press on immediately to the River Raisin. He sent a
messenger to Hull, and Cass met him on his way. He knew that time
was precious, that Proctor would be likely to send a larger force to
prevent our men from reaching Brush, and attack him himself. Therefore
Cass wanted to take Miller's place and hurry on with the detachment
to Brush's assistance, so he sent a laconic despatch to General Hull:
'Sir, Colonel Miller is sick; may I relieve him?--L. CASS.' No reply
came, and he returned to Detroit, meeting on the way an express
taking positive orders to Miller for him and his troops to return to
headquarters.

"Miller and his men were only twenty-two miles from the Raisin, and
were sorely disappointed by this order, but obeyed it, leaving their
camp at noon on the day after the battle, and going slowly back to
Detroit."

"Oh, I do think that was too bad!" exclaimed Lucilla. "I don't think I
could have obeyed such a man as Hull."

"It would have been even worse than rendering obedience to Captain
Raymond has sometimes proved, eh?" her father said, with a humorous
look and smile.

"Oh, ten thousand times, papa, dear!" she answered earnestly. "Haven't
you found out that for years it has been--almost always just a pleasure
to me to obey you?"

"It is long since I have felt at all doubtful of that, daughter," he
returned, in tender tones.



CHAPTER VI.


For a moment Captain Raymond seemed lost in thought. It was a question
from his daughter Elsie that caused him to resume the thread of his
narrative.

"Papa," she asked, "had the British got their guns all ready to fire at
the Americans when Colonel Miller and his men got back to Detroit? and
did they begin at once?"

"No; the British were still busy with their preparations, with which
General Hull did not seem disposed to interfere; and it was hard indeed
for his brave, patriotic officers to obey his orders to refrain from
doing so. They began to think he was either a traitor or an imbecile,
and by no means fit to have the command. They consulted together, and
concluded that salvation for the little army could be secured only by
depriving him of the command and giving it to another. Miller was asked
to take it, but declined and proposed M'Arthur, who was the senior
officer of the volunteers and one of the most vigilant, active, and
energetic men in the service.

"But when it came to carrying out their plans they hesitated to take
so bold a step. Relief might come soon from Ohio, Governor Meigs
accompany it in person, and then the honor could be properly tendered
him. Colonel Cass acted promptly upon that suggestion, writing to the
governor a very strong and urgent appeal for help to be forwarded with
all haste; telling him that the army was in a very critical situation
'from causes not fit to be put on paper'; that Maiden might easily
have been reduced, but the golden opportunity had been allowed to pass
unimproved. He asked for, at least, two thousand men, and that the
governor would accompany them.

"But before this letter had been shown to the other officers the
British were collecting in force at Sandwich, and Cass added a
postscript. 'Since the other side of this letter was written, new
circumstances have arisen. The British force is opposite, and our
situation had nearly reached its crisis. Believe all the bearer will
tell you. Believe it, however it may astonish you, as much as if
told by one of us. Even a c---- is talked of by e----. The bearer
will supply the vacancy. On you we depend.' The first blank meant a
capitulation, the second commanding general."

"But why didn't he say what he meant, papa?" asked Elsie.

"Because there was danger of the letter falling into the hands of the
wrong person. It was signed by Cass, Finley, M'Arthur, Taylor, and
Colonel Elijah Brush, of the Michigan militia."

"Was Major Denny still on the Canadian side, captain?" asked Evelyn.

"No; he had evacuated Fort Gowris and crossed the river to Detroit. On
his doing so the British under Captain Dixon of the Royal Engineers
immediately took possession and planted a battery so as to command
Detroit. The American artillery begged leave from Hull to open upon
them from the fort with twenty-four pounders, but were forbidden, and
the enemy was allowed to go on unmolested with his preparations to fire
upon Detroit."

"Well!" exclaimed Lucilla, "I'm sure that looked as if he was in league
with his country's foes; unless he had lost his reason."

"Yes," said her father, "yet I do not doubt his patriotism or his
intention to do what he deemed best under the circumstances; but he
was timid, and as I have said before, did not receive the help and
encouragement he had a right to expect from the Secretary of War or
General Dearborn, who failed to inform him of the armistice, which
would have enabled him to wait for the arrival of needed provisions
and reinforcements. And he was too honest himself to suspect the
deceptions the British practised upon him--dressing raw militiamen in
uniform and mixing them in with their regulars, sending a letter to be
intercepted by him, threatening a descent of five thousand Indians from
Mackinaw. But I think he owed it to the officers under him to consult
with them; which he did not do."

"Had the British got Captain Brush with the soldiers and provisions,
papa?" asked Elsie.

"No, he was still in the same place, waiting for reinforcements to
enable him to reach Detroit; and on the 14th Hull sent him word that
he could not spare a large enough detachment to escort him, and that
he might either stay where he was till further orders, or take a
roundabout course to avoid the enemy. But after the men had gone with
the letter Hull again changed his mind and sent M'Arthur and Cass with
350 men to escort Brush, who was supposed to be not more than 12 miles
away.

"They took a circuitous route, got entangled in a swamp, and could
not go on. They were without provisions, tired and hungry, and were
just preparing to bivouac for the night--for the evening twilight was
fading away--when a courier came with an order from Hull for them to
return immediately to Detroit. They obeyed and arrived there about ten
o'clock the next morning.

"At a little past noon of that day General Brock sent two of his
officers with a flag to bear a summons to General Hull for the
unconditional surrender of the post. 'The force at my disposal,' he
said, 'authorizes me to require of you the surrender of Detroit. It is
far from my inclination to join in a war of extermination, but you must
be aware that the numerous body of Indians who have attached themselves
to my troops will be beyond my control the moment the contest
commences.'"

"And Hull meekly surrendered without any more ado?" said Lucilla, in a
tone between assertion and enquiry.

"No, not yet," replied her father. "Poor man! really patriotic and
proud, he no doubt felt sorely tried and humiliated at the very thought
of surrender to his country's foes; at the same time, being ignorant
of the armistice and not knowing when succor would arrive, having only
a thousand men in fighting condition, his force wasting with disease,
disappointment, and death, it seemed to him very uncertain whether
he could keep the foe at bay till help would come; but his troops
were eager to measure strength with the enemy, and confident in their
ability to do so successfully.

"So difficult did Hull find it to decide what was the best and wisest
course of conduct that he kept the flag waiting two hours; but at
last he said to Brock's messengers that he had no other reply to make
than that he was ready to meet any force at his disposal, and any
consequence that might result.

"His own troops were greatly pleased when they learned what his answer
to Brock had been. They watched the return of the flag, and when it
reached the Canadian shore the bearers were startled by a loud huzza
from the American fort and camp. Our brave soldiers believed and
rejoiced in the thought that the time for action had come, or was near
at hand; they were confident of victory, and at once set about the most
active preparations for the fight.

"Jesup, serving as adjutant-general to Hull, rode down to Spring Wells
to reconnoitre the enemy at Sandwich. He saw that the British vessel,
_Queen Charlotte_, had taken such a position that she could cover the
landing of the enemy there with her guns. He thought a battery might
be used to drive her away, so selecting a suitable spot for it, he
hastened back to Detroit, told Hull what he proposed to do, and asked
him to send down a twenty-pounder.

"Hull refused and Jesup rode back to the spot he wished to defend,
to find Snelling there with a few men and a six-pounder, occupying
the very place he had selected. By the way, it is said that Snelling
was to have been married that evening to a daughter of Colonel Thomas
Hunt, and that when about to leave the fort for Spring Wells, he asked
of Hull, 'If I drive the redcoats back, may I return and be married?'
and that General Hull consented, and the marriage took place that same
evening.

"When Detroit was surrendered Snelling refused to raise the white flag,
and when marched as a prisoner through the streets of Montreal, being
ordered by a British officer to take off his cap to Nelson's monument,
he refused and kept it on in spite of the efforts of the soldiers to
enforce the order, and finally General Brock ordered them to respect
the scruples of a brave man."

"I respect and like Brock for that," said Walter. "He was a far better,
braver, nobler man than Proctor."

"He was indeed!" assented the captain. "Cruelty and cowardice usually
go hand in hand, and they were both prominent traits in Proctor's
character. But to return. Both Snelling and Jesup, perceiving that
the greater part of the British force was at Sandwich, hastened back
to Hull, and, reporting that fact to him, Jesup asked for 150 men to
go over and spike the enemy's guns opposite Detroit. Hull said he
could not spare so many. 'Give me one hundred, then,' entreated Jesup.
'Only one hundred,' added Snelling imploringly. Hull only replied that
he would consider it, and then took refuge in the fort; for at four
o'clock the British battery, whose guns Snelling and Jesup had proposed
to spike, began firing shot and shell upon the fort, the town, and the
camp. Then all the troops except Finley's regiment, which was stationed
three hundred yards northwest of the fort, were ordered within the
walls, crowding it far too much for comfort."

The captain paused, and Grandma Elsie remarked that she remembered
reading of some interesting occurrences given by Lossing in notes to
his history of the attack upon Detroit and its fort.

"One was that during the evening a large shell fell upon the roof of a
private dwelling, two stories high, and coming down through the roof
and upper floor, fell upon the table around which the family were
sitting, then through to the cellar, and they had just time to fly from
the house when the shell exploded, tearing it to pieces."

"That was a very narrow escape for them," remarked Violet.

"Please tell us some more, grandma," begged Neddie, and Grandma Elsie
kindly continued.

"There was a battery commanded by a brave soldier--Lieutenant Daliba,"
she said. "He stood on the ramparts during the cannonade, and when he
saw the smoke or flash of the enemy's cannon he would call out to his
men, 'Down!' and they would drop behind the parapet until the ball had
struck.

"Near the battery was a large pear-tree which was somewhat in the way,
and Colonel Mack, of the Michigan militia, ordered a young volunteer
named John Miller to cut it down. He made haste to obey, seizing an
axe and falling vigorously to work; but when he had cut about halfway
through the trunk one of the enemy's balls struck it and nearly
finished the work. The young man turned coolly toward the British and
called out, 'Send us another, John Bull; you can cut faster than I
can.'"

"Was the British soldier that fired it named John Bull?" queried Neddie.

"Why, that's what we call Englishmen, don't you know?" said his sister
Elsie. "And we are all Brother Jonathans. Aren't we, papa?"

"That's what they call us," returned her father, with a smile, "and
though not a very euphonious name, I, for one, prefer it to John Bull."

"So do I," she said.

"But Jonathan's a boy's name," objected Ned sturdily. "Men and boys can
be Jonathans, but women and girls can't."

"Well, I don't want to be," said Elsie. "It isn't a pretty name; but
John Bull's worse. Grandma, haven't you another little story to tell
us?"

"One more, which I found in Lossing's book," replied Grandma Elsie
pleasantly. "He says it is related that while cannonading was going on,
the shot striking thick and fast around the fort, a negro was seen on
its roof. He stood near a chimney, watching the firing of the British
on the other side of the river, and whenever he saw the smoke of a
cannon would spring behind the chimney till the shot had struck, then
peep out again.

"At length one struck the top of the chimney just over his head, tore
it to pieces, and covered him with brick and mortar. He jumped aside,
shaking himself free, as well as he might, from the dust and rubbish,
and exclaiming: 'What de debble you doin' up dar?' then hastened away
to find a safer spot."

"Wasn't that a bad, swearing word, grandma?" queried Ned.

"It was not a nice word," she answered. "I should be sorry indeed to
hear it used by my sons or grandsons."

"My papa never says such words, nor Maxie, nor any of my relations, and
I don't mean ever, ever to say them," said the little fellow, looking
up into his father's face.

"No, my son, I trust you never shall," returned the captain gravely,
laying a hand affectionately on the child's head.

"Please tell the rest, papa," pleaded little Elsie, and her father
resumed the thread of his narrative.

"The British kept up their bombardment until near midnight, our men
returning it with great spirit and disabling two of the enemy's guns.
About twilight someone proposed that as the fort did not command the
river, a strong battery should be placed near the margin of the river
and used in destroying the foe when they attempted to land. A suitable
place for the purpose was chosen, but Hull utterly refused to allow
the plan to be carried out; and in the early twilight of the next
morning--a beautiful Sunday morning--they were allowed to cross without
the least attempt being made to hinder them.

"Six hundred Indians, commanded by two British colonels and Tecumseh,
had crossed the night before and taken position in the woods to attack
the Americans in flank and rear should they attempt to hinder the
landing of the British regulars and militia, 770 strong with 5 pieces
of light artillery.

"They all breakfasted, then moved upon the fort--the whites in a
single column, their left flank covered by the Indians, a mile and a
half distant in the woods; their right resting on the Detroit River,
defended by the _Queen Charlotte_.

"Colonel Miller, with the Fourth Regiment, was now in the fort; the
Ohio volunteers with part of the Michigan militia were posted behind
the town palisades, to annoy the enemy's whole left flank. The rest of
the militia were stationed in the upper part of the town to keep back
the Indians, who had joined the British in order to be permitted to
plunder and kill the American whites.

"Our men were waiting, watching the cautiously approaching foe, eager
to fire upon them the moment they were in the best position to receive
the most destructive onslaught--for wives, children, and feeble aged
ones were in danger of becoming victims to their inhuman thirst for
blood and plunder, and that foe had reached a point within five hundred
yards of their line when there came a peremptory command from General
Hull for them to retreat within the fort.

"The soldiers were very angry but obeyed, while the enemy drew nearer
and prepared to storm the fort. The shot were coming thick and fast
now from the Canadian shore. A ball came bounding over the wall of the
fort and struck a group standing before one of the officer's quarters,
killing two officers and a surgeon and badly wounding another. The next
moment two other soldiers on the inside of the fort and two on the
outside were killed.

"There were women and children in the house where the officers were
killed, among them General Hull's daughter and her children. Some of
the women were bespattered with the blood of the slain, and almost
paralyzed with fear; some were carried senseless to the bomb-proof
vault for safety.

"The general saw the effect of the ball from a distance, and did not
know whether his own child was killed or not.

"Just then an officer of the Michigan militia in the town came to
ask if they alone were to defend it, as he had seen the approach of
the enemy without a gun being fired from the fort or the twenty-four
pounders outside; also to inform Hull that the Indians were at the
tan-yard, close upon the town. Hull did not answer his queries, but
stepped into a room in the barracks, hastily wrote a note, and handing
it to his son, Captain Hull, directed him to display a white flag
immediately from the walls of the fort, where it might be seen by the
British Captain Dixon, over the river.

"The order was promptly obeyed. The flag was a tablecloth. By order of
General Hull it was waved from one of the bastions by Captain Burton,
of the Fourth Regiment.

"The firing soon ceased, and in a few minutes Captain Hull was seen
leaving the fort with a flag of truce. At the same time a boat was
despatched across the river to Captain Dixon, commander of the battery
on the Canada shore.

"General Hull was acting without consultation with any of his officers,
and no one knew what were his intentions, but the sight of the white
flag upon the walls awakened painful suspicions, and presently the
arrival of two British officers, Colonel M'Donell and Major Glegg, made
it evident that the garrison was betrayed.

"Hull had acted entirely on his own responsibility, consulting no one,
and this quick surrender, without a single shot having been fired
upon the enemy, or an effort made to stay his course, was almost as
unexpected and unwelcome to the brave, patriotic men under him as a
thunderbolt out of a clear sky. So angry and indignant were they that
for a moment nothing but reverence for gray hairs and veneration for a
soldier of the Revolution, who had served his country well in that war,
saved him from personal violence at their hands; it is said that many
of them shed tears of mortification and disappointment.

"The terms of capitulation were soon settled, and Hull issued a general
order to his troops, stating that with pain and anxiety he announced to
the Northwest Army that a sense of duty had compelled him to agree to
articles of capitulation which he then enumerated.

"You will remember that he had sent Colonels M'Arthur and Cass toward
the River Raisin, then ordered them back; they were coming, but had
not yet arrived; he sent a messenger to meet them, with a note to
M'Arthur informing him of the surrender, and that he and his command
were included in it, as prisoners of war. They had drawn near enough to
Detroit to see the white flags that had silenced the British cannon,
reaching there thoroughly exhausted with marching and hunger--for Hull
had sent them off without provisions and failed to keep his promise to
send some after them; so that for forty-eight hours they had nothing to
eat but some green pumpkins and potatoes they had found in the fields.
As they went and came they had been observing the enemy, taking note of
his numbers and movements, and concluded that they might easily capture
him by falling upon his rear while the army at Detroit attacked him
in front. But what did the silence mean? The armies were within half
cannon shot of each other, but there was no firing; both seemed silent
as the grave, from where these listeners stood. Had there been any
evidence of fighting, M'Arthur would have fallen upon the rear of the
foe, without waiting for orders.

"But Hull's courier was seen approaching, and in a few moments more
these patriots heard the almost unbearable tidings that Hull had given
them up to the foe without an effort at self-defence.

"M'Arthur tried to communicate with Hull, but failed. He sent Hull's
note to Captain Brush, with a message from himself, 'By the within
letter you will see that the army under General Hull has been
surrendered. By the articles you will see that provision has been made
for your command; you will, therefore, I hope, return to Ohio with us.'

"Lossing tells us in a note that Captain Elliott, the son of Colonel
Elliott, with a Frenchman and Wyandot Indian, arrived at Brush's camp
on the Raisin, bearing a flag of truce, a copy of the capitulation at
Detroit, and authority to receive the surrender of Brush and his men.

"A lieutenant, the officer of the day, blindfolded Elliott and led
him to the block-house. Brush, when informed of Elliott's arrival and
on what errand, doubting his authority, had him arrested and placed
in confinement. On reading M'Arthur's letter, however, he learned his
mistake; but instead of releasing Elliott at once and complying with
Hull's order, he hastily packed up the public property at the Raisin,
and with his whole command and his cattle, started for Ohio, leaving
orders that Elliott should be kept in confinement until the next day.
Elliott was very angry, and sent for Tecumseh to pursue Brush; but it
was too late."

"Did M'Arthur do that way too, papa?" asked little Elsie.

"No; when on the evening of the 17th Colonel Elliott came with
authority from Brock to receive tokens of the submission of M'Arthur's
detachment, the dark eyes of that officer flashed with indignation,
then filled with tears of mortification; he thrust his sword into
the ground and broke it to pieces, then tore his epaulets from his
shoulders. But having in that way relieved his feelings, he became
calm and dignified, while in the dim twilight, Cass and their whole
detachment were marched into the fort and stacked their arms."

"Oh, how hard it must have been for M'Arthur, and all of them, indeed!"
exclaimed Lucilla.

"Were they shut up in jail, papa?" asked Elsie.

"The volunteers and militia with some of the regular officers, not of
high rank, were paroled and allowed to go home," replied her father.
"Those belonging to Michigan were discharged right there, the Ohioans
sent in a vessel to Cleveland, and there relieved from British control.
General Hull and the regulars were held as prisoners of war and sent to
Montreal."

"But that wasn't the worst for poor General Hull, was it, papa?" said
Grace. "The blame he got from the whole country, and being tried for
cowardice, condemned to be shot, and all the rest of it, I should
think, must have been far worse. Do you think he was really a coward
and so very much to blame, papa?"

"No," replied her father; "he was perhaps weak, but neither wicked
nor cowardly; he was very cautious, prudent, and anxious to save the
women, children, and aged men in the fort from falling into the hands
of the bloodthirsty, tomahawking, scalping savages. Had he known of
the armistice and that provisions and ammunition were coming, and had
Dearborn and the Secretary of War done their duty, the result might
have been very different. As it was, he was made the scapegoat for all."

"Poor man! I feel sorry for him," sighed Grace.

"As I do," said her father. "I have no doubt he did what he believed to
be his duty as a humane and Christian man. In parting at Detroit with
one of his aids he said to him, 'God bless you, my young friend! You
return to your family without a stain; as for myself, I have sacrificed
a reputation dearer to me than life, but I have saved the inhabitants
of Detroit, and my heart approves the act.' In his despatch to the
Secretary of War he generously said, 'I well know the responsibility of
the measure, and take the whole of it on myself.' And after alluding
to M'Arthur, Finley, Miller, and Cass in commendatory terms, he adds,
'If aught has taken place during the campaign which is honorable to the
army, these officers are entitled to a large share of it. If the last
act should be disapproved, no part of the censure belongs to them.'"

"That was noble and generous!" exclaimed Evelyn, with warmth, "and
it was shameful, shameful that all the blame was put upon him when
Dearborn and the Government were really so very much more deserving of
it."

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, in her own sweet, gentle tones, "and he bore
it in such a patient, Christian spirit; confident that his countrymen
would some day understand and do him justice. I have read that on his
deathbed he was asked whether he still believed he had done right in
surrendering Detroit, and he answered that he did and was thankful he
had been enabled to do it."

"I suppose," said Evelyn, "it was a great mistake, but he acted as he
deemed best for others and that at a great sacrifice of himself; so I
think he was a noble, generous man, worthy of all honor, and I am very
glad he was not made to suffer death, though I am not sure that what he
had to bear was not worse."

"Yes," exclaimed Walter, "and how I despise those mean fellows who put
all the blame on him when they themselves deserved a great deal more of
it than he!"

"How long did the British keep possession of Detroit, papa?" asked
Grace.

"Until Perry's victory on Lake Erie restored it to the Americans."

"Oh, that was a grand victory!" exclaimed Lucilla, with enthusiasm.

"Yes; the navy did well in that war," the captain said, with a smile
and a sparkle in his eye. "I have always felt a patriotic pride in the
achievements of Perry, McDonough, and Isaac Hull. The first two were
earnest Christian men and gave all the glory to God. I do not know, but
hope the gallant Hull was a Christian also."



CHAPTER VII.


The _Dolphin_ reached Detroit that evening, did not stop, but slowly
passed the city, which extends six or seven miles along the river, then
on down the stream, the captain pointing out historical scenes, now on
this side now on that.

They were already on Lake Erie before the older ones retired for the
night, passed Put-In-Bay and discussed with interest Perry's victory of
September 10, 1813, though, as all were familiar with the details of
the famous contest and triumph for the little American navy, the story
was not repeated.

"How many islands are there in the group, papa?" Grace asked, as they
neared them; "and to which State do they belong?"

"There are ten," he said, "and they are a part of Ottawa township,
Ohio. The group takes its name from the largest one, which contains
about two thousand acres. You can see there is a beautiful bay on this
north side: that is Put-In-Bay--it is what gives the name to the island
and is celebrated as the place where Captain Perry with his little
United States fleet on Lake Erie, in the last war with Great Britain,
of which we have been talking so much in the last few days, waited for
the coming of her fleet, and whence he sailed out to meet and conquer
it.

"It required great address and vigilance to make his little squadron
ready and get it into the lake, but spite of illness, head winds, and
being narrowly watched by the foe, he got safely out upon the lake just
as the British squadron hove in sight."

"Perry had difficulty in getting his vessels over the bar, had he not,
sir?" asked Walter.

"Yes; it was done by the use of camels; a very difficult operation."

"Camels, papa?" exclaimed Grace, with a puzzled look.

"Yes, daughter; not the camels of the desert, however," returned the
captain, giving her a slightly amused smile.

"Nautical camels are hollow cases of wood, made in two halves, so as
to embrace the keel and lay hold of the hull of a ship on both sides.
Those cases are first filled with water and sunk, in order to be fixed
on. The water is then pumped out, and while that is being done the
vessel gradually rises; and that process is continued till at length it
passes over the shoal."

"Perry must certainly have been a very persevering and energetic man,"
remarked Mrs. Travilla.

"He certainly was all that and more," returned the captain; "a brave,
patriotic, Christian man. It has been truly said that the courage with
which the _Lawrence_ was defended has been hardly, if ever, surpassed;
and that his real claim to fame rests less on his actual victory than
on the pluck, energy, and readiness to adapt himself to circumstances,
which he showed in the preparation of the two brigs and getting them
and the other vessels out in the lake, collecting sailors, etc. But
it is singular that the American public have always made so much more
of his victory over an inferior force, than of McDonough's on Lake
Champlain, which was won against decided odds in vessels, men, and
metal."

"Oh, papa!" cried Lucilla, in a slightly reproachful tone, "you are
really the last person I should have expected to try to belittle
Perry's hard-won victory."

"My child, I am not doing that," returned her father in gentle,
reproving accents. "I would not have Perry's fame lessened, but
McDonough's increased."

"Excuse me, papa dear, I might have known that," she responded
penitently.

