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+Project Gutenberg's Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812., by Sarah Anne Curzon
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+Title: Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812.
+       A Drama. And Other Poems.
+
+Author: Sarah Anne Curzon
+
+Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7228]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on March 28, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Garcia, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks,
+and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+
+LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812: _A DRAMA_ AND OTHER POEMS.
+
+BY SARAH ANNE CURZON
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  "And among them all move the majestic, white-robed bards, striking
+   their golden harps, and telling the tales of the days of old, and
+   handing down the names of the heroes for ever."--JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY
+
+  "The soul of the book is whatever beautiful and true and noble we
+   can find in it."--KINGSLEY'S "HYPATIA."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+TO ALL TRUE CANADIANS,
+
+OF WHATEVER DERIVATION,
+
+THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED
+
+BY
+
+THE AUTHOR.
+
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+
+The drama of "Laura Secord" was written to rescue from oblivion the name
+of a brave woman, and set it in its proper place among the heroes of
+Canadian history. During the first few years of her residence in Canada
+the author was often astonished to hear it remarked, no less among
+educated than uneducated Canadians, that "Canada has no history;" and
+yet on every hand stories were current of the achievements of the
+pioneers, and the hardships endured and overcome by the United Empire
+Loyalists. Remembering that, as soon as she had conquered the merest
+rudiments of reading and grammar at school, she was set to learn English
+History, and so become acquainted with the past of her country, it
+seemed to the writer that there was something lacking in a course of
+teaching that could leave Canadians to think that their country had no
+historical past. Determined to seek out for herself the facts of the
+case, it was with feelings of the deepest interest that she read such of
+the contributions to the newspaper press as came in her way during the
+debate with regard to the pensions asked of Government for the surviving
+veterans of 1812 in 1873-4. Among these was incidentally given the story
+of Mrs. Secord's heroic deed in warning Fitzgibbon. Yet it could not
+pass without observation that, while the heroism of the men of that date
+was dwelt upon with warm appreciation and much urgency as to their
+deserts, Mrs. Secord, as being a woman, shared in nothing more tangible
+than an approving record. The story, to a woman's mind, was full of
+pathos, and, though barren of great incidents, was not without a due
+richness of colouring if looked at by appreciative eyes. Nor were the
+results of Laura Secord's brave deed insignificant. Had the Americans
+carried Beaver Dams at that juncture, the whole peninsula was before
+them--all its supplies, all its means of communication with other parts
+of the Province. And Canada--Upper Canada, at least--would have been in
+the hands of the invaders until, by a struggle too severe to be
+contemplated calmly, they had been driven forth. To save from the sword
+is surely as great a deed as to save with the sword; and this Laura
+Secord did, at an expense of nerve and muscle fully equal to any that
+are recorded of the warrior. To set her on such a pedestal of equality;
+to inspire other hearts with loyal bravery such as hers; to write her
+name on the roll of Canadian heroes, inspired the poem that bears her
+name. But the tribute to her memory would not be complete were it to
+omit an appeal to Canadians, especially to the inhabitants of this
+Province, who, in their prosperity owe to her so much, to do their part,
+and write her name in enduring marble upon the spot where she lies
+buried.
+
+Nor does it seem asking more than a graceful act from the Government of
+the Dominion--a Dominion which, but for her, might never have been--to
+do its share in acknowledgment. One of her daughters still lives, and if
+she attain to her mother's age has yet nearly a decade before her.
+
+The drama of "Laura Secord" was written in 1876, and the ballad a year
+later, but, owing to the inertness of Canadian interest in Canadian
+literature at that date, could not be published. It is hoped that a
+better time has at length dawned.
+
+S. A. CURZON.
+
+TORONTO, 1887.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF 1812
+
+A BALLAD OF 1812
+
+THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE
+
+THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND
+
+OUR VETERANS OF 1812. (A PLEA)
+
+LOYAL
+
+ON QUEENSTON HEIGHTS
+
+NEW ORLEANS, MONROE, MAYOR
+
+THE SONG OF THE EMIGRANT
+
+TO THE INDIAN SUMMER
+
+IN JUNE
+
+LIVINGSTONE, IN MEMORIAM
+
+THE QUEEN AND THE CRIMEAN SOLDIERS
+
+TO A CHILD
+
+HOME
+
+LOST WITH HIS BOAT
+
+LIFE IN DEATH
+
+INVOCATION TO RAIN
+
+REMONSTRANCE WITH "REMONSTRANCE"
+
+THE ABSENT ONES
+
+AWAY
+
+POOR JOE
+
+FRAGMENTS
+
+THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE. (A COMEDY)
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_FABLES: ORIGINAL AND FROM THE FRENCH_.
+
+
+THE CHOICE
+
+INSINCERITY
+
+THE TWO TREES _Le May_.
+
+FABLE AND TRUTH _Florian_.
+
+THE CALIPH _Florian_.
+
+THE BLIND MAN AND THE PARALYTIC _Florian_.
+
+DEATH _Florian_.
+
+THE HOUSE OF CARDS _Florian_.
+
+THE BULLFINCH AND THE RAVEN _Florian_.
+
+THE WASP AND THE BEE _Florian_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_TRANSLATIONS_.
+
+
+IN MEMORY OF THE HEROES OF 1760 _Le May_.
+
+THE SONG OF THE CANADIAN VOLTIGEURS _Le May_.
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE EARTH _Jean Rameau_.
+
+THE EMIGRANT MOUNTAINEER _Chateaubriand_.
+
+FROM "LIGHTS AND SHADES" _Hugo_.
+
+VILLANELLE TO ROSETTE _Desportes_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES
+
+APPENDICES
+
+
+
+
+
+
+MEMOIR OF MRS. SECORD
+
+
+It is at all times an amiable and honourable sentiment that leads us to
+enquire into the antecedents of those who, by the greatness of their
+virtues have added value to the records of human history. Whether such
+inquiry increases our estimation of such value or not, it must always be
+instructive, and therefore inspiring. Under this impression I have
+sought on every hand to learn all that could be gathered of the history
+of one of Canada's purest patriots. As Dr. Ryerson aptly says in his
+_U. E. Loyalists and their Times_, "the period of the U. E.
+Loyalists was one of doing, not recording," therefore little beyond
+tradition has conserved anything of all that we would now like to know
+of the heroism, the bravery, the endurance, the trials of that bold army
+of men and women, who, having laid strong hands on the primeval forest,
+dug wide and deep the foundations of a nation whose greatness is yet to
+come. In such a light the simple records that follow will be attractive.
+
+Laura Secord came of loyal blood. She was the daughter of Mr. Thomas
+Ingersoll, the founder of the town of Ingersoll, and his wife Sarah, the
+sister of General John Whiting, of Great Barrington, Berkshire County,
+Mass. At the close of the War of 1776, Mr. Ingersoll came to Canada on
+the invitation of Governor Simcoe, an old friend of the family, and
+founded a settlement on the banks of the Thames in Oxford County. On the
+change of government, Mr. Ingersoll and his struggling settlement of
+eighty or ninety families found their prospects blighted and their
+future imperilled; Mr. Ingersoll therefore saw it necessary to remove to
+Little York, and shortly afterward settled in the township of Etobicoke.
+There he resided until some time after the War of 1812-14, when he
+returned with his family to Oxford County. Here he died, but left behind
+him worthy successors of his honourable name in his two sons, Charles
+and James.
+
+Charles Ingersoll, with that active loyalty and heroic energy which
+alike characterized his patriotic sister, Mrs. Secord, held prominent
+positions in the gift of the Government and of the people, and was also
+a highly respected merchant and trader.
+
+James Ingersoll, though of a more retiring disposition than his brother,
+was a prominent figure in Western Canada for many years. He was a
+magistrate of high repute, and occupied a foremost position in the
+militia, in which he held the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel at the time of
+his death. This event took place on the 9th August, 1886, at which date
+he had been Registrar for the County of Oxford fifty-two years.
+
+That Mrs. Secord should be brave, ready, prompt in action, and fervent
+in patriotism is not surprising, seeing that all the events of her
+childhood and youth were blended with those of the settlement of Upper
+Canada by the U. E. Loyalists, in whose ranks her family held so
+honourable a position, and whose character and sentiments were at all
+times to be depended upon.
+
+The family of Secord, of which she became so distinguished a member, was
+also a notable one. Family documents exist which show that in the reign
+of Louis the Tenth of France a certain Marquis D'Secor was a Marshal of
+His Majesty's Household. A son of this Marquis embraced the Protestant
+religion, as did younger branches of the family. During the persecution
+of the Huguenots many of them suffered at the stake, and the family
+estates, situated at La Rochelle, were confiscated. The survivors
+escaped the massacre of St. Bartholomew by flight to England along with
+many other noble families, among whom were the Comte de Puys, the
+Baudeaux, and a Holland family, the Van Cortlandts.
+
+Eventually five brothers emigrated to America where they settled in New
+Jersey, purchasing large tracts of land, founding New Rochelle and
+engaging in lumbering. On the breaking out of the Revolutionary War the
+family divided, the Loyalists changing their patronym to Secord by
+placing the prefix "d" at the end of their name. These brothers after,
+as King's men, losing, in common with all the Loyalists, their property
+and estates, emigrated to New Brunswick, again engaging in lumbering and
+milling operations, and; there certain of their descendants are to be
+found today. Some of these, and their sons, again removed to Canada
+West, where one of them, commonly called "Deaf John Secord," who married
+Miss Wartman, of Kingston, was known all along the coast from St. John
+to Quebec for his hospitalities. Among those who settled in the Niagara
+district were Stephen Secord, the miller of St. David's, Major David
+Secord, after whom the village was named, and James Secord, the husband
+of the heroine of 1812. Stephen Secord died before the War of 1812,
+leaving a widow and a family of seven sons. Of Major David Secord, the
+only record I have been able to procure is to be found in _A History
+of the Late War between Great Britain and the United States of America,
+by David Thompson, late of the Royal Scots_, as quoted for me by the
+kind courtesy of Miss Louisa Murray, of Stamford. It is as follows: "The
+Second Lincoln Militia, under Major David Secord, distinguished
+themselves in this action [the Battle of Chippewa] by feats of genuine
+bravery and heroism, stimulated by the example of their gallant leader,
+which are seldom surpassed even by the most experienced veterans. Their
+loss was proportionate with that of the regular army."
+
+At the outbreak of the War of 1812, Mr. James Secord was living at
+Queenston, where he had a lumber mill and stores. He held the rank of
+Captain in the Lincoln Militia until close on the American invasion, but
+resigned in dudgeon at some action of his superior officer, and thus it
+is that in the relation of Mrs. Secord's heroic deed he is not
+designated by any rank. At the first call to arms, however, Mr. Secord
+at once offered his services, which were gladly accepted, and he was
+present at the Battle of Queenston Heights. Here he was severely wounded
+in the leg and shoulder, and lay on the field as one dead, until rescued
+by his brave wife. He never fully recovered from his wounds, and
+received an acknowledgment of his voluntary services to the Government
+in the appointment to the post of Collector of Customs at the Port of
+Chippewa, which he held until his death in 1841.
+
+The married life of Mr. and Mrs. Secord was a most happy one. Their
+third daughter, Mrs. Harriet Smith, who still survives, a cheerful and
+vivacious lady of eighty-six, says that her father and mother were most
+devoted to each other, and lived in the closest mutual affection.
+
+At the date of the Battle of Queenston Heights, the family consisted of
+four daughters and one son: Mary--with whom the great Tecumseh is said
+to have been in love--who was married to Dr. Trumbull, Staff-surgeon to
+the 37th Regiment, and died in Jamaica; Charlotte, "the belle of
+Canada," who, died during a visit to Ireland; Harriet--Mrs. Smith--who
+still survives and lives in great retirement with her eldest daughter at
+Guelph; and Appolonia, who died at the early age of eighteen. Charles,
+the only son, lived at Newark, and his surviving children are Mr. James
+B. Secord, of Niagara, and Alicia, Mrs. Isaac Cockburn, of Gravenhurst.
+
+Two daughters were born to Mr. and Mrs. Secord subsequent to the war.
+Hannah, who was married to Mr. Carthew, of Guelph. and died in 1884,
+leaving several sons, and Laura, who was married to Dr. Clarke, of
+Palmerston, and died young, leaving one daughter, Laura.
+
+Mrs. Smith relates that she very well remembers her mother setting off
+for St. David's, ostensibly to see her brother Charles, who lay sick at
+the mill, and her father's ill-concealed agitation during that trying
+day. What must the night have been to him? She also relates that during
+the short occupation of Queenston by the invaders, their soldiery were
+very tyrannical, entering the houses and stores to look for money and
+help themselves to plunder, and even destroying the bedding, by ripping
+it up with their swords and bayonets, in the search. Mrs. Secord who had
+a store of Spanish doubloons, heirlooms, saved them by throwing them
+into a cauldron of water which hung on a crane over a blazing fire. In
+this she unconsciously emulated the ready wit of one of her husband's
+Huguenot progenitors, a lady, who during the persecution that followed
+the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, at a period of domiciliary search
+for incriminating proofs of unorthodoxy, is said to have thrown a copy
+of the Bible--a doubly precious treasure in those days--into a churn of
+milk from whence it was afterwards rescued little the worse, thanks to
+heavy binding and strong clasps.
+
+Envy having sent a shaft at even so warm and patriotic a breast as that
+of Mrs. Secord, Col. Fitzgibbon sent her a certificate, dated only a
+short time before his death, vouching to the facts of the heroic deed.
+It was evidently one of the cruel necessities of this hard life. The
+certificate runs as follows:
+
+
+FITZGIBBON'S CERTIFICATE.
+
+"I do hereby certify that Mrs. Secord, the wife of James Secord, of
+Chippewa, Esq., did, in the month of June, 1813, walk from her house in
+the village of St. David's to Decamp's house in Thorold, by a circuitous
+route of about twenty miles, partly through the woods, to acquaint me
+that the enemy intended to attempt by surprise to capture a detachment
+of the 49th Regiment, then under my command; she having obtained such
+knowledge from good authority, as the event proved. Mrs. Secord was a
+person of slight and delicate frame; and made the effort in weather
+excessively warm, and I dreaded at the time that she must suffer in
+health in consequence of fatigue and anxiety, she having been exposed to
+danger from the enemy, through whose line of communication she had to
+pass. The attempt was made on my detachment by the enemy, and his
+detachment, consisting of upwards of 500 men, with a field-piece and
+fifty dragoons, was captured in consequence. I write this certificate in
+a moment of much hurry and from memory, and it is, therefore, thus
+brief.
+
+"(Signed) JAMES FITZGIBBON,
+
+"_Formerly Lieutenant in the 49th Regiment_."
+
+
+It is well to consider this great achievement of Mrs. Secord carefully,
+that we may be the better able to realize the greatness of the feat. To
+assist in so doing, it will not be amiss to quote the following, from
+Coffin's _Chronicles of the War_, bearing on the prudential reasons
+of Proctor's retreat at Moravian Town. "But whether for advance or for
+retreat, the by-paths of the forest intermediate were such as the
+macadamized and locomotive imagination of the present day cannot
+encompass. A backwoodsman, laden with his axe, wading here, ploutering
+there, stumbling over rotted trees, protruding stumps, a bit of
+half-submerged corduroy road for one short space, then an adhesive clay
+bank, then a mile or two or more of black muck swamp, may,
+possibly,--clay-clogged and footsore, and with much pain in the small of
+his back,--find himself at sundown at the foot of a hemlock or cedar,
+with a fire at his feet, having done manfully about ten miles for his
+day's work." This was written of a time of year when the fall rains
+predict an approaching winter. Mrs. Secord's exploit was made on the
+23rd of June, a time when the early summer rains that set the fruit and
+consecrate an abundant harvest with their blessing, nevertheless make
+clay banks slippery, and streams swift, and of these latter the whole
+Niagara district was full. Many have now been diverted and some dried
+up. I am happy to be able to give my readers the heroine's own simple
+account of her journey, as furnished me by the courtesy of Mr. Benson J.
+Lossing, author of the "Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812," to
+whom the aged lady in 1862 recounted it in a letter (given in a note in
+Mr. Lossing's book), the historian, on his visit to Chippewa in 1860,
+having failed to see her. She was then eighty-five years of age.
+
+
+"DEAR SIR,--I will tell you the story in a few words.
+
+"After going to St. David's and the recovery of Mr. Secord, we returned
+again to Queenston, where my courage again was much tried. It was there
+I gained the secret plan laid to capture Captain Fitzgibbon and his
+party. I was determined, if possible, to save them. I had much
+difficulty in getting through the American guards. They were ten miles
+out in the country. [Footnote: The American sentries were out ten miles
+into the country; that is, at any point commanding a possible line of
+communication within a radius of ten miles from Fort George, Mrs. Secord
+might come upon an American sentry. The deep woods, therefore, were her
+only security. These she must thread to the best of her ability, with
+what knowledge she might possess of the woodman's craft, for even a
+blazed path was not safe. And by this means she must get out of American
+cover and into British lines. To do this she must take a most circuitous
+route, as she tells us, all round "by Twelve-mile Creek," whose port is
+St. Catharines, climbing the ridge that is now cut through by the
+Welland Canal, and thus doubling upon what would have been the straight
+route, and coming on Fitzgibbon from the back, from the way of his
+supports, for Major de Haren lay at Twelve-mile Creek, but not within
+several miles of where the heroine crossed it. And it was dark, and
+within a few hours of the intended surprise when she reached it. To go
+to De Haren, even though it might have been nearer at that point--it may
+not have been so, however--was a greater risk to Fitzgibbon, whose
+safety she was labouring to secure, than to send him aid which might
+only reach him after the event. Forgetting her exhaustion she proceeds,
+fulfils her errand, and saves her country. _And shall that country let
+her memory die_?] When I came to a field belonging to a Mr. De Cou,
+in the neighbourhood of the Beaver Dams, I then had walked nineteen
+miles. By that time daylight had left me. I yet had a swift stream of
+water (Twelve-mile Creek) to cross over on an old fallen tree, and to
+climb a high hill, which fatigued me very much.
+
+"Before I arrived at the encampment of the Indians, as I approached they
+all arose with one of their war yells, which, indeed, awed me. You may
+imagine what my feelings were to behold so many savages. With forced
+courage I went to one of the chiefs, told him I had great news for his
+commander, and that he must take me to him or they would all be lost. He
+did not understand me, but said, 'Woman! What does woman want here?' The
+scene by moonlight to some might have been grand, but to a weak woman
+certainly terrifying. With difficulty I got one of the chiefs to go with
+me to their commander. With the intelligence I gave him he formed his
+plans and saved his country. I have ever found the brave and noble
+Colonel Fitzgibbon a friend to me. May he prosper in the world to come
+as he has done in this.
+
+"LAURA SECORD.
+
+"CHIPPEWA, U.C., Feb. 18, 1861."
+
+
+Mr. Lossing further adds in his letter to me:
+
+"When, in the summer of 1860, the Prince of Wales visited Queenston the
+veteran soldiers of the Canada side of the Niagara frontier signed an
+address to his Royal Highness; Mrs. Secord claimed the privilege of
+signing it. 'Wherefore?' was asked. She told her story, and it was
+allowed that she eminently deserved a place among the signers. Her story
+was repeated to the Prince. He was greatly interested, and learning that
+the heroine had not much of this world's goods, sent her $500 soon after
+his return home, in attestation of his appreciation of her patriotism."
+
+Her sole surviving daughter at this date, says the gift was carried to
+her mother by ten gentlemen who had formed part of the Prince's suite.
+
+A correspondent at Drummondville, to whom I am indebted for several
+Valuable particulars, says: "Mrs. Laura Second is remembered here as a
+fine, tall, strong woman. Strong, too, in mind, purpose, determination,
+and yet womanly and maternal withal. She is spoken of as _indeed a
+brave woman_, of strong patriotism and courage.
+
+"The difficulties and dangers then, were those of anew, uncleared,
+pathless country increased by lurking foes, and by wandering, untaught
+Indians.
+
+"In connection with her chief act of heroism the following anecdote has
+been told me:--Three American soldiers called at her log house at
+Queenston to ask for water. One of them said, 'You have a nice place
+here, missis, when we come for good to this country we'll divide the
+land, and I'll take this here for my share.' Mrs. Secord was so nettled
+by the thoughts expressed that although the men were civil and
+respectful, she replied sharply, 'You scoundrel you, all you'll ever get
+here will be six feet of earth!'
+
+"When they were gone her heart reproached her for her heat, because the
+men had not molested her nor her property." (Yet her indignation was
+righteous, since they were invaders in the worst sense of the term,
+having no lawful cause for their invasion.) "Two days after two of the
+men returned. They said to Mrs. Secord, 'You were right about the six
+feet of earth, missis! The third man had been killed."
+
+In speaking of the heroine, Mr. James B. Secord, of Niagara, says in a
+letter to me, "My grandmother was of a modest disposition, and did not
+care to have her exploit mentioned, as she did not think she had done
+any thing extraordinary. She was the very last one to mention the
+affair, and unless asked would never say any thing about it."
+
+This noble-minded and heroic woman died in 1868, aged ninety-three
+years. She lies in Drummondville Churchyard, by the side of the husband
+she loved so well. Nothing but a simple headstone, half defaced, marks
+the place where the sacred ashes lie. But surely we who enjoy the
+happiness she so largely secured for us, we who have known how to honour
+Brock and Brant, will also know how to, honour Tecumseh and LAURA
+SECORD; the heroine as well as the heroes of our Province--of our common
+Dominion--and will no longer delay to do it, lest Time should snatch the
+happy opportunity from us.
+
+S. A. C.
+
+TORONTO, 4th August, 1887.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTE.--The headstone of Laura Secord is three feet high, and eighteen
+inches wide, and has the following:
+
+                        HERE RESTS
+                           LAURA,
+                 BELOVED WIFE OF JAMES SECORD,
+                     Died, Oct. 17, 1868.
+                       _Aged 93 years_.
+
+
+The headstone of her husband has the following:
+
+                       IN MEMORY OF
+                    JAMES SECORD, SENR.,
+                    COLLECTOR OF CUSTOMS,
+    Who departed this life on the 22nd day of Feb., 1841,
+                _In the 68th year of his age_.
+
+  Universally and deservedly lamented as a sincere Friend,
+  a kind and indulgent Parent, and an affectionate Husband.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LAURA SECORD:
+
+THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF 1812.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+_British_:
+
+LAURA SECORD, _the Heroine, wife of_ James Secord.
+
+ELIZABETH SECORD, _widow of_ Stephen Secord, _the Miller at St.
+David's_.
+
+MARY, _a girl of thirteen, daughter of_ James and Laura Secord.
+
+CHARLOTTE, _her sister_.
+
+HARRIET, _her sister_.
+
+BABETTE, _the maid at the_ Mill.
+
+A WOMAN, _the keeper of a roadside tavern at_ Beaver Dams.
+
+JAMES SECORD, _a wounded militia officer, home on sick leave, husband
+of_ Laura Secord.
+
+LIEUTENANT FITZGIBBON, _a British officer holding the post at_
+Beaver Dams.
+
+MAJOR DE HAREN, _a British officer lying at_ St. Catharines _with
+his command_.
+
+COLONEL THOMAS CLARKE, _A Canadian militia officer_.
+
+SERGEANT GEORGE MOSIER, _an old Pensioner, and_ U. E. Loyalist _of 1776_.
+
+MISHE-MO-QUA (The Great Bear), _a Mohawk Chief_.
+
+JOHN PENN, _a farmer (Harvey's Quaker)_.
+
+GEORGE JARVIS, _a Cadet of the 49th Regiment_.
+
+_A_ Sergeant _of the 8th Regiment_.
+
+_A_ Sergeant _of the 49th Regiment_.
+
+JAMES CUMMINGS, _a Corporal of Militia_.
+
+ROARING BILL, _a Private in the 49th Regiment_.
+
+JACK, _a Private in the 49th Regiment_.
+
+_Other_ Soldiers _of the 49th, 8th, or King's Own, and 104th
+Regiments_.
+
+Militiamen, _Canadians_.
+
+Indians, _British Allies, chiefly Mohawks_.
+
+TOM, _a child of six, son of the_ Widow Secord.
+
+ARCHY, _a little Boy at_ St. David's Mill.
+
+CHARLES, _a boy of four, son of_ James _and_ Laura Secord.
+
+_Other_ Boys _of various ages from eight to sixteen_.
+
+
+_American_:
+
+COLONEL BOERSTLER, _an American officer_.
+
+CAPTAIN MCDOWELL, _an American officer_.
+
+PETE _and_ FLOS, _slaves_.
+
+_A large body of American soldiers, infantry, dragoons and artillerymen_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LAURA SECORD: THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF 1812
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE 1.--_Queenston. A farmhouse_.
+
+John Penn, a Quaker, _is seated on a chair tilted against the
+wall_. Mr. Secord, _his arm in a sling, reclines on a couch,
+against the end of which a crutch is is placed_. Mrs. Secord,
+_occupies a rocking-chair near the lounge_. Charlie, _a little
+fellow of four, is seated on her lap holding a ball of yarn from which
+she is knitting_. Charlotte, _a girl of twelve, is seated on a
+stool set a little in rear of the couch; she has a lesson-book in her
+hand_. Harriet, _a girl of ten, occupies a stool near her sister,
+and has a slate on her lap. All are listening intently to the_
+Quaker, _who is speaking_.
+
+
+  _Quaker_. The midnight sky, set thick with shining points,
+Hung watchingly, while from a band of gloom
+That belted in the gloomier woods, stole forth
+Foreshortened forms of grosser shade, all barred
+With lines of denser blackness, dexter-borne.
+Rank after rank, they came, out of the dark,
+So silently no pebble crunched beneath
+Their feet more sharp than did a woodchuck stir.
+And so came on the foe all stealthily,
+And found their guns a-limber, fires ablaze,
+And men in calm repose.
+                        With bay'nets fixed
+The section in advance fell on the camp,
+And killed the first two sentries, whose sharp cries
+Alarmed a third, who fired, and firing, fled.
+This roused the guard, but "Forward!" was the word,
+And on we rushed, slaying full many a man
+Who woke not in this world.
+                            The 'larum given,
+A-sudden rose such hubbub and confusion
+As is made by belching earthquake. Waked from sleep,
+Men stumbled over men, and angry cries
+Resounded. Surprised, yet blenching not,
+Muskets were seized and shots at random fired
+E'en as they fled. Yet rallied they when ours,
+At word from Harvey, fell into line,
+And stood, right 'mid the fires, to flint their locks--
+An awful moment!--
+As amid raging storms the warring heaven
+Falls sudden silent, and concentrates force
+To launch some scathing bolt upon the earth,
+So hung the foe, hid in portentous gloom,
+While in the lurid light ours halted. Quick,
+Red volcanic fire burst from their lines
+And mowed us where we stood!
+Full many a trembling hand that set a flint
+Fell lifeless ere it clicked: _yet silent all_--
+Save groans of wounded--till our rods struck home;
+Then, flashing fire for fire, forward we rushed
+And scattered them like chaff before the wind.
+The King's Own turned their left; the Forty-ninth,
+At point of bay'net, pushed the charge, and took
+Their guns, they fighting valiantly, but wild,
+Having no rallying point, their leaders both
+Lying the while all snug at Jemmy Gap's.
+And so the men gave in at last, and fled,
+And Stony Creek was ours.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Brave Harvey! Gallantly planned and carried.
+The stroke is good, the consequences better.
+Cooped as he is in George, the foe will lack
+His forage, and perforce must--eat his stores;
+For Yeo holds the lake, and on the land
+His range is scarce beyond his guns. And more,
+He is the less by these of men to move
+On salient points, and long as we hold firm
+At Erie, Burlington, and Stony Creek,
+He's like the wretched bird, he "can't get out."
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. You speak, friend Penn, as if you saw the fight,
+Not like a simple bearer of the news.
+
+  _Quaker_. Why, so I did.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. You did! Pray tell us how it was;
+For ever have I heard that Quakers shunned
+The sight of blood.
+
+  _Quaker_. None more than I.
+Yet innate forces sometimes tell o'er use
+Against our will. But this was how it happed:
+Thou seest, Mistress Secord, I'd a load
+Of sound potatoes, that I thought to take
+To Vincent's camp, but on the way I met
+A British officer, who challenged me; saith he,
+"Friend, whither bound?" "Up to the Heights," say I,
+"To sell my wares." "Better," saith he,
+"Go to the Yankee camp; they'll pay a price
+Just double ours, for we are short of cash."
+"I'll risk the pay," say I, "for British troops;
+Nay, if we're poor, I can afford the load,
+And p'rhaps another, for my country's good."
+"And say'st thou so, my Quaker! Yet," saith he,
+"I hear you Quakers will not strike a blow
+To guard your country's rights, nor yet your own."
+"No, but we'll hold the stakes," cried I. He laughed.
+"Can't you do more, my friend?" quoth he, "I need
+A closer knowledge of the Yankee camp:
+How strong it is, and how it lies. A brush
+Is imminent, and one must win, you know
+Shall they?"
+His manner was so earnest that, before
+I knew, I cried, "Not if I know it, man!"
+With a bright smile he answered me, "There spoke
+A Briton." Then he directed me
+How I might sell my load, what I should mark,
+And when report to him my observations.
+So, after dusk, I met him once again,
+And told him all I knew. It pleased him much.
+Warmly he shook my hand. "I am," saith he,
+"Lieutenant-Colonel Harvey. Should it hap
+That I can ever serve you, let me know."
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. And then you stayed to see the end of it?
+
+  _Quaker_. Mistress, I did. Somewhat against my creed,
+I freely own; for what should I, a Quaker,
+E'er have to do with soldiers, men of blood!
+I mean no slight to you, James.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_ (_laughing_). No, no! go on.
+
+  _Quaker_. Well, when I thought how tired poor Dobbin was,
+How late the hour, and that 'twould be a week
+Before I'd hear how Harvey sped that night,
+I thought I'd stay and see the matter out;
+The more, because I kind o' felt as if
+Whatever happed I'd had a hand in it.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. And pray where did you hide? for hide you must,
+So near the Yankee lines.
+
+  _Quaker_. It wasn't hard to do; I knew the ground,
+Being a hired boy on that very farm,
+Now Jemmy Gap's. There was an elm, where once
+I used to sit and watch for chipmunks, that I clomb,
+And from its shade could see the Yankee camp,
+Its straggling line, its fires, its careless watch;
+And from the first I knew the fight was ours,
+If Harvey struck that night.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Ha! ha! friend John, thine is a soldier's brain
+Beneath that Quaker hat.
+
+  _Quaker_ (_in some embarrassment, rising_).
+  No, no, I am a man of peace, and hate
+The very name of war. I must be gone.
+  (_To Mrs. Secord_.) My woman longs to see thee, Mistress.
+Good-bye to all.
+
+  _The Little Girls_ (_rising_). Good-bye, sir.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_.  Good-bye, John,
+'Twould please me much to see my friend again,
+But war blots out the sweet amenities
+Of life. Give her my love.
+
+  _Quaker_. I will.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_ (_rising and taking his crutch_).
+I'll walk a piece with you, friend Penn,
+And see you past the lines.
+
+        [_His little daughter_, HARRIET, _hands him his hat_.
+
+  _Quaker_. That's right, 'twill do thee good:
+Thy wounds have left thee like an ailing girl,
+So poor and pale.
+
+                                     [_Exeunt_ Quaker _and_ MR. SECORD.
+
+  _Charlotte_. Oh, dear, I wish I were a man, to fight
+In such brave times as these!
+
+  _Enter_ MARY, _a girl of fourteen_.
+
+  _Mary_. Were wishing aught
+Soon should another sword strike for the King,
+And those dear rights now rudely overlooked.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. My child?
+
+  _Mary_. Oh naught, mamma, save the old tale: no nook
+That's not invaded, even one's books
+Borrowed without one's leave. I hate it all!
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. We must be patient, dear, it cannot last.
+
+  _Harriet_. Oh, if we girls were boys, or Charles a man!
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Poor baby Charles! See, he's asleep; and now,
+Dear girls, seeing we cannot fight, we'll pray
+That peace may come again, for strife and blood,
+Though wisely spent, are taxes hard to pay.
+But come, 'tis late! See Charlie's dropt asleep;
+Sing first your evening hymn, and then to bed.
+I'll lay the darling down.
+
+_Exit_ MRS. SECORD, _with the child in her arms_.
+
+  _Charlotte_. You start it, Mary.
+
+  _Children sing_--
+
+
+  HYMN.
+
+  Softly as falls the evening shade,
+  On our bowed heads Thy hands be laid;
+  Surely as fades the parting light,
+  Our sleep be safe and sweet to-night
+    Calmly, securely, may we rest,
+    As on a tender father's breast.
+
+  Let War's black pinions soar away,
+  And dove-like Peace resume her sway,
+  Our King, our country, be Thy care,
+  Nor ever fail of childhood's prayer.
+    Calmly, securely, may we rest
+    As on a tender father's breast.
+
+                                                             [_Exeunt_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 2.--_The same place and the same hour_.
+
+_Enter_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+After a weary day the evening falls
+With gentle benison of peace and rest.
+The deep'ning dusk draws, like a curtain, round,
+And gives the soul a twilight of its own;
+A soft, sweet time, full of refreshing dews,
+And subtle essences of memory
+And reflection. O gentle peace, when--
+
+_Enter_ PETE, _putting his head in at the door_.
+
+  _Pete_. O, mistis! Heh, mistis!
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. What now, Pete?
+
+  _Pete_. Oh, mistis, dat yar sergeant ossifer--
+Dat sassy un what call me "Woolly-bear."
+An' kick my shin, he holler 'crass to me:--
+"You, Pete, jes' you go in, an' tell Ma'am Secord
+I'se comin' in ter supper wiv some frens."
+He did jes' so--a sassy scamp.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. To-night? At this hour?
+
+  _Pete_. Yes, mistis; jes', jes' now. I done tell Flos
+Ter put her bes' leg fus', fer I mus' go
+An' ten' dat poo', sick hoss.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Nay, you'll do nothing of the kind! You'll stay
+And wait upon these men. I'll not have Flos
+Left single-handed by your cowardice.
+
+  _Pete_. I aint a coward-ef I hed a club;
+Dat poo', sick hoss--
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Nonsense! Go call me Flos, and see you play
+  no tricks to-night.
+
+  _Pete_. No, mistis, no; no tricks. [_Aside_. Ef I'd a club!]
+  _He calls from the door_: Flos! Flos! Ma'am Secord wants ye.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord (spreading a cloth upon the table)_. God help us if
+    these men much longer live
+Upon our failing stores.
+
+_Enter_ FLOS.
+
+What have you got to feed these fellows, Flos?
+
+  _Flos_. De mistis knows it aint much, pas' noo bread,
+An' two--three pies. I've sot some bacon sisslin',
+An' put some taties on when Pete done tole me.
+
+  _Pete_. Give 'em de cider, mistis, an' some beer,
+And let 'em drink 'em drunk till mas'r come
+An' tell me kick 'em out.
+
+  _Flos_. You!--jes' hol' yer sassy tongue.
+
+                                        [_Footsteps are heard without_.
+
+_Pete_. Dat's um. Dey's comin'. Dat poo', sick hoss--
+
+                                              [_He makes for the door_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. You, Pete, come back and lay this cloth,
+  And wait at table properly with Flos.
+
+_Enter a_ Sergeant, _a_ Corporal _and four_ Privates.
+
+  _Sergeant (striking Pete on the head with his cane)_. That's for
+  your ugly phiz and impudence.
+
+                                                 [_Exit Pete, howling_.
+
+(_To Mrs. Secord_.) Your slaves are saucy, Mistress Secord.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Well, sir!
+
+  _Sergeant_. None of my business, eh? Well, 'tis sometimes,
+You see. You got my message: what's to eat?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. My children's food, sir. This nor post-house is,
+Nor inn, to take your orders.
+
+                             [FLOS _and_ PETE _enter, carrying dishes_.
+
+  _Sergeant_. O, bless you, we don't order; we command.
+Here, men, sit down.
+
+            [_He seats himself at the head of the table, and the others
+              take their places, some of them greeting_ MRS. SECORD
+              _with a salute of respect_.
+
+Boy, fill those jugs. You girl,
+Set that dish down by me, and haste with more.
+Bacon's poor stuff when lamb and mint's in season.
+Why don't you kill that lamb, Ma'am Secord?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. 'Tis a child's pet.
+
+  _Sergeant_. O, pets be hanged!
+
+                                                   [_Exit_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+  _Corporal_. Poor thing! I'm sure none of us want the lamb.
+
+  _A Private_. We'll have it, though, and more, if Boerstler--
+
+  _Corporal_. Hold your tongue, you--
+
+  _Second Private_ (_drinking_). Here's good luck, my boys,
+to that surprise--
+
+  _Corporal (aside)_. Fool!
+
+  _Sergeant (drinking)_. Here's to to-morrow and a cloudy night.
+Fill all your glasses, boys.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 3.--_Mrs. Secord's bedroom. She is walking up and down in much
+agitation_.
+
+_Enter_ MR. SECORD.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_ (_springing to meet him_). Oh, James, where have you been?
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. I did but ramble through the pasture, dear,
+And round the orchard. 'Twas so sweet and still.
+Save for the echo of the sentry's tread
+O'er the hard road, it might have been old times.
+But--but--you're agitated, dear; what's wrong?
+I see our unasked visitors were here.
+Was that--?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Not that; yet that. Oh, James, I scarce can bear
+The stormy swell that surges o'er my heart,
+Awaked by what they have revealed this night.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Dear wife, what is't?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Oh, sit you down and rest, for you will need
+All strength you may command to hear me tell.
+
+                              [_Mr. Secord sits down, his wife by him_.
+
+That saucy fellow, Winter, and a guard
+Came and demanded supper; and, of course,
+They had to get it. Pete and Flos I left
+To wait on them, but soon they sent them off,
+Their jugs supplied,--and fell a-talking, loud,
+As in defiance, of some private plan
+To make the British wince. Word followed word,
+Till I, who could not help but hear their gibes,
+Suspected mischief, and, listening, learned the whole.
+To-morrow night a large detachment leaves
+Fort George for Beaver Dam. Five hundred men,
+With some dragoons, artillery, and a train
+Of baggage-waggons, under Boerstler, go
+To fall upon Fitzgibbon by surprise,
+Capture the stores, and pay for Stony Creek.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. My God! and here am I, a paroled cripple!
+Oh, Canada, my chosen country! Now--
+Is't now, in this thy dearest strait, I fail?
+I, who for thee would pour my blood with joy--
+Would give my life for thy prosperity--
+Most I stand by, and see thy foes prevail
+Without one thrust?
+
+                                          [_In his agitation he rises_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Oh, calm thee, dear; thy strength is all to me.
+Fitzgibbon shall be warned, or aid be sent.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. But how, wife? how? Let this attempt succeed,
+As well it may, and vain last year's success;
+In vain fell Brock: in vain was Queenston fought:
+In vain we pour out blood and gold in streams:
+For Dearborn then may push his heavy force
+Along the lakes, with long odds in his favour.
+And I, unhappy wretch, in such a strait
+Am here, unfit for service. Thirty men
+Are all Fitzgibbon has to guard the stores
+And keep a road 'twixt Bisshopp and De Haren.
+Those stores, that road, would give the Yankee all.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Why, be content now, dear. Had we not heard,
+This plot might have passed on to its dire end,
+Like the pale owl that noiseless cleaves the dark,
+And, on its dreaming prey, swoops with fell claw.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. What better is it?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. This; that myself will go to Beaver Dam,
+And warn Fitzgibbon: there is yet a day.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Thou! thou take a task at which a man might shrink?
+No, no, dear wife! Not so.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Ay, prithee, let me go;
+'Tis not so far. And I can pass unharmed
+Where you would be made prisoner, or worse.
+They'll not hurt me--my sex is my protection.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Oh, not in times like these. Let them suspect
+A shadow wrong, and neither sex, nor tears,
+Nor tenderness would save thy fate.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Fear not for me. I'll be for once so wise
+The sentries shall e'en put me on my way.
+Once past the lines, the dove is not more swift
+Nor sure to find her distant home than I
+To reach Fitzgibbon. Say I may go.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_ (_putting his arm 'round her tenderly_).
+How can I let thee go? Thy tender feet
+Would bleed ere half the way was done. Thy strength
+Would fail 'twixt the rough road and summer heat,
+And in some, gloomy depth, faint and alone,
+Thou would'st lie down to die. Or, chased and hurt
+By wolf or catamount, thy task undone,
+Thy precious life would then be thrown away.
+I cannot let thee go.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Not thrown away! Nay, say not that, dear James.
+No life is thrown away that's spent in doing duty.
+But why raise up these phantoms of dismay?
+I did not so when, at our country's call,
+You leapt to answer. Said I one word
+To keep you back? and yet my risk was greater
+Then than now--a woman left with children
+On a frontier farm, where yelling savages,
+Urged on, or led, by renegades, might burn,
+And kill, and outrage with impunity
+Under the name of war. Yet I blenched not,
+But helped you clean your musket, clasped your belt,
+And sent you forth, with many a cheery word.
+Did I not so?
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Thou didst indeed, dear wife, thou didst.
+But yet,--
+I cannot let thee go, my darling.
+Did I not promise in our marriage vow,
+And to thy mother, to guard thee as myself.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. And so you will if now you let me go.
+For you would go yourself, without a word
+Of parley, were you able; leaving me
+The while in His good hands; not doubting once
+But I was willing. Leave me there now, James,
+And let me go; it is our country calls.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Ah, dearest wife, thou dost not realize
+All my deep promise, "guard thee as myself?"
+I meant to guard thee doubly, trebly more.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. There you were wrong. The law says "as thyself
+Thou shalt regard thy neighbour."
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. My neighbour! Then is that all that thou art
+To me, thy husband? Shame! thou lovest me not.
+My neighbour!
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Why now, fond ingrate! What saith _the Book?_
+"THE GOOD, with all thy soul and mind and strength;
+Thy neighbour as thyself." Thou must _not_ love
+Thyself, nor me, as thou _must_ love the Good.
+Therefore, I am thy neighbour; loved as thyself:
+And as thyself wouldst go to warn Fitzgibbon
+If thou wert able, so I, being able,
+Thou must let me go--thy other self.
+Pray let me go!
+
+  _Mr. Secord_ (_after a pause_). Thou shalt, dear wife, thou shalt.
+     I'll say no more.
+Thy courage meets the occasion. Hope shall be
+My standard-bearer, and put to shame
+The cohorts black anxiety calls up.
+But how shall I explain to prying folks
+Thine absence?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Say I am gone to see my brother,
+'Tis known he's sick; and if I venture now
+'Twill serve to make the plot seem still secure.
+I must start early.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Yet not too soon, lest ill surmise
+Aroused by guilty conscience doubt thy aim.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. That's true.
+Yet at this time of year do travellers start
+Almost at dawn to avoid the midday heats.
+Tell not the children whither I am bound;
+Poor darlings! Soon enough anxiety
+Will fall upon them; 'tis the heritage
+Of all; high, low, rich, poor; he chiefly blest
+Who travels farthest ere he meets the foe.
+There's much to do to leave the household straight,
+I'll not retire to-night.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Oh, yes, dear wife, thou shalt not spend thy strength
+On household duties, for thou'lt need it all
+Ere thy long task be done. O, but I fear--
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_ (_quickly_). Fear nothing!
+Trust heaven and do your best, is wiser.
+Should I meet harm,'twill be in doing duty:
+Fail I shall not!
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Retire, dear wife, and rest; I'll watch the hours
+Beside thee.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. No need to watch me, James, I shall awake.
+
+[_Aside_. And yet perhaps 'tis best.
+If he wake now he'll sleep to-morrow
+Perforce of nature; and banish thus
+Some hours of sad anxiety.]
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. I'd better watch.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Well then, to please you! But call me on the turn
+Of night, lest I should lose an hour or two
+Of cooler travel.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 4--_Daybreak on the_ 23_rd June_, 1813.
+
+_The porch of_ Mr. Secord's _farmhouse. A garden path, with a
+gate that opens on to the high road from Newark to Twelve-Mile
+Creek_.
+
+_Enter_ JAMES SECORD _and his wife_.
+
+  _Mr. Secord_. Heaven speed thee, then, dear wife. I'll try to bear
+The dreadful pangs of helplessness and dread
+With calm demeanour, if a bursting heart.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Then will you taste a woman's common lot
+In times of strait, while I essay man's role
+Of fierce activity. We will compare
+When I return. Now, fare-thee-well, my husband.
+
+  (_Fearful of being observed, they part without an embrace_. Mrs.
+Secord _walks down the garden slowly, and gathers a few clove pinks; a
+the gate she stops as though the latch were troublesome, raises the
+flowers to her lips, and makes a slight salute to her husband, who yet
+stands within the porch watching her. She then rapidly pursues her way,
+but soon encounters an American sentry, whom she essays to pass with a
+nod and a smile: the man prevents her by bringing his musket to the
+charge, and challenging_.)
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Why do you stop me?
+
+  _Sentry_. Where is your pass?
+You know that none may take the road without one.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. But surely I may go to milk my cow,
+Yonder she is.
+
+                                      [_A cow is seen in the clearing_.
+
+She's wandered in the night.
+I'll drive her back again, poor thing.
+She likes new pasture best, as well she may.
+
+  _Sentry_. Keep you your kine at home, you've land enough.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Why, that's our land, and those our barns and sheds.
+
+  _Sentry_. Well, pass!
+
+                                   [_He suddenly observes the flowers_.
+
+But where's your milking pail?
+I guess the bunch of flowers is for the cow.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_ (_gently_). You are too rough! The pinks weep
+    dewy tears
+Upon my hand to chide you. There, take them;
+
+                                         [_She offers him the flowers_.
+
+And let their fragrance teach you courtesy,
+At least to women. You can watch me.
+
+  _Sentry_. Madam, suspicion blunts politeness. Pass.
+I'll take your flowers, and thank you, too;
+'Tis long since that I saw their fellows in
+The old folks' garden.
+
+  (Mrs. Secord _crosses the road, takes a rail out of the fence, which
+she replaces after having passed into the clearing, and proceeds to the
+barn, whence she brings an old pail, luckily left there, and approaches
+the cow_.)
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_ (_aside_). Could I but get her out of sight, I'd drive
+The creature round the other way, and go
+My own. Pray Heaven the sentry watch me not
+Too closely; his manner roused my fears.
+
+                      [_She waves her hand at the cow, which moves on_.
+
+Co' boss! co' boss. Sh! Haste thee, poor cow;
+Fly from me! though never didst thou yet:
+Nor should'st do now, but for the stake I play.
+
+                                         [_Both disappear in the bush_.
+
+  _Sentry_ (_apostrophising the disappearing "enemy"_). Well,
+mistress, were you gentle as your face,
+The creature wouldn't run you such a race.
+It serves you right! The cows my Anna milks,
+Come at her call, like chickens. O, sweet voice,
+When shall I hear you next? Even as I pace
+With measured step this hot and dusty road,
+The soft June breezes take your tones, and call,
+"Come, Henry, come." Would that I could!
+Would I had never joined!
+But my hot blood o'ermastered my cool sense,
+Nor let me see that always is not bought
+Honour by arms, but often dire disgrace.
+For so it is, as now I clearly see,
+We let the animal within remain
+Unbroke, till neither gyve nor gear will serve
+To steady him, only a knock-down blow.
+Had I, and others, too, within the ranks,
+Haltered our coltish blood, we should have found
+That hate to England, not our country's name
+And weal, impelled mad Madison upon this war;
+And shut the mouths of thousand higher men
+Than he.
+                It is a lesson may I learn
+So as to ne'er forget, that in the heat of words
+Sparks oft are struck that should be straightway quenched
+In cool reflection; not enlarged and fed
+With passionate tinder, till a flame is blown
+That reaches past our bonds, and leaves behind
+Black, sullen stumps where once the green trees grew.
+If honour's what we want, there's room enough
+For that, and wild adventure, too, in the West,
+At half the cost of war, in opening up
+A road shall reach the great Pacific.
+(_A step_). Ha! Who goes there?
+                                                               [_Exit_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 5.--_The Road at the foot of Queenston Heights_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_ (_looking in the direction of her home_). Gone!
+      Gone! Quite out of sight! Farewell, my home,
+Casket that holds my jewels! If no more
+My happy eyes rest on thy lowly roof,
+If never more my ears drink in the sounds
+Of sweeter music, in your loving tones,
+My darlings, than e'er was drawn from harp
+The best attuned, by wandering Aeolus,
+Then let my memory, like some fond relic laid
+In musk and lavender, softly exhale
+A thousand tender thoughts to soothe and bless;
+And let my love hide in your heart of hearts,
+And with ethereal touch control your lives,
+Till in that better home we meet again.
+
+  (_She covers her face with her hands, and weeps unrestrainedly for a
+few seconds, then recovers herself, and raises her hands in prayer_.)
+
+Guard them and me, O Heaven.
+
+     [_She resumes her journey, but still gazes In the direction of the
+       Heights_.
+
+And Brock! McDonnell! Dennis!
+All ye hero band, who fell on yonder Heights!
+If I should fall, give me a place among ye,
+And a name will be my children's pride,
+For all--my all--I risk, as ye, to save
+My country.
+
+                                                               [_Exit_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE I.--_The great kitchen at St. David's Mill. Breakfast-time_.
+
+_At the board are seated the_ Widow Stephen Secord, Sergeant George
+Mosier, _and little_ Tom. Babette _is waiting at table_.
+
+  _Widow_. 'Tis pitiful to see one's land go waste
+For want of labour, and the summer days,
+So rich in blessing, spend their fruitful force
+On barren furrows. And then to think
+That over both the Provinces it is the same,--
+No men to till the land, because the war
+Needs every one. God knows how we shall feed
+Next year: small crop, small grist,--a double loss
+To me. The times are anxious.
+(_To Sergeant Mosier_.) Have you news?
+
+  _Sergeant_. Not much, ma'am, all is pretty quiet still
+Since Harvey struck them dumb at Stony Creek.
+Along the Lake bold Yeo holds them fast,
+And, Eric-way, Bisshopp and Evans back him.
+Thus stand we now; but Proctor's all too slow.
+O had we Brock again, bold, wise, and prompt,
+That foreign rag that floats o'er Newark's spires
+Would soon go down, and England's ensign up.
+
+  _Widow_. Ah, was he not a man! and yet so sweet,
+So courteous, and so gentle.
+
+  _Babette_. _Ah, oui, madame_.
+So kind! not one rough word he ever had,
+The _General_, but bow so low, "_Merci, Babette_,"
+For glass of milk, _et petit chose comme ca_.
+Ah, long ago it must be he was French:
+Some _grand seigneur, sans doute_, in Guernsey then.
+Ah the brave man, madame, _ce hero la!_
+
+  _Widow_. Yes, brave indeed, Babette, but English, English.
+Oh, bravery, good girl, is born of noble hearts,
+And calls the world its country, and its sex
+Humanity.
+
+  _Babette_. Madame?
+
+  _Widow_. You do not understand me, not; but you
+Were very brave and noble-hearted when
+You faced the wolf that scented the young lambs.
+
+  _Babette_. _Brave! moi!_ Madame is kind to say it so.
+But bravery of women--what is that
+To bravery of man?
+
+  _Tom_. An' that's just what I said to Hatty, mother,
+When she declared that Aunty Laura was
+As brave as soldiers, 'cause she went an' fetched
+Poor Uncle James from off the battlefield.
+After the fight was over. That wasn't much!
+
+  _Widow_. You're but an ignorant little boy, my son,
+But might be wiser were you not so pert.
+
+  _Sergeant_. I heard not that before, ma'am.
+
+  _Widow_. Did you not?
+'Tis very true. Upon that dreadful day,
+After Brock fell, and in the second fight,
+When with the Lincoln men and Forty-first
+Sheaffe led the attack, poor Captain Secord dropped,
+Shot, leg and shoulder, and bleeding there he lay,
+With numbers more, when evening fell; for means
+Were small to deal with wounded men, and all,
+Soldiers and citizens, were spent and worn
+With cruel trials. So when she learned he lay
+Among the wounded, his young wife took up
+A lantern in her hand, and searched the field--
+Whence sobs and groans and cries rose up to heaven
+And paled the tearful stars--until she found
+The man she loved, not sure that life remained.
+Then binding him as best she might, she bore,
+With some kind aid, the fainting body home,--
+If home it could be called where rabid hate
+Had spent its lawless rage in deeds of spite;
+Where walls and roof were torn with many balls,
+And shelter scarce was found.
+                That very night,
+Distrustful lest the foe, repulsed and wild,
+Should launch again his heavier forces o'er
+The flood, she moved her terror-stricken girls--
+Four tender creatures--and her infant boy,
+Her wounded husband and her two young slaves,
+'Neath cover of thick darkness to the farm,
+A mile beyond: a feat even for a man.
+And then she set her woman's wit and love
+To the long task of nursing back to health
+Her husband, much exhaust through loss of blood,
+and all the angry heat of gunshot wounds.
+But James will never be himself again
+Despite her care.
+
+  _Sergeant_. 'Twas well and bravely done.
+Yet oft I think the women of these days
+Degenerate to those I knew in youth.
+
+  _Widow_. You're hasty, Sergeant, already hath this war
+Shown many a young and delicate woman
+A very hero for--her hero's sake;
+Nay, more, for others'. She, our neighbour there
+At Queenston, who when our troops stood still,
+Weary and breathless, took her young babe,
+Her husband under arms among the rest,
+And cooked and carried for them on the field:
+Was she not one in whom the heroic blood
+Ran thick and strong as e'er in times gone by?
+O Canada, thy soil is broadcast strown
+With noble deeds: a plague on him, I say,
+Who follows with worse seed!
+
+  (_She rises and prepares for making pies_. Babette _clears off the
+table, and_ Sergeant George _smokes his pipe, sitting close to the
+open chimney, now filled with fresh branches of spruce and cedar_.)
+
+  _Sergeant_. Well, mistress, p'rhaps you're right; old folks aye think
+Old times the best; but now your words recall
+The name of one, the bravest of her sex,
+So far as e'er I saw, save, p'rhaps, the Baroness.
+Tender of frame, most gentle, softly raised,
+And young, the Lady Harriet Acland shared,
+With other dames whose husbands held commands,
+The rough campaign of 'Seventy-six.
+But her lot fell so heavy, and withal
+She showed such spirit, cheerfulness, and love,
+Her name became a watchword in the ranks.
+
+  _Widow_. And what about her, Sergeant?
+
+  _Sergeant_. Well, mistress, as you ask I'll tell the tale:
+She was the wife of Major John Dyke-Acland,
+An officer of Grenadiers, then joined
+To Highland Frazer's arm of Burgoyne's troops.
+At Chamblee he was wounded. Leaving the Fort,
+His wife crossed lake and land, by means so rough
+As tried the strength of men, to nurse him.
+Recovered; next he fought Ticonderoga,
+And there was badly wounded. Lake Champlain
+She traversed to his aid in just a batteau.
+No sooner was he better, than again
+He joined his men, always the first to move,
+And so alert their situation was,
+That all slept in their clothes. In such a time
+The Major's tent took fire, and he, that night,
+But for a sergeant's care, who dragged him out,
+Had lost his life. Twice saved he was;
+For thinking that his wife still lay within,
+Burning to death, he broke away,
+And plunged into the fiery mass. But she,
+Scarce half awake, had crept from out the tent,
+And gained her feet in time to see him rush
+In search of her--a shuddering sight to one
+Loving and loved so well. But luckily,
+Both then were saved. She also shared the march
+That followed up the foe, action impending
+At every step; and when the fight began,
+Though sheltered somewhat, heard all the din,
+The roar of guns, and bursting shells, and saw
+The hellish fire belch forth, knowing the while
+Her husband foremost in the dreadful fray.
+Nay, more; her hut was all the shelter given
+To dress the wounded first; so her kind eyes
+Were forced to witness sights of ghastly sort,
+Such as turn surgeons faint; nor she alone,
+Three other ladies shared her anxious care:
+But she was spared the grief they knew too soon,
+Her husband being safe.
+                         But when Burgoyne
+At Saratoga lost the bloody day,
+The Major came not back--a prisoner he,
+And desperate wounded. After anxiety
+So stringent and prolonged, it seemed too much
+To hope the lady could support such sting
+And depth of woe, yet drooped she not; but rose
+And prayed of Burgoyne, should his plans allow,
+To let her pass into the hostile camp,
+There to beseech for leave to tend her husband.
+Full pitifully Burgoyne granted her
+The boon she asked, though loath to let her go;
+For she had passed hours in the drenching rain,
+Sleepless and hungry; nor had he e'en a cup
+Of grateful wine to offer. He knew
+Her danger, too, as she did,--that she might fall
+In cruel hands; or, in the dead of night
+Approaching to the lines, be fired on.
+Yet yielding to her prayer, he let her go,
+Giving her all he could, letters to Gates,
+And for her use an open boat.
+Thus she set forth, with Chaplain Brudenell
+For escort, her maid, and the poor Major's man--
+Thus was she rowed adown the darkling stream.
+Night fell before they reached the enemy's posts,
+And all in vain they raised the flag of truce,
+The sentry would not even let them land,
+But kept them there, all in the dark and cold,
+Threatening to fire upon them if they stirred
+Before the break of day. Poor lady! Sad
+Were her forebodings through those darksome hours,
+And wearily her soft maternal frame
+Bore such great strain. But as the dark
+Grows thickest ere the light appears, so she
+Found better treatment when the morning broke.
+With manly courtesy, proud Gates allowed
+Her wifely claim, and gave her all she asked.
+
+  _Widow_. Could he do less! Yes, Sergeant, I'll allow
+Old times show tender women bold and brave
+For those they love, and 'twill be ever so.
+And yet I hold that woman braver still
+Who sacrifices all she loves to serve
+The public weal.
+
+  _Sergeant_. And  was there ever one?
+
+  _Widow_. Oh, yes--
+
+_Enter_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+Why, Laura! Now you're just too late
+To have your breakfast with us. But sit down.
+(_She calls_.) Babette! Babette!
+
+_Enter_ BABETTE.
+
+Haste, girl, and make fresh tea,
+Boil a new egg, and fry a bit of ham,
+And bring a batch-cake from the oven; they're done
+By this.
+
+                                                       [_Exit_ BABETTE.
+
+(_To Mrs. Secord_.) Take off your things, my dear;
+You've come to stay a day or two with Charles,
+Of course. He'll be awake just now. He's weak,
+But better. How got you leave to come?
+
+                             [SERGEANT GEORGE _is leaving the kitchen_.
+
+Stay, Sergeant, you should know James Secord's wife,
+Poor Charles's sister.
+
+(_To Mrs. Secord_.) Laura, this is a friend
+You've heard us speak of, Sergeant George Mosier,
+My father's crony, and poor Stephen's, too.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord (curtesying)_. I'm glad to meet you, sir.
+
+  _Sergeant (bowing low)_. Your servant, madam,
+I hope your gallant husband is recovered.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I thank you, sir, his wound, but not his strength,
+And still his arm is crippled.
+
+  _Sergeant_. A badge of honour, madam, like to mine,
+
+                                      [_He points to his empty sleeve_.
+
+_Enter_ BABETTE _with tray_.
+
+                                               [_Exit_ SERGEANT GEORGE.
+
+  _Widow_. That's right, girl, set it here. (_To Mrs. Secord_.)
+Come eat a bit.
+That ham is very nice, 'tis Gloucester fed,
+And cured-malt-coombs, you know, so very sweet.
+(_To Babette_.) Mind thou the oven, lass, I've pies to bake,
+And then a brisket.
+
+                                                       [_Exit_ BABETTE.
+
+(_To Mrs. Secord_.) I thought you fast
+Within the lines: how got you leave to come?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I got no leave; three several sentries I,
+With words of guile, have passed, and still I fear
+My ultimate success. 'Tis not to see
+Poor Charles I came, but to go further on
+To Beaver Dam, and warn Fitzgibbon there
+Of a foul plot to take him by surprise
+This very night. We found it out last eve,
+But in his state poor James was helpless,
+So I go instead.
+
+  _Widow_. You go to Beaver Dam! Nineteen long miles
+On hot and dusty roads, and all alone!
+You can't, some other must.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I must, no other can. The time is short,
+And through the virgin woods my way doth lie,
+For should those sentries meet, or all report
+I passed their bounds, suspicion would be waked,
+And then what hue and cry!
+
+  _Widow_. The woods! and are you crazed? You cannot go!
+The woods are full of creatures wild and fierce,
+And wolves prowl round about. No path is blazed,
+No underbrush is cleared, no clue exists
+Of any kind to guide your feet. A man
+Could scarce get through, how then shall you?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I have a Guide in Heaven. This task is come
+To me without my seeking. If no word
+Reaches Fitzgibbon ere that murderous horde
+Be on him, how shall he save himself?
+And if defeat he meets, then farewell all
+Our homes and hopes, our liberties and lives.
+
+  _Widow_. Oh, dear! oh, dear! and must you risk your life,
+Your precious life? Think of it, Laura, yet:
+Soldiers expect to fight; and keep strict watch
+Against surprise. Think of your little girls,
+Should they be left without a mother's care;
+Your duty is to them, and surely not
+In tasks like this. You go to risk your life.
+As if you had a right, and thereby leave
+Those who to you owe theirs, unpitied,
+Desolate. You've suffered now enough
+With all you've lost, and James a cripple, too,
+What will the children do should they lose you
+Just when their youthful charms require your care?
+They'll blame you, Laura, when they're old enough
+To judge what's right.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I do not fear it.
+Children can see the right at one quick glance,
+For, unobscured by self or prejudice,
+They mark the aim, and not the sacrifice
+Entailed.
+
+  _Widow_. Did James consent to have you go?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Not till he found there was no other way;
+He fretted much to think he could not go.
+
+  _Widow_. I'm sure he did. A man may undergo
+A forced fatigue, and take no lasting hurt,
+But not a woman. And you so frail--
+It is your life you risk. I sent my lads,
+Expecting them to run the chance of war,
+And these you go to warn do but the same.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. You see it wrong; chances of war to those
+Would murder be to these, and on my soul,
+Because I knew their risk, and warned them not.
+You'll think I'm right when tramp of armed men,
+And rumble of the guns disturb you in your sleep.
+Then, in the calmer judgment night-time brings,
+You'd be the first to blame the selfish care
+That left a little band of thirty men
+A prey to near six hundred.
+
+  _Widow_. Just the old story! Six hundred--it's disgraceful!
+Why, Were they tailors--nine to make a man--
+'Tis more than two to one. Oh, you must go.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_.  I knew you'd say so when you came to think:
+It was your love to me that masked your judgment.
+I'll go and see poor Charles, but shall not say
+My real errand, 'twould excite him so.
+
+                                                   [_Exit_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+  _Widow_. Poor Laura! Would to God I knew some way
+To lighten her of such a task as this.
+
+                                              [_Enter_ SERGEANT GEORGE.
+
+  _Sergeant_. Is it too early for the invalid?
+The lads are here, and full of ardour.
+
+  _Widow_. Oh, no, his sister's with him.
+
+                                                      [_Exit_ SERGEANT.
+                             [_A bugle is heard sounding the assembly_.
+
+_Enter_ MRS. SECORD _in alarm_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. What's that! What's that!
+
+  _Widow_. I should have warned you, dear,
+But don't be scared, its Sergeant George's boys.
+He's gathered quite a company of lads
+From round about, with every match-lock, gun,
+Or fowling-piece the lads could find, and drills
+Them regularly every second morn.
+
+He calls 'em "Young St. David's Yeoman Guard,"
+Their horses, "shankses naigie." Look you here!
+
+  (_Both ladies look through the open window from which is visible the
+driving shed: here are assembled some twenty lads of all ages and
+heights, between six and sixteen. They carry all sorts of old firelocks
+and are "falling in." They are properly sized, and form a "squad with
+intervals." In the rear stands a mash-tub with a sheepskin stretched
+over it for a drum, and near it is the drummer-boy, a child of six; a
+bugle, a cornet and a bassoon are laid in a corner, and two or three
+boys stand near_.)
+
+  _Sergeant George_. Now, Archy, give the cadence in slow time.
+(_To the squad_.) Slow--march. (_They march some thirty paces_.)
+Squad--halt. (_They halt, many of them out of line_.) Keep your
+dressing. Steps like those would leave some of you half behind
+on a long march. Right about face--two--three. That's better.
+Slow--march. (_They march_.) Squad--halt. (_They all bring
+up into line_.) That's better. No hangers back with foe in
+front. Left about face--two--three. Keep up your heads.
+By the right--dress. Stand easy. Fall in, the band. We'll try
+the music.
+
+  (_The band falls in, three little fellows have fifes, two elder ones
+flutes, one a flageolet; the owners of the cornet, bugle and bassoon
+take up their instruments, and a short, stout fellow has a
+trombone_.)
+
+  _Sergeant George (to the band)_. Now show your loyalty, "The
+King! God bless him."
+
+                                      [_They play, the squad saluting_.
+
+  _Sergeant George_ (_to band_.) That's very well, but mind
+your time. (_To the squad_.) Now you shall march to music. (_To
+the band_.) Boys, play--"The Duke of York's March." (_To
+the squad_.) Squad--attention. Quick march. (_They march_.)
+Squad--halt.
+
+                               [_At a signal, the band ceases playing_.
+
+Yes, that's the way to meet your country's foes.
+If you were Yankee lads you'd have to march to this (_he
+takes a flageolet)_. Quick--march.
+
+  (_Plays Yankee Doodle with equal cleverness and spite, travestying
+both phrase and expression in a most ludicrous manner until the boys
+find it impossible to march for laughter; the Sergeant is evidently
+delighted with the result_.)
+
+Ho! Ho! That's how you march to "Yankee Doodle."
+'Tis a fine tune! A grand, inspiring tune,
+Like "Polly put the Kettle on," or
+"Dumble-dum-deary." Can soldiers march to that?
+Can they have spirit, honour, or do great deeds
+With such a tune as that to fill their ears?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. The Sergeant's bitter on the foe, I think.
+
+  _Widow_. He is, but can you wonder? Hounded out
+When living peaceably upon his farm.
+Shot at, and threatened till he takes a side,
+And then obliged to fly to save his life,
+Losing all else, his land, his happy home,
+His loving wife, who sank beneath the change,
+Because he chose the rather to endure
+A short injustice, than belie his blood
+By joining England's foes. He went with Moody.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Poor fellow! Those were heavy times, like these.
+
+  _Sergeant George_. Now boys, the grand new tune, "Britannia
+Rules the Waves," play _con spirito_, that means heart! mind!
+soul! as if you meant it.
+
+  (_He beats time, and adds a note of the drum at proper points, singing
+the chorus with much vigour and emphasis. Mrs. Secord betrays much
+emotion, and when the tune is begun for the third verse, she hastily
+closes the window_.)
+
+Shut, shut it out, I cannot bear it, Ellen,
+It shakes my heart's foundations! Let me go.
+
+  _Widow_. Nay, but you're soon upset. If you must go,
+Your bonnet's on my bed. I'll get a bite
+Of something for you on the road.
+
+      [_She busies herself in filling a little basket with refreshment,
+        and offers_ MRS. SECORD _cake and wine_.
+
+Here, eat a bit, and drink a sup of wine,
+It's only currant; the General's got a keg
+I sent, when stores were asked; James Coffin's good;
+He always sends poor Ned, or Jack, or Dick,--
+When commissariat's low; a mother's heart,
+A widowed mother, too, he knows, sore longs
+To see her lads, e'en if she willing sends
+Them all to serve the King. I don't forget him
+Morning and night, and many a time between.
+No wine? Too soon? Well, take this drop along.
+There's many a mile where no fresh water is,
+And you'll be faint--
+
+                                              [_She bursts into tears_.
+
+Good lan', I cannot bear to see you go.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Nay, sister, nay, be calm!
+Send me away light-hearted,
+
+                                                         [_Kisses her_.
+
+I trust in God,
+As you for your dear lads. Shew me the way
+To gain the woods unseen by friend or foe,
+The while these embryo soldiers are engaged.
+
+  _Widow_. I'll go with you a mile or two.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. No, no.
+It might arouse suspicion.
+
+               [_She opens the door, and the_ WIDOW SECORD _joins her_.
+
+  _Widow_. Times indeed
+When every little act has some to watch!
+
+                                                   [_Points to a tree_.
+
+You see yon oak just by the little birch--
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I do.
+
+  _Widow_. There is a little path leads down
+To a small creek, cross that, and keep the sun
+Behind you half a mile, and then you strike
+The bush, uncleared and wild. Good God, to think--
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Think not, but pray, and if a chance occurs
+Send aid to poor Fitzgibbon. Little help
+Just in the nick of time oft turns the scale
+Of fortune. God bless you, dear! Good bye.
+
+                          [_They embrace with tears. Exit_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 2.--_A beautiful glade_.
+
+_Enter_ MRS. SECORD.--_After scanning the spot searchingly, she
+seats herself on a fallen trunk_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. This spot is surely safe; here I will rest,
+For unaccustomed service tires my limbs,
+And I have travelled many a weary rood
+More than a crow-line measures; ups and downs
+Absorb so many steps that nothing add
+To distance. Faint am I, too, and thirsty.
+Hist! hist! ye playful breezes that do make
+Melodious symphonies and rippling runs
+Among the pines and aspens, hear I not
+A little tinkling rill, that somewhere hides
+Its sweet beneficence 'mid ferns and moss?
+
+                                          [_She rises and looks about_.
+
+Ay, here it is: a tiny brilliancy
+That glances at the light, as careful, still,
+To keep the pure translucency that first
+It caught from Heaven. Give me, oh give, sweet rill,
+A few cool drops to slake my parching throat.
+Fair emblem truly thou of those meek hearts
+That thread the humblest haunts of suffering earth
+With Christ-like charities, and keep their souls
+Pure and untaint, by Heavenly communings.
+
+                    [_She reseats herself, and contemplates the scene_.
+
+O this is beautiful! Here I could lie--
+Were earth a myth and all her trials nought--
+And dream soft nothings all a summer's day.
+In this fair glade were surely celebrate
+The nuptials of the year: and for her gift,
+Fair Flora, lightly loitering on the wing
+Of Zephyrus, tossed all her corbel out,
+Filling the air with bloom.
+                From yonder copse,
+With kindling eye and hasty step, emerged
+The gladsome Spring, with leafy honours crowned,
+His following a troop of skipping lambs:
+And o'er yon hill, blushing for joy, approached
+His happy bride, on billowy odours borne,
+And every painted wing in tendance bent.
+Procession beautiful! Yet she how fair!--
+The lovely Summer, in her robes of blue,
+Bedecked with every flower that Flora gave,--
+Sweet eglantine and meek anemone,
+Bright, nodding columbine and wood-star white,
+Blue violets, like her eyes, and pendant gems
+Of dielytra, topaz-tipped and gold,
+Fragrant arbutus, and hepatica,
+With thousands more. Her wreath, a coronet
+Of opening rose-buds twined with lady-fern;
+And over all, her bridal-veil of white,--
+Some soft diaph'nous cloudlet, that mistook
+Her robes of blue for heaven.--
+                And I could dream
+That, from his lofty throne beholding,
+Great Sol, on wings of glowing eve, came down
+In gracious haste, to bless the nuptials.
+(_She pauses_.) And shall this land,
+That breathes of poesy from every sod,
+Indignant throb beneath the heavy foot
+Of jeering renegade? at best a son
+His mother blushes for--shall he, bold rebel
+Entwine its glories in defiant wreath
+Above his boastful brow, and flaunt it in
+Her face, rejoicing in her woe? No! No!
+This priceless gem shall ever deck her crown,
+And grace its setting with a ray more pure
+For that, nor flood, nor fire, can flaw its heart.
+Yes, Canada, thy sons, at least, maintain
+The ancient honour of their British blood,
+In that their loyalty contracts no stain
+From proffered gifts or gold.
