CHAPTER XXXV
Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast The village tyrant of his fields withstood-- Some mute, inglorious Milton here may rest; Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. --GRAY.
It was thirty-three years after the interview which we have just relatedthat an American army was once more arrayed against the troops ofEngland; but the scene was transferred from Hudson's banks to those ofthe Niagara.
The body of Washington had long lain moldering in the tomb; but as timewas fast obliterating the slight impressions of political enmity orpersonal envy, his name was hourly receiving new luster, and his worthand integrity each moment became more visible, not only to hiscountrymen, but to the world. He was already the acknowledged hero of anage of reason and truth; and many a young heart, amongst those whoformed the pride of our army in 1814, was glowing with the recollectionof the one great name of America, and inwardly beating with the sanguineexpectation of emulating, in some degree, its renown. In no one werethese virtuous hopes more vivid than in the bosom of a young officer whostood on the table rock, contemplating the great cataract, on theevening of the 25th of July of that bloody year. The person of thisyouth was tall and finely molded, indicating a just proportion betweenstrength and activity; his deep black eyes were of a searching anddazzling brightness. At times, as they gazed upon the flood of watersthat rushed tumultuously at his feet, there was a stern and daring lookthat flashed from them, which denoted the ardor of an enthusiast. Butthis proud expression was softened by the lines of a mouth around whichthere played a suppressed archness, that partook of feminine beauty. Hishair shone in the setting sun like ringlets of gold, as the air from thefalls gently moved the rich curls from a forehead whose whiteness showedthat exposure and heat alone had given their darker hue to a faceglowing with health. There was another officer standing by the side ofthis favored youth; and both seemed, by the interest they betrayed, tobe gazing, for the first time, at the wonder of the western world. Aprofound silence was observed by each, until the companion of theofficer that we have described suddenly started, and pointing eagerlywith his sword into the abyss beneath, exclaimed,--
"See! Wharton, there is a man crossing in the very eddies of thecataract, and in a skiff no bigger than an eggshell."
"He has a knapsack--it is probably a soldier," returned the other. "Letus meet him at the ladder, Mason, and learn his tidings."
Some time was expended in reaching the spot where the adventurer wasintercepted. Contrary to the expectations of the young soldiers, heproved to be a man far advanced in life, and evidently no follower ofthe camp. His years might be seventy, and they were indicated more bythe thin hairs of silver that lay scattered over his wrinkled brow, thanby any apparent failure of his system. His frame was meager and bent;but it was the attitude of habit, for his sinews were strung with thetoil of half a century. His dress was mean, and manifested the economyof its owner, by the number and nature of its repairs. On his back was ascantily furnished pack, that had led to the mistake in his profession.A few words of salutation, and, on the part of the young men, ofsurprise, that one so aged should venture so near the whirlpools of thecataract, were exchanged; when the old man inquired, with a voice thatbegan to manifest the tremor of age, the news from the contendingarmies.
"We whipped the redcoats here the other day, among the grass on theChippewa plains," said the one who was called Mason; "since when, wehave been playing hide and go seek with the ships: but we are nowmarching back from where we started, shaking our heads, and as surly asthe devil."
"Perhaps you have a son among the soldiers," said his companion, with amilder demeanor, and an air of kindness; "if so, tell me his name andregiment, and I will take you to him."
The old man shook his head, and, passing his hand over his silver locks,with an air of meek resignation, he answered,--
"No; I am alone in the world!"
"You should have added, Captain Dunwoodie," cried his careless comrade,"if you could find either; for nearly half our army has marched down theroad, and may be, by this time, under the walls of Fort George, foranything that we know to the contrary."
The old man stopped suddenly, and looked earnestly from one of hiscompanions to the other; the action being observed by the soldiers, theypaused also.
"Did I hear right?" the stranger uttered, raising his hand to screenhis eyes from the rays of the setting sun. "What did he call you?" "Myname is Wharton Dunwoodie," replied the youth, smiling. The strangermotioned silently for him to remove his hat, which the youth didaccordingly, and his fair hair blew aside like curls of silk, and openedthe whole of his ingenuous countenance to the inspection of the other."'Tis like our native land!" exclaimed the old man with vehemence,"improving with time; God has blessed both." "Why do you stare thus,Lieutenant Mason?" cried Captain Dunwoodie, laughing a little. "You showmore astonishment than when you saw the falls." "Oh, the falls!--theyare a thing to be looked at on a moonshiny night, by your Aunt Sarah andthat gay old bachelor, Colonel Singleton; but a fellow like myself nevershows surprise, unless it may be at such a touch as this." Theextraordinary vehemence of the stranger's manner had passed away assuddenly as it was exhibited, but he listened to this speech with deepinterest, while Dunwoodie replied, a little gravely,--"Come, come, Tom,no jokes about my good aunt, I beg; she is kindness itself, and I haveheard it whispered that her youth was not altogether happy." "Why, as torumor," said Mason, "there goes one in Accomac, that Colonel Singletonoffers himself to her regularly every Valentine's day; and there aresome who add that your old great-aunt helps his suit." "Aunt Jeanette!"said Dunwoodie, laughing. "Dear, good soul, she thinks but little ofmarriage in any shape, I believe, since the death of Dr. Sitgreaves.There were some whispers of a courtship between them formerly, but itended in nothing but civilities, and I suspect that the whole storyarises from the intimacy of Colonel Singleton and my father. You knowthey were comrades in the horse, as indeed was your own father."
"I know all that, of course; but you must not tell me that theparticular, prim bachelor goes so often to General Dunwoodie'splantation merely for the sake of talking old soldier with your father.The last time I was there, that yellow, sharp-nosed housekeeper of yourmother's took me into the pantry, and said that the colonel was nodespisable match, as she called it, and how the sale of his plantationin Georgia had brought him--oh, Lord! I don't know how much."