"What is the name of that little island lying at the mouth of the bay,
captain?" queried Evelyn.

"Gibraltar," he replied; "it is picturesque and rocky, and on it stands
the monument commemorating the victory and its heroes."

"I should like to visit the island one of these days," said Grace.

"I hope to give you that pleasure at some future time," her father
said; "but now it is growing so late in the season that we must hasten
on our way if we would make even a flying visit to other and more
interesting and important points. The islands are worth visiting; the
scenery is lovely, and there is excellent boating, also fishing, in the
clear, shallow waters of the bay and lake."

"All that sounds quite appetizing," said Violet. "I think we might
be able to pass some days or weeks there very delightfully when not
hurried for time."

"There are a great many fine grapes raised here, are there not?" asked
Evelyn.

"Yes; grape growing and wine making are the principal industries; the
climate and soil being better suited to them than is any other in the
Union; or rather, I should say, on the Atlantic slope. Another item of
interest is a cave of considerable dimensions."

"Papa," asked Grace, "how long did that battle of Lake Erie last?"

"Three hours and a quarter. It was a sanguinary fight, ending in a
splendid victory for Perry, who was about twenty-seven years old, and
had never before borne part in a naval engagement."

"Yes, it was sanguinary; the carnage was terrible," said Mr. Dinsmore.
"What harrowing scenes there must have been!"

"Some comical ones, too," remarked Walter, with a chuckle. "I have read
somewhere that Perry's first lieutenant, Yarnall, came to him during
the fight and told him that all the officers of the first division were
either killed or wounded. I don't know that he mentioned himself among
them, but it was very evident that he had been hurt, for his face was
covered with blood from a wound in his forehead, his nose dreadfully
swollen by a blow from a splinter, and there was another wound in his
neck."

"He must have been a brave and persevering fellow to go on fighting
with all those hurts," said Grace. "But what was it he wanted of Perry?"

"More men to help with his part of the fight; and Perry let him have
them. But soon he came back on the same errand, and that time Perry
had to refuse. 'You must make out by yourself; I have no more to
furnish you,' he said. And now he could not help smiling at Yarnall's
appearance, for in addition to his swelled nose and the blood on his
face he was covered with cattails from the hammock mattresses that had
been struck and torn by the enemy's balls; they were sticking all over
his face and gave him much the aspect of a great owl. When he went
below after the fight was over, even the wounded men had to laugh at
his comical and hideous appearance."

"I remember reading of the narrow escape that fell to the lot of the
second lieutenant," said Rosie, when Walter had finished his little
anecdote, "he was standing close beside Perry, fighting his division,
when a grape-shot struck him in the breast, and he fell. Perry lifted
him up, and as there was no wound to be seen, told him to rally, for he
could not be hurt. He was only stunned into momentary unconsciousness,
and when able to speak, said, pulling out the shot, which had lodged in
his waistcoat, 'No, sir! I'm not hurt, but this is my shot.'"

"Yes," said Captain Raymond, "more than one man was shot and killed
while speaking to Perry. One was the captain of the gun whose tackle
had been shot away. Perry stepped nearer to him to see what was the
matter. 'I can fire, sir,' the sailor said, and was in the very act of
doing so when a twenty-four-pound shot struck him, passed through his
body, and he fell dead at Perry's feet."

"But Perry escaped unwounded, though freely exposing himself to danger
when necessary for the performance of duty," remarked Grandma Elsie. "I
have read that he said that he believed his wife's prayers had saved
him; I have no doubt that his mother's helped him, for I have read
that she was a Christian woman, and had brought him up in the fear
of the Lord. His young brother too--only twelve years old--escaped
wonderfully, shots passing through his clothes and hat, a hammock torn
from its fastenings by a ball knocking him down, and yet no wound being
made."

"Lieutenant John Brooks, a handsome young fellow, was another officer
shot while speaking to Perry," said Captain Raymond, "struck in the
thigh by a cannon ball that drove him some distance. It was a terribly
painful wound, so that he shrieked with agony, and besought Perry to
shoot him dead. Perry ordered him carried below, and while that was
being done a mulatto boy, his servant, rolled on the deck, crying out
that his master was killed. He had been acting as powder boy, and being
ordered to return to his duty did so with the tears rolling down his
cheeks all the time at the thought of his master's suffering!"

There was a moment of silence, broken by Grace.

"Oh, what a dreadful thing war is!" she sighed. "I hope we will never
have another. I think nothing could be worse."

"How about submission to despotism, Gracie?" asked Walter. "What sort
of condition would this country be in now had not our ancestors waged
those two wars with Great Britain?"

"Oh, yes! they were right on the side of America, dreadful as they
were," she acknowledged, "the choice being between fighting for freedom
or enduring unbearable oppression."

"That is true," he said; "better death than slavery; and had we tamely
submitted, instead of resisting as we did, we could never have become
the strong, free people that we are."

"And we may well, even yet, thank God for Perry's victory," said the
captain; "it led to the immediate evacuation of Detroit and the release
of the whole of Michigan Territory from British sway, with all the
horrors of Indian atrocities, murder, scalping, and fire. Also it
wiped away the disgrace of Hull's ignominious surrender of Detroit,
strengthened the hands of the Government, and gave great encouragement
to General Harrison and his brave and patriotic soldiers; indeed, to
all who were fighting for our country on both land and sea. Harrison
had completed his arrangements for invading Canada, and Perry's vessels
were used in carrying his army there. That is, the _Niagara_ and the
lighter vessels of both squadrons.

"One of the measures Harrison had taken for raising the needed
complement of troops had been a call upon Governor Shelby of Kentucky,
for fifteen hundred men, accompanied by the generous offer to yield
the chief command to him, Shelby to be the guiding head and Harrison
himself the hand.

"Shelby was one of those who had battled for his country in the days
of the Revolution; one of the leaders of the militia who defeated the
banded Tories under Major Ferguson on King's Mountain, South Carolina,
on the 7th of October, 1781. His valor was conspicuous on that
occasion, and he had since been familiarly styled Old King's Mountain."

"A very old man in 1813, I suppose," said Grace.

"Sixty-three," replied her father. "In these days we would hardly
consider a man of that age extremely old, though certainly not young.
Young enough, however, for Harrison's invitation to rouse his martial
spirit to such an extent that he resolved to lead, instead of sending
his men against the enemies of his country. He called for mounted
volunteers to assemble at Newport, opposite Cincinnati, at the close of
July, promising to meet them there in person, lead them to the field of
battle, and share with them the dangers and honors of the campaign.

"That call seemed to electrify the people of Kentucky. Young men and
veterans vied with each other in enthusiasm, exchanging urgent calls
to rally to the defence of their country, for Old King's Mountain
would certainly lead them to victory. Twice the required number of men
flocked to his standard, and, including Colonel R. M. Johnson's troop,
he led 3500 in the direction of Lake Erie.

"On the 12th of September he reached Upper Sandusky, from there he
pushed forward with his staff, and on the way heard the glad tidings of
Perry's victory. He despatched a courier with the news to Major-General
Henry, whom he had left in command of his troops, bidding him hasten
forward with them.

"They, and the whole country as well, were greatly inspirited, filled
with joy and exultation by the glad tidings; for that victory relieved
the whole region of the most gloomy forebodings of evil, leading,
as it did, to the destruction of the Indian confederacy, which, in
conjunction with the British military power, had been the cause of so
much awful suffering and loss to men, women, and children suffering by
fire, sword, tomahawk, and scalping knife, and removing the stigma of
the surrender of Detroit.

"That victory was one of the most important events of the war, opening
the way for Harrison's army to penetrate into Canada and to our
repossession of the territory of Michigan. Also removing all doubts of
the ability of the Americans to maintain the mastery of the great lakes.

"A poet of the time concluded an epic with these lines:

    "'And though Britons may brag of their ruling the ocean,
      And that sort of thing, by the Lord I've a notion--
    I'll bet all I'm worth, who takes it?--who takes?
      Though they're lords of the sea, we'll be lords of the lakes.'

"Well, to go on with my story, by the 16th the whole army of the
Northwest, except the troops garrisoning Fort Meigs and minor posts,
were on the borders of Lake Erie. Shelby arrived there on the 14th,
only a few minutes before a part of Perry's squadron came in, bringing
three hundred British prisoners. A few days later they were marched to
Chillicothe and Franklinton, escorted by a guard of Kentucky militia.

"And now Harrison made preparations to embark his army. Colonel Johnson
was directed to remain at Fort Meigs with his mounted regiment till
the expedition should sail, then march toward Detroit, keeping as
nearly as possible abreast of the army on the transports, and General
M'Arthur, at that time in command of Fort Meigs, was directed to
embark artillery, provisions, and stores from that post, and march the
regulars there, with Clay's Kentuckians, to the Portage.

"It was on a delightful day, the 20th of September, that the army
embarked. On the 24th they rendezvoused on Put-in-Bay Island, and the
next day were on the Middle Sisters, five thousand men encamping on its
six or seven acres."

"A good many horses besides, I presume," remarked Walter.

"No," said the captain, "the Kentuckians left their horses on the
peninsula and were acting as infantry.

"On that day General Harrison and Perry sailed in the _Ariel_ to
reconnoitre the enemy at Malden. They were entirely successful, and
returned at sunset. An order was issued that evening, giving directions
for the embarking of the troop, stating the place and manner of
landing, the order of march, the attack upon the enemy, and other
particulars.

"The order, signed by General E. P. Gaines, exhorted his brave troops
to remember that they were the sons of sires whose fame was immortal;
that they were to fight for the rights of their insulted country, while
their opponents would combat for the unjust pretensions of a master.
'Kentuckians,' he said, 'remember the River Raisin, but remember it
only while victory is suspended. The revenge of a soldier cannot be
satisfied upon a fallen enemy.'

"It was on a lovely autumnal day, September 27, that the expedition
finally set sail, in sixteen armed vessels and almost one hundred
boats. They were all in motion at nine o'clock, going northward toward
the hostile shore, and then Harrison's stirring address was read to the
men on each vessel. At its conclusion there went up a hearty shout for
'Harrison and victory'; then all moved on silently into the Detroit
River. Lossing tells us the spectacle was beautiful and sublime.

"The landing place selected by Harrison and Perry was Hartley's Point,
opposite the lower end of Bois Blanc Island, and three or four miles
below Maiden. A low, sandy beach stretched out in front of high sand
drifts, behind which the enemy were supposed to be lying in wait, and
our troops landed in battle order--Kentucky volunteers on the right,
regulars on the left, Ball's Legion and the friendly Indians in the
centre.

"But no enemy was there. The cowardly Proctor, in spite of the
indignant remonstrances of Tecumseh, had fled northward with his army
and all he could take with him; leaving Fort Maiden, the storehouses,
and navy buildings smoking ruins. Beside that, he had seized all the
horses of the people of the neighborhood to help him in his flight."

"The poor people! poor, abused creatures!" exclaimed Grace, adding,
"and probably they were much frightened lest the Americans should treat
them still worse."

"If so, their fears were soon relieved," replied her father; "for as
our troops drew near the town, Governor Shelby in advance, they were
met by a troop of modest, well-dressed women, who came to implore mercy
and protection. The kind-hearted general soon calmed their fears.

"The army moved on and entered Malden with the band playing 'Yankee
Doodle.' They learned that the enemy's rear guard had not been gone an
hour, and Colonel Ball at once sent an officer and twenty men of his
cavalry after them to prevent the destruction of a bridge over the
Tarontee. They were just in time to save it, driving the incendiaries
off with a single volley.

"The next morning Harrison crossed it with all his army, excepting a
regiment of riflemen left at Amherstburg. At two o'clock on the 29th
they entered Sandwich, and the American flotilla reached Detroit,
which, you will remember, is opposite, on the western side of the river
of the same name. The next day Colonel Johnson and his mounted regiment
arrived there."

"Were not the British still in possession of Detroit, papa?" asked
Lucilla.

"No; M'Arthur, with seven hundred effective men, had crossed over
shortly before and retaken the town, driving off a body of Indians who
were hovering about it. Also General Harrison had, to the great joy of
the inhabitants, declared Proctor's proclamation of martial law null
and void, and the civil government of Michigan restored.

"On Johnson's arrival he received an order from Harrison to cross the
river at once with his troops, as he (Harrison) was resolved to push on
after the enemy as rapidly as possible. There were two roads, either
of which might be taken in the pursuit--by land in the rear of the
British, or by Lake Erie to Long Point, and thence across the country.
Harrison called a council of his general officers to consider the
question, and it was decided to take the land route.

"It was said that Proctor was encamped near Chatham on the Thames; so
that was the place for which the whole army of the Americans, except
M'Arthur's brigade, left at Detroit, and Ball's and Cass', left at
Sandwich, marched on the morning of October 2.

"Two days before that Perry had learned that some small vessels
carrying the artillery and baggage of the British had gone up Lake
St. Clair toward the Thames. He sent some of his vessels in pursuit,
followed them in the _Ariel_, accompanied by the _Caledonia_, and on
the day that Harrison left Sandwich the whole of the little squadron
appeared off the mouth of the Thames with the provisions, baggage, and
ammunition wagons of the American army."

"Had he taken the enemy's vessels?" asked Evelyn.

"No," replied the captain; "they had too much the start of his, and
escaped up the Thames. It is said that when the army reached the mouth
of that river an eagle was seen hovering above it; and that Harrison
remarked to those about him that it was a presage of success, and
Perry, who had landed and was with the general, added the information
that an eagle was seen hovering over his little squadron on the morning
of the 10th of September."

"The day when he fought his naval battle," remarked Grace. "Don't you
suppose, papa, this eagle may have been the very same?"

"I think it quite likely," was the reply.

"And it reminds me of the young gamecock that flew upon a gun-slide
on the _Saratoga_, McDonough's flagship, early in the naval battle of
Plattsburg, clapped his wings and crowed so lustily and defiantly,"
said Walter.

"And me of 'Old Abe,' the eagle present in so many battles of the Civil
War," said his sister Rose. "But please go on with your story of the
battle of the Thames."

"To go back to the morning of October 2, when Harrison and his troops
left Sandwich," continued the captain. "We are told that they pushed on
rapidly for 20 miles along the border of the lake, there came upon 7
British deserters who told the general that Proctor, with 700 white men
and 1200 Indians was encamped at Dolsen's farm, about 15 miles from the
mouth of the Thames, on its northern bank, and 56 miles from Detroit
by water. This news roused the Americans to still greater exertions,
and when they halted for a night's rest they had marched 25 miles from
Sandwich, their starting point.

"The pursuit was renewed the next morning at dawn, and near the mouth
of the Thames Johnson captured a lieutenant and eleven privates, who
had just begun to destroy a bridge over a small stream emptying into
that river. That made it evident to the Americans that Proctor had
heard they were in pursuit of him and they hastened on, hoping to
overtake, fight, and defeat him. That night they encamped on Drake's
farm, four miles below Dolsen's.

"As the troops moved on, Perry's vessels had passed up the river
to cover their movements when they should cross the Thames or its
tributaries; but here there was a change in the character of the banks;
below the river flowed on between prairies, its channel broad, its
current sluggish, but here the country became hilly, the stream narrow
and rapid, the banks high and wooded, affording convenient places for
Indian ambuscades, from whence shots could be fired down upon the
passing vessels below. So it was thought better not to take them any
higher up the stream than Dolsen's, and Perry landed and offered his
services to Harrison as volunteer aid; so joining the army in the
exciting pursuit of the foe.

"The cowardly Proctor--much to the disgust of Tecumseh--fled up the
Thames 28½ miles from Dolsen's to Chatham, where an impassable stream
called M'Gregor's Creek empties into that river. On reaching the spot
he said to Tecumseh, 'Here we will defeat Harrison or lay our bones.'

"Tecumseh was pleased with both the speech and the spot, and remarked
that when he looked at these streams he would be reminded of the
Tippecanoe and the Wabash.

"Two bridges--one at the mouth of the creek and the other at a mill
a mile above, had been partially destroyed, and at each was a party
of Indians ready to dispute the passage of the Americans should
they attempt to cross or to make repairs; but Major Wood, with two
six-pounder cannon, and Colonel Johnson with his horsemen, soon sent
them flying after Proctor."

"Was anybody hurt in either fight, papa?" asked Grace.

"Yes; 2 men of Johnson's party were killed, and 6 or 7 wounded. The
Indians had a large number wounded and 13 killed. It was here that the
chief Walk-in-the-Water with 60 warriors came to Harrison and offered
to join his army conditionally. But Harrison had no time to attend to
him, so told him if he left Tecumseh, he must keep out of the way of
the American army."

"Did he do it, papa?" asked Elsie.

"Yes, he went back to the Detroit River."

"And did the Americans go on chasing the British, papa?"

"Yes, and the British retreating, destroying all they could on the way,
firing houses and vessels containing military and naval stores as they
went, the Americans following, putting out the fires and saving houses,
vessels, stores as far as possible.

"But they did not catch up to the British that night; they encamped and
Harrison set a double guard; which was well, for at midnight Proctor
and Tecumseh reconnoitred the camp, but did not venture to attack it.

"At dawn the Americans were again in motion, the mounted regiments in
front, led by General Harrison and his staff, the Kentucky volunteers
under General Shelby following. It was not long before they had
captured two of the enemy's gunboats and several bateaux with army
supplies and ammunition, and some prisoners.

"It was only nine o'clock when they reached a place where the river
was fordable by horses. Harrison decided to cross there and each of
the mounted men took an infantryman on his horse behind him; others
crossed in the bateaux, and by noon the whole American army was on the
north side of the river."

"I should think they must have been tired," said little Elsie. "Didn't
they stop to rest a while, papa?"

"No, indeed," replied her father, stroking her hair and smiling down
into the interested little face upturned to his, "they were much too
eager to catch and defeat their country's foes. They hastened on
as rapidly as possible, passing on their way many evidences of the
rapidity of Proctor's retreat.

"It was two o'clock and they were eight miles from the crossing place
when they came upon smouldering embers that showed where the enemy's
rear guard had been but a short time before. By that they knew they
were not far behind the foe, and Colonel Johnson dashed forward to
learn their exact whereabouts.

"It was not long before he had captured a British wagoner who told him
that Proctor had halted only three hundred yards farther on. Johnson,
with Major James Suggett and his spies, moved cautiously on, and found
the British drawn up in battle order, waiting for the coming of the
Americans.

"He, Johnson, learned enough about their position to enable General
Harrison and a council of officers, held on horseback, to decide
upon the best order for the attack. The American army now consisted
of a little more than 3000 men--120 regulars of the 27th Regiment, 5
brigades of Kentucky volunteers under Governor Shelby, and Colonel
Johnson's regiment of mounted infantry.

"The foe had made choice of a good place to make a stand. On one side
was the Thames River, with high and precipitous bank, on the other a
marsh running almost parallel with the river. Between the two, about
three hundred yards from the river, was a narrow swamp with a strip of
solid ground between it and the large marsh. Almost the whole space
between the river and the marsh was covered with forest trees--oaks,
beeches, and sugar maples, with very little undergrowth.

"The British regulars were formed in two lines between the river and
the small swamp; their artillery planted in the road near the bank
of the stream. The Indians were posted between the two swamps, those
commanded by Tecumseh in person on the isthmus or narrowest point.

"At first Harrison arranged for the horsemen to fall back and let the
infantry make the first attack, which would begin the battle; next the
cavalry were to charge the British. But when all the preparations were
completed Major Wood, who had been reconnoitring the enemy's position,
informed Harrison that the British were drawn up in open order, and,
though contrary to all precedent, the general immediately decided to
change his plan of attack. Instead of having the infantry fall upon the
British front he ordered Johnson to charge their line with his mounted
troops.

"In explaining his motive for the change, in a report rendered
afterward to the Secretary of War, he said: 'The American backwoods men
ride better in the woods than any other people. A musket or rifle is no
impediment, they being accustomed to carrying them on horseback from
their earliest youth. I was persuaded, too, that the enemy would be
quite unprepared for the shock, and that they could not resist it.'

"The event speedily proved the wisdom of the decision. The general's
orders were promptly obeyed, then a bugle sounded, and the Americans
moved coolly forward, neither hesitating nor with undue haste, among
huge trees, over fallen timber, and through the undergrowth, those
impediments in their path compelling them to move slowly.

"While they were still at some distance from the front line of the
British regulars the latter opened upon them with a severe fire, which
caused some confusion at the head of the column, the horses of some
of them taking fright; and before order was restored there came second
volley. Then with a tremendous shout the American cavalry boldly dashed
upon the British line and broke it, scattering it in all directions.
Then the second line, thirty paces in the rear, was treated in the same
way, and the horsemen wheeled right and left, pouring a destructive
fire upon the rear of the confused and broken columns, so increasing
their panic that they threw down their arms and surrendered as fast as
they could.

"Lossing tells us that in less than five minutes after the first shot
was fired the whole British force, more than eight hundred strong, were
totally vanquished, and most of them made prisoners; only about fifty
men and a single officer escaping."

"Ah, that was a victory to be proud of!" cried Lulu. "And what became
of the brave Proctor, papa?"

"He fled from the field as fast as his horses would carry him, taking
with him his personal staff, a few dragoons, and some mounted Indians.
In the words of the old song

    "'When Proctor saw lost was the day,
      He fled La Tranche's plain:
    A carriage bore the chief away,
      Who ne'er returned again.'

"He was hotly pursued by a part of Johnson's corps under Major Payne."

"I think I remember, though, that they did not succeed in catching
him," remarked Rosie.

"No," said the captain; "ten of them continued the pursuit until dark,
but could not overtake him."

"Ah, it seems he was better at running away than at fighting," said
Walter; "but if I remember right, he had to abandon his fine carriage."

"He did so; left the road and escaped by some bypath," replied Captain
Raymond. "So rapid and masterly was his retreat that within twenty-four
hours he was sixty-five miles distant from his starting point--the
battle ground."

"And the American officers and men got nothing for their long chase,
papa?" Grace said enquiringly.

"A trifle more," returned the captain, with a slightly amused look:
"Major Wood captured Proctor's carriage, sword, and valuable papers.
There were some beautifully written letters from Proctor's wife, in
which she addresses him as 'Dear Henry.'"

"'Dear Henry,' indeed!" cried Lucilla scornfully. "I could never love
such a coward. Nor--nor such a cruel wretch--delighting in seeing men,
women, and children tortured by the savages, if he didn't take part
in it with his own hands. But you haven't finished the story of the
battle, papa."

"No, not quite. General Henry, with his advancing columns, was hardly
in sight of the combatants before that part of the battle was over; but
at the same time that one bugle sounded for that attack another was
heard on the left. Colonel Johnson and his troops moved against the
Indians almost at the same instant that the first battalion--under his
brother James and Major Payne--attacked the British regulars. He had
divided his force and led them--the second battalion--across the little
swamp to attack the Indian left. They were in front of Shelby, with
a company of infantry. Harrison had taken a position on the extreme
right, near the bank of the river, where he could observe and direct
all the movements, and with him were Adjutant-General Butler, Commodore
Perry, and General Cass.

"Tecumseh's savages reserved their fire till the Americans were within
a few paces of them, then hurled upon them a deadly shower of bullets,
wounding General Johnson very severely, and prostrating more than half
his vanguard of forlorn hope. On this part of the field the undergrowth
and the branches of the trees were too thick to allow mounted men to
do much service with their rifles, therefore Johnson ordered them to
dismount and fight on foot at close quarters. They obeyed, and there
were many hand to hand fights, the Kentuckians as they fought raising
now and again the fearful cry, 'Remember the River Raisin.'"

"What did they mean by that, papa?" asked Elsie.

"I will explain that at another time," he replied. "You may ask for the
story to-morrow. And now, to go on with this--for a while it seemed
doubtful which side would win; but General Shelby, perceiving it,
ordered the regiment of Lieutenant-Colonel Donaldson to the support
of Johnson, and General King to press forward to the front with his
brigade.

"The Indians had already recoiled from the shock of the Kentucky
riflemen, and now they fled; they were pursued and a scattering
running fight ended the battle. Proctor was running away as fast as he
could, like some hunted wild animal, and his savage allies scattered
themselves through the forest behind the larger swamp."

"Tecumseh with the rest, papa?" asked Elsie.

"No, my child, Tecumseh was lying dead on the field of battle. But for
his loss it is likely the Indians would have continued the struggle
for some time longer."