+But I must on. I may not loiter, while
+So much depends on me.
+
+(_She rises to proceed, and at the first step a rattlesnake rears up
+at her, hissing and springing its rattles. She recoils in fear, but
+remembering the cowardly nature of the creatures, throws sticks at it,
+and it glides swiftly away_.)
+
+                Vile reptile!
+Base as vile, and cowardly as base;
+A straight descendant thou of him, methinks,
+Man's ancient foe, or else his paraphrase.
+Is there no Eden that thou enviest not?
+No purity thou would'st not smirch with gall?
+No rest thou would'st not break with agony?
+Aye, Eve, our mother-tongue avenges thee,
+For there is nothing mean, or base, or vile,
+That is not comprehended in the name
+Of SNAKE!
+
+                                                   [_Exit_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+       *        *        *        *        *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 3--_A thick wood through which runs a forest path, leading to a
+high beech ridge_.
+
+_Enter_ MRS. SECORD, _walking as quickly as the underbrush will allow_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. How quiet are the woods!
+The choir of birds that daily ushers in
+The rosy dawn with bursts of melody,
+And swells the joyful train that waits upon
+The footsteps of the sun, is silent now,
+Dismissed to greenwood bowers. Save happy cheep
+Of callow nestling, that closer snugs beneath
+The soft and sheltering wing of doting love,--Like
+croon of sleeping babe on mother's breast--No
+sound is heard, but, peaceful, all enjoy
+Their sweet siesta on the waving bough,
+Fearless of ruthless wind, or gliding snake.
+So peaceful lies Fitzgibbon at his post,
+Nor dreams of harm. Meanwhile the foe
+Glides from his hole, and threads the darkling route,
+In hope to coil and crush him.
+Ah, little recks he that a woman holds
+The power to draw his fangs!
+And yet some harm must come, some blood must flow,
+In spite of all my poor endeavour.
+O War, how much I hate thy wizard arts,
+That, with the clash and din of brass and steel,
+O'erpowers the voice of pleading reason;
+And with thy lurid light, in monstrous rays
+Enfolds the symmetry of human love,
+Making a brother seem a phantom or a ghoul!
+Before thy deadly scowl kind peace retires,
+And seeks the upper skies.
+O, cruel are the hearts that cry "War!" "War!"
+As if War were an angel, not a fiend;
+His gilded chariot, a triumphal car,
+And not a Juggernauth whose wheels drop gore;
+His offerings, flowers and fruit, and chaplets gay,
+And not shrieks, tears, and groans of babes and women.
+And yet hath War, like Juggernauth, a hold,
+A fascination, for humanity,
+That makes his vot'ries martyrs for his sake.
+Even I, poor weakling, march in keeping-time
+To that grand music that I heard to-day,
+Though children played it, and I darkly feel
+Its burden is resistance physical.
+'Tis strange that simple tones should move one so!
+What is it, what, this sound, this air, this breath
+The wind can blow away,
+Nor most intricate fetters can enchain?
+What component of being doth it touch
+That it can raise the soul to ecstasy,
+Or plunge it in the lowest depth of horror?
+Freeze the stopt blood, or send it flowing on
+In pleasant waves?
+Can draw soft tears, or concentrate them hard
+To form a base whereon the martyr stands
+To take his leap to Heaven?
+What is this sound that, in Niagara's roar
+Brings us to Sinai;
+Or in the infant's prayer to Him, "Our Father?"
+That by a small inflection wakes the world,
+And sends its squadroned armies on
+To victory or death;
+Or bids it, peaceful, rest, and grow, and build?
+That reassures the frighted babe; or starts
+The calm philosopher, without a word?
+That, in the song of little bird speaks glee;
+Or in a groan strikes mortal agony?
+That, in the wind, brings us to shipwreck, death.
+And dark despair;
+Or paints us blessed islands far from care or pain?
+Then what is sound?
+The chord it vibrates with its magic touch
+Is not a sense to man peculiar,
+An independent string formed by that breath
+That, breathed into the image corporate,
+Made man a living soul.
+No, for all animate nature owns
+Its sovereign power. Brutes, birds, fish, reptiles, all
+That breathe, are awed or won by means of sound.
+Therefore, it must be of the corporate, corporeal
+And, if so, _why then the body lives again_,
+Despite what sceptics say; for sound it is
+Will summon us before that final bar
+To give account of deeds done in the flesh.
+The spirit cannot thus be summoned,
+Since entity it hath not sound can strike.
+Let sceptics rave! I see no difficulty
+That He, who from primordial atoms formed
+A human frame, can from the dust awake it
+Once again, marshal the scattered molecules
+And make immortal, as was Adam.
+This body lives! Or else no deep delight
+Of quiring angels harping golden strings;
+No voice of Him who calls His children home;
+No glorious joining in the immortal song
+Could touch our being
+                But how refined our state!
+How changed! Never to tire or grow distraught,
+Or wish for rest, or sleep, or quietude,
+But find in absence of these earthly needs
+A truer Heaven.
+                O might I rest even now!
+These feet grow painful, and the shadows tell
+Of night and dark approaching, my goal
+An anxious distance off.
+
+                                                    [_She gazes round_.
+
+                I'll rest awhile,
+For yonder height will tax my waning strength,
+And many a brier all beautiful with bloom
+Hides many a thorn that will dispute my path
+Beneath those ancient beeches.
+
+(_She seats herself, and having removed her bonnet, partakes of the
+refreshment brought from the mill. As she eats, a grieved look comes
+upon her face, and she wipes away a tear_.)
+
+The sun leans towards the west: O darlings mine,
+E'en now, perchance, ye sit in order round
+The evening board, your father at the head,
+And Polly in my place making his tea,
+While he pretends to eat, and cheats himself.
+And thou, O husband, dearest, might I lay
+My, weary head as oft upon thy breast!--
+But no (_she rises_), I dare not think--there is above
+A Love will guard me, and, O blessed thought,
+Thee, too, and they our darlings.
+
+      [_She proceeds towards the beech ridge, but is stayed at the foot
+        by a rapid-running stream_.
+
+Nor bridge, nor stone, nor log, how shall I cross?
+Yon o'erturned hemlock, whose wide-spreading root
+Stands like a wattled pier from which the bridge
+Springs all abrupt and strait, and hangs withal
+So high that hardihood itself looks blank--
+I scarce may tempt, worn as I am, and spent.
+And on the other bank, the great green head
+Presents a wilderness of tangled boughs
+By which would be a task, indeed, to reach
+The ground. Yet must I try. Poor hands, poor feet,
+This is rough work for you, and one small slip
+Would drop me in the stream, perchance to drown.
+Not drown! oh, no, my goal was set by Heaven.
+Come, rally all ye forces of the will,
+And aid me now! Yon height that looms above
+Is yet to gain before the sun gets low.
+
+  (_She climbs the hemlock root and reaches the trunk, across which she
+crawls on her hands and knees, and at last finds herself some yards up
+the beech ridge. After arranging her torn and dishevelled clothing she
+proceeds up the ridge, at the top of which she encounters a British
+sentry, who challenges_.)
+
+  _Sentry_. Who goes there?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. A friend.
+
+  _Sentry_. What friend?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. To Canada and Britain.
+
+  _Sentry_. Your name and errand.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. My name is Secord--Captain Secord's wife,
+Who fought at Queenston;--and my errand is
+To Beaver Dam to see Fitzgibbon,
+And warn him of a sortie from Fort George
+To move to-night. Five hundred men, with guns,
+And baggage-waggons for the spoil, are sent.
+For, with such force, the enemy is sure
+Our stores are theirs; and Stoney Creek avenged.
+
+  _Sentry_. Madam, how know you this?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I overheard
+Some Yankee soldiers, passing in and out
+With all a victor's license of our hearths,
+Talk of it yesternight, and in such wise
+No room for doubt remained. My husband wished
+To bear the news himself, but is disabled yet
+By those two wounds he got at Queenston Heights,
+And so the heavy task remained with me,
+Much to his grief.
+
+  _Sentry_. A heavy task indeed.
+How got you past their lines?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. By many wiles;
+Those various arts that times like these entail.
+
+  _Sentry_. And then how got you here?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I left my home
+At daybreak, and have walked through the deep woods
+The whole way since I left St. David's Mill.
+
+  _Sentry_. 'Tis past belief, did not your looks accord.
+And still you have a weary way to go,
+And through more woods. Could I but go with you,
+How gladly would I! Such deed as yours
+Deserves more thanks than I can give. Pass, friend,
+All's well.
+
+        [MRS. SECORD _passes the Sentry, who turns and walks with her_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. There's naught to fear, I hope, but natural foes,
+Lynxes or rattlesnakes, upon my way.
+
+  _Sentry_. There are some Mohawks ambushed in the wood,
+But where I cannot quite point out; they choose
+Their ground themselves, but they are friends, though rough,--
+Some of Kerr's band, Brant's son-in-law. You'll need
+To tell the chief your errand should you cross him.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Thanks: for I rather fear our red allies.
+Is there a piquet?
+
+  _Sentry_. No, not near me; our men are all too few--
+A link goes to and fro 'twixt me and quarters,
+And is but just now left (_he turns sharp about)_.
+            My limit this--
+Yonder your road (_he points to the woods)_.
+            God be wi' you. Good-bye.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Good-bye, my friend.
+
+                                                   [_Exit_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+  _Sentry_. A bold, courageous deed!
+A very woman, too, tender and timid.
+That country's safe whose women serve her cause
+With love like this. And blessed, too, it is,
+In having such for wives and mothers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 4.--_The forest, with the sun nearly below the horizon, its rays
+illuminate the tops of the trees, while all below is dark and gloomy.
+Bats are on the wing, the night-hawk careers above the trees, fire-flies
+flit about, and the death-bird calls_.
+
+_Enter_ MRS. SECORD, _showing signs of great fatigue_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Gloomy, indeed, and weird, and oh, so lone!
+In such a spot and hour the mind takes on
+Moody imaginings, the body shrinks as'twere,
+And all the being sinks into a sea
+Of deariness and doubt and death.
+
+                                [_The call of the death-bird is heard_.
+
+Thou little owl, that with despairing note
+Dost haunt these shades, art thou a spirit lost,
+Whose punishment it is to fright poor souls
+With fear of death?--if death is to be feared,
+And not a blank hereafter. The poor brave
+Who answers thee and hears no call respond,
+Trembles and pales, and wastes away and dies
+Within the year, thee making his fell arbiter.
+Poor Indian! Much I fear the very dread
+Engendered by the small neglectful bird,
+Brings on the fate thou look'st for.
+So fearless, yet so fearful, do we all,
+Savage and civil, ever prove ourselves;
+So strong, so weak, hurt by a transient sound,
+Yet bravely stalking up to meet the death
+We see.
+
+                          [_A prolonged howl is heard in the distance_.
+
+The wolves! the dreadful wolves! they've scented me.
+O whither shall I fly? no shelter near;
+No help. Alone! O God, alone!
+
+           [_She looks wildly round for a place to fly to. Another howl
+             is heard_.
+
+O Father! not this death, if I must die,
+My task undone, 'tis too, too horrible!
+
+      [_Another howl as of many wolves, but at a distance; she bends to
+        listen, her hand upon her heart_.
+
+Be still, wild heart, nor fill my list'ning ears
+With thy deep throbs.
+
+                 [_The howl of the wolves is again heard, but faintly_.
+
+Thank God, not me they seek!
+Some other scent allures the ghoulish horde.
+On, on, poor trembler! life for life it is,
+If I may warn Fitzgibbon.
+
+       [_She steps inadvertently into a little pool, hastily stoops and
+         drinks gladly_.
+
+Oh blessed water! To my parched tongue
+More precious than were each bright drop a gem
+From far Golconda's mine; how at thy touch
+The parting life comes back, and hope returns
+To cheer my drooping heart!
+
+(_She trips and falls, and instantly the Indian war-whoop resounds
+close at hand, and numbers of braves seem to spring from the ground, one
+of whom approaches her as she rises with his tomahawk raised_.)
+
+  _Indian_. Woman! what woman want?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord (leaping forward and seizing his arm)_. O chief,
+  no spy am I, but friend to you
+And all who love King George and wear his badge.
+All through this day I've walked the lonely woods
+To do you service. I have news, great news,
+To tell the officer at Beaver Dam.
+This very night the Long Knives leave Fort George
+To take him by surprise, in numbers more
+Than crows on ripening corn. O help me on!
+I'm Laura Secord, Captain Secord's wife,
+Of Queenstown; and Tecumseh, your great chief,
+And Tekoriogea are our friends.
+
+  _Chief_. White woman true and brave, I send with you
+Mishe-mo-qua, he know the way and sign,
+And bring you safe to mighty chief Fitzgibbon.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. O thanks, kind chief, and never shall your braves
+Want aught that I can give them.
+
+  _Chief (to another)_. Young chief, Mish-e-mo-qua, with woman go,
+And give her into care of big white chief.
+She carry news. Dam Long-Knife come in dark
+To eat him up.
+
+  _Mishe-mo-qua_. Ugh! rascal! dam!
+
+                              [_Exeunt_ MISHE-MO-QUA _and_ MRS. SECORD.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT III
+
+SCENE 1.--_Decau's house, a stone edifice of some pretensions. The
+parlour, with folding doors which now stand a little apart. A sentry is
+visible, on the other side of them. The parlour windows are barricaded
+within, but are set open, and a branch of a climbing rose with flowers
+upon it, swings in. The sun is setting, and gilds the arms that are
+piled in one corner of the room. A sword in its scabbard lies across the
+table, near which, in an arm-chair, reclines_ Lieutenant Fitzgibbon,
+_a tall man of fine presence; in his right hand, which rests
+negligently on the back of the chair, he holds a newspaper of four
+pages, "The Times," from which he has been reading. Several elderly
+weather-beaten non-commissioned officers and privates, belonging to the
+49th, 104th, and 8th regiments, together with a few militiamen and two
+cadets share the society of their superior officer, and all are very
+much at their ease both in appointments and manner, belts and stocks are
+unloosed, and some of the men are smoking_.
+
+  _Lieut. Fitzgibbon_. 'Tis true, it seems, and yet most horrible;
+More than five hundred thousand fighting men
+Crossed with him o'er the front, and not a tenth
+Remains. Rather than let him find a place
+For winter quarters, two hundred thousand
+Happy families had to forsake their homes
+In dead of winter, and of the ancient seat
+Of Russian splendour, Rotopschin made a pyre,
+A blazing pyre of all its precious things:
+Moscow is burned.
+
+  _First Sergeant_. So Boney could but toast his freezing toes
+And march back home again: Fine glory that!
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Sad waste of precious lives for one man's will.
+But this mishap will seal his fate. The Czar
+Will see his interest is a strong alliance,
+And all the Powers will prove too great a match,
+Even for Buonaparte.
+
+  _Second Sergeant_. Where is he now, Lieutenant?
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. In Paris, plotting again, I see; or was
+Nine weeks ago.
+
+  _First Private_. Yon news coom quick.
+Now when I were a bairn, that's forty year sin',
+We heard i' York 'at Merriky refused
+To pay the taxes, just three munth's arter;
+An' that wur bonnie toime, fur then t'coaach
+Tuk but foive daaies ti mak' t' hull waai' doon,
+Two hunner moile, fra Lunnon.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon (still scanning the newspaper)_.
+Well, Jimmy, here's a man, one Bell,
+Of Greenock, can send a boat by steam
+Against the wind and tide, and talks with hope
+Of making speed equal to both.
+He's tried it on the Clyde, so we may look
+For news from England in a month, ere long.
+
+  _First Private_. Na, na, sir; noo doant 'e pooak fun at me!
+Iver he doos ma' I go hang. Why neist
+They scatterbrain 'ull mayhap send a shep
+Jest whear tha' loike wi'oot a win' at all.
+Or promise till 't. 'Twere pity Nelson, noo,
+He'd noan o' sech at Copenhaagen
+Mebbe tha' cu'd ha' gott tha' grunded sheps
+Afloat, an gett moor men to fe'ht them Daans.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. The fewer men the greater glory, Jim.
+Why, man, he got his title by that fight.
+
+  _Second Sergeant_. And well deserved it! A finer man
+Never trod deck, sailor or officer;
+His voice gave courage, as his eye flashed fire.
+We would have died for him, and he for us;
+And when the fight was done he got our rights,
+Or tried at it. More than old Parker did.
+
+  _First Sergeant_. Parker was rich, and so forgot the poor,
+But Nelson forgot none.
+
+  _Second Private_. He was cliver, too. Dash't! how I laughed,
+All i' my sleeve o' course. The fight was hot,
+And getting hotter, for, gad, them Danes can fight!
+And quite a quarter o' the ships was stuck,
+The Admiral's among 'em. So Nelson held
+The squadron at command. Up comes the word,
+"The signal Thirty-nine is out, sir." Nelson turns,
+His stump a-goin' as his arm was used
+Afore he lost it, meets the officer, as says,
+"Sir, Thirty-nine is out, shall I repeat it?"
+"No, sir; acknowledge it." Then on he goes.
+Presently he calls out, "What's flying now?"
+"The same, sir." So he takes his glass
+And puts it to his eye, his blind eye, mind you,
+An' says he, "No signal can I see. No,
+Ne'er a one." Winking to Ferguson, says he,
+"I've but one eye, and may be blind sometimes.
+What! strike off now and lose the day? Not so:
+My signal keep for 'Closer battle,' flying.
+That's how I'll answer. Confound the signal!
+Nail mine to the mast." He won.
+
+  _First Militiaman_. Just touch and go for hanging, that.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Success ne'er saw a scaffold, Jeremy.
+
+  _A Cadet_. Fine-looking fellow Nelson-was, I guess?
+
+  _First Sergeant_. To look at? No, a little, thin, pale man
+With a long queue, one arm, and but one eye,
+But that a blazer!
+
+  _Second Militiaman_. These little uns has lots o' spunk:
+Boney's a little un, I've heerd.
+
+  _First Private_. Just so: and Wellington ain't big.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon (rising and drawing himself to his full height)_.
+Come, boys, you're getting personal. See me!
+If none but little men may win renown,
+I hope I'm two in one, for your sakes.
+And you forget the lion-hearted Brock.
+
+  _All (interrupting him)_. No! no! no!
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. A man of height exceeding any here,
+And yet whose alt of metred inches
+Nobly enlarged to full, fair, Saxon mould,
+And vested in the blazonments of rule,
+Shewed not so kingly to the obeisant sight
+As was his soul. Who than ye better knew
+His bravery; his lofty heroism;
+His purity, and great unselfish heart?
+Nature in him betrayed no niggard touch
+Of corporate or ethereal. Yet I yield
+That men of lesser mould in outward form
+Have been as great in deeds of rich renown.
+But then, I take it, greatness lies not in
+The flesh, but in the spirit. He is great
+Who from the quick occasion of the time
+Strikes out a name. And he is also great
+Who, in a life-long struggle, throws the foe,
+And binds on hoary locks the laurel crown.
+Each is a high exemplar.
+One with concentrate vigour strikes a blow
+That rings around the world; the other draws
+The world round him--his mighty throes
+And well-contested standpoints win its praise
+And force its verdict, though bleak indifference--
+A laggard umpire--long neglect his post,
+And often leaves the wrestler's best unnoted,
+Coming but just in time to mark his thews
+And training, and so decides: while the loud shock
+Of unexpected prowess starts him aghast,
+And from his careless hand snatches the proud award.
+But mark me, men, he who is ever great
+Has greatness made his aim--
+The sudden blow or long-protracted strife
+Yields not its secret to the untrained hand.
+True, one may cast his statue at a heat,
+But yet the mould was there;
+And he who chips the marble, bit by bit,
+Into a noble form, sees all the while
+His image in the block.
+There are who make a phantom of their aim--
+See it now here, now there, in this, in that,
+But never in the line of simple duty;
+Such will accomplish nothing but their shame:
+For greatness never leaves that thin, straight mark;
+And, just as the pursuit diverges from it,
+Greatness evanishes, and notoriety
+Misleads the suitor. I'd have you think of this.
+
+  _All_. Aye, aye, sir.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Order the lights, for darkness falls apace,
+And I must write.
+
+                                                 [_Exit_ First Private.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon (cutting the newspaper and handing the halves to
+the sergeants)_. There, read to the rest, and let me have them
+back when done with.
+
+_Enter a_ Soldier _with lights_.
+
+               [_A voice is heard in the next room, beginning to sing_.
+
+Who's that?
+
+  _First Private_. It's Roaring Bill, sir; shall I stop him?
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. No; let him sing.
+It cheers our loneliness, and does us good.
+
+  _First Sergeant_. Another of his own, I guess; homespun
+And rough, like country cloth.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Hush! what is that he says?
+
+                     [_A_ Cadet _gently pushes one of the folding doors
+                       a little wider open_.
+
+  _Roaring Bill_. 'Tis but a doleful ditty, boys,
+With ne'er a chorus; yet I'll be bound
+You'll hardly quarrel with it.
+
+  _A Comrade_. Let's have it, Bill; we ain't red Injuns,
+As likes palaver.
+
+  _Roaring Bill_--
+
+SONG.
+
+  October blasts had strown the wreaths that erstwhile hung so gay,
+  Above the brows of Queenston Heights where we impatient lay;
+  Niagara fretted at our feet, as chafing at his post,
+  And impotence to turn the fleets that bore the aggressive host.
+
+  And gray the dawn and cold the morn of Rensselaer's attack,
+  But warm and true the hearts, though few, that leapt to beat him back.
+  "On, Forth-ninth! On, volunteers! Give tongue, ye batteries twain!"
+  Bold Dennis spake: the guns boomed forth, and down he rushed amain.
+
+  They sink! They fly! They drop down stream.--Ah, too delusive sight!
+  A long-abandoned path they find, and gain the wooded height.
+  The batteries now must guard the shore--above, our struggle lies;
+  But down they pour, like surging flood, that skill and strength defies.
+
+  Down, down, they press us, inch by inch, beyond the village bound,
+  And there, o'erwhelmed, but not o'ercome, we keep our sullen ground.
+  Short time we stand. A ringing cheer proclaims our hero nigh;
+  Our darling leader, noble Brock--hark to his gallant cry!
+
+  "Follow me, boys!" the hero cries. We double to the wall--
+  Waving his gleaming sword on high, he climbs, and follow all;
+  Impetuous up the mountain side he strides in warlike glee,
+  All heedless of the leaden hail that whistles from each tree:
+
+  For on and up proud Victory lures--we touch her laurel crown--
+  When by malign, deliberate aim the hero's stricken down.
+  He falls! We fire, but ah, too late--the murderous work is done.
+  No more that voice shall cheer us on, with "Vict'ry!" in its tone.
+
+  He falls: nor word nor look may cheer young Jarvis' anxious quest;
+  Among his stricken men he sinks, his hand but seeks his breast.
+  O, Death, could none but him suffice thy cold, insatiate eye?
+  Nor knewed'st thou how many there for him would gladly die!
+
+  Nor lonely speeds the parting soul, nor lonely stands the bier--
+  Two forms the bastion-tomb enfolds, two claim the soldier's tear.
+  "Avenge the General!" was the cry. "AVENGE!" McDonell cries,
+  And, leading madly up the Height, McDonell falls and dies.
+
+
+                [_Several of the men pass their hands over their eyes;_
+                  MR. JARVIS _goes to the open window, as if to observe
+                  something without_.
+
+  _An 8th man_. A mournful ditty to a mournful tune,
+Yet not unworthy of the heroic theme,
+Nor of a soldier's heart.
+
+  _Mr. Jarvis (in a low voice)_. Indeed, you're right.
+I thank the singer for his memories,
+Though sad to me, who caught Brock's latest breath.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. I did not think there had been such a stroke
+Of genius in the lad. (_Another voice_.) But who's this, now?
+
+  _Second Cadet_. It's young Jack Kelley, sir; he has a voice,
+And emulates old Bill.
+
+  _Jack Kelley_ (_with the airs of an amateur_.) Ugh! ugh! I'm
+    hoarse.
+Now mind the coal-box, byes, and sing it up.
+"The Jolly Midshipman's" the tune.
+
+SONG.
+
+
+I.
+
+  It was a bold Canadian boy
+    That loved a winsome girl;
+  And he was bold as ancient knight,
+    She, fair as day's own pearl.
+  And to the greenwood they must go,
+    To build a home and name,
+  So he clasped hands with Industry,
+    For fortune, wealth and fame.
+
+CHORUS
+
+(In which all join, the leader beating time upon his knees with his
+fists.)
+
+    For fortune, wealth and fame,
+    For fortune, wealth and fame;
+  So he clasped hands with Industry,
+    For fortune, wealth and fame.
+
+
+II.
+
+  And when the jocund Spring came in,
+    He crowned the wedded pair.
+  And sent them forth with hearts elate
+    Their wildwood home to share.
+  For he had built a snug log-house,
+    Beneath a maple tree;
+  And his axe had cleared a wide domain,
+   While store of goods spun she.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    While store of goods spun she,
+    While store of goods spun she,
+  And his axe had cleared a wide domain,
+    While store of goods spun she.
+
+
+III.
+
+  The husband whistles at his plough,
+    The wife sings at her wheel,
+  The children wind the shrilly horn
+    That tells the ready meal.
+  And should you roam the wide world o'er,
+    No happier home you'll see,
+  Than this abode of loving toil
+    Beneath the maple tree.
+
+CHORUS.
+
+    Beneath the maple tree,
+    Beneath the maple tree,
+  Than this abode of loving toil
+    Beneath the maple tree.
+
+  _A 49th man_. Hurrah, Jack! that's a good tune,
+Let's have the chorus again.
+
+  _All_--
+    Beneath the maple tree,
+    Beneath the maple tree,
+  Than this abode of lov--
+
+                 [_The_ Sentry _challenges, and a_ Corporal _enters and
+                   salutes_ FITZGIBBON.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Well, Corporal.
+
+  _Corporal_. Sir, here is Mishe-mo-qua and a woman.
+They say they've news, and wish to speak with you.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Then, Corporal, show them in.
+
+                                                      [_Exit_ Corporal.
+
+_Enter_ MRS. SECORD _and the_ Indian Chief, _who salutes_ LIEUT.
+FITZGIBBON.
+
+  _Several Militiamen_ (_in surprise, aside to each other_.) 'Tis Mrs.
+      Secord, Captain Secord's wife;
+What can her errand be? So tired, too,
+          And in rags.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_ (_courtesying_). You are the Captain, sir?
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. At your service.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I bring you news of great importance, sir.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. I am indebted, madam, for what I see
+Has been no common task. Be seated, pray.
+
+                                             [_A Cadet places a chair_.
+
+Chief, will you also rest?
+
+                                               [_He indicates a couch_.
+
+  _Mishe-mo-qua_. No. Woman, she
+Come far, to tell white chief great words.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_.  I thank her much.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I came to say that General Dearborn tires.
+Of his inaction, and the narrow space
+Around his works, he therefore purposes
+To fall upon your outpost here, to-night,
+With an o'erwhelming force, and take your stores:
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_.  Madam!
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Five hundred men, with some dragoons and guns,
+Start e'en to-night, soon as the moon goes down;
+Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler in command.
+A train of waggons, too, is sent for spoil.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. And may I ask on what authority
+To trust such startling news? I know you not.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. My name is Secord, I'm Captain Secord's wife,
+Who fought at Queenston Heights, and there received
+The wounds that leave him now a helpless cripple.
+Some here may know him.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. I remember now.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. We live within the Yankee lines, and hence
+By victor's right our home is free to them.
+Last night a sergeant and his new-changed guard
+Came in and asked for supper; a boy and girl
+I left to wait on them, seeing the table set
+With all supplies myself, and then retired.
+But such their confidence; their talk so loud
+And free, I could not help but hear some words
+That raised suspicion; then I listened close
+And heard, 'mid gibe and jest, the enterprise
+That was to flout us; make the Loyalist
+A cringing slave to sneering rebels; make
+The British lion gnash his teeth with rage;--
+The Yankee, hand-on-hip, guffawing loud
+The while. At once, my British blood was up,
+Nor had I borne their hated presence more,
+But for the deeper cause. My husband judged
+As I did, but his helpless frame forbade
+His active interference, so I came,
+For well we knew your risk, warning denied.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Alone? You surely did not come alone?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Sir, I have walked the whole way through the woods,
+For fear of spies, braving all other foes.
+Nor, since at early morn I left St. David's Mill,
+Until I met your sentry on the ridge,--
+Who begged me tell you so, and said "all's well,"--
+Spoke I, or saw, a soul. Since then, the chief,
+Whose senior sent him with me for a guide,
+Has been my kind protector to your post.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon (to the chief_). I thank you, Mishe-mo-qua, and your chief.
+
+  (_To Mrs. Secord, bowing_.) But you, oh; madam, how shall I thank you?
+You have, indeed, performed a woman's part,
+A gentle deed; yet at expense of more
+Than woman's fitting means. I am not schooled
+In courtly phrases, yet may I undertake
+To thank you heartily, not on our part
+Alone, but in our good King George's name,
+For act so kind achieved. Knew he your care
+For his brave men--I speak for those around--
+Of whom some fought for him at Copenhagen,
+He would convey his thanks, and the Queen's, too--
+Who loves all nobleness--in better terms
+Than I, his humble servant. Affliction
+Leaves him in our hands to do him justice;
+And justice 'tis, alike to him and you,
+To thank you in his name, and in the Regent's.
+
+  _The Soldiers_. Hurray! hurray! hurray!
+
+                                            [_They toss up their caps_.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Sir, you make quite too much of my poor service,
+I have but done my duty; and I beg
+Let me not interrupt your movements now:
+I would not be an obstacle across
+The path I made.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. You add an obligation, madam.
+
+                     [_At a signal the men from the next room file in_.
+
+  (_To the men_.) We've hot work coming, boys. Our good friend here
+Has walked from Queenston, through the woods, this day,
+To warn me that a sortie from Fort George
+Is sent to take this post, and starts e'en now.
+You, Cummings, mount--you know the way--and ride
+With all your might, to tell De Haren this;
+He lies at Twelve-Mile Creek with larger force
+Than mine, and will move up to my support:
+He'll see my handful cannot keep at bay
+Five hundred men, or fight in open field.
+But what strength can't accomplish cunning must--
+I'll have to circumvent them.
+
+                                                      [_Exit_ CUMMINGS.
+
+  (_To Mishe-mo-qua_.) And you, chief,
+What will you do? You've stood by me so long,
+So faithfully, I count upon you now.
+
+  _Mishe-mo-qua_. White chief say true: we good King George's men.
+My warriors yell! hide! shoot! hot bullet fly
+Like dart of Annee-meekee.
+We keep dam Long-Knife back. I go just now.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon (handing the chief a twist of tobacco, which he puts
+into his girdle with a grunt of satisfaction)_. A Mohawk is my
+friend, and you are one.
+
+ [FITZGIBBON _shakes hands with the_ Chief, _who retires well pleased_.
+
+  (_To Mrs. Secord_.) Madam, how may I serve you to secure
+Your safety? Refreshment comes; but here
+Is no protection in our present strait.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I thank you, sir, but will not tax you more
+Than some refreshment. I have friends beyond
+A mile or two, with whom I'll stay to-night.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. I'll spare an escort; Mr. Jarvis here will--
+
+                                                 [MRS. SECORD _faints_.
+
+Poor soul! poor soul! she is exhaust indeed.
+
+(_The men run out and bring water_, Fitzgibbon _gets brandy from
+a buffet, and_ Mr. Jarvis _unloosens her bonnet and collar. They
+bathe her hands with the spirit and sprinkle her face with the water,
+and at last_ MRS. SECORD _sighs heavily_.)
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. She's coming to. Back, men; give her more air.
+
+(MR. JARVIS _and another_ Cadet _support_ MRS. SECORD, _while_ LIEUT.
+FITZGIBBON _offers her coffee, into which he has poured a little brandy,
+feeding her with the spoon_.)
+
+  _An 8th man (aside_). She'll never walk to reach her friends to-night.
+
+  _A 49th man (to a comrade_). Jack, thou an' me can do't.
+        'Tyent the fust time
+We've swung a faintin' comrade 'twixt us two;
+An' her's just like a babby. Fatch a pole
+An' blanket, an' we'll carry her.
+
+  _A Sergeant_. You'll then be in the rear, for we're to move.
+
+  _Second 49th man_. We'll catch ye oop a foight'n'; its summat wuth
+To await o' sech as she.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon (to Mrs. Secord_). Are you better now?
+
+  _Mrs. Secord (trying to stand_). I think I am. Oh, sir, I'm losing you
+The time I tried to save! Pray leave me--
+I shall be better soon, and I can find my way.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Nay, be not anxious; we are quite prepared.
+Sheathed though our claws may be, they're always sharp.
+Pray drink again, nor fear the potent touch
+That snatches back the life when the spent heart,
+Oppressed by cruel tasks, as yours, can scarcely beat.
+
+              [MRS. SECORD _drinks the coffee, and again rises, but can
+               scarcely stand_.
+
+  _49th man (saluting_). Sir, me an' Bill has here a hammock ready,
+An' volunteers to see the lady safe.
+Among her friends.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. But I can walk.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Madam, you cannot. Let these carry you;
+An honour I do grudge them. I shall move
+With better heart knowing you cared for.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. I'll go at once--
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Men, bring your hammock hither.
+
+(_The hammock is brought, and_ MRS. SECORD _is assisted into it
+by_ LIEUT. FITZGIBBON, _who wraps a blanket round her. The men fall
+into line, and salute as she passes. At the door she offers her hand
+to_ FITZGIBBON.)
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. Farewell, sir. My best thanks for all your goodness,
+Your hospitality, and this, your escort;
+You do me too much honour.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Should we not
+Show our respect for one has done so much
+For us? We are your debtors, madam.
+
+       [_He points to the sky, set thick with brilliant stars, the moon
+         having already set_.
+
+See how the eyes of heaven look down on you,
+And smile, in gentle approbation
+Of a most gentle deed. I pray they light
+You safely to your friends.
+
+  _Mrs. Secord_. And you to victory, sir. Farewell.
+
+                                                    [FITZGIBBON _bows_.
+
+                                [_Exeunt_ MRS. SECORD _and her escort_.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon (to the men who have crowded round the door, and
+are awaiting orders_). Men, never forget this woman's noble deed.
+Armed, and in company, inspirited
+By crash of martial music, soldiers march
+To duty; but she, alone, defenceless,
+With no support but kind humanity
+And burning patriotism, ran all our risks
+Of hurt, and bloody death, to serve us men,
+Strangers to her save by quick war-time ties.
+Therefore, in grateful memory and kind return,
+Ever treat women well.
+
+  _Men_. Aye, aye, sir.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Now, then, for action. I need not say,
+Men, do your duty. The hearts that sprung
+To follow Nelson; Brock; have never failed.
+I'm proud, my men, to be your leader now.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 2.--_Morning twilight. A little wayside tavern at a cross-road_.
+
+_Enter_ FITZGIBBON, _reconnoitring_.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. They must be pretty near by this time,
+If they are come at all.
+
+  (_Two American soldiers of the advanced guard rush out of the tavern
+and present their rifles_. FITZGIBBON _springs on them, and,
+seizing each man's weapon, crosses them in front of himself_.)
+
+Not yet, my friends.
+
+          [_They struggle, and one of the Americans draws_ FITZGIBBON'S
+           _sword and is about to plunge it in his shoulder_.
+
+_Enter a woman, the_ tavern-keeper.
+
+  _Woman_. Ye Yankee rogue! ye coward!
+
+           [_She snatches the sword, and runs into the tavern with it_.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Take that! and that!
+
+          [_He trips up one man, and knocks the other down, putting his
+            foot on the man's breast_.
+
+Now, give me up your arms.
+
+                                            [_They give up their arms_.
+
+_Enter_ FITZGIBBON'S _command_.
+
+Here, Sergeant, march them in and set a guard.
+
+                  [_They are marched into the tavern. Shots are heard_.
+
+  _Fitsgibbon_. They're come! Quick--march, my lads.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 3.--_The beech ridge. Frequent firing. The Indian war-whoop.
+Bugles sounding the advance_.
+
+_Enter_ LIEUT. FITZGIBBON _and_ COL. THOMAS CLARKE.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. The Mohawks have done well; and I am glad
+To have your help, sir, too. What is your strength?
+
+  _Clarke_. But twenty, sir, all told.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. And I but thirty. Too few to fight such force
+In open field. But Boerstler's lost his head:
+Deluded by our calls, your fierce attack,
+And Indian fighting--which to them has ghosts
+Of their own raising--scalps, treachery, what not.
+There is our chance: I mean to summon him
+To a surrender.
+
+  _Clarke (in great surprise)_. Sir!
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. 'Tis a bold stroke, I grant, and if it fail
+Why then I'll fight it out. Keep up the scare
+Some moments longer, and we'll see.
+
+  _Clarke_. Good luck betide so brave a word;
+I'll do my best.
+
+                                                   [_Exit_ COL. CLARKE.
+
+_Enter the American force in some confusion_.
+
+(FITZGIBBON _sends forward a flag of truce; the bugles sound "Cease
+firing;" an officer advances from the American lines and_ FITZGIBBON
+_goes forward to meet him_.)
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Sir, with my compliments to your commander,
+I am the leader of this large detachment,
+Backed closely up by reinforcements
+Larger still. Indians, our good allies,
+Swarm in the woods around; and in your rear
+A strong militia force awaits my orders:
+Therefore, sir, to save a useless loss
+Of brave men's lives, I offer you fair terms
+Of full surrender.
+
+  _American officer_. I will report, sir,
+To Colonel Boerstler.
+
+                                                               [_Exit_.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_ (_aside)_. And I will pray.
+For after all in God's hand lies the day:
+I've done the best I know.
+
+_Enter the American officer and an orderly_.
+
+  _American officer_. Sir, with respect, our colonel bids me say
+That, seeing fate and fortune both unite
+To mar success, he'll rather save his men
+By fair surrender, than waste their lives
+In useless struggle. He commissions me
+To act in drawing up the terms.
+I am McDowell, captain of a troop.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_ (_bowing)_. Your humble servant, sir. We'll try to please
+Your colonel; rejoicing we have met a foe
+Who knows the bravery of discretion.
+
+_Enter_ COL. CLARKE, CAPT. KERR, _of the Indian contingent, and_
+MISHE-MO-QUA.
+
+  (_The British officers consult, and then invite_ CAPT. MCDOWELL
+_to join them. A drum is brought, Major De Haren produces writing
+materials; and terms of capitulation are drawn up, which are read to_
+CAPT. MCDOWELL.)
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Our terms we make as light as possible:
+I hope you'll find them so, sir.
+
+  _Capt. McDowell_ (_after reading_). Terms generous and honourable sir;
+I thank you. A noble foe is always half a friend.
+I'll carry them to Colonel Boerstler,
+With your consent.
+
+                                                    [FITZGIBBON _bows_.
+
+                                                [_Exit_ CAPT. MCDOWELL.
+
+_Enter_ MAJOR DE HAREN, _who hastens to greet_ LIEUT. FITZGIBBON.
+
+  _Major De Haren_. Why, what is this, Fitzgibbon, that I hear?
+That with your little handful you have caught
+Five hundred enemy? A very elephant!
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. A strait like mine required some strategy.
+
+  _De Haren_. My dear, brave fellow, you have surely won
+The golden epaulettes! How glad I am
+I was not here before. Such tact! such skill!
+You are a soldier born. But who comes hither?
+
+_Enter_ COL. BOERSTLER, CAPT. MCDOWELL _and other American officers_.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. These are the officers to sign our terms.
+
+                                  [_The officers on both sides salute_.
+
+  _Boerstler_ (_to Fitzgibbon_). I thank you, sir, for honourable terms,
+For vain it was to cope with force like yours.
+But ne'er I thought to put my hand to such
+A document.
+
+                                                [_He takes up the pen_.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Fortune of war, sir, that we all may meet.
+
+          [_Each officer signs the document in his order_; MISHE-MO-QUA
+           _draws his totem--a bear--as his signature_.
+
+  _De Haren_ (_to Col. Boerstler_). Will you proceed on the third article?
+
+  _Boerstler_ (_to Capt. McDowell_). Give you the order.
+
+                                                [_Exit_ CAPT. MCDOWELL.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_ (_to his men, who are drawn up across the road--
+      De Haren's command forming their right and left wings_).
+      Forward--ten paces.
+
+       [_Enter by companies the American force, who lay down their arms
+         in front of the British officers and defile to the rear_.
+
+  _De Haren_ (_to Fitzgibbon_). A glorious day for you, Fitzgibbon;
+For this fair Canada, and British arms.
+
+  _Fitzgibbon_. Yes, thanks to a brave woman's glorious deed.
+
+                                                             [_Exeunt_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+POEMS
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A BALLAD OF 1812.
+
+
+Now hush the martial trumpet's blare,
+  And tune the softer lyre;
+Nor shrink lest gentler tones should lack
+  The high, heroic fire:
+
+For many a valiant deed is done,
+  And great achievement wrought,
+Whose inspiration knows no source
+  Save pure and holy thought.
+
+Nor think some lofty pedestal,
+  Proud-lifted towards the skies,
+The only plane where Worth can wrest
+  From Fame her highest prize:
+
+For many a nameless nook and lone,
+  And many a tongueless hour,
+Sees deeds performed whose glories shame
+  The pride of pomp and power.
+
+Nor dream that to a noble deed
+  It needs a noble name;
+Or that to mighty act achieved
+  Must link a stalwart frame:
+
+For strung by Duty's steady hand,
+  And thrilled by Love's warm touch,
+Slight forms and simple names may serve
+  At need, to avail for much.
+
+Then lay the blaring trumpet by,
+  And tune the softer lyre
+To songs of Woman's chivalry,
+  Of Woman's patriot fire.
+
+
+I.
+
+O heard ye not of Queenston Heights,--
+  Of Brock who fighting fell,--
+And of the Forty-ninth and York,
+  Who 'venged their hero well?--
+
+And of the gallant stand they made--
+  What prowess kept at bay
+The swelling foe, till Sheaffe appeared,
+  And won the glorious day!
+
+Yet heard ye how--ban of success--
+  Irresolution ruled,
+Till all our green peninsula
+  And border-land, were schooled
+
+To bear, nathless all frowningly,
+  The yoke of alien power,
+And wait in patience, as they might,
+  The dawn of happier hour.
+
+Till Forty-mile, and Stony Creek,
+  Revived our waning hopes,
+And round Fort-George a limit held
+  The Yankees as with ropes.
+
+Yet, as do cordons oft enclose
+  The unwilling with the fain,
+Our people, by forced parole held,
+  Could naught but own the rein.
+
+Then heard ye how a little post.
+  Some twenty miles away,
+A check upon proud Dearborn's hopes,
+  Was fixed upon for prey?
+
+And how lest Britain's bull-dog pluck,
+  Roused by their isolation,
+Should make these few, brave, lonely men,
+  Fight as in desperation,
+
+And prove a match for thrice their odds,
+  They made them three times three,
+And thrice of that, with guns to boot,
+  To insure a victory?
+
+Then they would take the Night along
+  --No mean ally with odds,
+As Stony Creek can testify:
+  But then she marched with gods!--
+
+Yet blame ye not the silent Night
+  That she was forced to go,
+For oft have captives been compelled
+  To serve the hated foe:
+
+And oft with grave and quiet mien,
+  And Samson-like intent,
+Have brought about such ends, as by
+  Their lords were never meant.
+
+Then blame ye not the dark-eyed Night,
+  Of grave and silent mien;
+Her whisper 'twas that foiled the foe,
+  And fired our patriot queen.
+
+
+II.
+
+"And why, my husband, why so pale?"
+  'Twas Laura Secord spoke;
+And when she heard his plaintive tale,
+  Then all the patriot woke.
+
+"Thou knowest how Fitzgibbon holds
+  The post at Beaver Dams,
+And Dearborn frets, and fumes, and chafes,
+  And calls us British shams:
+
+"Because we will not, willing, give,
+  To feed an alien foe,
+The substance, all too poor and sparse,
+  Our stinted fields may grow.
+
+"So when the Night puts on her robes
+  Of sad and sable hue,
+A host he sends, of shameful strength,
+ To oust that noble few.
+
+"And who shall warn Fitzgibbon? Who?
+  My weakness is my bale;
+At such an hour of pressing need,
+  O that my aid should fail!
+
+"And yet, my country, if my blood,
+  Drawn from me drop by drop,
+Could save thee in this awful strait,
+  'Twere thine,'twere thine, to stop
+
+"This massacre, this horrid crime,
+  To baulk this wicked plot!
+My parole given!--by Heaven I could--
+  I Would--regard it not.
+
+"But here am I, a cripple weak;
+  Great Heaven! and must they fall
+Because I, wretched I alone,
+  Know what will sure befall!"
+
+"Calm thee, my husband, calm thee now.
+  Heaven ne'er points out a deed,
+But to the creature by whose means
+  Its action is decreed:
+
+"Thou, had'st thou not been sick and lame,
+  Would'st ne'er have learned this plot,
+And had'st thou strength thou could'st not pass
+  The lines, and not be shot.
+
+"Wherefore,'tis plain, 'tis not to thee
+  The careful task is given;
+'Tis rather me; and I will go,
+  Safe in the care of Heaven."
+
+"Thou go, dear wife! a woman soft,
+  And not too brave to shake
+At sight of wolf or catamount,
+  Or many-rattled snake:
+
+"Thou go!" "Nay, smile not, I will go;
+  Fitzgibbon shall not fall
+Unwarned at least; and Heaven will guard
+  Its messenger-in-thrall."
+
+
+III.
+
+Scarce had Aurora backward drawn
+  The curtains of the night,
+Scarce had her choristers awaked
+  The echoes with delight;
+
+When Laura Secord left her home,
+  With holy message fraught,
+And lone Fitzgibbon's distant post
+  With hasty footsteps sought.
+
+She chides the harsh-tongued sentinel
+  Whose musket stops her way,
+And hies her from his curious sight
+  In such sort as she may.
+
+A second bars her forward path,
+  Nor will he be content;
+And all her woman's wit she needs
+  Before his doubts are spent.
+
+Beyond, a third the challenge gives;--
+  She almost gasps for breath--
+"Oh, at the Mill my brother lies
+  Just at the point of death."
+
+But he nor cares for death nor life:
+  Yet when she kneels and weeps,
+He yields: for--in his rugged heart
+  A tender memory sleeps.
+
+With beating heart and trembling limb,
+  Swift hastes she; yet in ruth
+That even for her country's sake,
+  She needs must veil the truth.
+
+And when a rise of ground permits
+  A last, fond, lingering look,
+She, tearful, views her home once more--
+  A lowly, leafy nook.
+
+For there her sleeping children lie
+  Unconscious of her woe;
+Her choking sobs may not be stayed,
+  For oh, she loves them so!
+
+And there she leaves her maiden choice,
+  Her husband, lover, friend.
+Oh, were she woman could she less
+  To homely sorrows lend!
+
+On altar of the public weal
+  Must private griefs expire,--
+Her tender grief exhaled to Heaven
+  On wings of patriot fire.
+
+The dew still glistened on the grass,
+  The morning breezes swung
+The honeysuckle and the rose,
+  Above, whose sweetness hung.
+
+The fritil' butterfly, the bee,
+  Whose early labours cheer,
+And point the happy industry
+  That marks the opening year.
+
+The cheerful robin's sturdy note,
+  The gay canary's trill,
+Blent with the low of new-milked kine
+  That sauntered by the rill:
+
+When Laura Secord stood beside
+  The doomed St. David's door,
+Whose portals never closed upon
+  The weary or the poor.
+
+"O sister," cries the widowed dame,
+  "What trouble brings you here?
+Doth Jamie ail? Hath aught arisen
+  To mar your fettered cheer?"
+
+"Nor aileth any at the farm,
+  Nor is our cheer less free,
+But I must haste to Beaver Dam,
+  Fitzgibbon there to see.
+
+"For many a foe this coming night,
+  To take him by surprise,
+Is detailed, and he must be warned
+  Before the moon doth rise."
+
+O pallid grew the gentle dame,
+  And tremulous her tone,
+As Laura Secord, at the board,
+  Made all her errand known.
+
+And oft her pallor turned to red,
+  By indignation fired;
+And oft her red to pallor turned,
+  For Laura's sake retired.
+
+And many a cogent argument
+  She used, of duteous wives;
+And many more that mothers thus
+  Should never risk their lives.
+
+And of the dangers of the way
+  She told a trembling tale;
+But to divert a settled mind
+  Nor words nor woes avail.
+
+And many a tear she let down fall,
+  And some dropt Laura too,--
+But "'Tis my country!" yet she cried,
+  "My country may not rue."
+
+A tender leave she gently takes
+  Of him all wounded laid
+Upon his weary couch of pain,
+  But hides her errand sad.
+
+And then, while yet the day was young,
+  The sun scarce quarter high,
+She plunges 'mid the sheltering bush,
+  In fear of hue and cry,--
+
+Of hue and cry of cruel foes
+  Who yet might learn her route,
+And mad with rage of baffled aim,
+  Should spring in hot pursuit.
+
+On, on she speeds through bush and brake,
+  O'er log and stone and briar;
+On, on, for many a lengthening mile
+  Might stouter footsteps tire.
+
+The hot sun mounts the upper skies,
+  Faint grows the fervid air,
+And wearied nature asks for rest
+  Mid scenes so soft and fair.
+
+The sward all decked with rainbow hues,
+  The whispering of the trees,
+Nor perfumed airs of flowery June,
+  Can win her to her ease.
+
+Ah, serpent in our Paradise!
+  In choicest cup our gall!
+'Twas thou, distraught Anxiety,
+  Wrapped Beauty's self in pall;
+
+And for that lonely traveller
+  Empoisoned those sweet springs,
+To souls that languish, founts of life
+  Bestirred by angel wings.
+
+Thou gavest each breeze an infant's cry,
+  A wailing, woesome tone;
+And in each call of wildwood bird
+  Spoke still of freedom gone.
+
+Nay now, why starts she in her path,
+  By yonder tangled brake?
+'Tis at the dreaded menace sprung
+  By angry rattlesnake.
+
+But know that fear is not the brand
+  That marks the coward slave;
+'Tis conquered fear, and duty done,
+  That tells the truly brave.
+
+With stick, and stone, and weapon mean
+  She drives the wretch away,
+And then, with fluttering heart, pursues
+  Her solitary way.
+
+And oft she trips, and oft she falls,
+  And oft her gown is torn,
+And oft her tender skin is pierced
+  By many a clutching thorn.
+
+And weariness her courage tries;
+  And dread of  devious way;
+And oft she hears the wild-cat shriek
+  A requiem o'er its prey.
+
+And when the oppressive summer air
+  Hangs heavy in the woods,--
+Though many a bank of flowerets fair
+  Invites to restful moods;
+
+And though the ruby humming-bird
+  Drones with the humming bee;
+And every gnat and butterfly
+  Soars slow and fitfully;
+
+No rest that anxious messenger
+  Of baleful tidings takes,
+But all the waning afternoon
+  Her morning speed she makes.
+
+Over the hills, and 'mongst the brier,
+  And through the oozy swamp,
+Her weary steps must never tire
+  Ere burns the firefly's lamp.
+
+Oh, wherefore drops she on her knees,
+  And spreads imploring hands?
+Why blanches that courageous brow?
+  Alas! the wolves' dread bands!
+
+"Nay, not this death, dear Father! Not
+  A mangled prey to these!"
+She faintly cries to Heaven, from out
+  The darkening waste of trees.
+
+Fear not, O patriot, courage take,
+  Thy Father holds thy hand,
+Nor lets the powers of ill prevail
+  Where He doth take command.
+
+Away the prowling ghouls are fled,
+  Some fitter prey to seek;
+The trembling woman sighs the thanks
+  Her white lips cannot speak.
+
+
+IV.
+
+Now wherefore halts that sentry bold,
+   And lays his piece in rest,
+As from the shadowy depths below
+   One gains the beechen crest?
+
+'Tis but a woman, pale and faint,--
+   As woman oft may prove,
+Whose eagle spirit soars beyond
+   The home-flight of the dove.
+
+How changes now the sentry's mien,
+   How soft his tones and low,
+As Laura Secord tells her tale
+   Of an impendent foe!
+
+"God bless thee, now, thou woman bold,
+   And give thee great reward."
+The soldier says, with eyes suffused,
+   And keeps a jealous guard,
+
+As onward, onward still she goes,
+   With steady step and true,
+Towards her goal, yet far away,
+   Hid in the horizon blue.
+
+Behind her grows the golden moon,
+   Before her fall the shades,
+And somewhere near her hides the bird
+   Whose death-call haunts the glades.
+
+The early dew blooms all the sod,
+   The fences undulate
+In the weird light, like living lines
+   That swell with boding hate.
+
+For she has left the tangled woods,
+   And keeps the open plain
+Where once a fruitful farm-land bloomed,
+   And yet shall bloom again.
+
+And now, as nears the dreaded hour.
+   Her goal the nearer grows,
+And hope, the stimulus of life,
+   Her weary bosom glows.
+
+Toward's lone Decamp's--whose ancient home
+   Affords Fitzgibbon's band
+Such shelter as the soldier asks
+   Whose life hangs on his brand--
+
+A steady mile or so, and then--
+   Ah, what is't rends the air
+With horrent, blood-encurdling tones.
+   The tocsin of despair!
+
+It is the war-whoop of the braves,
+   Of Kerr's famed Mohawk crew,
+Who near Fitzgibbon ambushed lie
+   To serve that lonely few.
+
+Startled, yet fearless, on she speeds.
+   "Your chief denote," she cries;
+And, proudly towering o'er the crowd,
+   The chief does swift arise.
+
+Fierce rage is in his savage eye,
+   His tomahawk in air;
+"Woman! what woman want?" he cries,
+   "Her death does woman dare!"
+
+But quickly springs she to his side,
+   And firmly holds his arm,
+"Oh, chief, indeed no, spy am I,
+   But friend to spare you harm."
+
+And soon she makes her errand known,
+   And soon, all side by side,
+The red man and his sister brave
+   In silence quickly glide.
+
+And as the moon surmounts the trees,
+   They gain the sentried door,
+And faintly to Fitzgibbon she
+   Unfolds her tale once more.
+
+Then, all her errand done, she seeks
+   A lowly dwelling near,
+And sinks, a worn-out trembling thing,
+   Too faint to shed a tear.
+
+
+V.
+
+Now let the Lord of Hosts be praised!
+   Cheer brave Fitzgibbon's band,
+Whose bold discretion won the day,
+   And saved our threatened land!
+
+And cheer that weary traveller,
+   On lowly couch that lies,
+And scarce can break the heavy spell.
+   That holds her waking eyes.
+
+No chaplet wreathes her aching brows.
+   No paeans rend the air;
+But in her breast a jewel glows
+   The tried and true may wear.
+
+And Time shall twine her wreath of bays
+   Immortal as her fame,
+And many a generation joy,
+   In Laura Secord's name.
+
+"Fitzgibbon and the Forty-ninth!"
+   Whene'er ye drink that toast
+To brave deeds done a grateful land,
+   Praise Laura Secord most.
+
+As one who from the charged mine
+   Coils back the lighted fuse,
+'T was hers, at many a fearful risk,
+   To carry fateful news;
+
+And save the dreadnought band; and give
+  To Beaver Dam a name,
+The pride of true Canadian hearts,
+  Of others, but the shame.
+
+
+VI.
+
+Now wherefore trembles still the string
+  By lyric fingers crossed,
+To Laura Secord's praise and fame,
+  When forty years are lost?
+
+Nay, five and forty, one by one,
+  Have borne her from the day
+When, fired by patriotic zeal,
+  She trod her lonely way:
+
+Her hair is white, her step is slow,
+  Why kindles then her eye,
+And rings her voice with music sweet
+  Of many a year gone by?
+
+O know ye not proud Canada,
+  With joyful heart, enfolds
+In fond embrace, the royal boy
+  Whose line her fealty holds?
+
+For him she spreads her choicest cheer,
+  And tells her happiest tale,
+And leads him to her loveliest haunts,
+  That naught to please may fail.
+
+And great art thou, O Chippewa,
+  Though small in neighbours' eyes,
+When out Niagara's haze thou seest
+  A cavalcade arise;
+
+And, in its midst, the royal boy,
+  Who, smiling, comes to see
+An ancient dame whose ancient fame
+  Shines in our history.
+
+He takes the thin and faded hand,
+   He seats him at her side,
+Of all that gay and noble band,
+   That moment well the pride:
+
+To him the aged Secord tells,
+   With many a fervid glow,
+How, by her means, Fitzgibbon struck
+   His great historic blow.
+
+Nor deem it ye, as many do,
+   A weak and idle thing
+That, at that moment Laura loved
+   The praises of a king;
+
+And dwelt on his approving smile,
+   And kissed his royal hand,
+Who represented, and should wield,
+   The sceptre of our land;
+
+For where should greatness fire her torch,
+   If not at greatness' shrine?
+And whence should approbation come
+   Did not the gods incline?
+
+
+VII.
+
+And when, from o'er the parting seas,
+   A royal letter came,
+And brought a gift to recognize
+   Brave Laura Secord's fame.
+
+What wonder that her kindling eye
+   Should fade, suffused in tears?
+What wonder that her heart should glow,
+   Oblivious of the years?
+
+And honour ye the kindly grace
+   Of him who still hath been
+In all things kindly, and the praise
+   Of our beloved Queen.
+
+
+
+
+THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE,
+
+JUNE 21ST, 1887.
+
+
+   A Jubilee! A Jubilee!
+Waft the glad shout across the laughing sea!
+   A Jubilee! A Jubilee! O bells
+Ring out our gladness on your merry peals!
+
+O thou, the root and flower of this our joy,
+Well may thy praise our grateful hearts employ!
+Fair as the moon and glorious as the sun,
+Thy fame to many a future age shall run.
+
+"I WILL BE GOOD." 'Twas thus thy judgment spake,
+When, greatness would allure for greatness' sake.
+Thou _hast_ been good: herein thy strength hath lain;
+And not thine only, it hath been our gain:
+Nor ours alone, for every people's voice,
+Because thou hast been good, doth now rejoice.
+Beneath the shelter of that fruitful vine--
+Thy goodness--hath pure Virtue reared her shrine.
+Freedom hath lift her flag, and flung it free,
+Rejoicing in a god-like liberty.
+Truth hath her gracious lineaments revealed
+To humble souls, beneath Victoria's shield.
+Mercy, whose message bore thy first command,
+Hath carried festival to every land.
+Justice hath worn his robes unsmirched of gold;
+Nor longer strikes in vengeance, as of old.
+Kind Pity, wheresoe'er the tried might be,
+Widow, and babe, hath borne a balm from thee.
+Valour hath drawn his sword with surer aim:
+And Peace hath signed her treaties in thy name.
+Honour hath worn his plumes with nobler grace:
+And Piety pursued her readier race.
+Learning hath pressed where ne'er she walked before:
+And Science touched on realms undreamt of yore.
+Commerce hath spread wide wings o'er land and sea,
+And spoken nations glorious yet to be.
+Before the light of Temperance' purer grace.
+Excess hath veiled his spoiled and purpled face.
+And never since the peopled world began
+Saw it so strong the brotherhood of man.
+Great glory thus hath gathered round thy name,--
+VICTORIA. QUEEN. Goodness hath been thy fame,
+And greatness shall be, for the twain are one:
+As thy clear eye discerned ere rule begun.
+O Queen, receive anew our homage free:
+Our love and praise on this thy Jubilee.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND.
+
+CANADA'S TRIBUTE TO THE TWENTY-FOURTH (2ND WARWICKSHIRE) REGIMENT.
+
+
+    O the roaring and the thunder!
+    O the terror and the wonder!
+O the surging and the seething of the flood!
+    O the tumbling and the rushing--
+    O the grinding and the crushing--
+O the plunging and the rearing of the ice!
+    When the great St. Lawrence River,
+    With a mighty swell and shiver,
+Bursts amain the wintry bonds that hold him fast.
+
+    'Twas on an April morning--
+    And the air was full of warning
+Of the havoc and the crash that was to be.--
+    A deed was done, whose glory
+    Flames from out the simple story,
+Like the living gleam of diamond in the mine.
+    'Twas where St. Mary's Ferry
+    In sweet summer makes so merry,
+'Twixt St. Helen's fortressed isle and Montreal,
+    There, on an April morning,--
+    As if in haughty scorning
+Of the tale soft Zephyr told in passing by--
+    Firm and hard, like road of Roman,
+    Under team of sturdy yeoman,
+Or the guns, the ice lay smooth, and bright, and cold.
+    And watching its resistance
+    To the forces in the distance
+That nearer and yet nearer ever rolled,
+
+    Warning off who tempt the crossing,
+    All too soon so wildly tossing,
+Stood a party of Old England's Twenty-Fourth.
+    While as yet they gazed in wonder,
+    Sudden boomed the awful thunder
+That proclaimed the mighty conqueror at hand.
+    O then the fierce uplifting!
+    The trembling, and the rifting!
+The tearing, and the grinding, and the throes!
+    The chaos and careering,
+    The toppling and the rearing,
+The crashing and the dashing of the floes!
+
+    At such an awful minute
+    A glance,--the horror in it!--
+Showed a little maiden midway twixt the shores,
+    With hands a-clasp and crying.
+    And, amid the masses, trying,--
+Vainly trying--to escape on either hand.
+    O child so rashly daring!
+    Who thy dreadful peril sharing
+Shall, to save thee, tempt the terrors of the flood
+    That roaring, leaping, swirling,
+    And continuously whirling,
+Threats to whelm in frightful deeps thy tender form!
+    The helpless soldiers, standing
+    On a small precarious landing,
+Think of nothing but the child and her despair,
+    When a voice as from the Highest,--
+    To the child he being nighest--
+Falls _"Quick-march!"_  upon the ear of Sergeant Neill.
+    O blessed sense of duty!
+    As on banderole of duty
+His unswerving eye he fixes on the child;
+    And straight o'er floe and fissure,
+    Fragments yielding to his pressure,
+Toppling berg, and giddy block, he takes his way;
+
+    Sometimes climbing, sometimes crawling.
+    Sometimes leaping, sometimes falling,
+Till at last he stands where cowers the weeping child.
+    Then with all a victor's bearing.
+    As in warlike honours sharing,
+With the child all closely clasped upon his breast,
+    O'er floe and hummock taking
+    Any step for safety making,
+On he goes, till they who watch can see no more.
+
+    For both glass and light are failing.
+    As the ice-pack, slowly sailing,
+Bears him onward past the shore of far Longueil.
+    "Lost!" his comrades cry, and turning.
+    Eyes cast down, and bosoms burning,
+Gain the shelter of their quiet barrack home;
+    Where, all night, the tortured father
+    Clasps the agonizing mother.
+In the mute embrace of hopelessness and dread.
+    O the rapid alternations
+    When the loud reverberations
+Of the evening gun boom forth the hour of rest!
+    The suffering and the sorrow!
+    The praying for the morrow!
+The fears, the hopes, that tear the parents breasts!
+    And many a word is spoken
+    At the mess, so sadly broken,
+Of the men who mourn their comrade brave and true
+    And many a tear-drop glistens,
+    Where a watching mother listens
+To the tumult of the ice along the shore.
+    And ever creeping nearer,
+    Children hold each other dearer,
+In the gaps of slumber broken by its roar.
+
+    Twice broke the rosy dawning
+    Of a sunny April morning,
+And Hope had drooped her failing wings, to die;
+    When o'er the swelling river,
+    Like an arrow from a quiver,
+Came the news of rescue, safety, glad return;
+    And the mother, as from Heaven,
+    Clasped her treasure, newly-given;
+And the father wrung the hand of Sergeant Neill:
+    Who shrunk from their caressing,
+    Nor looked for praise or blessing,
+But straight returned to duty and his post.
+
+    And this the grateful story,
+    To others' praise and glory,
+That the Sergeant told his comrades round the fire.
+
+    "Far down the swelling river,
+    To the ocean flowing ever,
+With its teeming life of porpoise, fish, and seal,
+    There hardy, brave, and daring,
+    Dwells the _habitant_; nor caring
+Save to make his frugal living by his skill.
+    Nor heeds he of the weather,
+    For scale, and fur, and feather,
+Lay their tribute in his hand the year around.
+    On the sunny April morning,
+    That the ice had given warning
+Of the havoc and the crash that was to be,
+    Stood Pierre, Louis, gazing,
+    Their prayers to Mary raising,
+For a season full of bounty from the sea.
+    And when the light was failing,
+    And the ice-pack, slowly-sailing,
+Crashing, tumbling, roaring, thundering, passed them by,
+    Their quick eye saw with wonder,
+    On the masses torn asunder,
+An unfortunate who drifted to his doom.
+
+    "O then the exclamations!
+    The rapid preparations!
+The launching of canoes upon the wave!
+    The signalling and shouting!--
+    Death and disaster flouting--
+The anxious haste, the strife, a human life to save
+    Across the boiling surges,
+    Each man his light bark urges,
+Though death is in the error of a stroke;
+    And paddling, poising, drifting,
+    O'er the floes the light shell lifting,
+The gallant fellows reach the whirling pack:
+    And from the frightful danger,
+    They save the worn-out stranger.
+And oh, to see the nursling in his arms!
+    And oh, the pious caring,
+    The sweet and tender faring,
+From the gentle hands of Marie and Louise!
+    And the pretty, smiling faces,
+    As the travellers take their places
+To return again to those who weep their loss.
+
+    And the Sergeant's story ending,
+    His head in rev'rence bending,
+He cried "God bless for ever all noble souls like these!"
+    But cheer on cheer resounded,
+    Till the officers, astounded
+At their mess, upon their sword-hilts clapped their hands.
+    And the plaudits rose still higher,
+    When they joined with martial fire,
+In the cry "God bless the Twenty-Fourth, and its gallant Sergeant Neill!"
+
+
+
+
+OCTOBER 13TH, 1872.
+
+A PLEA FOR THE VETERANS OF 1812.
+
+
+Forget not, Canada, the men who gave,
+In fierce and bloody fray, their lives for thine.
+Pause thou, Ontario, in thy forward march,
+And give a tear to those who, long ago,
+On this day fell upon those Heights where now
+Their ashes rest beneath memorial pile.
+And while those names, BROCK and MACDONELL, wake
+A throb of emulative gratitude
+And patriotic fervour in thy breast,
+Forget not those--"the boys," the nameless ones,--
+Who also fought and fell on that October day;
+Nameless their ashes, but their memories dear!
+            Remember, too,
+Those grandsires at thy hearths who linger still;
+Whose youthful arms then helped to guard thy peace,
+Thy peace their own. And ere they go to join
+Their ancient comrades of the hard-won fight,
+Glad their brave hearts with one applauding cheer
+In memory of the day. Comfort their age
+With plenty. Let them find that sturdy youth,
+Whose heritage they saved, bows rev'rent head,
+And lends a strong right arm to ancient men,
+Whose deeds of patriot prowess deck the silk
+That waves so proudly from the nation's towers.
+
+
+
+
+LOYAL.
+
+  "The Loyalists having sacrificed their property to their politics,
+  were generally poor, and had to work hard and suffer many privations
+  before they could reap crops to support their families. In those
+  early days there were no merchants, no bakeries, no butchers' shop's,
+  no medical men to relieve the fevered brain or soothe a mother's
+  aching heart, no public house, no minister to console the dying or
+  bury the dead, no means of instruction for the young; all was bush,
+  hard labour and pinching privation for the present, and long toil for
+  the rising generations."
+                                                   REV. G. A. ANDERSON,
+             _Protestant Chaplain to the Reformatory, Penetanguishene_.
+
+
+O Ye, who with your blood and sweat
+  Watered the furrows of this land,--
+See where upon a nation's brow
+  In honour's front, ye proudly stand!
+
+Who for her pride abased your own,
+  And gladly on her altar laid
+All bounty of the older world,
+  All memories that your glory made.
+
+And to her service bowed your strength,
+  Took labour for your shield and crest;
+See where upon a nation's brow
+  Her diadem, ye proudly test!
+
+
+
+
+ON QUEENSTON HEIGHTS.
+
+
+                I stood on Queenston Heights;
+And as I gazed from tomb to cenotaph,
+From cenotaph to tomb, adown and up,
+My heart grew full, much moved with many thoughts.
+                At length I cried:
+"O robed with honour and with glory crowned,
+Tell me again the story of yon pile."
+And straight the ancient, shuddering cedars wept,
+The solemn junipers indued their pall,
+The moaning wind crept through the trembling oaks
+And, shrieking, fled. Strange clamour filled the air;
+The steepy hill shook with the rush of arms;
+Around me rolled the tide of sudden war.
+The booming guns pealed forth their dreadful knell;
+Musketry rattled; shouts, cries, groans, were heard;
+Men met as foes, and deadly strife ensued.
+From side to side the surging combat rolled,
+And as it rolled, passed from my ken.
+A silence! On the hill an alien flag
+Flies flaunting in the wind, mocking the gun.
+Dark forms pour o'er the heights, and Britain's day
+Broods dark.
+But hark! a ringing cheer peals up the height
+Once more the battle's tide bursts on my view.
+Brock to the rescue! Down goes the alien flag!
+Back, back the dark battalions fall. On, on
+The "Tigers" come. Down pours the rattling shot
+From out the verdant grove, like sheets of hail.
+Up, up they press, York volunteers and all.
+Aha! the day is ours! See, where the hero comes
+In conquering might, quick driving all before him!
+O brave ensample! O beloved chief!
+Who follows thee keeps ever pace with honour.
+Shout Victory! Proud victory is ours!
+Ours, noble Brock!
+
+Ours? DEATH'S! _Death wins;_ THE DAY IS HIS.
+
+Ah! shudder still ye darkling cedars,
+Chant yet your doleful monotone, ye winds;
+Indue again your grey funereal pall,
+Ye solemn junipers; for here he fell,
+And here he lies,--dust; ashes; nothing.
+
+Such tale the hill-side told me, and I wept.
+Nay! I wept _not!_ The hot, indignant thoughts
+That filled my breast burned up the welling tears
+Ere they had chance to flow, and forward Hate
+Spake rashly. But calm Reflection
+Laid her cool hand upon my throbbing brow
+And whispered, "As up the misty stream
+The _Norseman_ crept to-day, and signals white
+Waved kind salutes from yon opposing shore;
+And as ye peered the dusky vista through,
+To catch first glimpse of yonder glorious plinth,
+Yet saw it not till _I_ your glance directed,--
+So high it towered above the common plane;--
+So, towering over Time, shall Brock e'er stand.--
+So, from those banks, shall white-robed Peace e'er smile.
+
+_October 12, 1881_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NEW ORLEANS, MONROE, MAYOR, APRIL 29, 1862.
+
+       *        *        *        *        *
+
+THE HAULING DOWN OF THE STATE FLAG FROM OVER THE CITY HALL.
+
+  "The crowd flowed in from every direction and filled the street
+  in a compact mass both above and below the square. They were silent,
+  but angry and threatening. An open way was left in front of the hall,
+  and their force being stationed, Captain Bell and Lieutenant Kantz
+  passed across the street, mounted the hall steps and entered the
+  Mayor's parlour. Approaching the Mayor, Captain Bell said: "I have
+  come in obedience to orders to haul down the State flag from this
+  building." ... As soon as the two officers left the room Mr. Monroe
+  also went out. Descending the front steps he walked out into the
+  street, and placed himself immediately in front of the howitzer
+  pointing down St. Charles Street. There, folding his arms, he fixed
+  his eyes upon the gunner who stood, lanyard in hand, ready for action.
+  Here he remained without once looking up or moving, until the flag
+  had been hauled down by Lieutenant Kantz, and he and Captain Bell
+  reappeared.... As they passed out through the Camp Street gate,
+  Mr. Monroe turned towards the hall, and the people, who had hitherto
+  preserved the silence he had asked from them, broke into cheers for
+  their Mayor."