"Quite likely," returned the captain, "Katy Haynes is no badcalculator."
They had stopped during this conversation, in uncertainty whether theirnew companion was to be left or not.
The old man listened to each word as it was uttered, with the mostintense interest; but, towards the conclusion of the dialogue, theearnest attention of his countenance changed to a kind of inward smile.He shook his head, and, passing his hands over his forehead, seemed tobe thinking of other times. Mason paid but little attention to theexpression of his features, and continued,--
"To me, she is selfishness embodied!"
"Her selfishness does but little harm," returned Dunwoodie. "One of hergreatest difficulties is her aversion to the blacks. She says that shenever saw but one she liked."
"And who was he?"
"His name was Caesar; he was a house servant of my late grandfatherWharton. You don't remember him, I believe; he died the same year withhis master, while we were children. Katy yearly sings his requiem, and,upon my word, I believe he deserved it. I have heard something of hishelping my English uncle, as we call General Wharton, in some difficultythat occurred in the old war. My mother always speaks of him with greataffection. Both Caesar and Katy came to Virginia with my mother when shemarried. My mother was--"
"An angel!" interrupted the old man, in a voice that startled the youngsoldiers by its abruptness and energy.
"Did you know her?" cried the son, with a glow of pleasure on his cheek.
The reply of the stranger was interrupted by sudden and heavy exp
losionsof artillery, which were immediately followed by continued volleys ofsmall arms, and in a few minutes the air was filled with the tumult of awarm and well-contested battle.
The two soldiers hastened with precipitation towards the camp,accompanied by their new acquaintance. The excitement and anxietycreated by the approaching fight prevented a continuance of theconversation, and the three held their way to the army, makingoccasional conjectures on the cause of the fire, and the probability ofa general engagement. During their short and hurried walk, CaptainDunwoodie, however, threw several friendly glances at the old man, whomoved over the ground with astonishing energy for his years, for theheart of the youth was warmed by an eulogium on a mother that he adored.In a short time they joined the regiment to which the officers belonged,when the captain, squeezing the stranger's hand, earnestly begged thathe would make inquiries after him on the following morning, and that hemight see him in his own tent. Here they separated.
Everything in the American camp announced an approaching struggle. At adistance of a few miles, the sound of cannon and musketry was heardabove the roar of the cataract. The troops were soon in motion, and amovement made to support the division of the army which was alreadyengaged. Night had set in before the reserve and irregulars reached thefoot of Lundy's Lane, a road that diverged from the river and crossed aconical eminence, at no great distance from the Niagara highway. Thesummit of this hill was crowned with the cannon of the British, and inthe flat beneath was the remnant of Scott's gallant brigade, which for along time had held an unequal contest with distinguished bravery. A newline was interposed, and one column of the Americans directed to chargeup the hill, parallel to the road. This column took the English inflank, and, bayoneting their artillerists, gained possession of thecannon. They were immediately joined by their comrades, and the enemywas swept from the hill. But large reenforcements were joining theEnglish general momentarily, and their troops were too brave to resteasy under the defeat. Repeated and bloody charges were made to recoverthe guns, but in all they were repulsed with slaughter. During the lastof these struggles, the ardor of the youthful captain whom we havementioned urged him to lead his men some distance in advance, to scattera daring party of the enemy. He succeeded, but in returning to the linemissed his lieutenant from the station that he ought to have occupied.Soon after this repulse, which was the last, orders were given to theshattered troops to return to the camp. The British were nowhere to beseen, and preparations were made to take in such of the wounded as couldbe moved. At this moment Wharton Dunwoodie, impelled by affection forhis friend, seized a lighted fusee, and taking two of his men wenthimself in quest of his body, where he was supposed to have fallen.Mason was found on the side of the hill, seated with great composure,but unable to walk from a fractured leg. Dunwoodie saw and flew to theside of his comrade, saying,--
"Ah! dear Tom, I knew I should find you the nearest man to the enemy."
"Softly, softly; handle me tenderly," replied the lieutenant. "No, thereis a brave fellow still nearer than myself, and who he can be I knownot. He rushed out of our smoke, near my platoon, to make a prisoner orsome such thing, but, poor fellow, he never came back; there he liesjust over the hillock. I have spoken to him several times, but I fancyhe is past answering."
Dunwoodie went to the spot, and to his astonishment beheld the agedstranger.
"It is the old man who knew my mother!" cried the youth. "For her sakehe shall have honorable burial; lift him, and let him be carried in; hisbones shall rest on native soil."
The men approached to obey. He was lying on his back, with his faceexposed to the glaring light of the fusee; his eyes were closed, as ifin slumber; his lips, sunken with years, were slightly moved from theirnatural position, but it seemed more like a smile than a convulsionwhich had caused the change. A soldier's musket lay near him; his handswere pressed upon his breast, and one of them contained a substance thatglittered like silver. Dunwoodie stooped, and removing the limbs,perceived the place where the bullet had found a passage to his heart.The subject of his last care was a tin box, through which the fatal leadhad gone; and the dying moments of the old man must have passed indrawing it from his bosom. Dunwoodie opened it, and found a paper inwhich, to his astonishment, he read the following:--
"Circumstances of political importance, which involve the lives andfortunes of many, have hitherto kept secret what this paper now reveals.Harvey Birch has for years been a faithful and unrequited servant of hiscountry. Though man does not, may God reward him for his conduct!"
GEO. WASHINGTON.
It was the SPY OF THE NEUTRAL GROUND, who died as he had lived, devotedto his country, and a martyr to her liberties.
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