"Who killed him, papa?" she asked.

"No one can say certainly," replied her father, "though probably it
was Johnson. Tradition and history tell us that Tecumseh had wounded
Colonel Johnson with a rifle bullet, and was springing forward to
tomahawk him, when Johnson drew a pistol from his belt and shot him
through the heart. It is said that Johnson himself never either
affirmed or denied that his was the hand which slew Tecumseh. Probably
he did not really know whether the Indian he had killed was the great
chieftain or some other. However, it is certain that he, Tecumseh,
was slain in that battle,--as it seems he had predicted that he would
be,--and it is a question of little importance whose hand sped the
bullet or struck the blow that ended his career."

There was a moment of silence, broken by Grandma Elsie's soft voice:

    "'The moment was fearful: a mightier foe
      Had ne'er swung his battle axe o'er him;
    But hope nerved his arm for a desperate blow
      And Tecumseh fell prostrate before him.
    He fought in defence of his kindred and king
      With spirit most loving and loyal,
    And long shall the Indian warrior sing
      The deeds of Tecumseh the royal.'

"I presume you are right, captain, in thinking," she added, "that
even Johnson himself did not know whether the Indian he had shot was
Tecumseh, but as you have just said, the question is of no historical
importance. We do know, however, that Johnson behaved most gallantly in
the battle of the Thames and was sorely wounded in the hip, thigh, and
hand; the last from the Indian whom he shot. He was disabled and said
to his friend, Dr. Theobald, one of his staff, fighting near him, 'I
am severely wounded: where shall I go?' Theobald, saying, 'Follow me,'
led him across the smaller swamp to the road and the stand of Governor
Shelby's surgeon-general. Johnson was faint from the loss of blood, and
his horse, it would seem, was still more sorely wounded, for as his
master was lifted from his back he fell dead."

"Oh, did the man die too, grandma?" asked little Elsie, with a look of
eager interest and concern.

"No, dear; they gave him water, dressed his wounds, and carried him on
board a vessel they had taken from the British. Captain Champlin, the
commander of the _Scorpion_, was there on it; he took the colonel down
the river in that vessel to his own, lying at Dolsen's, and from there,
in her, to Detroit."

"Papa, did he get well and go back and fight some more?" asked Ned.

"No, my son; he went into Congress and served his country well there.
But now it is high time for you and Elsie to go to your berths. Bid us
all good-night; to-morrow you may ask as many questions as you please,
and papa will answer them to the best of his ability."



CHAPTER VIII.


The wind had risen while Captain Raymond was talking, and now began
to blow briskly, bringing with it an occasional dash of rain; a state
of affairs that presently sent the whole party into the cabin, and a
little later they had all retired to their staterooms but the captain
and his two older daughters, who lingered a few moments for the bit of
chat with their dearly loved father of which they were so fond.

"Do you think we are going to have a hard storm, papa?" Grace asked a
little anxiously, as she came to him to say good-night.

"I hope not," he said, "do not be anxious; remember, 'the Lord hath his
way in the whirlwind and in the storm, and the clouds are the dust of
his feet. He rebuketh the sea and maketh it dry.' Remember, too, that
'the Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; and He knoweth
them that trust in Him.'"

"Oh, yes! Thank you for reminding me of those sweet words, father,
dear," she returned with a sigh of relief, and laying her cheek
affectionately against his as he put an arm about her and held her
close for a moment. "I will trust and not be afraid."

"That is right, daughter," he said; "no real evil can befall us while
trusting in Him."

"But, papa, Christians do have great and real distresses sometimes,"
she returned, with an enquiring and slightly troubled look up into his
face.

"Yes, daughter, 'Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth and scourgeth every
son whom he receiveth.' But 'like as a father pitieth his children so
the Lord pitieth them that fear Him;' and He will sustain them under
all the troubles that He sends. Remember that His promise is, 'As thy
days, so shall thy strength be.'"

"Such a sweet, precious promise, papa!" she said. "I will just put my
dear ones and myself in His care, trust in Him, and not lie awake,
dreading shipwreck."

"That is what I would have you do, my darling," he returned. "Do not
forget those sweet words of Holy Writ: 'The Lord knoweth them that
trust in Him,' nor the promise that He will never leave or forsake
them. Put yourself into His care and go to sleep untroubled by doubts
and fears. Good-night," he concluded, as he kissed her tenderly and let
her go.

"And how is it with my dear eldest daughter?" he asked, turning to
Lucilla, who stood near awaiting her turn.

"I am not naturally so timid as Gracie, you know, papa," she answered,
smiling up into his face as he passed an arm about her and drew her
close to his side, while with the other hand he smoothed her hair
caressingly, "and I do believe that God will take care of us all
through the instrumentality of my own dear father, who knows so well
how to manage a vessel in calm or storm. But you do not think there is
much if any danger, do you, papa?" she asked, gazing searchingly into
his face, "for you are not looking at all anxious."

"There is a pretty stiff breeze," he said, "and Erie is a stormy lake,
owing to the shallowness of its waters, and the consequent liability
to a heavy ground swell which renders its navigation particularly
difficult and dangerous; but I have passed over it a number of times
and do not feel any great amount of anxiety in regard to our safety--if
I attend properly to my duty as commander of the _Dolphin_," he
concluded, with his pleasant smile. "I must return to the deck, now;
so good-night, daughter dear. May you sleep sweetly and peacefully,
trusting in the care of your earthly father, and still more in that of
your heavenly one."

"Oh, just one minute more, papa," she said entreatingly, as he released
her. "I--I want to say that I am afraid that I was--almost, if not
quite, a little disrespectful to you once or twice to-day."

"Ah! Well, darling, if you have been, it is entirely forgiven; so go to
your bed in peace. I must hurry on deck and cannot wait to talk with
you further now."

With the concluding words he hastened away, while she looked after him
with eyes full of filial love, then as he disappeared she made her way
as quickly as the rolling of the vessel would allow, across the saloon
and joined her sister in their stateroom.

There were tears in Grace's sweet blue eyes as she lifted them to her
sister's face.

"What, crying, Gracie darling?" Lulu asked, with concern.

"Yes; to think of poor papa out on deck in the wind and rain, while we
are so comfortable in here," answered Grace with a sob, pulling out her
handkerchief to wipe her eyes. "Oh, I almost wish I were a big, strong
sailor, and knew all about managing a vessel, so that I could take his
place and have him to his berth to rest and sleep."

"I'm sure I wish I could," sighed Lulu. "He should never have an ache
or pain of any kind if I might bear them for him; never be anything
but the happiest man in the world if----" but she paused suddenly,
while a vivid blush suffused her face. "I have no right to talk so,"
she added in a remorseful tone, "I, who so often fail to be the
perfectly respectful and cheerfully obedient daughter that I ought."

"I really think you judge yourself very hardly, Lu," remarked Grace,
with a surprised glance into her sister's face. "You are always
perfectly obedient and very affectionate toward our dear father,
seeming to take great delight in doing everything you can to please him
and add to his comfort; I really do not think he has a child who loves
him better or does more for his comfort; no, not even I, who esteem him
the very best and dearest father in the world," she concluded, with a
look and smile that said more than her words.

"Oh, thank you, Gracie! I do love him dearly, dearly; but as you know I
am shamefully quick-tempered and wilful and sometimes look vexed at a
reproof or prohibition, then the next minute could beat myself well for
it."

"Lu, you never, never are in a passion nowadays!" exclaimed Grace. "I
own you do look vexed sometimes for a minute or two, but then it's all
over and you are just as sweet and pleasant as anyone could wish. Oh,
you are just the dearest, dearest girl! Ah, you needn't shake your
head and look so dolorous," she added, in a playful tone, putting her
arms about Lucilla and kissing her with ardent affection.

"Ah, yes, you are all so dear and loving, so ready to excuse my
faults," Lulu said, returning the embrace with interest. "No one more
so than our dear father, though I well know I have given him more
pain and trouble than any other of his children, if not than all put
together. Gracie, let us kneel down together and ask God to take care
of papa and all of us, and that if it is His will the storm may soon so
abate that our dear father can go to his berth and get a good night's
rest."

Grace was more than willing, and they spent some minutes in earnest
supplication.

In that act of prayer Grace cast all her care upon the Lord, and
scarcely had she more than laid her head upon her pillow before she
fell asleep; but Lucilla lay for hours listening to the howling of
the wind, the sound of the waves dashing against the sides of the
vessel, her father's voice occasionally giving an order through the
speaking trumpet, and the hurried and heavy tread of the sailors as
they hastened to obey. It seemed a worse storm than any she had ever
been in upon the water, and almost her every breath was a prayer for
the safety of the yacht with all its living freight--especially her
dearly loved father, now exposed to the fury of the wind, waves, and
rain--that they might pass through it in safety.

But at last she fell into a deep sleep, and for some hours heard and
felt nothing of the storm. Yet it was not over when she awoke; she
could still hear the howling of the wind, the rush of the waters, and
feel the rolling and pitching of the vessel. But it was daylight, and
slipping from her berth with care not to rouse her still sleeping
sister, she knelt for a moment of heart-felt thanks to her heavenly
Father, that thus far they had weathered the storm, and fervent
supplication that the vessel might outride it in safety to the end.

Rising from her knees she made a hasty toilet, then, anxious to learn
of her father's welfare, stole from the room, and holding on by the
furniture, crossed the saloon, then with some difficulty climbed the
cabin stairway and reached the windswept deck.

One glance showed her her father standing at a little distance, giving
some direction to a sailor. He did not see her. There was a momentary
lull in the wind, and taking advantage of it she started on a run
toward him. But just at that moment came another and fierce gust that
took her off her feet and swept her toward the side of the vessel.

In another instant she would have been in the water, had her father
not turned suddenly and caught her in his arms barely in time to save
her from that fate. He held her fast with one arm while he grasped the
railing with the other hand, and held on till the gale again moderated
for a moment. Then he carried her back to the cabin. They were alone
there, for the others were still in their staterooms. He strained her
to his breast in silence, and she felt a tear fall on her head.

"Thank God, my darling, precious child is safe in my arms!" he said at
last, speaking scarcely above a whisper, pressing his lips again and
again to her forehead, her cheek, her mouth.

"And my own dear father saved me," she said in quivering tones, her
arms about his neck, her face half hidden on his breast.

"It was a narrow escape, my child," he sighed, repeating his caresses,
"a very narrow escape; and what would I have done had I lost my dear
eldest daughter? You must not try it again; don't venture on deck again
until I give you permission."

"I will not, papa," she returned. "But oh, haven't you been up all
night? can't you take some rest now?"

"Not yet; perhaps after a little. There, there, do not look so
distressed," smoothing her hair caressingly as he spoke. "You must
remember I am an old sailor and used to such vigils. I had a cup of
coffee and a biscuit a while ago which quite refreshed me."

"But can't you go to your berth now and take some hours of rest and
sleep, papa, dear?" she asked entreatingly, her eyes gazing lovingly
into his. "Surely someone among your men must be fit to take charge of
the yacht for a while."

"Not just yet, daughter; perhaps before long I can do so. I must leave
you now and go back to my duties; and do you go to your stateroom and
thank your heavenly Father for your escape from a watery grave."

With that he released her and hurried away up the cabin stairs, she
following him with looks of yearning affection till he disappeared from
view, then hastening to obey his parting injunction.

Her heart was full of love and gratitude to God for her spared life,
and that thus far they had escaped shipwreck, and even as she gave
thanks it seemed to her that there was a lull in the storm--the wind
almost ceasing to blow and the vessel rocking much less.

"Oh, Gracie," she said, as she rose from her knees and perceived that
her sister's eyes were open, "I do think--I do hope that the worst of
the storm is over."

"Do you?" cried Grace joyously, hastily throwing back the covering and
stepping out upon the floor. "Oh, how glad I am! How good God has been
to us all! But where is papa? Has he been up all night?"

"Yes," replied Lulu, "and oh, Gracie, if it hadn't been for him I would
be at the bottom of the lake now," she added, with tears of gratitude
filling her eyes.

"Why, Lu!" exclaimed Grace in astonishment, "you surely did not venture
up on the deck in this storm?"

"I did, and was nearly blown into the lake, but papa caught me, held me
fast for a minute, then carried me down into the cabin."

"Oh, Lu! Lu! I hope you will never venture so again! I'd be
broken-hearted, and so would papa, and indeed, all the rest, if we lost
you in that way. What could I ever do without my dear, big sister?" she
concluded, putting her arms about Lucilla and holding her fast in a
most loving embrace.

"Oh, but it is nice that you love me so, Gracie, dear," Lulu returned.

"It was very foolish in me to venture on deck in such a gale, but papa
did not scold me at all; just held me fast, petting and caressing me
as if I were one of his greatest treasures."

"Of course," said Grace. "But didn't he forbid you to try going on deck
again before the wind dies down?"

"Yes," acknowledged Lulu. "Oh, I wish he could stay below too. I want
him to go to his berth and sleep off his fatigue. He must be very tired
after his long night's vigil. But it is nearly breakfast time, and we
should be making ourselves neat to appear at the table, looking as papa
would have us."

An hour later all had gathered about the table, the captain at the
head of it as usual, and looking cheerful and pleasant-tempered as was
his wont, though somewhat weary and worn. He reported the storm nearly
over, no serious damage done the vessel, nor much time lost. He hoped
to be in the Welland Canal before night, and that they would find
themselves on Lake Ontario when they woke in the morning.

"And can you not go to your berth for some hours' rest and sleep when
you have finished your breakfast, my dear?" queried Violet, with a
loving, anxious look into his face.

"Probably; after a short visit to the deck to see that all is going
right there. Excuse me, my dear," he added, pushing away his plate and
rising to his feet as he spoke. "I must return to my duties at once,
but would have everyone else finish the meal at leisure," and with the
last word he hurried away.

"My dear papa looks so tired, mamma," remarked little Elsie in
regretful tones, "what has he been doing?"

"Staying up all night to take care of us," replied Violet, the tears
shining in her eyes. "Don't you think we ought to love dear papa and do
all we can to make him happy?"

"Yes, indeed, mamma!" answered the little girl earnestly. "Oh, I hope
he can get a good sleep soon so that he will feel rested and well.
I was going to ask him to tell me about what happened at the River
Raisin. You know our soldiers, in that fight with the British and
Indians that he told us about yesterday, called out over and over
again, 'Remember the River Raisin,' and papa said he would tell me what
it meant if I would ask him to-day. But I can wait till to-morrow," she
added, with a sigh of resignation.

"How would it do for grandma to take your papa's place and tell you
the story?" asked Grandma Elsie, in cheerful tones, and with a loving,
smiling look at the little girl.

"Oh, nicely, grandma! I don't know but you could do it as well as papa
could," answered the child eagerly.

"Ah, dearie, it is a very sad story, and I think I shall have to make
it short," sighed Mrs. Travilla; "the details would but harrow up your
feelings unnecessarily."

"Bad doings of the British and Indians, grandma?" queried the little
girl.

"Yes; it was that, indeed!" said Mr. Dinsmore; "the latter part of
the tragedy a terrible slaughter of defenceless prisoners--tortured,
scalped, tomahawked, slain in various ways with the utmost cruelty;
many of them burned alive in the houses where they lay wounded, unable
to move. It was a fearful slaughter which Proctor, far from trying to
prevent, rewarded with praise and the purchase of the scalps."

"Oh, wasn't he a very, very bad man, grandpa?" exclaimed little Elsie.

"More of a devil than a man, I should say," exclaimed Walter. "I
remember reading an extract from a letter written a few days later,
from Fort Maiden, by a Kentuckian to his mother, in which he says,
'Never, dear mother, should I live a thousand years can I forget
the frightful sight of this morning, when hideously painted Indians
came into the fort, some of them carrying half a dozen scalps of my
countrymen fastened upon sticks and yet covered with blood, and were
congratulated by Colonel Proctor for their bravery."

"But all the British officers were not so cruel, Walter, my dear,"
said his mother. "I remember the story of the letter to which you
refer, and that the writer went on to say that he heard two British
officers talking of that scene together; that one of them, whose name,
he had been told, was Lieutenant-Colonel St. George, remarked to the
other that Proctor was a disgrace to the British army, that such
encouragement to devils was a blot upon the British character."

"Oh, please, grandma," cried little Elsie in distress, "I don't want to
hear any more of that story."

"No, dear, it is far from being a pleasant one, nor is it worth while
to harrow up your feelings with it," returned Mrs. Travilla. "I will
try to find some pleasanter one for you and Neddie boy to help you pass
the time agreeably while the storm prevents us from enjoying ourselves
upon the deck."

With that all rose and left the table to gather in the saloon for
morning worship, which, in the captain's absence, was conducted by Mr.
Dinsmore.

But the storm was abating so that in another half hour Captain
Raymond felt it safe to leave the deck and retire to his stateroom
for much needed rest and sleep, and the others could sit comfortably
in the saloon, the ladies with their fancy work, while Grandma Elsie
entertained the little folks with stories suited to their tender years.

Walter, too, was one of the listeners for a time, then with his
grandfather ventured upon deck to take an observation of the weather
and their surroundings. When they returned it was with the cheering
report that the storm had evidently spent its fury, the wind had nearly
died down, the rain ceased to fall, and the sun was struggling through
the clouds.

"Oh, then we can go up on deck, can't we, grandpa?" cried Neddie, in
eager tones.

"After a little, sonny," returned his grandpa, sitting down and drawing
the young pleader to his knee.

"When my papa wakes up?" queried Neddie, in a slightly disappointed
tone.

"Yes, indeed, Ned," said Lucilla, "for though I am so much older than
you, papa forbade me to go up there without his permission."

"Why did he, Lu?" asked Elsie in a tone of surprise; "and haven't you
been up there at all this morning?"

"Yes, I was, before papa had forbidden me--and would have been blown
into the lake if he hadn't caught me in his arms and held me fast."

"Oh, Lu, tell us all about it!" cried Ned, while the others who had
not heard the story expressed their surprise in various ways and asked
question upon question.

"There's hardly anything more to tell," replied Lucilla. "I know papa
is always on deck early in the morning, and as I wake early too, I have
a habit of running up there to exchange morning greetings with him.
That was what I went for this time, not at all realizing how hard the
wind was blowing, but I had scarcely set foot on the deck when it took
my skirts and sent me across toward the spot where papa stood holding
on to the railing with one hand, his speaking trumpet in the other. He
dropped that in an instant and threw his arm round me." As she spoke
she shuddered at the thought of her narrow escape from a watery grave,
and her voice trembled with emotion. Controlling it with an effort,
"You see," she concluded, "that I owe my life to my dear father,
and--and I love him even better than ever, though I thought before that
I loved him as much as was possible."

At that Violet dropped her work, went quickly to Lucilla's side, and
bending down over her, kissed her with warmth of affection.

"Oh, I am so glad--so thankful that he was able to do it," she said in
trembling tones and with tears in her eyes. "Dear Lu, it would have
broken our hearts to lose you in that sudden, dreadful way."

"As it would mine to lose you, dear Mamma Vi," returned Lucilla with
emotion, putting her arms about Violet's neck and returning her
caresses with interest, "for you are so very good, kind, and loving
that I have grown very fond of you. And I know it would break papa's
heart to lose you, even more than to lose me or all of his children."

"Oh, I hope he may never be so tried! for I know he loves us all very
dearly, as we do him," said Violet. "I don't know what any of us could
do without him."



CHAPTER IX.


The sun was just peeping above the horizon, the yacht moving swiftly
and steadily onward as Lucilla stepped from the companion-way upon the
deck, the next morning, having obtained permission the night before to
do so in case the quiet movements of the vessel made it certain she
would run no such risk as she had the previous day.

Her father was pacing the deck, and so near that he took her hand the
moment she appeared.

"My early bird, as usual! Good-morning, daughter mine," he said in
tender tones as he bent down and bestowed upon her the caress she never
failed to receive from him when first they met at the beginning of a
new day.

"Good-morning, dear, dear papa, yesterday's saver of my life," she
returned, in moved tones, putting her arms about his neck and pressing
her lips to his again and again. "Oh, father, surely I belong to you
more than ever now!"

"You are my very own, one of my chief treasures," he said, in response
to that. "God bless my darling and have her ever in His kind care and
keeping!" He clasped her hand tenderly in his as he spoke, and for a
while they paced the deck together.

"Oh, where are we, papa?" she asked, gazing from side to side in eager
curiosity. "This wide expanse of water cannot be the Welland Canal?"

"No, we passed through that in the night, and are now in Lake Ontario."

"Oh, I am glad we are so far on our journey," she said, "and the water
is so quiet that it seems a very suitable place in which to spend this
sweet Sabbath day."

"I think so, if only we try to spend it aright."

"I do intend to," she responded. "And we shall have our usual service
in the morning; we younger ones a Bible lesson with papa in the
afternoon, won't we?"

"I think so," he said. "I certainly expect to give my own children a
Bible lesson, and we will not shut out any who may choose to take a
part in it. That would be very selfish, would it not?"

"Yes, sir! yes, indeed! I think so, for you always make a Bible lesson
very interesting as well as instructive."

"I am glad my daughter finds it so," he said, smiling down upon her.

They moved silently back and forth for a few minutes, Lucilla
apparently in deep thought, her father watching with keen and loving
interest the changeful expression of her features.

"What is it, daughter? Of what are you thinking?" he asked at length.

"About the narrow escape of yesterday, papa," she answered, lifting to
his a face full of solemn awe. "I was asking myself, as I have many
times since my narrow escape of yesterday morning, Was I ready for
heaven? Would I have gone there if I had been drowned without time to
think and prepare to meet my Judge? Oh, father, can anyone be saved
without time to think and repent of every wrong thought and feeling,
and asking God's forgiveness for it? And how would it be possible to do
all that while struggling for your life?"

"Daughter," he said in tender tones, "are you not forgetting these
sweet words of Holy Writ: 'He that believeth on the Son hath
everlasting life?' Take notice, it is not shall have, but _hath_. It is
not only the sins already committed which God forgives for Jesus' sake
when He adopts us for His own, but those also which in His omniscience
He sees that we will be guilty of before the work of sanctification is
finished. If we are truly His, they are all forgiven in advance. He
says: 'I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish,
neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. My Father which gave
them me is greater than all; and no man is able to pluck them out of
my Father's hand. I and my Father are one.' In another place he says,
'Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word and believeth
on Him that sent me _hath_ everlasting life and shall not come into
condemnation; but _is passed from death unto life_.' The one important
question is, are we really His? Have we accepted His offered salvation
and given ourselves entirely to Him? If that be so we have no cause
for anxiety or fear; for the Lord knoweth them that are His, and will
never suffer any real evil to befall them. Death will be but going home
to Him, and that with all the sin taken away and we made perfect in
holiness, no want of conformity to His holy will left in us."

"Yes, papa, but----"

"But what, daughter?"

"Oh, if I should be mistaken in thinking that I really belong to Him!
Papa, how can I know it?"

"Have you any doubt that you are mine?"

"No, indeed, papa, not the slightest."

"But how do you know it?"

"Because you have told me so again and again; and besides, I have only
to look in the glass to see that I have your features, that I resemble
you about as much in looks as a young girl can resemble a----"

"Middle-aged man," he added, finishing the sentence for her as she
paused with an earnest, loving look up into his face.

"And the Bible tells us," he continued, "that 'Whom He did foreknow He
also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of His Son.' If we
are really His, we will, in a greater or less degree, resemble Him and
will be changed into the same image from glory to glory."

"Do you see anything of His image in me, papa?" she asked anxiously,
humbly.

"I am glad, very glad to be able to say that I think I do, daughter,"
he replied joyously, tenderly. "For years past I have watched you very
closely, constantly praying God to bless my efforts to train you up in
the way you should go, and bring you to Him, and I am very happy to say
that for a long while now I have seen that you were striving earnestly
to overcome your faults and live as a true disciple of Christ. And had
you been snatched from me in that sudden way, while the loss of my
dear child would have been terrible to me, I should not have mourned
as those without hope; but should now be looking forward to a happy
meeting with you in that blessed land where sin and sorrow and death
are unknown."

"Thank you, dear papa, oh, thank you very much!" she said, with
emotion. "If I am a Christian it is because you have taken almost
infinite pains to make me such, to point me to Christ and lead the way;
the way that you made plainer to me than anyone else ever did."