+                             MARION A. BAKER, _in July (1886) Century_.
+
+
+A noble man! a man deserving trust.
+A man in whom the higher elements
+Worked freely. A man of dignity;
+On whom the robes and badge of state sat well
+Because the majesty of self-control,
+And all its grace, were his.
+                             I see him now--
+Pale with the pallor of a full, proud heart--
+Descend those steps and take his imminent place
+Before the deadly piece, as who should say
+"'Ware ye! these people are my people; such
+Their inward heat and mine at this poor deed
+That scarce we can control our kindled blood.
+But should ye mow them down, ye mow me too.
+'Ware ye!"
+           O men for whose dear sake he stood
+An offering and a hostage; on that scroll
+Old Chronos doth unfold along the years
+Are writ in gold names of undaunted Mayors,
+Pepin and Charlemagne, and Whittington
+And White. Did not your fathers know them?
+And shall not he, your Mayor of 'Sixty-two,
+Monroe, stand side by side with them?
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE EMIGRANT'S SONG.
+
+
+I.
+
+No work, no home, no wealth have I,
+  But Mary loves me true,
+And, for her sake, upon my knees
+  I'd beg the wide world through:
+For her sweet eyes look into mine
+  With fondness soft and deep;
+My heart's entranced, and I could die
+  Were death a conscious sleep.
+
+
+II.
+
+But life is work, and work is life,
+  And life's the way to heaven,
+And hand-in-hand we'd like to go
+  The road that God has given.
+And England, dear old Motherland,
+  Has plenty mouths to feed
+Without her sons and daughters fair,
+  Whose strength is as their need.
+
+
+III.
+
+To Canada! To Canada!
+  To that fair land I'll roam,
+And till the soil with heart of grace,
+  For Mary and a home.
+Hurrah for love! Hurrah for hope!
+  Hurrah for industry!
+Hurrah for bonnie Canada,
+  And her bonnie maple tree!
+
+
+
+
+TO THE INDIAN SUMMER.
+
+
+And art thou come again, sweet Indian maid!
+How beautiful thou art where thou dost stand,
+With step arrested, on the bridge that joins
+The Past and Future--thy one hand waving
+Farewell to Summer, whose fond kiss hath set
+Thy yellow cheeks aglow, the other stretched
+To greet advancing Winter!
+Nor can thy veil, tissue diaphanous
+Of crimsoned haze, conceal thy lustrous eyes;--
+Those eyes in whose dark depths a tear-drop lurks
+Ready to fall, for Beauty loved and lost.
+From thy point gazing, maiden, let us, too,
+Once more behold the panorama fair
+Of the lost year. See where, far down yon slope
+That meets the sun, doth quick advance gay Spring,
+His dainty fingers filled with swelling buds:
+O'er his wreathed head, among the enlacing trees,
+The merry birds flit in and out, to choose
+A happy resting-place; and singing rills
+Dwell on his praise. Gladly his laughing eyes
+Rest on fair Summer's zone set thick with flowers,
+That chide their own profusion as, tiptoe,
+And arm outstretched, she reaches to restore
+The fallen nestling, venturous and weak:
+While many a nursling claims her tender care.
+Beneath her smile all Nature doth rejoice,
+And breaks into a song that sweeps the plain
+Where now the swarthy Autumn, girded close,
+Gathers his yellow sheaves and juicy fruit
+To overflowing garners; measure full,
+And blest to grateful souls. Through the low air
+A myriad wings circle in restless sort;
+And from the rustling woods there comes a sound
+Of dropping nuts and acorns--welcome store
+To little chipmunk and to squirrel blithe:
+Dependants small on Nature's wide largesse.
+How doth the enchanting picture fill our souls
+With faith! Sweet Indian maid, we turn with thee
+And greet gray Winter with a trustful smile.
+
+
+
+
+IN JUNE.
+
+
+I cannot sleep, and morning's earliest light,
+All soft and rosy, tempts my restlessness
+To ask from Nature what of peace she gives.
+I gaze abroad, and all my soul is moved
+At that strange calm that floats o'er earth at rest.
+The silver sickle of the summer moon
+Hangs on the purple east. The morning star,
+Like a late watcher's lamp, pales in the dawn.
+Yonder, the lake, that 'neath the midday sun
+All restless glows and burns like burnished shield,
+Lies as a child at rest with curtain drawn.
+The forest trees are still. The babbling creek
+Flows softly through the copse and glides away;
+And the fair flowers, that lie as thick and sweet
+As posies at a bridal, sleep quietly.
+No early breeze his perfumed wings unfolds.
+No painted butterfly to pleasure wakes.
+The bees, whose busy hum pervades the hours
+Through all the sultry day, keep yet the hive.
+And, save the swallow, whose long line of works
+Beneath each gable, points to labours vast,
+No bird yet stirs. Upon the dewy mead
+The kine repose; the active horse lies prone;
+And the white ewes doze o'er their tender lambs,
+Like village mothers with their babes at breast.
+So still, so fair, so calm, the morning broods,
+That, while I know the gairish day will come,
+And bring its clouds of gnat-like stinging cares,
+Rest steals into my heart, and gentle peace.
+
+
+
+
+LIVINGSTONE.
+
+OBIT MAY 1ST, 1883.
+
+
+Sleep now and take thy rest, thou mighty dead!
+Thy work is done--thy grand and glorious work.
+Not "Caput Nili" shall thy trophy be.
+But _broken slave-sticks and a riven chain_.
+As the man Moses, thy great prototype,
+Snatched, by the hand of God, his groaning millions
+From out the greedy clutch of Egypt's despot;
+So hast thou done for Afric's toiling sons:
+Hast snatched its peoples from the poisonous fangs
+Of hissing Satan, veiled in commerce foul.
+For this thy fame shall ring; for this thy praise
+Shall be in every mouth for ever. Ay,
+Thy true human heart hath here its guerdon--
+A continent redeemed from slavery.--
+To this, how small the other! Yet 'twas great.
+Ah, not in vain those long delays, those groans
+Wrung from thy patient soul by obstacle,
+The work of peevish man; these were the checks
+From that Hand guiding, that led thee all the way.
+_He_ willed thy soul should vex at tyranny;
+Thine ear should ring with murdered women's shrieks,
+That torturing famine should thy footsteps clog;
+That captive's broken hearts should ache thine own.
+And Slavery--that villain plausible--
+That thief Gehazi!--He stripped before thine eyes
+And showed him all a leper, foul, accursed.
+_He_ touched thy lips, and every word of thine
+Vibrates on chords whose deep electric thrill
+Shall never cease till that wide wound be healed.
+And then He took thee home. Ay, home, great heart!
+Home to _His_ home, where never envious tongue,
+Nor vile detraction, nor base ingratitude,
+Nor cold neglect, shall sting the quiv'ring heart.
+Thou endedst well. One step from earth to Heaven,
+When His voice called "Friend, come up higher."
+
+
+
+
+ON SEEING THE ENGRAVING
+
+"THE FIRST VISIT OF QUEEN VICTORIA TO HER WOUNDED
+SOLDIERS ON THEIR RETURN FROM THE CRIMEA."
+
+
+Yes, go to them, the brave, the tried, the hurt--
+'Tis very fitting so! _We_ cannot go--
+Some scores of million souls--to tell them all
+                  We think and feel:
+To ease the burden of our laden hearts;
+To give the warm grasp of our British hands
+In strong assurance of our praise and love;
+Of our deep gratitude, to them, our friends,
+Our _brothers_, who for us toiled, suffered, bled:
+And left, as we, their dead upon the field,
+Their comrades tried and true, around Scutari.
+Go to them, then, dear Queen,'tis very fitting so!
+_Thy_ hand can clasp for _ours. Thy_ voice express
+                  _Our_ hearts.
+We send thee as our _best_, as so we ought;
+We send thee as our _dearest_, as thou art;
+We send thee our _elect_, perfect to fill
+The office thou hast chosen for our sakes.
+A gentle woman thou, and therefore tender:--
+A loving wife, and therefore sympathetic:--
+A mother, thou, and therefore patient:--
+Is there a son among those wounded men
+Has made his mother sad? Thy tear will soften him.
+Is there a husband kept from wife and bairns?
+Thy smile will comfort him.
+Is there a lonely one with none to love?
+He'll warm beneath thy glance, his dear Queen's glance;
+And--soldiers all--they'll all forget their pains,
+And long to fight again, even to fall, for thee.
+And if for thee, for us; us, who would clasp
+Their thin worn hands in ours, and smile our thanks,
+And speak our praise of them, and heal their wounds
+With gentlest care, each, for himself, if so
+We might thus ease our o'er-full hearts.
+Yet happy are we still in this, nay, happier,--
+Thou being that _our best; our dearest;_
+_Our elect; perfect epitome_
+_Of all we would_--that thou dost go to them.
+
+_Great Western Hotel, Liverpool, June 9, 1880_.
+
+
+
+
+TO A CHILD
+
+SINGING "JESUS LOVES ME, THIS I KNOW."
+
+
+Sing, little darling, sing,
+And may thy song be everlasting!
+Not all the learning wits and sages boast
+Can equal the sweet burden of thy song;--
+Can yield such rest amid life's noisiest strife;--
+Such peace to still the spirit's wildest wars;--
+Such hope to stem the most tumultuous wave
+May threat to overwhelm.
+                  The love of Jesus,--
+Sweet, having this thou risest far above
+All this world's clouds, and catchest glimpse of Heaven.
+
+                  Did He who blest
+That infant band that crowded round His knee,
+See, in a face like thine, a tender memory
+Of that dear home He left for our sakes?
+It may be; nay, it must: "Of such," He said,
+"My Father's kingdom." And His great heart
+Went out in fondest tones: His soft embrace
+Encircling such as thou, thrilled out that love
+That vibrates yet, and still enfolds so warm
+His tender lambs.
+                  Sing, little darling, sing,
+And may thy song be everlasting.
+
+
+
+
+HOME.
+
+
+The morning sun shone soft and bright,
+  The air was pure and clear,
+My steady steps fell quick and light,
+  Nor knew my soul a fear.
+For though the way was long and cold,
+  The end I knew not where,
+Hope's vivid pictures made me bold
+  To wait, or do, or dare.
+
+But ah, the change when evening gray
+  Curtained a cloudy sky,
+And languid, I retraced the way
+  My feet could scarce descry!
+By rugged care my heart was bruised,
+  Hope's rainbow tints were gone;
+To this world's watch and ward unused,
+  I could but stumble on.
+
+The rough wind's breath, the dark sky's frown
+  Fell like the stroke of wrath,
+When--from above a star looked down--
+  A ray beamed on my path.
+The light of Home--oh, blessed light--
+  To weary wanderers dear!
+The light of Heaven, oh, glorious light
+  To souls that stumble here!
+
+What matters now the weary road,
+  My toil shall soon be o'er;
+And, oh, at last, at home with God
+  Life's cares shall cark no more.
+Be this my hope! Be this my aim!
+  Though rough the road may be,
+Thy feet, blest Jesus, trod the same,
+  And I would follow Thee.
+
+
+
+
+LOST WITH HIS BOAT.
+
+
+Alone--alone! I sit, and make my moan.
+The fire burns low, the candle flickers dim.
+Alone--alone! I rock, and think of him.
+Of him who left me in the purple pride
+Of early manhood. _Yestermorn_ he went.
+The sun shone bright, and scintillant the tide.
+O'er which the sea-mew swept, with dewy drops besprent.
+Before he went he kissed me; and I watched
+His boat that lay so still and stately, till
+Automaton she seemed, and that she moved
+To where she willed of her own force and law.
+But I knew better: _his_ was the will
+That set the pretty sprite a-going.
+His arms controlled her to obedience:
+Those arms that lately clasped me.
+                  No alarms
+Chilled my fond heart, nor dimmed my vision.
+As I saw the fair white messenger move off
+On fleecy puffs of cloud into the blue;
+My nearest thought to trim my hearth, and make,
+A dainty dish would please my darling's taste
+On his return.  And all day long, and through
+The dreamy summer day, my thoughts were full
+Of many a gay return; my ears reheard
+The cheery word and joke were wont to mark them.
+Nor when the sun went down in wrack and mist--
+A mist that gathers who knows how or where?--
+Feared I of aught. My little hearth burned bright.
+The kettle sang, and pussy purred and napped;
+And--rocking to and fro, as I do now,
+I hummed a little song; one _he_, had sung
+In other days, and with the manly tones
+Had stolen my heart away.
+The hearth burned low; I ate my meal alone,
+And something like a fear I chased away,
+Despite the deepening surges of the wind
+That scurried round our cot.
+                  I slept: and waked
+What time the summer storm, that rose and fell
+In sullen gusts, flew by; and slept again,
+And dreamed a glad return. When morning broke
+A glorious day begun. The storm was gone:
+The sparkling waves toyed with the lilting breeze;
+The merry sun shone bright; and all the blue
+Was decked with tiny flecks of feathery white.
+A gladsome morn! But I, I missed my love.
+
+_And now they say he's dead_. Lost, with his boat,
+In that short summer storm of yesternight.
+Lost! _lost_! my love is lost! No more may I
+Welcome his step, hear his glad voice, and kiss
+His laughing lips. I may not even clasp
+His cold dead form in one long, last embrace!
+And here I sit alone.--
+I drove them all away, their words but maddened me.
+                  Alone I sit,
+And rock, and think,--I cannot weep--
+And conjure up the depths, those cruel depths
+That chafe and fret, and roll him to and fro
+Like a stray log:--he, whose dear limbs should lie
+Peaceful and soft, in rev'rent care bestowed.--
+Or in the sunken boat, gulfed at his work,
+I see his blackened corse, even in death
+Faithful to duty. O that those waves,
+That with their gentle lullaby mock my wild woe,
+Would rise in all their might and 'whelm me too!
+Oh, love!--oh, love!--my love!
+
+
+
+
+LIFE IN DEATH.
+
+
+On her pale bier the baby lay,
+And healthy children from their play,
+With tip-toe awe and bated breath,
+Came gently in to look on Death.
+
+One touched the flowers that decked the bier;
+Another dropped a little tear;
+One stroked the cheek so waxy white;
+And one cowered weeping with affright.
+
+But one fair boy won Life from Death
+By that quick faith that childhood hath;
+And cried, with gaze past present things,
+"P'raps baby's trying her new wings."
+
+
+
+
+INVOCATION TO RAIN.
+
+MAY, 1874.
+
+
+O blessed angel of the All-bounteous King,
+Where dost thou stay so long? Our sad hearts pine,
+Our spirits faint, for thee. Our weary eyes
+Scan all the blue expanse, where not a cloud
+Floats low to rest our vision. In vain we turn
+Or East or West, no vap'rous haze, nor view
+Of distant panorama, wins our souls
+To other worlds. All, all is hard and scant.
+             Thy brother Spring is come.
+His favourite haunts the sheltering woods betray--
+The woods that, dark and cheerless yet, call thee.
+Tender hepaticas peep forth, and mottled leaves
+Of yellow dog's tooth vie with curly fronds
+Of feathery fern, in strewing o'er his path;
+The dielytra puts her necklace on,
+Of pearly pendants, topaz-tipped or rose.
+Gray buds are on the orchard trees, and grass
+Grows up in single blades and braves the sun.
+But thou!--O, where art thou, sweet early Rain,
+That with thy free libations fill'st our cup?
+The contemplative blue-bird pipes his note
+From off the ridge cap, but can find no spot
+Fit for his nest. The red-breast on the fence
+Explores the pasture with his piercing eye,
+And visits oft the bushes by the stream,
+But takes no mate. For why? No leaves or tuft
+Are there to hide a home. Oh what is earth
+Without a home?  On the dry garden bed,
+The sparrow--the little immigrant bird--
+Hops quick, and looks askance,
+And pecks, and chirps, asking for kindly crumbs--
+Just two or three to feed his little mate:
+Then, on return from some small cunning nook
+Where he has hidden her, he mounts the wires,
+Or garden fence, and sings a happy song
+Of home, and other days. A-missing thee
+The husbandman goes forth with faltering step
+And dull sad eye; his sweltering team pulls hard
+The lab'ring plough, but the dry earth falls back
+As dead, and gives nor fragrant fume, nor clogs
+The plough-boy's feet with rich encumb'ring mould.
+The willows have a little tender green.
+And swallows cross the creek--the gurgling creek
+Now fallen to pools--but, disappointed,
+Dart away so swift, and fly so high
+We scarce can follow them. Thus all the land
+Doth mourn for thee.
+             Ah! here thou comest--sweet Rain.
+Soft, tender Rain! benison of the skies!
+See now, what transformation in thy touch!
+Straight all the land is green. The blossoming trees
+Put on their bridal wreaths, and veil their charms
+From the too ardent sun, beneath thy gift
+Of soft diaphanous tissue, pure and white
+As angel's raiment. Little wood children
+Deck all the path with flowers. The teeming earth
+Offers rich gifts. The little choristers
+Sing ceaseless hymns, and the glad husbandman
+Adds his diapason. Bright fountains wake
+And mingle with the swift roulade of streams.
+The earth is full of music! Thou dost swing
+Thy fragrant censer high, and dwellers in
+The dusty city raise their toil-worn heads
+From desk and bench, and cry "Summer is here!"
+And straight they smell new hay and clover blooms;
+And see the trout swift-darting in the brooks:
+And hear the plover whistling in the fields.
+And little children dream of daisy chains;
+And pent-up youth thinks of a holiday;
+A holiday with romps, and cream, and flowers.
+O, Rain! O, soft, sweet Rain! O liberal Rain!
+Touch our hard hearts, that we may more become
+Like that Great Heart, whose almoner art thou.
+
+
+
+
+REMONSTRANCE WITH "REMONSTRANCE."
+
+(IN "CANADIAN MONTHLY," APRIL, 1874.)
+
+
+Why now, sweet Alice, though thy numbers ring
+Like silver bells, methinks their burden wrong.
+For if 'tis right, then were the hermits right,
+And all recluses.  And He was wrong
+Who gave to Adam, Eve: and leaned upon
+The breast of John the loved.  So was He wrong
+To love the gentle home at Bethany.
+The sisters, and their brother Lazarus.
+So was He wrong to weep at Lazarus' grave,
+Pity's hot tears for Sin, and Death, and Woe.
+And in that awful hour when manhood failed
+And God forsook, He still was wrong to think
+With tenderest solicitude and care
+Upon his mother, and leave her in the charge
+Of John.  And He was wrong who gave us hearts
+To yearn, and sensibilities to meet
+Those "clinging tendrils" thou wouldst have us cut.
+      If thou art right, sweet Alice,
+There were no ties of infancy, or age;
+Of consanguinity: or noble bond
+Of wide humanity, or sacred home:
+For without love,--e'en our poor earthly love,--
+The world were dead.
+Love is the silver cord, that, being loosed,
+The fabric of humanity falls wide
+In hopeless wrack.  Well for us it is
+That when our nature, hurt, falls, shrieking, down,
+The Great Physician's hand may raise it up
+And bind the wound. But what mad folly 'twere
+Did we, like peevish child, beat down the hand,
+And tear afresh the wound.  And this we do
+When of our morbid selves we idols make,
+And cry "No sorrow like to mine."
+O rather should we turn our tenderer hearts--
+Made gentler by our griefs--to gentle cares
+For weak Humanity, and, knowing what woe
+Our sinful nature brings upon itself,
+With God-like pity love it but the more.
+
+
+
+
+THE ABSENT ONES.
+
+
+How I miss their faces!
+  Faces that I love.
+Where I read the traces
+  Heart and soul approve.
+Traces of their father
+  Scattered here and there;
+Here a little gesture,
+  There a twist of hair.
+Brave and generous Bertie,
+  Sweet and quiet Fred,
+Tender-hearted Jackie,
+  Various, but true-bred.
+
+How I miss their voices
+  Raised in laughter gay;
+And in loving blessing
+  When they go to pray.
+Even of their quarrels
+  Miss I now the noise,
+Angry or disdainful,
+  (What are they but boys?)
+Shouting in the garden,
+  Spurring on the game,
+Calling a companion
+  By some favourite name.
+
+How I miss the footsteps,
+  Lightsome, loud, or slow;
+Telling by their echo
+  How the humours go.
+Lagging when they're lazy.
+  Running when they're wild.
+Leaping when they're gladsome,
+  Walking when they're mild.
+Footsteps, voices, faces,
+  Where are ye to-night?
+Father, keep my darlings
+  Ever in Thy sight.
+
+
+
+
+AWAY.
+
+
+Oh, where are all the madcaps gone?
+Why is the house so drear and lone?
+No merry whistle wakes the day,
+Nor evening rings with jocund play.
+No clanging bell, with hasty din,
+Precedes the shout, "Is Bertie in?"
+Or "Where is Fred?" "Can I see Jack?"
+"How soon will he be coming back?
+Or "Georgie asks may I go out,"
+He has a treasure just found out."
+The wood lies out in all the rain,
+No willing arms to load are fain
+The weeds grow thick among the flowers,
+And make the best of sunny hours;
+The drums are silent; fifes are mute;
+No tones are raised in high dispute;
+No hearty laughter's cheerful sound
+Announces fun and frolic round.
+Here's comic Alan's wit wants sport;
+And dark-eyed Bessie's quick retort
+Is spent on Nellie, mild and sweet;
+And dulness reigns along the street.
+The table's lessened numbers bring
+No warm discussion's changeful ring,
+Of hard-won goal, or slashing play,
+Or colours blue, or brown, or gray.
+The chairs stand round like rows of pins;
+No hoops entrap unwary shins;
+No marbles--boyhood's gems--roll loose;
+And stilts may rust for want of use;
+No book-bags lie upon the stairs;
+Nor nails inflict three-cornered tears.
+Mamma may lay her needle down,
+And take her time to go up town;
+Albeit, returning she may miss
+The greeting smile and meeting kiss.
+
+But hark! what message cleaves the air.
+From skies where roams the Greater Bear!
+"Safe, well, and happy, here are we,
+Wild as young colts and just as free!
+With plenteous hand and kindly heart,
+Our hosts fulfil a liberal part.
+Nor lack we food to suit the mind,
+Our alma-mater here we find,
+And in her agricultural school
+We learn to farm by modern rule;
+Professor Walter fills the chair,
+But teaches in the open air.
+And by his side we tend the stock,
+Or swing the scythe, or bind the shock.
+Nor miss we academic lore,
+We walk where Plato walked before,
+And eloquent Demosthenes,
+Who taught their youth beneath the trees;
+Here with sharp eyes we love to scan
+The rules that point Dame Nature's plan,
+We mark the track of bear and deer,
+And long to see them reft of fear.--
+Though well they shun our changeful moods,
+Taught by our rifle in the woods.
+Yet we may tell of mercy shown,
+Power unabused, the birdling flown,--
+When caught by thistly gossamer--
+Set free to wing the ambient air.
+Cautious we watch the gliding snake,
+'Neath sheltering stone, or tangled brake,
+And list the chipmunk's merry trill
+Proclaim his wondrous climbing skill.
+The bird; the beast; the insect; all
+In turn our various tastes enthrall;
+The fish; the rock; the tree; the flower;
+Yield to quick observation's power.
+And many a treasure swells our store
+Of joys for days when youth is o'er.
+Our glowing limbs we love to lave
+Beneath the lake's translucent wave,
+Or on its heaving bosom ride
+In merry boat; or skilful guide
+The light canoe, with balanced oar,
+To yonder islet's pebbly shore.
+Sometimes, with rod and line, we try
+The bass's appetite for fly;
+Well pleased if plunge or sudden dart
+Try all our piscatorial art;
+And shout with joy to see our catch
+Prove bigger than we thought our match.
+Oft when the ardent sun at noon
+Proclaims his power, we hide full soon
+Within the cool of shady grove,
+Or, gathering berries slowly rove
+And often when the sun goes down,
+We muse of home, and you in town;
+And had we but a carrier dove
+We'd send her home with loads of love."
+
+
+
+
+POOR JOE.
+
+
+He cannot dance, you say, nor sing,
+  Nor troll a lilting stave;
+And when the rest are cracking jokes
+  He's silent as the grave.
+
+Poor Joe! I know he cannot sing--
+  His voice is somewhat harsh:
+But he can whistle loud and clear
+  As plover in the marsh.
+
+Nor does he dance, but he would walk
+  Long miles to serve a friend,
+And though he cares not crack a joke,
+  He will the truth defend.
+
+And so, though he for company
+  May not be much inclined,
+I love poor Joe, and think his home
+  Will be just to my mind.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FRAGMENTS.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR."
+
+
+A happy year, sweet as the breath of flowers:
+  A merry year, glad as the song of birds,
+A jocund year, gay as brown harvest hours;
+  A prosperous year, rich, as in flocks and herds.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+THE LIFE-BOAT MAN.
+
+
+When the loud minute gun alarms the night,
+And plunging waters hide the bark from sight,
+When lurid lightnings threat, and thunders roll.
+And roaring tempests daunt the trembling soul--
+'Tis thine, O Life-boat Man, such fears to brave,
+And snatch the drowning from a watery grave.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I am learning the stitch," the lover said
+As over her work he bent his head.
+But the scene spake plain to the mother's eye
+"I am watching these busy fingers ply."
+And ever anon when a stitch she'd miss,
+'Twas because he bent lower her hand to kiss.
+Oh tender lover, and busy maid,
+May the sweet enchantment never fade;
+Nor the thread of life, though a stitch may miss,
+Know a break that may not be joined by a kiss.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE.
+
+A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+SCENE 1.--_Scugog_.
+
+_The breakfast-room in the house of_ BLOGGS, _a wealthy Scugog
+merchant. At the table_, KATE, _his daughter, reading a letter_.
+
+  _Kate (in much indignation)_. Refused! I knew it!
+The crass ingratitude of haughty man,
+Vested in all the pride of place and power,
+Brooks not the aspirations of my sex,
+However just. Is't that he fears to yield,
+Lest from his laurelled brow the wreath should fall
+And light on ours? We may matriculate,
+And graduate--if we can, but he excludes
+Us from the beaten path he takes himself.
+The sun-lit heights of steep Parnassus
+Reach past the clouds, and we below must stay;
+Not that our alpen-stocks are weak, or that
+Our breath comes short, but that, forsooth, we wear
+The Petticoat. Out on such trash!
+
+_Enter_ MR. BLOGGS.
+
+  _Mr. Bloggs_. Why, what's the matter, Kate?
+
+  _Kate_. Not much, papa, only I am refused
+Admission to the college. _Sapient_ says
+The Council have considered my request,
+And find it inconsistent with the rules
+Of discipline and order to admit
+Women within their walls.
+
+  _Mr. B_. I thought they'd say so. Now be satisfied;
+You've studied hard. Have made your mark upon
+The honour list. Have passed your second year.
+Let that suffice. You know enough to wed,
+And Gilmour there would give his very head
+To have you. Get married, Kate.
+
+  _Kate_. Papa, you vex me; Gilmour has no chance
+And that I'll let him know. Nor have I spent
+My youth in studious sort to give up now.
+
+  _Mr. Bloggs_. What will you do? They will not let you in,
+For fear you'd turn the heads of all the boys.
+And quite right, too. I wouldn't have the care
+And worry of a lot of lively girls
+For all I'm worth.
+
+                                                      [_He kisses her_.
+
+  _Kate_. P'raps not, papa. But yet I mean to have
+The prize I emulate.
+            If I obtain
+The honours hung so tantalizingly
+Before us by the University,
+Will you defray the cost, as hitherto
+You've done, like my own kind papa?
+
+                                                     [_She kisses him_.
+
+  _Mr. Bloggs_. I guess I'll have to: they won't send the bills to you.
+
+  _Kate_. Ah, dear papa! I'll make you proud of me
+As if I were a son.
+
+_Enter_ MRS. BLOGGS. _Exit_ MR. BLOGGS.
+
+  _Mrs. Bloggs_. My dearest Kate,
+      How very late
+            You keep the breakfast things!
+
+  _Kate_. My dear mamma,
+      I had papa
+            To tell of lots of things.
+
+  _Mrs. Bloggs_. Your secret, pray,
+      If so I may
+            Be let into it also.
+
+  _Kate_.  Oh, it was just this letter, mamma, from Mr. Sapient,
+telling me that the Council won't let me go to University College to
+share the education that can only be had there at a reasonable cost,
+because the young men would be demoralized by my presence.
+
+  _Mrs. Bloggs_. Kate, I am astonished at you! Have I not always
+said that women do not need so much education as men, and ought to keep
+themselves _to_ themselves, and not put themselves forward like
+impudent minxes? What'll men think of you if you go sittin' down on the
+same benches at the colleges, and studyin' off of the same desk, and,
+like enough--for there are girls bold enough for that--out of the same
+books? And what must the professors think women are comin' to when they
+want to learn mathyphysics and metamatics and classical history, and
+such stuff as unfits a woman for her place, and makes her as ignorant of
+household work, managin' servants, bringin' up children, and such like,
+as the greenhorns that some people take from the emigrant sheds, though
+I wouldn't be bothered with such ignoramuses, spoilin' the knives, and
+burnin' the bread, for anythin'?
+
+  _Kate_. Now, mamma, you know we have gone all over this before,
+and shall never agree, because I think that the better educated a woman
+is, the better she can fulfil her home duties, especially in the care
+and management of the health of her family, and the proper training of
+her sons and daughters as good citizens.
+
+  _Mrs. Bloggs_. You put me out of all patience, Kate! For
+goodness' sake get married and be done with it. And that reminds
+me that Harry Gilmour wants you to go to the picnic with him on
+Dominion Day, and to the concert at the Gardens at night; and he
+said you had snubbed him so at Mrs. Gale's that he didn't like to
+speak about it to you without I thought he might. Now, that's what
+I call a real shame, the way you do treat that young man. A risin'
+young lawyer as he is, with no end of lots in Winnipeg, and all the
+money his father made for him up there; comes of a good old family,
+and has the best connections; as may be a member yet, perhaps senator
+some day, and you treat him as if he was quite beneath you. I do hope
+you'll just show a little common sense and accept his invitations.
+
+  _Kate_. Well, mamma, I think the real shame, as you call it, is
+that you, and other ladies, will allow your daughters to go, about to
+picnics, parties, balls, theatres or anywhere else, with any man who
+happens to ask them, and without even so much as a girl-companion, and
+yet you see nothing but impropriety in my desire to attend college,
+where all the opportunity of associating with the other sex is limited
+to a few lectures delivered by grave and reverend Professors, under
+conditions of strict discipline, and at which the whole attention of
+the students must necessarily be concentrated on the subject. As for
+unlimited opportunities for flirting, there are none; and the
+necessities of college life compel each student to attend to his duties
+while within the halls, and then go home; wherever that may be.
+
+  _Mrs. Bloggs_. It's no use talking, Kate, you won't alter my
+opinion. If they'd build another college specially for ladies, as I
+hear the Council is willin' to do, and put it under charge of a lady
+who would look after the girls, I wouldn't object so much, though, as
+I always say, I don't see the need of so much learnin' for women.
+
+  _Kate_. Well, mamma, how much would be gained by a separate
+building? The Council, it is true, offer a piece of ground, within a
+few minutes walk of the college, for a ladies' college, and promise
+to deliver lectures specially "altered to suit the female capacity."
+But if there was an intention of giddiness and flirtation on the part
+of the lady students, how much hindrance do you think the separate
+college would be? And if we can't understand the same lectures as our
+brothers, it is evident we can't understand the same books. Rather a
+hard nut to crack, isn't it?
+
+  _Mrs. Bloggs_. How rude you are, Kate! I am ashamed of you.
+
+                                       [_Exit_ MRS. BLOGGS _in a rage_.
+
+  _Kate_. Poor mamma, she thinks her only child a very _enfant terrible_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 2.--_A lady's bedroom_.
+
+KATE BLOGGS _and her cousin_, ORPHEA BLAGGS, _in conversation_.
+
+  _Orphea_. What will you do, dear?
+
+  _Kate_. A deed without a name!
+A deed will waken me at dead of night!
+A deed whose stony face will stare at me
+With vile grimace, and freeze my curdling blood!
+Will make me quake before the eye of day;
+Shrink from the sun; and welcome fearsome night!
+A deed will chase my trembling steps by ways
+Unknown, through lonely streets, into dark haunts!--
+Will make me tremble if a child observes
+Me close; and quake, if, in a public crowd,
+One glances at me twice!
+A deed I'll blush for, yet I'll do't; and charge
+Its ugliness on those who forced me to't--
+In short, I'll wear the breeks.
+
+  _Orphea_. Oh, Katie! You?
+
+  _Kate_. Yes, me, dear coz.
+
+  _Orphea_. But then your hair, and voice!
+
+  _Kate_. I'll train my voice to mouth out short, thick words,
+As Bosh! Trash! Fudge! Rot! And I'll cultivate
+An Abernethian, self-assertive style,
+That men may think there is a deal more in
+My solid head than e'er comes out.
+My hair I'll cut short off.
+
+        [_She looses down her abundant brown hair, and passes her hands
+          through it caressingly_.
+
+Ah, woman's simple pride! these tresses brown
+Must all be shorn. Like to Godiva fair,
+Whose heart, so true, forgot itself, to serve
+Her suffering kind; I, too, must make
+My hair an offering to my sex; a protest strong
+'Gainst man's oppression.
+Oh, wavy locks, that won my father's praise,
+I must be satisfied to cut ye off,
+And keep ye in a drawer 'till happier times,
+When I again may wear ye as a crown:
+Perchance a bang.
+
+  _Orphea_. 'Twould, perhaps, be best to wear some as moustache.
+
+  _Kate_. The very thing! then whiskers won't be missed.
+
+  _Orphea_. But oh, your mannish garb! How dreadful, Kate!
+
+  _Kate_. True; but it must be done, and you must help.
+
+                                                             [_Exeunt_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+SCENE 3.--_The same room. Evening_.
+
+KATE _alone_.
+
+  _Kate_. Not let me in! We'll see. I'll beat 'em yet.
+To think that down in Canterbury, girls,
+Like my poor self, have had the badge bestowed
+That I so fondly covet. To think that they
+Enjoy the rights I ask, and have received
+The Cambridge University degree, B.A.
+Not only wear the gown and cap
+As college students, but the hood. The hood!
+And shall Macaulay's proud New Zealander
+Thus sit on me? Not if I know it. No!
+I'll don the dreadful clothes, and cheat the Dons.
+
+                                             [_She goes to the window_.
+
+The blinds are down, the shutters closed, the slats
+As well, surely no one can see.
+
+            [_She takes up a man's coat and looks at it, then the vest,
+              then the pants_.
+
+                                 I'll do't!
+
+       [_Invests herself in the masculine apparel. A knock at the door.
+         She starts and turns pale_.
+
+  _A Voice_. Katie, dear!
+
+  _Kate_. Pshaw! 'tis only Orphea!
+
+                                               [_She unlocks the door_.
+
+(_In masculine tones_.) Come in, dear coz.
+
+              [_Attempts to kiss her, but receives a slap in the face_.
+
+  _Orphea_. How dare you, sir! Oh! let me out.
+
+  _Kate (in natural voice)_. Orphea, you goose!
+
+  _Orphea_ Oh, Kate, you did so scare me!
+
+  _Kate_. And is it then a good disguise?
+
+  _Orphea_. 'Tis poor old Tom again.
+
+  _Kate_. But how essay it in the street and hall?
+
+  _Orphea_. Well, there's the gown to help. 'Twill cover all.
+
+  _Kate_. And then the cap? But that I do not mind;
+My Derby hat has used me to a style
+A trifle jaunty, and a hard stiff crown;
+So if my hair prove not too trying
+I yet may like to wear the "mortar-board,"
+If still they wear such things.
+
+  _Orphea_. Oh, Kate, it is an awful risk!
+
+  _Kate_. Awful, my dear; but poor mamma
+Thinks I'm an awful girl.
+If she but knew--
+Yet might I plead that men and women oft
+Have done the same before; poor Joan of Arc;
+Portia; and Rosalind. And I have heard
+That once Achilles donned the woman's garb:
+Then why not I the student's cap and gown?
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+SCENE 1--_A bedroom in a Toronto boarding-house_. KATE BLOGGS _in bed_.
+
+_Enter boarding-house mistress_.
+
+  _Kate_. Yes, nursey, I'll be quick, but mind your words
+And looks, and do not make mistakes.
+
+  _Nurse_. Oh no, Miss Kate--or Mr. Christopher,
+As that's the name you've chose, I'll not mistake.
+
+  _Kate_. And always mind and keep my room,
+My time and liberty, intact, and so
+You'll make it easier for me to obtain
+By surreptitious means, the rights I should
+Enjoy in happier sort.
+
+  _Nurse_. I'll do my best, Miss Kate.
+
+                                                         [_Exit_ Nurse.
+
+  _Kate (in masculine attire, about to descend to the breakfast
+table, turns once more to the mirror)_. Oh, Harberton,
+Hadst thou but taught the world
+The beauty of thy new divided skirt
+Ere I was born, this had not now been thus.
+This blush, that burns my cheek, had long been past;
+These trembling limbs, that blench so from the light,
+Had gotten strength to bear me manfully.
+Oh for the mantling night, when city fathers
+save the gas, and Luna draws her veil!
+
+                                             [_She sits down on a box_.
+
+Away, weak tears!
+I must be brave and show myself a man,
+Nay, more, a student, rollicking and gay.
+Would I could feel so! (_Sniffs at the air_.) Somebody smokes,
+And before breakfast; pah, the nasty things!
+Would I could smoke! They say some women do;
+Drink toddy, too; and I do neither:
+That's not like a man; I'll have to learn.
+But no! my soul revolts; I'll risk it.
+Surely there are among a studious band
+Some who love temperance and godly life.
+That's the crowd I'll join. They will not plunge into
+Those dreadful orgies that the _Globe_ describes,
+Of men half-tight with lager and old rye,
+Who waylay freshmen and immerse them in
+The flowing wave of Taddle,
+_Horrors! Why, I shall be a freshman!_
+If they touch me I'll scream! ah--ha, I'll scream!
+Scream, and betray my sex? No, that won't do;
+At Rome I'll have to be a Roman;
+And, to escape that dread ordeal, I
+Shall cringe and crawl, and in the presence of
+A fourth year man step soft and bow,
+And smile if he but condescend to nod.
+Oh, yes, I'll do't. In tableaux once I played
+Uriah Heep, and made the character
+So "'umble" and so crawly, that for days
+I loathed my hands, and slapped my fingers well
+For having knuckles.
+Thus will I to the tyrant play the slave.
+An old antithesis.
+
+                                         [_Some one calls at the door_.
+
+                   Yes, yes, I'm coming, Hannah.
+Now for that dreaded step yclept the first,
+Pray Heaven it may cost most; but that I doubt.
+
+                                    [_Descends to the breakfast table_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+SCENE 1.--_The same as Scene 2, Act I_.
+
+MISS ORPHEA BLAGGS _solus, reading a letter_.
+
+  _Orphea (reading)_--
+
+"My Dearest Orphea--Congratulate me! me, your cousin, Tom Christopher,
+M.A., Gold Medallist.--Mathematics, and also Natural Sciences; Honours
+in Classics, and Prizeman in German again. You cannot think how queer I
+feel with all my blushing honours thick upon me, and more to come.
+Tuesday! my dear Orphea, Tuesday! Only think of it, Master of Arts, or
+more correctly Mistress of Arts! Now let the New Zealanders boast, and
+the Cambridge girls bite their tongues, Canada has caught them up! Ah,
+my dear Orphea, that is the drop of gall in the cup of your successful
+cousin--the Canterbury Antipodeans got their honours _first_. It
+reminds me of the saying that the nearer to church the farther from
+heaven, since it is evidently the nearer to the centre of civilization
+the farther from a University Degree, so far as we unfortunate women are
+concerned. But never mind! I've proved that Canadian girls are equal in
+mental power with Canadian boys, and I am only impatient to let the Dons
+know it.
+
+"And now, my love, for the conclusion of the two years' farce. It has
+cost me a whole week's sleep to sketch a plan by which to declare my sex
+in the most becoming manner to my fellow students.
+
+"Do you know, dear, when I look back upon the pleasures of the past two
+years--how soon we forget the pain!--I am not inclined to regret the
+step rendered necessary by my devotion to my sex, for use has made me
+quite at home in the--ah--divided skirt! How many lovely girls have I
+danced with through the rosy hours who will never more smile on me as
+they were wont to smile! How many flowers of rhetoric have been wasted
+on me by the irony of fate! How many _billets-doux_, so perfumed
+and pretty, lie in my desk addressed to my nether garment! And how many
+mammas have encouraged Mr. Christopher, who will forever taboo Miss
+Bloggs! And then the parties and the picnics! Ah, my dear Orphea, what
+do I not sacrifice on the altar of my sex. But a truce to regrets.
+
+"I am longing to see the elegant costume in which I shall appear before
+the astonished eyes of the multitude as Miss Bloggs, M.A.
+
+"You know my style, the latest out, which I find by the fashion books is
+Mignonette trimmed with Chinese Pheasant. Buttons up the back of the
+sleeves, with rubies and amethysts. Let the fichu be Eidelweiss; trim
+the fan and slippers with the same, and use dandelions and calla lilies
+for the bouquets. Not a button less than forty on the gloves, and don't
+forget my hair.
+
+"Get yourself up to match by contrast, and come and help me make a
+sensation.
+
+"The dinner is on the _tapis_. Webb will be caterer, Sells will
+supply the cider; Shapter and Jeffery the Zoedone, and I have entered
+into a contract with the Toronto Water Works for pure water on this
+occasion only. I have bought up every flower in Toronto, so that if the
+tariff does not prevent it, other folks will have to import their own
+roses; and I have engaged every boy in the public schools who has
+nothing better to do next Saturday to go to Lome Park and bring back as
+many maiden-hairs as he can find. Ferns are my craze, as you know, and I
+am quite a crank on maiden-hair, which I mean to adopt for my crest with
+"If she will, she will," as a motto. Ever your own,
+
+"KATE."
+
+A merry letter truly.
+                      I'll to the dressmaker.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+SCENE 1.--_A boarding-house dining-room richly decorated with flowers
+and plants. Twenty gentlemen, among whom is_ Mr. Tom Christopher, _each
+accompanying a lady, one of whom is_ Miss Blaggs. _The cloth is drawn,
+and dessert is on the table_.
+
+  _Mr. Biggs, B.A. (Tor. Univer.), on his feet_.
+
+  Ah--ladies and gentlemen, here's to our host,
+  And rising, as thus, to propose him a toast,
+    I think of the days which together
+  In shade, and in sunshine, as chums we have passed,
+  In love, and esteem, that forever must last,
+    Let happen what will to the weather.
+
+
+In short, ladies and gentlemen, I have to propose the everlasting health
+and welfare of our host, who should have been our honoured guest but for
+that persistent pertinacity he exhibited in the matter, and which he
+does himself the injustice to call womanish. But I am sure, ladies and
+gentlemen, no one but himself ever accused our esteemed host of being
+womanish, and when we look upon the high standing he has achieved in our
+University, the honour he confers on his Alma Mater by his scholarly
+attainments and the gentlemanly character he has won among all sorts of
+students, I am sure, ladies and gentlemen, we should be doing great
+injustice to you all were we for one moment to admit that he could be
+other than he is, an honour to Toronto University, and a credit to his
+sex. I am quite sure the ladies are at this moment envying the happy
+woman whom he will at no distant date probably distinguish with his
+regard, and it must be satisfactory to ourselves, gentlemen, to know
+that it lies in our power, as the incumbents of academic honours, to be
+able to bestow that reversion of them on those who, having all the world
+at their feet, need not sigh for the fugitive conquests that demand
+unceasing toil and an unlimited amount of gas or coal-oil. Ladies and
+gentlemen, I call upon you to fill your sparkling glasses to the honour
+of our host and college chum, Mr. Tom Christopher. And here's with a
+hip, hip, hooray! and hands all round!
+
+  _All_.--Hip, hip! Hurrah!
+
+     [_Tremendous cheering and clinking of glasses. Several are broken,
+       and the excitement consequently subsides_.
+
+  _Mr. Tom Christopher_.--Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you much.
+For these your loving words. A third year man,
+I came upon you fresh from nowhere;
+This in itself a warranty for cold
+And hard suspicion; but you received
+Me with some warmth, and made me one of you,
+Chaffed me, and sat on me, and lent me books.
+And offered pipes, and made inquiries kind
+About my sisters; and Time, who takes
+Men kindly by the hand, made us warm friends,
+And knit us in a love all brotherly.
+
+  _Many Voices_.--Yes, brothers! brothers! we are brothers all!
+
+  _A Voice_.--And sisters!
+
+  _Mr. Tom_.--I would say sisters too, but that I fear
+My lady guests would think I did presume;
+But yet I know, and knowing it am proud,
+That most men here to-night would welcome all
+The sweet girl-graduates that would fill the list
+Did but the College Council set aside
+A foolish prejudice, and let them in.
+And now, I know a girl who long has worked
+To pass the exams, take the proud degree
+I hold to-day, and yet her petticoat
+Forbade.
+
+  _Several Voices_.--Name! Name! A toast! A toast!
+
+  _Mr. Tom_.--I will not name her, gentlemen, but bring
+Her to your presence, if you so incline;
+First begging that you will not let surprise
+Oust self-possession, for my friend's a girl
+Of timid temper, though she's bold to act
+If duty calls.
+
+  _Many Voices_.--Your friend! Your friend!
+
+  _Mr. Tom_.--I go to fetch her, gentlemen; dear ladies all,
+I beg your suffrages of gentle eyes
+And kindly smile to greet my guest.
+
+                                           [_Exit_ MR. TOM CHRISTOPHER.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SCENE 2.--_The same_.
+
+_Enter_ MISS KATE BLOGGS _in full dinner toilet of Reseda silk,
+and carrying a dandelion and lily bouquet_.
+
+
+  _Miss Blaggs_.--My cousin! oh, my cousin!
+
+   [_Rushes excitedly forward and falls into hysterics on_ Miss BLOGGS'
+    _neck. The company gather round in great surprise_.
+
+  _Miss B_.--Dear Orphea! Orphea, my dear! oh, water, gentlemen!
+Lay her upon the couch. See! see! she gasps!
+Orphea, dear girl!
+
+     [_The ladies are much alarmed, but Miss BLAGGS soon gives signs of
+       recovery, and sits up_.
+
+  _Orphea (in tears)_.--Oh, Kate! it struck me so to see you once
+again as you were wont to be; those nasty ugly pants
+forever gone, and you a girl again.
+
+  _Kate_.--Dear friends, you look surprised.
+Pray Heaven you'll not look worse when you know all.
+I am indeed a girl, though you have known
+Me hitherto as Thomas Christopher.
+Four years ago I passed the exams, for
+Us women, at your University.
+Once more I passed. But when again I would,
+I stumbled for the teaching that is chained--
+Like ancient scripture to the reading desk--
+Within your College walls. No word of mine
+Could move the flinty heads of College Council.
+Order and discipline forbade, they said,
+That women should sit-side by side with men
+Within their walls. At church, or concert, or
+At theatre, or ball, no separation's made
+Of sexes. And so I, being a girl
+Of firm and independent mind, resolved
+To do as many a one beside has done
+For lesser prize, and, as a man, sat at
+The feet of our Gamaliels until I got
+The learning that I love. That I may now
+Look you all in the face without a blush, save--that
+Which naturally comes at having thus
+To avow my hardihood, is praise, I trow,
+You will not think unworthy; and to me
+It forms a soft remembrance that will ever dwell
+Within my grateful heart.
+Can you forgive me?
+
+  _Many Voices_.--We do, we must. All honour to the brave!
+Speak for us, Biggs.
+
+  _Mr. Biggs_.--I cannot speak, except to ask the lady's pardon
+For our rough ways.
+
+  _Kate_.--No; pardon me.
+
+  _Many Voices_.--No! no! we ask your pardon.
+
+  _Kate_.--If that, indeed, as I must need believe
+From all your looks, you do not blame me much,
+Endue me with a favour. It is this:--
+Let every man and woman here to-night
+Look out for those petitions that will soon
+Be placed in many a store by those our friends
+Who in this city form a ladies' club,
+And each one sign. Nay more, to show you mean
+What I, with swelling heart have often heard
+You strongly urge, the rights of women to
+The College privileges, get all your friends
+To sign. Do what your judgment charges you
+To help so good a cause, and let the lists
+Of 1883 have no more names
+Set by themselves as women. Let us go
+In numbrous strength before the Parliament,
+And ask our rights in such a stirring sort,
+They shall be yielded. Then I shall know
+Your brotherly and pleasant words mean faith,
+And shall no more regret a daring act
+That else will fail of reason.
+May I thus trust?
+
+  _All_.--You may! You may.
+
+  _Kate_.--Then hands all round, my friends, till break of day.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+FABLES:
+
+ORIGINAL AND FROM THE FRENCH.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CHOICE.
+
+
+As fragrant essences from summer flowers,
+Steal, on aerial pinions, to the sense,
+So, on the viewless wing of rumour, sped
+A word that set the aviary on flame.
+"To-morrow comes the Prince," it said, "to choose
+A bird of gifts will grace the royal bower."
+O then began a fluttering and a fume--
+A judging each of all! Pert airs and speech
+Flew thick as moulted feathers. Little heads
+Were tossed in lofty pride, or in disdain
+Were turned aside. For each bird deemed his own
+The merits that would charm. One only sang
+To-day his daily song, nor joined the crowd
+In envious exultation. To him spoke
+Another of his kind. "Vain one, refrain
+That everlasting pipe, fit for a cage
+Behind some cotter's lattice, where thy gray
+And thickset form may shun the cultured eye.
+A word of warning, too--hide from the Prince."
+"Dear brother," cried the gray, "be not annoyed;
+Who sees your elegance of form, and depth
+Of perfect colour, ne'er will notice me."
+The morrow came,--the Prince. Each bird essayed
+To please the royal taste, and many a meed
+Of praise was won and given--this for his hue;--
+That for his elegance;--another for
+His fascinating grace. Yet something lacked,
+'Twas evident, and many an anxious glance
+Betrayed the latent fear.
+                          "Yon little bird
+In quiet gray and green courts not my praise,
+Yet should a singer be," exclaimed the Prince,
+As with a critical and searching eye
+He scanned the small competitors for choice.
+Obedient to his governor, the bird
+Poured forth his song, oblivious of the crowd
+Of vain and envious round him, in whose eyes
+He stood contemptible. The Prince, entranced,
+Broke forth at length: "Nor hue, nor elegance,
+Nor fascination, can outvie the gift
+Of genius. My choice is made."
+                     And to the great offence
+Of one bright bird, at least, the humble gray
+Became the royal treasure.
+
+
+
+
+INSINCERITY.
+
+
+Tired of the narrow limits her assigned,
+Truth fled the earth; and men were fain to grope
+In utter darkness. Blindly they blundered,
+And were long distraught, till on the horizon rose
+A luminosity, and in its midst
+A form. They cried, "'Tis Truth! fair Truth returned!'
+And though the light seemed dim, the form but faint
+To that of other days, they worshipped it,
+And all things went along much as at first.
+Until, born none knew whence, a doubt arose;
+Grew strong; and spake; and pondering, men began
+To quest their goddess' claim. Then, too, was set
+A secret watch, a covert test for proof;
+And one fine day there rose a clamour, such
+As cheated mobs will make, when cunning puts
+A veto on their claim.
+For this mob found that, in her stolen guise
+Of softer beams, they had adored a cheat;
+A make-believe; a lie.
+Immense their rage! One aim inspired them all--
+To punish. But while they swayed and tossed
+In wrathful argument on just desert,
+Fair Truth indeed appeared, clad in her robes
+Of glorious majesty. "Desist, my friends,"
+She cried; "the executioner condign
+Of Insincerity, and your avenger,
+Is Time, my faithful henchman."
+
+
+
+
+THE TWO TREES.
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF P. LE MAY.
+
+
+Two trees, amid whose leafy shade
+The warbling birds their vigils paid,
+Stood neighbours--each as noble tree
+In height and girth as one might see.
+The one, sequestered in the vale,
+All sheltered from the boisterous gale,
+Had passed his days in soft repose;
+The other from the cliff arose,
+And bore the brunt of stormy wind
+That lashed him oft in frenzy blind.
+
+A day there happed when from the north
+Aquilon drave his forces forth,
+And hurled them headlong on the rock
+Where, proudly poised to meet the shock,
+Our bold tree stood. In gallant might,
+He took the gage of proffered fight,
+And though in every fibre wrung,
+Kept every fibre still upstrung.
+
+"Thou tremblest!" cried the sheltered tree,
+"Thine own the folly! Come to me.
+Here no wild tempest rocks our boughs--
+Scarce may it bend our haughty brows--
+Scarce may a breeze our branches kiss--
+From every harm a shelter this."
+
+No word replied the storm-tried tree,
+But, wrestling for the mastery,
+He bowed and straightened, writhed and shook,
+And firmer of the rock he took
+A tightening clutch with grip of steel,
+Nor once the storm-fiend made him reel;
+And when his weary foe passed by,
+Still towered he proudly to the sky.
+
+Then through the vale the winged blast
+For the first time in fury passed,
+As through ripe grain the sickles go,
+Widespread he scattered fear and woe;
+Prone fell the tree--so safe before--
+'Mid ruin dire, to rise no more.
+
+He cannot fall who knows to fight
+With stern adversity aright.
+But soon is laid the victim low,
+That knows not how to ward a blow.
+
+
+
+
+FABLE AND TRUTH.
+
+
+Simply attired in Nature's strictest garb,
+Fair Truth emerged from out her sheltering well;
+But Time so many of her charms had touched
+That age and youth before her presence fled:
+And no asylum showed an open door
+Of welcome to the waif of shivering limb.
+Sudden upon her sight a vision breaks--
+Gay Fable richly robed, and pranked withal
+In plumes and jewels--mostly false 'tis true,
+But bright enough. "Ah, is it you, my friend?
+How do?" quo' she, "but why upon the road.
+"And all alone?"
+                 "You see I freeze," says Truth,
+"And yet of those who pass I but implore
+A simple shelter, but I frighten them.
+Alas! I see an aged woman gains
+But small consideration!"
+                          "Younger than I,"
+Saith Fable, "are you? Yet I may aver,
+Without conceit, that everywhere
+I am received with joy. But Mistress Truth,
+Why did you brave the light in such scant robe?
+'Twas most ill-judged. Come, let's arrange for both,
+Since the same end is aim for me as you;
+Get 'neath my cloak, and we'll together walk.
+Thus, for your sake, I shall not by the wise
+Be buffeted; and for my sake, you shall
+Be well received among the simpler sort.
+Thus every one his proper taste may suit,
+And by these means each shall her end attain,
+Thanks to your sense, and my amusing speech.
+And you will see, my sister, everywhere
+We shall be well received, in company."--_Florian_.
+
+
+
+
+THE CALIPH.
+
+
+In ancient days the Caliph Almamon
+A palace built in Bagdad, fairer far
+Than was the vaunted house of Solomon.
+The portico a hundred columns graced
+Of purest alabaster. Gold and blue
+And jasper formed the rich mosaic floor.
+Ceiled with the fragrant cedar, suites of rooms
+Displayed a wealth of sculpture; treasures rare
+In art and nature vied; fair flowers and gems,
+Perfumes and scented myrtles; verdure soft
+And piercing lustre; past the embroidered couch
+The gushing fountains rolled on dancing wave.
+And beauty reigned o'er all.
+Near this abode, but just beyond the gate,
+A simple cottage stood, old and dilapidate,
+The home of a poor weaver. There, content
+With little gain procured by labour long,
+Without a debt and thus beyond a care,
+The old man lived, forgotten perhaps, but free.
+His days all peaceful softly wore away
+And he nor envied was, nor envying.
+As hath been told, his small and mean retreat,
+Just masked the palace gates. The Grand Vizier
+Would pull it down, without formality
+Of law, or word of grace. More just his lord
+Commands to buy it first. To hear is to obey;
+They seek the weaver's bearing bags of gold;
+"These shalt thou have."
+                         "No; keep your lordly sum,
+My workshop yields my needs," responds the man,
+"And for my house, I have no wish to sell;
+Here was I born, and here my father died:
+And here would I die too. The Caliph may,
+Should he so will, force me to leave the place
+And pull my cottage down, but should he so
+Each day would find me seated on the stone
+The last that's left, weeping my misery.
+I know Almamon's heart; 'twill pity me."
+This bold reply the Vizier's choler raised;
+He would the rascal punish, and at once
+Pull down the sorry hut. Not so the Caliph:
+"No; while it stands my glory lives," saith he,
+"My treasure shall be taxed to make it whole;
+And of my reign it shall be monument;
+For when my heirs shall this fair palace mark
+They shall exclaim 'How great was Almamon!'
+And when yon cottage 'Almamon was just!'"--_Florian_.
+
+
+
+
+THE BLIND MAN AND THE PARALYTIC.
+
+
+Kindly let us help each other,
+  Lighter will our burden lie,
+For the good we do our brother
+  Is a solace pure and high,--
+So Confucius to his people,
+  To his friends, the wise Chinese,
+Oft affirmed, and to persuade them,
+  Told them stories such as these:--
+
+In an Asiatic city
+  Dwelt two miserable men,--
+Misery knows nor clime nor country,
+  Haunts alike the dome or den--
+Blind the one, the other palsied,
+  Each so poor he prayed for death;
+Yet he lived, his invocations
+  Seeming naught but wasted breath.
+On his wretched mattress lying,
+  In the busy public square,
+See the wasted paralytic
+  Suffering more that none doth care.
+
+Butt for everybody's humour,
+  Gropes the blind his devious way,
+Guide, nor staff, nor helper has he,
+  To supply the light's lost ray;
+E'en a poor dog's willing service,
+  Love, and guidance are denied;
+Till one day his groping finds him
+  By the paralytic's side.
+There he hears the sufferer's moaning,
+  And his very soul is moved.
+He's the truest sympathizer
+  Who, like sorrow, erst has proved.
+
+"I have, sorrows, thou hast others,
+  Brother, let us join our woes,
+And their rigours will be softened,"
+  Thus the blind began propose.
+"Ah, my friend, thou little knowest
+  That a step I cannot take;
+Thou art blind; what should we gain then
+  Of two burdens one to make?"
+"Why, now, brother, see how lucky,
+  'Twixt us both is all we lack:
+Thou hast eyes, be thou the guide then,
+  Thee I'll carry on my back;
+Thus without unfriendly question
+  As to which bears heaviest load,
+I will walk for thee, and thou, friend,
+  Choose for me the smoothest road."--_Florian_.
+
+
+
+
+DEATH.
+
+
+On a set day, fell Death, queen of the world,--
+In hell assembled all her fearful court
+That 'mongst them she might choose a minister
+Would render her estate more flourishing.
+As candidates for the dread office came,
+With measured strides, from Tartarus' lowest depth,
+Fever, and Gout, and War--a trio
+To whose gifts all earth and hell bare witness--
+The queen reception gave them.
+                               Then came Plague,
+And none his claims and merit might deny.
+Still, when a doctor paid his visit, too,
+Opinion wavered which would win the day.
+Nor could Queen Death herself at once decide.
+But when the Vices came her choice fell quick--
+She chose Excess.--_Florian_.
+
+
+
+
+THE HOUSE OF CARDS.
+
+
+How softly glide Philemon's happy days
+Within the cot where once his father dwelt
+Peaceful as he!
+Here with his gentle wife and sturdy boys,
+In rural quietude, he tills his farm;
+Gathers his harvest, or his garden tends.
+Here sweet domestic joys together shared
+Crown every evening, whether 'neath the trees
+The smiling summer draws the table forth:
+Or round the cosy hearth the winter cold
+With crackling faggot blazing makes their cheer.
+Here do the careful parents ever give
+Counsels of virtuous knowledge to their sons.
+The father with a story points his speech,
+The mother with a kiss.
+Of different tastes, the boys: the elder one,
+Grave, studious, reads and thinks the livelong day;
+The younger, sprightly, gay, and graceful, too,
+Leaps, laughs incessant, and in games delights.
+One evening, as their wont, at father's side,
+And near a table where their mother sewed,
+The elder Rollin read. The younger played:
+Small care had he for Rome's ambitious deeds,
+Or Parthian prowess; his whole mind was set
+To build a house of cards, his wit sharp-drawn
+To fit the corners neatly. He, nor speaks,
+Nor scarce may breathe, so great his anxious care.
+But suddenly the reader's voice is heard
+Self-interrupting: "Papa, pray tell me why
+Some warriors are called Conquerors, and some
+The Founders, of an Empire? What doth make
+The points of difference in the simple terms?"
+In careful thought the father sought reply:
+When, radiant with delight, his younger son,
+After so much endeavour, having placed
+His second stage, cries out, "Tis done!" But he,
+The elder, harshly chides his brother's glee,
+Strikes the frail tenement, and so destroys
+The fruits of patient toil: The younger weeps:
+And then the father thus: "Oh, my dear son,
+Thy brother is the Founder of a realm,
+Thou the fell Conqueror."--_Florian_.
+
+
+
+
+THE BULLFINCH AND THE RAVEN.
+
+
+In separate cages hung, the same kind roof
+Sheltered a bullfinch and a raven bold,
+The one with song mellifluous charmed the house;
+The other's cries incessant wearied all.
+With loud hoarse voice he screamed for bread and meat
+And cheese; the which they quickly brought, in hope
+To stop thereby his brawling tongue.
+                                     The finch
+Did nought but sing, and never bawled and begged;
+So they forgot him. Oft the pretty bird
+Nor food nor water had, and they who praised
+His song the loudest took the smallest care
+To fill his fount. And yet they loved him well,
+But thought not on his needs.
+One day they found him dead within his cage,
+"Ah, horror! and he sang so well!" they cry,
+"What can it be he died of? 'Tis, indeed
+A dreadful pity."
+The raven still screamed on, and nothing lacked.--_Florian_.
+
+
+
+
+THE WASP AND THE BEE.
+
+
+Within the chalice of a flower
+A bee "improved the shining hour,"
+Whom, when she saw, a wasp draw near,
+And sought to gain the fair one's ear,
+With tender praise: "Oh, sister mine--
+(For love and trust that name entwine)"
+But ill it pleased the haughty bee,
+Who answered proudly: "Sisters!--we?
+Since when, I pray you, dates the tie?"
+With angry warmth the wasp's reply
+Came fuming forth--"Life-long, indeed.
+In semblant points all eyes may read
+The fact.  Observe me if you please.
+Your wings, are they not such as these?
+Mine is your figure, mine your waist,
+And if you used with proper taste
+Your sting, as I do, we agree
+In that."
+          "'Tis true," replies the bee,
+"Each bears a weapon; in its use
+The difference lies. For fierce abuse,
+And insolence your dart doth serve.
+Mine gives the chastisement that these deserve,
+And while you irritate your dearest friend;
+I take good heed myself, but to defend."--_Florian_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+TRANSLATIONS
+
+
+
+
+
+A MEMORY OF THE HEROES OF 1760.
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF P. LE MAY.
+
+
+O ye who tread with heedless feet
+  This dust once laid with heroes' blood,
+A moment turn your backward glance
+  To years of dread inquietude:
+When wars disturbed our peaceful fields;
+  When mothers drew a sobbing breath;
+When the great river's hilly marge
+  Resounded with a cry of death.
+
+Then, full of fire, the heroes sprang
+  To save our heritage and laws.
+They conquered! 'twas a holiday.
+  Alas, the last in such a cause!
+Bloody and shamed, the flag of France
+  Perforce recrossed the widening seas;
+The sad Canadian mourned his hopes,
+  And cherished bitter memories.
+
+But noble he despite his woe!
+  Before his lords he proudly bends,
+Like some tall oak that storms may shake,
+  And bow, but never, never rend.
+And oft he dreams a happy dream,
+  And sees a flag, with lilies sown,
+Come back whence comes the rising Sun,
+  To float o'er landscapes all his own.
+
+Oh when the south wind on its wings
+  Bears to his ear strange sounds afar,
+To him they seem the solemn chant
+  Of triumph after clam'rous war.
+Those echoes weird of gallant strife
+  E'en stir the coffined warrior-dead,
+As stirs a nation's inmost heart
+  At some proud pageant nobly led.
+
+O France, once more 'neath Western skies,
+  We see thy standards proudly wave!
+And Mexico's high ramparts fall
+  Before thy squadrons, true and brave.
+Peace shalt thou to the land restore;
+  For fetters shalt give back the crown;
+And with thy shining sword shalt hurl
+  The base usurper from the throne.
+
+Hear ye, how in their ancient urns
+  The ashes of our heroes wake?
+Thus greet they ye, fair sons of morn,
+  For this their solemn silence break.
+They greet ye, whose renown hath reached
+  Past star on star to highest heaven!
+Ye on whose brow their halo sits,
+  To ye their altar shall be given!
+
+Arise, immortal phalanxes,
+  Who fell upon a glorious day!
+Your century of mourning weeds
+  Posterity would take away.
+Arise and see! our woods and fields
+  No longer nourish enemies!
+Whom once ye fought are brothers now,
+  One law around us throws its ties.
+
+And who shall dare our homesteads touch,
+  That for our heritage ye gave:--
+And who shall drive us from the shores
+  To which your blood the verdure gave?--
+E'en they shall find the oppressed will rise
+  More powerful for the foe withstood;
+And ever for such heinous crime
+  Shall pay the forfeit with their blood.
+
+Ye, our defenders in the past,
+  Your names are still a household word!
+In childhood's ear old age recounts
+  The toils your hardy youth endured.
+And on the field of victory
+  Hath gratitude your memory graved!
+In during brass your story lives
+  A glory to the centuries saved!
+
+
+
+
+THE SONG OF THE CANADIAN VOLTIGEURS.
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF P. LE MAY.
+
+
+Our country insulted
+Demands quick redress.
+To arms, Voltigeurs!
+To the struggle we press.
+From vict'ry to vict'ry,
+Brave, righteous, and just,
+Ours the mem'ries that cling to
+Our forefathers' dust.
+
+Defend we our farm-lands,
+Our half-crumbled walls!
+Defend we our sweethearts,
+Our hearths and our halls!
+Our dear native tongue,
+Our faith keep we free!
+Defend we our life,
+For a people are we!
+
+No rulers know we, save
+Our time-honoured laws!
+And woe to the nation
+That sneers at our cause.
+Our fields and our furrows,
+Our woods and our streams,
+Should their columns invade,
+Shall entomb their vain dreams!
+
+To our foes, the perfidious,
+Be war to the knife.
+Intrepid, yet duteous,
+We leap to the strife.
+More terrible shewing
+In danger's red hour;
+We know to avenge,
+And unbroken our power.
+
+List the thunderous roar
+As the shot rushes by!
+To our war-song heroic,
+The chorus of joy.
+At the ring of the musket
+To the battle we fly;
+Come! come to the field,
+See us conquer or die.
+
+What! we become slaves
+To an alien foe?
+We bear their vile trammels?
+Our answer is, No!
+Assistance shall reach us
+From heaven's lucent arch:
+Come! seize we our muskets
+And "double-quick march!"
+
+
+
+
+THE LEGEND OF THE EARTH.
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF JEAN RAMEAU.
+
+[The Prize Poem in the Christmas (1885) Number of the Paris
+_Figaro_, translated for the _Week_.]
+
+
+When the Creator had laid out the deeps,
+The great illimitable fields of sad-eyed space,
+A weighty bag upon His neck He threw,
+Whence issued sound confused of huddled stars;
+
+And, plunging in the sack His mighty hand,
+He traversed all the ether's wondrous plain
+With slow and measured step, as doth a sower,
+Sowing the gloomy void with many suns.
+
+He tossed them--tossed them--some in fantastic groups,
+And some in luminous; some terrible.
+And 'neath the Sower's steps, whose grain was stars,
+The furrows of the sky, ecstatic, smoked.
+
+He tossed them--tossed them--out of His whirling hand,
+Plenteous in every place, by full broad casts
+Measured to rhythmic beat; and golden stars
+Flew o'er the wide expanse like firefly swarms.
+
+"Away! away!" cried He of worlds the Sower:
+"Away, ye stars! spring in the wastes of heaven;
+Broider its purple fields with your fair gems;
+Tuneful, elated, gladsome, take your course.
+
+"Go, wave of fire, into a darksome night,
+And there make joy, and there the pleasant day!
+And launch into the depths immeasurable
+Quick, quivering darts of glowing light and love!
+
+"I will that all within your bounds shall shine,
+Be glad, be prosperous, happy, blest, content,
+Shall sing for ever 'Glory be to Thee,
+Creator, Father, Sower, who with suns
+                               Hast filled infinity!'"
+
+Thus He dismissed the stars, weighted with life,
+Careering round their calm Creator's feet
+As, in a desert place July has scorched,
+The grains of sand may cloud the traveller's steps.
+
+And glittered all, and sang; and, hindered not,
+Upon their axes turned, constant and sure;
+Their million million voices, strong and deep,
+Bursting in great hosannas to the skies.
+
+And all was happiness and right, beauty and strength;
+And every star heard all her radiant sons
+With songs of love ensphere her mother-breast;
+And all blessed Life. And blessed the Highest Heaven.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Now, when His bag of stars he had deplete,
+When all the dark with orbs of fire was strown,
+The Sower found at bottom, 'twixt two folds,
+A little bit of shining sun, chipped off.
+
+And wondering, knowing not what sphere unknown
+Revolved in crimson space all incomplete,
+The great Creator, at a puff, spun off
+This tiny bit of sun far into space;
+
+Then, mounting high up to His scarlet throne,
+Beyond the mist of thickly scattered worlds,
+Like a great crowned king whose proud eye burns
+At hearing from afar His people's voice,
+                                         He listens,
+
+And He hears
+          The mighty Alleluia of the stars,
+The choirs of glowing spheres in whirling flood
+Of song and high apotheosis,
+All surging to His feet in incense clouds.
+
+He sees eternity with rapture thrilled;
+He sees in one prolonged diapason
+The organ of the universe, vehement, roll
+For ever songs of praise to Him, the Sower.
+
+But suddenly He pales.  From starry seas
+A smothered cry mounts to the upper skies;
+It rises, swells, grows strong; prevailing o'er
+All the ovation of the joyful spheres.
+
+From that dim atom of the chipped orb
+It comes; from wretches left forsaken, sad,
+Who weep the Mother-star, incessant sought
+And never found from that gray point of sky.
+
+And the cry said "Cursed! Cursed are we, the lost
+By misery led, a wretched pallid flock,
+Made for the light and tossed into the dark!
+
+"We are the banished ones; the exile band;
+The only race whose eyes are filled with tears.
+And if the waters of our seas be salt,
+'Twas our forefathers tears that made them so.
+
+"Be He Anathema, the Sower of Light!
+Be He Anathema whom worlds adore!--
+If to our native star He join us not
+Be He accursed, through all creation cursed, for aye!"
+
+Then rose the God from His great scarlet throne,
+And gentle, moved, weeping as we, He stretched
+His two bright arms over the flat expanse,
+And in a voice of thunder launched reply:--
+
+"Morsel of Sun, calling thyself the Earth:--
+Chrysalides on her grey bounds supine:--
+Humanity--sing! for I give you Death,
+The Comforter, he who shall lead you back
+       Safe to your Star of Light,
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+And this is why--lofty, above mishap,
+The Poet, made for stars of molten gold,
+Spurns earth; his eyes; fixed on the glowing heavens,
+Toward which he soon shall take his freer flight.
+
+
+
+
+THE EMIGRANT MOUNTAINEER.
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF CHATEAUBRIAND.
+
+
+How doth fond memory oft return
+To that fair spot where I was born!
+My sister, those were happy days
+          In lovely France.
+O, country mine, my latest gaze
+          Shall turn to France!
+
+Remember'st thou with what fond pride,
+Our lowly cottage hearth beside,
+She clasped us to her gladsome breast--
+          Our dearest mother;
+While on her hair so white, we pressed
+          Kisses, together?
+
+My sister, canst thou not recall
+Dore, that bathed the castle wall,
+And that old Moorish tower, war-worn
+          And grey,
+From whence the gong struck out each morn
+          The break of day.
+
+The tranquil lake doth mem'ry bring,
+Where swallows poised on lightest wing;
+The breeze by which the supple reed
+          Was bent,--
+The setting sun whose glory filled
+          The firmament?
+
+Rememberest thou that tender wife,
+Dearest companion of my life?
+While gathering wild flowers in the grove
+          So sweet,
+Heart clung to heart, and Helen's love
+          Flew mine to meet.
+
+O give my Helen back to me,
+My mountain, and my old oak tree!
+Memory and pain, where'er I rove,
+          Entwine,
+Dear country, with my heart's deep love
+          Around thy shrine.
+
+
+
+
+FROM "LIGHTS AND SHADES."
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO.
+
+
+When on the cliff, or in the wood
+  I muse the summer evening by,
+And realize the woes of life,
+  I contemplate Eternity.
+
+And through my shadow-chequered lot
+  GOD meets my earnest, gazing eye;
+As through the dusk of tangled boughs
+  We catch bright glimpses of the sky.
+
+Yes, when, at last Death claims her own,
+  The spirit bursts the bonds of sense,
+And--like a nestling--in the tomb
+  Finds pinions that shall bear her thence.
+
+
+
+
+VILLANELLE TO ROSETTE
+
+FROM THE FRENCH OF PHILIPPE DEPORTES, SIXTEENTH CENTURY.
+
+
+In my absence, though so short,
+You, Rosette, had changed your mind:
+Learning your inconstancy,
+I, another mistress find.
+Never more shall charms so free
+Gain ascendancy o'er me.
+    We shall see, oh light Rosette,
+    Which of us will first regret.
+
+While with tears I pine away,
+Cursing separation drear;
+You, who love by force of wont,
+Took another for your dear.
+Never vane all lightly hung,
+To the wind more swiftly swung.
+    We shall see, oh vain Rosette,
+    Which of us will first regret.
+
+Where are all those sacred vows,--
+All those tears at parting wept?
+Can it be those mournful plaints
+Came from heart so lightly kept?
+Heavens, that you so false could be!
+Who shall trust you, cursed is he.
+    We shall see, oh false Rosette,
+    Which of us will first regret.
+
+He who to my place has climbed,
+Ne'er can love you more than I;
+And in beauty, love, and faith,
+You're surpassed I own with joy.
+Guard your new love lest he range,
+Mine, the darling, knows not change.
+    Thus we put to proof, Rosette,
+    Which of us will first regret.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+NOTES.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812
+
+A DRAMA.
+
+
+NOTE 1, page 11.
+
+The simple heroic story thus enlarged into dramatic form is not unknown
+to the Canadian muse, but has been sung by several of her votaries,
+notably by Miss Machar, of Kingston; Mr. John Reade, of Montreal;
+and Dr. Jakeway, of Stayner.
+
+Dr. Jakeway's verse is not so well known as it deserves to be, not only
+for its literary merit, but also for its patriotic fervour, the fervour
+of a true and loyal Canadian: I shall therefore be pardoned if I quote
+the closing stanzas of his "Laura Secord":
+
+  "Braver deeds are not recorded,
+  In historic treasures hoarded,
+    Than the march of Laura Secord through the forest, long ago.
+  And no nobler deed of daring
+  Than the cool and crafty snaring,
+    By that band at Beaver Dam, of all the well-appointed foe.
+
+  But we know if war should ever
+  Boom again o'er field and river.
+    And the hordes of the invader should appear within our land,
+  Far and wide the trumpets pealing.
+  Would awake the same old feeling.
+    And again would deeds of daring sparkle out on every hand."
+
+
+NOTE 2, page 12.
+
+  And Stony Creek was ours.
+
+
+A 49th man thus writes to Auchinleck, p. 178:--"Sir,--To your, account
+of the battle of Stony Creek I would like to add a few particulars. At
+eleven o'clock at night the Light Company and Grenadiers of the 49th
+were under arms; every flint was taken out and every charge was drawn.
+Shortly after we moved on in sections, left in front, the Light Company
+leading the way towards the enemy's camp. I had been driven in that
+afternoon from Stony Creek, and was well acquainted with the ground. The
+cautious silence observed was most painful; not a whisper was permitted;
+even our footsteps were not allowed to be heard. I shall never forget
+the agony caused to the senses by the stealthiness with which we
+proceeded to the midnight slaughter. I was not aware that any other
+force accompanied us than the Grenadiers, and when we approached near
+the Creek, I ventured to whisper to Col. Harvey, 'We are close to the
+enemy's camp, sir.' 'Hush! I know it,' was his reply. Shortly after a
+sentry challenged sharply; Lieutenant Danford and the leading section
+rushed forward and killed him with their bayonets; his bleeding corpse
+was cast aside, and we moved on with breathless caution. A second
+challenge--who comes there?--another rush and the poor sentinel is
+transfixed, but his agonized dying groans alarmed a third who stood near
+the watch fire; he challenged, and immediately fired and fled. We all
+rushed forward upon the sleeping guard; few escaped; many awoke in
+another world. The excitement now became intense; the few who had
+escaped fired as they ran and aroused the sleeping army. All fled
+precipitately beyond the Creek, leaving their blankets and knapsacks
+behind.
+
+"Our troops deployed into line and halted in the midst of the camp
+fires, and immediately began to replace their flints. This, though not a
+_very_ lengthy operation, was one of intense anxiety, for the enemy
+now opened a most terrific fire, and many a brave fellow was laid low.
+We could only see the flash of the enemy's firelocks while we were
+perfectly visible to them, standing as we did in the midst of their camp
+fires. It was a grand and beautiful sight. No one who has not witnessed
+a night engagement can form any idea of the awful sublimity of the
+scene. The first volley from the enemy, coming from a spot as 'dark as
+Erebus,' seemed like the bursting forth of a volcano. Then again all was
+dark and still, save the moans of the wounded, the confused click!
+click!--noise made by our men in adjusting their flints, and the ring of
+the enemy's ramrods in reloading. Again the flash and roar of the
+musketry, the whistling of the bullets, and the crash of the cannon.
+'Chaos has come again.' The anxious moments (hours in imagination) have
+passed; the trembling excited hands of our men have at last fastened
+their flints; the comparatively merry sound of the ramrod tells that the
+charge is driven home; soon the fire is returned with animation; the sky
+is illumined with continued flashes; after a sharp contest and some
+changes of position, our men advance in a body and the enemy's troops
+retire. There were many mistakes made in this action, the two greatest
+were removing the men's flints, and halting in the midst of the camp
+fires; this is the reason why the loss of the enemy was less than ours,
+their wounds were mostly made by our bayonets. The changes of position
+by different portions of each army in the dark accounts for the fact of
+prisoners having been made by both parties. I must give the enemy's
+troops great credit for having recovered from their confusion, and for
+having shown a bold front so very soon after their having been so
+suddenly and completely surprised.
+
+"Yours,           A 49TH MAN."
+
+
+NOTE 3, page 13.
+
+  Friend Penn.
+
+
+Of this character, of whom the writer has made a somewhat free use, Col.
+Coffin says: "There is a tradition in the neighbourhood that Harvey
+himself having borrowed the garb and waggon of a Quaker"--of which sect
+there were many settled in Upper Canada at the time--"penetrated into
+the American lines, selling potatoes and 'taking notes.' Those who can
+recall the commanding stature and bearing of the gallant officer
+maintain that this was the very last disguise in which he was likely to
+succeed. It is not impossible that some patriotic 'Friend' really found
+a good market for his produce and valuable information for Harvey."
+
+
+NOTE 4, page 15.
+
+  Hymn.
+
+An air to this hymn has been composed.
+
+
+NOTE 5, page 16.
+
+  Pete and Flos.
+
+
+That the rights of the slave-holder had legal recognition in 1812 is not
+to be doubted, and that nearly every family of any means or repute held
+slaves is certain. The Bill abolishing slavery in the British Dominions
+did not pass until 1832, when it was introduced by Lord Stanley (the
+late Earl of Derby). A strong feeling in favour of its abolition had
+however permeated society, in consequence of the powerful
+representations made on the subject, both in and out of the British
+Parliament, by Wilberforce and Clarkson, "who had successfully shown,"
+says Hamilton in his "Outlines of the History of England," "that the
+effect of this iniquitous system was no less injurious to the moral
+condition of the people of England than it was to the physical
+well-being of the African race." That no ill-feeling towards their
+masters generally existed in Canada in the minds of the slaves may be
+fairly inferred from the fact that, at their own request, a coloured
+regiment was formed to assist in the defence of the country in 1812, and
+under Captain Runchey did good service at the Battle of Queenston
+Heights. In this connection it is also to be remembered that large
+numbers of freedmen were to be found both in England and Canada--men
+who for faithful or special services had received the gift of freedom
+from their grateful and generous masters.
+
+That the Legislature of Upper Canada was free even at that early period
+to deal with its domestic questions is shown by the fact that in 1793 an
+Act was passed at Newark, "forbidding the further introduction of slaves
+into the province, and ordering that 'all slave children born after the
+9th of July in that year should be free on attaining the age of
+twenty-five.'" To this Act is due the fact that Canada was as early as
+1800 a city of refuge for escaped slaves, numbers of whom found their
+way hither from Baltimore and Maryland. (_See_ also Appendix)
+
+
+NOTE 6, page 18.
+
+  We'll have it though, and more, if Boerstler.
+
+
+It has generally been stated that Mr. Secord heard of the intended
+surprise of Fitzgibbon by accident. The facts of the case are, however,
+related in the poem, Mrs. Smith, a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Secord, who
+yet survives, being the authority.
+
+Mrs. Smith states that with the insolence of the victorious invader,
+Dearborn's men came and went, ordered, or possessed themselves of,
+whatever they chose, and took every form of familiarity in the homes of
+the residents within their lines, and that it was fast becoming an
+anxious question with the farmers and others, what they should do for
+supplies if Dearborn were not ousted within the season.
+
+
+NOTE 7, page 19.
+
+         --and fell a-talking, loud,
+  As in defiance, of some private plan
+  To make the British wince.
+
+
+The ill-feeling of the Americans towards British subjects can scarcely
+be too strongly represented for the facts. A bitter antagonism was
+naturally the feeling of each side so lately in the deadly struggle of a
+civil war. To gloss over this state of things, deplorable as it was, and
+as its results have often been, is to belie history, and to no good or
+useful end. Had the contention been akin to a mere friendly tug-of-war,
+as some would have it represented now, lest a growing friendliness
+should be endangered, it would be necessary for the historian to
+re-write all that has been written, for otherwise the arguments of
+contention would have no meaning, no _raison d'etre_; in fact, they
+could never have been formulated, for the premisses would have been
+wanting. "He is the best cosmopolite, who for his country lives." says
+some one, and it is to this truth that the peace of the world, which we
+all wish to see established, will be owing, not to any false
+representations in place of facts.
+
+
+NOTE 8, page 25.
+
+  That hate to England, not our country's name
+  And weal, impelled mad Madison upon this war,
+  And shut the mouths of thousand higher men than be.
+
+
+"The Democratic Party," says Col. Coffin (see "Chronicle of the War,"
+pp. 30-1-3), "eager to humble Britain, accepted any humiliation rather
+than quarrel with France. They submitted to the capture of ships, the
+sequestration of cargoes, the ransom of merchandise, with a faint
+remonstrance. French war ships seized American merchantmen at
+sea--plundered and burnt them. They consoled themselves with the belief
+that the anticipated triumph of the French Emperor in Europe would
+ensure their supremacy on this continent. They were prepared to divide
+the world between them...." In the words of the historian Alison, "the
+ostensible object of the war was to establish the principle that the
+flag covers the merchandise, and that the right of search for seamen who
+have deserted is inadmissible; the real object was to wrest from Great
+Britain the Canadas, and, in conjunction with Napoleon, extinguish its
+maritime and colonial empire. Politicians, too, of this early American
+school had a notion that French connection and the conquest of Canada
+were synonymous terms. This was a great mistake ... but ... it had an
+unexpected good effect, for the very suggestion of a French policy, or
+the exercise of French influence, tested the British feeling still
+latent in the hearts of thousands of Americans. In the New England
+States a war with England was denounced.... Citizens of these States
+expressed an abhorrence of France, and of its rule, and protested
+against the contemplated introduction of French troops on this
+continent, which, under the pretext of subduing or seducing the
+French-Canadians, might prove to be subversive of their own liberties.
+
+"It is probable that to this spirit of truthful independence may be
+ascribed the fact that during the whole of the ensuing war (1812-15) the
+immense extent of frontier between Lower Canada and the States of
+Vermont and New Hampshire and Maine was unassailed by an enemy.... No
+hostile irruption was attempted upon the Province from Lake Champlain to
+the ocean.... War was declared on the 18th June, 1812, by Act of
+Congress. Mr. Madison, then President, who had done all in his power to
+exasperate the existing ill-will, and to lash the popular mind to
+frenzy, eluded the responsibility of the fatal act, and made a cat's paw
+of the Legislature."
+
+The people of the United States were disunited on the subject of the
+war.... The Legislature of Maryland openly denounced the war. The
+Governments of Massachusetts, Connecticut and Rhode Island had refused
+the quota of militia demanded of these States respectively. Such men as
+Quincey declared in the House of Representatives at Washington that
+"since the invasion of the Buccaneers, there was nothing in history more
+disgraceful than this war." The same view of President Madison's action
+is also held by Auchinleck, Christie, and, indeed, by every trustworthy
+historian of the time.
+
+
+NOTE 9, page 25.
+
+  In opening up a road to reach the great Pacific.
+
+
+In 1812 the vast promise of the West had begun to attract public
+interest. The discovery of the Columbia River in Oregon, including what
+is now Washington Territory, was made by Captain Gray, of Boston, in
+1792, and upon this was based the general claim of the United States to
+the Territory. The British, however, held a prior claim of occupation
+and discovery. In 1804-6 Captains Lewis and Clarke explored the whole
+country from the mouth of the Missouri to the mouth of the Columbia, and
+in 1811 Fort Astoria was built. The Treaty of 1845 settled the question
+of claim to this Territory in common with other Western lands in favour
+of the United States. Although California was not largely settled by
+United States subjects until the Treaty of 1844, yet its reputation for
+being a gold-bearing country was well established, and had been
+increasing in public regard from the time of its first exploration by
+Sir Francis Drake in 1570, who expressed a strong opinion as to its
+auriferous character. Long before the famous expedition of Colonel
+Fremont across "the plains," numerous trails, too often marked by the
+white bones of their victims, bore testimony to the dauntless courage
+and sanguine enterprise that has opened up the great empire of the West.
+
+
+NOTE 10, page 26.
+
+  Brock! MacDonell! Dennis!
+
+
+It would be a work of supererogation to say anything of Major-General
+Sir Isaac Brock here, so completely is his name enshrined in Canadian
+history, literature, and tradition. I may, however, be pardoned if I
+quote a few descriptive sentences to be found in "A Chapter of the War
+of 1812," by Col. William Stanley Hatch, Acting Assistant
+Quartermaster-General of the army with Hull at Detroit.
+
+"General Brock was an officer of distinction. His personal appearance
+was commanding; he must have been six feet three or four inches in
+height, very massive and large boned, though not fleshy, and apparently
+of immense muscular power. His Aides were elegant young men, very near,
+if not quite six feet in height, and in their splendid uniforms all
+three presented a brilliant appearance. But how transitory and
+evanescent the gratification of that day and that event!" [the taking of
+Detroit]. "In a few short weeks--less than two months--on the 13th
+October, 1812, two of these noble men and gentlemanly officers had
+fallen. At this distant day I feel it due to myself and to them to
+record the sentiment of regret which impressed itself upon my mind when
+the announcement came that General Brock and Colonel MacDonell, public
+enemies as they were, had terminated their earthly career at Queenston."
+
+Lieutenant-Colonel MacDonell, A.D.C. to General Brock, was "one of five
+sons of a brother of MacDonell, Laird of Glengarry, who bore a prominent
+part in supporting Prince Charles, called the Pretender.... The family
+came out to this country shortly after the American Revolution, and
+settled in the County of Glengarry among other Scotch settlers, who had
+been located on lands in that county upon the disbanding of the regiment
+known as the Royal Highland Emigrants. Lieutenant-Colonel MacDonell came
+up to Toronto (then York) and studied law, and was appointed
+Attorney-General of the Province when a very young man, and afterwards
+accompanied, as aide-de-camp, General Brock at Detroit and Queenston,"
+where he gloriously fell in the gallant charge that followed the fall of
+Brock.--_Extract of private letter_. (_See_ also Appendix.)
+
+"I have heard that he (Lieut.-Col. MacDonell) was brought up by the late
+Hon. Alexander MacDonell, who gave him a valuable piece of property in
+the then Town of York to start him in the legal profession. On his way
+up the Niagara River with General Brock, having a kind of presentiment
+of what might happen, the Colonel made his will, and bequeathed the land
+referred to, to James MacDonell, eldest son of the Hon. Alexander
+MacDonell. The land is now owned by the widow of James (Mrs. M. S.
+MacDonell, living at 305 Bathurst Street). It comprised the west side of
+Church Street, from Wellington Street to King Street, and went some
+distance west."--_Extract of private letter_.
+
+Beside the lady above mentioned, several connections of Lieut.-Col.
+MacDonell reside in Toronto, among them W. J. MacDonell, Esq., French
+Vice-Consul; Angus D. MacDonell, Inland Revenue Department; and Alex.
+MacDonell, Esq., Osgoode Hall. The late Bishop MacDonell was also of
+this family, as were most of the MacDonells who grace the pages of
+Canadian histories of the War of 1812.
+
+Captain James Dennis--the third of the trio whom Mrs. Secord
+apostrophises--then Lieutenant, had been among the wounded on board the
+_Monarch_ man-of-war at Copenhagen, but recovered so as to
+accompany his regiment to Canada. In 1812 he was in charge of one of the
+two flank companies of the 49th, stationed at Queenston, and gallantly
+led the defence, directing the one-gun battery and holding the enemy
+completely in check until their discovery of a path to the summit of the
+Height turned the scale on the wrong side, where it stood until the
+arrival of General Brock. In the splendid charge up-hill Captain Dennis
+was wounded, and, it was supposed, killed; he, however, bravely kept the
+field until the day was won, despite pain and weakness. He was not
+related to the Dennises of York, and Buttonwood, near Weston; but two
+members of this family were in the York militia, and served at
+Queenston. The late Bishop Richardson, an uncle of theirs, also served
+in the navy on the lakes, where he lost an arm.
+
+
+NOTE 11, page 27.
+
+  The Widow, Stephen Secord.
+
+
+This lady was the widow of Stephen, an elder brother of James Secord,
+who, in conjunction with another brother, David, a major in the militia,
+and after whom the village was named, built and owned the grist mill at
+St. David's. Stephen Secord appears to have died some years previous to
+the war, leaving a family of several sons. With the wisdom and spirit of
+a sensible woman the widow carried on the business, and thereby brought
+up her family. During the war all her sons were variously engaged in it
+with the exception of the youngest, and in the absence of sufficient
+help the widow worked with her own hands, turning out flour for which
+the Government paid her twenty dollars a barrel. Many of the Secords who
+are to be found scattered through the Province at the present time are
+children of her sons.
+
+
+NOTE 12, page 27.
+
+  Sergeant George Mosier.
+
+
+This character is singular in being the only pure invention in the poem;
+and the name was chosen as being most unlikely to be borne by any one in
+the neighbourhood of Queenston. By one of those coincidences, however,
+that are not unknown, it appears that there was a Captain Mosier living
+at Newark in 1812, and commanding a vessel on Lake Ontario. Captain
+Mosier was of some service to the British Government, and on one
+occasion was able to be of special use in carrying off and concealing,
+until the mischievous effect was over, a somewhat hot-headed gentleman
+who in the ardour of his loyalty had thought it his solemn duty to cross
+the river and bayonet the sentinel at Fort Niagara.
+
+
+NOTE 13, page 27.
+
+                      --all is pretty quiet still
+  Since Harvey struck them dumb at Stony Creek.
+  Along the Lake bold Yeb holds them fast,
+  And Erie-way, Bishopp and Evans back him,
+
+
+"On the withdrawal of the British troops, the battlefield of Stony Creek
+was, as before said, for a short space re-occupied by the Americans
+under Colonel Burns, a cavalry officer, upon whom the command had
+devolved. He merely remained long enough to destroy the tents ... and
+stores. He then rapidly retired to the protection of the lines of Fort
+George, though in executing this manoeuvre he was intercepted and
+suffered much. On their advance the Americans had been accompanied all
+along the lake shore by a flotilla of boats and batteaux. Burns fell
+back upon this support, and embarked his wounded, and such of his men as
+had not yet got under cover, and was slowly creeping down the coast to
+the place from whence he came, when, on the 8th June, Sir James Yeo, who
+by this time had become master of his own movements, and had got out of
+Kingston, appeared in the offing; intelligence from the shore had
+apprised him of the state of things, and of the position of the enemy;
+and Richardson (the late James Richardson, D.D.) dwells with sailorly
+impatience on the perversity of a calm.... A breeze sprung up and the
+squadron closed in with the shore, cutting off the twelve rearmost boats
+of the American flotilla, laden with valuable supplies and stores.
+Perceiving an encampment in the woods on the beach, the Commodore
+disembarked in the ship's boats two companies of regulars under Major
+Evans of the 8th Regiment. This active officer landed, and in the
+evening having been reinforced by two companies from Burlington Heights
+under Colonel Bishopp, the second deserted American camp was entered. It
+was in a state of conflagration, ... but the captors saved from the
+flames 500 tents, 140 barrels of flour, 100 stand of arms.... Thus did
+this exploit of Harvey free the whole Peninsula from the invaders, and
+threw them back upon the mere edge of the frontier with a deep and
+dangerous river in their rear, between them and their supports and
+supplies."--_Col. Coffin's Chronicles of the War of 1812_. (_See_ also
+Appendix.)
+
+
+NOTE 14, page 29.
+
+      She, our neighbour there
+  At Queenston.
+
+
+This brave woman was Mrs. Maria Hill, a soldier's wife, who pitying the
+hungry condition of men who had been called out before day-break on a
+cold October morning, to meet a foe already in partial occupation and
+temporarily victorious, had no means of procuring or cooking supplies,
+and indeed could not even break their fast, except by the intervention
+of those whose property they, for the time, had been unable to defend.
+Mrs. Hill carried her little stores on to the field, and leaving her
+babe, who crowed and cheered, it is said, as though mightily diverted by
+the sight of the red-coats, under the shelter of a wood-pile, lighted
+fires, boiled water, and carried tea and food to as many of the men on
+the field as she could supply.
+
+
+NOTE 15, page 30.
+
+  The Lady Harriet Acland.
+
+
+This lady was the daughter of Stephen, first Earl of Ilchester, and
+accompanied her husband, Major John Dyke-Acland, to Canada in 1776.
+
+The story put into the mouth of Sergeant George Mosier may be found in
+the _Saturday Magazine_ for May, 1835, and also in Burke's "Romance
+of the Aristocracy." Her beauty, bravery and tender love for her husband
+made the name of Lady Harriet Acland an honour and delight among the men
+of her husband's regiment, and thus it is that Sergeant Mosier is made
+her historian with great propriety.
+
+In the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for February, 1778, I also find the
+following note, p. 69, in "Extracts from the Congress Accounts of the
+Northern Expeditions":
+
+"Oct. 11.--Some letters passed between the Generals, the first from Gen.
+Burgoyne, by Lady Acland, whose husband was dangerously wounded,
+recommending her Ladyship to the care and protection of Gen. Gates. Gen.
+Gates's answer, in which he expresses his surprise that his Excellency,
+after considering his preceding conduct, should think that he could
+consider the greatest attention to Lady Acland in the light of an
+_obligation_."
+
+
+NOTE 16, page 30.
+
+  Save perhaps the Baroness.
+
+The Baroness Reidessel, the wife of one of the officers of the Hessians.
+This lady, together with the wives of Major Harnage and Lieutenant
+Reynell, was with Lady Acland during the painful march that preceded the
+action of the 19th September, 1777. They had followed the route of the
+artillery and baggage as being less likely of attack on the road, and
+when the engagement begun found themselves at a little uninhabited hut,
+from whence they could hear the roll of the guns that were carrying
+death to scores of brave men. Here they had to endure a great trial, for
+their only refuge was also the only place to which the wounded, who soon
+began to arrive in great numbers, could be brought for first care. Soon
+Major Harnage was brought in desperately wounded. Not long after the
+news arrived that Lieutenant Reynell was shot dead, and before the day
+was done Major Acland was a prisoner dangerously wounded. Herself saved
+for the present such terrible trials, Baroness Reidessel distinguished
+herself by her ministrations to her suffering companions, and to the
+dying and wounded around, thus gaining the affectionate remembrance of
+many a poor fellow who had no other ray of comfort in his anguish.
+
+
+NOTE 17, page 37.
+
+  "Rule Britannia."
+
+This, together with "The King: God bless him," and "The Duke of York's
+March" were at this period new and favourite tunes all over the British
+Empire. In the _Times_, Oct. 3, 1798, under the heading "Drury Lane
+Theatre," it is reported that "after the play the news of Admiral
+Nelson's victory (over the French under Admiral Brueys at Rosetta)
+produced a burst of patriotic exultation that has been rarely witnessed
+in a theatre. 'Rule Britannia' was lustily called for from every part of
+the house, and Messrs. Kelly, Dignum, Sedgwick, Miss Leak and Mrs. Bland
+came forward and sang it, accompanied by numbers of the audience. It was
+called for and sung a second time. The acclamations were the loudest and
+most fervent we have ever witnessed. The following lines, written for
+the occasion, were introduced by Mr. Dignum and Mr. Sedgwick:
+
+  "'Again the tributary strain
+    Of grateful Britons, let us raise;
+  And to the heroes on the main,
+    Triumphant add a Nelson's praise.
+  Though the "Great Nation" proudly boasts
+    Herself invincible to be,
+  Yet oft brave Nelson still can prove
+    Britannia Mistress of the Sea.'
+
+
+"The audience was not satisfied with this repeated mark of exultation,
+but in the effusion of enthusiasic loyalty called for 'God Save the
+King,' which was received with reiterated plaudits."
+
+In another column of the same issue it is told that, "A person last
+night in the gallery of Drury Lane House calling frequently in a
+boisterous manner for the tune of 'Britons, Strike Home!' was
+immediately silenced by the appropriate observation of another at some
+distance from him, 'Why, damn it, they have, haven't they?'"
+
+The great popularity of "Rule Britannia" was owing to its entire
+consonance with the spirit of the nation, a popularity not even yet
+diminished. A further instance of its use in the celebration of a great
+national event is given in the _Times_, Nov. 7, 1805, in which is
+recorded the official account of the Battle of Trafalgar and the death
+of Nelson. At Covent Garden, where both the Kembles were then playing
+together with Mrs. Siddons, a "hasty but elegant compliment to the
+memory of Lord Nelson" was presented. It "consisted of columns in the
+foreground decorated with medallions of the naval heroes of Britain. In
+the distance a number of ships were seen, and the front of the picture
+was filled by Mr. Taylor and the principal singers of the theatre. They
+were grouped in an interesting manner with their eyes turned toward the
+clouds, from whence a half-length portrait of Lord Nelson descended with
+the following words underwritten, 'Horatio Nelson, Ob. 21st Oct.'" Mr.
+Taylor and the other performers then sang "Rule Britannia," verse and
+chorus. The following additional verse, written by Mr. Ashley, of Bath,
+was introduced and sung by Mr. Taylor with the most affecting
+expression. It was universally encored:--
+
+  "Again the loud-toned trump of fame,
+    Proclaims Britannia rules the main;
+  While sorrow whispers Nelson's name,
+    And mourns the gallant hero slain.
+        Rule, brave Britons, rule the main.
+        Revenge the God-like hero slain."
+
+
+NOTE 18, page 37.
+
+  Can you wonder? ... shot at, etc.
+
+
+The cruel treatment of the Loyalists, or _King's Men_, by the
+_Continentals_, as they called themselves, is one of the features
+of this painful time, records of which abound: the story of Moody is
+well known: another as authentic may be here quoted. The Rev. G. A.
+Anderson, late Chaplain to the Reformatory at Penetanguishene, in
+writing to the press with reference to the U. E. L. Celebration in 1884,
+says:
+
+"My grandfather, Samuel Anderson, was born of Irish parents, near
+Boston, 4th May, 1736.... He joined the King's forces, serving under
+General Abercrombie ... then under General Amherst, ... and was at the
+taking of Ticonderoga.... In 1775 he was offered a captaincy in the
+_Continental_ service which he peremptorily refused. Some time
+after he was offered the command of a regiment; this he also refused. He
+was at once suspected of being a _King's Man_, taken prisoner, and
+with several others, confined in Litchfield gaol, where he suffered
+almost death for two years. One morning, having heard that he and his
+fellow-prisoners were to be shot the following day, being a powerful man
+he wrenched the iron bars from the windows, and, with his companions,
+escaped to Canada...."
+
+A quotation from the "Boston Confiscation Act," Sept., 1778, ch. 48,
+speaks volumes as to the attitude of the new Republic towards the
+Loyalists: "In Massachusetts a person suspected of enmity to the Whig
+cause could be arrested under a magistrate's warrant, and banished,
+unless he would swear fealty to the friends of liberty; and the
+select-men of towns could prefer charges of political treachery in town
+meetings, and the individual thus accused, if convicted by a jury, could
+be sent into the enemy's jurisdiction. Massachusetts also designated by
+name, and generally by occupation and residence, three hundred and eight
+of her people, of whom seventeen had been inhabitants of Maine who had
+fled from their houses, and denounced against any one of them who should
+return apprehension, imprisonment and transportation to a place
+possessed by the British, and for a second voluntary return, without
+leave, death, without the benefit of clergy. By another law the property
+of twenty-nine persons, who were denominated 'notorious conspirators,'
+was confiscated; of these fifteen had been appointed 'Mandamus
+Councillors,' two had been Governors, one Lieutenant-Governor, one
+Treasurer, one Attorney-General, one Chief Justice and four
+Commissioners of Customs."--Lorenzo Sabine, _Historical Essay prefixed
+to Biographical Sketches of the American Loyalists_. (See further,
+chapters 39 and 41, vol. 2, Ryerson's _Loyalists of America and Their
+Times_. _See_ also Appendix.)
+
+
+NOTE 19, page 38.
+
+  "James Coffin is good."
+
+
+The name of Coffin is famous in the annals, military, naval and civil,
+of Canada, and is scarcely less marked in the history of the earlier
+United States of America. Two branches of the family came, U. E.
+Loyalists, to Canada in 1775-78. One established itself on the St. John,
+New Brunswick, the other in Quebec. "Twenty years after the landing from
+the _Mayflower_, the first of the name put in an appearance from
+Brixton, near Plymouth, South Devon, England, at Newbury Port, in New
+Hampshire." James Coffin, mentioned above, was the sixth son of John
+Coffin, who settled in Quebec, and did such good service at the
+_Pres-de-ville_, when Montgomery and Arnold invaded the Province.
+Like all the Coffins, James was of a genial and kindly disposition, and
+his appointment as a Commissary Officer permitted opportunities for
+consideration and courtesy to people of all ranks, which he did not fail
+to avail himself of. He died Assistant Commissary-General in 1835, at
+Quebec.
+
+
+NOTE 20, page 40.
+
+  From proffered gifts, or gold.
+
+
+"To the soldiers of this regiment (the 41st), as indeed to all others,
+every temptation had been presented to induce them to desert and enlist
+in their service, by money, land, etc. After it was found impossible to
+persuade any number of them to do so the American Government encamped
+them, for nearly two months, in a pestilential marsh near Sandusky
+without covering." (_See_ Dr. Strachan's letter, as Treasurer of
+the Loyal and Patriotic Society of Upper Canada, to Thomas Jefferson,
+Esq., Ex-President of the United States of America.)
+
+
+NOTE 21, page 41.
+
+  The beech-ridge.
+
+
+This was a ridge of high land clad with beeches which overhung a hollow
+in the road to Beaver Dam, and now forms the basin of the Welland Canal.
+"The spot," says Colonel Coffin, "which then rang with the outcries of
+the combatants now resounds with the hum of industry and the
+working-chant of the sailor."
+
+
+NOTE 22, page 47.
+
+  The small, neglectful bird.
+
+
+This is Tengmalm's Owl, or Death-bird. "The Indians of North America,"
+says Rev. J. G. Wood, "have a superstition that whoever hears the note
+of this bird must whistle in reply, and if the bird returns no answer
+the person will die within the year."
+
+
+NOTE 23, page 50.
+
+  Beaver Dam--Decau's house.
+
+
+Decau's farm house at the Beaver Dam was British headquarters more than
+once during the War of 1812. Close to this famous spot the town of
+Thorold now stands, and the interested visitor may reach it by tram-car
+from St. Catharines. Decau's Falls, near by, preserve the memory of the
+ancient settler on the spot in less correct orthography, Decew and less
+euphonious form than the original, which is said to have been also,
+Decamps.
+
+Another form of it may be found in "Loyalists of America," p, 243:
+
+"In the summer of 1800 my mother had a very nice help as nurse. Jenny
+Decow had been apprenticed to a relative, and at the age of eighteen,
+she received her bed, her cow, and two or three suits of clothing (those
+articles it was customary to give to a bound girl) and she was
+considered legally of age, with the right to earn her own living as best
+she could. ... Jenny had a wooer, ... young Daniel McCall made his
+appearance."
+
+
+NOTE 24, page 50.
+
+  Fitzgibbon.
+
+
+This brave officer is thus described in the letter of "A Green 'Un," I
+have elsewhere quoted, and which was written in 1852, at which date
+Colonel Fitzgibbon was yet alive:--"Colonel Fitzgibbon has long been
+known in Canada, in both a civil and a military capacity, and if he was
+now present he would be able to give you much more interesting and
+valuable information. At the time of this attack" (Black Rock, July
+12th, 1813), "he was a Lieutenant in the 49th, and his daring spirit and
+energy of character were well known to the whole army. General Vincent
+had placed him in command of a sort of independent company of Rangers.
+Volunteers from the different regiments were asked for, and strange to
+say so many men offered that it was difficult to decide who should be
+permitted to go. From the numerous young subs. desirous of joining him
+he selected his friend Lieutenant Winder of the 49th (now Dr. Winder,
+Librarian to the House of Assembly at Quebec), Volunteer D. A. McDonnell
+of the 8th, Volunteer Augustus Thompson of the 49th; and another
+youngster of the 49th (the late Judge Jarvis, of Cornwall) who were
+permitted as a great favour to join his corps." Colonel Coffin in his
+"Chronicles of the War of 1812," gives a very full account of Colonel
+Fitzgibbon's career, of which only a brief outline is proper here.
+Colonel James Fitzgibbon was the son of an English farmer, had a little
+early education, and acquired a fondness for reading; his passion for
+arms was irresistible. At seventeen he enlisted, and the same day, 25th,
+October, 1798, was made a sergeant. At twenty-one he was made
+Sergeant-Major. He served in Ireland and before Copenhagen, where the
+49th acted as marines. He was appointed to an ensigncy and adjutancy,
+and came to Canada. In 1809 he succeeded to a lieutenancy; and resigned
+the adjutancy to command a small detachment in the field. His exploits
+at the Beaver Dam gave him his company. He thus rose by dint of
+meritorious service, at a time when commissions and promotions were not
+so freely given to deserving men as they are now. On this, and on all
+other occasions, during the war, Fitzgibbon made his mark.
+
+"At the close of the war, he settled in Canada, and filled many offices
+of honour and emolument under the Government. His last appointment was
+that of Clerk to the Legislative Council. He retired on a pension, and
+returned to his native land, when, in just appreciation of his services,
+he was made a Military Knight of Windsor."
+
+
+NOTE 25, page 50.
+
+  "The Times." A newspaper of four pages.
+
+
+The first name of this great newspaper was _The Daily Universal
+Register_, but it had taken its latest title as early as 1801. An
+issue of that date containing the official accounts of the Battle of
+Copenhagen is in the writer's possession.
+
+
+NOTE 26, page 55.
+
+  And gray the dawn, and cold the morn of Rensellaer's attack.
+
+
+The 11th October had been first decided upon for the invasion of
+Queenston, but it proved one of those fierce October days that drench
+the earth with a cold rain, making roads into quagmires, and rivers into
+torrents, stripping the trees of their leafy honours, and not
+unfrequently tearing them up by the roots. The 13th opened cold and
+gray, but developed into a fine fall day, much to the convenience of the
+invaders. (_See_ also Appendix.)
+
+
+NOTE 27, page 55.
+
+  Though sad to me, who caught Brock's latest breath.
+
+
+"And our gallant General fell on his left side within a few feet of
+where I stood. Running up to him, I enquired, 'Are you much hurt, sir?'
+He placed his hand on his breast but made no reply, and sunk slowly
+down."--_Mr. G. S. Jarvis (the late Judge Jarvis, of Cornwall), in
+Auchinleck's History of the War of_ 1812, p. 105.
+
+Mr. Jarvis was taken prisoner at Queenston, but was exchanged for a
+Captain of militia within a week.
+
+
+NOTE 28, page 59.
+
+  Affliction leaves him in our hands to do him justice.
+
+
+The noble mind is always alert to see that he who cannot take care of
+himself shall be tenderly cared for, and that the more fully, the more
+he is exposed to injury by the prominence or delicacy of his position.
+
+In 1812 the King's malady, which in 1805 is recorded to have affected
+his eyes to such a degree that "he had to wear a green shade ... after
+candle-light," and could not "distinguish any person unless he be very
+near," and by the assistance of a glass, had increased to such an extent
+that Prince George had to be appointed Regent, and there were not wanting
+those who chose the opportunity to laugh at and depreciate the King's
+character.
+
+
+NOTE 28a, page 60.
+
+  Like dart of Annee-meekee.
+
+
+Annee-meekee is the Ojibway for the thunder; "dart of" consequently is
+the lightning.
+
+
+NOTE 29, page 59.
+
+  Of whom some fought for him at Copenhagen.
+
+
+The majority of the men with Fitzgibbon at Beaver Dam belonged to the
+49th Regiment, to which Fitzgibbon himself belonged. It was also Brock's
+regiment. He had joined it in 1791 at Barbadoes. The regiment being
+removed to Jamaica, Brock was thence obliged to get leave of absence in
+1793 on account of his health. On June 24, 1795, after doing recruiting
+service both in England and Jersey, he purchased his majority. Next year
+his regiment returned from Jamaica, and on the 25th October, 1797, he
+purchased his lieutenant-colonelcy, and soon after became senior
+lieutenant-colonel. In August, 1799, the 49th Regiment was ordered to
+Holland as part of the force under Sir Ralph Abercrombie. On the return
+of the expedition, the 49th was again quartered in Jersey until the
+spring of 1801, when it was despatched with the fleet for the Baltic
+under Sir Hyde Parker. The same year the 49th returned to England, and
+in the next spring was sent to Canada where it took up its quarters at
+York (Toronto). On the flag of the regiment is inscribed
+"Egmont-op-Zee," "Copenhagen," "Queenstown," and its colours and
+appointments bear the word "China" and the device of the Dragon.
+
+Of the career of the 49th Regiment in Canada during the war of 1812-15,
+it is impossible to speak too highly. From their brilliancy of attack
+and energy in action the American soldiers dubbed them the "Green
+Tigers," and on the fatal day at Queenston, those of the wounded who had
+passed over "had described the charge of the 'Green Tigers' and militia
+in the morning, and had warned them what they might expect if they came
+in contact with troops infuriated by the loss of their beloved General"
+(Auchinleck, p. 106.) That the 49th revelled in the honour conferred by
+such a _soubriquet_ is clear from the fact that Fitzgibbon's
+company dubbed themselves "Fitzgibbon's Green 'Uns," and one of them,
+the late Judge Jarvis, of Cornwall, then a cadet of eighteen, says, over
+the _nom de plume_' "A Green 'Un," in Auchinleck: "We were all
+dressed in green uniform made from clothing which had been taken from
+the enemy."
+
+In a private letter to the writer Judge Jarvis says, under date
+_Cornwall, 7th November_, 1876: "The uniform of the 49th was, of
+course, of a scarlet colour with green facings, rather a light green.
+Around the edges of the cuffs and collar was a band of gold lace one
+inch wide, thus (a drawing is given).
+
+"The militia had no uniform during the War of 1812; they were furnished
+with a blanket only." At the taking of Fort Detroit the militia are
+generally said to have been in uniform, but these were only a few and in
+the first engagement.
+
+"The Americans wore coarse grey or blue cloth, mostly the former."
+Homespun; in pursuance of the line of action required by the blockade.
+"One regiment, the Irish Greens, wore dark green cloth, but they were
+not at either Stony Creek or Beaver Dam."
+
+
+NOTE 30, page 59.
+
+    --and the Queen's, too,
+  Who loves all nobleness.
+
+
+Queen Charlotte's intense admiration for all nobility of character is
+well exemplified by Sir Walter Scott in Jennie Deans ("Heart of
+Midlothian"), to whom she showed the most marked kindness and sympathy.
+This was but one instance out of many which were well known and duly
+appreciated by the British people.
+
+
+NOTE 31, page 60.
+
+  You, Cummings, mount.
+
+
+James Cummings, of Chippewa, was engaged in the Indian trade. He
+accompanied Clark's plucky expedition on Black Rock, when they surprised
+the work, captured the guard together with several stand of arms, one
+brass six-pounder, and a large store of provisions. On Bishopp hearing
+of this exploit, he fired up, "Hang the fellow, he has got before me. By
+Jove, it was well done; we'll try it again." And he did, as history
+tells.
+
+
+NOTE 32, page 60.
+
+  Twelve-Mile Creek.
+
+
+"The site of St. Catharines, formerly known as the Twelve-Mile Creek or
+Shipman's Corners, after the oldest inhabitant of the place, was first
+selected as a country residence by the Hon. Robert Hamilton, father of
+the Hamilton who gave his name to the flourishing and rising city which
+still bears it, so early as the year 1800, at which period he owned the
+mills afterwards known as the Thomas's Mills, upon the Twelve-Mile
+Creek, up to which point boats at that time ascended. But it was not
+until after the war, viz., in 1816, that the town-plot of St. Catharines
+was first purchased and laid out as a village by the Hon. W. H. Merritt
+and Jonathan H. Clendennen, and received the name of St. Catharines, in
+honour of Mrs. Robert Hamilton, whose name was Catharine."
+                           --_Anglo-American Magazine_, vol. 3, p. 129.
+
+
+NOTE 33, page 60.
+
+  I have friends beyond.
+
+
+These were the household of Miss Tourney, an intimate friend of Mrs.
+Secord, and owner of a large farm some three miles beyond Beaver Dam. To
+this house Mrs. Secord proceeded, accompanied by an escort furnished by
+Lieut. Fitzgibbon, but, it need hardly be said, not exactly in the
+manner described. Here "she slept right off, for she had journeyed on
+foot twenty miles, and safely, God be praised." Mrs. Secord returned to
+her anxious husband on the third day after having started on her
+perilous undertaking, but neither through the woods, nor on foot, thanks
+to her brave deed, and the success of British arms.
+
+
+NOTE 34, page 63.
+
+  Ye Yankee rogue! ye coward!
+
+
+This incident, which Col. Coffin places as preceding the occupation of
+Beaver Dam by Fitzgibbon, is thus described by Judge Jarvis in a letter
+subsequent to the one already quoted, and which was apparently dictated
+by the awakening of did memories by the enquiries that led to the former
+letter: "Although I write with great labour and pain" [the result of
+rheumatism] "I cannot refrain from giving you the following incident.
+Lieut. Fitzgibbon, who always preferred going on any dangerous
+expedition to sending any other person, on receiving the information of
+the patriotic woman, went forward to reconnoitre. On approaching a small
+tavern two American soldiers came out of the door, and immediately
+presented their rifles. He seized the rifles, and crossed them in front
+of his person" [Col. Coffin says: He seized the musket of the more
+advanced man and by main strength threw him upon his fellow, whose
+musket he also grappled with the other hand'] "so that neither could
+fire without shooting his fellow-soldier. Here he held them until one of
+them drew Lieut. Fitzgibbon's sword, and held it up over his head, of
+course intending to stab him forthwith. The woman of the house saw the
+position, and rushed out and seized the sword, and got it from the
+soldier's hand. Fitzgibbon then tripped up one of the soldiers and
+felled the other with a blow, then took them both prisoners and marched
+them into the line occupied by his company."
+
+It is a pity this brave woman's name cannot be discovered in order that
+it might be added to the roll of those patriotic women whose names adorn
+Canadian history.
+
+
+NOTE 35, page 64.
+
+  Lieut.-Col. Thomas Clark.
+
+Lieutenant-Colonel Clark, of the 2nd Lincoln Militia, was, says Colonel
+Coffin, "a Scotchman by birth." He "was an Indian trader and forwarder
+of goods to the Western hunting grounds; a member of the firm of Street
+& Clark.... From the first outbreak of the war Clark was foremost in
+frontier frail. He had acquired the confidence of his men, and obtained
+the cordial co-operation of those who, like Bishopp, understood
+volunteers, and could appreciate the merits of the extemporaneous
+soldier."
+
+
+NOTE 36, page 64.
+
+  "But twenty sir, all told."
+
+
+These were militia. "Old Isaac Kelly," says Colonel Coffin (Chronicles
+of the War of 1812), "born and raised on 48 Thorold, a septuagenarian,
+hale and hearty, who still [in 1864] lives not a mile from the spot,
+tells how, when he was a boy of eighteen, and was in the act of
+'hitching up' his horses for the plough, he heard the firing in the
+wood, and outcries of the Indians; how he ran to his two brothers, both
+a-field; how the three got their muskets--they were all militiamen--men
+home to put in a crop; how, led by the sounds, they crossed the country
+to the beech grove, meeting eight or ten more by the way, suddenly
+roused, like themselves; how, from behind the trees, they opened fire on
+the American train, and on the guns which were then unlimbering to the
+rear, and how the Americans, more worried and bothered than hurt,
+changed their position, and took-up ground in David Millar's apple
+orchard."
+
+
+NOTE 37, page 64.
+
+  Boerstler's lost his head.
+
+
+Not altogether without reason. "We frightened the enemy," says Judge
+Jarvis, in a letter before quoted, "with our Indians, and from sounding
+the bugle on different positions to make them suppose we were numerous,
+and had them surrounded."
+
+
+NOTE 38, page 65.
+
+  Terms generous and honourable, sir.
+
+
+"Particulars of the capitulation made between Captain McDowell, on the
+part of Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler, of the United States Army, and
+Major De Haren, of his Britannic Majesty's Canadian Regiment, on the
+part of Lieutenant Colonel Bishopp, commanding the advance of the
+British, respecting the force under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel
+Boerstler:
+
+"Article 1.--That Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler and the forces under his
+command shall surrender prisoners of war.
+
+"Article 2.--That the officers shall retain their arms, horses and
+baggage.
+
+"Article 3.--That the non-commissioned officers and soldiers shall lay
+down their arms at the head of the British column, and shall become
+prisoners of war.
+
+"Article 4.--That the militia and volunteers with Lieutenant-Colonel
+Boerstler shall be permitted to return to the United States on parole.
+
+                                 "ANDREW MCDOWELL,
+
+                "_Captain of the United States Light Artillery_.
+
+"Acceded to and signed,
+
+                                 "P. G. BOERSTLER,
+
+          "_Lieut.-Col. commanding detachment United States Army_.
+
+                                 "P. V. DE HAREN,
+
+                            "_Major Canadian Regiment_."
+
+--_Auchinleck's History of the War_, p. 175.
+
+
+NOTE 39, page 65.
+
+  The golden epaulettes.
+
+
+These were the insignia of a captain's rank in those days, and as Major
+De Haren is made to predict, Lieutenant Fitzgibbon won his company by
+the exploit of Beaver Dam.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A BALLAD OF 1812.
+
+
+NOTE 1, page 70.
+
+  Irresolution ruled.
+
+
+Proctor's irresolution, timidity, or want of promptness, led to many
+disasters, notably that at Moraviantown, and at length was his own
+destruction.
+
+
+NOTE 2, page 70.
+
+  Our people, by forced parole held.
+
+
+James says, "No sooner had the American Army got possession of the
+Niagara frontier [27th May, 1813] than officers with parties were sent
+to every farmhouse and hovel in the neighbourhood to exact a parole from
+the male inhabitants of almost every age. Some were glad of this excuse
+for remaining peaceably at their houses, and those who made any
+opposition were threatened to be sent across the river, and thrown into
+a noisome prison."
+
+
+NOTE 3, page 72.
+
+  The substance all too poor and sparse
+    Our stinted fields may grow.
+
+
+The war was declared on the 18th of June, and at once every able male in
+the Provinces sprang to arms. The necessary absence from their farms
+thus forced upon them curtailed the sowing, and lessened the harvest,
+though the women and children of every rank did their utmost to
+countervail the losses thus threatened. The next year there was less to
+sow and less, consequently, to reap, notwithstanding the leave granted
+to the militia at all possible junctures, to attend to their work; but
+intermittent farming is not more successful than other occasionally
+prosecuted labour, and the war laid bare many previously fruitful
+clearings.
+
+
+NOTE 4, page 73.
+
+  Or many-rattled snake.
+
+
+An extraordinary danger attended the bite of the rattlesnake in the case
+of a married woman. The Jenny Decow alluded to in Note 23 had become
+Mrs. McCall, and while working in the field with her husband was bitten.
+Her husband killed the snake, thinking, according to the ideas of the
+time, that by so doing he should save his wife's life; he also sucked
+the poison from the wound; but before he had carried her to her cottage
+the foot had burst. An Indian remedy was applied, but it was years
+before she recovered from the effects of that bite. In the meantime two
+children were born, each of whom turned spotted and sore, and then died.
+A third born after her recovery was strong and healthy, and grew to
+manhood.
+
+
+NOTE 5, page 73.
+
+  Oh, at the mill my brother lies
+   Just at the point of death.
+
+
+This was Mr. Charles Ingersoll, after whom Mrs. Secord named her only
+son. He had been wounded, and lay at St. David's Mill in a very
+precarious condition. He recovered, however, to fight again, and to
+become one of Woodstock's most prominent citizens.
+
+
+NOTE 6, page 74.
+
+  The fritil' butterfly.
+
+
+This is the small fritillary, a beautiful little creature that may be
+seen flitting from blossom to blossom, or careering in the early summer
+air in the manner almost of a tumbler pigeon, before any other of its
+kind has left its winter's cradle. It is beautifully marked, of a golden
+brown, and the edges, of the wings are bordered with a narrow vandyking
+of pearly gray.
+
+
+NOTE 7, page 74.
+
+  She hears the wolves' dread bands.
+
+
+"Wolves were the pests of the country for many years, and even after
+they were partially expelled by the settlers, they used to make
+occasional descents upon the settlements, and many a farmer that counted
+his sheep by twenties at night would be thankful if he could muster half
+a score in the morning."-_See Ryerson's Loyalists_, p. 246.
+
+
+NOTE 8, page 75.
+
+  Doomed St. David's Mill.
+
+
+Auchinleck says, "From the 8th of July" [Chippewa was fought on the 4th]
+"to the 23rd of the month, General Brown, with his enormous force, was
+content to remain without striking a blow, unless an occasional
+demonstration before Forts George and Mississaga, or the wanton
+conflagration of the village of St David's, be considered as such."
+
+Of this atrocity an American officer, a Major McFarland, writes:--"The
+militia and Indians plundered and burnt every thing. The whole population
+is against us; not a foraging party but is fired on, and not infrequently
+returns with missing numbers. This state was to be anticipated The militia
+have burnt several private dwelling-houses, and, on the 19th instant,
+burnt the village of St. David's, consisting of about thirty or forty
+houses. This was done within three miles of camp, and my battalion was
+sent to cover the retreat, as they [the militia] had been sent to scour
+the country, and it was presumed they might be pursued. My God, what a
+service! I never witnessed such a scene, and had not the commanding
+officer of the party, Lieutenant-Colonel Stone, been disgraced" [he was
+dismissed the service by sentence of a court-martial for this deed]
+"and sent out of the army, I should have resigned my commission."
+
+This disgust was not caused by any half-heartedness in the war on the
+part of Major McFarland, for he says in the same letter that "he desires
+no better fun than to fight the British troops."
+
+
+NOTE 9, page 80.
+
+  Oh, chief, indeed no spy am I.
+
+
+So impossible did it appear to the Indian that a woman should be found
+traversing alone so strongly invested a section of the country, that it
+was with the greatest difficulty Mrs. Secord persuaded him of the truth
+of her story.
+
+
+NOTE 10, page 82.
+
+  Nay, five and forty, one by one,
+    Have borne her from the day.
+
+
+From 1813 to 1860, seven and forty. Five is, however, used as a division
+of equality.
+
+NOTE 11, page 83.
+
+  And when from o'er the parting seas,
+    A royal letter came.
+
+
+"When, in 1860, the Prince of Wales was at Niagara, he went to see the
+aged lady, and from her own lips heard the tale; and, learning that her
+fortune did not equal her fame, he sent her, most delicately and most
+gracefully, the sum of one hundred guineas. God bless him for
+_that_, is the aspiration of every true Canadian heart. He is his
+mother's true son."--_Col. Coffin's Chronicles of the War of 1812_.
+
+
+
+
+JUBILEE POEM.
+
+NOTE 1, page 84.
+
+
+  Mercy, whose message bore thy first command.
+
+
+The first act of the Crown which Her Majesty was called upon to perform
+was the signing of the death-warrant of a soldier who had been sentenced
+to be shot for desertion. The Queen took it keenly, and asked the Duke
+of Wellington if there was no possible plea on which the man could be
+respited: had he _no_ good quality?
+
+"Your Majesty, he is a very bad soldier, having deserted three times;
+but I believe he is a good husband."
+
+"Oh, thank you," the Queen replied, and wrote "Pardoned" across the
+document.
+
+
+
+
+THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND.
+
+NOTE 1, page 86.
+
+This touching incident, bright example as it is of that fine sense of
+duty that has built up the renown of the British Army, is related in his
+charming volume, "The Emigrant," by Sir Francis Bond Head. The author,
+in introducing it, says: "In the different regions of the globe it has
+been my fortune to visit, I have always experienced great pleasure in
+pausing for a few minutes at the various spots which have been
+distinguished by some feat or other of British enterprise, British
+mercy, British honesty, British generosity or British valour.
+
+"About the time I was in Canada a trifling circumstance occurred on the
+breaking up of the ice, which I feel proud to record.
+
+"In the middle of the great St. Lawrence there is, nearly opposite
+Montreal, an island called St. Helen's, between which and the shore the
+stream, about three quarters of a mile broad, runs with very great
+rapidity, and yet, notwithstanding this current, the intense cold of
+winter invariably freezes its surface.
+
+"The winter which I am speaking of was unusually severe, and the ice on
+the St. Lawrence particularly thick; however, while the river beneath
+was rushing towards the sea, the ice was waiting in abeyance in the
+middle of the stream until the narrow fastness between Montreal and St.
+Helen's should burst, and allow the whole mass to break into pieces, and
+then in stupendous confusion to hurry downwards towards Quebec." The
+story follows, and in winding up the account Sir Francis says:
+"Colour-Sergeant William Delaney, and Private George Morgan, of the 24th
+Regiment now at Chatham, were eye-witnesses of the above occurrence."
+
+The dangers Sergeant Neill so bravely encountered are thus graphically
+depicted by Sir Francis B. Head on p. 42 of the same volume, in
+describing the breaking up of the ice of the River Humber, a stream not
+a tenth of the length or breadth of the St. Lawrence, so that the scene
+bears but a slight comparison to that witnessed on the larger river.
+"... As soon as the great movement commenced, these trees and the ice
+were hurried before my eyes in indescribable confusion. Every piece of
+ice, whatever might be its shape or size, as it proceeded, was either
+revolving horizontally or rearing up on end until it reeled over;
+sometimes a tree striking against the bottom would rise slowly up, and
+for a moment stand erect as if it grew out of the river; at other times
+it would, apparently for variety's sake, stand on its head with its
+roots uppermost and then turn over; sometimes the ice as it proceeded
+would rise up like a house and chimneys, and then rolling head over
+heels, sink, leaving in its place clear water.
+
+"In a few hours the turmoil was completely at an end, the torrent had
+diminished, the stream had shrunk to its ordinary limits, and nothing.
+remained to tell of the struggle." (_See_ also Appendix.)
+
+
+
+
+LIVINGSTONE.
+
+Note 1, page 101.
+
+  Snatched by the hand of God his groaning millions.
+
+
+The representations by Livingstone of the terrible condition among the
+inland peoples of Africa by slavery, tribe enslaving tribe, people
+making war upon people for the sake of prisoners to be sent to the slave
+market, and the horrors endured by the poor wretches, thus given over to
+a fate worse than death, by the greed of the Arabian and certain white
+merchants of the coast, led to action on the part of the British and
+other Governments, which has done much to break up the inhuman traffic,
+and will never cease "till that wide wound be healed."
+
+
+
+
+THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE.
+
+Note 1, page 122.
+
+
+This little comedy appeared in _Gripsack_ for 1882, and was written
+at the request of the editor of _Grip_, who was, and is, in full
+sympathy with all efforts to secure the rights of women. At that date
+the Council of University College had refused to entertain the
+application of ladies to be admitted to the lectures of University
+College, and that such an adventure with its _denouement_ did not
+become a fact is only to be credited to the wisdom that, on further
+consideration, withdrew the objection, for history affords many
+instances of woman's use of a disguise in order to attain her wishes,
+and the annals of co-education furnish numerous proofs of her equality
+with, and not unfrequently her superiority to, her rivals of the other
+sex in competitive examinations.
+
+
+Note 2, page 127.
+
+  To think that down in Canterbury, girls.
+
+
+The circumstance here so mournfully quoted by Kate was a fact. The
+University of Canterbury, New Zealand, was open alike to men and women.
+The examination papers used were prepared by Cambridge University
+(England) on the same standing as their own, and were returned to
+Cambridge for adjudication thereon. In 1881 a lady took the degree of
+B.A., the first in the world, and was invested with the hood with some
+_eclat_.
+
+
+NOTE 3, page 136.
+
+  Who in this city form a ladies' club.
+
+
+The Toronto Women's Literary Club, incepted by Dr. Emily H. Stowe, of
+Toronto, and meeting at her house from 1876 until its resolution into
+the Canadian Women's Suffrage Association in 1883, was responsible for
+the public agitation of the right of women to admission to University
+College; and also for the circulation of the petition to that end,
+which, by the kind help of many of members of the Legislature, won from
+the Provincial Parliament a recommendation to the Senate of the
+University that women should be admitted. Several of the leading fourth
+year men of 1882 offered their assistance in circulating the petition
+among the students; and the greatest sympathy was shown by educators in
+every part of the Dominion.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDICES.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX NO. 1.
+
+[The following account of 13th Oct., 1812, written by Lieut.-Colonel
+Evans, of the Eighth or King's Regiment, Acting Brigade-Major to the
+Forces at that date, will be read with interest, and is doubly valuable
+as being a piece of well-attested history.]
+
+GOVERNMENT HOUSE, Fort George. Oct. 15, 1812.
+
+After dinner on the evening of the 11th inst., Major-General Brock
+handed me a note from Captain Dennis, commanding flank companies of the
+49th Regiment at Queenstown. After perusing its contents, which were of
+an alarming nature, setting forth the highly mutinous state of his
+detachment, his men having deliberately threatened to shoot their
+officers, etc., the General said, "Evans, you will proceed early in the
+morning and investigate this business, and march, as prisoners, in here,
+half-a-dozen of those most culpable, and I will make an example of them.
+You can also cross the river and tell Van Rensellaer I expect he will
+immediately exchange the prisoners taken in the _Detroit_ and
+_Caledonia_ [two vessels coming from Amherstburgh cut out by
+Americans whilst at anchor at Fort Erie] for an equal number of
+Americans I released after the capture of Detroit."
+
+I reached Queenstown early in the morning of the 12th, and finding many
+of the grenadier company confined, and the guard-house gutted, and
+Captain Dennis himself in apparent alarm at the state of things, I
+proposed proceeding at once to select those most prominent, for example.
+At this juncture, however, and when about leaving Hamilton's house
+[Captain Dennis' quarters] a scattered fire of musquetry from the
+American shore took place, and on a musket ball entering the room
+passing betwixt us, I inquired with surprise the meaning of such unusual
+insolence. Captain Dennis stating the practice to have existed more or
+less for some days, insomuch as to render ingress by the river door
+hazardous, I deemed it fitting first to cross the river, desiring
+Captain Dennis would prepare his men against my return. On passing along
+the river bank for Mr. T. Dickson, the enemy kept up an incessant fire
+of musquetry till I entered that gentleman's house, but happily without
+mischief. I now begged Mrs. Dickson kindly to, prepare a white
+handkerchief as a flag of truce, asking Mr. Dickson, who was a Captain
+of Militia, would he accompany me across the water; he had no objection,
+but both Mrs. Dickson and all present urged the danger of any attempt to
+cross, convinced as they were, in the enemy's then temper, the flag
+would not be respected. Feeling this to be no time for discussing about
+personal safety, I took Dickson by one hand and the flag in the other,
+then descending the precipitous steep to the water's edge, we launched
+our frail canoe amidst an unsparing shower of shot which fell all around
+us; nor did the firing cease till the canoe, become quite unmanageable,
+tossed about in the waters of the strong eddies; when, as if struck by
+shame at his dastardly attempt to deter us from our purpose the enemy
+gave the signal to cease fire. I was thus relieved (and enabled) on
+approaching the shore to observe more calmly all that was passing. On
+touching the ground, with water in the leaky canoe ankle deep, I was
+about, as was my custom, leaping ashore, when a sentinel from a guard
+brought to the spot, came to the charge with fixed bayonet,
+authoritatively commanding me not to leave the boat. To my enquiry for
+Colonel Solomon Van Rensellaer, (the Adjutant-General) with whom I
+usually conferred, I was told he was sick. I then stated having an
+important message from General Brock for their Commander, which if
+inconvenient for their General to receive from me personally, I begged
+an official person might be immediately deputed to convey it to him.
+After some delay, Mr. Toock, the General's Secretary, made his
+appearance, but his reply to General Brock's request being abrupt, and
+as I thought somewhat significant, "that nothing could be done till the
+day after to-orrow," I ventured to remind him of General Brock's
+liberality towards their people which the fortune of war had thrown into
+his hands, entreating that he would again consult his General, and
+enable me to carry to mine something more satisfactory. In compliance,
+as he stated, with my wishes, but as it appeared to me, more with the
+intent to consume my time, rendered precious from its being after
+midday, he detained me in my miserable position for more than two hours,
+and then returned expressing the General's regret "that the prisoners
+having been marched for Albany they could not instanter be brought back,
+but that might assure General Brock with his respects that all should be
+settled to their mutual satisfaction the day after to-morrow." I was now
+too anxious to depart to wish the parley prolonged, my mind being quite
+made up as to the enemy's intentions, and to the course it was most
+fitting for me to pursue under the circumstances. It had not escaped me
+that their saucy numbers had been prodigiously swelled by a horde of
+half-savage troops from Kentucky, Ohio and Tennessee, which evidently
+made it hazardous for their northern countrymen to show their accustomed
+respect for a flag of truce from a foe; but my most important discovery
+was their boats slung in the sides or fissures on the river bank covered
+only by the brush, with indeed many decided indications that an attack
+on our shores could not be prudently delayed for a single day. Under
+such impression the first thing on reaching our own side was the removal
+by Mr. Dickson of his family from his own house on the beach, the very
+site of the prospective struggle, and giving note of preparation to the
+few militia which, with the 49th flank companies, were all the immediate
+disposable force for the defence of Queenstown. Aware of the imminence
+and magnitude of the danger, the lateness of the hour, after three p.m.,
+and distance from Fort George, Headquarters more than six miles, I
+hesitated not assuming the responsibility of liberating all the 49th
+prisoners, on the specious plea of their offence proceeding from a too
+free indulgence in drink, appealing to them for proof of their loyalty
+and courage, which they were assured would be severely tested ere
+another day dawned. Then, after a rapid but effective arrangement of the
+several points requiring attention, seeing to the re-supply of fresh
+ammunition, and infusing all the spirit and animation in my power to
+impart, I left Captain Dennis, exhorting his utmost diligence in keeping
+his charge on the alert for repelling the enemy's attempt, which I
+foresaw would not be deferred. Having to put the many posts on the line
+of communication on the _qui vive_, although I rode at full speed,
+it was past six p.m. ere I reached Fort George, and then from having
+been exposed for thirteen hours, under much anxiety, to wet feet and
+extreme heat, without refreshment of any kind, I was so exhausted as to
+be unequal to further immediate effort. Refreshed, I narrated to General
+Brock all that had occurred, the precautionary steps I had taken, and
+the responsibility I had assumed as to the 49th prisoners, which, under
+the stated circumstances, I trusted he would approve, and at once
+authorize my making preparations for coming events, so indispensably
+required. The General evidently doubting at first, hesitated, but seeing
+my earnestness in rebuking his attendants of charging my being
+over-sanguine, and chagrin at their proffered bets against my
+predictions, he became unusually grave, desired I would follow him to
+the office, where at his request I succinctly recapitulated the day's
+occurrences, adding my solemn conviction that a moment was not to be
+lost in effectually preparing for defence.
+
+The General now thanked me, approved of all that I had done, and,
+returning to the dining room, directed officials to be immediately
+written and despatched by Provincial Dragoons, calling in the militia of
+the vicinity that same evening, those more distant to follow with all
+alacrity. I was directed to make all requisite preparations at
+Headquarters. In this work I was busied till near eleven p.m., with but
+few converts, however, to my convictions, when, worn down by fatigue, I
+stretched myself on my mattrass. After a slumber of a few hours I was
+aroused by a distant cannonade soon after two a.m., 13th October, but
+without surprise, well knowing the quarters where the ominous sound
+came. The General who, himself, had all in readiness at once mounted his
+horse and proceeded for the post attacked. His Aides-de-Camp were awoke,
+and soon followed. Major-General Sheaffe, second in command, assumed
+charge at Headquarters, but the impression on General Brock's mind being
+that the attempt at Queenstown would prove only a feint to disguise his
+(the enemy's) real object from the creek in rear of Fort Niagara, his
+apparent wish was that whilst all were held in readiness to act in any
+quarter, no decisive movement by the troops should take place till the
+enemy's intentions were fully developed. The Indians and regular
+Artillery were, however, promptly despatched, and the _elite_ of
+the 41st with an equal number of well-drilled militia flank companies
+ready to follow on the first summons. As the day dawned, the scouts I
+had sent out reporting no symptoms of hostile movement in the quarter
+indicated, these troops all proceeded at double quick for the succour of
+Queenstown, the debouching of the head of which column on the main road
+appeared to be the signal for opening a brisk cannonade from Fort
+Niagara on the troops, the town, and Fort.
+
+Soon after, the news of the gallant Brock's unhappy fall reached us,
+which, by necessarily removing General Sheaffe to Queenstown, the
+command at Fort George devolved on me as next senior officer. At this
+moment the scene around was awfully discouraging, the gaol and court
+house were suddenly wrapped in flames, which as containing many
+political prisoners, I at first imagined the act of an incendiary, but
+other buildings soon appearing in a similar state of conflagration left
+me no longer in doubt as to the new enemy of hot shot with which we had
+to grapple, and its easy distance, on wooden edifices I foresaw, must be
+attended with very destructive effect. Luckily, a _posse_ of
+militia-men had now come in, which I distributed in separate bodies,
+collecting all the water-buckets and requisite implements from the
+inhabitants of the town.
+
+This arrangement, though in part effective, from the energy and courage
+displayed in extinguishing the flames as they occurred, I felt to be
+insufficient in itself for our security; selecting therefore, all the
+old veteran militia artillerymen with two intelligent staff
+non-commissioned officers of the 41st, by bending our whole efforts to
+the attainment of one object, we at length succeeded in stopping the
+mischief by diminishing and crippling the enemy's guns, but not before
+he had burnt to the ground many buildings, amongst the number, beside
+the gaol and court house, the Chief Engineer's quarters; the more
+important ones, however, the "Royal Barracks," "Block House," "King's
+Stores" and other public buildings, though repeatedly fired were, by
+steady and untiring intrepidity, preserved. Thus temporarily relieved, I
+was enabled to attend to Capt. Derinzy's (commanding 41st Batt.) note,
+from which it appeared, he found on arriving at Queenstown, the enemy in
+possession of the opposite heights, and our heavy one-gun battery
+there:--that the enfilading on our side, too distant from the landing to
+be quite effective--then protected by his division--had been powerfully
+aided by Capt. Holcroft, of the Royal Artillery, who, unmindful of
+consequences, boldly dashed his gun through the valley into Hamilton's
+court-yard within point blank range, thus succeeding in sinking some of
+the enemy's crowded boats and damping the ardour of his troops for
+crossing. Seeing his critical position Capt. Derinzy had sustained him
+by a party of the 41st Regiment. He briefly mentioned that the spirited
+Brock finding on his arrival the 49th grenadiers and militia, though
+resolutely defending the landing-place, hard pressed, had called to
+their aid the 49th light company from the Height's summit, the key of
+the position. The enemy, profiting by this step, moved unperceived about
+150 men--and over a precipitous steep it was deemed impracticable for a
+human being to ascend--who suddenly appeared to the astonished General
+just on the mountain summit, and the next instant in possession of the
+redoubt, putting its defenders to the sword. The gallant spirit of
+Brock, ill brooking to be thus foiled, with a courage deserving a better
+fate, hastily collected the weak 49th company and a few militia;
+debouching from a stone building at the mountain's brow, with these
+little bands, he spiritedly strove to regain his lost position, but in
+which daring attempt he was killed by a rifle ball entering under the
+left breast, passing out by the right shoulder. Capt. Williams by taking
+a wider range, made a second effort, but as the result proved with too
+inadequate a force, the A.D.C. (McDonell), being mortally wounded and
+Capt. Williams' head partially scalped by a rifle ball.
+
+These circumstances convinced me General Sheaffe would be more
+circumspect than attack without a concentration of every disposable man.
+Under such impressions, after first despatching Lieutenant McIntyre,
+41st Regiment, with about 140 men of his regiment and militia, and
+afterwards Wm. Martin with every regular soldier and a few active
+militia from Fort George, I hastened to forward, at all hazards, the
+most active of the men from the many posts on the line of communication.
+On starting those from Young's Battery, the enemy, as though by signal,
+re-opened his cannonade from Fort Niagara on Fort George and the town.
+However mortified by this unlooked-for occurrence, prudence required
+that whilst sending our whole effective force to Queenstown, Fort George
+and its dependencies should not be neglected, for what with the alien
+and prisoners in the Block House, with those set at liberty by firing
+the gaol, their number was little short of 300, with but a few raw
+militia left for their security, or that of the fort or town. I was,
+therefore, left no alternative but to gallop back and ascertain the
+enemy's power for further mischief. Well it was that I did so, for on
+reaching the gate of Fort George, I met a crowd of the militia with
+consternation in their countenances, exclaiming the magazine was on
+fire. Knowing it to contain 800 barrels of powder, with vent side-walls,
+not an instant was to be lost. Captain Vigoreux, of the Engineers,
+therefore, at my suggestion, was promptly on its roof, which movement
+was with alacrity followed by the requisite number of volunteers, when
+by the tin being stripped off the blazing wood was extinguished. Thus
+was confidence reassured. The enemy, taking advantage of a bend in the
+river, had brought a battery with hot shot to enfilade the barracks,
+magazine and King's stores, and despite all our efforts to dislodge him
+he had effectively consumed the store-houses with all the lower
+buildings, and repeatedly set on fire the barracks and magazine. Our
+success was perfect: the enemy's fire being again silenced and the
+necessary precautions taken to avert future disaster, I made another
+effort to reach Queenstown, when I met Captain Chambers, 41st Regiment,
+with the glad tidings that General Sheaffe, by a spirited and judicious
+movement away to his right, and crossing the vale high up with his
+collected forces, had approached--as to ground--his enemy on more
+favourable terms, and that his operations had resulted in the enemy's
+complete destruction. But, for the details of this brilliant success I
+must refer to the despatches of the distinguished officer who, with his
+gallant troops, achieved it.