"Give all the glory and praise to God, my darling," he responded, in
moved tones. "It has been my daily, earnest prayer, that He would give
me wisdom for the work of bringing my children to Him and bless my
efforts, and I think my petition has been granted. When you see a work
laid to your hands for which you feel incompetent, ask help from on
high, remembering and pleading His gracious promise--'If any of you
lack wisdom let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally and
upbraideth not; and it shall be given him. But let him ask in faith,
nothing wavering.' Never forget that last clause. God knows the heart,
and it will be useless for us to plead with Him a promise which we do
not really believe."

"Yes, papa; surely that would be insulting to even a human creature.
Oh, pray for me, that I may have strong faith and never, never doubt
one word of God's promises, or threats either, and that I may be always
ready for whatever He sends. Oh, I can never thank Him enough for
giving me such a good, kind, praying, Christian father!"

"And I have great reason for gratitude for the dear children he has
bestowed upon me," her father responded, pressing the hand he held,
"and for the hope that we will spend a blessed eternity together in
that land where sin and sorrow are unknown."

"Yes, papa, what a delightful thought that is! and yet I cannot help
feeling glad to stay a little longer here in this world. Oh, this is
such a lovely morning and the view is as new to me as it is enchanting,
for, as you know, in going to Chicago we passed over this part of the
route in the night, so that I saw nothing of the scenery."

"Well, I think you may enjoy it to the full to-day," he returned, "and
that some time in the afternoon you will get a sight of the Thousand
Islands; though, by the way, counting all, big and little, there are
fifteen hundred or more."

"Then we won't stop at all of them?"

"Hardly," he answered with a smile. "They fill the river for
twenty-seven miles along its course. Most of them are mere rocky
islets, covered generally with stunted hemlocks and cedar trees down
to the water's edge. Some are square miles in extent and others only a
few yards."

"And how wide is the river where they are, papa?"

"It varies from two to nine miles in width. Canoes and small boats may
pass safely among all the islands, and there is a deep channel for
steamboats and large vessels which, having a rocky bottom, never varies
in depth or position."

"Do they belong to our country or to Canada, papa? I ought to know,
but, if I ever did, I have forgotten."

"The boundary line, which was determined in 1818, passes among them.
Grindstone, Carleton, and Wells are the names of the largest of those
belonging to the United States, and Grand and Howe of those belonging
to Canada."

"And there are a good many stories connected with them, are there not,
papa?"

"Yes; perhaps one of these days we will hunt them up; for I know that
my children--to say nothing of older people--are fond of stories."

"Especially when told by our father, who is sure to make them
interesting," she said, with an upward glance into his face that spoke
volumes of love and admiration.

"Ah, such, it seems, is the opinion of my partial eldest daughter, who
can see nothing in her father but what is good and admirable."

"A weakness equally shared by his wife," remarked a clear, sweet voice
in their rear.

They turned quickly at the sound, the captain exclaiming, as he let
go his daughter's hand, put an arm about Violet, bent down and kissed
her tenderly, "This is a most agreeable surprise, my dearest, for I
left you, at least, so I thought, fast asleep. I moved as quietly as I
could, not wishing to disturb your slumbers."

"As you always do move on such occasions, my best and dearest of
husbands," she responded, returning his caresses. "You made no noise,
but somehow I happened to wake just as you closed the door, and
thinking I would secure for myself the rare treat of an early walk with
my--better half, I left my berth promptly and began my toilet. So here
I am, to spoil Lu's private morning interview with the almost idolized
father she considers her peculiar property at this hour of the day."

"Ah!" he returned laughingly, "I put it the other way. She is my
property, yet hardly more so than my lovely young wife."

"Yes; you and I belong to each other, and Lu can say the same to you,"
laughed Violet. "Can't you, Lu?"

"So I think, Mamma Vi," returned Lucilla, "and though probably you are
nearer and dearer to him than I, you cannot say as I can, that you have
his blood in your veins and have belonged to him ever since you were
born."

"No," acknowledged Violet, "but I can say I belong to him of choice,
you only of necessity."

"Oh, that doesn't matter!" laughed Lucilla; "since if I had the
privilege of choosing, I should be all the same his very, very own.
That is, if he would have me," she added, with a look of ardent
affection up into her father's face, and laying her hand upon his
shoulder.

"There is no question about that, dear child," he said, putting his arm
round her waist again. "Since the day I first heard of your birth there
has not been one in which I have not thanked God for this good gift of
His to me," he concluded, with a fond caress.

"So you see you have no need to be jealous even of me, Lu," Violet
said, with pleased look and smile.

"No, I am not, Mamma Vi, not in the least; for I would far rather be
papa's daughter than his wife. But, I suppose, you would rather have
him to yourself for a while now, so I will go down----"

"No, no, Lu dear, stay here with us," interrupted Violet, while the
captain drew his daughter a little closer, saying, "Stay where you are.
Cannot I have and enjoy you both at once?"

"Oh, I'm glad enough to be allowed to stay, if you both want me,"
exclaimed Lucilla, with a pleased little laugh. "But I thought I had
had my turn and was afraid I'd be in the way now."

"When I find you in the way I shall not hesitate to give you an order
to go below," her father said, with a look of amusement.

Then, taking her hand in his and giving the other arm to Violet, he
resumed the interrupted promenade of the deck till they were joined by
the children and older members of the family party.

Then came the summons to the breakfast table. All were in excellent
spirits, greatly enjoying the pleasant change from yesterday's storm to
the lovely weather of to-day. Most of the day was spent upon the deck
holding the Sabbath services usual with them there, then in reading
and conversation suited to the sacred time, or in gazing out over
the waters, watching the passing vessels, and as they steamed from
the lake into the St. Lawrence River and pursued their way among the
islands there, gazing upon them with interest and curiosity.

"Are we going to stop at any of them, papa?" asked Grace.

"I think not," he replied. "We are in some haste to reach Montreal, as
we hope to find letters there from the home folks."

"Yes," said Grandma Elsie, "I am hoping to hear from my boys--Harold
and Herbert--that they have arrived safely at home; also for some news
from all the other dear ones in that vicinity."

"And we hope it will be all good news," added Captain Raymond cheerily.

"And we will send despatches and letters to some of them, that all may
be apprised of our safety thus far," added his wife.

"Yes, indeed," said Violet. "By the way, I wonder where our bride and
groom are by this time? I wish we might come across them and persuade
them to travel in the _Dolphin_ again. We would only have to crowd a
little as before, to make room for them."

"And none of us would object to that, I think," remarked Rose.

"I, for one, am decidedly of the opinion that it would pay," said
Lucilla. "Don't you think so, father?"

"Yes; I have always found their society enjoyable," Captain Raymond
replied to that. "And I hope they have found ours agreeable enough to
need but little urging to accept our invitation."

"Perhaps we may come upon them in Montreal," remarked Grace. "Papa, is
it not the largest city of Lower Canada?"

"Yes; the largest in British America."

"Where is it, papa?" asked little Elsie.

"On the left bank of this--the St. Lawrence River, 200 miles below Lake
Ontario; 160 above Quebec, which will be our next stopping place."

"Will we get there to-day, papa?" asked Elsie.

"No," he replied. "To-day is nearly gone, daughter. See, the sun is
setting, and you and Neddie will be going presently to your beds, to
have a good night's sleep, I hope, and be ready to enjoy to-morrow's
visit to Montreal."



CHAPTER X.


The drip, drip of rain was the first sound that greeted Lucilla's ears
on awaking the next morning. She started up in her berth and listened.
The _Dolphin_ was not moving.

"Oh, we must be anchored at Montreal, and it's raining," she said
to herself. "There will not be much sight-seeing for us to-day, I'm
afraid. Dear, dear! I hope we won't have to hurry away without seeing
anything. Though in that case, perhaps papa will bring us here again
next year."

She did not linger long over her toilet, and was soon with her father
on the deck.

"Oh, papa!" she exclaimed, after the usual morning greetings had been
exchanged, "aren't you sorry it has turned out a rainy day?"

"A bright one would seem pleasanter to us, as we had planned to do some
sight-seeing," he replied, "but let us remember who sends the changes
of the weather, that He knows what is best for us, and that we may
safely trust in His knowledge, power, and love for us?"

"Yes, papa, that is how I ought to feel about it, and I will try to,"
she said, a sweet smile replacing the slight frown that had marred the
beauty of her face for the moment.

"I think," he went on presently, "that it is not going to be a lasting
rain. Probably showery for some hours, which we can spend with
advantage in a short review of the history of Montreal, and considering
what parts of it are most worthy of our attention; for we cannot take
time to visit every locality."

"Oh, what a nice idea, papa! It quite comforts me!" she cried, looking
up into his face with a bright, glad smile, "I do think I have just the
very best, kindest, wisest father----"

"There, there! that will do!" he said, stopping her flow of words with
a kiss full upon her lips. "I am afraid my eldest daughter is a decided
flatterer."

"Oh, papa, the truth isn't flattery, is it?" she asked with a roguish
look up into his eyes.

"Ah! but silly young things, like my daughter Lucilla, oftentimes have
vivid imaginations. But to change the subject, Montreal, you know, is
historic ground."

"Yes, sir; I remember that the first white man who visited it was
Jacques Quartier or Cartier, a French navigator. And didn't he discover
the Gulf and River St. Lawrence? and give them those names?"

"Yes; and named the place here Mount Royal--in honor of his king,
Francis I. The city is built upon an island thirty miles long and
twelve wide, and upon the site of a noted Indian village called
Hochelaga. Cartier's visit was paid in 1535. In 1640 a white settlement
was gathered there. The Indians, friendly at first, afterward became
jealous, then hostile. The whites at first defended their town with a
stockade and slight bastions, but later with a strong wall of masonry
fifteen feet high, with battlements and six gates."

"What an old, old town it is!" exclaimed Lucilla. "Did it become a
large city very quickly, papa?"

"No; its growth was gradual, but when in the middle of the last century
hostilities were begun between the French and English colonies,
Montreal was an important frontier town. It was threatened by the
English under Amherst in 1759, and in the autumn of the next year
passed out of the possession of the French into that of the English."

"And they have kept it ever since?"

"Yes; though our people invaded it in 1775, after the capture of Forts
St. John and Chambly."

"Oh, yes, sir! under Montgomery and Arnold, wasn't it?"

"The first attack was under Ethan Allen, and was made a month earlier
than the taking of those forts," replied the captain. "Montgomery had
sent him to arouse the people in favor of the rebellion, as our cause
was then styled by our foes. Allen was active and brave, and soon had
gathered 250 Canadians to his standard. He wrote, Lossing tells us, to
Montgomery, that within three days he would join him, with at least 500
armed Canadians, in laying siege to St. John's.

"He was marching up the east side of the St. Lawrence when he fell in
with Major Brown, at the head of an advanced party of Americans and
Canadians, and Brown proposed that they should make a joint attack upon
Montreal; telling Allen it was weak and defenceless. Allen agreed and
they made their arrangements. Allen was to get canoes and cross the
river below the city with his troops, while Brown was to cross above
with 200 men, and they were to attack the city simultaneously.

"But for some unexplained reason Brown failed to keep his part of the
agreement, and Allen's party made the attack alone.

"It was at night, a rough, windy night, that they, 80 Canadians and 30
Americans, crossed the river, and they had so few canoes that three
crossings were necessary to carry the whole party over. That was
safely accomplished by daylight, at which time Allen expected to hear
Brown's signal, telling him that he too had crossed with his men. But
the signal was waited for in vain. He did not come at all.

"Allen would have retreated if the boats could have carried all over
at once; as it was, he placed guards on the roads to prevent people
from carrying the news of his presence into the city. But in spite of
that precaution the inhabitants somehow became aware of it, and soon
troops were seen issuing from the gates. They consisted of a force of
40 British regulars, 200 Canadians, and a few Indians.

"Two to one of the Americans, if not more!" exclaimed Lucilla.

"Yes," said her father, "but so brave were our men that they fought
for an hour and three-quarters before they would surrender. At last,
however, they all deserted but 28, 7 of whom were wounded, and Allen
agreed to surrender upon being promised honorable terms."

"The prisoners were marched to Montreal and well treated until General
Prescott got them in his custody, when he behaved toward them in the
most brutal manner. Learning that Allen was the man who captured
Ticonderoga, he flew into a rage, threatened him with a halter, and
ordered him to be bound hand and foot in irons and placed on board the
war schooner _Gaspee_. A bar of iron eight feet long was attached to
his fetters, his fellow-prisoners were fastened together in pairs with
handcuffs, and all were thrust into the lowest part of the ship, where
they were allowed neither bed nor seat."

"Oh, papa! what a monster of cruelty that Prescott must have been!"
exclaimed Lucilla. "Was he not the same Prescott who had command of the
British troops in Rhode Island some two years later?"

"The very same; a most unfit man for such a position as he held then
and there. A cowardly wretch, a petty tyrant, with a callous heart, a
narrow mind, and utterly destitute of benevolence or charity."

"But what became of Allen finally, papa? If I ever knew, I have
forgotten."

"He was kept for five weeks in that deplorable condition, at Montreal,
on board the _Gaspee_; then the vessel was sent down to Quebec, and he
was put on board of another vessel, where he was treated humanely. He
was sent to England to be tried for treason, and landed at Falmouth,
where his grotesque garb attracted a great deal of attention. He was
afterward sent to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and thence to New York, where,
in May 1778, he was exchanged for Colonel Campbell."

"There is not nearly so much to be seen here as in Quebec, is there,
papa?" she asked.

"No," he replied, "and we will not stay very long here, but will spend
more of our time there."

"Oh, papa, didn't General Montgomery come to Montreal some time after
the events you have been telling of?"

"Yes; after the fall of St. John's. Carleton knew the place was weak,
and at once retreated on board of one of a number of small vessels
lying in the river, as did General Prescott, several officers, and
120 private soldiers. But Montgomery, as soon as he was aware that
they were trying to flee, sent Colonel Baston with continental troops,
cannon, and armed gondolas to the mouth of the Sorel, where they were
posted so advantageously that the British fleet could not pass, so were
compelled to surrender. But Carleton escaped, in a boat with muffled
oars, past the American post to Three Rivers, from which place he soon
reached Quebec in safety."

"What a pity! I wish the Americans had been more watchful!" exclaimed
Lucilla.

"They were watchful in their guard boats," replied her father, "but
a dark night and secret way were in Carleton's favor. They secured
Prescott, who certainly richly deserved to be made prisoner and treated
far worse than he was, but that was by no means the loss to the British
that the taking of Carleton would have been, for Prescott's conduct on
many occasions made him a disgrace to their army. But we have had a
long talk, and there is the call to breakfast."

In spite of the drip and splash of the rain outside the faces that
surrounded the breakfast table were bright and cheery.

"There will be no going ashore to-day, I presume," remarked Grandma
Elsie, when the blessing had been asked, and the filling of plates and
coffee cups had begun.

"I do not despair of it, mother," returned the captain, in cheerful
tones. "It does not seem to me like a settled rain. I think it will
clear by noon, and that then we can go about the city and its environs
in carriages."

"Yes," said Mr. Dinsmore, "though our own are beyond reach at present,
it is altogether likely the city, in the persons of some of its
inhabitants, supplies vehicles for those willing to pay for their use."

"No doubt of it," said the captain.

"Where is Walter, mamma?" queried Violet, noticing that the boy's seat
was unoccupied.

"I do not know. I fear he has overslept himself," replied her mother.

"No, mother," said the captain; "he was early on deck and begged
permission of me to go into the city in quest of our mail. Ah, here
he comes," as a blithe boyish voice was heard at the head of the
companion-way.

In another moment the lad entered, looking rosy and exultant.

"Mail for us all, not to speak of telegrams," he said, in lively tones,
emptying his pockets as he spoke, and handing letters and papers to one
and another. "Mamma, your share is a large one, as it ought to be; the
telegram, from my brothers, I presume, to announce their safe arrival
at home; it is the one at the top of the pile, as you may see," handing
her a number of missives.

"Yes; and most satisfactory," she said, with a smile and a sigh of
relief, as she opened and read it at a glance. "'Just arrived safely.
Hear that all the relatives are well.' Ah, what cause for gratitude to
the Giver of all good!" she exclaimed low and feelingly. "There have
been so many accidents, yet we and our dear ones have escaped them all."

"It is indeed a cause for gratitude," responded her father. "We will
trust in Him and not be afraid; for wherever we go we are under His
kind care and protection."

"A most comforting and cheering thought," said the captain.

Grandma Elsie was opening a letter post-marked Newport, R. I.

"Ah, this is from our dear Molly!" she said. "She dates 'Paradise
Valley.' Where is that?"

"It is on the island of Rhode Island, a few miles out from the City of
Newport," replied the captain.

"Ah, yes; so she tells me," responded Mrs. Travilla, her eyes still
upon the letter. "They have taken a furnished house for some months,
there is another within a few yards of it, now empty, and they want us
all to come there, help fill the two, and have a pleasant time for a
few days, or weeks, enjoying the lovely scenery, the sea breeze, and
each other's society. What do you all say to the proposition?"

"I think we might spend a short time as pleasantly there as anywhere
else," said Mr. Dinsmore.

"As I do," said his wife.

"I only wish I could be of the party," sighed Walter, assuming a very
depressed expression of countenance; "but my college duties will claim
my attention before that."

"For which you may be very thankful, laddie," said his sister Rose.
"Remember it is not every boy--or young man--who attains to the
blessing of a college education, without having to earn it by hard
work."

"I expect and intend to do hard work," returned Walter, stirring his
coffee, for he had seated himself and was beginning a hearty breakfast.

"On which side is your vote to be cast, Violet, my dear?" asked the
captain in his pleasant tones, turning inquiringly to his young wife.

"I think a brief visit there, on our homeward route, might be very
enjoyable," she replied; "but if my husband prefers to go directly home
I shall be entirely content."

"Thank you, my dear. I do not see any need of excessive haste in
returning home, and it shall be just as you say, whether we accept
Cousin Molly's invitation or decline it."

"Then suppose we leave it to Lu and Gracie to say what shall be done,
so far as our immediate family is concerned."

"Very well," he said. "Speak freely, daughters, in regard to your
preferences for accepting this invitation or going directly home after
visiting Quebec."

"I shall be perfectly satisfied with my father's decision," said
Lucilla, with a smiling look up into his face. "I have no doubt the
little visit to Paradise Valley would prove very enjoyable, yet home is
to me the sweetest place on earth, and we have been away from it a good
many weeks already."

Captain Raymond looked not ill pleased with her reply, but turned
inquiringly to Grace.

"I can echo my sister's sentiments, father dear," she said, with her
own sweet smile; "keep me with you and I shall be content and happy
wherever that may be."

The captain's answering smile seemed to say he thought no other man had
daughters quite equal to his, but turning to Evelyn he asked what were
her wishes in regard to the matter.

"I have no doubt a visit to Paradise Valley would be very enjoyable,
captain," she replied, with a smile, "that is, if the place is at all
suggestive of the name, but like your daughters, I shall be perfectly
contented whether we stop there for a time or go on directly home."

"There!" exclaimed Rosie, "were ever such accommodating girls seen
before? Now, Brother Levis, when I am asked that question I shall give
a different reply, if only to furnish a trifle of the spice of variety."

"Consider it asked then, my dear young sister," he returned, with
assumed gravity, but a twinkle of fun in his eye.

"I do, and my answer is, that I am decidedly in favor of accepting
Cousin Molly's invitation. I have a great desire to see Paradise, since
the thing may be so easily accomplished, and nobody seems to have any
objection to going there."

"Then we will consider the question decided in the affirmative," said
the captain, "and make our arrangements accordingly."

"Not allowing among them an avoidance of Quebec, I trust," said Walter;
"for I own that I very much want to see that old city."

"Set your mind at rest on that point, my boy," said the captain
pleasantly; "I hardly think there is one of us who would willingly miss
that visit."

"I am glad to hear you say that, captain," said Evelyn, "for I, for
one, am looking forward to our visit there with a great deal of
interest."

The little ones now asked to be excused, and went away to their plays,
but the others sat about the table reading their letters--now and then
a few sentences aloud, for the benefit of the company--until Walter
had finished his meal, when they all gathered in the saloon for their
regular morning service of prayer, Bible reading, and sacred song.

When that duty had been duly attended to, the gentlemen and some of
the ladies went upon deck for a time. Rain was still falling, but less
heavily than in the earlier hours, and Captain Raymond and Mr. Dinsmore
decided to pay a visit to the city, promising to return in an hour
or two, bringing vehicles for a drive, in case the weather should so
improve that a little excursion might be taken with safety and pleasure.

Mrs. Travilla, Violet, and the young girls and Walter stood upon the
deck, watching their departure.

"I hope they may enjoy themselves, but I shouldn't like to walk out in
this drizzle," sighed Grace. Then in a lower, livelier tone, "Mamma, are
you not proud of your husband? I think he is very handsome, even in
that unbecoming waterproof coat."

"And I am decidedly of the opinion that everything becomes him,"
returned Violet, with a low, pleased laugh. "Well, mamma and you girls,
how shall we pass the morning? It really seems to me that the saloon is
more inviting and comfortable at present than the deck."

The others agreed with her, and all went below, where they found the
two little ones begging Grandma Rose for a story to while away the
time.

"Ah," she said, "here comes your Grandma Elsie, who is far better than
I am at that business.

"Oh, yes!" cried little Elsie. "Grandma, won't you please tell us now
about things that have happened at Montreal and Quebec?"

"Yes, dear; I promised you, and there will be no better time than this
for the telling of the story," Mrs. Travilla answered pleasantly, as
she seated herself and took up her fancy work, while the children drew
their chairs to her side, each young face full of eager expectancy.



CHAPTER XI.


Grandma Elsie took a moment to collect her thoughts, then gave
the little ones very much the same story of the settlement and
after-history of Montreal that Lucilla had heard from their father
earlier in the day. From that she went on to give a similar account of
Quebec.

"The city," she said, "is built upon a steep promontory, where two
rivers, the St. Lawrence, on which we now are, and the St. Charles
meet. There was formerly an Indian village there called Stadacona.
Jacques Cartier, the same person I have been telling you about as
the first white man who visited this spot where Montreal now stands,
discovered that Indian village in the same year. But the city of Quebec
was not founded until 1608; and not by Cartier, but by another man
named Champlain, who on the third day of July of that year raised over
it a white flag. Soon afterward rude cottages were built, a few acres
of ground cleared, and one or two gardens were planted."

"Is that all of it there is now, grandma?" asked Elsie.

"Oh, no, my child! there is a city with a very strong fortress; there
are colleges and churches; there is a building yard for vessels, where
thirty or forty are built every year. Quebec has a very fine harbor,
where many vessels can ride at anchor at the same time, and I have read
that from fourteen hundred to two thousand come in every year from the
ocean."

"Just to ride there, grandma?" asked Neddie, with grave earnestness.
Then he wondered why grandma smiled at his query and everybody else
laughed.

"No, sonnie," Mrs. Travilla replied, "but to trade. They bring goods
to the people--silk, cotton, woolen; salt too, coal, and hardware. And
they carry away what the folks in Canada have to sell, which is mostly
timber."

"Did you say French folks live there, grandma?" asked Elsie.

"Yes; it was built by the French in the first place, but taken from
them by the English in 1759."

"That was before our Revolution, wasn't it, grandma?"

"Yes; about sixteen years earlier."

"Please tell about it, grandma."

Grandma kindly complied.

"There was war at that time between England and France," she said,
"and, for that reason, war between the English and French colonies
of America. The French built a strong fortress on the island of Cape
Breton, which is at the mouth of this, the St. Lawrence River; they
began also to build forts along the lakes and the Ohio and Mississippi
Rivers. Fleets and armies came over from Europe, and the English and
French colonists, on this side of the ocean, formed armies and engaged
Indians to help them fight each other. The English attacked the French
fortress of Louisburgh on Cape Breton Island, and took it. Then Wolfe,
who was in command, put his troops on board of vessels, and went on up
the river as far as the island of Orleans, a few miles below Quebec.
There they built batteries for guns, intending to fire upon Quebec,
where was the French general, Montcalm, with an army of 13,000 men;
some of them regulars, the rest Canadians and Indians.

"But I will not go into all the particulars, as you two little ones
could hardly understand them well enough to be much interested."

"Oh, yes, grandma, please go on," exclaimed Elsie.

"The English were unsuccessful at first, if I remember right, mamma?"
remarked Rosie inquiringly.