+
+(Signed) THOMAS EVANS,
+
+_Brigade-Major to the Forces_.
+
+[The statement made above by Lieut.-Col. Evans that in the 49th were
+still smouldering the fires of the insubordination that Brock himself
+had summarily dealt with several years before, is as remarkable as it is
+painful to those who would fain think a regiment famed for its brave
+achievements in so many engagements, and to which Brock had belonged for
+many years, could not be guilty of anything so disgraceful as is
+insubordination. It must, however, be remembered that of all duties,
+garrison duty is most trying to the soldier, and to these men, the
+greater part of whom were veterans who had fought at Bergen-op-Zoom and
+Copenhagen, where they had acted as marines, anything approaching to the
+spirit of the martinet in their superior officers must have been very
+galling.
+
+To this want of tact on the part of certain officers is attributed, by
+those who have enquired most carefully into the matter, the
+uncomfortable state of the gallant 49th at and before the epoch of the
+war.
+
+Even Brock himself was tired of garrison life at such a stirring time at
+home, and had applied for active service in Europe, and Major-General
+Sheaffe had actually been appointed to his offices, both civil and
+military, when the declaration of war by President Madison gave him the
+employment he was looking for.]
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX NO. 2.
+
+[From the other end of the Niagara Frontier comes an equally interesting
+account of that notable day--the 13th Oct., 1812, that of Lieutenant
+Driscoll of the 100th Regiment. (See Ryerson's "Loyalists of America and
+their Times." Vol. 2, pages 36-81.)]
+
+"I was stationed at Fort Erie on the memorable 13th Oct., 1812. At
+daybreak, having returned with my escort as visiting rounds, after a
+march of about six miles in muddy roads through the forests, and about
+to refresh the inward man after my fatiguing trudge, I heard a booming
+of distant artillery very faintly articulated.
+
+"Having satisfied myself of the certainty of my belief, wet and fatigue
+were no longer remembered; excitement banishes these trifling matters
+from the mind; and I posted off to my commanding officer to report the
+firing, now more audible and rapid.
+
+"I found my chief, booted and spurred and snoring--lying, as was his
+wont, on a small hair mattrass on the floor in his barrack room, which
+boasted of furniture, one oak table covered with green baize, a writing
+desk, a tin basin containing water and a brass candlestick, which had
+planted in it a regulation mutton-dip, dimly flickering its last ray of
+light, paling before the dawn, now making its appearance through the
+curtainless window.
+
+"The noise I made on entering the Major's sleeping and other apartment
+awoke him. As he sat up on his low mattrass he said, 'What is the
+matter?' 'Heavy firing down the river, sir.' 'Turn the men out.' 'All
+under arms, sir.' 'That'll do.'
+
+"By this time he was on his legs--his hat and gloves on. His hutman was
+at the door with his charger, and his spurs in his horses' flanks in an
+instant--leaving the orderly, hutman, and myself to double after him up
+to the fort, some hundred yards off.
+
+"As we reached it, the men were emerging through the gate in measured
+cadence, and we were on our way to the batteries opposite the enemy's
+station at Black Rock.
+
+"Before we reached our post of alarm the sun was up and bright. We had
+not assumed our position long before an orderly officer of the
+Provincial Dragoons rode up, and gave us the information that the enemy
+were attempting to cross at Queenston, and that we must annoy them along
+the whole line, as was being done from Niagara to Queenston, by any and
+every means in our power short of crossing the river. Everything was
+ready on our part. The enemy all appeared asleep, judging from the
+apparent quiet that prevailed on their side the river.
+
+"The command to annoy the enemy was no sooner given than bang! bang!
+went off every gun that we had in position.
+
+"Now there was a stir. The enemy's guns were in a short time manned, and
+returned our fire; and the day's work was begun, which was carried on
+briskly the greater part of the day on both sides of the Niagara.
+
+"About two o'clock, another Provincial Dragoon, bespattered, horse and
+man, with foam and mud, made his appearance, not wearing sword or
+helmet.
+
+"Said an old Green Tiger to me: 'Horse and man jaded, sir; depend upon
+it he brings bad news.' 'Step down and ascertain what intelligence he
+brings.' Away my veteran doubles, and soon returns at a funeral pace.
+
+"Light heart, light step," were my inward thoughts. I knew by poor old
+Clibborn's style of return something dreadful had occurred. 'What news,
+Clibborn? What news, man? Speak out,' said I, as be advanced towards the
+battery that was still keeping up a brisk fire. Clibborn walked on,
+perfectly unconscious of the balls that were ploughing up the ground,
+uttered not a word but shook his head.
+
+"When in the battery the old man sat down on the platform; still no
+word, but the pallor and expression of his countenance indicated the
+sorrow of his soul.
+
+"I could stand it no longer. I placed my hand on his shoulder. 'For
+Heaven's sake, tell us what you know.' 'In choking accents he revealed
+his melancholy information: 'The General is killed; the enemy has
+possession of Queenstown Heights.'
+
+"Every man in the battery was paralyzed; the battery ceased firing.
+
+"A cheer by the enemy from the opposite side of the river recalled us to
+our duty. They had heard of their success down the river. Our men, who
+had in various ways evinced their feelings--some in weeping, some in
+swearing--some in mournful silence--now exhibit demoniac energy. The
+heavy guns are loaded, traversed and fired, as if they were field
+pieces.
+
+"Too much hurry for precision. 'Take your time, men; don't throw away
+your fire, my lads.' 'No, sir, but we'll give it to them hot and heavy.'
+
+"All the guns were worked by the 49th men of my own company, and they
+wished to avenge their beloved chief. Brock, whom they knew and valued
+with that correct appreciation peculiar to the British soldier. They had
+all served under him in Holland and at Copenhagen.
+
+"I had a very excellent reconnoitering glass; and as I kept a sharp
+lookout for the effect of our fire, and the movements of the enemy, I
+observed that powder was being removed from a large wooden barrack into
+ammunition waggons. The only man of the Royal Artillery I had with me
+was a bombardier, Walker. I called his attention to the fact I had
+observed, and directed him to lay a gun for that part of the building
+wherefrom the powder was being taken. At my request he took a look
+through my glass, and, having satisfied himself, he laid the gun as I
+ordered. I, with my glass, watched the spot aimed at. I saw one plank of
+the building fall out, and at the same instant the whole fabric went up
+in a pillar of black smoke, with but little noise, and it was no
+more--horses, waggons, men and building all disappeared; not a vestige
+of any was to be seen.
+
+"Now was our turn to cheer; and we plied the enemy in a style so quick
+and accurate that we silenced all their guns just as a third dragoon
+came galloping up to us, shouting 'Victory! Victory!' Then again we
+cheered lustily, but no response came from the other side. Night now hid
+the enemy from our sight.
+
+"The commissariat made its appearance with biscuit, pork, rum and
+potatoes, and we broke our fast for that day about nine p.m.
+
+"How strange and unaccountable are the feelings induced by war! Here
+were men of two nations, but of a common origin, speaking the same
+language, of the same creed, intent on mutual destruction, rejoicing
+with fiendish pleasure at their address in perpetrating murder by
+wholesale, shouting for joy as disasters propagated by the chance of war
+hurled death and agonizing wounds into the ranks of their opponents! And
+yet the very same men, when chance gave them the opportunity, would
+readily exchange, in their own peculiar way, all the amenities of social
+life, extending to one another a draw of the pipe, a quid or glass;
+obtaining and exchanging information from one and the other of their
+respective services, as to pay, rations, etc., the victors with delicacy
+abstaining from any mention of the victorious day. Though the vanquished
+would allude to their disaster, the victors never named their triumphs.
+
+"Such is the character of acts and words between British and American
+soldiers, which I have witnessed, as officer commanding a guard over
+American prisoners.
+
+"JAMES DRISCOLL,
+
+"_Of the 100th Regiment_."
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX NO. 3.
+
+[Lieutenant-Colonel Bishopp was a son of Sir Cecil Bishopp, Bart.,
+afterwards Lord de la Zouche. He was an accomplished gentleman. He had
+served in the Guards. Had represented Newport, in the Isle of Wight, in
+Parliament. Had been attached to a Russian embassy. Had served with
+distinction in Flanders, in Spain, in Portugal and died full of hope and
+promise in Canada, gallantly "doing his duty," and not without avail,
+for his example still lives.]
+
+"At two a.m. on the morning of the 11th July, 1813, accompanied by
+Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Clark, and Lieutenant James Cummings (both of
+the Lincoln Militia), backed by about 240 men--200 being regulars, and
+forty of the 2nd and 3rd Lincoln Militia, Bishopp swooped down upon
+Black Rock, the American naval depot on the River Niagara.
+
+"The assault was a success; the work of destruction of the naval stores,
+chiefly by sinking them in the river, was complete. But Porter's force
+was aroused, and a speedy retreat on the part of Bishopp necessary. The
+men re-embarked unmolested, and Bishopp was the last to retire. Scarcely
+had they left the bank when the Indians who had crawled to the top
+commenced to fire. Part of Bishopp's men were landed and drove the enemy
+back into the woods.... Bishopp was everywhere commanding, directing,
+getting his men off. In the confusion of the moment some of the oars of
+his own boat were lost, and she drifted helplessly down stream exposed
+to an ever-increasing fire. Here Bishopp received his death-wound. He
+was borne back to his quarters, where, in a few days he expired at the
+early age of twenty-seven. 'Never was any officer, save always the
+lamented Brock, regretted more than he was.' His remains lie beneath a
+modest monument erected to his memory by the pious care of his sisters,
+the Baroness de la Zouche and Mrs. Pechall, in the churchyard at Lundy's
+Lane."--_Coffin's Chronicles_.
+
+A tablet to his memory is also to be seen at the family burial-place,
+Parham, Sussex, England, with the following epitaph:--
+
+  "His pillow--not of sturdy oak;
+  His shroud--a simple soldier's cloak;
+  His dirge will sound till Time's no more--
+  Niagara's loud and solemn roar.
+  There Cecil lies--say where the grave
+  More worthy of a Briton brave?"
+
+
+[Lieutenant-Colonel (afterwards General) Evans, Brigade Major, was one
+of the most valuable officers of the War of 1812. His cool head, sound
+judgment, energy, and capability in administration made him a tower of
+strength to his superiors, all of whom at various times, took an
+opportunity of testifying to his merits.]
+
+On the 17th August, 1812, the day after the surrender of Detroit,
+General Brock wrote to him:--
+
+"Dear Evans,--Detroit is ours, and with it the whole Michigan Territory,
+the American Army Prisoners of War. The force you so skilfully prepared
+and forwarded at so much risk, met me at "Point au Pins" in high spirits
+and most effective state. Your thought of clothing the militia in the
+41st cast-off clothing proved a most happy one, it having more than
+doubled our own regular force in the enemy's eye. I am not without
+anxiety about the Niagara with your scanty means for its defence,
+notwithstanding my confidence in your vigilance and admirable address in
+keeping the enemy so long in ignorance of my absence and movements, etc.
+(Signed) I. BROCK."
+
+There is no need here to allude to the events of the 13th October, 1812,
+at Fort George, since they are given in Lieut.-Col. Evans' own account
+of that day, to be found at Appendix No. 1, and show that his Generals
+had good reason for the esteem in which they held him. Suffice it to say
+that in the despatches of General Sheaffe from Queenstown; of General
+Vincent from Burlington Heights; of Deputy Adjutant-General Harvey,
+Burlington Heights, with reference to the successful attack on
+Forty-mile Creek by a wing of the 8th or King's Regiment under
+Lieut-Col. Evans; of General Riall, after Chippawa, Fort Erie, and
+Lundy's Lane; and of General Drummond, after Lundy's Lane, Lieut.-Col.
+Evans is always mentioned with special approbation. And the same feeling
+is evident in the public prints of the day, notably the London
+_Gazette_, the official organ, as well as in histories of the war.
+
+Previous to his removal to Canada with his regiment, Lieut.-Col. Evans
+had been officially connected with the Government of Gibraltar in 1802,
+at the time that the Duke of Kent, as Governor, was trying to introduce
+some much-needed reforms, by doing which he brought a hornet's nest
+about his ears. In this affair the Royal Duke was ably backed by his
+subordinate, and in 1826, when Lieut.-Col. Evans was applying for a
+staff situation in Canada, his Royal Highness gratefully supported his
+request.
+
+Brigade-Major Evans' local rank throughout the War of 1812 was that of
+Lieutenant-Colonel.
+
+General Evans was an Englishman of Welsh ancestry. He married a daughter
+of Mr. Chief Justice Ogden, of Three Rivers, and after occupying several
+important appointments, returned to Canada, dying in Quebec in February,
+1863, and was buried with military honours. His body was afterwards
+removed to Three Rivers, and lies by the side of his wife.
+
+Major R. J. Evans, now resident in Toronto, to whom I am indebted for
+the above particulars, as also for the valuable paper to be found
+elsewhere, is a son of General Evans.
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX NO. 4.
+
+Guests from the 'Royal' stroll frequently to the grassy ramparts of old
+Fort George, whose irregular outlines are still to be traced in the open
+plains which now surround it. Here landed in 1783-84, ten thousand
+United Empire Loyalists who, to keep inviolate their oaths of allegiance
+to the King, quitted their freeholds and positions of trust and honour
+in the States to begin life anew in the unbroken wilds of Upper Canada.
+
+"History has made us somewhat familiar with the settlement of Nova
+Scotia and New Brunswick by the expatriated Loyalists. Little has been
+written of the sufferings and privations endured by 'the makers' of
+Upper Canada.
+
+"With the present revival of interest in American history, it is
+singular that writers do not awaken a curiosity about the Loyalists of
+the Revolution. Students and specialists who have investigated the story
+of a flight, equalled only by that of the Huguenots after the Revocation
+of the Edict of Nantes, have been led to admire the spirit of unselfish
+patriotism which led over one hundred thousand fugitives to self-exile.
+While the Pilgrim Fathers came to America leisurely, bringing their
+household goods and their charters with them, the United Empire Loyalists,
+it has been well said, 'bleeding with the wounds of seven years of war,
+left ungathered the crops of their rich farms on the Mohawk and in New
+Jersey, and, stripped of every earthly possession, braved the terrors of
+the unbroken wilderness from the Mohawk to Lake Ontario.'"--_Jane Meade
+Welsh, in Harper's New Monthly for August_, 1887.
+
+"1812--like the characters on the labarum of Constantine--is a sign of
+solemn import to the people of Canada. It carries with it the virtue of
+an incantation. Like the magic numerals of the Arabian sage, these
+words, in their utterance, quicken the pulse, and vibrate through the
+frame, summoning from the pregnant past memories of suffering and
+endurance and of honourable exertion. They are inscribed on the banner
+and stamped on the hearts of the Canadian people--a watchword rather
+than a war cry. With these words upon his lips, the loyal Canadian, as a
+vigilant sentinel, locks forth into the gloom, ready with his challenge,
+hopeful for a friendly response but prepared for any other. The people
+of Canada are proud of the men, and of the deeds, and of the
+recollections of those days. They feel that the War of 1812 is an
+episode in the story of a young people, glorious, in itself and full of
+promise. They believe that the infant which, in its very cradle, could
+strangle invasion, struggle and endure bravely and without repining, is
+capable of a nobler development, if God wills further
+trial."--_Coffin's Chronicles of the War, Chapter I., preamble_.
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX NO. 5.
+
+[Mr. Le Moine, in "Quebec Past and Present," states that slavery was
+finally abolished in Canada in 1803.] "Near Fort George, less than a
+century ago, stood the first Parliament House of Upper Canada--a
+building rude in comparison with the massive pile, the Bishop's Palace,
+used for a similar purpose at Quebec--but memorable for one at least of
+the many liberal laws its homespun representatives enacted. Here,
+seventy years before President Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation, the
+first United Empire Loyalist Parliament, like the embattled farmers at
+Concord, 'fired a shot heard round the world.' For one of the first
+measures of the exiled patricians was to pass an act forbidding slavery.
+Few readers know that at Newark--now Niagara, Ontario--was enacted that
+law by which Canada became, not only the first country in the world to
+abolish slavery, but as such, a safe refuge for the fugitive slaves from
+the Southern States."--_Jane Meade Welsh, in Harper's New Monthly,
+August_, 1887.
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX NO. 6.
+
+[The Twenty-fourth or Second Warwickshire Regiment, now the South Wales
+Borderers, is of ancient and gallant fame. On its colours are inscribed
+"Egypt," "Cape of Good Hope," "Talavera," "Fuentes d'Onor," "Salamanca,"
+"Vittoria," "Pyrenees," "Nivelle," "Orthes," "Peninsula"--a goodly show.]
+
+To us, perhaps, the claims of the Regiment upon our admiration are
+eclipsed by those upon our pity when we remember the terrible disaster
+of Isandula in 1879, when six companies of the Regiment were cut to
+pieces, and as it was at first feared, the colours lost. But it was not
+so; several companies of the 1st Battalion had fought in the victorious
+affair of Rorke's Drift the day before, and "Lieutenant Bromhead" says
+the _Daily News_ of Feb. 21, 1879: "1st Battalion, 24th Regiment,
+and Lieutenant Chard, R.E., left in charge of the Drift with a company
+of the 24th Regiment, first received intimation of the disaster [at
+Isandula] from fugitives making for the Drift. Lieutenant Coghill with
+others rode away to communicate with Helgmakaar, and were killed by
+Zulus in crossing the river."
+
+With Lieutenant Coghill was Lieutenant Melville carrying the colours.
+The company holding the Drift was annihilated by the on-rushing savages,
+and no tidings of the colours could be gained until some days after
+when, behind a mound, were found the bodies of the two brave
+Lieutenants, one of whom grasped the pole with hands stiffened in death
+and around the other the precious flag was wound, "safe on the heart of
+a soldier."
+
+The following touching lines will be welcome to the lover of noble deeds;
+it is to be regretted that the name of the poet cannot also be given:--
+
+    THE LOST COLOURS.
+
+Who said we had lost the Colours?
+  Who carried the tale away.
+And whispered it low in England,
+  With the deeds of that awful day?
+The story was washed, they tell us,
+  Freed from a touch of shame--
+Washed in the blood of those who died.
+  Told in their sacred name.
+
+But they said we had lost the Colours,
+  And the Colours were safe, you see;
+While the story was told in England,
+  Over the restless sea.
+They had not the heart to blame us.
+  When they knew what the day had cost;
+But we felt the shame of the silence laid
+  On the Colours they thought were lost.
+
+And now to its farthest limit
+  They will listen and hear our cry;
+How could the Colours be lost, I say,
+  While one was left to die?
+Safe on the heart of a soldier,
+  Where else could the Colours be!
+I do not say they were found again,
+  For they never were lost, you see.
+
+Safe on the heart of a soldier,
+  Knotted close to his side,
+Proudly lie on the quiet breast,
+  Washed in the crimson tide!
+For the heart is silent forever,
+  Stirred by no flitting breath,
+And the Colours he saved are a fitting shroud,
+  And meet for a soldier's death.
+
+What more would they know in England?
+  The Colours were lost, they said;
+And all the time they were safe, of course,
+  Though the soldier himself was dead.
+The band was stiff, and the heart was cold
+  And feeble the stalwart limb;
+But he was one of the Twenty-fourth,
+  So the Colours were safe with him.
+
+
+The following which appeared in the Toronto _World_, Saturday,
+July 16, 1887, will also be found of interest to those whose sympathies
+have been awakened by the poem:
+
+"NO LONGER THE TWENTY-FOURTH."
+
+_How the Heroes of Isandklwana came to be called South Wales Borderers_.
+
+"In the London _Graphic_ there have appeared lately several good
+articles headed 'Types of the British Army,' with excellent full-sheet
+coloured cuts, by eminent artists, of men in marching order or otherwise
+belonging to the corps on which the article is written. The last one is
+in the _Graphic_ of April 30, being the fourth to appear, and the
+picture represents a soldier of the gallant 24th Regiment. Much has been
+said by old officers and soldiers in the press relative to the abolition
+of the time-honoured numbers of the old corps, and now this splendid old
+regiment is no longer the 24th, but since 1881 is called the 'South
+Wales Borderers.' And not only did the historical old number disappear
+from the Army List, according to the new system, but they lost their
+green facings, and now wear the white, which all regiments, English and
+Welsh, according to the territorial system, have to wear. The Irish wear
+green, the Scotch yellow, and all Royal regiments wear blue. The
+Artillery and 60th Rifles have red facings, and the Rifle Brigade black.
+Corps on the line now go by territorial titles. First and second
+battalions and many old regiments are joined to other old corps which
+formerly had nothing whatever to do with the county or province from
+which they now derive their title." In connection with this a former
+captain in the 46th writes to the Montreal _Witness_ as follows:
+
+"It may be interesting to many to know the reason why regiments now bear
+their new titles; and, as the writer was intimately acquainted with the
+24th before the fearful calamity at Isandhlwana--where they were
+annihilated in 1879 by the Zulus--and was stationed with them in Brecon,
+South Wales, he can give the rather curious origin of their present
+title.
+
+"Some time before the Zulu campaign, there were many sweeping changes
+made in the army, amongst them being the abolition of numbers, and an
+order was issued that all members of militia, yeomanry and volunteers at
+home should have their adjutants appointed from officers serving on full
+pay with the regiments of cavalry or infantry, and that the artillery,
+militia and volunteers, should have their adjutants from the Royal
+Artillery or Marine Artillery; the appointment to last for five years,
+and at the expiration of that time the officer to return to his corps,
+and another one to succeed him. The writer was at that time adjutant of
+the 46th Regiment, and the first to be thus appointed to the Royal
+Brecon Rifles, South Wales--a small corps of only four companies. There
+was another smaller corps of only two companies in the adjoining county,
+Radnorshire, and, perhaps for economy's sake, it was ordered that both
+of these corps should be made one regiment. Each wanted to retain its
+old militia designation, but it was decided by the officers to give them
+a totally new one, and they were christened the 'South Wales Borderers.'
+
+"Brecon was made a depot centre, and the 24th Regiment were to recruit
+and have their depots there. Being then without a title they took that
+of the local militia, and are, therefore, now the '1st and 2nd
+Battalions South Wales Borderers.' But they will always be known as the
+time-honoured 24th, who lost one colonel, one major, four captains,
+fourteen lieutenants and seven entire companies, including band, buglers
+and drummer boys, at Isandhlwana. Lieutenants Melville and Coghill, on
+that occasion, seeing that all was lost, attempted to save the colours.
+Melville was first hit, and Coghill turned back to share his fate. The
+colours were afterwards found in the bed of the Buffalo River, and when
+brought home Her Majesty tied a small wreath of immortelles on the staff
+head at Osborn. They are still in the possession of the regiment, and
+the wreath presented by Her Majesty is preserved in a handsome
+hermetically-sealed oak box, mounted in silver."
+
+
+
+
+APPENDIX NO. 7.
+
+[In his "La Litterature au Canada Francais" M. Bender says of M. L.
+Pamphile Le May:]
+
+"Le May sings in a clear and tender voice, reminding one of Alfred de
+Vigny, and approaching the elegance and polish of that poet.... In words
+of melody he celebrates the beauties of rural life and scenery. He is
+touching, pleasing and sympathetic. He knows his subject well; he has
+seen it, he has felt it, he has loved it; indeed he yields too much to
+inspiration, and does not sufficiently finish his verse, nor does he
+fully develop his idea so as to reap all its wealth.... His creations
+evince originality and beauty of form." In his preface to "Essais
+Poetiques," published 1865, M. Leon P. Le May tells his readers that his
+friends discouraged him in his worship of the Muse; they said
+verse-making did not pay, that it cost a man too much to devote himself
+to an art so little esteemed. But he sang nevertheless, and Canadian
+literature in the French language is the richer by much that is sweet,
+tender, beautiful and inspiring. We ought to thank M. Le May for being
+wiser than his advisers; and such of us as have not yet considered
+Canadian Literature worthy of especial regard would do well to hunt up
+the numerous volumes that lie all but unknown upon booksellers' shelves,
+and convince themselves that there is a field of intellectual enjoyment
+open to them of which they may be justly proud to be the heirs.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812.
+by Sarah Anne Curzon
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812. ***
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+Title: Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812.
+       A Drama. And Other Poems.
+
+Author: Sarah Anne Curzon
+
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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812. ***
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+
+<h1>LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812:</h1>
+<center>
+<p style="font-size: 18;"><i>A DRAMA</i>.</p>
+<p style="font-size: 14;">AND OTHER POEMS.</p>
+<p style="font-size: 16;">BY SARAH ANNE CURZON</p></center>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr>
+<p style="margin-left: 5em; margin-right: 5em;">"And among them all
+move the majestic, white-robed bards, striking their golden harps,
+and telling the tales of the days of old, and handing down the
+names of the heroes for ever."&mdash;JUSTIN H. MCCARTHY</p>
+<p style="margin-left: 5em; margin-right: 5em;">"The soul of the
+book is whatever beautiful and true and noble we can find in
+it."&mdash;KINGSLEY'S "HYPATIA."</p>
+<hr>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<center>
+<p style="font-size: 14;">TO ALL TRUE CANADIANS,<br>
+ OF WHATEVER DERIVATION,<br>
+ THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED<br>
+ BY<br>
+ THE AUTHOR.</p></center>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>PREFACE.</h2>
+<hr>
+<p>The drama of "Laura Secord" was written to rescue from oblivion
+the name of a brave woman, and set it in its proper place among the
+heroes of Canadian history. During the first few years of her
+residence in Canada the author was often astonished to hear it
+remarked, no less among educated than uneducated Canadians, that
+"Canada has no history;" and yet on every hand stories were current
+of the achievements of the pioneers, and the hardships endured and
+overcome by the United Empire Loyalists. Remembering that, as soon
+as she had conquered the merest rudiments of reading and grammar at
+school, she was set to learn English History, and so become
+acquainted with the past of her country, it seemed to the writer
+that there was something lacking in a course of teaching that could
+leave Canadians to think that their country had no historical past.
+Determined to seek out for herself the facts of the case, it was
+with feelings of the deepest interest that she read such of the
+contributions to the newspaper press as came in her way during the
+debate with regard to the pensions asked of Government for the
+surviving veterans of 1812 in 1873-4. Among these was incidentally
+given the story of Mrs. Secord's heroic deed in warning Fitzgibbon.
+Yet it could not pass without observation that, while the heroism
+of the men of that date was dwelt upon with warm appreciation and
+much urgency as to their deserts, Mrs. Secord, as being a woman,
+shared in nothing more tangible than an approving record. The
+story, to a woman's mind, was full of pathos, and, though barren of
+great incidents, was not without a due richness of colouring if
+looked at by appreciative eyes. Nor were the results of Laura
+Secord's brave deed insignificant. Had the Americans carried Beaver
+Dams at that juncture, the whole peninsula was before
+them&mdash;all its supplies, all its means of communication with
+other parts of the Province. And Canada&mdash;Upper Canada, at
+least&mdash;would have been in the hands of the invaders until, by
+a struggle too severe to be contemplated calmly, they had been
+driven forth. To save from the sword is surely as great a deed as
+to save with the sword; and this Laura Secord did, at an expense of
+nerve and muscle fully equal to any that are recorded of the
+warrior. To set her on such a pedestal of equality; to inspire
+other hearts with loyal bravery such as hers; to write her name on
+the roll of Canadian heroes, inspired the poem that bears her name.
+But the tribute to her memory would not be complete were it to omit
+an appeal to Canadians, especially to the inhabitants of this
+Province, who, in their prosperity owe to her so much, to do their
+part, and write her name in enduring marble upon the spot where she
+lies buried.</p>
+<p>Nor does it seem asking more than a graceful act from the
+Government of the Dominion&mdash;a Dominion which, but for her,
+might never have been&mdash;to do its share in acknowledgment. One
+of her daughters still lives, and if she attain to her mother's age
+has yet nearly a decade before her.</p>
+<p>The drama of "Laura Secord" was written in 1876, and the ballad
+a year later, but, owing to the inertness of Canadian interest in
+Canadian literature at that date, could not be published. It is
+hoped that a better time has at length dawned.</p>
+S. A. CURZON. <br>
+ TORONTO, 1887. <br>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<p><a href="#secord">LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF
+1812</a></p>
+<p><a href="#ballad">A BALLAD OF 1812</a></p>
+<p><a href="#jubilee">THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE</a></p>
+<p><a href="#hero">THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND</a></p>
+<p><a href="#veterans">OUR VETERANS OF 1812. (A PLEA)</a></p>
+<p><a href="#loyal">LOYAL</a></p>
+<p><a href="#heights">ON QUEENSTON HEIGHTS</a></p>
+<p><a href="#mayor">NEW ORLEANS, MONROE, MAYOR</a></p>
+<p><a href="#emigrant">THE SONG OF THE EMIGRANT</a></p>
+<p><a href="#summer">TO THE INDIAN SUMMER</a></p>
+<p><a href="#june">IN JUNE</a></p>
+<p><a href="#livingstone">LIVINGSTONE, IN MEMORIAM</a></p>
+<p><a href="#queen">THE QUEEN AND THE CRIMEAN SOLDIERS</a></p>
+<p><a href="#child">TO A CHILD</a></p>
+<p><a href="#home">HOME</a></p>
+<p><a href="#lost">LOST WITH HIS BOAT</a></p>
+<p><a href="#life">LIFE IN DEATH</a></p>
+<p><a href="#rain">INVOCATION TO RAIN</a></p>
+<p><a href="#remonstrance">REMONSTRANCE WITH "REMONSTRANCE"</a></p>
+<p><a href="#absent">THE ABSENT ONES</a></p>
+<p><a href="#away">AWAY</a></p>
+<p><a href="#joe">POOR JOE</a></p>
+<p><a href="#fragments">FRAGMENTS</a></p>
+<p><a href="#graduate">THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE. (A COMEDY)</a></p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a href="#fables"><i>FABLES: ORIGINAL AND FROM THE
+FRENCH</i>.</a></h3>
+<p><a href="#fables1">THE CHOICE</a></p>
+<p><a href="#fables2">INSINCERITY</a></p>
+<p><a href="#fables3">THE TWO TREES</a> <i>Le May</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#fables4">FABLE AND TRUTH</a> <i>Florian</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#fables5">THE CALIPH</a> <i>Florian</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#fables6">THE BLIND MAN AND THE PARALYTIC</a>
+<i>Florian</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#fables7">DEATH</a> <i>Florian</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#fables8">THE HOUSE OF CARDS</a> <i>Florian</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#fables9">THE BULLFINCH AND THE RAVEN</a>
+<i>Florian</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#fables10">THE WASP AND THE BEE</a> <i>Florian</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a href="#translations"><i>TRANSLATIONS</i>.</a></h3>
+<p><a href="#trans1">IN MEMORY OF THE HEROES OF 1760</a> <i>Le
+May</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#trans2">THE SONG OF THE CANADIAN VOLTIGEURS</a> <i>Le
+May</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#trans3">THE LEGEND OF THE EARTH</a> <i>Jean
+Rameau</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#trans4">THE EMIGRANT MOUNTAINEER</a>
+<i>Chateaubriand</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#trans5">FROM "LIGHTS AND SHADES"</a> <i>Hugo</i>.</p>
+<p><a href="#trans6">VILLANELLE TO ROSETTE</a>
+<i>Desportes</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<h3><a href="#notes">NOTES</a></h3>
+<h3><a href="#appendices">APPENDICES</a></h3>
+<a name="pagei"><!-- Begin Page I --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2>MEMOIR OF MRS. SECORD</h2>
+<hr>
+<p>It is at all times an amiable and honourable sentiment that
+leads us to enquire into the antecedents of those who, by the
+greatness of their virtues have added value to the records of human
+history. Whether such inquiry increases our estimation of such
+value or not, it must always be instructive, and therefore
+inspiring. Under this impression I have sought on every hand to
+learn all that could be gathered of the history of one of Canada's
+purest patriots. As Dr. Ryerson aptly says in his <i>U. E.
+Loyalists and their Times</i>, "the period of the U. E. Loyalists
+was one of doing, not recording," therefore little beyond tradition
+has conserved anything of all that we would now like to know of the
+heroism, the bravery, the endurance, the trials of that bold army
+of men and women, who, having laid strong hands on the primeval
+forest, dug wide and deep the foundations of a nation whose
+greatness is yet to come. In such a light the simple records that
+follow will be attractive.</p>
+<p>Laura Secord came of loyal blood. She was the daughter of Mr.
+Thomas Ingersoll, the founder of the town of Ingersoll, and his
+wife Sarah, the sister of General John Whiting, of Great
+Barrington, Berkshire County, Mass. At the close of the War of
+1776, Mr. Ingersoll came to Canada on the invitation of Governor
+Simcoe, an old friend of the family, and founded a settlement on
+the banks of the Thames in Oxford County. On the change of
+government, Mr. Ingersoll and his struggling settlement of eighty
+or ninety families found their prospects blighted and their future
+imperilled; Mr. Ingersoll therefore saw it necessary to remove to
+Little York, and shortly afterward settled in the township of
+Etobicoke. There he resided until some time after the War of
+1812-14, when he returned with his family to Oxford County. Here he
+died, but left behind him worthy successors of his honourable name
+in his two sons, Charles and James.</p>
+<p>Charles Ingersoll, with that active loyalty and heroic energy
+which alike characterized his patriotic sister, Mrs. Secord, held
+prominent positions in the gift of the Government and of the
+people, and was also a highly respected merchant and trader.</p>
+<p>James Ingersoll, though of a more retiring disposition than his
+brother, was a prominent figure in Western Canada for many years.
+He was a magistrate of high repute, and occupied a foremost
+position in the militia, in which he held the rank of
+Lieutenant-Colonel at the time of his death. This event took place
+on the 9th August, 1886, at which date he had been Registrar for
+the County of Oxford fifty-two years.</p>
+<p>That Mrs. Secord should be brave, ready, prompt in action, and
+fervent <a name="pageii"><!-- Begin Page II --></a> in patriotism
+is not surprising, seeing that all the events of her childhood and
+youth were blended with those of the settlement of Upper Canada by
+the U. E. Loyalists, in whose ranks her family held so honourable a
+position, and whose character and sentiments were at all times to
+be depended upon.</p>
+<p>The family of Secord, of which she became so distinguished a
+member, was also a notable one. Family documents exist which show
+that in the reign of Louis the Tenth of France a certain Marquis
+D'Secor was a Marshal of His Majesty's Household. A son of this
+Marquis embraced the Protestant religion, as did younger branches
+of the family. During the persecution of the Huguenots many of them
+suffered at the stake, and the family estates, situated at La
+Rochelle, were confiscated. The survivors escaped the massacre of
+St. Bartholomew by flight to England along with many other noble
+families, among whom were the Comte de Puys, the Baudeaux, and a
+Holland family, the Van Cortlandts.</p>
+<p>Eventually five brothers emigrated to America where they settled
+in New Jersey, purchasing large tracts of land, founding New
+Rochelle and engaging in lumbering. On the breaking out of the
+Revolutionary War the family divided, the Loyalists changing their
+patronym to Secord by placing the prefix "d" at the end of their
+name. These brothers after, as King's men, losing, in common with
+all the Loyalists, their property and estates, emigrated to New
+Brunswick, again engaging in lumbering and milling operations, and;
+there certain of their descendants are to be found today. Some of
+these, and their sons, again removed to Canada West, where one of
+them, commonly called "Deaf John Secord," who married Miss Wartman,
+of Kingston, was known all along the coast from St. John to Quebec
+for his hospitalities. Among those who settled in the Niagara
+district were Stephen Secord, the miller of St. David's, Major
+David Secord, after whom the village was named, and James Secord,
+the husband of the heroine of 1812. Stephen Secord died before the
+War of 1812, leaving a widow and a family of seven sons. Of Major
+David Secord, the only record I have been able to procure is to be
+found in <i>A History of the Late War between Great Britain and the
+United States of America, by David Thompson, late of the Royal
+Scots</i>, as quoted for me by the kind courtesy of Miss Louisa
+Murray, of Stamford. It is as follows: "The Second Lincoln Militia,
+under Major David Secord, distinguished themselves in this action
+[the Battle of Chippewa] by feats of genuine bravery and heroism,
+stimulated by the example of their gallant leader, which are seldom
+surpassed even by the most experienced veterans. Their loss was
+proportionate with that of the regular army."</p>
+<p>At the outbreak of the War of 1812, Mr. James Secord was living
+at Queenston, where he had a lumber mill and stores. He held the
+rank of Captain in the Lincoln Militia until close on the American
+invasion, but resigned in dudgeon at some action of his superior
+officer, and thus it is that in the relation of Mrs. Secord's
+heroic deed he is not designated by any rank. At the first call to
+arms, however, Mr. Secord at once offered his services, <a name=
+"pageiii"><!-- Begin Page III --></a> which were gladly accepted,
+and he was present at the Battle of Queenston Heights. Here he was
+severely wounded in the leg and shoulder, and lay on the field as
+one dead, until rescued by his brave wife. He never fully recovered
+from his wounds, and received an acknowledgment of his voluntary
+services to the Government in the appointment to the post of
+Collector of Customs at the Port of Chippewa, which he held until
+his death in 1841.</p>
+<p>The married life of Mr. and Mrs. Secord was a most happy one.
+Their third daughter, Mrs. Harriet Smith, who still survives, a
+cheerful and vivacious lady of eighty-six, says that her father and
+mother were most devoted to each other, and lived in the closest
+mutual affection.</p>
+<p>At the date of the Battle of Queenston Heights, the family
+consisted of four daughters and one son: Mary&mdash;with whom the
+great Tecumseh is said to have been in love&mdash;who was married
+to Dr. Trumbull, Staff-surgeon to the 37th Regiment, and died in
+Jamaica; Charlotte, "the belle of Canada," who, died during a visit
+to Ireland; Harriet&mdash;Mrs. Smith&mdash;who still survives and
+lives in great retirement with her eldest daughter at Guelph; and
+Appolonia, who died at the early age of eighteen. Charles, the only
+son, lived at Newark, and his surviving children are Mr. James B.
+Secord, of Niagara, and Alicia, Mrs. Isaac Cockburn, of
+Gravenhurst.</p>
+<p>Two daughters were born to Mr. and Mrs. Secord subsequent to the
+war. Hannah, who was married to Mr. Carthew, of Guelph. and died in
+1884, leaving several sons, and Laura, who was married to Dr.
+Clarke, of Palmerston, and died young, leaving one daughter,
+Laura.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smith relates that she very well remembers her mother
+setting off for St. David's, ostensibly to see her brother Charles,
+who lay sick at the mill, and her father's ill-concealed agitation
+during that trying day. What must the night have been to him? She
+also relates that during the short occupation of Queenston by the
+invaders, their soldiery were very tyrannical, entering the houses
+and stores to look for money and help themselves to plunder, and
+even destroying the bedding, by ripping it up with their swords and
+bayonets, in the search. Mrs. Secord who had a store of Spanish
+doubloons, heirlooms, saved them by throwing them into a cauldron
+of water which hung on a crane over a blazing fire. In this she
+unconsciously emulated the ready wit of one of her husband's
+Huguenot progenitors, a lady, who during the persecution that
+followed the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, at a period of
+domiciliary search for incriminating proofs of unorthodoxy, is said
+to have thrown a copy of the Bible&mdash;a doubly precious treasure
+in those days&mdash;into a churn of milk from whence it was
+afterwards rescued little the worse, thanks to heavy binding and
+strong clasps.</p>
+<p>Envy having sent a shaft at even so warm and patriotic a breast
+as that of Mrs. Secord, Col. Fitzgibbon sent her a certificate,
+dated only a short time before his death, vouching to the facts of
+the heroic deed. It was evidently one of the cruel necessities of
+this hard life. The certificate runs as follows:</p>
+<a name="pageiv"><!-- Begin Page IV --></a>
+<center>
+<p>FITZGIBBON'S CERTIFICATE.</p></center>
+<p class="letter">"I do hereby certify that Mrs. Secord, the wife
+of James Secord, of Chippewa, Esq., did, in the month of June,
+1813, walk from her house in the village of St. David's to Decamp's
+house in Thorold, by a circuitous route of about twenty miles,
+partly through the woods, to acquaint me that the enemy intended to
+attempt by surprise to capture a detachment of the 49th Regiment,
+then under my command; she having obtained such knowledge from good
+authority, as the event proved. Mrs. Secord was a person of slight
+and delicate frame; and made the effort in weather excessively
+warm, and I dreaded at the time that she must suffer in health in
+consequence of fatigue and anxiety, she having been exposed to
+danger from the enemy, through whose line of communication she had
+to pass. The attempt was made on my detachment by the enemy, and
+his detachment, consisting of upwards of 500 men, with a
+field-piece and fifty dragoons, was captured in consequence. I
+write this certificate in a moment of much hurry and from memory,
+and it is, therefore, thus brief.<br>
+<br>
+ "(Signed) JAMES FITZGIBBON,<br>
+ "<i>Formerly Lieutenant in the 49th Regiment</i>."</p>
+<p>It is well to consider this great achievement of Mrs. Secord
+carefully, that we may be the better able to realize the greatness
+of the feat. To assist in so doing, it will not be amiss to quote
+the following, from Coffin's <i>Chronicles of the War</i>, bearing
+on the prudential reasons of Proctor's retreat at Moravian Town.
+"But whether for advance or for retreat, the by-paths of the forest
+intermediate were such as the macadamized and locomotive
+imagination of the present day cannot encompass. A backwoodsman,
+laden with his axe, wading here, ploutering there, stumbling over
+rotted trees, protruding stumps, a bit of half-submerged corduroy
+road for one short space, then an adhesive clay bank, then a mile
+or two or more of black muck swamp, may,
+possibly,&mdash;clay-clogged and footsore, and with much pain in
+the small of his back,&mdash;find himself at sundown at the foot of
+a hemlock or cedar, with a fire at his feet, having done manfully
+about ten miles for his day's work." This was written of a time of
+year when the fall rains predict an approaching winter. Mrs.
+Secord's exploit was made on the 23rd of June, a time when the
+early summer rains that set the fruit and consecrate an abundant
+harvest with their blessing, nevertheless make clay banks slippery,
+and streams swift, and of these latter the whole Niagara district
+was full. Many have now been diverted and some dried up. I am happy
+to be able to give my readers the heroine's own simple account of
+her journey, as furnished me by the courtesy of Mr. Benson J.
+Lossing, author of the "Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812,"
+to whom the aged lady in 1862 recounted it in a letter (given in a
+note in Mr. Lossing's book), the historian, on his visit to
+Chippewa in 1860, having failed to see her. She was then
+eighty-five years of age.</p>
+<a name="pagev"><!-- Begin Page V --></a>
+<p>"DEAR SIR,&mdash;I will tell you the story in a few words.</p>
+<p>"After going to St. David's and the recovery of Mr. Secord, we
+returned again to Queenston, where my courage again was much tried.
+It was there I gained the secret plan laid to capture Captain
+Fitzgibbon and his party. I was determined, if possible, to save
+them. I had much difficulty in getting through the American guards.
+They were ten miles out in the country. [Footnote: The American
+sentries were out ten miles into the country; that is, at any point
+commanding a possible line of communication within a radius of ten
+miles from Fort George, Mrs. Secord might come upon an American
+sentry. The deep woods, therefore, were her only security. These
+she must thread to the best of her ability, with what knowledge she
+might possess of the woodman's craft, for even a blazed path was
+not safe. And by this means she must get out of American cover and
+into British lines. To do this she must take a most circuitous
+route, as she tells us, all round "by Twelve-mile Creek," whose
+port is St. Catharines, climbing the ridge that is now cut through
+by the Welland Canal, and thus doubling upon what would have been
+the straight route, and coming on Fitzgibbon from the back, from
+the way of his supports, for Major de Haren lay at Twelve-mile
+Creek, but not within several miles of where the heroine crossed
+it. And it was dark, and within a few hours of the intended
+surprise when she reached it. To go to De Haren, even though it
+might have been nearer at that point&mdash;it may not have been so,
+however&mdash;was a greater risk to Fitzgibbon, whose safety she
+was labouring to secure, than to send him aid which might only
+reach him after the event. Forgetting her exhaustion she proceeds,
+fulfils her errand, and saves her country. <i>And shall that
+country let her memory die</i>?] When I came to a field belonging
+to a Mr. De Cou, in the neighbourhood of the Beaver Dams, I then
+had walked nineteen miles. By that time daylight had left me. I yet
+had a swift stream of water (Twelve-mile Creek) to cross over on an
+old fallen tree, and to climb a high hill, which fatigued me very
+much.</p>
+<p>"Before I arrived at the encampment of the Indians, as I
+approached they all arose with one of their war yells, which,
+indeed, awed me. You may imagine what my feelings were to behold so
+many savages. With forced courage I went to one of the chiefs, told
+him I had great news for his commander, and that he must take me to
+him or they would all be lost. He did not understand me, but said,
+'Woman! What does woman want here?' The scene by moonlight to some
+might have been grand, but to a weak woman certainly terrifying.
+With difficulty I got one of the chiefs to go with me to their
+commander. With the intelligence I gave him he formed his plans and
+saved his country. I have ever found the brave and noble Colonel
+Fitzgibbon a friend to me. May he prosper in the world to come as
+he has done in this.</p>
+LAURA SECORD. <br>
+ "CHIPPEWA, U.C., Feb. 18, 1861." <br>
+
+<p>Mr. Lossing further adds in his letter to me:</p>
+<p>"When, in the summer of 1860, the Prince of Wales visited
+Queenston the veteran soldiers of the Canada side of the Niagara
+frontier signed an address to his Royal Highness; Mrs. Secord
+claimed the privilege of signing it. 'Wherefore?' was asked. She
+told her story, and it was allowed that she <a name="pagevi">
+<!-- Begin Page VI --></a> eminently deserved a place among the
+signers. Her story was repeated to the Prince. He was greatly
+interested, and learning that the heroine had not much of this
+world's goods, sent her $500 soon after his return home, in
+attestation of his appreciation of her patriotism."</p>
+<p>Her sole surviving daughter at this date, says the gift was
+carried to her mother by ten gentlemen who had formed part of the
+Prince's suite.</p>
+<p>A correspondent at Drummondville, to whom I am indebted for
+several Valuable particulars, says: "Mrs. Laura Second is
+remembered here as a fine, tall, strong woman. Strong, too, in
+mind, purpose, determination, and yet womanly and maternal withal.
+She is spoken of as <i>indeed a brave woman</i>, of strong
+patriotism and courage.</p>
+<p>"The difficulties and dangers then, were those of anew,
+uncleared, pathless country increased by lurking foes, and by
+wandering, untaught Indians.</p>
+<p>"In connection with her chief act of heroism the following
+anecdote has been told me:&mdash;Three American soldiers called at
+her log house at Queenston to ask for water. One of them said, 'You
+have a nice place here, missis, when we come for good to this
+country we'll divide the land, and I'll take this here for my
+share.' Mrs. Secord was so nettled by the thoughts expressed that
+although the men were civil and respectful, she replied sharply,
+'You scoundrel you, all you'll ever get here will be six feet of
+earth!'</p>
+<p>"When they were gone her heart reproached her for her heat,
+because the men had not molested her nor her property." (Yet her
+indignation was righteous, since they were invaders in the worst
+sense of the term, having no lawful cause for their invasion.) "Two
+days after two of the men returned. They said to Mrs. Secord, 'You
+were right about the six feet of earth, missis! The third man had
+been killed."</p>
+<p>In speaking of the heroine, Mr. James B. Secord, of Niagara,
+says in a letter to me, "My grandmother was of a modest
+disposition, and did not care to have her exploit mentioned, as she
+did not think she had done any thing extraordinary. She was the
+very last one to mention the affair, and unless asked would never
+say any thing about it."</p>
+<p>This noble-minded and heroic woman died in 1868, aged
+ninety-three years. She lies in Drummondville Churchyard, by the
+side of the husband she loved so well. Nothing but a simple
+headstone, half defaced, marks the place where the sacred ashes
+lie. But surely we who enjoy the happiness she so largely secured
+for us, we who have known how to honour Brock and Brant, will also
+know how to, honour Tecumseh and LAURA SECORD; the heroine as well
+as the heroes of our Province&mdash;of our common
+Dominion&mdash;and will no longer delay to do it, lest Time should
+snatch the happy opportunity from us.</p>
+S. A. C. <br>
+ TORONTO, 4th August, 1887.
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<a name="pagevii"><!-- Begin Page VII --></a>
+<p>NOTE.&mdash;The headstone of Laura Secord is three feet high,
+and eighteen inches wide, and has the following:</p>
+<center>HERE RESTS<br>
+ LAURA,<br>
+ BELOVED WIFE OF JAMES SECORD,<br>
+ Died, Oct. 17, 1868.<br>
+ <i>Aged 93 years</i>.</center>
+<p>The headstone of her husband has the following:</p>
+<center>IN MEMORY OF<br>
+ JAMES SECORD, SENR.,<br>
+ COLLECTOR OF CUSTOMS,<br>
+ Who departed this life on the 22nd day of Feb., 1841,<br>
+ <i>In the 68th year of his age</i>.<br>
+<br>
+ Universally and deservedly lamented as a sincere Friend,<br>
+ a kind and indulgent Parent, and an affectionate Husband.</center>
+<a name="page009"><!-- Begin Page 9 --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2><a name="secord">LAURA SECORD:</a></h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF 1812.</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<a name="page010"><!-- Begin Page 10 --></a>
+<h3>DRAMATIS PERSONAE.</h3>
+<hr>
+<br>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;"><i>British</i>:</p>
+<p>LAURA SECORD, <i>the Heroine, wife of</i> James Secord.</p>
+<p>ELIZABETH SECORD, <i>widow of</i> Stephen Secord, <i>the Miller
+at St. David's</i>.</p>
+<p>MARY, <i>a girl of thirteen, daughter of</i> James and Laura
+Secord.</p>
+<p>CHARLOTTE, <i>her sister</i>.</p>
+<p>HARRIET, <i>her sister</i>.</p>
+<p>BABETTE, <i>the maid at the</i> Mill.</p>
+<p>A WOMAN, <i>the keeper of a roadside tavern at</i> Beaver
+Dams.</p>
+<p>JAMES SECORD, <i>a wounded militia officer, home on sick leave,
+husband of</i> Laura Secord.</p>
+<p>LIEUTENANT FITZGIBBON, <i>a British officer holding the post
+at</i> Beaver Dams.</p>
+<p>MAJOR DE HAREN, <i>a British officer lying at</i> St. Catharines
+<i>with his command</i>.</p>
+<p>COLONEL THOMAS CLARKE, <i>A Canadian militia officer</i>.</p>
+<p>SERGEANT GEORGE MOSIER, <i>an old Pensioner, and</i> U. E.
+Loyalist <i>of 1776</i>.</p>
+<p>MISHE-MO-QUA (The Great Bear), <i>a Mohawk Chief</i>.</p>
+<p>JOHN PENN, <i>a farmer (Harvey's Quaker)</i>.</p>
+<p>GEORGE JARVIS, <i>a Cadet of the 49th Regiment</i>.</p>
+<p><i>A</i> Sergeant <i>of the 8th Regiment</i>.</p>
+<p><i>A</i> Sergeant <i>of the 49th Regiment</i>.</p>
+<p>JAMES CUMMINGS, <i>a Corporal of Militia</i>.</p>
+<p>ROARING BILL, <i>a Private in the 49th Regiment</i>.</p>
+<p>JACK, <i>a Private in the 49th Regiment</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Other</i> Soldiers <i>of the 49th, 8th, or King's Own, and
+104th Regiments</i>.</p>
+<p>Militiamen, <i>Canadians</i>.</p>
+<p>Indians, <i>British Allies, chiefly Mohawks</i>.</p>
+<p>TOM, <i>a child of six, son of the</i> Widow Secord.</p>
+<p>ARCHY, <i>a little Boy at</i> St. David's Mill.</p>
+<p>CHARLES, <i>a boy of four, son of</i> James <i>and</i> Laura
+Secord.</p>
+<p><i>Other</i> Boys <i>of various ages from eight to
+sixteen</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;"><i>American</i>:</p>
+<p>COLONEL BOERSTLER, <i>an American officer</i>.</p>
+<p>CAPTAIN MCDOWELL, <i>an American officer</i>.</p>
+<p>PETE <i>and</i> FLOS, <i>slaves</i>.</p>
+<p><i>A large body of American soldiers, infantry, dragoons and
+artillerymen</i>.</p>
+<a name="page011"><!-- Begin Page 11 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h2>LAURA SECORD:<br>
+ THE HEROINE OF THE WAR OF 1812.</h2>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>ACT I.</h3>
+<h4>SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>Queenston. A farmhouse</i>.</h4>
+<p>John Penn, a Quaker, <i>is seated on a chair tilted against the
+wall</i>. Mr. Secord, <i>his arm in a sling, reclines on a couch,
+against the end of which a crutch is is placed</i>. Mrs. Secord,
+<i>occupies a rocking-chair near the lounge</i>. Charlie, <i>a
+little fellow of four, is seated on her lap holding a ball of yarn
+from which she is knitting</i>. Charlotte, <i>a girl of twelve, is
+seated on a stool set a little in rear of the couch; she has a
+lesson-book in her hand</i>. Harriet, <i>a girl of ten, occupies a
+stool near her sister, and has a slate on her lap. All are
+listening intently to the</i> Quaker, <i>who is speaking</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. The midnight sky, set thick with shining
+points,<br>
+ Hung watchingly, while from a band of gloom<br>
+ That belted in the gloomier woods, stole forth<br>
+ Foreshortened forms of grosser shade, all barred<br>
+ With lines of denser blackness, dexter-borne.<br>
+ Rank after rank, they came, out of the dark,<br>
+ So silently no pebble crunched beneath<br>
+ Their feet more sharp than did a woodchuck stir.<br>
+ And so came on the foe all stealthily,<br>
+ And found their guns a-limber, fires ablaze,<br>
+ And men in calm repose.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; With
+bay'nets fixed<br>
+ The section in advance fell on the camp,<br>
+ And killed the first two sentries, whose sharp cries<br>
+ Alarmed a third, who fired, and firing, fled.<br>
+ This roused the guard, but "Forward!" was the word,<br>
+ And on we rushed, slaying full many a man<br>
+ Who woke not in this world.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The
+'larum given,<br>
+ <a name="page012"><!-- Begin Page 12 --></a> A-sudden rose such
+hubbub and confusion<br>
+ As is made by belching earthquake. Waked from sleep,<br>
+ Men stumbled over men, and angry cries<br>
+ Resounded. Surprised, yet blenching not,<br>
+ Muskets were seized and shots at random fired<br>
+ E'en as they fled. Yet rallied they when ours,<br>
+ At word from Harvey, fell into line,<br>
+ And stood, right 'mid the fires, to flint their locks&mdash;<br>
+ An awful moment!&mdash;<br>
+ As amid raging storms the warring heaven<br>
+ Falls sudden silent, and concentrates force<br>
+ To launch some scathing bolt upon the earth,<br>
+ So hung the foe, hid in portentous gloom,<br>
+ While in the lurid light ours halted. Quick,<br>
+ Red volcanic fire burst from their lines<br>
+ And mowed us where we stood!<br>
+ Full many a trembling hand that set a flint<br>
+ Fell lifeless ere it clicked: <i>yet silent all</i>&mdash;<br>
+ Save groans of wounded&mdash;till our rods struck home;<br>
+ Then, flashing fire for fire, forward we rushed<br>
+ And scattered them like chaff before the wind.<br>
+ The King's Own turned their left; the Forty-ninth,<br>
+ At point of bay'net, pushed the charge, and took<br>
+ Their guns, they fighting valiantly, but wild,<br>
+ Having no rallying point, their leaders both<br>
+ Lying the while all snug at Jemmy Gap's.<br>
+ And so the men gave in at last, and fled,<br>
+ And Stony Creek was ours.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Brave Harvey! Gallantly planned and
+carried.<br>
+ The stroke is good, the consequences better.<br>
+ Cooped as he is in George, the foe will lack<br>
+ His forage, and perforce must&mdash;eat his stores;<br>
+ For Yeo holds the lake, and on the land<br>
+ His range is scarce beyond his guns. And more,<br>
+ He is the less by these of men to move<br>
+ On salient points, and long as we hold firm<br>
+ <a name="page013"><!-- Begin Page 13 --></a> At Erie, Burlington,
+and Stony Creek,<br>
+ He's like the wretched bird, he "can't get out."</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. You speak, friend Penn, as if you saw the
+fight,<br>
+ Not like a simple bearer of the news.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. Why, so I did.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. You did! Pray tell us how it was;<br>
+ For ever have I heard that Quakers shunned<br>
+ The sight of blood.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. None more than I.<br>
+ Yet innate forces sometimes tell o'er use<br>
+ Against our will. But this was how it happed:<br>
+ Thou seest, Mistress Secord, I'd a load<br>
+ Of sound potatoes, that I thought to take<br>
+ To Vincent's camp, but on the way I met<br>
+ A British officer, who challenged me; saith he,<br>
+ "Friend, whither bound?" "Up to the Heights," say I,<br>
+ "To sell my wares." "Better," saith he,<br>
+ "Go to the Yankee camp; they'll pay a price<br>
+ Just double ours, for we are short of cash."<br>
+ "I'll risk the pay," say I, "for British troops;<br>
+ Nay, if we're poor, I can afford the load,<br>
+ And p'rhaps another, for my country's good."<br>
+ "And say'st thou so, my Quaker! Yet," saith he,<br>
+ "I hear you Quakers will not strike a blow<br>
+ To guard your country's rights, nor yet your own."<br>
+ "No, but we'll hold the stakes," cried I. He laughed.<br>
+ "Can't you do more, my friend?" quoth he, "I need<br>
+ A closer knowledge of the Yankee camp:<br>
+ How strong it is, and how it lies. A brush<br>
+ Is imminent, and one must win, you know<br>
+ Shall they?"<br>
+ His manner was so earnest that, before<br>
+ I knew, I cried, "Not if I know it, man!"<br>
+ With a bright smile he answered me, "There spoke<br>
+ A Briton." Then he directed me<br>
+ How I might sell my load, what I should mark,<br>
+ <a name="page014"><!-- Begin Page 14 --></a> And when report to
+him my observations.<br>
+ So, after dusk, I met him once again,<br>
+ And told him all I knew. It pleased him much.<br>
+ Warmly he shook my hand. "I am," saith he,<br>
+ "Lieutenant-Colonel Harvey. Should it hap<br>
+ That I can ever serve you, let me know."</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. And then you stayed to see the end of
+it?</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. Mistress, I did. Somewhat against my creed,<br>
+ I freely own; for what should I, a Quaker,<br>
+ E'er have to do with soldiers, men of blood!<br>
+ I mean no slight to you, James.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i> (<i>laughing</i>). No, no! go on.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. Well, when I thought how tired poor Dobbin
+was,<br>
+ How late the hour, and that 'twould be a week<br>
+ Before I'd hear how Harvey sped that night,<br>
+ I thought I'd stay and see the matter out;<br>
+ The more, because I kind o' felt as if<br>
+ Whatever happed I'd had a hand in it.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. And pray where did you hide? for hide you
+must,<br>
+ So near the Yankee lines.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. It wasn't hard to do; I knew the ground,<br>
+ Being a hired boy on that very farm,<br>
+ Now Jemmy Gap's. There was an elm, where once<br>
+ I used to sit and watch for chipmunks, that I clomb,<br>
+ And from its shade could see the Yankee camp,<br>
+ Its straggling line, its fires, its careless watch;<br>
+ And from the first I knew the fight was ours,<br>
+ If Harvey struck that night.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Ha! ha! friend John, thine is a soldier's
+brain<br>
+ Beneath that Quaker hat.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i> (<i>in some embarrassment, rising</i>).<br>
+ No, no, I am a man of peace, and hate<br>
+ The very name of war. I must be gone.</p>
+<p>(<i>To Mrs. Secord</i>.) My woman longs to see thee,
+Mistress.<br>
+ Good-bye to all.</p>
+<p><i>The Little Girls</i> (<i>rising</i>). Good-bye, sir.</p>
+<a name="page015"><!-- Begin Page 15 --></a>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Good-bye, John,<br>
+ 'Twould please me much to see my friend again,<br>
+ But war blots out the sweet amenities<br>
+ Of life. Give her my love.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. I will.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i> (<i>rising and taking his crutch</i>). I'll
+walk a piece with you, friend Penn,<br>
+ And see you past the lines.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>His little daughter</i>, HARRIET, <i>hands him
+his hat</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Quaker</i>. That's right, 'twill do thee good:<br>
+ Thy wounds have left thee like an ailing girl,<br>
+ So poor and pale.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exeunt</i> Quaker <i>and</i> MR. SECORD.</p>
+<p><i>Charlotte</i>. Oh, dear, I wish I were a man, to fight<br>
+ In such brave times as these!</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MARY, <i>a girl of fourteen</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Mary</i>. Were wishing aught<br>
+ Soon should another sword strike for the King,<br>
+ And those dear rights now rudely overlooked.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. My child?</p>
+<p><i>Mary</i>. Oh naught, mamma, save the old tale: no nook<br>
+ That's not invaded, even one's books<br>
+ Borrowed without one's leave. I hate it all!</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. We must be patient, dear, it cannot
+last.</p>
+<p><i>Harriet</i>. Oh, if we girls were boys, or Charles a man!</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Poor baby Charles! See, he's asleep; and
+now,<br>
+ Dear girls, seeing we cannot fight, we'll pray<br>
+ That peace may come again, for strife and blood,<br>
+ Though wisely spent, are taxes hard to pay.<br>
+ But come, 'tis late! See Charlie's dropt asleep;<br>
+ Sing first your evening hymn, and then to bed.<br>
+ I'll lay the darling down.</p>
+<center><i>Exit</i> MRS. SECORD, <i>with the child in her
+arms</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Charlotte</i>. You start it, Mary.</p>
+<a name="page016"><!-- Begin Page 16 --></a>
+<p><i>Children sing</i>&mdash;</p>
+<center>HYMN.</center>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Softly as falls the evening shade,<br>
+ On our bowed heads Thy hands be laid;<br>
+ Surely as fades the parting light,<br>
+ Our sleep be safe and sweet to-night<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Calmly, securely, may we rest,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; As on a tender father's breast.<br>
+<br>
+ Let War's black pinions soar away,<br>
+ And dove-like Peace resume her sway,<br>
+ Our King, our country, be Thy care,<br>
+ Nor ever fail of childhood's prayer.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Calmly, securely, may we rest<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; As on a tender father's breast.<br></td></tr></table>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exeunt</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 2.&mdash;<i>The same place and the same hour</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. SECORD.</center>
+<br>
+ After a weary day the evening falls<br>
+ With gentle benison of peace and rest.<br>
+ The deep'ning dusk draws, like a curtain, round,<br>
+ And gives the soul a twilight of its own;<br>
+ A soft, sweet time, full of refreshing dews,<br>
+ And subtle essences of memory<br>
+ And reflection. O gentle peace, when&mdash;<br>
+ <br>
+
+<center><i>Enter</i> PETE, <i>putting his head in at the
+door</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Pete</i>. O, mistis! Heh, mistis!</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. What now, Pete?</p>
+<p><i>Pete</i>. Oh, mistis, dat yar sergeant ossifer&mdash;<br>
+ Dat sassy un what call me "Woolly-bear."<br>
+ An' kick my shin, he holler 'crass to me:&mdash;<br>
+ "You, Pete, jes' you go in, an' tell Ma'am Secord<br>
+ I'se comin' in ter supper wiv some frens."<br>
+ He did jes' so&mdash;a sassy scamp.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. To-night? At this hour?</p>
+<p><i>Pete</i>. Yes, mistis; jes', jes' now. I done tell Flos<br>
+ <a name="page017"><!-- Begin Page 17 --></a> Ter put her bes' leg
+fus', fer I mus' go<br>
+ An' ten' dat poo', sick hoss.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Nay, you'll do nothing of the kind! You'll
+stay<br>
+ And wait upon these men. I'll not have Flos<br>
+ Left single-handed by your cowardice.</p>
+<p><i>Pete</i>. I aint a coward-ef I hed a club;<br>
+ Dat poo', sick hoss&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Nonsense! Go call me Flos, and see you play
+no tricks to-night.</p>
+<p><i>Pete</i>. No, mistis, no; no tricks. [<i>Aside</i>. Ef I'd a
+club!]</p>
+<p><i>He calls from the door</i>: Flos! Flos! Ma'am Secord wants
+ye.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i> (<i>spreading a cloth upon the table)</i>.
+God help us if these men much longer live<br>
+ Upon our failing stores.</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> FLOS.</center>
+<p>What have you got to feed these fellows, Flos?</p>
+<p><i>Flos</i>. De mistis knows it aint much, pas' noo bread,<br>
+ An' two&mdash;three pies. I've sot some bacon sisslin',<br>
+ An' put some taties on when Pete done tole me.</p>
+<p><i>Pete</i>. Give 'em de cider, mistis, an' some beer,<br>
+ And let 'em drink 'em drunk till mas'r come<br>
+ An' tell me kick 'em out.</p>
+<p><i>Flos</i>. You!&mdash;jes' hol' yer sassy tongue.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Footsteps are heard without</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Pete</i>. Dat's um. Dey's comin'. Dat poo', sick
+hoss&mdash;</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He makes for the door</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. You, Pete, come back and lay this cloth,<br>
+ And wait at table properly with Flos.</p>
+<center><i>Enter a</i> Sergeant, <i>a</i> Corporal <i>and four</i>
+Privates.</center>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i> (<i>striking Pete on the head with his
+cane</i>). That's for your ugly phiz and impudence.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> PETE, <i>howling</i>.</p>
+<p>(<i>To Mrs. Secord</i>.) Your slaves are saucy, Mistress
+Secord.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Well, sir!</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. None of my business, eh? Well, 'tis
+sometimes,<br>
+ You see. You got my message: what's to eat?</p>
+<a name="page018"><!-- Begin Page 18 --></a>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. My children's food, sir. This nor post-house
+is,<br>
+ Nor inn, to take your orders.</p>
+<p class="stage">[FLOS <i>and</i> PETE <i>enter, carrying
+dishes</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. O, bless you, we don't order; we command.<br>
+ Here, men, sit down.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He seats himself at the head of the table, and
+the others take their places, some of them greeting</i> MRS. SECORD
+<i>with a salute of respect</i>.</p>
+Boy, fill those jugs. You girl,<br>
+ Set that dish down by me, and haste with more.<br>
+ Bacon's poor stuff when lamb and mint's in season.<br>
+ Why don't you kill that lamb, Ma'am Secord?<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. 'Tis a child's pet.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. O, pets be hanged!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> MRS. SECORD.</p>
+<p><i>Corporal</i>. Poor thing! I'm sure none of us want the
+lamb.</p>
+<p><i>A Private</i>. We'll have it, though, and more, if
+Boerstler&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Corporal</i>. Hold your tongue, you&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Second Private</i> (<i>drinking</i>). Here's good luck, my
+boys, to that surprise&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Corporal (aside)</i>. Fool!</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant (drinking)</i>. Here's to to-morrow and a cloudy
+night.<br>
+ Fill all your glasses, boys.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 3.&mdash;<i>Mrs. Secord's bedroom. She is walking up and
+down in much agitation</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MR. SECORD.</center>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i> (<i>springing to meet him</i>). Oh, James,
+where have you been?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. I did but ramble through the pasture,
+dear,<br>
+ And round the orchard. 'Twas so sweet and still.<br>
+ Save for the echo of the sentry's tread<br>
+ O'er the hard road, it might have been old times.<br>
+ But&mdash;but&mdash;you're agitated, dear; what's wrong?<br>
+ I see our unasked visitors were here.<br>
+ Was that&mdash;?</p>
+<a name="page019"><!-- Begin Page 19 --></a>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Not that; yet that. Oh, James, I scarce can
+bear<br>
+ The stormy swell that surges o'er my heart,<br>
+ Awaked by what they have revealed this night.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Dear wife, what is't?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Oh, sit you down and rest, for you will
+need<br>
+ All strength you may command to hear me tell.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Mr. Secord sits down, his wife by him</i>.</p>
+That saucy fellow, Winter, and a guard<br>
+ Came and demanded supper; and, of course,<br>
+ They had to get it. Pete and Flos I left<br>
+ To wait on them, but soon they sent them off,<br>
+ Their jugs supplied,&mdash;and fell a-talking, loud,<br>
+ As in defiance, of some private plan<br>
+ To make the British wince. Word followed word,<br>
+ Till I, who could not help but hear their gibes,<br>
+ Suspected mischief, and, listening, learned the whole.<br>
+ To-morrow night a large detachment leaves<br>
+ Fort George for Beaver Dam. Five hundred men,<br>
+ With some dragoons, artillery, and a train<br>
+ Of baggage-waggons, under Boerstler, go<br>
+ To fall upon Fitzgibbon by surprise,<br>
+ Capture the stores, and pay for Stony Creek.<br>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. My God! and here am I, a paroled cripple!<br>
+ Oh, Canada, my chosen country! Now&mdash;<br>
+ Is't now, in this thy dearest strait, I fail?<br>
+ I, who for thee would pour my blood with joy&mdash;<br>
+ Would give my life for thy prosperity&mdash;<br>
+ Most I stand by, and see thy foes prevail<br>
+ Without one thrust?</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>In his agitation he rises</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Oh, calm thee, dear; thy strength is all to
+me.<br>
+ Fitzgibbon shall be warned, or aid be sent.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. But how, wife? how? Let this attempt
+succeed,<br>
+ As well it may, and vain last year's success;<br>
+ In vain fell Brock: in vain was Queenston fought:<br>
+ In vain we pour out blood and gold in streams:<br>
+ <a name="page020"><!-- Begin Page 20 --></a> For Dearborn then may
+push his heavy force<br>
+ Along the lakes, with long odds in his favour.<br>
+ And I, unhappy wretch, in such a strait<br>
+ Am here, unfit for service. Thirty men<br>
+ Are all Fitzgibbon has to guard the stores<br>
+ And keep a road 'twixt Bisshopp and De Haren.<br>
+ Those stores, that road, would give the Yankee all.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Why, be content now, dear. Had we not
+heard,<br>
+ This plot might have passed on to its dire end,<br>
+ Like the pale owl that noiseless cleaves the dark,<br>
+ And, on its dreaming prey, swoops with fell claw.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. What better is it?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. This; that myself will go to Beaver Dam,<br>
+ And warn Fitzgibbon: there is yet a day.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Thou! thou take a task at which a man might
+shrink?<br>
+ No, no, dear wife! Not so.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Ay, prithee, let me go;<br>
+ 'Tis not so far. And I can pass unharmed<br>
+ Where you would be made prisoner, or worse.<br>
+ They'll not hurt me&mdash;my sex is my protection.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Oh, not in times like these. Let them
+suspect<br>
+ A shadow wrong, and neither sex, nor tears,<br>
+ Nor tenderness would save thy fate.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Fear not for me. I'll be for once so
+wise<br>
+ The sentries shall e'en put me on my way.<br>
+ Once past the lines, the dove is not more swift<br>
+ Nor sure to find her distant home than I<br>
+ To reach Fitzgibbon. Say I may go.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i> (<i>putting his arm 'round her tenderly</i>).
+How can I let thee go? Thy tender feet<br>
+ Would bleed ere half the way was done. Thy strength<br>
+ Would fail 'twixt the rough road and summer heat,<br>
+ And in some, gloomy depth, faint and alone,<br>
+ Thou would'st lie down to die. Or, chased and hurt<br>
+ By wolf or catamount, thy task undone,<br>
+ <a name="page021"><!-- Begin Page 21 --></a> Thy precious life
+would then be thrown away.<br>
+ I cannot let thee go.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Not thrown away! Nay, say not that, dear
+James.<br>
+ No life is thrown away that's spent in doing duty.<br>
+ But why raise up these phantoms of dismay?<br>
+ I did not so when, at our country's call,<br>
+ You leapt to answer. Said I one word<br>
+ To keep you back? and yet my risk was greater<br>
+ Then than now&mdash;a woman left with children<br>
+ On a frontier farm, where yelling savages,<br>
+ Urged on, or led, by renegades, might burn,<br>
+ And kill, and outrage with impunity<br>
+ Under the name of war. Yet I blenched not,<br>
+ But helped you clean your musket, clasped your belt,<br>
+ And sent you forth, with many a cheery word.<br>
+ Did I not so?</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Thou didst indeed, dear wife, thou didst.<br>
+ But yet,&mdash;<br>
+ I cannot let thee go, my darling.<br>
+ Did I not promise in our marriage vow,<br>
+ And to thy mother, to guard thee as myself.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. And so you will if now you let me go.<br>
+ For you would go yourself, without a word<br>
+ Of parley, were you able; leaving me<br>
+ The while in His good hands; not doubting once<br>
+ But I was willing. Leave me there now, James,<br>
+ And let me go; it is our country calls.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Ah, dearest wife, thou dost not realize<br>
+ All my deep promise, "guard thee as myself?"<br>
+ I meant to guard thee doubly, trebly more.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. There you were wrong. The law says
+"<i>as</i> thyself<br>
+ Thou shalt regard thy neighbour."</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. My neighbour! Then is that all that thou
+art<br>
+ To me, thy husband? Shame! thou lovest me not.<br>
+ My neighbour!</p>
+<a name="page022"><!-- Begin Page 22 --></a>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Why now, fond ingrate! What saith <i>the
+Book?</i><br>
+ "THE GOOD, with all thy soul and mind and strength;<br>
+ Thy neighbour as thyself." Thou must <i>not</i> love<br>
+ Thyself, nor me, as thou <i>must</i> love the Good.<br>
+ Therefore, I am thy neighbour; loved as thyself:<br>
+ And as thyself wouldst go to warn Fitzgibbon<br>
+ If thou wert able, so I, being able,<br>
+ Thou must let me go&mdash;thy other self.<br>
+ Pray let me go!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i> (<i>after a pause</i>). Thou shalt, dear wife,
+thou shalt. I'll say no more.<br>
+ Thy courage meets the occasion. Hope shall be<br>
+ My standard-bearer, and put to shame<br>
+ The cohorts black anxiety calls up.<br>
+ But how shall I explain to prying folks<br>
+ Thine absence?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Say I am gone to see my brother,<br>
+ 'Tis known he's sick; and if I venture now<br>
+ 'Twill serve to make the plot seem still secure.<br>
+ I must start early.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Yet not too soon, lest ill surmise<br>
+ Aroused by guilty conscience doubt thy aim.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. That's true.<br>
+ Yet at this time of year do travellers start<br>
+ Almost at dawn to avoid the midday heats.<br>
+ Tell not the children whither I am bound;<br>
+ Poor darlings! Soon enough anxiety<br>
+ Will fall upon them; 'tis the heritage<br>
+ Of all; high, low, rich, poor; he chiefly blest<br>
+ Who travels farthest ere he meets the foe.<br>
+ There's much to do to leave the household straight,<br>
+ I'll not retire to-night.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Oh, yes, dear wife, thou shalt not spend thy
+strength<br>
+ On household duties, for thou'lt need it all<br>
+ Ere thy long task be done. O, but I fear&mdash;</p>
+<a name="page023"><!-- Begin Page 23 --></a>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i> (<i>quickly</i>). Fear nothing!<br>
+ Trust heaven and do your best, is wiser.<br>
+ Should I meet harm,'twill be in doing duty:<br>
+ Fail I shall not!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Retire, dear wife, and rest; I'll watch the
+hours<br>
+ Beside thee.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. No need to watch me, James, I shall
+awake.</p>
+<br>
+ [<i>Aside</i>. And yet perhaps 'tis best.<br>
+ If he wake now he'll sleep to-morrow<br>
+ Perforce of nature; and banish thus<br>
+ Some hours of sad anxiety.]<br>
+
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. I'd better watch.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Well then, to please you! But call me on the
+turn<br>
+ Of night, lest I should lose an hour or two<br>
+ Of cooler travel.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 4&mdash;<i>Daybreak on the</i> 23<i>rd June</i>,
+1813.</h4>
+<center><i>The porch of</i> Mr. Secord's <i>farmhouse. A garden
+path, with a gate that opens on to the high road from Newark to
+Twelve-Mile Creek</i>.<br>
+
+<p><i>Enter</i> JAMES SECORD <i>and his wife</i>.</p></center>
+<p><i>Mr. Secord</i>. Heaven speed thee, then, dear wife. I'll try
+to bear<br>
+ The dreadful pangs of helplessness and dread<br>
+ With calm demeanour, if a bursting heart.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Then will you taste a woman's common lot<br>
+ In times of strait, while I essay man's r&ocirc;le<br>
+ Of fierce activity. We will compare<br>
+ When I return. Now, fare-thee-well, my husband.</p>
+<p>(<i>Fearful of being observed, they part without an embrace</i>.
+Mrs. Secord <i>walks down the garden slowly, and gathers a few
+clove pinks; a the gate she stops as though the latch were
+troublesome, raises the flowers to her lips, and makes a slight
+salute to her husband, who yet stands within the porch watching
+<a name="page024"><!-- Begin Page 24 --></a> her. She then rapidly
+pursues her way, but soon encounters an American sentry, whom she
+essays to pass with a nod and a smile: the man prevents her by
+bringing his musket to the charge, and challenging</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Why do you stop me?</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. Where is your pass?<br>
+ You know that none may take the road without one.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. But surely I may go to milk my cow,<br>
+ Yonder she is.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>A cow is seen in the clearing</i>.</p>
+She's wandered in the night.<br>
+ I'll drive her back again, poor thing.<br>
+ She likes new pasture best, as well she may.<br>
+
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. Keep you your kine at home, you've land
+enough.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Why, that's our land, and those our barns
+and sheds.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. Well, pass!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He suddenly observes the flowers</i>.</p>
+<p>But where's your milking pail?<br>
+ I guess the bunch of flowers is for the cow.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i> (<i>gently</i>). You are too rough! The pinks
+weep dewy tears<br>
+ Upon my hand to chide you. There, take them;</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She offers him the flowers</i>.</p>
+<p>And let their fragrance teach you courtesy,<br>
+ At least to women. You can watch me.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. Madam, suspicion blunts politeness. Pass.<br>
+ I'll take your flowers, and thank you, too;<br>
+ 'Tis long since that I saw their fellows in<br>
+ The old folks' garden.</p>
+<p>(Mrs. Secord <i>crosses the road, takes a rail out of the fence,
+which she replaces after having passed into the clearing, and
+proceeds to the barn, whence she brings an old pail, luckily left
+there, and approaches the cow</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i> (<i>aside</i>). Could I but get her out of
+sight, I'd drive<br>
+ The creature round the other way, and go<br>
+ My own. Pray Heaven the sentry watch me not<br>
+ Too closely; his manner roused my fears.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She waves her hand at the cow, which moves
+on</i>.</p>
+Co' boss! co' boss. Sh! Haste thee, poor cow;<br>
+ <a name="page025"><!-- Begin Page 25 --></a> Fly from me! though
+never didst thou yet:<br>
+ Nor should'st do now, but for the stake I play.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>Both disappear in the bush</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i> (<i>apostrophising the disappearing "enemy"</i>).
+Well, mistress, were you gentle as your face,<br>
+ The creature wouldn't run you such a race.<br>
+ It serves you right! The cows my Anna milks,<br>
+ Come at her call, like chickens. O, sweet voice,<br>
+ When shall I hear you next? Even as I pace<br>
+ With measured step this hot and dusty road,<br>
+ The soft June breezes take your tones, and call,<br>
+ "Come, Henry, come." Would that I could!<br>
+ Would I had never joined!<br>
+ But my hot blood o'ermastered my cool sense,<br>
+ Nor let me see that always is not bought<br>
+ Honour by arms, but often dire disgrace.<br>
+ For so it is, as now I clearly see,<br>
+ We let the animal within remain<br>
+ Unbroke, till neither gyve nor gear will serve<br>
+ To steady him, only a knock-down blow.<br>
+ Had I, and others, too, within the ranks,<br>
+ Haltered our coltish blood, we should have found<br>
+ That hate to England, not our country's name<br>
+ And weal, impelled mad Madison upon this war;<br>
+ And shut the mouths of thousand higher men<br>
+ Than he.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It is
+a lesson may I learn<br>
+ So as to ne'er forget, that in the heat of words<br>
+ Sparks oft are struck that should be straightway quenched<br>
+ In cool reflection; not enlarged and fed<br>
+ With passionate tinder, till a flame is blown<br>
+ That reaches past our bonds, and leaves behind<br>
+ Black, sullen stumps where once the green trees grew.<br>
+ If honour's what we want, there's room enough<br>
+ For that, and wild adventure, too, in the West,<br>
+ At half the cost of war, in opening up<br>
+ A road shall reach the great Pacific.<br>
+ (<i>A step</i>). Ha! Who goes there?</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page026"><!-- Begin Page 26 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 5.&mdash;<i>The Road at the foot of Queenston
+Heights</i>.</h4>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i> (<i>looking in the direction of her
+home</i>). Gone! Gone! Quite out of sight! Farewell, my home,<br>
+ Casket that holds my jewels! If no more<br>
+ My happy eyes rest on thy lowly roof,<br>
+ If never more my ears drink in the sounds<br>
+ Of sweeter music, in your loving tones,<br>
+ My darlings, than e'er was drawn from harp<br>
+ The best attuned, by wandering Aeolus,<br>
+ Then let my memory, like some fond relic laid<br>
+ In musk and lavender, softly exhale<br>
+ A thousand tender thoughts to soothe and bless;<br>
+ And let my love hide in your heart of hearts,<br>
+ And with ethereal touch control your lives,<br>
+ Till in that better home we meet again.</p>
+<p>(<i>She covers her face with her hands, and weeps unrestrainedly
+for a few seconds, then recovers herself, and raises her hands in
+prayer</i>.)</p>
+Guard them and me, O Heaven.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>She resumes her journey, but still gazes In
+the direction of the Heights</i>.</p>
+<p>And Brock! McDonnell! Dennis!<br>
+ All ye hero band, who fell on yonder Heights!<br>
+ If I should fall, give me a place among ye,<br>
+ And a name will be my children's pride,<br>
+ For all&mdash;my all&mdash;I risk, as ye, to save<br>
+ My country.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i>.</p>
+<a name="page027"><!-- Begin Page 27 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>ACT II.</h3>
+<h4>SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>The great kitchen at St. David's Mill.
+Breakfast-time</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>At the board are seated the</i> Widow Stephen Secord,
+Sergeant George Mosier, <i>and little</i> Tom. Babette <i>is
+waiting at table</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. 'Tis pitiful to see one's land go waste<br>
+ For want of labour, and the summer days,<br>
+ So rich in blessing, spend their fruitful force<br>
+ On barren furrows. And then to think<br>
+ That over both the Provinces it is the same,&mdash;<br>
+ No men to till the land, because the war<br>
+ Needs every one. God knows how we shall feed<br>
+ Next year: small crop, small grist,&mdash;a double loss<br>
+ To me. The times are anxious.<br>
+ (<i>To Sergeant Mosier</i>.) Have you news?</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. Not much, ma'am, all is pretty quiet still<br>
+ Since Harvey struck them dumb at Stony Creek.<br>
+ Along the Lake bold Yeo holds them fast,<br>
+ And, Eric-way, Bisshopp and Evans back him.<br>
+ Thus stand we now; but Proctor's all too slow.<br>
+ O had we Brock again, bold, wise, and prompt,<br>
+ That foreign rag that floats o'er Newark's spires<br>
+ Would soon go down, and England's ensign up.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Ah, was he not a man! and yet so sweet,<br>
+ So courteous, and so gentle.</p>
+<p><i>Babette</i>. <i>Ah, oui, madame</i>.<br>
+ So kind! not one rough word he ever had,<br>
+ The <i>G&eacute;n&eacute;ral</i>, but bow so low, "<i>Merci,
+Babette</i>,"<br>
+ For glass of milk, <i>et petit chose comme &ccedil;a</i>.<br>
+ Ah, long ago it must be he was French:<br>
+ Some <i>grand seigneur, sans doute</i>, in Guernsey then.<br>
+ Ah the brave man, madame, <i>c&eacute; hero la!</i></p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Yes, brave indeed, Babette, but English,
+English.<br>
+ Oh, bravery, good girl, is born of noble hearts,<br>
+ And calls the world its country, and its sex<br>
+ Humanity.</p>
+<a name="page028"><!-- Begin Page 28 --></a>
+<p><i>Babette</i>. Madame?</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. You do not understand me, not; but you<br>
+ Were very brave and noble-hearted when<br>
+ You faced the wolf that scented the young lambs.</p>
+<p><i>Babette</i>. <i>Brave! moi!</i> Madame is kind to say it
+so.<br>
+ But bravery of women&mdash;what is that<br>
+ To bravery of man?</p>
+<p><i>Tom</i>. An' that's just what I said to Hatty, mother,<br>
+ When she declared that Aunty Laura was<br>
+ As brave as soldiers, 'cause she went an' fetched<br>
+ Poor Uncle James from off the battlefield.<br>
+ After the fight was over. That wasn't much!</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. You're but an ignorant little boy, my son,<br>
+ But might be wiser were you not so pert.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. I heard not that before, ma'am.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Did you not?<br>
+ 'Tis very true. Upon that dreadful day,<br>
+ After Brock fell, and in the second fight,<br>
+ When with the Lincoln men and Forty-first<br>
+ Sheaffe led the attack, poor Captain Secord dropped,<br>
+ Shot, leg and shoulder, and bleeding there he lay,<br>
+ With numbers more, when evening fell; for means<br>
+ Were small to deal with wounded men, and all,<br>
+ Soldiers and citizens, were spent and worn<br>
+ With cruel trials. So when she learned he lay<br>
+ Among the wounded, his young wife took up<br>
+ A lantern in her hand, and searched the field&mdash;<br>
+ Whence sobs and groans and cries rose up to heaven<br>
+ And paled the tearful stars&mdash;until she found<br>
+ The man she loved, not sure that life remained.<br>
+ Then binding him as best she might, she bore,<br>
+ With some kind aid, the fainting body home,&mdash;<br>
+ If home it could be called where rabid hate<br>
+ Had spent its lawless rage in deeds of spite;<br>
+ Where walls and roof were torn with many balls,<br>
+ And shelter scarce was found.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; That
+very night,<br>
+ <a name="page029"><!-- Begin Page 29 --></a> Distrustful lest the
+foe, repulsed and wild,<br>
+ Should launch again his heavier forces o'er<br>
+ The flood, she moved her terror-stricken girls&mdash;<br>
+ Four tender creatures&mdash;and her infant boy,<br>
+ Her wounded husband and her two young slaves,<br>
+ 'Neath cover of thick darkness to the farm,<br>
+ A mile beyond: a feat even for a man.<br>
+ And then she set her woman's wit and love<br>
+ To the long task of nursing back to health<br>
+ Her husband, much exhaust through loss of blood,<br>
+ and all the angry heat of gunshot wounds.<br>
+ But James will never be himself again<br>
+ Despite her care.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. 'Twas well and bravely done.<br>
+ Yet oft I think the women of these days<br>
+ Degenerate to those I knew in youth.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. You're hasty, Sergeant, already hath this war<br>
+ Shown many a young and delicate woman<br>
+ A very hero for&mdash;her hero's sake;<br>
+ Nay, more, for others'. She, our neighbour there<br>
+ At Queenston, who when our troops stood still,<br>
+ Weary and breathless, took her young babe,<br>
+ Her husband under arms among the rest,<br>
+ And cooked and carried for them on the field:<br>
+ Was she not one in whom the heroic blood<br>
+ Ran thick and strong as e'er in times gone by?<br>
+ O Canada, thy soil is broadcast strown<br>
+ With noble deeds: a plague on him, I say,<br>
+ Who follows with worse seed!</p>
+<p>(<i>She rises and prepares for making pies</i>. Babette
+<i>clears off the table, and</i> Sergeant George <i>smokes his
+pipe, sitting close to the open chimney, now filled with fresh
+branches of spruce and cedar</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. Well, mistress, p'rhaps you're right; old folks
+aye think<br>
+ Old times the best; but now your words recall<br>
+ The name of one, the bravest of her sex,<br>
+ <a name="page030"><!-- Begin Page 30 --></a> So far as e'er I saw,
+save, p'rhaps, the Baroness.<br>
+ Tender of frame, most gentle, softly raised,<br>
+ And young, the Lady Harriet Acland shared,<br>
+ With other dames whose husbands held commands,<br>
+ The rough campaign of 'Seventy-six.<br>
+ But her lot fell so heavy, and withal<br>
+ She showed such spirit, cheerfulness, and love,<br>
+ Her name became a watchword in the ranks.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. And what about her, Sergeant?</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. Well, mistress, as you ask I'll tell the
+tale:<br>
+ She was the wife of Major John Dyke-Acland,<br>
+ An officer of Grenadiers, then joined<br>
+ To Highland Frazer's arm of Burgoyne's troops.<br>
+ At Chambl&eacute;e he was wounded. Leaving the Fort,<br>
+ His wife crossed lake and land, by means so rough<br>
+ As tried the strength of men, to nurse him.<br>
+ Recovered; next he fought Ticonderoga,<br>
+ And there was badly wounded. Lake Champlain<br>
+ She traversed to his aid in just a batteau.<br>
+ No sooner was he better, than again<br>
+ He joined his men, always the first to move,<br>
+ And so alert their situation was,<br>
+ That all slept in their clothes. In such a time<br>
+ The Major's tent took fire, and he, that night,<br>
+ But for a sergeant's care, who dragged him out,<br>
+ Had lost his life. Twice saved he was;<br>
+ For thinking that his wife still lay within,<br>
+ Burning to death, he broke away,<br>
+ And plunged into the fiery mass. But she,<br>
+ Scarce half awake, had crept from out the tent,<br>
+ And gained her feet in time to see him rush<br>
+ In search of her&mdash;a shuddering sight to one<br>
+ Loving and loved so well. But luckily,<br>
+ Both then were saved. She also shared the march<br>
+ That followed up the foe, action impending<br>
+ At every step; and when the fight began,<br>
+ Though sheltered somewhat, heard all the din,<br>
+ <a name="page031"><!-- Begin Page 31 --></a> The roar of guns, and
+bursting shells, and saw<br>
+ The hellish fire belch forth, knowing the while<br>
+ Her husband foremost in the dreadful fray.<br>
+ Nay, more; her hut was all the shelter given<br>
+ To dress the wounded first; so her kind eyes<br>
+ Were forced to witness sights of ghastly sort,<br>
+ Such as turn surgeons faint; nor she alone,<br>
+ Three other ladies shared her anxious care:<br>
+ But she was spared the grief they knew too soon,<br>
+ Her husband being safe.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But
+when Burgoyne<br>
+ At Saratoga lost the bloody day,<br>
+ The Major came not back&mdash;a prisoner he,<br>
+ And desperate wounded. After anxiety<br>
+ So stringent and prolonged, it seemed too much<br>
+ To hope the lady could support such sting<br>
+ And depth of woe, yet drooped she not; but rose<br>
+ And prayed of Burgoyne, should his plans allow,<br>
+ To let her pass into the hostile camp,<br>
+ There to beseech for leave to tend her husband.<br>
+ Full pitifully Burgoyne granted her<br>
+ The boon she asked, though loath to let her go;<br>
+ For she had passed hours in the drenching rain,<br>
+ Sleepless and hungry; nor had he e'en a cup<br>
+ Of grateful wine to offer. He knew<br>
+ Her danger, too, as she did,&mdash;that she might fall<br>
+ In cruel hands; or, in the dead of night<br>
+ Approaching to the lines, be fired on.<br>
+ Yet yielding to her prayer, he let her go,<br>
+ Giving her all he could, letters to Gates,<br>
+ And for her use an open boat.<br>
+ Thus she set forth, with Chaplain Brudenell<br>
+ For escort, her maid, and the poor Major's man&mdash;<br>
+ Thus was she rowed adown the darkling stream.<br>
+ Night fell before they reached the enemy's posts,<br>
+ And all in vain they raised the flag of truce,<br>
+ The sentry would not even let them land,<br>
+ <a name="page032"><!-- Begin Page 32 --></a> But kept them there,
+all in the dark and cold,<br>
+ Threatening to fire upon them if they stirred<br>
+ Before the break of day. Poor lady! Sad<br>
+ Were her forebodings through those darksome hours,<br>
+ And wearily her soft maternal frame<br>
+ Bore such great strain. But as the dark<br>
+ Grows thickest ere the light appears, so she<br>
+ Found better treatment when the morning broke.<br>
+ With manly courtesy, proud Gates allowed<br>
+ Her wifely claim, and gave her all she asked.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Could he do less! Yes, Sergeant, I'll allow<br>
+ Old times show tender women bold and brave<br>
+ For those they love, and 'twill be ever so.<br>
+ And yet I hold that woman braver still<br>
+ Who sacrifices all she loves to serve<br>
+ The public weal.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. And was there ever one?</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Oh, yes&mdash;</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. SECORD.</center>
+<br>
+ Why, Laura! Now you're just too late<br>
+ To have your breakfast with us. But sit down.<br>
+ (<i>She calls</i>.) Babette! Babette!<br>
+
+<center><i>Enter</i> BABETTE.</center>
+<br>
+ Haste, girl, and make fresh tea,<br>
+ Boil a new egg, and fry a bit of ham,<br>
+ And bring a batch-cake from the oven; they're done<br>
+ By this.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> BABETTE.</p>
+<br>
+ (<i>To Mrs. Secord</i>.) Take off your things, my dear;<br>
+ You've come to stay a day or two with Charles,<br>
+ Of course. He'll be awake just now. He's weak,<br>
+ But better. How got you leave to come?<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[SERGEANT GEORGE <i>is leaving the
+kitchen</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ Stay, Sergeant, you should know James Secord's wife,<br>
+ Poor Charles's sister.<br>
+ <a name="page033"><!-- Begin Page 33 --></a> <br>
+ (<i>To Mrs. Secord</i>.) Laura, this is a friend<br>
+ You've heard us speak of, Sergeant George Mosier,<br>
+ My father's crony, and poor Stephen's, too.<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord (curtesying)</i>. I'm glad to meet you, sir.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant (bowing low)</i>. Your servant, madam,<br>
+ I hope your gallant husband is recovered.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I thank you, sir, his wound, but not his
+strength,<br>
+ And still his arm is crippled.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. A badge of honour, madam, like to mine,</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He points to his empty sleeve</i>.</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> BABETTE <i>with tray</i>.</center>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> SERGEANT GEORGE.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. That's right, girl, set it here. (<i>To Mrs.
+Secord</i>.) Come eat a bit.<br>
+ That ham is very nice, 'tis Gloucester fed,<br>
+ And cured-malt-coombs, you know, so very sweet.<br>
+ (<i>To Babette</i>.) Mind thou the oven, lass, I've pies to
+bake,<br>
+ And then a brisket.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> BABETTE.</p>
+<br>
+ (<i>To Mrs. Secord</i>.) I thought you fast<br>
+ Within the lines: how got you leave to come?<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I got no leave; three several sentries
+I,<br>
+ With words of guile, have passed, and still I fear<br>
+ My ultimate success. 'Tis not to see<br>
+ Poor Charles I came, but to go further on<br>
+ To Beaver Dam, and warn Fitzgibbon there<br>
+ Of a foul plot to take him by surprise<br>
+ This very night. We found it out last eve,<br>
+ But in his state poor James was helpless,<br>
+ So I go instead.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. You go to Beaver Dam! Nineteen long miles<br>
+ On hot and dusty roads, and all alone!<br>
+ You can't, some other must.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I must, no other can. The time is short,<br>
+ And through the virgin woods my way doth lie,<br>
+ For should those sentries meet, or all report<br>
+ <a name="page034"><!-- Begin Page 34 --></a> I passed their
+bounds, suspicion would be waked,<br>
+ And then what hue and cry!</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. The woods! and are you crazed? You cannot go!<br>
+ The woods are full of creatures wild and fierce,<br>
+ And wolves prowl round about. No path is blazed,<br>
+ No underbrush is cleared, no clue exists<br>
+ Of any kind to guide your feet. A man<br>
+ Could scarce get through, how then shall you?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I have a Guide in Heaven. This task is
+come<br>
+ To me without my seeking. If no word<br>
+ Reaches Fitzgibbon ere that murderous horde<br>
+ Be on him, how shall he save himself?<br>
+ And if defeat he meets, then farewell all<br>
+ Our homes and hopes, our liberties and lives.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Oh, dear! oh, dear! and must you risk your
+life,<br>
+ Your precious life? Think of it, Laura, yet:<br>
+ Soldiers expect to fight; and keep strict watch<br>
+ Against surprise. Think of your little girls,<br>
+ Should they be left without a mother's care;<br>
+ Your duty is to them, and surely not<br>
+ In tasks like this. You go to risk your life.<br>
+ As if you had a right, and thereby leave<br>
+ Those who to you owe theirs, unpitied,<br>
+ Desolate. You've suffered now enough<br>
+ With all you've lost, and James a cripple, too,<br>
+ What will the children do should they lose you<br>
+ Just when their youthful charms require your care?<br>
+ They'll blame you, Laura, when they're old enough<br>
+ To judge what's right.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I do not fear it.<br>
+ Children can see the right at one quick glance,<br>
+ For, unobscured by self or prejudice,<br>
+ They mark the aim, and not the sacrifice<br>
+ Entailed.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Did James consent to have you go?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Not till he found there was no other
+way;<br>
+ He fretted much to think he could not go.</p>
+<a name="page035"><!-- Begin Page 35 --></a>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. I'm sure he did. A man may undergo<br>
+ A forced fatigue, and take no lasting hurt,<br>
+ But not a woman. And you so frail&mdash;<br>
+ It is your life you risk. I sent my lads,<br>
+ Expecting them to run the chance of war,<br>
+ And these you go to warn do but the same.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. You see it wrong; chances of war to
+those<br>
+ Would murder be to these, and on my soul,<br>
+ Because I knew their risk, and warned them not.<br>
+ You'll think I'm right when tramp of armed men,<br>
+ And rumble of the guns disturb you in your sleep.<br>
+ Then, in the calmer judgment night-time brings,<br>
+ You'd be the first to blame the selfish care<br>
+ That left a little band of thirty men<br>
+ A prey to near six hundred.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Just the old story! Six hundred&mdash;it's
+disgraceful!<br>
+ Why, Were they tailors&mdash;nine to make a man&mdash;<br>
+ 'Tis more than two to one. Oh, you must go.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I knew you'd say so when you came to
+think:<br>
+ It was your love to me that masked your judgment.<br>
+ I'll go and see poor Charles, but shall not say<br>
+ My real errand, 'twould excite him so.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> MRS. SECORD.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Poor Laura! Would to God I knew some way<br>
+ To lighten her of such a task as this.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Enter</i> SERGEANT GEORGE.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant</i>. Is it too early for the invalid?<br>
+ The lads are here, and full of ardour.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Oh, no, his sister's with him.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> SERGEANT.<br>
+ [<i>A bugle is heard sounding the assembly</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. SECORD <i>in alarm</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. What's that! What's that!</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. I should have warned you, dear,<br>
+ But don't be scared, its Sergeant George's boys.<br>
+ He's gathered quite a company of lads<br>
+ <a name="page036"><!-- Begin Page 36 --></a> From round about,
+with every match-lock, gun,<br>
+ Or fowling-piece the lads could find, and drills<br>
+ Them regularly every second morn.<br>
+ He calls 'em "Young St. David's Yeoman Guard,"<br>
+ Their horses, "shankses naigie." Look you here!</p>
+<p>(<i>Both ladies look through the open window from which is
+visible the driving shed: here are assembled some twenty lads of
+all ages and heights, between six and sixteen. They carry all sorts
+of old firelocks and are "falling in." They are properly sized, and
+form a "squad with intervals." In the rear stands a mash-tub with a
+sheepskin stretched over it for a drum, and near it is the
+drummer-boy, a child of six; a bugle, a cornet and a bassoon are
+laid in a corner, and two or three boys stand near</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant George</i>. Now, Archy, give the cadence in slow
+time. (<i>To the squad</i>.) Slow&mdash;march. (<i>They march some
+thirty paces</i>.) Squad&mdash;halt. (<i>They halt, many of them
+out of line</i>.) Keep your dressing. Steps like those would leave
+some of you half behind on a long march. Right about
+face&mdash;two&mdash;three. That's better. Slow&mdash;march.
+(<i>They march</i>.) Squad&mdash;halt. (<i>They all bring up into
+line</i>.) That's better. No hangers back with foe in front. Left
+about face&mdash;two&mdash;three. Keep up your heads. By the
+right&mdash;dress. Stand easy. Fall in, the band. We'll try the
+music.</p>
+<p>(<i>The band falls in, three little fellows have fifes, two
+elder ones flutes, one a flageolet; the owners of the cornet, bugle
+and bassoon take up their instruments, and a short, stout fellow
+has a trombone</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant George (to the band)</i>. Now show your loyalty,
+"The King! God bless him."</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>They play, the squad saluting</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant George</i> (<i>to band</i>.) That's very well, but
+mind your time. (<i>To the squad</i>.) Now you shall march to
+music. (<i>To the band</i>.) Boys, play&mdash;"The Duke of York's
+March." (<i>To the squad</i>.) Squad&mdash;attention. Quick march.
+(<i>They march</i>.) Squad&mdash;halt.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>At a signal, the band ceases playing</i>.</p>
+Yes, that's the way to meet your country's foes.<br>
+ <a name="page037"><!-- Begin Page 37 --></a> If you were Yankee
+lads you'd have to march to this<br>
+ (<i>he takes a flageolet)</i>. Quick&mdash;march.<br>
+
+<p>(<i>Plays Yankee Doodle with equal cleverness and spite,
+travestying both phrase and expression in a most ludicrous manner
+until the boys find it impossible to march for laughter; the
+Sergeant is evidently delighted with the result</i>.)</p>
+Ho! Ho! That's how you march to "Yankee Doodle."<br>
+ 'Tis a fine tune! A grand, inspiring tune,<br>
+ Like "Polly put the Kettle on," or<br>
+ "Dumble-dum-deary." Can soldiers march to that?<br>
+ Can they have spirit, honour, or do great deeds<br>
+ With such a tune as that to fill their ears?<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. The Sergeant's bitter on the foe, I
+think.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. He is, but can you wonder? Hounded out<br>
+ When living peaceably upon his farm.<br>
+ Shot at, and threatened till he takes a side,<br>
+ And then obliged to fly to save his life,<br>
+ Losing all else, his land, his happy home,<br>
+ His loving wife, who sank beneath the change,<br>
+ Because he chose the rather to endure<br>
+ A short injustice, than belie his blood<br>
+ By joining England's foes. He went with Moody.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Poor fellow! Those were heavy times, like
+these.</p>
+<p><i>Sergeant George</i>. Now boys, the grand new tune, "Britannia
+Rules the Waves," play <i>con spirito</i>, that means heart! mind!
+soul! as if you meant it.</p>
+<p>(<i>He beats time, and adds a note of the drum at proper points,
+singing the chorus with much vigour and emphasis. Mrs. Secord
+betrays much emotion, and when the tune is begun for the third
+verse, she hastily closes the window</i>.)</p>
+<p><br>
+ Shut, shut it out, I cannot bear it, Ellen,<br>
+ It shakes my heart's foundations! Let me go.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Nay, but you're soon upset. If you must go,<br>
+ Your bonnet's on my bed. I'll get a bite<br>
+ Of something for you on the road.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She busies herself in filling a little basket
+with refreshment, and offers</i> MRS. SECORD <i>cake and
+wine</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ Here, eat a bit, and drink a sup of wine,<br>
+ It's only currant; the General's got a keg<br>
+ <a name="page038"><!-- Begin Page 38 --></a> I sent, when stores
+were asked; James Coffin's good;<br>
+ He always sends poor Ned, or Jack, or Dick,&mdash;<br>
+ When commissariat's low; a mother's heart,<br>
+ A widowed mother, too, he knows, sore longs<br>
+ To see her lads, e'en if she willing sends<br>
+ Them all to serve the King. I don't forget him<br>
+ Morning and night, and many a time between.<br>
+ No wine? Too soon? Well, take this drop along.<br>
+ There's many a mile where no fresh water is,<br>
+ And you'll be faint&mdash;<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>She bursts into tears</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ Good lan', I cannot bear to see you go.<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Nay, sister, nay, be calm!<br>
+ Send me away light-hearted,</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Kisses her</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ I trust in God,<br>
+ As you for your dear lads. Shew me the way<br>
+ To gain the woods unseen by friend or foe,<br>
+ The while these embryo soldiers are engaged.<br>
+
+<p><i>Widow</i>. I'll go with you a mile or two.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. No, no.<br>
+ It might arouse suspicion.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She opens the door, and the</i> WIDOW SECORD
+<i>joins her</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. Times indeed<br>
+ When every little act has some to watch!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Points to a tree</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ You see yon oak just by the little birch&mdash;<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I do.</p>
+<p><i>Widow</i>. There is a little path leads down<br>
+ To a small creek, cross that, and keep the sun<br>
+ Behind you half a mile, and then you strike<br>
+ The bush, uncleared and wild. Good God, to think&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Think not, but pray, and if a chance
+occurs<br>
+ Send aid to poor Fitzgibbon. Little help<br>
+ Just in the nick of time oft turns the scale<br>
+ Of fortune. God bless you, dear! Good bye.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>They embrace with tears. Exit</i> MRS.
+SECORD.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page039"><!-- Begin Page 39 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 2.&mdash;<i>A beautiful glade</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. SECORD.&mdash;<i>After scanning the spot
+searchingly, she seats herself on a fallen trunk</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. This spot is surely safe; here I will
+rest,<br>
+ For unaccustomed service tires my limbs,<br>
+ And I have travelled many a weary rood<br>
+ More than a crow-line measures; ups and downs<br>
+ Absorb so many steps that nothing add<br>
+ To distance. Faint am I, too, and thirsty.<br>
+ Hist! hist! ye playful breezes that do make<br>
+ Melodious symphonies and rippling runs<br>
+ Among the pines and aspens, hear I not<br>
+ A little tinkling rill, that somewhere hides<br>
+ Its sweet beneficence 'mid ferns and moss?</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She rises and looks about</i>.</p>
+Ay, here it is: a tiny brilliancy<br>
+ That glances at the light, as careful, still,<br>
+ To keep the pure translucency that first<br>
+ It caught from Heaven. Give me, oh give, sweet rill,<br>
+ A few cool drops to slake my parching throat.<br>
+ Fair emblem truly thou of those meek hearts<br>
+ That thread the humblest haunts of suffering earth<br>
+ With Christ-like charities, and keep their souls<br>
+ Pure and untaint, by Heavenly communings.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>She reseats herself, and contemplates the
+scene</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ O this is beautiful! Here I could lie&mdash;<br>
+ Were earth a myth and all her trials nought&mdash;<br>
+ And dream soft nothings all a summer's day.<br>
+ In this fair glade were surely celebrate<br>
+ The nuptials of the year: and for her gift,<br>
+ Fair Flora, lightly loitering on the wing<br>
+ Of Zephyrus, tossed all her corbel out,<br>
+ Filling the air with bloom.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; From
+yonder copse,<br>
+ With kindling eye and hasty step, emerged<br>
+ <a name="page040"><!-- Begin Page 40 --></a> The gladsome Spring,
+with leafy honours crowned,<br>
+ His following a troop of skipping lambs:<br>
+ And o'er yon hill, blushing for joy, approached<br>
+ His happy bride, on billowy odours borne,<br>
+ And every painted wing in tendance bent.<br>
+ Procession beautiful! Yet she how fair!&mdash;<br>
+ The lovely Summer, in her robes of blue,<br>
+ Bedecked with every flower that Flora gave,&mdash;<br>
+ Sweet eglantine and meek anemone,<br>
+ Bright, nodding columbine and wood-star white,<br>
+ Blue violets, like her eyes, and pendant gems<br>
+ Of dielytra, topaz-tipped and gold,<br>
+ Fragrant arbutus, and hepatica,<br>
+ With thousands more. Her wreath, a coronet<br>
+ Of opening rose-buds twined with lady-fern;<br>
+ And over all, her bridal-veil of white,&mdash;<br>
+ Some soft diaph'nous cloudlet, that mistook<br>
+ Her robes of blue for heaven.&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And I
+could dream<br>
+ That, from his lofty throne beholding,<br>
+ Great Sol, on wings of glowing eve, came down<br>
+ In gracious haste, to bless the nuptials.<br>
+ (<i>She pauses</i>.) And shall this land,<br>
+ That breathes of poesy from every sod,<br>
+ Indignant throb beneath the heavy foot<br>
+ Of jeering renegade? at best a son<br>
+ His mother blushes for&mdash;shall he, bold rebel<br>
+ Entwine its glories in defiant wreath<br>
+ Above his boastful brow, and flaunt it in<br>
+ Her face, rejoicing in her woe? No! No!<br>
+ This priceless gem shall ever deck her crown,<br>
+ And grace its setting with a ray more pure<br>
+ For that, nor flood, nor fire, can flaw its heart.<br>
+ Yes, Canada, thy sons, at least, maintain<br>
+ The ancient honour of their British blood,<br>
+ In that their loyalty contracts no stain<br>
+ From proffered gifts or gold.<br>
+ <a name="page041"><!-- Begin Page 41 --></a> But I must on. I may
+not loiter, while<br>
+ So much depends on me.<br>
+
+<p>(<i>She rises to proceed, and at the first step a rattlesnake
+rears up at her, hissing and springing its rattles. She recoils in
+fear, but remembering the cowardly nature of the creatures, throws
+sticks at it, and it glides swiftly away</i>.)</p>
+<p>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Vile
+reptile!<br>
+ Base as vile, and cowardly as base;<br>
+ A straight descendant thou of him, methinks,<br>
+ Man's ancient foe, or else his paraphrase.<br>
+ Is there no Eden that thou enviest not?<br>
+ No purity thou would'st not smirch with gall?<br>
+ No rest thou would'st not break with agony?<br>
+ Aye, Eve, our mother-tongue avenges thee,<br>
+ For there is nothing mean, or base, or vile,<br>
+ That is not comprehended in the name<br>
+ Of SNAKE!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> MRS. SECORD.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 3&mdash;<i>A thick wood through which runs a forest path,
+leading to a high beech ridge</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. SECORD, <i>walking as quickly as the
+underbrush will allow</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. How quiet are the woods!<br>
+ The choir of birds that daily ushers in<br>
+ The rosy dawn with bursts of melody,<br>
+ And swells the joyful train that waits upon<br>
+ The footsteps of the sun, is silent now,<br>
+ Dismissed to greenwood bowers. Save happy cheep<br>
+ Of callow nestling, that closer snugs beneath<br>
+ The soft and sheltering wing of doting love,&mdash;Like<br>
+ croon of sleeping babe on mother's breast&mdash;No<br>
+ sound is heard, but, peaceful, all enjoy<br>
+ Their sweet siesta on the waving bough,<br>
+ Fearless of ruthless wind, or gliding snake.<br>
+ So peaceful lies Fitzgibbon at his post,<br>
+ <a name="page042"><!-- Begin Page 42 --></a> Nor dreams of harm.
+Meanwhile the foe<br>
+ Glides from his hole, and threads the darkling route,<br>
+ In hope to coil and crush him.<br>
+ Ah, little recks he that a woman holds<br>
+ The power to draw his fangs!<br>
+ And yet some harm must come, some blood must flow,<br>
+ In spite of all my poor endeavour.<br>
+ O War, how much I hate thy wizard arts,<br>
+ That, with the clash and din of brass and steel,<br>
+ O'erpowers the voice of pleading reason;<br>
+ And with thy lurid light, in monstrous rays<br>
+ Enfolds the symmetry of human love,<br>
+ Making a brother seem a phantom or a ghoul!<br>
+ Before thy deadly scowl kind peace retires,<br>
+ And seeks the upper skies.<br>
+ O, cruel are the hearts that cry "War!" "War!"<br>
+ As if War were an angel, not a fiend;<br>
+ His gilded chariot, a triumphal car,<br>
+ And not a Juggernauth whose wheels drop gore;<br>
+ His offerings, flowers and fruit, and chaplets gay,<br>
+ And not shrieks, tears, and groans of babes and women.<br>
+ And yet hath War, like Juggernauth, a hold,<br>
+ A fascination, for humanity,<br>
+ That makes his vot'ries martyrs for his sake.<br>
+ Even I, poor weakling, march in keeping-time<br>
+ To that grand music that I heard to-day,<br>
+ Though children played it, and I darkly feel<br>
+ Its burden is resistance physical.<br>
+ 'Tis strange that simple tones should move one so!<br>
+ What is it, what, this sound, this air, this breath<br>
+ The wind can blow away,<br>
+ Nor most intricate fetters can enchain?<br>
+ What component of being doth it touch<br>
+ That it can raise the soul to ecstasy,<br>
+ Or plunge it in the lowest depth of horror?<br>
+ Freeze the stopt blood, or send it flowing on<br>
+ In pleasant waves?<br>
+ <a name="page043"><!-- Begin Page 43 --></a> Can draw soft tears,
+or concentrate them hard<br>
+ To form a base whereon the martyr stands<br>
+ To take his leap to Heaven?<br>
+ What is this sound that, in Niagara's roar<br>
+ Brings us to Sinai;<br>
+ Or in the infant's prayer to Him, "Our Father?"<br>
+ That by a small inflection wakes the world,<br>
+ And sends its squadroned armies on<br>
+ To victory or death;<br>
+ Or bids it, peaceful, rest, and grow, and build?<br>
+ That reassures the frighted babe; or starts<br>
+ The calm philosopher, without a word?<br>
+ That, in the song of little bird speaks glee;<br>
+ Or in a groan strikes mortal agony?<br>
+ That, in the wind, brings us to shipwreck, death.<br>
+ And dark despair;<br>
+ Or paints us blessed islands far from care or pain?<br>
+ Then what is sound?<br>
+ The chord it vibrates with its magic touch<br>
+ Is not a sense to man peculiar,<br>
+ An independent string formed by that breath<br>
+ That, breathed into the image corporate,<br>
+ Made man a living soul.<br>
+ No, for all animate nature owns<br>
+ Its sovereign power. Brutes, birds, fish, reptiles, all<br>
+ That breathe, are awed or won by means of sound.<br>
+ Therefore, it must be of the corporate, corporeal<br>
+ And, if so, <i>why then the body lives again</i>,<br>
+ Despite what sceptics say; for sound it is<br>
+ Will summon us before that final bar<br>
+ To give account of deeds done in the flesh.<br>
+ The spirit cannot thus be summoned,<br>
+ Since entity it hath not sound can strike.<br>
+ Let sceptics rave! I see no difficulty<br>
+ That He, who from primordial atoms formed<br>
+ A human frame, can from the dust awake it<br>
+ Once again, marshal the scattered molecules<br>
+ <a name="page044"><!-- Begin Page 44 --></a> And make immortal, as
+was Adam.<br>
+ This body lives! Or else no deep delight<br>
+ Of quiring angels harping golden strings;<br>
+ No voice of Him who calls His children home;<br>
+ No glorious joining in the immortal song<br>
+ Could touch our being<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But
+how refined our state!<br>
+ How changed! Never to tire or grow distraught,<br>
+ Or wish for rest, or sleep, or quietude,<br>
+ But find in absence of these earthly needs<br>
+ A truer Heaven.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O
+might I rest even now!<br>
+ These feet grow painful, and the shadows tell<br>
+ Of night and dark approaching, my goal<br>
+ An anxious distance off.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She gazes round</i>.</p>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I'll
+rest awhile,<br>
+ For yonder height will tax my waning strength,<br>
+ And many a brier all beautiful with bloom<br>
+ Hides many a thorn that will dispute my path<br>
+ Beneath those ancient beeches.<br>
+
+<p>(<i>She seats herself, and having removed her bonnet, partakes
+of the refreshment brought from the mill. As she eats, a grieved
+look comes upon her face, and she wipes away a tear</i>.)</p>
+The sun leans towards the west: O darlings mine,<br>
+ E'en now, perchance, ye sit in order round<br>
+ The evening board, your father at the head,<br>
+ And Polly in my place making his tea,<br>
+ While he pretends to eat, and cheats himself.<br>
+ And thou, O husband, dearest, might I lay<br>
+ My, weary head as oft upon thy breast!&mdash;<br>
+ But no (<i>she rises</i>), I dare not think&mdash;there is
+above<br>
+ A Love will guard me, and, O blessed thought,<br>
+ Thee, too, and they our darlings.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>She proceeds towards the beech ridge, but is
+stayed at the foot by a rapid-running stream</i>.</p>
+Nor bridge, nor stone, nor log, how shall I cross?<br>
+ Yon o'erturned hemlock, whose wide-spreading root<br>
+ <a name="page045"><!-- Begin Page 45 --></a> Stands like a wattled
+pier from which the bridge<br>
+ Springs all abrupt and strait, and hangs withal<br>
+ So high that hardihood itself looks blank&mdash;<br>
+ I scarce may tempt, worn as I am, and spent.<br>
+ And on the other bank, the great green head<br>
+ Presents a wilderness of tangled boughs<br>
+ By which would be a task, indeed, to reach<br>
+ The ground. Yet must I try. Poor hands, poor feet,<br>
+ This is rough work for you, and one small slip<br>
+ Would drop me in the stream, perchance to drown.<br>
+ Not drown! oh, no, my goal was set by Heaven.<br>
+ Come, rally all ye forces of the will,<br>
+ And aid me now! Yon height that looms above<br>
+ Is yet to gain before the sun gets low.<br>
+
+<p>(<i>She climbs the hemlock root and reaches the trunk, across
+which she crawls on her hands and knees, and at last finds herself
+some yards up the beech ridge. After arranging her torn and
+dishevelled clothing she proceeds up the ridge, at the top of which
+she encounters a British sentry, who challenges</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. Who goes there?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. A friend.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. What friend?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. To Canada and Britain.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. Your name and errand.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. My name is Secord&mdash;Captain Secord's
+wife,<br>
+ Who fought at Queenston;&mdash;and my errand is<br>
+ To Beaver Dam to see Fitzgibbon,<br>
+ And warn him of a sortie from Fort George<br>
+ To move to-night. Five hundred men, with guns,<br>
+ And baggage-waggons for the spoil, are sent.<br>
+ For, with such force, the enemy is sure<br>
+ Our stores are theirs; and Stoney Creek avenged.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. Madam, how know you this?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I overheard<br>
+ Some Yankee soldiers, passing in and out<br>
+ With all a victor's license of our hearths,<br>
+ Talk of it yesternight, and in such wise<br>
+ No room for doubt remained. My husband wished<br>
+ <a name="page046"><!-- Begin Page 46 --></a> To bear the news
+himself, but is disabled yet<br>
+ By those two wounds he got at Queenston Heights,<br>
+ And so the heavy task remained with me,<br>
+ Much to his grief.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. A heavy task indeed.<br>
+ How got you past their lines?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. By many wiles;<br>
+ Those various arts that times like these entail.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. And then how got you here?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I left my home<br>
+ At daybreak, and have walked through the deep woods<br>
+ The whole way since I left St. David's Mill.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. 'Tis past belief, did not your looks accord.<br>
+ And still you have a weary way to go,<br>
+ And through more woods. Could I but go with you,<br>
+ How gladly would I! Such deed as yours<br>
+ Deserves more thanks than I can give. Pass, friend,<br>
+ All's well.</p>
+<p class="stage">[MRS. SECORD <i>passes the Sentry, who turns and
+walks with her</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. There's naught to fear, I hope, but natural
+foes,<br>
+ Lynxes or rattlesnakes, upon my way.</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. There are some Mohawks ambushed in the wood,<br>
+ But where I cannot quite point out; they choose<br>
+ Their ground themselves, but they are friends, though
+rough,&mdash;<br>
+ Some of Kerr's band, Brant's son-in-law. You'll need<br>
+ To tell the chief your errand should you cross him.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Thanks: for I rather fear our red
+allies.<br>
+ Is there a piquet?</p>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. No, not near me; our men are all too
+few&mdash;<br>
+ A link goes to and fro 'twixt me and quarters,<br>
+ And is but just now left (<i>he turns sharp about)</i>.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; My
+limit this&mdash;<br>
+ Yonder your road (<i>he points to the woods)</i>.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; God be
+wi' you. Good-bye.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Good-bye, my friend.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> MRS. SECORD.</p>
+<a name="page047"><!-- Begin Page 47 --></a>
+<p><i>Sentry</i>. A bold, courageous deed!<br>
+ A very woman, too, tender and timid.<br>
+ That country's safe whose women serve her cause<br>
+ With love like this. And blessed, too, it is,<br>
+ In having such for wives and mothers.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4 class="scene">SCENE 4.&mdash;<i>The forest, with the sun nearly
+below the horizon, its rays illuminate the tops of the trees, while
+all below is dark and gloomy. Bats are on the wing, the night-hawk
+careers above the trees, fire-flies flit about, and the death-bird
+calls</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. SECORD, <i>showing signs of great
+fatigue</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Gloomy, indeed, and weird, and oh, so
+lone!<br>
+ In such a spot and hour the mind takes on<br>
+ Moody imaginings, the body shrinks as'twere,<br>
+ And all the being sinks into a sea<br>
+ Of deariness and doubt and death.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>The call of the death-bird is heard</i>.</p>
+Thou little owl, that with despairing note<br>
+ Dost haunt these shades, art thou a spirit lost,<br>
+ Whose punishment it is to fright poor souls<br>
+ With fear of death?&mdash;if death is to be feared,<br>
+ And not a blank hereafter. The poor brave<br>
+ Who answers thee and hears no call respond,<br>
+ Trembles and pales, and wastes away and dies<br>
+ Within the year, thee making his fell arbiter.<br>
+ Poor Indian! Much I fear the very dread<br>
+ Engendered by the small neglectful bird,<br>
+ Brings on the fate thou look'st for.<br>
+ So fearless, yet so fearful, do we all,<br>
+ Savage and civil, ever prove ourselves;<br>
+ So strong, so weak, hurt by a transient sound,<br>
+ Yet bravely stalking up to meet the death<br>
+ We see.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>A prolonged howl is heard in the
+distance</i>.</p>
+<a name="page048"><!-- Begin Page 48 --></a>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">The wolves! the dreadful wolves!
+they've scented me.<br>
+ O whither shall I fly? no shelter near;<br>
+ No help. Alone! O God, alone!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She looks wildly round for a place to fly to.
+Another howl is heard</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">O Father! not this death, if I must
+die,<br>
+ My task undone, 'tis too, too horrible!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Another howl as of many wolves, but at a
+distance; she bends to listen, her hand upon her heart</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">Be still, wild heart, nor fill my
+list'ning ears<br>
+ With thy deep throbs.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>The howl of the wolves is again heard, but
+faintly</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">Thank God, not me they seek!<br>
+ Some other scent allures the ghoulish horde.<br>
+ On, on, poor trembler! life for life it is,<br>
+ If I may warn Fitzgibbon.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She steps inadvertently into a little pool,
+hastily stoops and drinks gladly</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">Oh blessed water! To my parched
+tongue<br>
+ More precious than were each bright drop a gem<br>
+ From far Golconda's mine; how at thy touch<br>
+ The parting life comes back, and hope returns<br>
+ To cheer my drooping heart!</p>
+<p>(<i>She trips and falls, and instantly the Indian war-whoop
+resounds close at hand, and numbers of braves seem to spring from
+the ground, one of whom approaches her as she rises with his
+tomahawk raised</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Indian</i>. Woman! what woman want?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord (leaping forward and seizing his arm)</i>. O
+chief, no spy am I, but friend to you<br>
+ And all who love King George and wear his badge.<br>
+ All through this day I've walked the lonely woods<br>
+ To do you service. I have news, great news,<br>
+ To tell the officer at Beaver Dam.<br>
+ This very night the Long Knives leave Fort George<br>
+ To take him by surprise, in numbers more<br>
+ <a name="page049"><!-- Begin Page 49 --></a> Than crows on
+ripening corn. O help me on!<br>
+ I'm Laura Secord, Captain Secord's wife,<br>
+ Of Queenstown; and Tecumseh, your great chief,<br>
+ And Tekoriogea are our friends.</p>
+<p><i>Chief</i>. White woman true and brave, I send with you<br>
+ Mishe-mo-qua, he know the way and sign,<br>
+ And bring you safe to mighty chief Fitzgibbon.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. O thanks, kind chief, and never shall your
+braves<br>
+ Want aught that I can give them.</p>
+<p><i>Chief (to another)</i>. Young chief, Mish-e-mo-qua, with
+woman go,<br>
+ And give her into care of big white chief.<br>
+ She carry news. Dam Long-Knife come in dark<br>
+ To eat him up.</p>
+<p><i>Mishe-mo-qua</i>. Ugh! rascal! dam!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exeunt</i> MISHE-MO-QUA <i>and</i> MRS.
+SECORD.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page050"><!-- Begin Page 50 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>ACT III</h3>
+<h4 class="scene">SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>Decau's house, a stone edifice
+of some pretensions. The parlour, with folding doors which now
+stand a little apart. A sentry is visible, on the other side of
+them. The parlour windows are barricaded within, but are set open,
+and a branch of a climbing rose with flowers upon it, swings in.
+The sun is setting, and gilds the arms that are piled in one corner
+of the room. A sword in its scabbard lies across the table, near
+which, in an arm-chair, reclines</i> Lieutenant Fitzgibbon, <i>a
+tall man of fine presence; in his right hand, which rests
+negligently on the back of the chair, he holds a newspaper of four
+pages, "The Times," from which he has been reading. Several elderly
+weather-beaten non-commissioned officers and privates, belonging to
+the 49th, 104th, and 8th regiments, together with a few militiamen
+and two cadets share the society of their superior officer, and all
+are very much at their ease both in appointments and manner, belts
+and stocks are unloosed, and some of the men are smoking</i>.</h4>
+<p><i>Lieut. Fitzgibbon</i>. 'Tis true, it seems, and yet most
+horrible;<br>
+ More than five hundred thousand fighting men<br>
+ Crossed with him o'er the front, and not a tenth<br>
+ Remains. Rather than let him find a place<br>
+ For winter quarters, two hundred thousand<br>
+ Happy families had to forsake their homes<br>
+ In dead of winter, and of the ancient seat<br>
+ Of Russian splendour, Rotopschin made a pyre,<br>
+ A blazing pyre of all its precious things:<br>
+ Moscow is burned.</p>
+<p><i>First Sergeant</i>. So Boney could but toast his freezing
+toes<br>
+ And march back home again: Fine glory that!</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Sad waste of precious lives for one man's
+will.<br>
+ But this mishap will seal his fate. The Czar<br>
+ Will see his interest is a strong alliance,<br>
+ And all the Powers will prove too great a match,<br>
+ Even for Buonaparte.</p>
+<p><i>Second Sergeant</i>. Where is he now, Lieutenant?</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. In Paris, plotting again, I see; or was<br>
+ Nine weeks ago.</p>
+<p><i>First Private</i>. Yon news coom quick.<br>
+ <a name="page051"><!-- Begin Page 51 --></a> Now when I were a
+bairn, that's forty year sin',<br>
+ We heard i' York 'at Merriky refused<br>
+ To pay the taxes, just three munth's arter;<br>
+ An' that wur bonnie toime, fur then t'coa&auml;ch<br>
+ Tuk but foive da&auml;ies ti mak' t' hull waai' doon,<br>
+ Two hunner moile, fra Lunnon.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (still scanning the newspaper)</i>.<br>
+ Well, Jimmy, here's a man, one Bell,<br>
+ Of Greenock, can send a boat by steam<br>
+ Against the wind and tide, and talks with hope<br>
+ Of making speed equal to both.<br>
+ He's tried it on the Clyde, so we may look<br>
+ For news from England in a month, ere long.</p>
+<p><i>First Private</i>. Na, na, sir; noo doant 'e pooak fun at
+me!<br>
+ Iver he doos ma' I go hang. Why neist<br>
+ They scatterbrain 'ull mayhap send a shep<br>
+ Jest whear tha' loike wi'oot a win' at all.<br>
+ Or promise till 't. 'Twere pity Nelson, noo,<br>
+ He'd noan o' sech at Copenh&aacute;agen<br>
+ Mebbe tha' cu'd ha' gott tha' grunded sheps<br>
+ Afloat, an gett moor men to fe'ht them D&aacute;ans.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. The fewer men the greater glory, Jim.<br>
+ Why, man, he got his title by that fight.</p>
+<p><i>Second Sergeant</i>. And well deserved it! A finer man<br>
+ Never trod deck, sailor or officer;<br>
+ His voice gave courage, as his eye flashed fire.<br>
+ We would have died for him, and he for us;<br>
+ And when the fight was done he got our rights,<br>
+ Or tried at it. More than old Parker did.</p>
+<p><i>First Sergeant</i>. Parker was rich, and so forgot the
+poor,<br>
+ But Nelson forgot none.</p>
+<p><i>Second Private</i>. He was cliver, too. Dash't! how I
+laughed,<br>
+ All i' my sleeve o' course. The fight was hot,<br>
+ And getting hotter, for, gad, them Danes can fight!<br>
+ And quite a quarter o' the ships was stuck,<br>
+ The Admiral's among 'em. So Nelson held<br>
+ The squadron at command. Up comes the word,<br>
+ <a name="page052"><!-- Begin Page 52 --></a> "The signal
+Thirty-nine is out, sir." Nelson turns,<br>
+ His stump a-goin' as his arm was used<br>
+ Afore he lost it, meets the officer, as says,<br>
+ "Sir, Thirty-nine is out, shall I repeat it?"<br>
+ "No, sir; acknowledge it." Then on he goes.<br>
+ Presently he calls out, "What's flying now?"<br>
+ "The same, sir." So he takes his glass<br>
+ And puts it to his eye, his blind eye, mind you,<br>
+ An' says he, "No signal can I see. No,<br>
+ Ne'er a one." Winking to Ferguson, says he,<br>
+ "I've but one eye, and may be blind sometimes.<br>
+ What! strike off now and lose the day? Not so:<br>
+ My signal keep for 'Closer battle,' flying.<br>
+ That's how I'll answer. Confound the signal!<br>
+ Nail mine to the mast." He won.</p>
+<p><i>First Militiaman</i>. Just touch and go for hanging,
+that.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Success ne'er saw a scaffold, Jeremy.</p>
+<p><i>A Cadet</i>. Fine-looking fellow Nelson-was, I guess?</p>
+<p><i>First Sergeant</i>. To look at? No, a little, thin, pale
+man<br>
+ With a long queue, one arm, and but one eye,<br>
+ But that a blazer!</p>
+<p><i>Second Militiaman</i>. These little uns has lots o'
+spunk:<br>
+ Boney's a little un, I've heerd.</p>
+<p><i>First Private</i>. Just so: and Wellington ain't big.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (rising and drawing himself to his full
+height)</i>.<br>
+ Come, boys, you're getting personal. See me!<br>
+ If none but little men may win renown,<br>
+ I hope I'm two in one, for your sakes.<br>
+ And you forget the lion-hearted Brock.</p>
+<p><i>All</i> (<i>interrupting him</i>). No! no! no!</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. A man of height exceeding any here,<br>
+ And yet whose alt of metred inches<br>
+ Nobly enlarged to full, fair, Saxon mould,<br>
+ And vested in the blazonments of rule,<br>
+ Shewed not so kingly to the obeisant sight<br>
+ As was his soul. Who than ye better knew<br>
+ His bravery; his lofty heroism;<br>
+ <a name="page053"><!-- Begin Page 53 --></a> His purity, and great
+unselfish heart?<br>
+ Nature in him betrayed no niggard touch<br>
+ Of corporate or ethereal. Yet I yield<br>
+ That men of lesser mould in outward form<br>
+ Have been as great in deeds of rich renown.<br>
+ But then, I take it, greatness lies not in<br>
+ The flesh, but in the spirit. He is great<br>
+ Who from the quick occasion of the time<br>
+ Strikes out a name. And he is also great<br>
+ Who, in a life-long struggle, throws the foe,<br>
+ And binds on hoary locks the laurel crown.<br>
+ Each is a high exemplar.<br>
+ One with concentrate vigour strikes a blow<br>
+ That rings around the world; the other draws<br>
+ The world round him&mdash;his mighty throes<br>
+ And well-contested standpoints win its praise<br>
+ And force its verdict, though bleak indifference&mdash;<br>
+ A laggard umpire&mdash;long neglect his post,<br>
+ And often leaves the wrestler's best unnoted,<br>
+ Coming but just in time to mark his thews<br>
+ And training, and so decides: while the loud shock<br>
+ Of unexpected prowess starts him aghast,<br>
+ And from his careless hand snatches the proud award.<br>
+ But mark me, men, he who is ever great<br>
+ Has greatness made his aim&mdash;<br>
+ The sudden blow or long-protracted strife<br>
+ Yields not its secret to the untrained hand.<br>
+ True, one may cast his statue at a heat,<br>
+ But yet the mould was there;<br>
+ And he who chips the marble, bit by bit,<br>
+ Into a noble form, sees all the while<br>
+ His image in the block.<br>
+ There are who make a phantom of their aim&mdash;<br>
+ See it now here, now there, in this, in that,<br>
+ But never in the line of simple duty;<br>
+ Such will accomplish nothing but their shame:<br>
+ For greatness never leaves that thin, straight mark;<br>
+ <a name="page054"><!-- Begin Page 54 --></a> And, just as the
+pursuit diverges from it,<br>
+ Greatness evanishes, and notoriety<br>
+ Misleads the suitor. I'd have you think of this.</p>
+<p><i>All</i>. Aye, aye, sir.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Order the lights, for darkness falls
+apace,<br>
+ And I must write.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> First Private.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (cutting the newspaper and handing the halves to
+the sergeants)</i>. There, read to the rest, and let me have them
+back when done with.</p>
+<center><i>Enter a</i> Soldier <i>with lights</i>.</center>
+<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>A voice is heard in the next room, beginning
+to sing</i>.</p>
+Who's that?<br>
+
+<p><i>First Private</i>. It's Roaring Bill, sir; shall I stop
+him?</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. No; let him sing.<br>
+ It cheers our loneliness, and does us good.</p>
+<p><i>First Sergeant</i>. Another of his own, I guess; homespun<br>
+ And rough, like country cloth.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Hush! what is that he says?</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>A</i> Cadet <i>gently pushes one of the
+folding doors a little wider open</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Roaring Bill</i>. 'Tis but a doleful ditty, boys,<br>
+ With ne'er a chorus; yet I'll be bound<br>
+ You'll hardly quarrel with it.</p>
+<p><i>A Comrade</i>. Let's have it, Bill; we ain't red Injuns,<br>
+ As likes palaver.</p>
+<p><i>Roaring Bill</i>&mdash;</p>
+<center>SONG.</center>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>October blasts had strown the wreaths that erstwhile hung so
+gay,<br>
+ Above the brows of Queenston Heights where we impatient lay;<br>
+ Niagara fretted at our feet, as chafing at his post,<br>
+ And impotence to turn the fleets that bore the aggressive
+host.<br>
+<br>
+ And gray the dawn and cold the morn of Rensselaer's attack,<br>
+ But warm and true the hearts, though few, that leapt to beat him
+back.<br>
+ "On, Forth-ninth! On, volunteers! Give tongue, ye batteries
+twain!"<br>
+ Bold Dennis spake: the guns boomed forth, and down he rushed
+amain.<br>
+ <a name="page055"><!-- Begin Page 55 --></a><br>
+ They sink! They fly! They drop down stream.&mdash;Ah, too delusive
+sight!<br>
+ A long-abandoned path they find, and gain the wooded height.<br>
+ The batteries now must guard the shore&mdash;above, our struggle
+lies;<br>
+ But down they pour, like surging flood, that skill and strength
+defies.<br>
+<br>
+ Down, down, they press us, inch by inch, beyond the village
+bound,<br>
+ And there, o'erwhelmed, but not o'ercome, we keep our sullen
+ground.<br>
+ Short time we stand. A ringing cheer proclaims our hero nigh;<br>
+ Our darling leader, noble Brock&mdash;hark to his gallant cry!<br>
+<br>
+ "Follow me, boys!" the hero cries. We double to the
+wall&mdash;<br>
+ Waving his gleaming sword on high, he climbs, and follow all;<br>
+ Impetuous up the mountain side he strides in warlike glee,<br>
+ All heedless of the leaden hail that whistles from each tree:<br>
+<br>
+ For on and up proud Victory lures&mdash;we touch her laurel
+crown&mdash;<br>
+ When by malign, deliberate aim the hero's stricken down.<br>
+ He falls! We fire, but ah, too late&mdash;the murderous work is
+done.<br>
+ No more that voice shall cheer us on, with "Vict'ry!" in its
+tone.<br>
+<br>
+ He falls: nor word nor look may cheer young Jarvis' anxious
+quest;<br>
+ Among his stricken men he sinks, his hand but seeks his
+breast.<br>
+ O, Death, could none but him suffice thy cold, insatiate eye?<br>
+ Nor knewed'st thou how many there for him would gladly die!<br>
+<br>
+ Nor lonely speeds the parting soul, nor lonely stands the
+bier&mdash;<br>
+ Two forms the bastion-tomb enfolds, two claim the soldier's
+tear.<br>
+ "Avenge the General!" was the cry. "AVENGE!" McDonell cries,<br>
+ And, leading madly up the Height, McDonell falls and
+dies.<br></td></tr></table>
+<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>Several of the men pass their hands over their
+eyes;</i> MR. JARVIS <i>goes to the open window, as if to observe
+something without</i>.</p>
+<p><i>An 8th man</i>. A mournful ditty to a mournful tune,<br>
+ Yet not unworthy of the heroic theme,<br>
+ Nor of a soldier's heart.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Jarvis (in a low voice)</i>. Indeed, you're right.<br>
+ I thank the singer for his memories,<br>
+ Though sad to me, who caught Brock's latest breath.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. I did not think there had been such a
+stroke<br>
+ Of genius in the lad. (<i>Another voice</i>.) But who's this,
+now?</p>
+<p><i>Second Cadet</i>. It's young Jack Kelley, sir; he has a
+voice,<br>
+ And emulates old Bill.</p>
+<p><i>Jack Kelley</i> (<i>with the airs of an amateur</i>.) Ugh!
+ugh! I'm hoarse.<br>
+ <a name="page056"><!-- Begin Page 56 --></a> Now mind the
+coal-box, byes, and sing it up.<br>
+ "The Jolly Midshipman's" the tune.</p>
+<center>SONG.</center>
+<br>
+
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>
+<center>I.</center>
+<br>
+ It was a bold Canadian boy<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That loved a winsome girl;<br>
+ And he was bold as ancient knight,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; She, fair as day's own pearl.<br>
+ And to the greenwood they must go,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To build a home and name,<br>
+ So he clasped hands with Industry,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For fortune, wealth and fame.<br></td></tr></table>
+<br>
+
+<center>CHORUS<br>
+ (<i>In which all join, the leader beating time upon his knees with
+his fists</i>.)</center>
+<br>
+
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp; For fortune, wealth and fame,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For fortune, wealth and fame;<br>
+ So he clasped hands with Industry,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For fortune, wealth and fame.<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>II.</center>
+<br>
+ And when the jocund Spring came in,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; He crowned the wedded pair.<br>
+ And sent them forth with hearts elate<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Their wildwood home to share.<br>
+ For he had built a snug log-house,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath a maple tree;<br>
+ And his axe had cleared a wide domain,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; While store of goods spun she.<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>CHORUS.</center>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; While store of goods spun she,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; While store of goods spun she,<br>
+ And his axe had cleared a wide domain,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; While store of goods spun she.<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>III.</center>
+<br>
+ The husband whistles at his plough,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The wife sings at her wheel,<br>
+ The children wind the shrilly horn<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That tells the ready meal.<br>
+ And should you roam the wide world o'er,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; No happier home you'll see,<br>
+ Than this abode of loving toil<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath the maple tree.<br>
+ <a name="page057"><!-- Begin Page 57 --></a><br>
+
+<center>CHORUS.</center>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath the maple tree,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath the maple tree,<br>
+ Than this abode of loving toil<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath the maple tree.<br></td></tr></table>
+<p><i>A 49th man</i>. Hurrah, Jack! that's a good tune,<br>
+ Let's have the chorus again.</p>
+<p><i>All</i>&mdash;</p>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath the maple tree,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Beneath the maple tree,<br>
+ Than this abode of lov&mdash;<br></td></tr></table>
+<p class="stage">[<i>The</i> Sentry <i>challenges, and a</i>
+Corporal <i>enters and salutes</i> FITZGIBBON.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Well, Corporal.</p>
+<p><i>Corporal</i>. Sir, here is Mishe-mo-qua and a woman.<br>
+ They say they've news, and wish to speak with you.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Then, Corporal, show them in.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> Corporal.</p>
+<br>
+
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. SECORD <i>and the</i> Indian Chief,
+<i>who salutes</i> LIEUT. FITZGIBBON.</center>
+<p><i>Several Militiamen</i> (<i>in surprise, aside to each
+other</i>.) 'Tis Mrs. Secord, Captain Secord's wife;<br>
+ What can her errand be? So tired, too,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And in
+rags.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i> (<i>courtesying)</i>. You are the Captain,
+sir?</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. At your service.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I bring you news of great importance,
+sir.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. I am indebted, madam, for what I see<br>
+ Has been no common task. Be seated, pray.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>A Cadet places a chair</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ Chief, will you also rest?