"Yes," replied her mother. "It was nearly night when their divisions
joined, and the grenadiers were so impatient that they charged madly
upon the works of the French before the other troops had time to form
and be ready to sustain them. As a natural consequence they were driven
back to the beach with severe loss, where they sought shelter behind a
redoubt abandoned by the French.

"A storm was brewing, and the French kept up a galling fire, until it
burst upon their foes with great fury. The tide from the ocean came
roaring up against the current of the river with unusual strength,
and the British were obliged to retreat to their camp across the
Montmorency, to avoid being caught in the raging waters and drowned.
They had lost 180 killed and 650 wounded.

"Wolfe, who was not a strong, healthy man, was so distressed over the
calamity that he became really ill. Of course he was much fatigued, and
that, joined to distress of mind, brought on a fever and other illness
that nearly cost him his life. It was almost a month before he was able
to resume command.

"When sufficiently recovered to write a letter, he sent an almost
despairing one to Pitt, but at its close said he would do his best.
Then he and Admiral Saunders contrived their plan for scaling the
Heights of Abraham, and so getting possession of the elevated plateau
at the back of the city, where the fortifications were weakest, the
French engineers having trusted for their defence to the precipices and
the river below.

"Montcalm and his men saw that the English camp was broken up, and
that the troops were conveyed across to Point Levi, then some distance
up the river, by a part of their fleet, while the rest of it remained
behind to feign an attack upon the intrenchment at Beauport. Montcalm,
though he saw these movements, was at a loss to understand them; so
he remained in his camp, while another officer was stationed a little
above the Plains of Abraham, to watch that part of the English fleet
that had sailed up the river.

"At night the troops were all embarked in flat boats and proceeded
up the river with the tide. The French saw them, and marched up the
shore to prevent them from landing. Toward daylight the boats moved
cautiously down the river, with muffled oars, passing the French
without being perceived, and the troops landed safely in a cove below.
They were all on shore by daylight.

"Then the light infantry scrambled up the precipice and dispersed a
French guard stationed there, while the rest of the army climbed up
a winding and steep ravine. Then another division landed, and before
sunrise five thousand British troops were drawn up in battle array on
the Plains of Abraham, three hundred feet above the St. Lawrence."

"How surprised the French must have been!" exclaimed Lucilla.

"Yes," said Mrs. Travilla, "the first intimation Montcalm had of their
intentions was the sight of the English army drawn up there, on what he
had doubtless deemed those inaccessible heights. He at once perceived
that this exposed his garrison and the city to imminent danger, and
immediately marched his whole army across the St. Charles to attack the
enemy.

"It was about ten o'clock when he got his troops there and into battle
line. He had two field-pieces, while the English had but one; only a
light six-pounder which some sailors had dragged up the ravine about
eight o'clock that morning.

"At that time the plains had no fences or inclosures, and extended
to the walls of the city on the St. Louis side, their surface being
dotted over with bushes which furnished places of concealment for the
French and Indian marksmen. I will not attempt to describe the relative
positions of the two armies, which you little ones would hardly
understand. I will only say that Wolfe placed himself on the right, at
the head of a regiment of grenadiers who were burning to avenge their
defeat at the Montmorency, and Montcalm was on the left of the French,
at the head of his regiments.

"Wolfe ordered his men to load their pieces with two bullets each and
reserve their fire until the French should be within forty yards of
them, an order which every man was careful to obey.

"The English fired several rounds, then charged furiously with their
bayonets. Wolfe was urging them on, when some Canadians singled him
out and fired, slightly wounding him in the wrist. He wound his
handkerchief about it and still went on, cheering his men, but quickly
received another wound in the groin; then another struck him in the
breast, and he fell to the ground mortally wounded. But he seemed
hardly to think of himself, only of his troops and gaining the victory.
'Support me; let not my brave soldiers see me drop,' he said to an
officer near him. 'The day is ours--keep it.' Then they carried him to
the rear while his troops were still charging. The officer on whose
shoulder he was leaning cried out, 'They run, they run!' At that the
light came back into the dim eyes of the dying hero and he asked, 'Who
run?' 'The enemy, sir; they give way everywhere,' replied the officer.
'What! do they run already?' asked the feeble, dying voice. 'Go to
Colonel Preston and tell him to march Webb's regiment immediately to
the bridge over the St. Charles, and cut off the fugitives' retreat.
Now, God be praised, I die happy!' He spoke no more, but died, with his
sorrowing companions about him, just in the moment of victory. Montcalm
too was mortally wounded in that battle, and died the next morning
about five o'clock."

"What a pity!" exclaimed little Ned. "What makes men fight so, grandma?"

"If there were no sin there would be no fighting," Grandma Elsie
replied. "There is none in heaven; there all is peace and joy and love."

"Is it bad men that fight, grandma?"

"Not quite always; sometimes a good man has to fight to protect his
wife and children, or other helpless ones, from being injured by a
bad man. If a bad man were trying to hurt your mamma, or one of your
sisters, it would be right for your papa to prevent him, even if he had
to hurt him a great deal in doing so."

"Oh, yes; and when I grow big I won't let anybody hurt my dear mamma or
sisters. I'll help papa drive 'em away if they try to."

"Please, grandma, tell some more," entreated Elsie.

"Yes, dear," said grandma. "The British have kept Quebec ever since
they took it that time, and there was no more fighting there till our
Revolutionary war began some sixteen years later: the 19th of April,
1775. In the fall of that year troops were sent to Canada; some under
Ethan Allen, as you have already learned, some under Montgomery, and
others commanded by Arnold.

"They, poor fellows, had dreadful times pushing their way through the
wilderness, often suffering for lack of sufficient food and raiment,
braving storms and bitter cold. I cannot tell you the whole sad story
now, but you can read it when you are older. Arnold and his men
reached Quebec first, but were not strong enough to attack it, and the
garrison would not come out and fight them on the plains. Then Arnold,
inspecting his arms, found that most of his cartridges were spoiled,
therefore he retreated to a place twenty miles distant. There, on the
1st of December, he was joined by Montgomery and his troops; but very
few of them were fit for fighting, many being sick; also a good many
had deserted, so that the force was small indeed--only about nine
hundred men."

"What's desert, grandma, to run away without leave?" asked Neddie.

"Yes," she replied; "and they generally shoot a soldier for it."

"I think I won't be a soldier when I get big," said the little fellow
reflectively; "'cause I might get scared and run away and the other
fellows might catch me and shoot me; and then papa and mamma would feel
very sorry; wouldn't they, grandma?"

"Yes, indeed! and so would a good many other folks, grandma for one,"
she replied, dropping her work to put an arm about him, stroking his
hair with the other hand, patting his rosy cheek, and kissing him again
and again. "But we hope our little boy will make a good and brave
man, like his father, and never play the coward by running away from
dangerous duty."

"Maxie, my big brother, wouldn't, grandma."

"No, I feel very sure Max would fight for the right and his dear native
land."

"So do I," said Lucilla. "Max is very much like our father in both
looks and character; though papa says Max has a better temper than his.
I never saw papa show a bad temper, but he says he has one and that
that's where I get mine."

"Now, Lu, don't talk in that way about yourself," said Grace. "I've
hardly seen you show any temper at all for years past. If you got it
from papa, you got the power of controlling it too, from him, I think."

At that moment Walter came hurrying down from the deck, whither he had
gone shortly before, his face full of joyous excitement.

"Folks," he cried, "do you know that it is clearing off? The sun is out
and the clouds are retreating rapidly before it. Surely the change will
bring grandpa and the captain back in haste, after the rest of us. So I
think we should better be making our preparations as fast as possible."

"Why, my dear young brother," laughed Rosie, "one would imagine our
lives or fortunes, one or both, depended on our seeing the sights of
Montreal to-day."

"Very well, my wise sister, you can stay behind, if you wish," laughed
the lad; "but I'm bound to make one of the exploring party. And there!
they have come, for I hear Brother Levis' voice on deck."

The words had scarcely left his lips when Captain Raymond's quick,
manly step was heard coming down the companion-way; then his pleasant
voice, saying, "Everybody who wants to see Montreal to-day must make
haste to don hat and coat or shawl, for the air will be quite cool in
driving."

"Oh, have you brought a carriage for us, papa?" asked little Elsie.

"Yes," he replied; "we have three of what they call _calèches_ out here
on the wharf. They are pleasant vehicles to ride in, and the three will
hold us all very comfortably. We will not want to stop anywhere for
dinner," he continued turning to Violet, "so I have ordered a lunch put
up for each _calèche_."

"My dear, you think of everything," she said, with an admiring
affectionate look up into his face. "We will be ready in ten minutes;
we need no preparations but what you have advised."



CHAPTER XII.


The sun had already set when our friends returned to the _Dolphin_.
They had greatly enjoyed their drive and the views of the places of
interest visited, but were weary enough to be glad to find themselves
again seated upon the deck of their floating home. The little ones were
given a simple meal and sent to their berths, then the elder people sat
down to a more substantial one, over which they chatted and laughed,
discussing with much enjoyment the sights of the day and the historical
events with which they were connected.

Then they talked of Quebec and upon what parts of it they should bestow
most attention, as they could tarry there for but a short time.

"Of course we must visit the Heights of Abraham, whatever else we
neglect," remarked Rosie.

"Yes," said Walter, "and Palace Gate, Cape Diamond, and the citadel
that crowns it. I should like to see it, not only for the historical
associations, but also because it is said to be the most impregnable
fortress on the continent of America."

"And I, for the beautiful view it commands of what is called the most
magnificent scenery on this continent, if not in the world," added
Violet.

"It must be very large," remarked Lucilla, "for I remember reading
that, with its ravelins, it covers about forty acres. We will go to see
it, papa, will we not?"

"I think so; it would hardly do to visit Quebec and neglect so
important a place."

"It was under Cape Diamond that Montgomery fell, if I remember right,"
remarked Evelyn Leland.

"Yes," replied the captain; "on the 31st of December, 1775. At two
o'clock on that morning his troops paraded in three divisions; a
part at Holland House under the direct command of Montgomery. That
division, with Montgomery at the head, passed down from the Plains
of Abraham to Wolf's Cove, then along the margin of the river under
Cape Diamond. It was a dark, stormy morning, the snow falling fast
and a fierce wind piling it in heaps--frightful drifts. Through that
darkness and storm Montgomery led his men to the narrowest point under
the cape, where, on the top of the precipice, the enemy had planted a
battery of three-pounders. The post was in charge of a Canadian with
thirty-eight militiamen, besides nine British seamen under the master
of a transport, to work the guns. These men were awake and on the
watch, perfectly silent; each artilleryman with a lighted match in his
hand. Probably from their silence Montgomery thought they were asleep.
But they were waiting and listening.

"Barnsfare could see faintly through the dim light and drifting snow,
the movements of the Americans, and when they drew near, and Montgomery
called out to his troops, 'Men of New York, you will not fear to follow
where your general leads: March on!' rushing, as he spoke, over heaps
of snow and ice to charge the battery. Barnsfare heard, gave his men
the word, and they sent a discharge of grape-shot, sweeping down the
American ranks with terrible effect.

"Montgomery, his aid, Major M'Phunn, Captain Cheesman, and several
privates were killed, and the rest, appalled at the disaster and the
death of their brave commander, fled back to Wolf's Cove."

"How dreadful!" sighed Grace. "Montgomery's death alone was a great
loss to our country, was it not, papa?"

"It was indeed! throughout the whole country his death was felt to be
a great calamity, and even in England, upon the floor of Parliament,
his praises were sounded by Burke, Chatham, and Barre."

"Was he buried there--in Canada?" she asked.

"Yes; within the wall that surrounded a powder magazine, near the
ramparts on St. Louis Street. There his body remained for forty-two
years, when it was removed to New York and reinterred near the monument
erected to his memory by the United States.

"While all this was going on at Cape Diamond, Arnold and his division
were passing along the St. Charles. The snow was worse drifted there
than on the St. Lawrence; but he and his men pressed on till they
reached a narrow street, where, under a high jutting rock, the enemy
had a two-gun picketed battery well manned. Like Montgomery he headed
his men, leading Lamb's artillery to the attack, and while doing so
received a very bad wound in the knee. He had to be carried to the
general hospital, and there heard the sad news of Montgomery's death.

"Morgan now took command of Arnold's division, and for more than an
hour the Americans withstood the storm of musket balls and grape-shot
at the first barrier, and finally carried it, the deadly aim of the
riflemen causing great consternation among the ranks of the British
and Canadians. Then they rushed on to the second, where they fought
fiercely for three hours, many being killed on both sides.

"Our men finally captured the barrier, and were preparing to rush into
the town, when Carleton sent a large detachment from his garrison,
through Palace Gate, to attack them in the rear. He and his men had
heard of the death of Montgomery and the retreat of his detachment,
which inspired them with renewed courage. The Palace Gate was thrown
open suddenly and the troops rushed out, surprising Captain Dearborn
and some provincials stationed there, and they were taken prisoners.

"Morgan heard of that disaster and of the death of Montgomery while
he and his men were pressing on vigorously into the town; also that
the enemy was advancing on his rear. He saw that further efforts were
useless, as he was surrounded by the foe on all sides, and he and his
men surrendered themselves prisoners of war."

"The whole American army was not taken, if I remember right, papa?"
said Grace interrogatively.

"No," replied her father, "the rest of the division retreated to their
camp, leaving behind a field-piece and some mortars. Colonel Arnold
took command of what was left of the patriot army and was promoted to
the rank of brigadier-general. He did not feel safe so near the city,
so retired about three miles from it and intrenched himself as well as
circumstances would permit. He remained there until the 1st of April,
but accomplished nothing of any consequence. General Thomas, who was
appointed to succeed Montgomery, arrived early in May; but the British
received large reinforcements and our men were driven out of Canada."

"Perhaps it was just as well," remarked Lucilla, in a tone of
indifference, "our country is large enough, and I, for one, don't covet
Canada."

"I think there are very few Americans, if any, who do," returned her
father with a slightly amused smile. "Our country is large enough, and
while we like the Canadians as friends and neighbors, we have no wish
to change their political relations, or to rob England of her colonies."

"I think you are quite correct about that matter, captain," said Mr.
Dinsmore. "I have yet to hear from any one of our people an expression
of a desire to see Canada, or any part of British America, incorporated
into our Union. We have a great country and are fully satisfied with
its size."

"'Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty,'" quoted Walter, "and we
need to be careful to exercise that, don't we, grandpa?"

"Certainly we do," was the reply, "toward foes within and foes without;
and that especially by diffusing knowledge and teaching Gospel truth."

With that they withdrew from the table and gathered upon the deck. The
yacht was moving down the river, but through the gathering gloom little
could be seen of it or its shores, and wearied with the day's jaunt,
all presently retired to their staterooms.



CHAPTER XIII.


When the _Dolphin's_ passengers awoke the next morning they found she
had reached Quebec and was lying quietly at the wharf there. Anxious
to view all places of historic interest in and about the city and
to be again on their eastward way, they set out as promptly as they
conveniently could after leaving the breakfast table.

There were so many points of interest, and at some they tarried so
long, that the sun had set and shadows were already creeping over land
and water as they regained the _Dolphin's_ deck.

Ned was fast asleep in his father's arms, little Elsie hardly able to
keep her eyes open, and they were taken at once to their stateroom by
their parents, the others hurrying to theirs to make due preparation
for a suitable appearance at the supper table.

The saloon through which they passed was but dimly lighted as yet,
and no one noticed a lady and gentleman sitting side by side in a far
corner where the shadows were deepest. As the last stateroom door
closed upon its occupants, the gentleman leaned down over the lady,
saying in a tone scarcely above a whisper, "Ah ha, ah ha, um h'm! they
are all safe in their rooms for the present, and now let us go upon
deck while we may unperceived. Raymond will be sure to be up there
presently, if none o' the rest."

The lady returned a silent assent, both rose, crossed the room
noiselessly, ascended the cabin stairway, and in another minute were
seated side by side in the shadow of the pilot house, the man at the
wheel greeting them with a quiet smile of amusement.

"They didn't see you, sir?" he asked in an undertone.

"No. And you kept our counsel?"

"An easy thing to do under the circumstances, as the captain asked
no question, but passed quickly on down into the cabin. But I think,
sir, you'd best let him know you're here pretty soon, or the yacht may
be starting with you and the lady on it, and you haven't any baggage
aboard."

"That's true; but the captain shall know of our presence and give us
time to land before he weighs anchor."

"And here he comes now, sir," as at that moment Captain Raymond's step
and voice were heard near the companion-way. "There, do you hear, sir?
he's giving the order to weigh anchor and proceed down the river."

"Hallo, there, cap'in! jest you wait a bit, sir. There's a couple o'
stowaways aboard and I'd advise ye to get rid o' them afore ye start,"
called a voice that seemed to come from some part of the vessel in the
captain's rear.

He turned quickly, asking, "And you are one of them?"

"Well, sir, that's neither here nor there," returned the voice; "but if
I was in your place, I'd put 'em off afore starting."

"But perhaps the poor fellows need some help," returned the captain.
"Tell them to show themselves and I'll not be hard upon them."

"Well, now," exclaimed the invisible speaker, "I must say you're a
good, kind-hearted sort o' man, spite o' owning this grand yacht and a
lot o' money, so I'll call 'em. Halloo, here, mates, don't be afeard to
show yerselves and I reckon ye'll git some grub if nuthin' else."

"Wait a little till this matter is settled," Captain Raymond said,
reversing his order about the anchor, then asked, "Have any strangers
been allowed to board the yacht during my absence?" addressing his
query to the man at the helm.

"Well, no, sir; not to say strangers," answered the man, hesitatingly
and with a slight laugh.

"Ah! some old friends, though; just as I suspected," and with the words
Captain Raymond glanced searchingly about, then with a quick step drew
near the hiding place of the stowaways.

"Ah, cousins, I see my guess was not wide of the mark," he said, with
his good-humored laugh and giving a hand to each. "You are as welcome
as sunlight in the morning and shall have all the 'grub' you can stow
away. But why not send for your baggage and go on home with us? You
have seen all the sights of Quebec, have you not?"

"About all, captain," replied Mr. Lilburn, "and we thank you heartily
for your very kind invitation. But though travel on the _Dolphin_,
especially in such good company, is most delightful, we would crowd you
too much, I fear."

"Yes," said Annis, "and it would be very selfish to give ourselves
so much pleasure at the cost of such inconvenience to our kind
friends--our dear relatives. But seeing the _Dolphin_ lying here, we
felt that we could not deny ourselves the great pleasure of a peep at
you all."

"The voyage is not likely to be a long one, or the crowding worth
mentioning," returned Captain Raymond in his most cordial tone; "and
the slight inconvenience will be paid for over and over again by the
pleasure of your company."

"It is most kind in you to say so, captain," said Annis, with a pleased
look, "but are you quite sure the others would be equally willing to
endure the inconvenience?"

"I haven't a doubt of it," he replied emphatically, "and I know of
nothing that could happen just now that would afford our dear mother
more pleasure; for I have often heard her speak of you as her very dear
friend and cousin, and I know she has missed you sadly since you left
us for your bridal trip. If you have seen all you care to of the city,
do let me send at once for your baggage and give her and the rest the
pleasant surprise of finding you presently at the supper table."

"Thank you very much," she said, smiling up into his pleasant face;
"you don't know how tempting your kind offer is. We have seen all we
care to of this interesting old city and were intending to leave it
to-night; but----"

"Ah, my dear cousin, just omit the objections," interrupted Captain
Raymond laughingly, "give me the address and let me send at once for
your trunks. Excuse my rudeness in not waiting to hear all you could
say against my plan, but it is growing late and I can hear it all
afterward if you care to have me do so. Ah, here comes mother and my
wife now," he added, as the two stepped upon the deck at that moment.

Then moving quickly toward them, "I have something to show you, mother
and Vi," he said; "a couple of uncommonly interesting stowaways, about
the disposal of whom I should like to have your advice."

"Stowaways?" repeated Violet, in accents of surprise. "Do they think we
are about to cross the ocean?"

"Suppose you come and have a little talk with them," said her husband,
leading the way toward the intruders, the ladies following close in his
rear.

"Oh, Cousins Annis and Ronald! How delightful!" both exclaimed at sight
of the intruders, Vi adding in gleeful tones, "We'll stow you away
safely and keep you as long as possible."

Then, as Annis began repeating her objection on the score of the
inevitable crowding, "Oh, that will only be fun," she said. "I am
not urging you out of politeness, but because I really want your and
Cousin Ronald's pleasant company, and know that all the rest will be
delighted to have it."

"Certainly they will," added Grandma Elsie. "And you surely cannot be
so unkind, Annis dear, as to refuse us that pleasure."

"Ah, Annis, my bonny bride, with such assurances we need not hesitate,"
laughed Mr. Lilburn. "Let us accept the kind invitation and do our best
to add to the pleasure of our generous-hearted entertainers."

"You can hardly refuse to follow such good advice coming from such a
source, Annis," said Violet, while Captain Raymond again inquired of
Mr. Lilburn where he should send for the trunks.

The requested information was given, a messenger at once despatched
for the luggage, and, as the summons to the supper table came at the
same moment, all the company upon the deck at once descended the
companion-way and met the remainder of the family party at the table.
The bride and groom had no reason to complain of their reception, for
everyone seemed delighted to see them.

Fatigue was forgotten in the enjoyment of each other's society, the
toothsome viands and the interest of comparing notes as to their
experiences--all they had seen, heard, and done--since the parting of a
few days before, when the bride and groom left the _Dolphin_ for the
railroad train at Michigan City.

The luggage had arrived and the vessel was in motion down the river
some time before they left the table.

"You will hardly make another stop in this part of Her Majesty's
dominions, captain, but go directly home, I presume?" remarked Mr.
Lilburn inquiringly, at a pause in the conversation.

"Yes and no," returned Captain Raymond in playful tones, "I hardly
expect to stop again until we reach Narragansett Bay; but there we
expect to visit Newport, and Paradise Valley, a few miles out of it,
on the same island. We have some cousins summering there now, who are
most urgent with us to come and take temporary possession of a vacant
cottage very near the one occupied by them; and we have decided to do
so, should nothing interfere. And now, I hope you and Cousin Annis will
decide to go there with us, and afterward return home with us in the
_Dolphin_."

As soon as the captain had ceased speaking, Mrs. Travilla and Violet,
the young people also, joined their urgent solicitations to his, and as
Annis seemed much pleased with the idea, and Mr. Lilburn himself had
really no objection, it was presently decided that they would accept
the invitation.

They now left the table and gathered upon the deck for a time; but
as there was no moon that night little could be seen of the country
through which they were passing, and all being somewhat weary with
the exertions of the day, they presently held their regular evening
service of prayer, praise, and reading of the Scriptures, then bade an
affectionate good-night and retired to rest.



CHAPTER XIV.


Our friends had a delightful voyage through the Gulf of St. Lawrence,
down the coasts of New Brunswick, Maine, Massachusetts, and Rhode
Island as far as Newport on Narragansett Bay. They left the yacht lying
in the harbor there for the present, and taking hired carriages drove
out to the cottages of which their cousin, Mrs. Embury, had written,
where they found her and Mr. Embury, with their children, also Mr.
and Mrs. Cyril Keith, forming a large and interesting family party,
and filling one of the cottages; but the other was still vacant, and
large enough to accommodate very conveniently the entire party from the
_Dolphin_.

Their welcome was of the warmest. They found their new temporary abode
comfortably, though not elegantly, furnished, open and well aired;
for, though their friends had been uncertain of the exact time of
their arrival, they had expected them daily and made ready, as far as
possible, for their comfort and enjoyment.

"Ah, if we had only known just when you would get here, your supper
should have been ready," said Isadore, when greetings had been
exchanged and the excitement of the arrival had calmed down somewhat.
"But I will have it on the table as soon as possible. I am housekeeper
this week. Molly and I take the position week about, each trying to
outdo the other in catering for the united family."

"Oh, thank you! but we had supper on the yacht just before leaving
her," said Violet. "Besides, we consider ourselves at home and do not
expect or wish to be treated as company."

"And we have brought a supply of provisions of various kinds, which we
hope you may be willing to share with us," said the captain.

"That was very kind and thoughtful in you, cousin captain," returned
Isadore with a pleased look, "and I hardly think any of us will feel
inclined to reject your dainties; though we have fared very well indeed
since coming here."