+<p class="stage">[<i>He indicates a couch</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mishe-mo-qua</i>. No. Woman, she<br>
+ Come far, to tell white chief great words.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. I thank her much.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I came to say that General Dearborn
+tires.<br>
+ Of his inaction, and the narrow space<br>
+ Around his works, he therefore purposes<br>
+ <a name="page058"><!-- Begin Page 58 --></a> To fall upon your
+outpost here, to-night,<br>
+ With an o'erwhelming force, and take your stores:</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Madam!</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Five hundred men, with some dragoons and
+guns,<br>
+ Start e'en to-night, soon as the moon goes down;<br>
+ Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler in command.<br>
+ A train of waggons, too, is sent for spoil.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. And may I ask on what authority<br>
+ To trust such startling news? I know you not.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. My name is Secord, I'm Captain Secord's
+wife,<br>
+ Who fought at Queenston Heights, and there received<br>
+ The wounds that leave him now a helpless cripple.<br>
+ Some here may know him.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. I remember now.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. We live within the Yankee lines, and
+hence<br>
+ By victor's right our home is free to them.<br>
+ Last night a sergeant and his new-changed guard<br>
+ Came in and asked for supper; a boy and girl<br>
+ I left to wait on them, seeing the table set<br>
+ With all supplies myself, and then retired.<br>
+ But such their confidence; their talk so loud<br>
+ And free, I could not help but hear some words<br>
+ That raised suspicion; then I listened close<br>
+ And heard, 'mid gibe and jest, the enterprise<br>
+ That was to flout us; make the Loyalist<br>
+ A cringing slave to sneering rebels; make<br>
+ The British lion gnash his teeth with rage;&mdash;<br>
+ The Yankee, hand-on-hip, guffawing loud<br>
+ The while. At once, my British blood was up,<br>
+ Nor had I borne their hated presence more,<br>
+ But for the deeper cause. My husband judged<br>
+ As I did, but his helpless frame forbade<br>
+ His active interference, so I came,<br>
+ For well we knew your risk, warning denied.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Alone? You surely did not come alone?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Sir, I have walked the whole way through the
+woods,<br>
+ <a name="page059"><!-- Begin Page 59 --></a> For fear of spies,
+braving all other foes.<br>
+ Nor, since at early morn I left St. David's Mill,<br>
+ Until I met your sentry on the ridge,&mdash;<br>
+ Who begged me tell you so, and said "all's well,"&mdash;<br>
+ Spoke I, or saw, a soul. Since then, the chief,<br>
+ Whose senior sent him with me for a guide,<br>
+ Has been my kind protector to your post.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (to the chief</i>). I thank you, Mishe-mo-qua, and
+your chief.</p>
+<p>(<i>To Mrs. Secord, bowing</i>.) But you, oh; madam, how shall I
+thank you?<br>
+ You have, indeed, performed a woman's part,<br>
+ A gentle deed; yet at expense of more<br>
+ Than woman's fitting means. I am not schooled<br>
+ In courtly phrases, yet may I undertake<br>
+ To thank you heartily, not on our part<br>
+ Alone, but in our good King George's name,<br>
+ For act so kind achieved. Knew he your care<br>
+ For his brave men&mdash;I speak for those around&mdash;<br>
+ Of whom some fought for him at Copenhagen,<br>
+ He would convey his thanks, and the Queen's, too&mdash;<br>
+ Who loves all nobleness&mdash;in better terms<br>
+ Than I, his humble servant. Affliction<br>
+ Leaves him in our hands to do him justice;<br>
+ And justice 'tis, alike to him and you,<br>
+ To thank you in his name, and in the Regent's.</p>
+<p><i>The Soldiers</i>. Hurray! hurray! hurray!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>They toss up their caps</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Sir, you make quite too much of my poor
+service,<br>
+ I have but done my duty; and I beg<br>
+ Let me not interrupt your movements now:<br>
+ I would not be an obstacle across<br>
+ The path I made.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. You add an obligation, madam.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>At a signal the men from the next room file
+in</i>.</p>
+<a name="page060"><!-- Begin Page 60 --></a>
+<p>(<i>To the men</i>.) We've hot work coming, boys. Our good
+friend here<br>
+ Has walked from Queenston, through the woods, this day,<br>
+ To warn me that a sortie from Fort George<br>
+ Is sent to take this post, and starts e'en now.<br>
+ You, Cummings, mount&mdash;you know the way&mdash;and ride<br>
+ With all your might, to tell De Haren this;<br>
+ He lies at Twelve-Mile Creek with larger force<br>
+ Than mine, and will move up to my support:<br>
+ He'll see my handful cannot keep at bay<br>
+ Five hundred men, or fight in open field.<br>
+ But what strength can't accomplish cunning must&mdash;<br>
+ I'll have to circumvent them.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> CUMMINGS.</p>
+<p>(<i>To Mishe-mo-qua</i>.) And you, chief,<br>
+ What will you do? You've stood by me so long,<br>
+ So faithfully, I count upon you now.</p>
+<p><i>Mishe-mo-qua</i>. White chief say true: we good King George's
+men.<br>
+ My warriors yell! hide! shoot! hot bullet fly<br>
+ Like dart of Annee-meekee.<br>
+ We keep dam Long-Knife back. I go just now.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (handing the chief a twist of tobacco, which he
+puts into his girdle with a grunt of satisfaction)</i>. A Mohawk is
+my friend, and you are one.</p>
+<p class="stage">[FITZGIBBON <i>shakes hands with the</i> Chief,
+<i>who retires well pleased</i>.</p>
+<p>(<i>To Mrs. Secord</i>.) Madam, how may I serve you to
+secure<br>
+ Your safety? Refreshment comes; but here<br>
+ Is no protection in our present strait.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I thank you, sir, but will not tax you
+more<br>
+ Than some refreshment. I have friends beyond<br>
+ A mile or two, with whom I'll stay to-night.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. I'll spare an escort; Mr. Jarvis here
+will&mdash;</p>
+<p class="stage">[MRS. SECORD <i>faints</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ Poor soul! poor soul! she is exhaust indeed.
+<p>(<i>The men run out and bring water</i>, Fitzgibbon <i>gets
+brandy from a buffet, and</i> Mr. Jarvis <i>unloosens her bonnet
+and collar. They bathe her hands with <a name="page061">
+<!-- Begin Page 61 --></a> the spirit and sprinkle her face with
+the water, and at last</i> MRS. SECORD <i>sighs heavily</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. She's coming to. Back, men; give her more
+air.</p>
+<p>(MR. JARVIS <i>and another</i> Cadet <i>support</i> MRS. SECORD,
+<i>while</i> LIEUT. FITZGIBBON <i>offers her coffee, into which he
+has poured a little brandy, feeding her with the spoon</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>An 8th man (aside</i>). She'll never walk to reach her
+friends to-night.</p>
+<p><i>A 49th man (to a comrade</i>). Jack, thou an' me can do't.
+'Tyent the fust time<br>
+ We've swung a faintin' comrade 'twixt us two;<br>
+ An' her's just like a babby. Fatch a pole<br>
+ An' blanket, an' we'll carry her.</p>
+<p><i>A Sergeant</i>. You'll then be in the rear, for we're to
+move.</p>
+<p><i>Second 49th man</i>. We'll catch ye oop a foight'n'; its
+summat wuth<br>
+ To await o' sech as she.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (to Mrs. Secord</i>). Are you better now?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord (trying to stand</i>). I think I am. Oh, sir, I'm
+losing you<br>
+ The time I tried to save! Pray leave me&mdash;<br>
+ I shall be better soon, and I can find my way.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Nay, be not anxious; we are quite
+prepared.<br>
+ Sheathed though our claws may be, they're always sharp.<br>
+ Pray drink again, nor fear the potent touch<br>
+ That snatches back the life when the spent heart,<br>
+ Oppressed by cruel tasks, as yours, can scarcely beat.</p>
+<p class="stage">[MRS. SECORD <i>drinks the coffee, and again
+rises, but can scarcely stand</i>.</p>
+<p><i>49th man (saluting</i>). Sir, me an' Bill has here a hammock
+ready,<br>
+ An' volunteers to see the lady safe.<br>
+ Among her friends.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. But I can walk.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Madam, you cannot. Let these carry you;<br>
+ <a name="page062"><!-- Begin Page 62 --></a> An honour I do grudge
+them. I shall move<br>
+ With better heart knowing you cared for.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. I'll go at once&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Men, bring your hammock hither.</p>
+<p>(<i>The hammock is brought, and</i> MRS. SECORD <i>is assisted
+into it by</i> LIEUT. FITZGIBBON, <i>who wraps a blanket round her.
+The men fall into line, and salute as she passes. At the door she
+offers her hand to</i> FITZGIBBON.)</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. Farewell, sir. My best thanks for all your
+goodness,<br>
+ Your hospitality, and this, your escort;<br>
+ You do me too much honour.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Should we not<br>
+ Show our respect for one has done so much<br>
+ For us? We are your debtors, madam.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He points to the sky, set thick with brilliant
+stars, the moon having already set</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ See how the eyes of heaven look down on you,<br>
+ And smile, in gentle approbation<br>
+ Of a most gentle deed. I pray they light<br>
+ You safely to your friends.<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. Secord</i>. And you to victory, sir. Farewell.</p>
+<p class="stage">[FITZGIBBON <i>bows</i>.<br>
+<br>
+ [<i>Exeunt</i> MRS. SECORD <i>and her escort</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (to the men who have crowded round the door, and
+are awaiting orders</i>). Men, never forget this woman's noble
+deed.<br>
+ Armed, and in company, inspirited<br>
+ By crash of martial music, soldiers march<br>
+ To duty; but she, alone, defenceless,<br>
+ With no support but kind humanity<br>
+ And burning patriotism, ran all our risks<br>
+ Of hurt, and bloody death, to serve us men,<br>
+ Strangers to her save by quick war-time ties.<br>
+ Therefore, in grateful memory and kind return,<br>
+ Ever treat women well.</p>
+<p><i>Men</i>. Aye, aye, sir.</p>
+<a name="page063"><!-- Begin Page 63 --></a>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Now, then, for action. I need not say,<br>
+ Men, do your duty. The hearts that sprung<br>
+ To follow Nelson; Brock; have never failed.<br>
+ I'm proud, my men, to be your leader now.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 2.&mdash;<i>Morning twilight. A little wayside tavern at
+a cross-road</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> FITZGIBBON, <i>reconnoitring</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. They must be pretty near by this time,<br>
+ If they are come at all.</p>
+<p>(<i>Two American soldiers of the advanced guard rush out of the
+tavern and present their rifles</i>. FITZGIBBON <i>springs on them,
+and, seizing each man's weapon, crosses them in front of
+himself</i>.)</p>
+Not yet, my friends.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>They struggle, and one of the Americans
+draws</i> FITZGIBBON'S <i>sword and is about to plunge it in his
+shoulder</i>.</p>
+<center><i>Enter a woman, the</i> tavern-keeper.</center>
+<p><i>Woman</i>. Ye Yankee rogue! ye coward!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She snatches the sword, and runs into the
+tavern with it</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Take that! and that!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He trips up one man, and knocks the other
+down, putting his foot on the man's breast</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ Now, give me up your arms.<br>
+
+<p class="stage">[<i>They give up their arms</i>.</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> FITZGIBBON'S <i>command</i>.</center>
+<br>
+ Here, Sergeant, march them in and set a guard.
+<p class="stage">[<i>They are marched into the tavern. Shots are
+heard</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Fitsgibbon</i>. They're come! Quick&mdash;march, my lads.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page064"><!-- Begin Page 64 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h4>SCENE 3.&mdash;<i>The beech ridge. Frequent firing. The Indian
+war-whoop. Bugles sounding the advance</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> LIEUT. FITZGIBBON <i>and</i> COL. THOMAS
+CLARKE.</center>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. The Mohawks have done well; and I am glad<br>
+ To have your help, sir, too. What is your strength?</p>
+<p><i>Clarke</i>. But twenty, sir, all told.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. And I but thirty. Too few to fight such
+force<br>
+ In open field. But Boerstler's lost his head:<br>
+ Deluded by our calls, your fierce attack,<br>
+ And Indian fighting&mdash;which to them has ghosts<br>
+ Of their own raising&mdash;scalps, treachery, what not.<br>
+ There is our chance: I mean to summon him<br>
+ To a surrender.</p>
+<p><i>Clarke (in great surprise)</i>. Sir!</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. 'Tis a bold stroke, I grant, and if it
+fail<br>
+ Why then I'll fight it out. Keep up the scare<br>
+ Some moments longer, and we'll see.</p>
+<p><i>Clarke</i>. Good luck betide so brave a word;<br>
+ I'll do my best.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> COL. CLARKE.</p>
+<center><i>Enter the American force in some confusion</i>.</center>
+<p>(FITZGIBBON <i>sends forward a flag of truce; the bugles sound
+"Cease firing;" an officer advances from the American lines and</i>
+FITZGIBBON <i>goes forward to meet him</i>.)</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Sir, with my compliments to your
+commander,<br>
+ I am the leader of this large detachment,<br>
+ Backed closely up by reinforcements<br>
+ Larger still. Indians, our good allies,<br>
+ Swarm in the woods around; and in your rear<br>
+ A strong militia force awaits my orders:<br>
+ Therefore, sir, to save a useless loss<br>
+ Of brave men's lives, I offer you fair terms<br>
+ Of full surrender.</p>
+<p><i>American officer</i>. I will report, sir,<br>
+ To Colonel Boerstler.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i>.</p>
+<a name="page065"><!-- Begin Page 65 --></a>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i> (<i>aside)</i>. And I will pray.<br>
+ For after all in God's hand lies the day:<br>
+ I've done the best I know.</p>
+<center><i>Enter the American officer and an orderly</i>.</center>
+<p><i>American officer</i>. Sir, with respect, our colonel bids me
+say<br>
+ That, seeing fate and fortune both unite<br>
+ To mar success, he'll rather save his men<br>
+ By fair surrender, than waste their lives<br>
+ In useless struggle. He commissions me<br>
+ To act in drawing up the terms.<br>
+ I am McDowell, captain of a troop.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon (bowing)</i>. Your humble servant, sir. We'll try
+to please<br>
+ Your colonel; rejoicing we have met a foe<br>
+ Who knows the bravery of discretion.</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> COL. CLARKE, CAPT. KERR, <i>of the Indian
+contingent, and</i> MISHE-MO-QUA.</center>
+<p>(<i>The British officers consult, and then invite</i> CAPT.
+MCDOWELL<i>to join them. A drum is brought, Major De Haren produces
+writing materials; and terms of capitulation are drawn up, which
+are read to</i> CAPT. MCDOWELL.)</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Our terms we make as light as possible:<br>
+ I hope you'll find them so, sir.</p>
+<p><i>Capt. McDowell</i> (<i>after reading</i>). Terms generous and
+honourable sir;<br>
+ I thank you. A noble foe is always half a friend.<br>
+ I'll carry them to Colonel Boerstler,<br>
+ With your consent.</p>
+<p class="stage">[FITZGIBBON <i>bows</i>.<br>
+ [<i>Exit</i> CAPT. MCDOWELL.</p>
+<br>
+
+<center><i>Enter</i> MAJOR DE HAREN, <i>who hastens to greet</i>
+LIEUT. FITZGIBBON.</center>
+<p><i>Major De Haren</i>. Why, what is this, Fitzgibbon, that I
+hear?<br>
+ That with your little handful you have caught<br>
+ Five hundred enemy? A very elephant!</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. A strait like mine required some
+strategy.</p>
+<p><i>De Haren</i>. My dear, brave fellow, you have surely won<br>
+ The golden epaulettes! How glad I am<br>
+ <a name="page066"><!-- Begin Page 66 --></a> I was not here
+before. Such tact! such skill!<br>
+ You are a soldier born. But who comes hither?</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> COL. BOERSTLER, CAPT. MCDOWELL <i>and other
+American officers</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. These are the officers to sign our terms.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>The officers on both sides salute</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Boerstler</i> (<i>to Fitzgibbon</i>). I thank you, sir, for
+honourable terms,<br>
+ For vain it was to cope with force like yours.<br>
+ But ne'er I thought to put my hand to such<br>
+ A document.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He takes up the pen</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Fortune of war, sir, that we all may
+meet.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Each officer signs the document in his
+order</i>; MISHE-MO-QUA <i>draws his totem&mdash;a bear&mdash;as
+his signature</i>.</p>
+<p><i>De Haren</i> (<i>to Col. Boerstler</i>). Will you proceed on
+the third article?</p>
+<p><i>Boerstler</i> (<i>to Capt. McDowell</i>). Give you the
+order.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> CAPT. MCDOWELL.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i> (<i>to his men, who are drawn up across the
+road&mdash; De Haren's command forming their right and left
+wings</i>). Forward&mdash;ten paces.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Enter by companies the American force, who lay
+down their arms in front of the British officers and defile to the
+rear</i>.</p>
+<p><i>De Haren</i> (<i>to Fitzgibbon</i>). A glorious day for you,
+Fitzgibbon;<br>
+ For this fair Canada, and British arms.</p>
+<p><i>Fitzgibbon</i>. Yes, thanks to a brave woman's glorious
+deed.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exeunt</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page067"><!-- Begin Page 67 --></a> <a name="page068">
+<!-- Begin Page 68 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h2>POEMS</h2>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <a name="page069"><!-- Begin Page 69 --></a>
+<h3><a name="ballad">A BALLAD OF 1812.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<br>
+
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Now hush the martial trumpet's blare,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And tune the softer lyre;<br>
+ Nor shrink lest gentler tones should lack<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The high, heroic fire:<br>
+<br>
+ For many a valiant deed is done,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And great achievement wrought,<br>
+ Whose inspiration knows no source<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Save pure and holy thought.<br>
+<br>
+ Nor think some lofty pedestal,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Proud-lifted towards the skies,<br>
+ The only plane where Worth can wrest<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; From Fame her highest prize:<br>
+<br>
+ For many a nameless nook and lone,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And many a tongueless hour,<br>
+ Sees deeds performed whose glories shame<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The pride of pomp and power.<br>
+<br>
+ Nor dream that to a noble deed<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; It needs a noble name;<br>
+ Or that to mighty act achieved<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Must link a stalwart frame:<br>
+<br>
+ For strung by Duty's steady hand,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And thrilled by Love's warm touch,<br>
+ Slight forms and simple names may serve<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; At need, to avail for much.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page070"><!-- Begin Page 70 --></a> Then lay the blaring
+trumpet by,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And tune the softer lyre<br>
+ To songs of Woman's chivalry,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of Woman's patriot fire.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>I.</center>
+<br>
+ O heard ye not of Queenston Heights,&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of Brock who fighting fell,&mdash;<br>
+ And of the Forty-ninth and York,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Who 'venged their hero well?&mdash;<br>
+<br>
+ And of the gallant stand they made&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; What prowess kept at bay<br>
+ The swelling foe, till Sheaffe appeared,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And won the glorious day!<br>
+<br>
+ Yet heard ye how&mdash;ban of success&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Irresolution ruled,<br>
+ Till all our green peninsula<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And border-land, were schooled<br>
+<br>
+ To bear, nathless all frowningly,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The yoke of alien power,<br>
+ And wait in patience, as they might,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The dawn of happier hour.<br>
+<br>
+ Till Forty-mile, and Stony Creek,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Revived our waning hopes,<br>
+ And round Fort-George a limit held<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The Yankees as with ropes.<br>
+<br>
+ Yet, as do cordons oft enclose<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The unwilling with the fain,<br>
+ Our people, by forced parole held,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Could naught but own the rein.<br>
+<br>
+ Then heard ye how a little post.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Some twenty miles away,<br>
+ A check upon proud Dearborn's hopes,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Was fixed upon for prey?<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page071"><!-- Begin Page 71 --></a> And how lest
+Britain's bull-dog pluck,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Roused by their isolation,<br>
+ Should make these few, brave, lonely men,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Fight as in desperation,<br>
+<br>
+ And prove a match for thrice their odds,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; They made them three times three,<br>
+ And thrice of that, with guns to boot,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To insure a victory?<br>
+<br>
+ Then they would take the Night along<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; &mdash;No mean ally with odds,<br>
+ As Stony Creek can testify:<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; But then she marched with gods!&mdash;<br>
+<br>
+ Yet blame ye not the silent Night<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That she was forced to go,<br>
+ For oft have captives been compelled<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To serve the hated foe:<br>
+<br>
+ And oft with grave and quiet mien,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And Samson-like intent,<br>
+ Have brought about such ends, as by<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Their lords were never meant.<br>
+<br>
+ Then blame ye not the dark-eyed Night,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of grave and silent mien;<br>
+ Her whisper 'twas that foiled the foe,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And fired our patriot queen.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>II.</center>
+<br>
+ "And why, my husband, why so pale?"<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; 'Twas Laura Secord spoke;<br>
+ And when she heard his plaintive tale,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Then all the patriot woke.<br>
+<br>
+ "Thou knowest how Fitzgibbon holds<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The post at Beaver Dams,<br>
+ And Dearborn frets, and fumes, and chafes,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And calls us British shams:<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page072"><!-- Begin Page 72 --></a> "Because we will not,
+willing, give,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To feed an alien foe,<br>
+ The substance, all too poor and sparse,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Our stinted fields may grow.<br>
+<br>
+ "So when the Night puts on her robes<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of sad and sable hue,<br>
+ A host he sends, of shameful strength,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To oust that noble few.<br>
+<br>
+ "And who shall warn Fitzgibbon? Who?<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; My weakness is my bale;<br>
+ At such an hour of pressing need,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; O that my aid should fail!<br>
+<br>
+ "And yet, my country, if my blood,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Drawn from me drop by drop,<br>
+ Could save thee in this awful strait,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; 'Twere thine,'twere thine, to stop<br>
+<br>
+ "This massacre, this horrid crime,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To baulk this wicked plot!<br>
+ My parole given!&mdash;by Heaven I could&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; I Would&mdash;regard it not.<br>
+<br>
+ "But here am I, a cripple weak;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Great Heaven! and must they fall<br>
+ Because I, wretched I alone,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Know what will sure befall!"<br>
+<br>
+ "Calm thee, my husband, calm thee now.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Heaven ne'er points out a deed,<br>
+ But to the creature by whose means<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Its action is decreed:<br>
+<br>
+ "Thou, had'st thou not been sick and lame,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Would'st ne'er have learned this plot,<br>
+ And had'st thou strength thou could'st not pass<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The lines, and not be shot.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page073"><!-- Begin Page 73 --></a> "Wherefore,'tis
+plain, 'tis not to thee<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The careful task is given;<br>
+ 'Tis rather me; and I will go,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Safe in the care of Heaven."<br>
+<br>
+ "Thou go, dear wife! a woman soft,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And not too brave to shake<br>
+ At sight of wolf or catamount,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Or many-rattled snake:<br>
+<br>
+ "Thou go!" "Nay, smile not, I will go;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Fitzgibbon shall not fall<br>
+ Unwarned at least; and Heaven will guard<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Its messenger-in-thrall."<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>III.</center>
+<br>
+ Scarce had Aurora backward drawn<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The curtains of the night,<br>
+ Scarce had her choristers awaked<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The echoes with delight;<br>
+<br>
+ When Laura Secord left her home,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; With holy message fraught,<br>
+ And lone Fitzgibbon's distant post<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; With hasty footsteps sought.<br>
+<br>
+ She chides the harsh-tongued sentinel<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Whose musket stops her way,<br>
+ And hies her from his curious sight<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In such sort as she may.<br>
+<br>
+ A second bars her forward path,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Nor will he be content;<br>
+ And all her woman's wit she needs<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Before his doubts are spent.<br>
+<br>
+ Beyond, a third the challenge gives;&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; She almost gasps for breath&mdash;<br>
+ "Oh, at the Mill my brother lies<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Just at the point of death."<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page074"><!-- Begin Page 74 --></a> But he nor cares for
+death nor life:<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Yet when she kneels and weeps,<br>
+ He yields: for&mdash;in his rugged heart<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A tender memory sleeps.<br>
+<br>
+ With beating heart and trembling limb,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Swift hastes she; yet in ruth<br>
+ That even for her country's sake,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; She needs must veil the truth.<br>
+<br>
+ And when a rise of ground permits<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A last, fond, lingering look,<br>
+ She, tearful, views her home once more&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A lowly, leafy nook.<br>
+<br>
+ For there her sleeping children lie<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Unconscious of her woe;<br>
+ Her choking sobs may not be stayed,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For oh, she loves them so!<br>
+<br>
+ And there she leaves her maiden choice,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Her husband, lover, friend.<br>
+ Oh, were she woman could she less<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To homely sorrows lend!<br>
+<br>
+ On altar of the public weal<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Must private griefs expire,&mdash;<br>
+ Her tender grief exhaled to Heaven<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; On wings of patriot fire.<br>
+<br>
+ The dew still glistened on the grass,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The morning breezes swung<br>
+ The honeysuckle and the rose,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Above, whose sweetness hung.<br>
+<br>
+ The fritil' butterfly, the bee,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Whose early labours cheer,<br>
+ And point the happy industry<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That marks the opening year.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page075"><!-- Begin Page 75 --></a> The cheerful robin's
+sturdy note,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The gay canary's trill,<br>
+ Blent with the low of new-milked kine<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That sauntered by the rill:<br>
+<br>
+ When Laura Secord stood beside<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The doomed St. David's door,<br>
+ Whose portals never closed upon<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The weary or the poor.<br>
+<br>
+ "O sister," cries the widowed dame,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; "What trouble brings you here?<br>
+ Doth Jamie ail? Hath aught arisen<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To mar your fettered cheer?"<br>
+<br>
+ "Nor aileth any at the farm,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Nor is our cheer less free,<br>
+ But I must haste to Beaver Dam,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Fitzgibbon there to see.<br>
+<br>
+ "For many a foe this coming night,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To take him by surprise,<br>
+ Is detailed, and he must be warned<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Before the moon doth rise."<br>
+<br>
+ O pallid grew the gentle dame,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And tremulous her tone,<br>
+ As Laura Secord, at the board,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Made all her errand known.<br>
+<br>
+ And oft her pallor turned to red,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; By indignation fired;<br>
+ And oft her red to pallor turned,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For Laura's sake retired.<br>
+<br>
+ And many a cogent argument<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; She used, of duteous wives;<br>
+ And many more that mothers thus<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Should never risk their lives.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page076"><!-- Begin Page 76 --></a> And of the dangers of
+the way<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; She told a trembling tale;<br>
+ But to divert a settled mind<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Nor words nor woes avail.<br>
+<br>
+ And many a tear she let down fall,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And some dropt Laura too,&mdash;<br>
+ But "'Tis my country!" yet she cried,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; "My country may not rue."<br>
+<br>
+ A tender leave she gently takes<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of him all wounded laid<br>
+ Upon his weary couch of pain,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; But hides her errand sad.<br>
+<br>
+ And then, while yet the day was young,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The sun scarce quarter high,<br>
+ She plunges 'mid the sheltering bush,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In fear of hue and cry,&mdash;<br>
+<br>
+ Of hue and cry of cruel foes<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Who yet might learn her route,<br>
+ And mad with rage of baffled aim,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Should spring in hot pursuit.<br>
+<br>
+ On, on she speeds through bush and brake,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; O'er log and stone and briar;<br>
+ On, on, for many a lengthening mile<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Might stouter footsteps tire.<br>
+<br>
+ The hot sun mounts the upper skies,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Faint grows the fervid air,<br>
+ And wearied nature asks for rest<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Mid scenes so soft and fair.<br>
+<br>
+ The sward all decked with rainbow hues,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The whispering of the trees,<br>
+ Nor perfumed airs of flowery June,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Can win her to her ease.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page077"><!-- Begin Page 77 --></a> Ah, serpent in our
+Paradise!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In choicest cup our gall!<br>
+ 'Twas thou, distraught Anxiety,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Wrapped Beauty's self in pall;<br>
+<br>
+ And for that lonely traveller<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Empoisoned those sweet springs,<br>
+ To souls that languish, founts of life<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Bestirred by angel wings.<br>
+<br>
+ Thou gavest each breeze an infant's cry,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A wailing, woesome tone;<br>
+ And in each call of wildwood bird<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Spoke still of freedom gone.<br>
+<br>
+ Nay now, why starts she in her path,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; By yonder tangled brake?<br>
+ 'Tis at the dreaded menace sprung<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; By angry rattlesnake.<br>
+<br>
+ But know that fear is not the brand<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That marks the coward slave;<br>
+ 'Tis conquered fear, and duty done,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That tells the truly brave.<br>
+<br>
+ With stick, and stone, and weapon mean<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; She drives the wretch away,<br>
+ And then, with fluttering heart, pursues<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Her solitary way.<br>
+<br>
+ And oft she trips, and oft she falls,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And oft her gown is torn,<br>
+ And oft her tender skin is pierced<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; By many a clutching thorn.<br>
+<br>
+ And weariness her courage tries;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And dread of devious way;<br>
+ And oft she hears the wild-cat shriek<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A requiem o'er its prey.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page078"><!-- Begin Page 78 --></a> And when the
+oppressive summer air<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Hangs heavy in the woods,&mdash;<br>
+ Though many a bank of flowerets fair<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Invites to restful moods;<br>
+<br>
+ And though the ruby humming-bird<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Drones with the humming bee;<br>
+ And every gnat and butterfly<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Soars slow and fitfully;<br>
+<br>
+ No rest that anxious messenger<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of baleful tidings takes,<br>
+ But all the waning afternoon<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Her morning speed she makes.<br>
+<br>
+ Over the hills, and 'mongst the brier,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And through the oozy swamp,<br>
+ Her weary steps must never tire<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Ere burns the firefly's lamp.<br>
+<br>
+ Oh, wherefore drops she on her knees,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And spreads imploring hands?<br>
+ Why blanches that courageous brow?<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Alas! the wolves' dread bands!<br>
+<br>
+ "Nay, not this death, dear Father! Not<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A mangled prey to these!"<br>
+ She faintly cries to Heaven, from out<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The darkening waste of trees.<br>
+<br>
+ Fear not, O patriot, courage take,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Thy Father holds thy hand,<br>
+ Nor lets the powers of ill prevail<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Where He doth take command.<br>
+<br>
+ Away the prowling ghouls are fled,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Some fitter prey to seek;<br>
+ The trembling woman sighs the thanks<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Her white lips cannot speak.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page079"><!-- Begin Page 79 --></a><br>
+
+<center>IV.</center>
+<br>
+ Now wherefore halts that sentry bold,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And lays his piece in rest,<br>
+ As from the shadowy depths below<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; One gains the beechen crest?<br>
+<br>
+ 'Tis but a woman, pale and faint,&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; As woman oft may prove,<br>
+ Whose eagle spirit soars beyond<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The home-flight of the dove.<br>
+<br>
+ How changes now the sentry's mien,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; How soft his tones and low,<br>
+ As Laura Secord tells her tale<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of an impendent foe!<br>
+<br>
+ "God bless thee, now, thou woman bold,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And give thee great reward."<br>
+ The soldier says, with eyes suffused,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And keeps a jealous guard,<br>
+<br>
+ As onward, onward still she goes,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; With steady step and true,<br>
+ Towards her goal, yet far away,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Hid in the horizon blue.<br>
+<br>
+ Behind her grows the golden moon,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Before her fall the shades,<br>
+ And somewhere near her hides the bird<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Whose death-call haunts the glades.<br>
+<br>
+ The early dew blooms all the sod,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The fences undulate<br>
+ In the weird light, like living lines<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That swell with boding hate.<br>
+<br>
+ For she has left the tangled woods,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And keeps the open plain<br>
+ Where once a fruitful farm-land bloomed,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And yet shall bloom again.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page080"><!-- Begin Page 80 --></a> And now, as nears the
+dreaded hour.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Her goal the nearer grows,<br>
+ And hope, the stimulus of life,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Her weary bosom glows.<br>
+<br>
+ Toward's lone Decamp's&mdash;whose ancient home<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Affords Fitzgibbon's band<br>
+ Such shelter as the soldier asks<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Whose life hangs on his brand&mdash;<br>
+<br>
+ A steady mile or so, and then&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Ah, what is't rends the air<br>
+ With horrent, blood-encurdling tones.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The tocsin of despair!<br>
+<br>
+ It is the war-whoop of the braves,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of Kerr's famed Mohawk crew,<br>
+ Who near Fitzgibbon ambushed lie<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To serve that lonely few.<br>
+<br>
+ Startled, yet fearless, on she speeds.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; "Your chief denote," she cries;<br>
+ And, proudly towering o'er the crowd,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The chief does swift arise.<br>
+<br>
+ Fierce rage is in his savage eye,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; His tomahawk in air;<br>
+ "Woman! what woman want?" he cries,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; "Her death does woman dare!"<br>
+<br>
+ But quickly springs she to his side,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And firmly holds his arm,<br>
+ "Oh, chief, indeed no, spy am I,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; But friend to spare you harm."<br>
+<br>
+ And soon she makes her errand known,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And soon, all side by side,<br>
+ The red man and his sister brave<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In silence quickly glide.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page081"><!-- Begin Page 81 --></a> And as the moon
+surmounts the trees,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; They gain the sentried door,<br>
+ And faintly to Fitzgibbon she<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Unfolds her tale once more.<br>
+<br>
+ Then, all her errand done, she seeks<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A lowly dwelling near,<br>
+ And sinks, a worn-out trembling thing,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Too faint to shed a tear.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>V.</center>
+<br>
+ Now let the Lord of Hosts be praised!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Cheer brave Fitzgibbon's band,<br>
+ Whose bold discretion won the day,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And saved our threatened land!<br>
+<br>
+ And cheer that weary traveller,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; On lowly couch that lies,<br>
+ And scarce can break the heavy spell.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That holds her waking eyes.<br>
+<br>
+ No chaplet wreathes her aching brows.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; No paeans rend the air;<br>
+ But in her breast a jewel glows<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The tried and true may wear.<br>
+<br>
+ And Time shall twine her wreath of bays<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Immortal as her fame,<br>
+ And many a generation joy,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In Laura Secord's name.<br>
+<br>
+ "Fitzgibbon and the Forty-ninth!"<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Whene'er ye drink that toast<br>
+ To brave deeds done a grateful land,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Praise Laura Secord most.<br>
+<br>
+ As one who from the charged mine<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Coils back the lighted fuse,<br>
+ 'T was hers, at many a fearful risk,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To carry fateful news;<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page082"><!-- Begin Page 82 --></a> And save the
+dreadnought band; and give<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To Beaver Dam a name,<br>
+ The pride of true Canadian hearts,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of others, but the shame.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>VI.</center>
+<br>
+ Now wherefore trembles still the string<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; By lyric fingers crossed,<br>
+ To Laura Secord's praise and fame,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; When forty years are lost?<br>
+<br>
+ Nay, five and forty, one by one,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Have borne her from the day<br>
+ When, fired by patriotic zeal,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; She trod her lonely way:<br>
+<br>
+ Her hair is white, her step is slow,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Why kindles then her eye,<br>
+ And rings her voice with music sweet<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of many a year gone by?<br>
+<br>
+ O know ye not proud Canada,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; With joyful heart, enfolds<br>
+ In fond embrace, the royal boy<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Whose line her fealty holds?<br>
+<br>
+ For him she spreads her choicest cheer,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And tells her happiest tale,<br>
+ And leads him to her loveliest haunts,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That naught to please may fail.<br>
+<br>
+ And great art thou, O Chippewa,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Though small in neighbours' eyes,<br>
+ When out Niagara's haze thou seest<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A cavalcade arise;<br>
+<br>
+ And, in its midst, the royal boy,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Who, smiling, comes to see<br>
+ An ancient dame whose ancient fame<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Shines in our history.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page083"><!-- Begin Page 83 --></a> He takes the thin and
+faded hand,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; He seats him at her side,<br>
+ Of all that gay and noble band,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That moment well the pride:<br>
+<br>
+ To him the aged Secord tells,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; With many a fervid glow,<br>
+ How, by her means, Fitzgibbon struck<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; His great historic blow.<br>
+<br>
+ Nor deem it ye, as many do,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A weak and idle thing<br>
+ That, at that moment Laura loved<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The praises of a king;<br>
+<br>
+ And dwelt on his approving smile,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And kissed his royal hand,<br>
+ Who represented, and should wield,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The sceptre of our land;<br>
+<br>
+ For where should greatness fire her torch,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; If not at greatness' shrine?<br>
+ And whence should approbation come<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Did not the gods incline?<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>VII.</center>
+<br>
+ And when, from o'er the parting seas,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A royal letter came,<br>
+ And brought a gift to recognize<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Brave Laura Secord's fame.<br>
+<br>
+ What wonder that her kindling eye<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Should fade, suffused in tears?<br>
+ What wonder that her heart should glow,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Oblivious of the years?<br>
+<br>
+ And honour ye the kindly grace<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of him who still hath been<br>
+ In all things kindly, and the praise<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of our beloved Queen.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page084"><!-- Begin Page 84 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="jubilee">THE QUEEN'S JUBILEE,<br>
+ JUNE 21ST, 1887.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp; A Jubilee! A Jubilee!<br>
+ Waft the glad shout across the laughing sea!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A Jubilee! A Jubilee! O bells<br>
+ Ring out our gladness on your merry peals!<br>
+<br>
+ O thou, the root and flower of this our joy,<br>
+ Well may thy praise our grateful hearts employ!<br>
+ Fair as the moon and glorious as the sun,<br>
+ Thy fame to many a future age shall run.<br>
+<br>
+ "I WILL BE GOOD." 'Twas thus thy judgment spake,<br>
+ When, greatness would allure for greatness' sake.<br>
+ Thou <i>hast</i> been good: herein thy strength hath lain;<br>
+ And not thine only, it hath been our gain:<br>
+ Nor ours alone, for every people's voice,<br>
+ Because thou hast been good, doth now rejoice.<br>
+ Beneath the shelter of that fruitful vine&mdash;<br>
+ Thy goodness&mdash;hath pure Virtue reared her shrine.<br>
+ Freedom hath lift her flag, and flung it free,<br>
+ Rejoicing in a god-like liberty.<br>
+ Truth hath her gracious lineaments revealed<br>
+ To humble souls, beneath Victoria's shield.<br>
+ Mercy, whose message bore thy first command,<br>
+ Hath carried festival to every land.<br>
+ Justice hath worn his robes unsmirched of gold;<br>
+ Nor longer strikes in vengeance, as of old.<br>
+ Kind Pity, wheresoe'er the tried might be,<br>
+ Widow, and babe, hath borne a balm from thee.<br>
+ Valour hath drawn his sword with surer aim:<br>
+ And Peace hath signed her treaties in thy name.<br>
+ <a name="page085"><!-- Begin Page 85 --></a> Honour hath worn his
+plumes with nobler grace:<br>
+ And Piety pursued her readier race.<br>
+ Learning hath pressed where ne'er she walked before:<br>
+ And Science touched on realms undreamt of yore.<br>
+ Commerce hath spread wide wings o'er land and sea,<br>
+ And spoken nations glorious yet to be.<br>
+ Before the light of Temperance' purer grace.<br>
+ Excess hath veiled his spoiled and purpled face.<br>
+ And never since the peopled world began<br>
+ Saw it so strong the brotherhood of man.<br>
+ Great glory thus hath gathered round thy name,&mdash;<br>
+ VICTORIA. QUEEN. Goodness hath been thy fame,<br>
+ And greatness shall be, for the twain are one:<br>
+ As thy clear eye discerned ere rule begun.<br>
+ O Queen, receive anew our homage free:<br>
+ Our love and praise on this thy Jubilee.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page086"><!-- Begin Page 86 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="hero">THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND.<br>
+ CANADA'S TRIBUTE TO THE TWENTY-FOURTH (2ND WARWICKSHIRE)
+REGIMENT.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<br>
+
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O the roaring and the thunder!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O the terror and the wonder!<br>
+ O the surging and the seething of the flood!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O the tumbling and the rushing&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O the grinding and the
+crushing&mdash;<br>
+ O the plunging and the rearing of the ice!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When the great St. Lawrence River,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; With a mighty swell and shiver,<br>
+ Bursts amain the wintry bonds that hold him fast.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 'Twas on an April morning&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the air was full of warning<br>
+ Of the havoc and the crash that was to be.&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A deed was done, whose glory<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Flames from out the simple story,<br>
+ Like the living gleam of diamond in the mine.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 'Twas where St. Mary's Ferry<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; In sweet summer makes so merry,<br>
+ 'Twixt St. Helen's fortressed isle and Montreal,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; There, on an April morning,&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As if in haughty scorning<br>
+ Of the tale soft Zephyr told in passing by&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Firm and hard, like road of Roman,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Under team of sturdy yeoman,<br>
+ Or the guns, the ice lay smooth, and bright, and cold.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And watching its resistance<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To the forces in the distance<br>
+ That nearer and yet nearer ever rolled,<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page087"><!-- Begin Page 87 --></a>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Warning off who tempt the crossing,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; All too soon so wildly tossing,<br>
+ Stood a party of Old England's Twenty-Fourth.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; While as yet they gazed in wonder,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sudden boomed the awful thunder<br>
+ That proclaimed the mighty conqueror at hand.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O then the fierce uplifting!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The trembling, and the rifting!<br>
+ The tearing, and the grinding, and the throes!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The chaos and careering,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The toppling and the rearing,<br>
+ The crashing and the dashing of the floes!<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; At such an awful minute<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; A glance,&mdash;the horror in
+it!&mdash;<br>
+ Showed a little maiden midway twixt the shores,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; With hands a-clasp and crying.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And, amid the masses, trying,&mdash;<br>
+ Vainly trying&mdash;to escape on either hand.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O child so rashly daring!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Who thy dreadful peril sharing<br>
+ Shall, to save thee, tempt the terrors of the flood<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; That roaring, leaping, swirling,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And continuously whirling,<br>
+ Threats to whelm in frightful deeps thy tender form!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The helpless soldiers, standing<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; On a small precarious landing,<br>
+ Think of nothing but the child and her despair,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When a voice as from the
+Highest,&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To the child he being nighest&mdash;<br>
+ Falls <i>"Quick-march!"</i> upon the ear of Sergeant Neill.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O blessed sense of duty!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As on banderole of duty<br>
+ His unswerving eye he fixes on the child;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And straight o'er floe and fissure,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Fragments yielding to his pressure,<br>
+ Toppling berg, and giddy block, he takes his way;<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page088"><!-- Begin Page 88 --></a>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sometimes climbing, sometimes
+crawling.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sometimes leaping, sometimes falling,<br>
+ Till at last he stands where cowers the weeping child.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Then with all a victor's bearing.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As in warlike honours sharing,<br>
+ With the child all closely clasped upon his breast,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O'er floe and hummock taking<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Any step for safety making,<br>
+ On he goes, till they who watch can see no more.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; For both glass and light are failing.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As the ice-pack, slowly sailing,<br>
+ Bears him onward past the shore of far Longueil.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Lost!" his comrades cry, and
+turning.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Eyes cast down, and bosoms burning,<br>
+ Gain the shelter of their quiet barrack home;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Where, all night, the tortured father<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Clasps the agonizing mother.<br>
+ In the mute embrace of hopelessness and dread.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O the rapid alternations<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When the loud reverberations<br>
+ Of the evening gun boom forth the hour of rest!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The suffering and the sorrow!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The praying for the morrow!<br>
+ The fears, the hopes, that tear the parents breasts!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And many a word is spoken<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; At the mess, so sadly broken,<br>
+ Of the men who mourn their comrade brave and true<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And many a tear-drop glistens,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Where a watching mother listens<br>
+ To the tumult of the ice along the shore.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And ever creeping nearer,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Children hold each other dearer,<br>
+ In the gaps of slumber broken by its roar.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Twice broke the rosy dawning<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Of a sunny April morning,<br>
+ <a name="page089"><!-- Begin Page 89 --></a> And Hope had drooped
+her failing wings, to die;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When o'er the swelling river,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Like an arrow from a quiver,<br>
+ Came the news of rescue, safety, glad return;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the mother, as from Heaven,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Clasped her treasure, newly-given;<br>
+ And the father wrung the hand of Sergeant Neill:<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Who shrunk from their caressing,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Nor looked for praise or blessing,<br>
+ But straight returned to duty and his post.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And this the grateful story,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To others' praise and glory,<br>
+ That the Sergeant told his comrades round the fire.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Far down the swelling river,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To the ocean flowing ever,<br>
+ With its teeming life of porpoise, fish, and seal,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; There hardy, brave, and daring,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Dwells the <i>habitant</i>; nor
+caring<br>
+ Save to make his frugal living by his skill.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Nor heeds he of the weather,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; For scale, and fur, and feather,<br>
+ Lay their tribute in his hand the year around.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; On the sunny April morning,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; That the ice had given warning<br>
+ Of the havoc and the crash that was to be,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Stood Pierre, Louis, gazing,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Their prayers to Mary raising,<br>
+ For a season full of bounty from the sea.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And when the light was failing,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the ice-pack, slowly-sailing,<br>
+ Crashing, tumbling, roaring, thundering, passed them by,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Their quick eye saw with wonder,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; On the masses torn asunder,<br>
+ An unfortunate who drifted to his doom.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page090"><!-- Begin Page 90 --></a>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "O then the exclamations!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The rapid preparations!<br>
+ The launching of canoes upon the wave!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The signalling and shouting!&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Death and disaster flouting&mdash;<br>
+ The anxious haste, the strife, a human life to save<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Across the boiling surges,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Each man his light bark urges,<br>
+ Though death is in the error of a stroke;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And paddling, poising, drifting,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O'er the floes the light shell
+lifting,<br>
+ The gallant fellows reach the whirling pack:<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And from the frightful danger,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; They save the worn-out stranger.<br>
+ And oh, to see the nursling in his arms!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And oh, the pious caring,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The sweet and tender faring,<br>
+ From the gentle hands of Marie and Louise!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the pretty, smiling faces,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As the travellers take their places<br>
+ To return again to those who weep their loss.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the Sergeant's story ending,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; His head in rev'rence bending,<br>
+ He cried "God bless for ever all noble souls like these!"<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But cheer on cheer resounded,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Till the officers, astounded<br>
+ At their mess, upon their sword-hilts clapped their hands.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the plaudits rose still higher,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When they joined with martial fire,<br>
+ In the cry "God bless the Twenty-Fourth, and its gallant Sergeant
+Neill!"<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page091"><!-- Begin Page 91 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="veterans">OCTOBER 13TH, 1872.<br>
+ A PLEA FOR THE VETERANS OF 1812.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<br>
+
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Forget not, Canada, the men who gave,<br>
+ In fierce and bloody fray, their lives for thine.<br>
+ Pause thou, Ontario, in thy forward march,<br>
+ And give a tear to those who, long ago,<br>
+ On this day fell upon those Heights where now<br>
+ Their ashes rest beneath memorial pile.<br>
+ And while those names, BROCK and MACDONELL, wake<br>
+ A throb of emulative gratitude<br>
+ And patriotic fervour in thy breast,<br>
+ Forget not those&mdash;"the boys," the nameless ones,&mdash;<br>
+ Who also fought and fell on that October day;<br>
+ Nameless their ashes, but their memories dear!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Remember, too,<br>
+ Those grandsires at thy hearths who linger still;<br>
+ Whose youthful arms then helped to guard thy peace,<br>
+ Thy peace their own. And ere they go to join<br>
+ Their ancient comrades of the hard-won fight,<br>
+ Glad their brave hearts with one applauding cheer<br>
+ In memory of the day. Comfort their age<br>
+ With plenty. Let them find that sturdy youth,<br>
+ Whose heritage they saved, bows rev'rent head,<br>
+ And lends a strong right arm to ancient men,<br>
+ Whose deeds of patriot prowess deck the silk<br>
+ That waves so proudly from the nation's
+towers.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page092"><!-- Begin Page 92 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="loyal">LOYAL.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<p style="margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em;">"The Loyalists
+having sacrificed their property to their politics, were generally
+poor, and had to work hard and suffer many privations before they
+could reap crops to support their families. In those early days
+there were no merchants, no bakeries, no butchers' shop's, no
+medical men to relieve the fevered brain or soothe a mother's
+aching heart, no public house, no minister to console the dying or
+bury the dead, no means of instruction for the young; all was bush,
+hard labour and pinching privation for the present, and long toil
+for the rising generations."</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">REV. G. A. ANDERSON,<br>
+ <i>Protestant Chaplain to the Reformatory,
+Penetanguishene</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>O Ye, who with your blood and sweat<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Watered the furrows of this land,&mdash;<br>
+ See where upon a nation's brow<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In honour's front, ye proudly stand!<br>
+<br>
+ Who for her pride abased your own,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And gladly on her altar laid<br>
+ All bounty of the older world,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; All memories that your glory made.<br>
+<br>
+ And to her service bowed your strength,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Took labour for your shield and crest;<br>
+ See where upon a nation's brow<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Her diadem, ye proudly test!<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page093"><!-- Begin Page 93 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="heights">ON QUEENSTON HEIGHTS.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I
+stood on Queenston Heights;<br>
+ And as I gazed from tomb to cenotaph,<br>
+ From cenotaph to tomb, adown and up,<br>
+ My heart grew full, much moved with many thoughts.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; At
+length I cried:<br>
+ "O robed with honour and with glory crowned,<br>
+ Tell me again the story of yon pile."<br>
+ And straight the ancient, shuddering cedars wept,<br>
+ The solemn junipers indued their pall,<br>
+ The moaning wind crept through the trembling oaks<br>
+ And, shrieking, fled. Strange clamour filled the air;<br>
+ The steepy hill shook with the rush of arms;<br>
+ Around me rolled the tide of sudden war.<br>
+ The booming guns pealed forth their dreadful knell;<br>
+ Musketry rattled; shouts, cries, groans, were heard;<br>
+ Men met as foes, and deadly strife ensued.<br>
+ From side to side the surging combat rolled,<br>
+ And as it rolled, passed from my ken.<br>
+ A silence! On the hill an alien flag<br>
+ Flies flaunting in the wind, mocking the gun.<br>
+ Dark forms pour o'er the heights, and Britain's day<br>
+ Broods dark.<br>
+ But hark! a ringing cheer peals up the height<br>
+ Once more the battle's tide bursts on my view.<br>
+ Brock to the rescue! Down goes the alien flag!<br>
+ Back, back the dark battalions fall. On, on<br>
+ The "Tigers" come. Down pours the rattling shot<br>
+ From out the verdant grove, like sheets of hail.<br>
+ Up, up they press, York volunteers and all.<br>
+ Aha! the day is ours! See, where the hero comes<br>
+ In conquering might, quick driving all before him!<br>
+ O brave ensample! O beloved chief!<br>
+ <a name="page094"><!-- Begin Page 94 --></a> Who follows thee
+keeps ever pace with honour.<br>
+ Shout Victory! Proud victory is ours!<br>
+ Ours, noble Brock!<br>
+<br>
+ Ours? DEATH'S! <i>Death wins;</i> THE DAY IS HIS.<br>
+<br>
+ Ah! shudder still ye darkling cedars,<br>
+ Chant yet your doleful monotone, ye winds;<br>
+ Indue again your grey funereal pall,<br>
+ Ye solemn junipers; for here he fell,<br>
+ And here he lies,&mdash;dust; ashes; nothing.<br>
+<br>
+ Such tale the hill-side told me, and I wept.<br>
+ Nay! I wept <i>not!</i> The hot, indignant thoughts<br>
+ That filled my breast burned up the welling tears<br>
+ Ere they had chance to flow, and forward Hate<br>
+ Spake rashly. But calm Reflection<br>
+ Laid her cool hand upon my throbbing brow<br>
+ And whispered, "As up the misty stream<br>
+ The <i>Norseman</i> crept to-day, and signals white<br>
+ Waved kind salutes from yon opposing shore;<br>
+ And as ye peered the dusky vista through,<br>
+ To catch first glimpse of yonder glorious plinth,<br>
+ Yet saw it not till <i>I</i> your glance directed,&mdash;<br>
+ So high it towered above the common plane;&mdash;<br>
+ So, towering over Time, shall Brock e'er stand.&mdash;<br>
+ So, from those banks, shall white-robed Peace e'er
+smile.<br></td></tr></table>
+<p><i>October 12, 1881</i>.</p>
+<a name="page095"><!-- Begin Page 95 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="mayor">NEW ORLEANS, MONROE, MAYOR, APRIL 29, 1862.<br>
+ THE HAULING DOWN OF THE STATE FLAG FROM OVER THE CITY
+HALL.</a></h3>
+<p style="margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em;">"The crowd flowed
+in from every direction and filled the street in a compact mass
+both above and below the square. They were silent, but angry and
+threatening. An open way was left in front of the hall, and their
+force being stationed, Captain Bell and Lieutenant Kantz passed
+across the street, mounted the hall steps and entered the Mayor's
+parlour. Approaching the Mayor, Captain Bell said: "I have come in
+obedience to orders to haul down the State flag from this
+building." ... As soon as the two officers left the room Mr. Monroe
+also went out. Descending the front steps he walked out into the
+street, and placed himself immediately in front of the howitzer
+pointing down St. Charles Street. There, folding his arms, he fixed
+his eyes upon the gunner who stood, lanyard in hand, ready for
+action. Here he remained without once looking up or moving, until
+the flag had been hauled down by Lieutenant Kantz, and he and
+Captain Bell reappeared.... As they passed out through the Camp
+Street gate, Mr. Monroe turned towards the hall, and the people,
+who had hitherto preserved the silence he had asked from them,
+broke into cheers for their Mayor."</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">MARION A. BAKER, <i>in July (1886)
+Century</i>.</p>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>A noble man! a man deserving trust.<br>
+ A man in whom the higher elements<br>
+ Worked freely. A man of dignity;<br>
+ On whom the robes and badge of state sat well<br>
+ Because the majesty of self-control,<br>
+ And all its grace, were his.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I see him now&mdash;<br>
+ Pale with the pallor of a full, proud heart&mdash;<br>
+ Descend those steps and take his imminent place<br>
+ Before the deadly piece, as who should say<br>
+ "'Ware ye! these people are my people; such<br>
+ Their inward heat and mine at this poor deed<br>
+ That scarce we can control our kindled blood.<br>
+ <a name="page096"><!-- Begin Page 96 --></a> But should ye mow
+them down, ye mow me too.<br>
+ 'Ware ye!"<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; O men
+for whose dear sake he stood<br>
+ An offering and a hostage; on that scroll<br>
+ Old Chronos doth unfold along the years<br>
+ Are writ in gold names of undaunted Mayors,<br>
+ Pepin and Charlemagne, and Whittington<br>
+ And White. Did not your fathers know them?<br>
+ And shall not he, your Mayor of 'Sixty-two,<br>
+ Monroe, stand side by side with them?<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page097"><!-- Begin Page 97 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="emigrant">THE EMIGRANT'S SONG.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>
+<center>I.</center>
+<br>
+ No work, no home, no wealth have I,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; But Mary loves me true,<br>
+ And, for her sake, upon my knees<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; I'd beg the wide world through:<br>
+ For her sweet eyes look into mine<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; With fondness soft and deep;<br>
+ My heart's entranced, and I could die<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Were death a conscious sleep.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>II.</center>
+<br>
+ But life is work, and work is life,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And life's the way to heaven,<br>
+ And hand-in-hand we'd like to go<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The road that God has given.<br>
+ And England, dear old Motherland,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Has plenty mouths to feed<br>
+ Without her sons and daughters fair,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Whose strength is as their need.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<center>III.</center>
+<br>
+ To Canada! To Canada!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To that fair land I'll roam,<br>
+ And till the soil with heart of grace,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For Mary and a home.<br>
+ Hurrah for love! Hurrah for hope!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Hurrah for industry!<br>
+ Hurrah for bonnie Canada,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And her bonnie maple tree!<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page098"><!-- Begin Page 98 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="summer">TO THE INDIAN SUMMER.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>And art thou come again, sweet Indian maid!<br>
+ How beautiful thou art where thou dost stand,<br>
+ With step arrested, on the bridge that joins<br>
+ The Past and Future&mdash;thy one hand waving<br>
+ Farewell to Summer, whose fond kiss hath set<br>
+ Thy yellow cheeks aglow, the other stretched<br>
+ To greet advancing Winter!<br>
+ Nor can thy veil, tissue diaphanous<br>
+ Of crimsoned haze, conceal thy lustrous eyes;&mdash;<br>
+ Those eyes in whose dark depths a tear-drop lurks<br>
+ Ready to fall, for Beauty loved and lost.<br>
+ From thy point gazing, maiden, let us, too,<br>
+ Once more behold the panorama fair<br>
+ Of the lost year. See where, far down yon slope<br>
+ That meets the sun, doth quick advance gay Spring,<br>
+ His dainty fingers filled with swelling buds:<br>
+ O'er his wreathed head, among the enlacing trees,<br>
+ The merry birds flit in and out, to choose<br>
+ A happy resting-place; and singing rills<br>
+ Dwell on his praise. Gladly his laughing eyes<br>
+ Rest on fair Summer's zone set thick with flowers,<br>
+ That chide their own profusion as, tiptoe,<br>
+ And arm outstretched, she reaches to restore<br>
+ The fallen nestling, venturous and weak:<br>
+ While many a nursling claims her tender care.<br>
+ Beneath her smile all Nature doth rejoice,<br>
+ And breaks into a song that sweeps the plain<br>
+ Where now the swarthy Autumn, girded close,<br>
+ Gathers his yellow sheaves and juicy fruit<br>
+ To overflowing garners; measure full,<br>
+ And blest to grateful souls. Through the low air<br>
+ <a name="page099"><!-- Begin Page 99 --></a> A myriad wings circle
+in restless sort;<br>
+ And from the rustling woods there comes a sound<br>
+ Of dropping nuts and acorns&mdash;welcome store<br>
+ To little chipmunk and to squirrel blithe:<br>
+ Dependants small on Nature's wide largesse.<br>
+ How doth the enchanting picture fill our souls<br>
+ With faith! Sweet Indian maid, we turn with thee<br>
+ And greet gray Winter with a trustful smile.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page100"><!-- Begin Page 100 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="june">IN JUNE.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>I cannot sleep, and morning's earliest light,<br>
+ All soft and rosy, tempts my restlessness<br>
+ To ask from Nature what of peace she gives.<br>
+ I gaze abroad, and all my soul is moved<br>
+ At that strange calm that floats o'er earth at rest.<br>
+ The silver sickle of the summer moon<br>
+ Hangs on the purple east. The morning star,<br>
+ Like a late watcher's lamp, pales in the dawn.<br>
+ Yonder, the lake, that 'neath the midday sun<br>
+ All restless glows and burns like burnished shield,<br>
+ Lies as a child at rest with curtain drawn.<br>
+ The forest trees are still. The babbling creek<br>
+ Flows softly through the copse and glides away;<br>
+ And the fair flowers, that lie as thick and sweet<br>
+ As posies at a bridal, sleep quietly.<br>
+ No early breeze his perfumed wings unfolds.<br>
+ No painted butterfly to pleasure wakes.<br>
+ The bees, whose busy hum pervades the hours<br>
+ Through all the sultry day, keep yet the hive.<br>
+ And, save the swallow, whose long line of works<br>
+ Beneath each gable, points to labours vast,<br>
+ No bird yet stirs. Upon the dewy mead<br>
+ The kine repose; the active horse lies prone;<br>
+ And the white ewes doze o'er their tender lambs,<br>
+ Like village mothers with their babes at breast.<br>
+ So still, so fair, so calm, the morning broods,<br>
+ That, while I know the gairish day will come,<br>
+ And bring its clouds of gnat-like stinging cares,<br>
+ Rest steals into my heart, and gentle peace.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page101"><!-- Begin Page 101 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="livingstone">LIVINGSTONE.<br>
+ OBIT MAY 1ST, 1883.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Sleep now and take thy rest, thou mighty dead!<br>
+ Thy work is done&mdash;thy grand and glorious work.<br>
+ Not "Caput Nili" shall thy trophy be.<br>
+ But <i>broken slave-sticks and a riven chain</i>.<br>
+ As the man Moses, thy great prototype,<br>
+ Snatched, by the hand of God, his groaning millions<br>
+ From out the greedy clutch of Egypt's despot;<br>
+ So hast thou done for Afric's toiling sons:<br>
+ Hast snatched its peoples from the poisonous fangs<br>
+ Of hissing Satan, veiled in commerce foul.<br>
+ For this thy fame shall ring; for this thy praise<br>
+ Shall be in every mouth for ever. Ay,<br>
+ Thy true human heart hath here its guerdon&mdash;<br>
+ A continent redeemed from slavery.&mdash;<br>
+ To this, how small the other! Yet 'twas great.<br>
+ Ah, not in vain those long delays, those groans<br>
+ Wrung from thy patient soul by obstacle,<br>
+ The work of peevish man; these were the checks<br>
+ From that Hand guiding, that led thee all the way.<br>
+ <i>He</i> willed thy soul should vex at tyranny;<br>
+ Thine ear should ring with murdered women's shrieks,<br>
+ That torturing famine should thy footsteps clog;<br>
+ That captive's broken hearts should ache thine own.<br>
+ And Slavery&mdash;that villain plausible&mdash;<br>
+ That thief Gehazi!&mdash;He stripped before thine eyes<br>
+ And showed him all a leper, foul, accursed.<br>
+ <i>He</i> touched thy lips, and every word of thine<br>
+ Vibrates on chords whose deep electric thrill<br>
+ <a name="page102"><!-- Begin Page 102 --></a> Shall never cease
+till that wide wound be healed.<br>
+ And then He took thee home. Ay, home, great heart!<br>
+ Home to <i>His</i> home, where never envious tongue,<br>
+ Nor vile detraction, nor base ingratitude,<br>
+ Nor cold neglect, shall sting the quiv'ring heart.<br>
+ Thou endedst well. One step from earth to Heaven,<br>
+ When His voice called "Friend, come up higher."</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page103"><!-- Begin Page 103 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="queen">ON SEEING THE ENGRAVING<br>
+ "THE FIRST VISIT OF QUEEN VICTORIA TO HER WOUNDED<br>
+ SOLDIERS ON THEIR RETURN FROM THE CRIMEA."</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Yes, go to them, the brave, the tried, the hurt&mdash;<br>
+ 'Tis very fitting so! <i>We</i> cannot go&mdash;<br>
+ Some scores of million souls&mdash;to tell them all<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We
+think and feel:<br>
+ To ease the burden of our laden hearts;<br>
+ To give the warm grasp of our British hands<br>
+ In strong assurance of our praise and love;<br>
+ Of our deep gratitude, to them, our friends,<br>
+ Our <i>brothers</i>, who for us toiled, suffered, bled:<br>
+ And left, as we, their dead upon the field,<br>
+ Their comrades tried and true, around Scutari.<br>
+ Go to them, then, dear Queen,'tis very fitting so!<br>
+ <i>Thy</i> hand can clasp for <i>ours. Thy</i> voice express<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+<i>Our</i> hearts.<br>
+ We send thee as our <i>best</i>, as so we ought;<br>
+ We send thee as our <i>dearest</i>, as thou art;<br>
+ We send thee our <i>elect</i>, perfect to fill<br>
+ The office thou hast chosen for our sakes.<br>
+ A gentle woman thou, and therefore tender:&mdash;<br>
+ A loving wife, and therefore sympathetic:&mdash;<br>
+ A mother, thou, and therefore patient:&mdash;<br>
+ Is there a son among those wounded men<br>
+ Has made his mother sad? Thy tear will soften him.<br>
+ Is there a husband kept from wife and bairns?<br>
+ Thy smile will comfort him.<br>
+ Is there a lonely one with none to love?<br>
+ He'll warm beneath thy glance, his dear Queen's glance;<br>
+ And&mdash;soldiers all&mdash;they'll all forget their pains,<br>
+ And long to fight again, even to fall, for thee.<br>
+ <a name="page104"><!-- Begin Page 104 --></a> And if for thee, for
+us; us, who would clasp<br>
+ Their thin worn hands in ours, and smile our thanks,<br>
+ And speak our praise of them, and heal their wounds<br>
+ With gentlest care, each, for himself, if so<br>
+ We might thus ease our o'er-full hearts.<br>
+ Yet happy are we still in this, nay, happier,&mdash;<br>
+ Thou being that <i>our best; our dearest;</i><br>
+ <i>Our elect; perfect epitome</i><br>
+ <i>Of all we would</i>&mdash;that thou dost go to
+them.<br></td></tr></table>
+<p><i>Great Western Hotel, Liverpool, June 9, 1880</i>.</p>
+<a name="page105"><!-- Begin Page 105 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="child">TO A CHILD<br>
+ SINGING "JESUS LOVES ME, THIS I KNOW."</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Sing, little darling, sing,<br>
+ And may thy song be everlasting!<br>
+ Not all the learning wits and sages boast<br>
+ Can equal the sweet burden of thy song;&mdash;<br>
+ Can yield such rest amid life's noisiest strife;&mdash;<br>
+ Such peace to still the spirit's wildest wars;&mdash;<br>
+ Such hope to stem the most tumultuous wave<br>
+ May threat to overwhelm.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The
+love of Jesus,&mdash;<br>
+ Sweet, having this thou risest far above<br>
+ All this world's clouds, and catchest glimpse of Heaven.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Did He
+who blest<br>
+ That infant band that crowded round His knee,<br>
+ See, in a face like thine, a tender memory<br>
+ Of that dear home He left for our sakes?<br>
+ It may be; nay, it must: "Of such," He said,<br>
+ "My Father's kingdom." And His great heart<br>
+ Went out in fondest tones: His soft embrace<br>
+ Encircling such as thou, thrilled out that love<br>
+ That vibrates yet, and still enfolds so warm<br>
+ His tender lambs.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sing,
+little darling, sing,<br>
+ And may thy song be everlasting.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page106"><!-- Begin Page 106 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="home">HOME.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>The morning sun shone soft and bright,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The air was pure and clear,<br>
+ My steady steps fell quick and light,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Nor knew my soul a fear.<br>
+ For though the way was long and cold,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The end I knew not where,<br>
+ Hope's vivid pictures made me bold<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To wait, or do, or dare.<br>
+<br>
+ But ah, the change when evening gray<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Curtained a cloudy sky,<br>
+ And languid, I retraced the way<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; My feet could scarce descry!<br>
+ By rugged care my heart was bruised,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Hope's rainbow tints were gone;<br>
+ To this world's watch and ward unused,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; I could but stumble on.<br>
+<br>
+ The rough wind's breath, the dark sky's frown<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Fell like the stroke of wrath,<br>
+ When&mdash;from above a star looked down&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A ray beamed on my path.<br>
+ The light of Home&mdash;oh, blessed light&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To weary wanderers dear!<br>
+ The light of Heaven, oh, glorious light<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To souls that stumble here!<br>
+<br>
+ What matters now the weary road,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; My toil shall soon be o'er;<br>
+ And, oh, at last, at home with God<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Life's cares shall cark no more.<br>
+ Be this my hope! Be this my aim!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Though rough the road may be,<br>
+ Thy feet, blest Jesus, trod the same,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And I would follow Thee.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page107"><!-- Begin Page 107 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="lost">LOST WITH HIS BOAT.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Alone&mdash;alone! I sit, and make my moan.<br>
+ The fire burns low, the candle flickers dim.<br>
+ Alone&mdash;alone! I rock, and think of him.<br>
+ Of him who left me in the purple pride<br>
+ Of early manhood. <i>Yestermorn</i> he went.<br>
+ The sun shone bright, and scintillant the tide.<br>
+ O'er which the sea-mew swept, with dewy drops besprent.<br>
+ Before he went he kissed me; and I watched<br>
+ His boat that lay so still and stately, till<br>
+ Automaton she seemed, and that she moved<br>
+ To where she willed of her own force and law.<br>
+ But I knew better: <i>his</i> was the will<br>
+ That set the pretty sprite a-going.<br>
+ His arms controlled her to obedience:<br>
+ Those arms that lately clasped me.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; No
+alarms<br>
+ Chilled my fond heart, nor dimmed my vision.<br>
+ As I saw the fair white messenger move off<br>
+ On fleecy puffs of cloud into the blue;<br>
+ My nearest thought to trim my hearth, and make,<br>
+ A dainty dish would please my darling's taste<br>
+ On his return. And all day long, and through<br>
+ The dreamy summer day, my thoughts were full<br>
+ Of many a gay return; my ears reheard<br>
+ The cheery word and joke were wont to mark them.<br>
+ Nor when the sun went down in wrack and mist&mdash;<br>
+ A mist that gathers who knows how or where?&mdash;<br>
+ Feared I of aught. My little hearth burned bright.<br>
+ The kettle sang, and pussy purred and napped;<br>
+ And&mdash;rocking to and fro, as I do now,<br>
+ I hummed a little song; one <i>he</i>, had sung<br>
+ In other days, and with the manly tones<br>
+ <a name="page108"><!-- Begin Page 108 --></a> Had stolen my heart
+away.<br>
+ The hearth burned low; I ate my meal alone,<br>
+ And something like a fear I chased away,<br>
+ Despite the deepening surges of the wind<br>
+ That scurried round our cot.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I
+slept: and waked<br>
+ What time the summer storm, that rose and fell<br>
+ In sullen gusts, flew by; and slept again,<br>
+ And dreamed a glad return. When morning broke<br>
+ A glorious day begun. The storm was gone:<br>
+ The sparkling waves toyed with the lilting breeze;<br>
+ The merry sun shone bright; and all the blue<br>
+ Was decked with tiny flecks of feathery white.<br>
+ A gladsome morn! But I, I missed my love.<br>
+<br>
+ <i>And now they say he's dead</i>. Lost, with his boat,<br>
+ In that short summer storm of yesternight.<br>
+ Lost! <i>lost</i>! my love is lost! No more may I<br>
+ Welcome his step, hear his glad voice, and kiss<br>
+ His laughing lips. I may not even clasp<br>
+ His cold dead form in one long, last embrace!<br>
+ And here I sit alone.&mdash;<br>
+ I drove them all away, their words but maddened me.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Alone
+I sit,<br>
+ And rock, and think,&mdash;I cannot weep&mdash;<br>
+ And conjure up the depths, those cruel depths<br>
+ That chafe and fret, and roll him to and fro<br>
+ Like a stray log:&mdash;he, whose dear limbs should lie<br>
+ Peaceful and soft, in rev'rent care bestowed.&mdash;<br>
+ Or in the sunken boat, gulfed at his work,<br>
+ I see his blackened corse, even in death<br>
+ Faithful to duty. O that those waves,<br>
+ That with their gentle lullaby mock my wild woe,<br>
+ Would rise in all their might and 'whelm me too!<br>
+ Oh, love!&mdash;oh, love!&mdash;my love!<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page109"><!-- Begin Page 109 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="life">LIFE IN DEATH.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>On her pale bier the baby lay,<br>
+ And healthy children from their play,<br>
+ With tip-toe awe and bated breath,<br>
+ Came gently in to look on Death.<br>
+<br>
+ One touched the flowers that decked the bier;<br>
+ Another dropped a little tear;<br>
+ One stroked the cheek so waxy white;<br>
+ And one cowered weeping with affright.<br>
+<br>
+ But one fair boy won Life from Death<br>
+ By that quick faith that childhood hath;<br>
+ And cried, with gaze past present things,<br>
+ "P'raps baby's trying her new wings."<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page110"><!-- Begin Page 110 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="rain">INVOCATION TO RAIN.<br>
+ MAY, 1874.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>O blessed angel of the All-bounteous King,<br>
+ Where dost thou stay so long? Our sad hearts pine,<br>
+ Our spirits faint, for thee. Our weary eyes<br>
+ Scan all the blue expanse, where not a cloud<br>
+ Floats low to rest our vision. In vain we turn<br>
+ Or East or West, no vap'rous haze, nor view<br>
+ Of distant panorama, wins our souls<br>
+ To other worlds. All, all is hard and scant.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Thy
+brother Spring is come.<br>
+ His favourite haunts the sheltering woods betray&mdash;<br>
+ The woods that, dark and cheerless yet, call thee.<br>
+ Tender hepaticas peep forth, and mottled leaves<br>
+ Of yellow dog's tooth vie with curly fronds<br>
+ Of feathery fern, in strewing o'er his path;<br>
+ The dielytra puts her necklace on,<br>
+ Of pearly pendants, topaz-tipped or rose.<br>
+ Gray buds are on the orchard trees, and grass<br>
+ Grows up in single blades and braves the sun.<br>
+ But thou!&mdash;O, where art thou, sweet early Rain,<br>
+ That with thy free libations fill'st our cup?<br>
+ The contemplative blue-bird pipes his note<br>
+ From off the ridge cap, but can find no spot<br>
+ Fit for his nest. The red-breast on the fence<br>
+ Explores the pasture with his piercing eye,<br>
+ And visits oft the bushes by the stream,<br>
+ But takes no mate. For why? No leaves or tuft<br>
+ Are there to hide a home. Oh what is earth<br>
+ Without a home? On the dry garden bed,<br>
+ <a name="page111"><!-- Begin Page 111 --></a> The
+sparrow&mdash;the little immigrant bird&mdash;<br>
+ Hops quick, and looks askance,<br>
+ And pecks, and chirps, asking for kindly crumbs&mdash;<br>
+ Just two or three to feed his little mate:<br>
+ Then, on return from some small cunning nook<br>
+ Where he has hidden her, he mounts the wires,<br>
+ Or garden fence, and sings a happy song<br>
+ Of home, and other days. A-missing thee<br>
+ The husbandman goes forth with faltering step<br>
+ And dull sad eye; his sweltering team pulls hard<br>
+ The lab'ring plough, but the dry earth falls back<br>
+ As dead, and gives nor fragrant fume, nor clogs<br>
+ The plough-boy's feet with rich encumb'ring mould.<br>
+ The willows have a little tender green.<br>
+ And swallows cross the creek&mdash;the gurgling creek<br>
+ Now fallen to pools&mdash;but, disappointed,<br>
+ Dart away so swift, and fly so high<br>
+ We scarce can follow them. Thus all the land<br>
+ Doth mourn for thee.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Ah!