"Please accept my thanks also, and those of our husbands and children,"
said Molly. "Aunt Rose and Cousin Elsie, please sit down here with the
gentlemen and let us younger ones attend to the unpacking and arranging
of the contents of your trunks. If you will trust us, I can assure you
we shall enjoy doing it. At least I am sure I shall."

"That is a kind offer, Molly," said Mrs. Travilla, "but we have done
nothing to-day to tire us and I, for one, am not in the least fatigued;
so ought not to indulge my love of ease at your expense."

"Your love of ease, Cousin Elsie!" laughed Molly. "I never discovered
that you had any."

"No; but she has a daughter who is both able and willing to attend to
the duty in question," said Rosie Travilla. "So sit you down, mother
dear, and enjoy this pleasant company, while we younger folks unpack
and find places for your goods and chattels."

"Yes, do, mother," said Captain Raymond, bringing forward an easy chair
for her. "Can't you trust me to oversee and assist these younger folks?
If not we will seat you in state in some spot convenient for you to do
that part in person."

"Thanks, captain," she returned with a smile of amusement "as
commanding and giving directions has been your business for so many
years, I think you may be trusted to attend to the matter even without
my added supervision."

"Yes, come along, sir," said Rosie, leading the way, "but please to
remember that you and we girls are not in the schoolroom."

"I shall endeavor to keep that fact in mind, my sage young sister," he
said in return.

"But it won't make any difference in your authority over your own
daughters, I am happy to know, papa," Lucilla said, with a loving,
smiling look up into his face.

"No; they are mine and under my orders always and under all
circumstances," he returned; "and I think would not have it other wise
if they might."

"Indeed we would not," said Grace, who, as usual, was near her father
and sister. "May I help, papa?"

"Well, Gracie, I think you are not really needed, and would enjoy
yourself better out yonder on the porches or on the grass with your
little brother and sister and the others, telling them stories, singing
them little songs or playing games with them."

"Yes; do try that, Gracie, and I shall be much obliged," Violet said,
joining them at the moment. "I have just left them with the promise to
ask it of you."

Grace acquiesced, went back at once, and for the next half hour devoted
herself to the amusement of the children, to their great satisfaction
and enjoyment.

"And you, Madam Raymond, would do well to go back to the society
of your older friends and exercise your many gifts for their
entertainment," remarked the captain, speaking in playful tones to his
young wife, as Grace disappeared.

"No, my dear, I prefer to exercise them for yours, if you will permit
it," she returned.

"Ah, you fear to trust me to do the work without the supervision of my
capable young wife?" he returned laughingly.

"Possibly it may be done a trifle better, or, at least, more to my
mind, with that," she retorted, with becoming gravity. "At all events,
I shall know better where to look for what I want, so that, in the end,
I shall save myself trouble."

"Ah, then, I will make no further objection, but freely acknowledge
that the work will be twice as enjoyable if done under my young wife's
supervision."

"Thank you, sir," laughed Violet; "How glad I am now that I insisted on
coming to share it. As our stay is likely to be so short, I think, do
not you, it will be best to unpack only such things as we are pretty
sure to want while here?"

"Very well, my dear; as concerns that matter, you have only to give
your orders and see them carried out; while I do likewise in regard to
another; namely, that all the manual labor is to be left to other hands
than yours."

"Oh, Captain Raymond, how you do spoil me!" laughed Violet. "Who shall
say that you won't be sorry for it one of these days, and wish you had
encouraged me to be industrious and energetic."

"I am willing to take the risk," he said, placing a chair for her.

"No, I am not ready to sit down yet," she said. "We must first settle
who are to be the occupants of each room; and Cousin Annis and Ronald
should have the first choice."

"Decidedly they must have of the best; yet, I think it may be the
better plan for us to choose for them, or they will not take the best.
There are three comfortable rooms on this first floor. Shall we not
assign their use to your mother, grandparents, and the Lilburn cousins?"

"By all means," returned Violet. "Then Rosie will share with mamma,
Evelyn and our two girls take one of the third story rooms, you and
I and our little ones another, and Walter the remaining one. He, you
know, must leave us in a few days for college. Oh, the house will
accommodate us all very nicely!"

"So I think," he returned, leading the way to the third story; "and
now I insist on your having the first choice of the rooms on this
floor."

Violet hesitated, glancing inquiringly at Evelyn and Lucilla, who had
followed them up the stairway.

"Yes, Cousin Vi, that is only right, and what we would prefer to have
you do," said Evelyn.

"I see hardly any choice; they all look pleasant," added Lucilla, "and
if there is a difference, of course, we would all prefer that you and
papa should have the best."

Violet still seemed to hesitate, and Walter, who had come up in the
rear of the others, said, "I see I'll have to decide this knotty
question. My big brother, the captain, being the largest, oldest, best,
and most distinguished of this party, besides having a better half and
two children to share with him, should be assigned the largest room;
the three young ladies should take the next in size, and I--'lone and
lorn' bachelor of sixteen--will occupy the smallest, which is quite
large enough and good enough for me. So there the knotty question is
solved."

"Many thanks for your wise decision, my dear young bachelor brother,"
laughed Violet. "And now, if you and your big brother will see to
the bringing up of the trunks, I think we will soon make an end of
unpacking and arranging their contents, and be ready to join the
pleasant company on the porches."

"Yes, I think we need not do much of that work to-night," said her
husband; "it is now almost time to get our little ones to bed, and
to-morrow will give us another and better opportunity."

With that he and Walter hastened down the stairway, and not many
minutes later all were ready to rejoin the friends and relatives
sitting at ease on the porches below.

Most of the evening was passed in conversation, for they found a
great deal to hear and to tell of the scenes they had visited, and
occurrences in the family connection since last they had been together.

They had been talking of Viamede, Mrs. Travilla asking some questions
of Mr. Cyril Keith about the condition of things there, of which he was
able to render a very favorable report, in which Mr. Lilburn, among
others, seemed to be much interested.

"You visited Viamede some time ago, I remember, sir?" remarked Cyril,
turning to him.

"Yes; some few years ago, and found it a lovely place--a sort of
earthly paradise," returned the old gentleman, adding, with a look of
amusement, "I am pleased to perceive that you have not forgotten me
entirely, though we were not, at that time, related by marriage as we
are now. I have no objection in the world to being called uncle, even
by a man of your age, seeing you are own nephew to my bonny young wife."

Annis laughed, saying with a mirthful look, "Hardly young to anyone but
yourself, my dear; only a trifle younger than my dear friend and cousin
Elsie, who is grandmother to quite a number of fine children."

"But still almost youthful in appearance, auntie, dear," said Cyril,
giving Mrs. Travilla a look of heart-felt affection. Then turning to
Mr. Lilburn, "I shall avail myself in the future of the privilege
you have accorded me, Uncle Ronald," he said. "It is a pleasant name
to speak, and a dear old gentleman who gives me the privilege of so
addressing him."

"Couldn't you give us all the same privilege, sir?" asked Mr. Embury.
"My wife is own cousin to your new niece, Mrs. Isadore Keith--I think,
too, that she is the bright, attractive sort of woman anybody might be
proud to claim kin with--and we would all feel just so about claiming
it with you. Besides that, Uncle Ronald is a good, agreeable, handy
name to use and to hear."

"Ah ha! ah ha! um h'm! so I think myself; also that this is a handy
company to own as nieces and nephews. But what say you, Annis, my bonny
bride?" turning to her, with a look that spoke proud ownership.

"That I am entirely willing you should be uncle and I aunt to the whole
crowd of good people here, if they desire it," Annis answered, with a
look of amusement. "It will not make us really any older in feeling or
appearance. And I am quite accustomed to having nieces and nephews not
very many years younger than myself."

"And have not found it a nearly unendurable trial, I hope, Aunt Annis?"
Cyril said inquiringly.

"No; quite the contrary," she answered. "But, to change the subject;
there is a good deal that is interesting to be seen about here, is
there not?"

"Yes, indeed! This is Middletown; it was formerly a part of Newport,
and known in those times as 'ye woods.' It has an area of twelve and a
half square miles. There are five schoolhouses, three churches, and a
town hall."

"Why, I thought it was country!" exclaimed Rosie. "As we drove along
I noticed little groups of houses here and there, but there seemed to
be farms, orchards, and fields; also a good many rocky-looking hills;
some that didn't seem to be cultivated at all."

"Yet, there is so much beauty that it seems to me worthy of its
name--Paradise Valley," remarked her mother.

"I think so," said Cyril, "and I expect to enjoy taking you all to its
various places of interest--Purgatory Rocks, Sachuest and Easton's
Beaches, Hanging Rocks, and the site of the former residence of Bishop
Berkeley."

"Who was he?" asked Grace.

"A clergyman, born in Ireland, educated in England; a learned man and
author of a number of books; a good Christian man too; one of whose
projects was the founding of a college in the Bermudas for the training
of ministers to supply churches and teach Christianity to the savages
of America. The English government was to supply the means, but failed
to do so, and Berkeley came on here to Newport in January, 1729, bought
a farm, built a small house upon it, and there lived and studied,
preaching occasionally, while waiting for the performance of the
promise of the English government. He waited about three years; then,
convinced that the promise would never be kept, went back to England."

"And he left the income of his property here to be used in educating
students of Yale College, did he not?" asked Violet.

"Yes; gave books too--a valuable collection donated by himself and
friends--and most of the volumes are still there. He had a share in the
formation of Redwood Library here in Newport, also. He was both a very
good and very distinguished man."

"Did he name this Paradise Valley?" asked Grace.

"No, I have been told it was named by Mr. Isaac Barker, who owned a
large part, if not all of it, in Revolutionary days. By the way, his
descendants still live here, one of them in the very house owned and
occupied by him at that time."

"Oh, yes," said Molly; "we must take you to see that house, so
interesting because a relic of the Revolution, and the dear old lady
who is now its mistress. I know you will be much interested in her,
Cousin Elsie, and all she can tell of events here in this valley during
that war."

"I shall be glad to call to see her, if you are quite sure she will not
deem it an intrusion," replied Mrs. Travilla.

"No, I am sure she will not; she is very kind and hospitable, and seems
to really enjoy telling the story of those times to one who shows a
deep interest in it."

"As we all would do," said Mr. Dinsmore, glancing at his watch as he
spoke. "But it is growing late now. Shall we not have our evening
worship together and then retire to rest? Cousin Cyril, as you are a
minister, the rest only laymen, suppose you lead our devotions."



CHAPTER XV.


As they expected to make their stay upon the island but short, and
wished to see every interesting spot, all were up and about early the
next morning.

Naturally the history of the State, and particularly of the island
upon which they were, was the principal topic of conversation at the
breakfast table. Walter began it.

"If my memory serves me right, it was somewhere about here that General
Nathaniel Greene had his quarters in 1778."

"Yes," replied Captain Raymond, "on a farm owned by Colonel Richard K.
Randolph."

"Why, I thought Greene's fighting was done in other parts of the
country!" said Rosie.

"Most of it was," replied the captain, "but being a Rhode Island man he
desired to take a part in the attack on the British, who had possession
of Newport at that time. But I think you all know the story--the
failure of the French troops to take the part expected of them, and to
do the damage to the British vessels coming in from New York which they
essayed to do; then the great storm which damaged the vessels, both of
the French and English; and, soon after, the sailing of the French for
Boston, leaving the Americans to meet the British alone.

"Then the battle was fought on Quaker Hill, after which, though not
defeated, the Americans, hearing of the approach of Howe with large
reinforcements for the British, retreated from the island to the
mainland, in good order and without the loss of a man."

"Did the British go away too, papa?" asked Elsie.

"Not till the fall of the next year," he replied. "They had done a vast
amount of mischief, and desolated the island; they had cut down the
groves of forest trees and many of the orchards, for fuel and military
purposes; they had torn up the meadows, destroyed gardens and ruined
farms. So hard had they made life upon the island that many, it is said
more than half the people, had left the island; wharves were deserted,
commerce was destroyed, and trade abandoned. In December of 1778, the
last winter that they were there, there was a fearful storm--a heavy
fall of snow and cold so intense that many of the Hessians perished,
frozen to death. Accounts say that more than fifty people, mostly
soldiers, lost their lives on that fearful night, and it was long
known as the Hessian storm. The poor fellows suffered very much that
winter, for, after a little, rations were cut down to one-half of
bread, made of rice and oatmeal mixed, the other half of rice. And
fuel was so scarce that they must have suffered much from the cold; to
supply it old houses were destroyed, old wharves torn to pieces. Old
empty houses were used as barracks, and troops were quartered upon the
people still living in others. The State-house was used as a hospital
and some of the churches were turned into riding-schools.

"General Prescott had his quarters in the Bannister House, and it is
said that his spacious sidewalk in front was made of stepstones taken
from private houses, and the whole of the south flight of steps from
those belonging to the State-house."

"I don't see in what respect he was any better than a thief and a
robber!" cried Lucilla indignantly.

"No, nor do I," said her father; "but we must remember that some of the
British officers were a very different kind of men and would not have
at all approved of his doings. Prescott, as we all know, was a great
coward, and cowardice and cruelty are apt to go together."

"Our Washington was very, very brave and never at all cruel," remarked
little Elsie. "Papa, was he ever here?"

"He was in Newport more than once. His last visit was paid while he
was President of these United States in August, 1790. He was escorted
to the Brenton House, the principal hotel of the place; a dinner was
given him in the representative chamber of the State-house, at which
thirteen regular toasts were drunk, Washington giving one--'The town
of Newport.' He left before the rest of the company, and then Judge
Marchant gave the toast, 'The man we love.'"

"Oh, I like that!" said the little girl, her eyes sparkling. "I think
everybody must love Washington--everybody but the British."

"And even some of the British have admired him very much," said her
father, smiling at her enthusiasm.

"And given him high praise," added Walter. "I for one am proud of being
his countryman."

All had now finished their breakfast, and leaving the table they
repaired to the adjoining cottage, exchanged greetings with its
occupants, then together they held their morning service, after which
they arranged their plans for the day.

"As this is Saturday and I leave for Princeton on Tuesday next, I have
only to-day and Monday for looking about and seeing places of interest
in this neighborhood," remarked Walter.

"How and where do you want to go?" asked Mr. Embury.

"Down to the beaches, to all the places connected with the doings of
Bishop Berkeley and the Revolution, all about Paradise Valley, and--to
look at Purgatory; but not to get into it," replied the lad, concluding
with a slight laugh.

"Do you want company or prefer to go alone?" was the next query, to
which Walter replied, "I can go alone, I suppose, but I should prefer
good company if it is to be had."

"Would mine answer that description?"

"Yes, indeed, sir! but, I daresay, you have seen all the places already
and perhaps might be only bored by being asked to repeat your visit."

"Quite a mistake, my young friend; they are worth looking at time and
again."

"I should think so," remarked the captain. "Suppose we make up a party
of such of our members as would enjoy a pretty long stroll, go down
through this valley to the beach yonder, visit Purgatory Rocks and as
many other of the places of interest as we may feel inclined to see
to-day and have time and strength to visit."

"I approve of your plan," said Molly. "I was thinking it would
be best to defer our intended visit to that dear old lady in the
Revolutionary house till Monday, as Saturday is apt to be a busy one
with housekeepers."

"Yes," said Mrs. Dinsmore, "I think it will be quite enough to venture
an intrusion upon her at the most convenient time for her that we can
select."

"A real favor for her to permit it at any time," added Grandma Elsie.

They were gathered on the porch. Captain Raymond now rose and looking
down toward the water said, "Ah, yonder is the _Dolphin_; according to
my order of yesterday she has been brought here to afford a sail along
the coast of the island to any who may desire it."

"Oh, how good and kind in you, captain!" exclaimed Mrs. Keith. "I for
one should be delighted to go."

"All can sail who wish," said the captain. "The _Dolphin_ has day
accommodations for even a larger company than this, and of course we
shall return long before night."

As he concluded, he looked at Mrs. Dinsmore as if expecting her to
speak first, and as she was the eldest lady in the company she did so,
saying: "I for one have been so long on the water that I feel a strong
inclination to stroll down to the beach; though I have no doubt that
the sail will be very enjoyable."

"How would it do to take the stroll to the nearest point to where the
yacht is lying, and then continue your walk, or go aboard the vessel,
as you feel inclined?" asked the captain.

"Oh, nicely! I think," she returned; "especially if some of the others
would like to join me in so doing."

"I should," "And I," "And I," cried several voices, one of them being
Grandma Elsie's, and another Violet's; while at the same time nearly
every one of the children was asking permission to go along.

"Yes, yes! let them all go," said the captain.

"A walk to the beach down yonder will not be too long for any one of
them, I think, and when we get there each one of our party can decide
whether to continue the stroll or board the yacht."



CHAPTER XVI.


"I think we will have to divide our forces," said Mr. Embury, when,
after preliminary preparations and arrangements, all were ready to set
out for the beach and the yacht, "for there are so many of us that we
will astonish the natives and they will probably be asking the meaning
and object of the procession."

"Well, my dear, what of what?" queried his wife gayly. "It will give
them an interesting subject of inquiry and conversation."

"Very well, my Molly; if you like to be talked about, I have no further
objection to make," was his cheerful response.

"There are a good many of us," remarked the captain, glancing about,
"actually two dozen, counting all--big and little, old and young."

"And a very respectable-looking crowd it is," remarked Violet. "I'm not
in the least ashamed of anyone in it. Yet it might be well to break up
into several smaller parties, by the way of guarding against alarming
our good neighbors, or making all the grown up ones keep to the slow
pace of the very little folks. Ah, I see Evelyn, Rosie and Walter, Lu
and Grace, are already on the wing."

"Yes," said the captain; "they have just started in response to a
motion from me to move on. They will reach the beach probably some
minutes ahead of us, but can be trusted not to get into any danger or
mischief."

"Surely," laughed Violet. "Mamma, shall you and I walk together?"

"While I follow with the children," added the captain. "I see your
grandpa and his wife are moving on ahead of us."

"Cousin Ronald should go next with his bonny bride, while we of this
cottage bring up the rear with our children," said Molly.

"Putting a small space between to avoid being mistaken for a
procession," added Mrs. Keith.

"Bound for Purgatory; but none of us to get inside, I trust," said Mr.
Embury. "I hope the young folks won't attempt to climb up those rocks
till we older ones get there to look after them."

"No, I think we'll find them on the beach," said the captain. "I bade
mine wait there for me, and I can say--for mine, at least, that they
love their father well enough to follow his directions carefully."

"That is very true," said Grandma Elsie; "and equally true with regard
to the care with which my Rosie and Walter conform to mine."

"And no wonder, mamma and Levis," said Violet, "for you are both so
reasonable in your commands and prohibitions, so kind and affectionate,
that it would take a very hard-hearted and stubborn nature to rebel
against your authority."

"Ah ha! ah ha! um h'm! that's exactly my opinion," said Mr. Lilburn,
looking round upon them with a smile. "I have noticed many times, with
sincere admiration, the admirable manner in which the children of these
families are trained. I only wish I'd been favored with such examples
before I went at the business myself."

"I see no reason why you should, Cousin Ronald," returned the captain,
"for the only one of your offspring with whom I am acquainted, seems to
me to be all a father could ask or wish."

"Ah ha! um h'm! I'll no deny that my Hugh is as fine a lad as could be
found in a day's travel; and Malcolm not a whit behind him; but neither
will I deny that the credit belongs more to the native goodness o' the
lads than to their father's training."

It was a fine breezy morning, with a delicious coolness in the air,
and all keenly enjoyed the walk to the beach. They spent a few
moments there, then climbed the rocks and passed along the summit
till they reached the deep fissure called Purgatory. There the
children, carefully guarded by their parents, lest a false step should
precipitate them into the deep chasm, were allowed to gaze into its
depths for a moment, then led away and seated on a rock to rest.

Most of the older ones lingered a little longer, watching the movement
of the water at the bottom, and speculating about the depth and width
of the chasm, and what would be the dire consequence of a fall into it.

"I wouldn't advise you to try it, my young friends," said Mr. Embury.
"It must be fully fifty feet down to the water, and if you reached the
bottom alive you wouldn't remain so many minutes."

"No, I suppose not," said Walter, reflectively; "but the fissure is not
very wide and I think I could jump across."

"Oh, Walter, don't think of such a thing!" exclaimed Rosie, stepping
back suddenly, at the same time catching him by the arm and pulling him
away.

"Why, Rosie, do you think I could be such a goose as to attempt
anything so foolhardy as that, when nothing was to be gained by it?"
he exclaimed, in a tone between vexation and amusement.

"No, I don't," she said, drawing a long breath, "but the very thought
of it frightens me."

"To run such a risk without any good object in view--such, for
instance, as the saving of the life of someone else--would be a very
wicked thing, I think," said Mr. Keith.

"I entirely agree with you," said Captain Raymond, "no one has a right
to rush uncalled into the presence of his Maker.

"Oh, I shouldn't think anybody would ever want to try jumping across
here!" exclaimed Grace. "I wonder if anyone ever did."

"It is said that the thing was done once under peculiar circumstances,"
replied Mr. Embury. "The story is that a young and pretty girl, who
had many admirers, suitors for her hand, came here with one of them
and dared him to jump across the chasm, saying that if he did so
successfully, she would marry him; otherwise she would not; whereupon
he attempted the dangerous feat and was successful. But his love for
his cruel charmer was gone; he turned toward her, lifted his hat, bade
her farewell, walked away and left her never to return."

"Which served her just right," exclaimed Lucilla emphatically. "She
couldn't have loved him. Why, I wouldn't let an entire stranger do
so dangerous a thing, if I could hinder him. Unless it might be
somebody who was here to fight against my country," she added as an
afterthought, and with a little laugh.

"You would have let Prescott do it, I suppose--Prescott, the
Revolutionary tyrant--had you been with him here and he had shown an
inclination to try his skill in that line," said Walter.

"I think I shouldn't have made any very strong objection; for certainly
many of my countrymen would have been far better off with him down
there at the bottom of the fissure, than where he was--and had no
business to be. Do you remember the story of the Tory lady at a ball in
Philadelphia, while the British were in possession there, who, when the
British general, Sir Henry Clinton, ordered the band to play, 'Britons,
Strike Home,' said, 'You should say, "Britons, go home"'?"

"Yes, that was pretty good," laughed Walter. "The ladies had at least
one advantage over the men in those days, they could give the invaders
many a home thrust with their tongues without much danger of personal
violence or imprisonment, in return for it."

"That reminds me of a little anecdote of something that occurred in
Charleston, South Carolina, when they were in possession there," said
Grandma Elsie. "One of the British officers had taken a great fancy to
a beautiful American girl, but she would have nothing to do with him;
which, of course, made him very angry. One day they met in the street.
A big negro was near at hand and the British officer said to him, so
that the lady could hear, 'Go and kiss that lady, and I'll give you a
guinea.'

"'Yes,' said she, 'come and kiss me. I'd a thousand times rather be
kissed by you than by him.'"

"So he didn't make much by that," laughed Mr. Embury.

"I wonder if the darkey did kiss her," said Grace. "I'm glad I wasn't
in her place, if she had to let either him or the British officer do
it."

"And you would rather be living now, wouldn't you, daughter?" said her
father, giving her a loving look.

"And belong to you, papa? Yes, indeed!" she replied.

"How very straight these openings in the rocks are!" remarked Walter.
"They look as if they had been cut with a knife."

"Yes, it is very strange," said Rosie.

Then perceiving that the others had turned away and were going toward
the spot where the little ones were, they followed.

"There is a fine prospect here on both land and water," remarked Mr.
Embury. "Do you see that hanging rock over yonder--not close to the
water. That, they say, is where Bishop Berkeley used to preach. I
visited it the other day, and found it so hard a place to climb to that
I should think his congregations must have been small; unless they
stood in the valley below; which would make his pulpit very high above
them."

"Where is the house he lived in?" asked Rosie.

"At some distance, I believe. I have not seen it yet."

"Now," said Captain Raymond, "will any or all of you take a sail in the
_Dolphin_? You can all see her lying out yonder and the row-boat will
soon carry us to her. There is plenty of room for everyone here, a warm
welcome if they choose to go aboard, and a more delightful day for a
sail around the island could hardly be found."

All accepted the invitation with alacrity, descending the rocks to the
beach at once, and were soon aboard.

They found it a very delightful trip. The captain, having been
frequently in those waters, was able to point out every interesting
object, name all the islands, and call attention to the still visible
ruins of fortifications on Gold, Goat, Rose, Contour, and Canonicut
islands. That last, he told them, was the Dumplings Fort, or Fort
Canonicut; and directly opposite was the Castle Hill of the Revolution,
now Fort Adams, three and a quarter miles below Newport. In calling
attention to it, Captain Raymond remarked, "That is, as regards
strength, the third fortress in the United States. It is Newport's
defence against foreign foes."

"I am glad she has such a defence," said Mr. Embury. "But may she never
suffer again from a foreign foe as she did in Revolutionary days.
Perhaps you all remember that her population in 1774, the year before
that war began, was eleven thousand, and in 1782 it was reduced to only
about six thousand, and private property to the value of $624,000 in
silver money had been destroyed."

"Yes," said the captain, "there had been great and wanton destruction
by the ruthless invaders, in both town and country. The island of Rhode
Island had been so celebrated for its beauty and salubrity, before that
war, that it was the chosen resort of the rich and philosophical from
nearly every part of the civilized world; but war had sadly changed it
before the British left, after three years of occupancy, in which they
had pillaged and destroyed more like savages than civilized men; though
after Prescott was superseded by Sir Robert Pigot as commander of the
British forces on the island, the people were much relieved. They were
treated with respect, and plunder ceased. General Pigot was a gentleman
and no marauder."



CHAPTER XVII.


The sun was setting as the _Dolphin_ discharged her complement of
passengers, and they walked up the valley to their temporary abodes.
They had had their evening meal upon the yacht, and the little ones
were ready and glad to be taken at once to their beds, the older to
sit in restful quiet upon the porches, enjoying the evening breeze, a
cheerful chat over all they had seen and learned in their delightful
little excursion around the island, and in laying plans for others of
the same kind, and for walks and drives here and there, till every
interesting spot in the neighborhood should have received from them due
attention. Also in making arrangements for attending the public service
of the sanctuary on the approaching Lord's day; the captain having
already planned for the _Dolphin's_ crew to do the same, taking turns
so that the vessel would not be left at any time entirely unguarded.

When all these questions had been discussed and settled, though it
was still early, they held their accustomed evening family service,
and retired to rest, that they might hope to awake in good season
refreshed and ready to engage with enjoyment in the sacred duties of
the holy day.

It dawned a lovely autumn day, a cool refreshing breeze coming in from
the bay, making the walk through the lovely valley to the open churches
a pleasure as well as duty.

The services over, they returned home, and after partaking of a simple
dinner, gathered upon the largest of the porches, and each one old
enough to read, with Bible in hand, they spent an hour in the study of
its sacred pages.

The subject engaging their attention was the way of salvation; Mr.
Keith, who was the leader, called for texts showing the one true way,
and they were given by one and another as they found them in God's word.

"'If thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt
believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou
shalt be saved. For with the heart, man believeth unto righteousness;
and with the mouth, confession is made unto salvation,'" repeated the
captain, adding the comment, "Let us notice that the belief which is
unto salvation is evidenced by holy living; belief that is not unto
righteousness is not a true and living faith. The devils believe and
tremble, but theirs is not a saving faith, for they do not love and
trust in Jesus. It is the faith which worketh by love that saves."

"Yes," said Mr. Dinsmore; "it is not enough to have no doubt of
the truth of the Gospel--the good news of salvation through Jesus
Christ--but we must give ourselves to him, love him and rejoice in his
love to us."

"And oh, what a blessing that all may have that faith who will come to
Jesus for it," remarked Mr. Embury; "every one, old and young. 'Look
unto me and be ye saved all ye ends of the earth.'"

"Yes," added Mr. Keith, "there are many good and desirable things to
which some of us can never attain, but salvation by faith is within the
reach of all who will come to Jesus for it. He says,'Him that cometh to
me, I will in no wise cast out.'"

It was Mrs. Dinsmore's turn and she repeated: "'Without faith it is
impossible to please him; for he that cometh to God must believe that
he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.'"

"'Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life,'" repeated
Mrs. Keith.

Then Mrs. Embury: "'Now the just shall live by faith: but if any man
draw back, my soul shall have no pleasure in him. But we are not of
them that draw back unto perdition; but of them that believe to the
saving of the soul.'"

"And those who believe in Jesus are not to hide their faith, as that of
which they are ashamed," said Grandma Elsie; "we are to confess with
the mouth, letting it be known that we believe in Christ and take him
for our Saviour. His own word is, 'Whosoever shall confess me before
men, him shall the Son of man also confess before the angels of God.'"

It was Evelyn's turn. "In Habakkuk ii. 4," she said, "I read, 'The just
shall live by faith.' Again in Romans i. 17, 'The just shall live by
faith.' Galatians iii. 11: 'But that no man is justified by the law in
the sight of God, it is evident: for, The just shall live by faith.'
And here,"--again turning over the leaves of her Bible,--"Hebrews x.
38, 'Now the just shall live by faith: but if any man draw back, my
soul shall have no pleasure in him.'"

She paused, and Lucilla repeated the next verse, "'But we are not of
them who draw back unto perdition; but of them that believe to the
saving of the soul.'"

Now it was Rosie's turn. "I will read a few verses from the third
chapter of Romans," she said, and proceeded to do so. "'Even the
righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all, and
upon all them that believe; for there is no difference: for all have
sinned, and come short of the glory of God; being justified freely by
his grace through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.'"

She ceased and Grace, who had turned to the same passage, went on with
the reading, "'Whom God hath set forth to be a propitiation, through
faith in his blood, to declare his righteousness for the remission
of sins that are past, through the forbearance of God: To declare, I
say, at this time his righteousness: that he might be just, and the
justifier of him which believeth in Jesus.'" She ceased, and Walter
went on:

"'Where is boasting then? It is excluded. By what law? Of works? Nay;
but by the law of faith. Therefore we conclude, that a man is justified
by faith without the deeds of the law.'"

"'Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through
our Lord Jesus Christ,'" repeated Annis, in low, feeling tones.

Then her husband took it up: "'What shall we say then? That the
Gentiles, which followed not after righteousness, have attained to
righteousness, even the righteousness which is of faith. But Israel,
which followed after righteousness, hath not attained to the law of
righteousness. Wherefore? Because they sought it not by faith, but as
it were by the works of the law. For they stumbled at that stumbling
stone; as it is written, Behold I lay in Sion a stumbling stone and
rock of offence: and whosoever believeth on him shall not be ashamed.'"

Walter then spoke again and his was the closing text. "'Watch ye, stand
fast in the faith, quit you like men, be strong.'"

"Let us not forget," said Mr. Keith, "that we are to confess Christ,
owning ourselves as his disciples, under his authority, and ready to
submit to it in all things. Let us not forget that his own word is,
'If any man will be my disciple, let him deny himself, and take up
his cross and follow me.' His cross, let us remember; not one of our
own devising, or one laid upon us by some earthly power without the
Master's word. He alone is Lord of the conscience and the Bible is his
word, revealing to us his will. Also his own command to each one of us
is, 'Search the Scriptures; for in them ye have eternal life: and they
are they which testify of me.' We must never be afraid or ashamed to
let it be known at any time, or in any company or place, that we are
disciples of Christ, to whom the love of our hearts and the obedience
of our lives are due."

A moment of silence followed the closing of Mr. Keith's remarks; a
silence presently broken by Mrs. Travilla's sweet voice beginning the
hymn:

    "Jesus! and shall it ever be
    A mortal man ashamed of Thee?"

The others joined in, filling the air with sweet melody.

Prayers and other hymns followed till the hour set apart for the
service had more than passed away.



CHAPTER XVIII.


The next morning proved bright and fair, as lovely a day as one could
desire; no cloud in the sky save the light fleecy ones that are not
the presage of a storm. Our friends in the cottages gathered about
their breakfast tables in rare good spirits, in spite of the fact that
Walter was to leave them that day, by the evening boat, for his first
experience of life away from home and mother.

The lad appeared in high spirits, partly real but partly only assumed,
to hide the sinking of heart that at times oppressed him at the thought
of so long a separation from her who had been almost all the world to
him from babyhood till now, when he began to consider himself on the
very verge of manhood.

She saw it if no one else did, and her tender mother heart ached for
her "baby boy." For herself too, that she must do without him and his
loving caresses, for months, and know that he was exposed to many a
trial and temptation from which mother love could not shield him. But
oh, there was comfort in the thought that her best Friend was his
also, and would still be as near as ever to both mother and son; still
to them, as to all His children, the Hearer and Answerer of prayer.

"Well, what is to be done to-day?" asked Rosie, when the meal had
fairly begun.

"I propose a visit to 'Tonomy Hill' for one thing," said Captain
Raymond, addressing his remark to the company in general.

"Where is that, and what particular claim has it upon our attention?"
queried Mr. Dinsmore in return.

"It is about a mile and a half north of Newport," replied the captain.
"Tonomy is an abbreviation of Miantonomoh, the name of a Narragansett
sachem whose seat it was in early times. It is a rocky eminence and the
commanding site of a small fort or redoubt during the Revolutionary
war. It is said to be the highest land upon the island except Quaker
Hill, which you will remember we saw toward the northern end as we
sailed round on Saturday."

"Ah, yes! where the battle was fought between the British and our
forces under Greene and Sullivan."

"Is there anything to be seen there--on Tonomy Hill--but the ruin of
the little fortification?" asked Rosie.

"Yes," replied the captain. "The hill is 270 feet above the bay, and
from it we may obtain a fine view on all sides. On the south and west
the city and harbor of Newport, and many islands in the harbor with the
remains of fortifications--Canonicut, with its ruined fort, for one.
Ah, I am forgetting that you saw all from the _Dolphin_ the other day!
Still we could not from there take in the whole view at once as we may
from the hill top.

"Looking oceanward beyond the city, we can see Fort Adams; and, with a
spy-glass, the dim outline of Block Island; beyond it in the Atlantic,
perhaps, if your eyes are good, a faint view, a little more to the
eastward, of the nearest shore of Martha's Vineyard; also of some of
the islands in Buzzard's Bay.

"On the east can be seen Warren and Bristol, and the top of Mount Hope,
the throne of King Philip. To the north there will be a good view of
Narragansett Bay and the towns along its shores."

"Indeed, captain, you make it seem very well worth while to go there,"
observed Mrs. Dinsmore.

"I think that when we get there and look about and around, upon all
that is to be seen, you will be still better convinced of it," returned
the captain. "In addition to what I have already mentioned we can look
upon a large part of the cultivated fields of this island, and find
them rich in natural productions as well as in historical associations."

"Oh, let us go by all means!" exclaimed Violet. "Perhaps our little
folks might not care for it, or might find the climb up the hill too
fatiguing, but they can be left in the yacht or carriage, whichever the
trip is made in."

"Oh, mamma!" exclaimed little Elsie, "I should very much rather go up
that hill with the rest of you, if you will only let me!"

"Well, dear, I should like to let you do as you prefer, but, of course,
it must be just as your papa says," replied Violet, smiling down
affectionately into the eager, pleading little face.

"And papa says you may go if you wish to," said the captain, in his
kind, pleasant tones.

"Me too, papa?" asked Ned eagerly.

"Yes, you too, if you wish to, son," replied his father. "I think even
my baby boy will enjoy the drive, the climb up the hill, and the lovely
view from its top."

"We are going to drive, are we, papa?" queried Lucilla.

"Yes; I have ordered carriages from Newport to be here by nine o'clock;
so that all who wish can drive. But should anyone prefer the yacht it
is at their service. Also, it will be welcome to any who desire a sail
afterward."

After a little more talk, first among themselves, then along with the
occupants of the other cottage, it was decided that all would take the
drive to Tonomy Hill and see the view; then some would drive elsewhere,
others would board the yacht and have a sail.

The engaged vehicles were already at hand, and in a few minutes the
entire company of adults and children were on the way to Tonomy Hill.

All, old and young, greatly enjoyed the drive, and the captain was
plied with questions about this object and that. The windmills
particularly interested little Elsie and Ned. Their father explained
what they were, and why there were so many of them, that they were
made necessary by the absence of streams sufficiently strong to turn
water-wheels, and, of one standing at the junction of the main road and
the lane leading to the Hill, he remarked: "That is an old, old one,
built years before the Revolutionary War. At the time of the war it and
the dwelling-house near by were owned by a man named Hubbard. He was
one of the many Americans whom Prescott turned out of their houses, to
take shelter in barns and other miserable abiding places, while his
soldiers took possession of their comfortable homes."

"What a shame!" exclaimed Ned. "Papa, I'm glad we don't have those bad
fellows here now."

"So am I," replied his father. "We ought to thank God every day for
making us so free, and giving us this dear land of our own. I hope my
boy will always remember to do so."

Reaching the top of the hill, they found the view from it all that
the captain had said. Calling attention to it, now on this side, now
on that, he named the different towns and other objects worthy of
particular attention. Mount Hope was one, and again he spoke of it as
the former home of King Philip.

"Papa," said Elsie, "who was he? I thought we never had any king in our
country."

"The Indians used to have them, and he was king of one of their
tribes," was the reply.

"Is there a story about him, papa?" she asked.

"Yes. Would you like to hear it?"

"Oh, yes, sir! yes, indeed! you know I always like stories."

"Yes; even if they are rather sad; as this one is. But if you wish, I
will tell you a little about it now; perhaps more at another time."

"Oh, tell it all, if you please, Brother Levis," said Rosie. "I don't
believe any one of us would object to hearing it."

Several of the others joined in the request, and the captain, ever
ready to oblige, began at once.

"His original name was Metacomet, but he is frequently spoken of as
King Philip and also as Pometacom. His father was Massasoit, whose
dominions extended from this Narragansett Bay to Massachusetts.
Massasoit took two of his sons, Metacomet and Wamsutta, to Plymouth and
asked that English names might be given them. His request was granted,
one being called Philip and the other Alexander.

"Upon the death of the father, Alexander became chief in his stead, but
soon died suddenly, of poison, it was supposed, and Philip became chief
or king in his stead. He was a bright, enterprising man; sagacious,
brave, and generous. He soon perceived that his people were being
robbed by the whites, who took possession of the best lands, and killed
off the game and the fish upon which the Indians had been used to
subsist.

"Philip's tribe was known as the Wampanoags, or Pokanokets, and their
principal village was there upon Mount Hope. They, and other tribes
as well, felt that they had been greatly injured by the whites, and
planned an offensive alliance against them.

"Philip began his war preparations by sending the women and children
of the tribe away from Mount Hope to the Narragansetts for protection.
Then he warned some of the whites with whom he was friendly of the
coming storm, that they might seek places of safety, and, when they
were gone, bade his followers swear eternal hostility to the whites.

"A dreadful war followed, beginning on the 24th of June, 1675, and
lasting for more than a year. The whites suffered a great deal, but the
Indians still more. Particularly the Narragansetts, who were treated
with great cruelty because they had given shelter to the Wampanoags and
their families.

"They had a fort on an elevation of three or four acres surrounded by
a swamp, studded with brambles and thick underbrush. There were three
thousand Indians in it--mostly women and children. The whites surprised
them, burned their palisades and straw-covered wigwams, and the poor
creatures were burned, suffocated, butchered, frozen, or drowned. Six
hundred warriors and a thousand women and children were killed, and all
the winter provision of the tribe destroyed. Their chief, Canonchet,
escaped then, but was captured and killed the next summer.

"It was on the 12th of the next August that a renegade Indian guided
a large party of white men to the camp of the Wampanoags. The Indians
were asleep, King Philip among them. After the first shot or two he
woke, sprang to his feet, gun in hand, and tried to escape, but, as he
stumbled and fell in the mire, was shot dead by a treacherous Indian.
His death ended the war."

"Poor fellow!" sighed Grace. "He was certainly treated with great
injustice and cruelty. I don't see how the whites could be so blind to
the fact that the Indians had the best right to this country, and that
it was wicked to rob them of their lands."

"Self-interest is apt to have a very blinding influence," said her
father. "And I am afraid we must acknowledge that the whites were the
first aggressors, in their grasping seizure of so much of the land of
which the Indians were the original and rightful possessors."

All having now looked their fill, they returned to their carriages
and drove to other points of interest, one of them Whitehall, the old
residence of Bishop Berkeley. It was a place that all cared to see,
especially a room in it formerly occupied by the dean, where was a
fireplace, ornamented with Dutch tiles, placed there by the dean
himself.

"Oh, how old they must be!" exclaimed Grace.

"Yes, not much, if at all, under two hundred years old," said Walter.
"It sometimes seems odd how much longer things may last than people."

"In this world, you mean," said his grandfather; "but do not forget
that man is immortal, and must live somewhere to all eternity."

"And Bishop Berkeley is no doubt spending his eternity in a far
lovelier paradise than that with which he was familiar in this world,"
remarked Mrs. Travilla.

"Yes, indeed! 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord,'" quoted
Evelyn softly, thinking of the dear father who had left her for the
better land years ago.



CHAPTER XIX.


Dinner was ready to be put upon the table when the party reached
again their temporary home, and their long drive had given each one
an appetite that made the meal most enjoyable. They rested upon the
porches for a short time after leaving the table, then set out for a
walk to the beach, Walter at his mother's side, Violet, the captain,
and their two little ones near at hand. These were at some distance
in the rear of the young girls, who had started for the beach a few
minutes earlier.

"Mother," said Walter, "I should like very much to see that dear old
lady Cousin Molly talks about; also the old Revolutionary house she
lives in. Do you think we might call there without seeming to intrude?"

"Really I do not know," replied Mrs. Travilla. "If Molly were only here
she could judge better than I."

"Perhaps she is there," suggested Walter. "I noticed that she started a
little ahead of the girls."

"So she did," said Violet, overhearing their talk, "and I think she is
probably there now, for she was telling me last evening that she felt
anxious that you, Walter, should see her dear old lady before leaving
to-night. Ah! and yonder they both are at the gate of the house now."

"Then I would suggest that you three hasten on, leaving me to follow
more slowly with the children. It would hardly do to overwhelm the
old lady with so large a company at once," said the captain, and
they promptly carried out his suggestion. Mrs. Barker and Molly were
standing by the front gate chatting as they came up.

"Ah, here they are, Mrs. Barker!" said Molly; "my cousins, Mrs.
Travilla, her daughter, Mrs. Raymond, and her son Walter. He is the lad
I was telling you of, who starts for college to-night, and was very
desirous to see you and your revolutionary house before going."

"And to hear all you can tell me about its experiences in those days,
Mrs. Barker, if you will be so kind," added Walter, with a polite bow
and his most insinuating smile.

"I shall be happy to tell and show all I can to you and your mother and
sister," replied the old lady, leading the way toward the house, her
guests following.

She took them over the greater part of it, telling them what rooms
had been occupied by the Hessians, and what by the family while the
unwelcome intruders were there. They were much interested in all she
told them, and admired her housekeeping, everything being in beautiful
order. She told them the Mr. Barker of those days was a true patriot,
in fact, a spy working for the American cause, and when their call was
finished and they were taking their departure, she went with them to
the gate, and pointing out a ledge of rock on the farther side of the
valley, beyond the cottages they were occupying, told them that in
revolutionary times that was a part of the large tract of land owned
by Isaac Barker; that, in those days, instead of the stone wall now
running along its edge overlooking the water, there was a rail fence;
and that Isaac Barker was in the habit of signalling the patriot troops
encamped on an island opposite, whenever there was an important item
of news for them, and that he did so by alterations in the fence, made
under his supervision by the unsuspecting Hessians.

"Oh, that was good!" cried Walter; "but did the British never catch him
at it?"

"No, never," she replied. "If they had, his life would not have been
worth much."

"You must think a great deal of this old house," said Walter, turning
and looking it over with admiring eyes. "If it were mine I wouldn't
give it for any of the grand palaces built in these later days."

"Nor would I," she said. "Come and see it again; it and me; if you care
to do so."

"Thank you; I should enjoy doing so, but I leave to-night for college."

"Ah? I am glad for you; for a good education is worth more than money
or almost any other earthly thing."

"So I think, because it will enable me, or anyone who has it, to be
more useful in the world."

"That is a right feeling," she said; then turning to the ladies gave
them a warm invitation to call again any day, as they passed on their
way to the beach.

"Thank you, Mrs. Barker," said Grandma Elsie. "It is quite likely we
may do so, for we have greatly enjoyed our chat with you."

"And will be glad to have you return our call, if you can conveniently
do so, while we linger in your neighborhood," added Violet.

Arrived at the beach, Violet joined her husband and the young folks
there, but her mother and Walter passed on up the cliff, the lad saying
laughingly that he wanted another peep into Purgatory before leaving
the neighborhood; but, as his mother well understood, a bit of private
chat with her was the chief object he had in view.

They took a peep into the chasm, then wandered away a little and sat
down side by side upon a ledge of rock. Looking at him with her own
loving smile, she laid her hand in his. He clasped it tightly, while
unbidden tears sprang to his eyes.

"Mother," he said low and tremulously, "my own dear mother! You are
almost all the world to me. I think no other fellow had so dear and
sweet a mother as mine. I don't know how I shall ever stand it to pass
weeks and months without a sight of your dear face."

"Ah, you will soon learn to do without me," she said, between a sigh
and a smile. "But I do not believe my dear baby boy will ever cease to
love his mother, or to try to make her happy by a faithful attendance
to all his duties. But oh, above all, try to please and honor the God
of your fathers whose servant you profess to be. Begin every day with
an earnest supplication for strength to perform every duty and resist
every temptation."

"It is my fixed purpose to do so, mother dear, and I know you will be
ever helping me with your prayers," he answered earnestly. "Oh, what a
blessing it is to have a praying, Christian mother! And I know that you
will write to me often, and that your dear letters will be a great help
to me in my efforts to resist temptation and keep in the strait and
narrow path."

"I hope so," she said; "also that my dear youngest son will never learn
to conceal things from his mother, but will write me freely of all that
concerns him, never doubting my love or my interest in it all, for his
dear sake."

"Doubt your dear love, mother? No, never for one moment! Oh, it will
be hard to part from you to-day, even though I hope to see you again
before you go home!"

"Yes, I expect to give you a call at the college, to see that my dear
son is made as comfortable as possible, and to take a view of his room
and all his surroundings, that I may be able to picture him in my
mind's eye at his studies, recitations, and sports."

"Just as I can see my loved mother in every room of the dear home at
Ion, or the other one at Viamede, should you go there at any time
without me," he returned, making a determined effort to speak lightly.
"It seems a little hard to start off without you, mother; but as
Cousin Cyril has kindly promised to go with me, I shall do very well,
especially with the knowledge that I am to see you again in a few
days."

"Yes," she said, "and you will like those New Jersey relatives of his,
who are more distantly related to us, when you become acquainted with
them, as I hope you will at some not very distant day."

"The uncle he is expecting to visit there is a brother of Cousin Annis,
is he not?" asked Walter.

"Yes."

"Then I should think she and her husband, Cousin Ronald, would go with
Cousin Cyril."

"I think they will follow a few days hence, when we start for home,"
she answered.

Just at that moment they were startled by a wild shriek, as of one in
great peril or affright, instantly followed by a sound as of a heavy
body plunging into the water. Both started to their feet, Walter
exclaiming, "Oh, mother! someone must have fallen into that dreadful
deep chasm they call Purgatory! Oh, what can we do?"

"Nothing," she answered, with a laugh that sounded slightly hysterical.
"See! Cousin Ronald and several of the others have come up the hill
unnoticed by us."

"Oh! I think it was rather too bad for him to startle you so, mamma
dear!" exclaimed Walter.

"Yes, I must acknowledge that it was," returned Mr. Lilburn, who had
now drawn near enough to overhear the remark. "Pardon me, Cousin Elsie;
I really did not intend to give you such a fright; for I deemed it
likely you would know at once that it was I and none other."

"As I probably should, had I been aware of your vicinity," she
returned, in a pleasant tone; "but my boy and I were so engrossed with
our talk that we did not perceive your approach. I think Walter and I
must now go back to the cottage and see to the packing of his trunk."

"Cannot I do that, mamma?" queried Violet.

"Thank you, daughter, I have no doubt you could, but I have a fancy for
the job myself," was the pleasant-toned reply. "Besides, your place
is with your husband and little ones, who, I think, would find it
agreeable and beneficial to remain here on the beach for another hour
or so."

"I haven't unpacked much since we came here, mother," remarked Walter,
as they walked away together, "so that it will not be a long job to get
my things in my trunk, but I am glad you came away so early with me,
as it gives us time and opportunity for another private chat."

"Yes, my dear boy, that was my principal object in proposing this early
return, but I hope for many another pleasant chat with my dear youngest
son in the years to come," his mother responded cheerfully.

"I haven't seen quite all the places in and about Newport or Middletown
that I should take an interest in examining," remarked Walter. "But I
presume I may hope to come again some day?"

"Oh, yes; possibly a good many times in the course of a few years;
though there are many other places in our great, beautiful country
that are quite as well worth visiting, and far better worth seeing
than some noted resorts in Europe. I want my sons and daughters to
appreciate their own country," she went on, her sweet face lighting
with enthusiasm, "with all that is beautiful and valuable in it, as
well as its free institutions--religious, civil, and political."

"I think I do, mamma," he said, with a smile. "You have brought up all
your children to admire and love their own land, believing it the best
and greatest country in all the wide world."

"Yes, and yet, alas! there is a vast deal of wickedness in it," she
sighed; "wickedness, error, superstition, and vice, which we should
make it our life work to try to root out."

"As I truly intend to, mamma. But are not most of the ignorant and
vicious those who have come in from foreign lands?"

"A very great many--a very large majority no doubt are," she answered;
"and yet there are many ignorant and vicious ones who are native born;
not a few of them being the children of natives. Some of the Tories
of revolutionary times were even worse than savages. 'The heart is
deceitful above all things and desperately wicked,' applies to the
whole of Adam's fallen race, and each one of us needs to pray, 'Create
in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.'"

"I feel that I do, mother, but you have always seemed to me so perfect
that it is difficult to realize that it can be so with you," said the
lad, turning upon her eyes filled with ardent love and admiration.

"That is doubtless because your eyes are blinded by filial love, my
dear boy," she returned, with her sweet and loving smile.

They presently reached the house, and Walter set about his packing,
under his mother's supervision, which made the work seem but a
pleasant pastime. It did not take long and, seated together in one
of the porches, they had time before the return of the others for a
confidential chat, such as Walter dearly loved to have with his mother.

Then came the call to supper, and the meal was scarcely over when the
hack was announced as at the door; there were hasty leave-takings, his
mother's the last for Walter. She strained him to her heart with some
whispered words of love, while he embraced her with ardent affection,
and in a moment more he was in the hack, with Mr. Keith by his side,
and they were driving rapidly away toward the city to take the night
train for New York.



CHAPTER XX.


The shades of evening had begun to fall. A cool breeze made the
brightly lighted parlor more attractive than the porches, and there
the older ones gathered, while the mothers saw their weary little ones
to bed. The gentlemen had their newspapers, Mrs. Dinsmore and Mrs.
Travilla their fancy work, while the four young girls, in a group by
themselves, chatted and laughed together, discussing the sights and
scenes through which they had passed that day, and the bits of history
connected with them.

The captain presently threw aside his paper, and taking a vacant seat
on the sofa beside his daughter Grace, asked in tender tones, as he
passed an arm about her and drew her close, if she felt very weary from
the day's exertions.

"Not so very, papa dear," she answered, laying her head on his shoulder
and smiling up into the eyes bent so lovingly upon her. "I think I
never had a better time. Have we been to all the places of interest
now?"

"Not quite all," he replied; "there are a few others to which we may
take pleasant little jaunts in the week or so we expect to tarry here."

"Vaucluse for one, I should say," remarked Mr. Embury, laying aside his
paper and joining in the talk.

"Where is that?" asked Mrs. Dinsmore.

"Over on the shore of the eastern bay, and about six miles out from
Newport. It is a noted country seat, at present unoccupied except in
small part by a caretaker and his wife. It has a very neglected look,
but is still well worth seeing, I have been told. But here comes
my Molly with a manuscript in her hand. Something to read to us, I
suppose. Is it, my dear?"

"Yes," she said, with a smile; "provided you all wish to hear it. A
story of the ship _Palatine_ from Holland, which struck on Sandy Point
of this island early in the last century. I have used the facts as far
as they could be obtained, and drawn upon my imagination for the rest.
If all would like to hear it, I shall be glad to have your opinions and
criticisms before offering it for publication."

"Suppose you put it to vote, my dear," suggested her husband. "We are
all here now except the little folks, who have gone to their beds," he
added, glancing at Isadore and Violet, who had come into the room just
in time to hear Molly's last sentence.

"I shall be glad to hear it, Molly. I always have enjoyed such of your
productions as have come under my notice," said Violet, in a lively
tone, as she took the seat her husband had hastened to offer.

"And I can echo those sentiments," added Isadore lightly, taking
possession of an easy chair gallantly drawn forward for her by her
Uncle Dinsmore.

Thus encouraged, Mrs. Embury began at once.

"Story of the ship _Palatine_," she read.

"Some time in the early years of the last century, a ship named
the _Palatine_ left Holland for America, bearing a large number of
emigrants, whose destination was the then colony of Pennsylvania, where
they intended to buy land and settle; and for that reason they were
carrying with them all their earthly possessions--clothing, furniture,
and money; of which some had a good deal, others only a little.

"Among the wealthier ones was Herr Adolphus Follen, with his wife
Margaret, his daughters Katrina and Gretchen, and his son Karl. Also
they had with them an elderly woman, Lisa Kuntz, who had lived with the
Follens ever since their marriage, and acted as nurse to each of their
children in turn. She had no near kin, and being much attached to the
family in which she had made her home for so many years, had decided to
accompany them to the new world in spite of her fears of Indians and
wild animals.

"As the good ship _Palatine_ sailed slowly out of port, all these, with
many of their fellow-passengers, stood upon her deck gazing sadly, and
not a few with flowing tears, upon the fast-receding shores of their
native land. Ah, how much bitterer would have been their grief, could
they have foreseen the sufferings that fateful voyage held in store for
them! Though they little suspected it at the time, they had fallen into
the hands of men so full of the love of money, so ready to do the most
dastardly deeds in order to secure it, that they were no better than
the worst of cut-throats and murderers.

"The emigrants had not brought a store of provisions for the voyage,
because, according to the agreement, these were to be purchased of
the captain and his officers. But scarcely had they cleared the coast
and stood well out to sea when they were struck with astonishment and
dismay at the enormous sums asked for the merest necessaries of life:
20 guilders for a cup of water, 50 rix dollars for a ship's biscuit."

"Astounding rascality!" exclaimed Mr. Embury, as his wife paused for an
instant in her reading.

"Why, how much are those coins worth in our money?" she asked. "I
really do not know exactly."

"A guilder," he replied, "equals 40 cents of our money; so that 20
guilders would be $8. Think of that as the price of a cup of water!
probably not the coolest or cleanest either. Then the 50 rix dollars
for a ship biscuit would equal $18.25. Think of such a conspiracy as
that on the part of a ship's officers to rob defenceless passengers!"

"Why, it was just dreadful!" she exclaimed. "Those officers were no
better than pirates."

"Not a whit! In fact, they were pirates. But go on, my dear; let us
have the rest of your story."

Mrs. Embury resumed her reading.

"'What shall we, what can we do,' asked Frau Follen of her husband. 'I
fear there will be no money left for buying land when we reach America.'

"'Alas! I fear not, indeed!' he returned; 'and should anything happen
to delay the vessel we may be reduced to great extremity even before
reaching the shores of America. Ah, would we had been satisfied to
remain in the fatherland!' he groaned in anguish of spirit.

"'Ah, father,' said Gretchen, the eldest daughter, 'let not your heart
fail you yet. Help may yet come from some unexpected quarter, and if
not--if we die for lack of food--we may hope to awake from the sleep of
death in the better land, to suffer and die no more. Let us trust in
God and not be afraid.'

"'You are right, my daughter,' he returned with emotion. 'But oh, God
grant I may not be called to see my wife and children suffer and die
for lack of food!'

"A young man standing near, one with whom they were slightly
acquainted, here joined in the conversation.

"'It is dreadful, dreadful!' he exclaimed, but speaking in a subdued
tone for fear of being overheard by their inhuman oppressors, 'the way
these mercenary wretches are robbing the helpless poor whom they have
entrapped into their net. Every fellow of them deserves the headsman's
axe, and I hope will reach it at last. Think of the exorbitant sums
they are asking for the barest necessaries of life! Nor do I believe
they will ever carry us to our destination, lest complaint be made of
them and they be brought to condign punishment by the authorities of
the land.'

"'But, what then do you think they will do, Herr Ernesti?' asked Frau
Follen, gasping with fear and horror, as she spoke.

"'I cannot tell,' he answered. 'Mayhap land us on some desert island,
and leave us there to struggle as we can for life. But, thank God,
they cannot take us to any spot where He does not rule and reign, or
where His ear will be deaf to the cries of His perishing ones. So, my
friends, let us not give up to utter despair. "The Lord is my light and
my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life;
of whom shall I be afraid?"'

"'Yes, yes; what consolation in knowing that!' cried Gretchen, tears
of mingled joy and sorrow streaming down her face. 'Father, mother,
sister, and brother, we are all His and He will care for us in His own
time and way.'

"But who shall describe the scenes that followed through weeks of
deepest distress and agony, as fathers and mothers, husbands and wives,
brothers and sisters saw their dear ones perishing with famine, while
they themselves were goaded almost to madness by the pangs of hunger
added to their bitter grief?

"But they were entirely in the power of their inhuman torturers, who
never relaxed in their demands until they had wrenched from their
wretched victims every stiver in their possession.

"That accomplished, and no food remaining--unless a very, very scanty
store--they, officers and sailors, deserted the vessel, going off in
the boats, leaving their helpless victims to their fate, for not one of
them had either the needed knowledge or strength for the management of
the ship; and so she drifted aimlessly hither and thither at the mercy
of the winds and waves, carrying her fearful cargo of dead and dying
whither they knew not.

"To the survivors that voyage seemed like one long, dreadful dream,
full of horrors and keenest anguish of body and mind. Of the many
emigrants who, filled with the hope of reaching a land of freedom and
plenty, had crowded the vessel at the beginning of the voyage, but
seventeen feeble, emaciated, almost dying creatures were left when, one
cold winter morning, about Christmas time, the now dismasted hulk of
the good ship _Palatine_ drifted into Narragansett Bay and struck on
Sandy Point, Rhode Island.

"It was Sunday morning, but the good people of the island seeing the
wreck, and knowing there might be in her some living soul in distress,
hastened on board, where they found the poor, perishing creatures, and
at once carried them all ashore save one woman--Lisa Kuntz, the nurse
of the Follens, who obstinately refused to leave the vessel. She was
seated upon the deck with her belongings about her, and there she was
determined to stay. But she was not safe there, as the islanders well
knew; for the dismasted hulk could not be secured against drifting
away, and as the tide arose around it they, as a last resort, set it on
fire, thinking the lone woman would certainly be frightened, and prefer
coming ashore to remaining upon the burning ship. But she would not,
and as the tide rose the blazing hulk drifted away, carrying her with
it."

"Oh, how dreadful!" sighed several of Molly's hearers.

"Wasn't it?" she responded. "I suppose the sufferings of the poor
creature must have made her insane."

"But the sixteen who were brought ashore, did they live?" asked
Lucilla; and in reply Mrs. Embury resumed her reading.

"The sixteen who had been carried ashore were treated with the greatest
kindness by the islanders, all their wants carefully attended to; but
for nearly all of them help had come too late, and all but three soon
died. Of the Follen family Gretchen alone remained, a lonely, almost
heart-broken creature, having seen father, mother, brother, and sister
laid in the grave soon after landing upon the island. But Herr Hubert
Ernesti remained. He had been beside her all these dreadful weeks and
months, had sympathized in all her griefs, all her sufferings of mind
and body, and each had learned to look upon the other as the nearest
and dearest of all earthly beings; so that when, beside the newly
filled grave that held the last of her family, he asked her to give
herself to him that they might meet all coming trials and share all
joys together, she did not say him nay, or withdraw the hand he had
taken in his and held in a clasp so loving and tender.

"It was from them the islanders learned the sad story of the terrible
scenes and sufferings on board the _Palatine_; an experience poor
Gretchen could never recall without tears.

"Hubert and she remained upon that hospitable island for some years,
then left it for their original destination, where, we will hope, they
lived out the remainder of their lives in peace and happiness."

"And that is the end of your sad little story, is it?" asked Rosie, as
her cousin paused in the reading.

"Of the story of those two," said Molly; "but I have something more to
read, if no one is tired of listening."

No one seemed to be, and she resumed:

"Ever since the burning _Palatine_ drifted away that night a strange
light has been seen at intervals along this coast whence she departed
on that last voyage. Many have seen it, and the superstitious and
ignorant have looked upon it as the phantom of the burning ship
_Palatine_, ever drifting upon the open sea, always burning but never
consumed; seen only at long intervals, as she drifts off the western
coast.

"A well-known physician of Block Island, having had two opportunities
of seeing it, says, 'This curious irradiation rises from the ocean near
the northern point of the island; looks like a blaze of fire; either
touches the water or hovers over it. It bears no more resemblance to
the _ignis fatuus_ than to the aurora borealis. Sometimes it is small,
resembling the light through a distant window; at others expanding
to the height of a ship with all her canvas spread; the streams,
somewhat blended together at the bottom, separate and distinct at
the top, the middle one rising higher than the others. It is very
variable--sometimes almost disappearing, then shining out anew. It
changes about every three minutes; does not always return to the
same place, but is sometimes seen shining at a considerable distance
from the place of disappearance. It seems to have no certain line
of direction. The flame, when most expanded, waves like a torch; is
sometimes stationary, at others progressive. It is seen at all seasons
of the year and, for the most part, in calm weather which precedes an
easterly or southerly storm. It has, however, been noticed in a severe
northwesterly gale and when no storm followed immediately. Its stay is
sometimes short, at others all night, and it has been known to appear
several nights in succession.'

"'This light,' says another person, 'is often seen blazing at six or
seven miles distance, and strangers suppose it to be a vessel on fire.
The blaze emits luminous rays. A gentleman whose house is situated near
the sea tells me that he has known it to illuminate considerably the
walls of his room through the window; but that happens only when the
light is within a half mile of the shore.'"

"But where did you learn all this, Molly?" asked her husband, as she
paused to turn a leaf in her manuscript.

"From Mr. Baylor's 'History of Newport County,' lent me by my kind
friend, Mrs. Barker, of the old revolutionary house," Mrs. Embury
answered, then continued her reading.

"Says Mr. Joseph P. Hazard of Narragansett Pier: 'I first saw it three
miles off the coast. I suspected nothing but ordinary sails until
I noticed the light, upon reappearing, was apparently stationary
for a few moments, when it suddenly started toward the coast, and,
immediately expanding, became much less bright, assuming somewhat the
form of a long, narrow jib, sometimes two of them, as if each on a
different mast. I saw neither spar nor hull, but noticed that the speed
was very great, certainly not less than fifteen knots, and they surged
and pitched as though madly rushing upon raging billows.'"

"Superstition, every bit of it!" remarked Mr. Dinsmore, as Mrs. Embury
folded her manuscript and laid it aside.

"Why this any more than the _ignis fatuus_?" queried Mr. Embury, in a
tone that seemed a mixture of jest and earnestness. "Neither has as yet
been altogether satisfactorily accounted for. The latter having puzzled
philosophers from the time of Aristotle."

"True," said Mr. Dinsmore, "there are various theories advanced
in regard to that. All we know certainly is that it is a luminous
appearance frequently seen in marshy places, churchyards, and over
stagnant pools."

"Has it ever been seen in this country, grandpa?" asked Grace.

"I think not," he replied, "but it is not unfrequent in the lowlands
of Scotland, the south and northwest of England, or the northern parts
of Germany. The time of year for its appearance is from the middle of
autumn till the beginning of November."

"I think I have read that the people of the districts where it was
frequently seen used to be superstitious about it in olden times; and
that they called it Will-o'-the-wisp, and Jack-a-lantern."

"Yes; and believed it to be due to the agency of evil spirits who were
trying to lure travellers to their destruction. And unfortunately it
was sometimes mistaken by unwary travellers for a light, and in trying
to reach it, thinking it shone from some human habitation where they
might find shelter and a night's lodging, they would follow it and so
get into, and sink in, the marsh, thus losing their lives."

"Is it not about time we were seeking our night's lodgings?" asked Mrs.
Dinsmore pleasantly, as her husband concluded his sentence. "See, the
clock is on the stroke of nine, which is a late enough hour for most of
us now, when we are moving about so much during the day. Surely it is
for Gracie, whose eyes, I notice, begin to droop."

"I think you are right, my dear," replied her husband. Then he
requested Mr. Lilburn to lead their family worship.



CHAPTER XXI.


A few days longer our friends lingered in their pleasant cottages on
the beautiful island, loath to leave it, with any one of its many
interesting localities unexplored. They walked, rode, drove, and sailed
about the bay, visiting now one island, and now another. Captain
Raymond's acquaintance with naval and military officers, and his
high reputation among them making it easy for them to gain access to
vessels, forts, and fortifications.

Goat Island interested them as the place where the English ship
_Liberty_ was destroyed before the Revolution. They saw the noble stone
pier, hundreds of feet long, visited the torpedo station, and the
captain pointed out to the others the curving point on which, more than
a century ago, very many pirates had been hanged.

They visited the city too, and looked with interest upon the old houses
that had stood here in and before Revolutionary times; among them
Redwood Library, and old Trinity Church, in which Bishop Berkeley had
often preached.

The young people were much interested too, in the old stone mill--that
singular relic of the past about which there has been so much
speculation--and, when visiting the island cemetery, in the plain
obelisk marking the last resting place of Commodore Perry, the hero of
the battle of Lake Erie.

Many of these things the captain and his family had seen on former
visits to Newport, yet they enjoyed seeing them again in company with
those of the party to whom they were entirely new.

But holidays must come to an end, and at length all felt so great a
drawing toward their distant homes that a proposal to return to them
was made by Mrs. Dinsmore, and hailed with delight by all the others.

The needed preparations were speedily made, and early one morning
they set sail in the yacht, which before night had landed all but the
captain's immediate family and Evelyn Leland in New York, where they
took a train for Philadelphia.

Mr. Cyril Keith was to meet his wife and family there, and they, with
the Emburys, were to hasten on to their homes in Louisiana, pausing on
the route for only a short visit to the neighborhood of the old home of
Isadore and Molly, and the relatives there.

Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore had planned a short visit to their relatives in
and near Philadelphia; and his daughter Elsie, with her daughter Rosie,
one to her son Walter at Princeton; while Mr. and Mrs. Lilburn were to
do likewise by her brother, Donald Keith and his family, Annis feeling
very happy in the thought of seeing them all, and showing them the
dear, kindly old gentleman to whom she had given her heart and hand.

Having landed these passengers, the yacht changed her course, and
sailed on down the Atlantic coast. The little ones were in their
berths, the others all on deck.

"Now, if I were not here, you would be just a family party," remarked
Evelyn, breaking a momentary silence.

"I think we are as it is," said the captain. "As you are a pupil of
mine, will you not let me count you as one of my family?"

"Indeed, sir; I should be only too glad to have you do so," she
answered, in a sprightly tone; "but I doubt if Lu would be willing to
share her choicest treasure--her father's love--with me."

"Why, yes, I should, Eva! because he wouldn't love me any the less for
loving you also," said Lulu.

"Oh, then you may adopt me just as soon as you like, captain," laughed
Evelyn.

"Now, I think I have a right to some say in this matter," said Violet,
in a light, jesting tone. "I object to becoming mother to a girl of
your age and attainments, but am perfectly willing to have you for a
sister."

"Very well, my dear, that settles it," said the captain. "You and I,
Eva, will consider ourselves brother and sister."

"Ah, I like that," said Grace; "though I am not sure that I shall
consider Eva my aunt. Papa, are we going directly home now?"

"Do you not see that we are hurrying onward in that direction?" he
asked in reply.

A sudden thought seemed to strike Grace. "Oh, is Max in Annapolis now?"
she asked.

"Yes," her father answered, with a joyous smile, "and I want to see my
boy so badly that I have decided to call there for a few hours before
going home; unless some of you strongly object," he added, in a jesting
tone.

"Of course we do, papa," laughed Lucilla. "How can you suppose that any
of us would be willing to see Max?"

"Very well, anyone who is averse to seeing him will have the privilege
of shutting herself into her stateroom while he is on board, and
indeed, during the whole visit to Annapolis," replied the captain.

"And I well know Lu will not be one of them," laughed Violet.

They had a speedy and pleasant voyage, a delightful little visit with
Max, after that a joyful return home, followed a few weeks later by
the coming of the Dinsmores, Travillas, and Lilburns, for whom some
pleasant family parties were held, after which all settled down for the
winter's duties and pleasures.

The captain continued to act as tutor to Evelyn and his daughters,
but Rosie had forsaken the schoolroom, Walter was no longer there,
and for a time it seemed a trifle lonely to the remaining ones. They
soon, however, became accustomed to the state of affairs, and so deeply
interested in their studies that the hours devoted to them passed very
swiftly and pleasantly.

They also resumed their labors for the poor and ignorant of the
neighborhood, making clothing for them, and teaching the women and
girls to sew for themselves and their families, at the same time
cultivating their minds and hearts to some extent, by taking turns in
reading aloud to them simple and instructive tales of value for this
life and the next.

It was Grandma Elsie who selected the reading matter and took
the care and oversight of all the charitable work of her young
friends--directing, encouraging, and urging them on, by both precept
and example.

How dearly they loved her! It might be truly said of her, as of the
virtuous woman described in the last chapter of Proverbs: "She openeth
her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness."

THE END



  A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS
   AND OTHER POPULAR BOOKS

            BY

       MARTHA FINLEY


  ELSIE DINSMORE.
  ELSIE'S HOLIDAYS AT ROSELANDS.
  ELSIE'S GIRLHOOD.
  ELSIE'S WOMANHOOD.
  ELSIE'S MOTHERHOOD.
  ELSIE'S CHILDREN.
  ELSIE'S WIDOWHOOD.

  GRANDMOTHER ELSIE.
  ELSIE'S NEW RELATIONS.
  ELSIE AT NANTUCKET.
  THE TWO ELSIES.
  ELSIE'S KITH AND KIN.
  ELSIE'S FRIENDS AT WOODBURN.

  CHRISTMAS WITH GRANDMA ELSIE.
  ELSIE AND THE RAYMONDS.
  ELSIE YACHTING WITH THE RAYMONDS.
  ELSIE'S VACATION.
  ELSIE AT VIAMEDE.

  ELSIE AT ION.
  ELSIE AT THE WORLD'S FAIR.
  ELSIE'S JOURNEY ON INLAND WATERS.
  ELSIE AT HOME.
  ELSIE ON THE HUDSON.
  ELSIE IN THE SOUTH.
  ELSIE'S YOUNG FOLKS.
  ELSIE'S WINTER TRIP.
  ELSIE AND HER LOVED ONES.

  MILDRED KEITH.
  MILDRED AT ROSELANDS.
  MILDRED'S MARRIED LIFE.
  MILDRED AND ELSIE.
  MILDRED AT HOME.
  MILDRED'S BOYS AND GIRLS.
  MILDRED'S NEW DAUGHTER.

  CASELLA.
  SIGNING THE CONTRACT AND WHAT IT COST.
  THE TRAGEDY OF WILD RIVER VALLEY.
  OUR FRED.
  AN OLD-FASHIONED BOY.
  WANTED, A PEDIGREE.
  THE THORN IN THE NEST.

       *       *       *       *       *



 TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES


 Minor punctuation errors repaired.

 Italic text is denoted by _underscores_

 The list of Martha Finley's books has been moved from the front of the
 book to the end.

 p82 Cass added a postcript. replaced with
     Cass added a postscript.

 p105 "All that sounds quite appetizing," said Voilet. replaced with
      "All that sounds quite appetizing," said Violet.

 p117 the provisions, baggage, and amumnition wagons replaced with
      the provisions, baggage, and ammunition wagons

 p119 Perry landed and offered his serivces to Harrison replaced with
      Perry landed and offered his services to Harrison

 p120 from Dolson's to Chatham replaced with
      from Dolsen's to Chatham

 p163 replacing the sight frown replaced with
      replacing the slight frown

 p265 I shall be glad to heard it, Molly. replaced with
      I shall be glad to hear it, Molly.





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