+here thou comest&mdash;sweet Rain.<br>
+ Soft, tender Rain! benison of the skies!<br>
+ See now, what transformation in thy touch!<br>
+ Straight all the land is green. The blossoming trees<br>
+ Put on their bridal wreaths, and veil their charms<br>
+ From the too ardent sun, beneath thy gift<br>
+ Of soft diaphanous tissue, pure and white<br>
+ As angel's raiment. Little wood children<br>
+ Deck all the path with flowers. The teeming earth<br>
+ Offers rich gifts. The little choristers<br>
+ Sing ceaseless hymns, and the glad husbandman<br>
+ Adds his diapason. Bright fountains wake<br>
+ And mingle with the swift roulade of streams.<br>
+ The earth is full of music! Thou dost swing<br>
+ Thy fragrant censer high, and dwellers in<br>
+ The dusty city raise their toil-worn heads<br>
+ From desk and bench, and cry "Summer is here!"<br>
+ <a name="page112"><!-- Begin Page 112 --></a> And straight they
+smell new hay and clover blooms;<br>
+ And see the trout swift-darting in the brooks:<br>
+ And hear the plover whistling in the fields.<br>
+ And little children dream of daisy chains;<br>
+ And pent-up youth thinks of a holiday;<br>
+ A holiday with romps, and cream, and flowers.<br>
+ O, Rain! O, soft, sweet Rain! O liberal Rain!<br>
+ Touch our hard hearts, that we may more become<br>
+ Like that Great Heart, whose almoner art
+thou.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page113"><!-- Begin Page 113 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="remonstrance">REMONSTRANCE WITH "REMONSTRANCE."<br>
+ (IN "CANADIAN MONTHLY," APRIL, 1874.)</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Why now, sweet Alice, though thy numbers ring<br>
+ Like silver bells, methinks their burden wrong.<br>
+ For if 'tis right, then were the hermits right,<br>
+ And all recluses. And He was wrong<br>
+ Who gave to Adam, Eve: and leaned upon<br>
+ The breast of John the loved. So was He wrong<br>
+ To love the gentle home at Bethany.<br>
+ The sisters, and their brother Lazarus.<br>
+ So was He wrong to weep at Lazarus' grave,<br>
+ Pity's hot tears for Sin, and Death, and Woe.<br>
+ And in that awful hour when manhood failed<br>
+ And God forsook, He still was wrong to think<br>
+ With tenderest solicitude and care<br>
+ Upon his mother, and leave her in the charge<br>
+ Of John. And He was wrong who gave us hearts<br>
+ To yearn, and sensibilities to meet<br>
+ Those "clinging tendrils" thou wouldst have us cut.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; If thou art right, sweet
+Alice,<br>
+ There were no ties of infancy, or age;<br>
+ Of consanguinity: or noble bond<br>
+ Of wide humanity, or sacred home:<br>
+ For without love,&mdash;e'en our poor earthly love,&mdash;<br>
+ The world were dead.<br>
+ Love is the silver cord, that, being loosed,<br>
+ The fabric of humanity falls wide<br>
+ In hopeless wrack. Well for us it is<br>
+ That when our nature, hurt, falls, shrieking, down,<br>
+ The Great Physician's hand may raise it up<br>
+ <a name="page114"><!-- Begin Page 114 --></a> And bind the wound.
+But what mad folly 'twere<br>
+ Did we, like peevish child, beat down the hand,<br>
+ And tear afresh the wound. And this we do<br>
+ When of our morbid selves we idols make,<br>
+ And cry "No sorrow like to mine."<br>
+ O rather should we turn our tenderer hearts&mdash;<br>
+ Made gentler by our griefs&mdash;to gentle cares<br>
+ For weak Humanity, and, knowing what woe<br>
+ Our sinful nature brings upon itself,<br>
+ With God-like pity love it but the more.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page115"><!-- Begin Page 115 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="absent">THE ABSENT ONES.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>How I miss their faces!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Faces that I love.<br>
+ Where I read the traces<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Heart and soul approve.<br>
+ Traces of their father<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Scattered here and there;<br>
+ Here a little gesture,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; There a twist of hair.<br>
+ Brave and generous Bertie,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Sweet and quiet Fred,<br>
+ Tender-hearted Jackie,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Various, but true-bred.<br>
+<br>
+ How I miss their voices<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Raised in laughter gay;<br>
+ And in loving blessing<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; When they go to pray.<br>
+ Even of their quarrels<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Miss I now the noise,<br>
+ Angry or disdainful,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; (What are they but boys?)<br>
+ Shouting in the garden,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Spurring on the game,<br>
+ Calling a companion<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; By some favourite name.<br>
+<br>
+ How I miss the footsteps,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Lightsome, loud, or slow;<br>
+ Telling by their echo<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; How the humours go.<br>
+ <a name="page116"><!-- Begin Page 116 --></a> Lagging when they're
+lazy.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Running when they're wild.<br>
+ Leaping when they're gladsome,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Walking when they're mild.<br>
+ Footsteps, voices, faces,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Where are ye to-night?<br>
+ Father, keep my darlings<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Ever in Thy sight.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page117"><!-- Begin Page 117 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="away">AWAY.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Oh, where are all the madcaps gone?<br>
+ Why is the house so drear and lone?<br>
+ No merry whistle wakes the day,<br>
+ Nor evening rings with jocund play.<br>
+ No clanging bell, with hasty din,<br>
+ Precedes the shout, "Is Bertie in?"<br>
+ Or "Where is Fred?" "Can I see Jack?"<br>
+ "How soon will he be coming back?<br>
+ Or "Georgie asks may I go out,"<br>
+ He has a treasure just found out."<br>
+ The wood lies out in all the rain,<br>
+ No willing arms to load are fain<br>
+ The weeds grow thick among the flowers,<br>
+ And make the best of sunny hours;<br>
+ The drums are silent; fifes are mute;<br>
+ No tones are raised in high dispute;<br>
+ No hearty laughter's cheerful sound<br>
+ Announces fun and frolic round.<br>
+ Here's comic Alan's wit wants sport;<br>
+ And dark-eyed Bessie's quick retort<br>
+ Is spent on Nellie, mild and sweet;<br>
+ And dulness reigns along the street.<br>
+ The table's lessened numbers bring<br>
+ No warm discussion's changeful ring,<br>
+ Of hard-won goal, or slashing play,<br>
+ Or colours blue, or brown, or gray.<br>
+ The chairs stand round like rows of pins;<br>
+ No hoops entrap unwary shins;<br>
+ No marbles&mdash;boyhood's gems&mdash;roll loose;<br>
+ And stilts may rust for want of use;<br>
+ No book-bags lie upon the stairs;<br>
+ Nor nails inflict three-cornered tears.<br>
+ <a name="page118"><!-- Begin Page 118 --></a> Mamma may lay her
+needle down,<br>
+ And take her time to go up town;<br>
+ Albeit, returning she may miss<br>
+ The greeting smile and meeting kiss.<br>
+<br>
+ But hark! what message cleaves the air.<br>
+ From skies where roams the Greater Bear!<br>
+ "Safe, well, and happy, here are we,<br>
+ Wild as young colts and just as free!<br>
+ With plenteous hand and kindly heart,<br>
+ Our hosts fulfil a liberal part.<br>
+ Nor lack we food to suit the mind,<br>
+ Our alma-mater here we find,<br>
+ And in her agricultural school<br>
+ We learn to farm by modern rule;<br>
+ Professor Walter fills the chair,<br>
+ But teaches in the open air.<br>
+ And by his side we tend the stock,<br>
+ Or swing the scythe, or bind the shock.<br>
+ Nor miss we academic lore,<br>
+ We walk where Plato walked before,<br>
+ And eloquent Demosthenes,<br>
+ Who taught their youth beneath the trees;<br>
+ Here with sharp eyes we love to scan<br>
+ The rules that point Dame Nature's plan,<br>
+ We mark the track of bear and deer,<br>
+ And long to see them reft of fear.&mdash;<br>
+ Though well they shun our changeful moods,<br>
+ Taught by our rifle in the woods.<br>
+ Yet we may tell of mercy shown,<br>
+ Power unabused, the birdling flown,&mdash;<br>
+ When caught by thistly gossamer&mdash;<br>
+ Set free to wing the ambient air.<br>
+ Cautious we watch the gliding snake,<br>
+ 'Neath sheltering stone, or tangled brake,<br>
+ And list the chipmunk's merry trill<br>
+ Proclaim his wondrous climbing skill.<br>
+ <a name="page119"><!-- Begin Page 119 --></a> The bird; the beast;
+the insect; all<br>
+ In turn our various tastes enthrall;<br>
+ The fish; the rock; the tree; the flower;<br>
+ Yield to quick observation's power.<br>
+ And many a treasure swells our store<br>
+ Of joys for days when youth is o'er.<br>
+ Our glowing limbs we love to lave<br>
+ Beneath the lake's translucent wave,<br>
+ Or on its heaving bosom ride<br>
+ In merry boat; or skilful guide<br>
+ The light canoe, with balanced oar,<br>
+ To yonder islet's pebbly shore.<br>
+ Sometimes, with rod and line, we try<br>
+ The bass's appetite for fly;<br>
+ Well pleased if plunge or sudden dart<br>
+ Try all our piscatorial art;<br>
+ And shout with joy to see our catch<br>
+ Prove bigger than we thought our match.<br>
+ Oft when the ardent sun at noon<br>
+ Proclaims his power, we hide full soon<br>
+ Within the cool of shady grove,<br>
+ Or, gathering berries slowly rove<br>
+ And often when the sun goes down,<br>
+ We muse of home, and you in town;<br>
+ And had we but a carrier dove<br>
+ We'd send her home with loads of love."<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page120"><!-- Begin Page 120 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="joe">POOR JOE.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>He cannot dance, you say, nor sing,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Nor troll a lilting stave;<br>
+ And when the rest are cracking jokes<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; He's silent as the grave.<br>
+<br>
+ Poor Joe! I know he cannot sing&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; His voice is somewhat harsh:<br>
+ But he can whistle loud and clear<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; As plover in the marsh.<br>
+<br>
+ Nor does he dance, but he would walk<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Long miles to serve a friend,<br>
+ And though he cares not crack a joke,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; He will the truth defend.<br>
+<br>
+ And so, though he for company<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; May not be much inclined,<br>
+ I love poor Joe, and think his home<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Will be just to my mind.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page121"><!-- Begin Page 121 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h2><a name="fragments">FRAGMENTS.</a></h2>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>
+<h3>"I WISH YOU A HAPPY NEW YEAR."</h3>
+A happy year, sweet as the breath of flowers:<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A merry year, glad as the song of birds,<br>
+ A jocund year, gay as brown harvest hours;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A prosperous year, rich, as in flocks and herds.<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr>
+<h3>THE LIFE-BOAT MAN.</h3>
+When the loud minute gun alarms the night,<br>
+ And plunging waters hide the bark from sight,<br>
+ When lurid lightnings threat, and thunders roll.<br>
+ And roaring tempests daunt the trembling soul&mdash;<br>
+ 'Tis thine, O Life-boat Man, such fears to brave,<br>
+ And snatch the drowning from a watery grave.<br>
+
+<hr>
+<br>
+ "I am learning the stitch," the lover said<br>
+ As over her work he bent his head.<br>
+ But the scene spake plain to the mother's eye<br>
+ "I am watching these busy fingers ply."<br>
+ And ever anon when a stitch she'd miss,<br>
+ 'Twas because he bent lower her hand to kiss.<br>
+ Oh tender lover, and busy maid,<br>
+ May the sweet enchantment never fade;<br>
+ Nor the thread of life, though a stitch may miss,<br>
+ Know a break that may not be joined by a kiss.<br>
+
+<hr></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page122"><!-- Begin Page 122 --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2><a name="graduate">THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE.<br>
+ A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS.</a></h2>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>ACT I.</h3>
+<h4>SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>Scugog</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>The breakfast-room in the house of</i> BLOGGS, <i>a
+wealthy Scugog merchant.<br>
+ At the table</i>, KATE, <i>his daughter, reading a
+letter</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Kate</i> (<i>in much indignation</i>). Refused! I knew
+it!<br>
+ The crass ingratitude of haughty man,<br>
+ Vested in all the pride of place and power,<br>
+ Brooks not the aspirations of my sex,<br>
+ However just. Is't that he fears to yield,<br>
+ Lest from his laurelled brow the wreath should fall<br>
+ And light on ours? We may matriculate,<br>
+ And graduate&mdash;if we can, but he excludes<br>
+ Us from the beaten path he takes himself.<br>
+ The sun-lit heights of steep Parnassus<br>
+ Reach past the clouds, and we below must stay;<br>
+ Not that our alpen-stocks are weak, or that<br>
+ Our breath comes short, but that, forsooth, we wear<br>
+ The Petticoat. Out on such trash!</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MR. BLOGGS.</center>
+<p><i>Mr. Bloggs</i>. Why, what's the matter, Kate?</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Not much, papa, only I am refused<br>
+ Admission to the college. <i>Sapient</i> says<br>
+ The Council have considered my request,<br>
+ And find it inconsistent with the rules<br>
+ Of discipline and order to admit<br>
+ Women within their walls.</p>
+<a name="page123"><!-- Begin Page 123 --></a>
+<p><i>Mr. B</i>. I thought they'd say so. Now be satisfied;<br>
+ You've studied hard. Have made your mark upon<br>
+ The honour list. Have passed your second year.<br>
+ Let that suffice. You know enough to wed,<br>
+ And Gilmour there would give his very head<br>
+ To have you. Get married, Kate.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Papa, you vex me; Gilmour has no chance<br>
+ And that I'll let him know. Nor have I spent<br>
+ My youth in studious sort to give up now.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Bloggs</i>. What will you do? They will not let you
+in,<br>
+ For fear you'd turn the heads of all the boys.<br>
+ And quite right, too. I wouldn't have the care<br>
+ And worry of a lot of lively girls<br>
+ For all I'm worth.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>He kisses her</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. P'raps not, papa. But yet I mean to have<br>
+ The prize I emulate.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; If I
+obtain<br>
+ The honours hung so tantalizingly<br>
+ Before us by the University,<br>
+ Will you defray the cost, as hitherto<br>
+ You've done, like my own kind papa?</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She kisses him</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Bloggs</i>. I guess I'll have to: they won't send the
+bills to you.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Ah, dear papa! I'll make you proud of me<br>
+ As if I were a son.</p>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MRS. BLOGGS. <i>Exit</i> MR. BLOGGS.</center>
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloggs</i>. My dearest Kate,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; How
+very late<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; You
+keep the breakfast things!</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. My dear mamma,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I had
+papa<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; To
+tell of lots of things.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloggs</i>. Your secret, pray,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; If so
+I may<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Be let
+into it also.</p>
+<a name="page124"><!-- Begin Page 124 --></a>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Oh, it was just this letter, mamma, from Mr.
+Sapient, telling me that the Council won't let me go to University
+College to share the education that can only be had there at a
+reasonable cost, because the young men would be demoralized by my
+presence.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloggs</i>. Kate, I am astonished at you! Have I not
+always said that women do not need so much education as men, and
+ought to keep themselves <i>to</i> themselves, and not put
+themselves forward like impudent minxes? What'll men think of you
+if you go sittin' down on the same benches at the colleges, and
+studyin' off of the same desk, and, like enough&mdash;for there are
+girls bold enough for that&mdash;out of the same books? And what
+must the professors think women are comin' to when they want to
+learn mathyphysics and metamatics and classical history, and such
+stuff as unfits a woman for her place, and makes her as ignorant of
+household work, managin' servants, bringin' up children, and such
+like, as the greenhorns that some people take from the emigrant
+sheds, though I wouldn't be bothered with such ignoramuses,
+spoilin' the knives, and burnin' the bread, for anythin'?</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Now, mamma, you know we have gone all over this
+before, and shall never agree, because I think that the better
+educated a woman is, the better she can fulfil her home duties,
+especially in the care and management of the health of her family,
+and the proper training of her sons and daughters as good
+citizens.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloggs</i>. You put me out of all patience, Kate! For
+goodness' sake get married and be done with it. And that reminds me
+that Harry Gilmour wants you to go to the picnic with him on
+Dominion Day, and to the concert at the Gardens at night; and he
+said you had snubbed him so at Mrs. Gale's that he didn't like to
+speak about it to you without I thought he might. Now, that's what
+I call a real shame, the way you do treat that young man. A risin'
+young lawyer as he is, with no end of lots in Winnipeg, and all the
+money his father made for him up there; comes of a good old family,
+and has the best connections; as may be a member yet, perhaps
+senator some day, and you <a name="page125">
+<!-- Begin Page 125 --></a> treat him as if he was quite beneath
+you. I do hope you'll just show a little common sense and accept
+his invitations.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Well, mamma, I think the real shame, as you call
+it, is that you, and other ladies, will allow your daughters to go,
+about to picnics, parties, balls, theatres or anywhere else, with
+any man who happens to ask them, and without even so much as a
+girl-companion, and yet you see nothing but impropriety in my
+desire to attend college, where all the opportunity of associating
+with the other sex is limited to a few lectures delivered by grave
+and reverend Professors, under conditions of strict discipline, and
+at which the whole attention of the students must necessarily be
+concentrated on the subject. As for unlimited opportunities for
+flirting, there are none; and the necessities of college life
+compel each student to attend to his duties while within the halls,
+and then go home; wherever that may be.</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloggs</i>. It's no use talking, Kate, you won't alter
+my opinion. If they'd build another college specially for ladies,
+as I hear the Council is willin' to do, and put it under charge of
+a lady who would look after the girls, I wouldn't object so much,
+though, as I always say, I don't see the need of so much learnin'
+for women.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Well, mamma, how much would be gained by a separate
+building? The Council, it is true, offer a piece of ground, within
+a few minutes walk of the college, for a ladies' college, and
+promise to deliver lectures specially "altered to suit the female
+capacity." But if there was an intention of giddiness and
+flirtation on the part of the lady students, how much hindrance do
+you think the separate college would be? And if we can't understand
+the same lectures as our brothers, it is evident we can't
+understand the same books. Rather a hard nut to crack, isn't
+it?</p>
+<p><i>Mrs. Bloggs</i>. How rude you are, Kate! I am ashamed of
+you.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> MRS. BLOGGS <i>in a rage</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Poor mamma, she thinks her only child a very
+<i>enfant terrible</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page126"><!-- Begin Page 126 --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>SCENE 2.&mdash;<i>A lady's bedroom</i>.</h4>
+<center>KATE BLOGGS <i>and her cousin</i>, ORPHEA BLAGGS, <i>in
+conversation</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. What will you do, dear?</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. A deed without a name!<br>
+ A deed will waken me at dead of night!<br>
+ A deed whose stony face will stare at me<br>
+ With vile grimace, and freeze my curdling blood!<br>
+ Will make me quake before the eye of day;<br>
+ Shrink from the sun; and welcome fearsome night!<br>
+ A deed will chase my trembling steps by ways<br>
+ Unknown, through lonely streets, into dark haunts!&mdash;<br>
+ Will make me tremble if a child observes<br>
+ Me close; and quake, if, in a public crowd,<br>
+ One glances at me twice!<br>
+ A deed I'll blush for, yet I'll do't; and charge<br>
+ Its ugliness on those who forced me to't&mdash;<br>
+ In short, I'll wear the breeks.</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. Oh, Katie! You?</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Yes, me, dear coz.</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. But then your hair, and voice!</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. I'll train my voice to mouth out short, thick
+words,<br>
+ As Bosh! Trash! Fudge! Rot! And I'll cultivate<br>
+ An Abernethian, self-assertive style,<br>
+ That men may think there is a deal more in<br>
+ My solid head than e'er comes out.<br>
+ My hair I'll cut short off.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She looses down her abundant brown hair, and
+passes her hands through it caressingly</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">Ah, woman's simple pride! these
+tresses brown<br>
+ Must all be shorn. Like to Godiva fair,<br>
+ Whose heart, so true, forgot itself, to serve<br>
+ Her suffering kind; I, too, must make<br>
+ My hair an offering to my sex; a protest strong<br>
+ 'Gainst man's oppression.<br>
+ <a name="page127"><!-- Begin Page 127 --></a> Oh, wavy locks, that
+won my father's praise,<br>
+ I must be satisfied to cut ye off,<br>
+ And keep ye in a drawer 'till happier times,<br>
+ When I again may wear ye as a crown:<br>
+ Perchance a bang.</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. 'Twould, perhaps, be best to wear some as
+moustache.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. The very thing! then whiskers won't be missed.</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. But oh, your mannish garb! How dreadful,
+Kate!</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. True; but it must be done, and you must help.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exeunt</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>SCENE 3.&mdash;<i>The same room. Evening</i>.</h4>
+<center>KATE <i>alone</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Not let me in! We'll see. I'll beat 'em yet.<br>
+ To think that down in Canterbury, girls,<br>
+ Like my poor self, have had the badge bestowed<br>
+ That I so fondly covet. To think that they<br>
+ Enjoy the rights I ask, and have received<br>
+ The Cambridge University degree, B.A.<br>
+ Not only wear the gown and cap<br>
+ As college students, but the hood. The hood!<br>
+ And shall Macaulay's proud New Zealander<br>
+ Thus sit on me? Not if I know it. No!<br>
+ I'll don the dreadful clothes, and cheat the Dons.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She goes to the window</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">The blinds are down, the shutters
+closed, the slats<br>
+ As well, surely no one can see.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She takes up a man's coat and looks at it,
+then the vest, then the pants</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 12em;">I'll do't!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Invests herself in the masculine apparel. A
+knock at the door. She starts and turns pale</i>.</p>
+<p><i>A Voice</i>. Katie, dear!</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Pshaw! 'tis only Orphea!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She unlocks the door</i>.</p>
+<a name="page128"><!-- Begin Page 128 --></a>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">(<i>In masculine tones</i>.) Come in,
+dear coz.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Attempts to kiss her, but receives a slap in
+the face</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. How dare you, sir! Oh! let me out.</p>
+<p><i>Kate (in natural voice)</i>. Orphea, you goose!</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i> Oh, Kate, you did so scare me!</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. And is it then a good disguise?</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. 'Tis poor old Tom again.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. But how essay it in the street and hall?</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. Well, there's the gown to help. 'Twill cover
+all.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. And then the cap? But that I do not mind;<br>
+ My Derby hat has used me to a style<br>
+ A trifle jaunty, and a hard stiff crown;<br>
+ So if my hair prove not too trying<br>
+ I yet may like to wear the "mortar-board,"<br>
+ If still they wear such things.</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i>. Oh, Kate, it is an awful risk!</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Awful, my dear; but poor mamma<br>
+ Thinks I'm an awful girl.<br>
+ If she but knew&mdash;<br>
+ Yet might I plead that men and women oft<br>
+ Have done the same before; poor Joan of Arc;<br>
+ Portia; and Rosalind. And I have heard<br>
+ That once Achilles donned the woman's garb:<br>
+ Then why not I the student's cap and gown?</p>
+<a name="page129"><!-- Begin Page 129 --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>ACT II.</h3>
+<h4>SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>A bedroom in a Toronto boarding-house</i>.
+KATE BLOGGS <i>in bed</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter boarding-house mistress</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. Yes, nursey, I'll be quick, but mind your words<br>
+ And looks, and do not make mistakes.</p>
+<p><i>Nurse</i>. Oh no, Miss Kate&mdash;or Mr. Christopher,<br>
+ As that's the name you've chose, I'll not mistake.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>. And always mind and keep my room,<br>
+ My time and liberty, intact, and so<br>
+ You'll make it easier for me to obtain<br>
+ By surreptitious means, the rights I should<br>
+ Enjoy in happier sort.</p>
+<p><i>Nurse</i>. I'll do my best, Miss Kate.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> Nurse.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i> (<i>in masculine attire, about to descend to the
+breakfast table, turns once more to the mirror</i>). Oh,
+Harberton,<br>
+ Hadst thou but taught the world<br>
+ The beauty of thy new divided skirt<br>
+ Ere I was born, this had not now been thus.<br>
+ This blush, that burns my cheek, had long been past;<br>
+ These trembling limbs, that blench so from the light,<br>
+ Had gotten strength to bear me manfully.<br>
+ Oh for the mantling night, when city fathers<br>
+ save the gas, and Luna draws her veil!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>She sits down on a box</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 0em;">Away, weak tears!<br>
+ I must be brave and show myself a man,<br>
+ Nay, more, a student, rollicking and gay.<br>
+ Would I could feel so! (<i>Sniffs at the air</i>.) Somebody
+smokes,<br>
+ And before breakfast; pah, the nasty things!<br>
+ Would I could smoke! They say some women do;<br>
+ Drink toddy, too; and I do neither:<br>
+ That's not like a man; I'll have to learn.<br>
+ <a name="page130"><!-- Begin Page 130 --></a> But no! my soul
+revolts; I'll risk it.<br>
+ Surely there are among a studious band<br>
+ Some who love temperance and godly life.<br>
+ That's the crowd I'll join. They will not plunge into<br>
+ Those dreadful orgies that the <i>Globe</i> describes,<br>
+ Of men half-tight with lager and old rye,<br>
+ Who waylay freshmen and immerse them in<br>
+ The flowing wave of Taddle,<br>
+ <i>Horrors! Why, I shall be a freshman!</i><br>
+ If they touch me I'll scream! ah&mdash;ha, I'll scream!<br>
+ Scream, and betray my sex? No, that won't do;<br>
+ At Rome I'll have to be a Roman;<br>
+ And, to escape that dread ordeal, I<br>
+ Shall cringe and crawl, and in the presence of<br>
+ A fourth year man step soft and bow,<br>
+ And smile if he but condescend to nod.<br>
+ Oh, yes, I'll do't. In tableaux once I played<br>
+ Uriah Heep, and made the character<br>
+ So "'umble" and so crawly, that for days<br>
+ I loathed my hands, and slapped my fingers well<br>
+ For having knuckles.<br>
+ Thus will I to the tyrant play the slave.<br>
+ An old antithesis.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Some one calls at the door</i>.</p>
+<p style="text-indent: 12em;">Yes, yes, I'm coming, Hannah.<br>
+ Now for that dreaded step yclept the first,<br>
+ Pray Heaven it may cost most; but that I doubt.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Descends to the breakfast table</i>.</p>
+<a name="page131"><!-- Begin Page 131 --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>ACT III.</h3>
+<h4>SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>The same as Scene 2, Act I</i>.</h4>
+<center>MISS ORPHEA BLAGGS <i>solus, reading a letter</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Orphea (reading)</i>&mdash;</p>
+<p>"My Dearest Orphea&mdash;Congratulate me! me, your cousin, Tom
+Christopher, M.A., Gold Medallist.&mdash;Mathematics, and also
+Natural Sciences; Honours in Classics, and Prizeman in German
+again. You cannot think how queer I feel with all my blushing
+honours thick upon me, and more to come. Tuesday! my dear Orphea,
+Tuesday! Only think of it, Master of Arts, or more correctly
+Mistress of Arts! Now let the New Zealanders boast, and the
+Cambridge girls bite their tongues, Canada has caught them up! Ah,
+my dear Orphea, that is the drop of gall in the cup of your
+successful cousin&mdash;the Canterbury Antipodeans got their
+honours <i>first</i>. It reminds me of the saying that the nearer
+to church the farther from heaven, since it is evidently the nearer
+to the centre of civilization the farther from a University Degree,
+so far as we unfortunate women are concerned. But never mind! I've
+proved that Canadian girls are equal in mental power with Canadian
+boys, and I am only impatient to let the Dons know it.</p>
+<p>"And now, my love, for the conclusion of the two years' farce.
+It has cost me a whole week's sleep to sketch a plan by which to
+declare my sex in the most becoming manner to my fellow
+students.</p>
+<p>"Do you know, dear, when I look back upon the pleasures of the
+past two years&mdash;how soon we forget the pain!&mdash;I am not
+inclined to regret the step rendered necessary by my devotion to my
+sex, for use has made me quite at home in
+the&mdash;ah&mdash;divided skirt! How many lovely girls have I
+danced with through the rosy hours who will never more smile on me
+as they were wont to smile! How many flowers of rhetoric have been
+wasted on me by the irony of fate! How many <i>billets-doux</i>, so
+perfumed and <a name="page132"><!-- Begin Page 132 --></a> pretty,
+lie in my desk addressed to my nether garment! And how many mammas
+have encouraged Mr. Christopher, who will forever taboo Miss
+Bloggs! And then the parties and the picnics! Ah, my dear Orphea,
+what do I not sacrifice on the altar of my sex. But a truce to
+regrets.</p>
+<p>"I am longing to see the elegant costume in which I shall appear
+before the astonished eyes of the multitude as Miss Bloggs,
+M.A.</p>
+<p>"You know my style, the latest out, which I find by the fashion
+books is Mignonette trimmed with Chinese Pheasant. Buttons up the
+back of the sleeves, with rubies and amethysts. Let the fichu be
+Eidelweiss; trim the fan and slippers with the same, and use
+dandelions and calla lilies for the bouquets. Not a button less
+than forty on the gloves, and don't forget my hair.</p>
+<p>"Get yourself up to match by contrast, and come and help me make
+a sensation.</p>
+<p>"The dinner is on the <i>tapis</i>. Webb will be caterer, Sells
+will supply the cider; Shapter and Jeffery the Zoedone, and I have
+entered into a contract with the Toronto Water Works for pure water
+on this occasion only. I have bought up every flower in Toronto, so
+that if the tariff does not prevent it, other folks will have to
+import their own roses; and I have engaged every boy in the public
+schools who has nothing better to do next Saturday to go to Lome
+Park and bring back as many maiden-hairs as he can find. Ferns are
+my craze, as you know, and I am quite a crank on maiden-hair, which
+I mean to adopt for my crest with "If she will, she will," as a
+motto. Ever your own,</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">"KATE."</p>
+<p>A merry letter truly.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+I'll to the dressmaker.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page133"><!-- Begin Page 133 --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3>ACT IV.</h3>
+<h4 class="scene">SCENE 1.&mdash;<i>A boarding-house dining-room
+richly decorated with flowers and plants. Twenty gentlemen, among
+whom is</i> Mr. Tom Christopher, <i>each accompanying a lady, one
+of whom is</i> Miss Blaggs. <i>The cloth is drawn, and dessert is
+on the table</i>.</h4>
+<p><i>Mr. Biggs, B.A. (Tor. Univer.), on his feet</i>.</p>
+<p style="margin-left: 2em;">Ah&mdash;ladies and gentlemen, here's
+to our host,<br>
+ And rising, as thus, to propose him a toast,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; I think of the days which together<br>
+ In shade, and in sunshine, as chums we have passed,<br>
+ In love, and esteem, that forever must last,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Let happen what will to the weather.</p>
+<p>In short, ladies and gentlemen, I have to propose the
+everlasting health and welfare of our host, who should have been
+our honoured guest but for that persistent pertinacity he exhibited
+in the matter, and which he does himself the injustice to call
+womanish. But I am sure, ladies and gentlemen, no one but himself
+ever accused our esteemed host of being womanish, and when we look
+upon the high standing he has achieved in our University, the
+honour he confers on his Alma Mater by his scholarly attainments
+and the gentlemanly character he has won among all sorts of
+students, I am sure, ladies and gentlemen, we should be doing great
+injustice to you all were we for one moment to admit that he could
+be other than he is, an honour to Toronto University, and a credit
+to his sex. I am quite sure the ladies are at this moment envying
+the happy woman whom he will at no distant date probably
+distinguish with his regard, and it must be satisfactory to
+ourselves, gentlemen, to know that it lies in our power, as the
+incumbents of academic honours, to be able to bestow that reversion
+of them on those who, having all the world at their feet, need not
+sigh for the fugitive conquests that demand unceasing toil and an
+unlimited amount of gas or coal-oil. Ladies and gentlemen, I call
+<a name="page134"><!-- Begin Page 134 --></a> upon you to fill your
+sparkling glasses to the honour of our host and college chum, Mr.
+Tom Christopher. And here's with a hip, hip, hooray! and hands all
+round!</p>
+<p><i>All</i>.&mdash;Hip, hip! Hurrah!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Tremendous cheering and clinking of glasses.
+Several are broken, and the excitement consequently
+subsides</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Tom Christopher</i>.&mdash;Ladies and gentlemen, I thank
+you much.<br>
+ For these your loving words. A third year man,<br>
+ I came upon you fresh from nowhere;<br>
+ This in itself a warranty for cold<br>
+ And hard suspicion; but you received<br>
+ Me with some warmth, and made me one of you,<br>
+ Chaffed me, and sat on me, and lent me books.<br>
+ And offered pipes, and made inquiries kind<br>
+ About my sisters; and Time, who takes<br>
+ Men kindly by the hand, made us warm friends,<br>
+ And knit us in a love all brotherly.</p>
+<p><i>Many Voices</i>.&mdash;Yes, brothers! brothers! we are
+brothers all!</p>
+<p><i>A Voice</i>.&mdash;And sisters!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Tom</i>.&mdash;I would say sisters too, but that I
+fear<br>
+ My lady guests would think I did presume;<br>
+ But yet I know, and knowing it am proud,<br>
+ That most men here to-night would welcome all<br>
+ The sweet girl-graduates that would fill the list<br>
+ Did but the College Council set aside<br>
+ A foolish prejudice, and let them in.<br>
+ And now, I know a girl who long has worked<br>
+ To pass the exams, take the proud degree<br>
+ I hold to-day, and yet her petticoat<br>
+ Forbade.</p>
+<p><i>Several Voices</i>.&mdash;Name! Name! A toast! A toast!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Tom</i>.&mdash;I will not name her, gentlemen, but
+bring<br>
+ Her to your presence, if you so incline;<br>
+ First begging that you will not let surprise<br>
+ Oust self-possession, for my friend's a girl<br>
+ <a name="page135"><!-- Begin Page 135 --></a> Of timid temper,
+though she's bold to act<br>
+ If duty calls.</p>
+<p><i>Many Voices</i>.&mdash;Your friend! Your friend!</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Tom</i>.&mdash;I go to fetch her, gentlemen; dear ladies
+all,<br>
+ I beg your suffrages of gentle eyes<br>
+ And kindly smile to greet my guest.</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Exit</i> MR. TOM CHRISTOPHER.</p>
+<hr>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h4>SCENE 2.&mdash;<i>The same</i>.</h4>
+<center><i>Enter</i> MISS KATE BLOGGS <i>in full dinner toilet of
+Reseda silk, and carrying a<br>
+ dandelion and lily bouquet</i>.</center>
+<p><i>Miss Blaggs</i>.&mdash;My cousin! oh, my cousin!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>Rushes excitedly forward and falls into
+hysterics on</i> Miss BLOGGS' <i>neck. The company gather round in
+great surprise</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Miss B</i>.&mdash;Dear Orphea! Orphea, my dear! oh, water,
+gentlemen!<br>
+ Lay her upon the couch. See! see! she gasps!<br>
+ Orphea, dear girl!</p>
+<p class="stage">[<i>The ladies are much alarmed, but Miss BLAGGS
+soon gives signs of recovery, and sits up</i>.</p>
+<p><i>Orphea</i> (<i>in tears)</i>.&mdash;Oh, Kate! it struck me so
+to see you once again as you were wont to be; those nasty ugly
+pants forever gone, and you a girl again.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>.&mdash;Dear friends, you look surprised.<br>
+ Pray Heaven you'll not look worse when you know all.<br>
+ I am indeed a girl, though you have known<br>
+ Me hitherto as Thomas Christopher.<br>
+ Four years ago I passed the exams, for<br>
+ Us women, at your University.<br>
+ Once more I passed. But when again I would,<br>
+ I stumbled for the teaching that is chained&mdash;<br>
+ Like ancient scripture to the reading desk&mdash;<br>
+ Within your College walls. No word of mine<br>
+ Could move the flinty heads of College Council.<br>
+ <a name="page136"><!-- Begin Page 136 --></a> Order and discipline
+forbade, they said,<br>
+ That women should sit-side by side with men<br>
+ Within their walls. At church, or concert, or<br>
+ At theatre, or ball, no separation's made<br>
+ Of sexes. And so I, being a girl<br>
+ Of firm and independent mind, resolved<br>
+ To do as many a one beside has done<br>
+ For lesser prize, and, as a man, sat at<br>
+ The feet of our Gamaliels until I got<br>
+ The learning that I love. That I may now<br>
+ Look you all in the face without a blush, save&mdash;that<br>
+ Which naturally comes at having thus<br>
+ To avow my hardihood, is praise, I trow,<br>
+ You will not think unworthy; and to me<br>
+ It forms a soft remembrance that will ever dwell<br>
+ Within my grateful heart.<br>
+ Can you forgive me?</p>
+<p><i>Many Voices</i>.&mdash;We do, we must. All honour to the
+brave!<br>
+ Speak for us, Biggs.</p>
+<p><i>Mr. Biggs</i>.&mdash;I cannot speak, except to ask the lady's
+pardon<br>
+ For our rough ways.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>.&mdash;No; pardon me.</p>
+<p><i>Many Voices</i>.&mdash;No! no! we ask your pardon.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>.&mdash;If that, indeed, as I must need believe<br>
+ From all your looks, you do not blame me much,<br>
+ Endue me with a favour. It is this:&mdash;<br>
+ Let every man and woman here to-night<br>
+ Look out for those petitions that will soon<br>
+ Be placed in many a store by those our friends<br>
+ Who in this city form a ladies' club,<br>
+ And each one sign. Nay more, to show you mean<br>
+ What I, with swelling heart have often heard<br>
+ You strongly urge, the rights of women to<br>
+ The College privileges, get all your friends<br>
+ To sign. Do what your judgment charges you<br>
+ To help so good a cause, and let the lists<br>
+ Of 1883 have no more names<br>
+ <a name="page137"><!-- Begin Page 137 --></a> Set by themselves as
+women. Let us go<br>
+ In numbrous strength before the Parliament,<br>
+ And ask our rights in such a stirring sort,<br>
+ They shall be yielded. Then I shall know<br>
+ Your brotherly and pleasant words mean faith,<br>
+ And shall no more regret a daring act<br>
+ That else will fail of reason.<br>
+ May I thus trust?</p>
+<p><i>All</i>.&mdash;You may! You may.</p>
+<p><i>Kate</i>.&mdash;Then hands all round, my friends, till break
+of day.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page138"><!-- Begin Page 138 --></a> <a name="page139">
+<!-- Begin Page 139 --></a>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h2><a name="fables">FABLES:<br>
+ ORIGINAL AND FROM THE FRENCH.</a></h2>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<a name="page140"><!-- Begin Page 140 --></a> <a name="page141">
+<!-- Begin Page 141 --></a>
+<h3><a name="fables1">THE CHOICE.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>As fragrant essences from summer flowers,<br>
+ Steal, on a&euml;rial pinions, to the sense,<br>
+ So, on the viewless wing of rumour, sped<br>
+ A word that set the aviary on flame.<br>
+ "To-morrow comes the Prince," it said, "to choose<br>
+ A bird of gifts will grace the royal bower."<br>
+ O then began a fluttering and a fume&mdash;<br>
+ A judging each of all! Pert airs and speech<br>
+ Flew thick as moulted feathers. Little heads<br>
+ Were tossed in lofty pride, or in disdain<br>
+ Were turned aside. For each bird deemed his own<br>
+ The merits that would charm. One only sang<br>
+ To-day his daily song, nor joined the crowd<br>
+ In envious exultation. To him spoke<br>
+ Another of his kind. "Vain one, refrain<br>
+ That everlasting pipe, fit for a cage<br>
+ Behind some cotter's lattice, where thy gray<br>
+ And thickset form may shun the cultured eye.<br>
+ A word of warning, too&mdash;hide from the Prince."<br>
+ "Dear brother," cried the gray, "be not annoyed;<br>
+ Who sees your elegance of form, and depth<br>
+ Of perfect colour, ne'er will notice me."<br>
+ The morrow came,&mdash;the Prince. Each bird essayed<br>
+ To please the royal taste, and many a meed<br>
+ Of praise was won and given&mdash;this for his hue;&mdash;<br>
+ That for his elegance;&mdash;another for<br>
+ <a name="page142"><!-- Begin Page 142 --></a> His fascinating
+grace. Yet something lacked,<br>
+ 'Twas evident, and many an anxious glance<br>
+ Betrayed the latent fear.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "Yon
+little bird<br>
+ In quiet gray and green courts not my praise,<br>
+ Yet should a singer be," exclaimed the Prince,<br>
+ As with a critical and searching eye<br>
+ He scanned the small competitors for choice.<br>
+ Obedient to his governor, the bird<br>
+ Poured forth his song, oblivious of the crowd<br>
+ Of vain and envious round him, in whose eyes<br>
+ He stood contemptible. The Prince, entranced,<br>
+ Broke forth at length: "Nor hue, nor elegance,<br>
+ Nor fascination, can outvie the gift<br>
+ Of genius. My choice is made."<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And to
+the great offence<br>
+ Of one bright bird, at least, the humble gray<br>
+ Became the royal treasure.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page143"><!-- Begin Page 143 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables2">INSINCERITY.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Tired of the narrow limits her assigned,<br>
+ Truth fled the earth; and men were fain to grope<br>
+ In utter darkness. Blindly they blundered,<br>
+ And were long distraught, till on the horizon rose<br>
+ A luminosity, and in its midst<br>
+ A form. They cried, "'Tis Truth! fair Truth returned!'<br>
+ And though the light seemed dim, the form but faint<br>
+ To that of other days, they worshipped it,<br>
+ And all things went along much as at first.<br>
+ Until, born none knew whence, a doubt arose;<br>
+ Grew strong; and spake; and pondering, men began<br>
+ To quest their goddess' claim. Then, too, was set<br>
+ A secret watch, a covert test for proof;<br>
+ And one fine day there rose a clamour, such<br>
+ As cheated mobs will make, when cunning puts<br>
+ A veto on their claim.<br>
+ For this mob found that, in her stolen guise<br>
+ Of softer beams, they had adored a cheat;<br>
+ A make-believe; a lie.<br>
+ Immense their rage! One aim inspired them all&mdash;<br>
+ To punish. But while they swayed and tossed<br>
+ In wrathful argument on just desert,<br>
+ Fair Truth indeed appeared, clad in her robes<br>
+ Of glorious majesty. "Desist, my friends,"<br>
+ She cried; "the executioner condign<br>
+ Of Insincerity, and your avenger,<br>
+ Is Time, my faithful henchman."<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page144"><!-- Begin Page 144 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables3">THE TWO TREES.<br>
+ FROM THE FRENCH OF P. LE MAY.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Two trees, amid whose leafy shade<br>
+ The warbling birds their vigils paid,<br>
+ Stood neighbours&mdash;each as noble tree<br>
+ In height and girth as one might see.<br>
+ The one, sequestered in the vale,<br>
+ All sheltered from the boisterous gale,<br>
+ Had passed his days in soft repose;<br>
+ The other from the cliff arose,<br>
+ And bore the brunt of stormy wind<br>
+ That lashed him oft in frenzy blind.<br>
+<br>
+ A day there happed when from the north<br>
+ Aquilon drave his forces forth,<br>
+ And hurled them headlong on the rock<br>
+ Where, proudly poised to meet the shock,<br>
+ Our bold tree stood. In gallant might,<br>
+ He took the gage of proffered fight,<br>
+ And though in every fibre wrung,<br>
+ Kept every fibre still upstrung.<br>
+<br>
+ "Thou tremblest!" cried the sheltered tree,<br>
+ "Thine own the folly! Come to me.<br>
+ Here no wild tempest rocks our boughs&mdash;<br>
+ Scarce may it bend our haughty brows&mdash;<br>
+ Scarce may a breeze our branches kiss&mdash;<br>
+ From every harm a shelter this."<br>
+ <a name="page145"><!-- Begin Page 145 --></a><br>
+ No word replied the storm-tried tree,<br>
+ But, wrestling for the mastery,<br>
+ He bowed and straightened, writhed and shook,<br>
+ And firmer of the rock he took<br>
+ A tightening clutch with grip of steel,<br>
+ Nor once the storm-fiend made him reel;<br>
+ And when his weary foe passed by,<br>
+ Still towered he proudly to the sky.<br>
+<br>
+ Then through the vale the wing&egrave;d blast<br>
+ For the first time in fury passed,<br>
+ As through ripe grain the sickles go,<br>
+ Widespread he scattered fear and woe;<br>
+ Prone fell the tree&mdash;so safe before&mdash;<br>
+ 'Mid ruin dire, to rise no more.<br>
+<br>
+ He cannot fall who knows to fight<br>
+ With stern adversity aright.<br>
+ But soon is laid the victim low,<br>
+ That knows not how to ward a blow.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page146"><!-- Begin Page 146 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables4">FABLE AND TRUTH.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Simply attired in Nature's strictest garb,<br>
+ Fair Truth emerged from out her sheltering well;<br>
+ But Time so many of her charms had touched<br>
+ That age and youth before her presence fled:<br>
+ And no asylum showed an open door<br>
+ Of welcome to the waif of shivering limb.<br>
+ Sudden upon her sight a vision breaks&mdash;<br>
+ Gay Fable richly robed, and pranked withal<br>
+ In plumes and jewels&mdash;mostly false 'tis true,<br>
+ But bright enough. "Ah, is it you, my friend?<br>
+ How do?" quo' she, "but why upon the road.<br>
+ "And all alone?"<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "You
+see I freeze," says Truth,<br>
+ "And yet of those who pass I but implore<br>
+ A simple shelter, but I frighten them.<br>
+ Alas! I see an aged woman gains<br>
+ But small consideration!"<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+"Younger than I,"<br>
+ Saith Fable, "are you? Yet I may aver,<br>
+ Without conceit, that everywhere<br>
+ I am received with joy. But Mistress Truth,<br>
+ Why did you brave the light in such scant robe?<br>
+ 'Twas most ill-judged. Come, let's arrange for both,<br>
+ Since the same end is aim for me as you;<br>
+ Get 'neath my cloak, and we'll together walk.<br>
+ Thus, for your sake, I shall not by the wise<br>
+ Be buffeted; and for my sake, you shall<br>
+ Be well received among the simpler sort.<br>
+ Thus every one his proper taste may suit,<br>
+ And by these means each shall her end attain,<br>
+ Thanks to your sense, and my amusing speech.<br>
+ And you will see, my sister, everywhere<br>
+ We shall be well received, in company."
+&mdash;<i>Florian</i>.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page147"><!-- Begin Page 147 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables5">THE CALIPH.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>In ancient days the Caliph Almamon<br>
+ A palace built in Bagdad, fairer far<br>
+ Than was the vaunted house of Solomon.<br>
+ The portico a hundred columns graced<br>
+ Of purest alabaster. Gold and blue<br>
+ And jasper formed the rich mosaic floor.<br>
+ Ceiled with the fragrant cedar, suites of rooms<br>
+ Displayed a wealth of sculpture; treasures rare<br>
+ In art and nature vied; fair flowers and gems,<br>
+ Perfumes and scented myrtles; verdure soft<br>
+ And piercing lustre; past the embroidered couch<br>
+ The gushing fountains rolled on dancing wave.<br>
+ And beauty reigned o'er all.<br>
+ Near this abode, but just beyond the gate,<br>
+ A simple cottage stood, old and dilapidate,<br>
+ The home of a poor weaver. There, content<br>
+ With little gain procured by labour long,<br>
+ Without a debt and thus beyond a care,<br>
+ The old man lived, forgotten perhaps, but free.<br>
+ His days all peaceful softly wore away<br>
+ And he nor envied was, nor envying.<br>
+ As hath been told, his small and mean retreat,<br>
+ Just masked the palace gates. The Grand Vizier<br>
+ Would pull it down, without formality<br>
+ Of law, or word of grace. More just his lord<br>
+ Commands to buy it first. To hear is to obey;<br>
+ They seek the weaver's bearing bags of gold;<br>
+ "These shalt thou have."<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "No;
+keep your lordly sum,<br>
+ My workshop yields my needs," responds the man,<br>
+ "And for my house, I have no wish to sell;<br>
+ Here was I born, and here my father died:<br>
+ <a name="page148"><!-- Begin Page 148 --></a> And here would I die
+too. The Caliph may,<br>
+ Should he so will, force me to leave the place<br>
+ And pull my cottage down, but should he so<br>
+ Each day would find me seated on the stone<br>
+ The last that's left, weeping my misery.<br>
+ I know Almamon's heart; 'twill pity me."<br>
+ This bold reply the Vizier's choler raised;<br>
+ He would the rascal punish, and at once<br>
+ Pull down the sorry hut. Not so the Caliph:<br>
+ "No; while it stands my glory lives," saith he,<br>
+ "My treasure shall be taxed to make it whole;<br>
+ And of my reign it shall be monument;<br>
+ For when my heirs shall this fair palace mark<br>
+ They shall exclaim 'How great was Almamon!'<br>
+ And when yon cottage 'Almamon was just!'"
+&mdash;<i>Florian</i>.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page149"><!-- Begin Page 149 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables6">THE BLIND MAN AND THE PARALYTIC.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Kindly let us help each other,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Lighter will our burden lie,<br>
+ For the good we do our brother<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Is a solace pure and high,&mdash;<br>
+ So Confucius to his people,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To his friends, the wise Chinese,<br>
+ Oft affirmed, and to persuade them,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Told them stories such as these:&mdash;<br>
+<br>
+ In an Asiatic city<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Dwelt two miserable men,&mdash;<br>
+ Misery knows nor clime nor country,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Haunts alike the dome or den&mdash;<br>
+ Blind the one, the other palsied,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Each so poor he prayed for death;<br>
+ Yet he lived, his invocations<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Seeming naught but wasted breath.<br>
+ On his wretched mattress lying,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In the busy public square,<br>
+ See the wasted paralytic<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Suffering more that none doth care.<br>
+<br>
+ Butt for everybody's humour,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Gropes the blind his devious way,<br>
+ Guide, nor staff, nor helper has he,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To supply the light's lost ray;<br>
+ E'en a poor dog's willing service,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Love, and guidance are denied;<br>
+ Till one day his groping finds him<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; By the paralytic's side.<br>
+ There he hears the sufferer's moaning,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And his very soul is moved.<br>
+ He's the truest sympathizer<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Who, like sorrow, erst has proved.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page150"><!-- Begin Page 150 --></a> "I have, sorrows,
+thou hast others,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Brother, let us join our woes,<br>
+ And their rigours will be softened,"<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Thus the blind began propose.<br>
+ "Ah, my friend, thou little knowest<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That a step I cannot take;<br>
+ Thou art blind; what should we gain then<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of two burdens one to make?"<br>
+ "Why, now, brother, see how lucky,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; 'Twixt us both is all we lack:<br>
+ Thou hast eyes, be thou the guide then,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Thee I'll carry on my back;<br>
+ Thus without unfriendly question<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; As to which bears heaviest load,<br>
+ I will walk for thee, and thou, friend,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Choose for me the smoothest road."
+&mdash;<i>Florian</i>.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page151"><!-- Begin Page 151 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables7">DEATH.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>On a set day, fell Death, queen of the world,&mdash;<br>
+ In hell assembled all her fearful court<br>
+ That 'mongst them she might choose a minister<br>
+ Would render her estate more flourishing.<br>
+ As candidates for the dread office came,<br>
+ With measured strides, from Tartarus' lowest depth,<br>
+ Fever, and Gout, and War&mdash;a trio<br>
+ To whose gifts all earth and hell bare witness&mdash;<br>
+ The queen reception gave them.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Then
+came Plague,<br>
+ And none his claims and merit might deny.<br>
+ Still, when a doctor paid his visit, too,<br>
+ Opinion wavered which would win the day.<br>
+ Nor could Queen Death herself at once decide.<br>
+ But when the Vices came her choice fell quick&mdash;<br>
+ She chose Excess. &mdash;<i>Florian</i>.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page152"><!-- Begin Page 152 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables8">THE HOUSE OF CARDS.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>How softly glide Philemon's happy days<br>
+ Within the cot where once his father dwelt<br>
+ Peaceful as he!<br>
+ Here with his gentle wife and sturdy boys,<br>
+ In rural quietude, he tills his farm;<br>
+ Gathers his harvest, or his garden tends.<br>
+ Here sweet domestic joys together shared<br>
+ Crown every evening, whether 'neath the trees<br>
+ The smiling summer draws the table forth:<br>
+ Or round the cosy hearth the winter cold<br>
+ With crackling faggot blazing makes their cheer.<br>
+ Here do the careful parents ever give<br>
+ Counsels of virtuous knowledge to their sons.<br>
+ The father with a story points his speech,<br>
+ The mother with a kiss.<br>
+ Of different tastes, the boys: the elder one,<br>
+ Grave, studious, reads and thinks the livelong day;<br>
+ The younger, sprightly, gay, and graceful, too,<br>
+ Leaps, laughs incessant, and in games delights.<br>
+ One evening, as their wont, at father's side,<br>
+ And near a table where their mother sewed,<br>
+ The elder Rollin read. The younger played:<br>
+ Small care had he for Rome's ambitious deeds,<br>
+ Or Parthian prowess; his whole mind was set<br>
+ To build a house of cards, his wit sharp-drawn<br>
+ To fit the corners neatly. He, nor speaks,<br>
+ Nor scarce may breathe, so great his anxious care.<br>
+ But suddenly the reader's voice is heard<br>
+ Self-interrupting: "Papa, pray tell me why<br>
+ Some warriors are called Conquerors, and some<br>
+ The Founders, of an Empire? What doth make<br>
+ The points of difference in the simple terms?"<br>
+ <a name="page153"><!-- Begin Page 153 --></a> In careful thought
+the father sought reply:<br>
+ When, radiant with delight, his younger son,<br>
+ After so much endeavour, having placed<br>
+ His second stage, cries out, "Tis done!" But he,<br>
+ The elder, harshly chides his brother's glee,<br>
+ Strikes the frail tenement, and so destroys<br>
+ The fruits of patient toil: The younger weeps:<br>
+ And then the father thus: "Oh, my dear son,<br>
+ Thy brother is the Founder of a realm,<br>
+ Thou the fell Conqueror." &mdash;<i>Florian</i>.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page154"><!-- Begin Page 154 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables9">THE BULLFINCH AND THE RAVEN.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>In separate cages hung, the same kind roof<br>
+ Sheltered a bullfinch and a raven bold,<br>
+ The one with song mellifluous charmed the house;<br>
+ The other's cries incessant wearied all.<br>
+ With loud hoarse voice he screamed for bread and meat<br>
+ And cheese; the which they quickly brought, in hope<br>
+ To stop thereby his brawling tongue.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The
+finch<br>
+ Did nought but sing, and never bawled and begged;<br>
+ So they forgot him. Oft the pretty bird<br>
+ Nor food nor water had, and they who praised<br>
+ His song the loudest took the smallest care<br>
+ To fill his fount. And yet they loved him well,<br>
+ But thought not on his needs.<br>
+ One day they found him dead within his cage,<br>
+ "Ah, horror! and he sang so well!" they cry,<br>
+ "What can it be he died of? 'Tis, indeed<br>
+ A dreadful pity."<br>
+ The raven still screamed on, and nothing lacked.
+&mdash;<i>Florian</i>.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page155"><!-- Begin Page 155 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="fables10">THE WASP AND THE BEE.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Within the chalice of a flower<br>
+ A bee "improved the shining hour,"<br>
+ Whom, when she saw, a wasp draw near,<br>
+ And sought to gain the fair one's ear,<br>
+ With tender praise: "Oh, sister mine&mdash;<br>
+ (For love and trust that name entwine)"<br>
+ But ill it pleased the haughty bee,<br>
+ Who answered proudly: "Sisters!&mdash;we?<br>
+ Since when, I pray you, dates the tie?"<br>
+ With angry warmth the wasp's reply<br>
+ Came fuming forth&mdash;"Life-long, indeed.<br>
+ In semblant points all eyes may read<br>
+ The fact. Observe me if you please.<br>
+ Your wings, are they not such as these?<br>
+ Mine is your figure, mine your waist,<br>
+ And if you used with proper taste<br>
+ Your sting, as I do, we agree<br>
+ In that."<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; "'Tis
+true," replies the bee,<br>
+ "Each bears a weapon; in its use<br>
+ The difference lies. For fierce abuse,<br>
+ And insolence your dart doth serve.<br>
+ Mine gives the chastisement that these deserve,<br>
+ And while you irritate your dearest friend;<br>
+ I take good heed myself, but to defend."
+&mdash;<i>Florian</i>.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page156"><!-- Begin Page 156 --></a> <a name="page157">
+<!-- Begin Page 157 --></a> <a name="page158">
+<!-- Begin Page 158 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h2><a name="translations">TRANSLATIONS</a></h2>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <a name="page159"><!-- Begin Page 159 --></a>
+<h3><a name="trans1">A MEMORY OF THE HEROES OF 1760.
+<br>FROM THE FRENCH OF P. LE MAY.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>O ye who tread with heedless feet<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; This dust once laid with heroes' blood,<br>
+ A moment turn your backward glance<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To years of dread inquietude:<br>
+ When wars disturbed our peaceful fields;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; When mothers drew a sobbing breath;<br>
+ When the great river's hilly marge<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Resounded with a cry of death.<br>
+<br>
+ Then, full of fire, the heroes sprang<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To save our heritage and laws.<br>
+ They conquered! 'twas a holiday.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Alas, the last in such a cause!<br>
+ Bloody and shamed, the flag of France<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Perforce recrossed the widening seas;<br>
+ The sad Canadian mourned his hopes,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And cherished bitter memories.<br>
+<br>
+ But noble he despite his woe!<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Before his lords he proudly bends,<br>
+ Like some tall oak that storms may shake,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And bow, but never, never rend.<br>
+ And oft he dreams a happy dream,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And sees a flag, with lilies sown,<br>
+ Come back whence comes the rising Sun,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To float o'er landscapes all his own.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page160"><!-- Begin Page 160 --></a> Oh when the south
+wind on its wings<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Bears to his ear strange sounds afar,<br>
+ To him they seem the solemn chant<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of triumph after clam'rous war.<br>
+ Those echoes weird of gallant strife<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; E'en stir the coffined warrior-dead,<br>
+ As stirs a nation's inmost heart<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; At some proud pageant nobly led.<br>
+<br>
+ O France, once more 'neath Western skies,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; We see thy standards proudly wave!<br>
+ And Mexico's high ramparts fall<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Before thy squadrons, true and brave.<br>
+ Peace shalt thou to the land restore;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For fetters shalt give back the crown;<br>
+ And with thy shining sword shalt hurl<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The base usurper from the throne.<br>
+<br>
+ Hear ye, how in their ancient urns<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The ashes of our heroes wake?<br>
+ Thus greet they ye, fair sons of morn,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For this their solemn silence break.<br>
+ They greet ye, whose renown hath reached<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Past star on star to highest heaven!<br>
+ Ye on whose brow their halo sits,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To ye their altar shall be given!<br>
+<br>
+ Arise, immortal phalanxes,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Who fell upon a glorious day!<br>
+ Your century of mourning weeds<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Posterity would take away.<br>
+ Arise and see! our woods and fields<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; No longer nourish enemies!<br>
+ Whom once ye fought are brothers now,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; One law around us throws its ties.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page161"><!-- Begin Page 161 --></a> And who shall dare
+our homesteads touch,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; That for our heritage ye gave:&mdash;<br>
+ And who shall drive us from the shores<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; To which your blood the verdure gave?&mdash;<br>
+ E'en they shall find the oppressed will rise<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; More powerful for the foe withstood;<br>
+ And ever for such heinous crime<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Shall pay the forfeit with their blood.<br>
+<br>
+ Ye, our defenders in the past,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Your names are still a household word!<br>
+ In childhood's ear old age recounts<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The toils your hardy youth endured.<br>
+ And on the field of victory<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Hath gratitude your memory graved!<br>
+ In during brass your story lives<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A glory to the centuries saved!<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page162"><!-- Begin Page 162 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="trans2">THE SONG OF THE CANADIAN VOLTIGEURS.
+<br>FROM THE FRENCH OF P. LE MAY.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Our country insulted<br>
+ Demands quick redress.<br>
+ To arms, Voltigeurs!<br>
+ To the struggle we press.<br>
+ From vict'ry to vict'ry,<br>
+ Brave, righteous, and just,<br>
+ Ours the mem'ries that cling to<br>
+ Our forefathers' dust.<br>
+<br>
+ Defend we our farm-lands,<br>
+ Our half-crumbled walls!<br>
+ Defend we our sweethearts,<br>
+ Our hearths and our halls!<br>
+ Our dear native tongue,<br>
+ Our faith keep we free!<br>
+ Defend we our life,<br>
+ For a people are we!<br>
+<br>
+ No rulers know we, save<br>
+ Our time-honoured laws!<br>
+ And woe to the nation<br>
+ That sneers at our cause.<br>
+ Our fields and our furrows,<br>
+ Our woods and our streams,<br>
+ Should their columns invade,<br>
+ Shall entomb their vain dreams!<br>
+<br>
+ To our foes, the perfidious,<br>
+ Be war to the knife.<br>
+ Intrepid, yet duteous,<br>
+ We leap to the strife.<br>
+ <a name="page163"><!-- Begin Page 163 --></a> More terrible
+shewing<br>
+ In danger's red hour;<br>
+ We know to avenge,<br>
+ And unbroken our power.<br>
+<br>
+ List the thunderous roar<br>
+ As the shot rushes by!<br>
+ To our war-song heroic,<br>
+ The chorus of joy.<br>
+ At the ring of the musket<br>
+ To the battle we fly;<br>
+ Come! come to the field,<br>
+ See us conquer or die.<br>
+<br>
+ What! we become slaves<br>
+ To an alien foe?<br>
+ We bear their vile trammels?<br>
+ Our answer is, No!<br>
+ Assistance shall reach us<br>
+ From heaven's lucent arch:<br>
+ Come! seize we our muskets<br>
+ And "double-quick march!"<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page164"><!-- Begin Page 164 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="trans3">THE LEGEND OF THE EARTH.
+<br>FROM THE FRENCH OF JEAN RAMEAU.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<center>[The Prize Poem in the Christmas (1885) Number of the Paris
+<i>Figaro</i>, translated for the <i>Week</i>.]</center>
+<br>
+
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>When the Creator had laid out the deeps,<br>
+ The great illimitable fields of sad-eyed space,<br>
+ A weighty bag upon His neck He threw,<br>
+ Whence issued sound confused of huddled stars;<br>
+<br>
+ And, plunging in the sack His mighty hand,<br>
+ He traversed all the ether's wondrous plain<br>
+ With slow and measured step, as doth a sower,<br>
+ Sowing the gloomy void with many suns.<br>
+<br>
+ He tossed them&mdash;tossed them&mdash;some in fantastic
+groups,<br>
+ And some in luminous; some terrible.<br>
+ And 'neath the Sower's steps, whose grain was stars,<br>
+ The furrows of the sky, ecstatic, smoked.<br>
+<br>
+ He tossed them&mdash;tossed them&mdash;out of His whirling
+hand,<br>
+ Plenteous in every place, by full broad casts<br>
+ Measured to rhythmic beat; and golden stars<br>
+ Flew o'er the wide expanse like firefly swarms.<br>
+<br>
+ "Away! away!" cried He of worlds the Sower:<br>
+ "Away, ye stars! spring in the wastes of heaven;<br>
+ Broider its purple fields with your fair gems;<br>
+ Tuneful, elated, gladsome, take your course.<br>
+<br>
+ "Go, wave of fire, into a darksome night,<br>
+ And there make joy, and there the pleasant day!<br>
+ And launch into the depths immeasurable<br>
+ Quick, quivering darts of glowing light and love!<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page165"><!-- Begin Page 165 --></a> "I will that all
+within your bounds shall shine,<br>
+ Be glad, be prosperous, happy, blest, content,<br>
+ Shall sing for ever 'Glory be to Thee,<br>
+ Creator, Father, Sower, who with suns<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Hast
+filled infinity!'"<br>
+<br>
+ Thus He dismissed the stars, weighted with life,<br>
+ Careering round their calm Creator's feet<br>
+ As, in a desert place July has scorched,<br>
+ The grains of sand may cloud the traveller's steps.<br>
+<br>
+ And glittered all, and sang; and, hindered not,<br>
+ Upon their axes turned, constant and sure;<br>
+ Their million million voices, strong and deep,<br>
+ Bursting in great hosannas to the skies.<br>
+<br>
+ And all was happiness and right, beauty and strength;<br>
+ And every star heard all her radiant sons<br>
+ With songs of love ensphere her mother-breast;<br>
+ And all blessed Life. And blessed the Highest Heaven.<br>
+
+<hr>
+Now, when His bag of stars he had deplete,<br>
+ When all the dark with orbs of fire was strown,<br>
+ The Sower found at bottom, 'twixt two folds,<br>
+ A little bit of shining sun, chipped off.<br>
+<br>
+ And wondering, knowing not what sphere unknown<br>
+ Revolved in crimson space all incomplete,<br>
+ The great Creator, at a puff, spun off<br>
+ This tiny bit of sun far into space;<br>
+<br>
+ Then, mounting high up to His scarlet throne,<br>
+ Beyond the mist of thickly scattered worlds,<br>
+ Like a great crowned king whose proud eye burns<br>
+ At hearing from afar His people's voice,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; He
+listens,<br>
+ <a name="page166"><!-- Begin Page 166 --></a><br>
+ And He hears<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The
+mighty Alleluia of the stars,<br>
+ The choirs of glowing spheres in whirling flood<br>
+ Of song and high apotheosis,<br>
+ All surging to His feet in incense clouds.<br>
+<br>
+ He sees eternity with rapture thrilled;<br>
+ He sees in one prolonged diapason<br>
+ The organ of the universe, vehement, roll<br>
+ For ever songs of praise to Him, the Sower.<br>
+<br>
+ But suddenly He pales. From starry seas<br>
+ A smothered cry mounts to the upper skies;<br>
+ It rises, swells, grows strong; prevailing o'er<br>
+ All the ovation of the joyful spheres.<br>
+<br>
+ From that dim atom of the chipped orb<br>
+ It comes; from wretches left forsaken, sad,<br>
+ Who weep the Mother-star, incessant sought<br>
+ And never found from that gray point of sky.<br>
+<br>
+ And the cry said "Cursed! Cursed are we, the lost<br>
+ By misery led, a wretched pallid flock,<br>
+ Made for the light and tossed into the dark!<br>
+<br>
+ "We are the banished ones; the exile band;<br>
+ The only race whose eyes are filled with tears.<br>
+ And if the waters of our seas be salt,<br>
+ 'Twas our forefathers tears that made them so.<br>
+<br>
+ "Be He Anathema, the Sower of Light!<br>
+ Be He Anathema whom worlds adore!&mdash;<br>
+ If to our native star He join us not<br>
+ Be He accursed, through all creation cursed, for aye!"<br>
+<br>
+ Then rose the God from His great scarlet throne,<br>
+ And gentle, moved, weeping as we, He stretched<br>
+ His two bright arms over the flat expanse,<br>
+ And in a voice of thunder launched reply:&mdash;<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page167"><!-- Begin Page 167 --></a> "Morsel of Sun,
+calling thyself the Earth:&mdash;<br>
+ Chrysalides on her grey bounds supine:&mdash;<br>
+ Humanity&mdash;sing! for I give you Death,<br>
+ The Comforter, he who shall lead you back<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Safe
+to your Star of Light,<br>
+
+<hr>
+And this is why&mdash;lofty, above mishap,<br>
+ The Poet, made for stars of molten gold,<br>
+ Spurns earth; his eyes; fixed on the glowing heavens,<br>
+ Toward which he soon shall take his freer
+flight.<br></td></tr></table>
+<a name="page168"><!-- Begin Page 168 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="trans4">THE EMIGRANT MOUNTAINEER.
+<br>FROM THE FRENCH OF CHATEAUBRIAND.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>How doth fond memory oft return<br>
+ To that fair spot where I was born!<br>
+ My sister, those were happy days<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; In
+lovely France.<br>
+ O, country mine, my latest gaze<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Shall
+turn to France!<br>
+<br>
+ Remember'st thou with what fond pride,<br>
+ Our lowly cottage hearth beside,<br>
+ She clasped us to her gladsome breast&mdash;<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Our
+dearest mother;<br>
+ While on her hair so white, we pressed<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Kisses, together?<br>
+<br>
+ My sister, canst thou not recall<br>
+ Dor&eacute;, that bathed the castle wall,<br>
+ And that old Moorish tower, war-worn<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And
+grey,<br>
+ From whence the gong struck out each morn<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The
+break of day.<br>
+<br>
+ The tranquil lake doth mem'ry bring,<br>
+ Where swallows poised on lightest wing;<br>
+ The breeze by which the supple reed<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Was
+bent,&mdash;<br>
+ The setting sun whose glory filled<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The
+firmament?<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page169"><!-- Begin Page 169 --></a> Rememberest thou
+that tender wife,<br>
+ Dearest companion of my life?<br>
+ While gathering wild flowers in the grove<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; So
+sweet,<br>
+ Heart clung to heart, and Helen's love<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Flew
+mine to meet.<br>
+<br>
+ O give my Helen back to me,<br>
+ My mountain, and my old oak tree!<br>
+ Memory and pain, where'er I rove,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Entwine,<br>
+ Dear country, with my heart's deep love<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+Around thy shrine.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page170"><!-- Begin Page 170 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="trans5">FROM "LIGHTS AND SHADES."
+<br>FROM THE FRENCH OF VICTOR HUGO.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>When on the cliff, or in the wood<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; I muse the summer evening by,<br>
+ And realize the woes of life,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; I contemplate Eternity.<br>
+<br>
+ And through my shadow-chequered lot<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; GOD meets my earnest, gazing eye;<br>
+ As through the dusk of tangled boughs<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; We catch bright glimpses of the sky.<br>
+<br>
+ Yes, when, at last Death claims her own,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The spirit bursts the bonds of sense,<br>
+ And&mdash;like a nestling&mdash;in the tomb<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Finds pinions that shall bear her
+thence.</td></tr></table>
+<a name="page171"><!-- Begin Page 171 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3><a name="trans6">VILLANELLE TO ROSETTE
+<br>FROM THE FRENCH OF PHILIPPE DEPORTES, SIXTEENTH CENTURY.</a></h3>
+<hr>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>In my absence, though so short,<br>
+ You, Rosette, had changed your mind:<br>
+ Learning your inconstancy,<br>
+ I, another mistress find.<br>
+ Never more shall charms so free<br>
+ Gain ascendancy o'er me.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We shall see, oh light Rosette,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Which of us will first regret.<br>
+<br>
+ While with tears I pine away,<br>
+ Cursing separation drear;<br>
+ You, who love by force of wont,<br>
+ Took another for your dear.<br>
+ Never vane all lightly hung,<br>
+ To the wind more swiftly swung.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We shall see, oh vain Rosette,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Which of us will first regret.<br>
+<br>
+ Where are all those sacred vows,&mdash;<br>
+ All those tears at parting wept?<br>
+ Can it be those mournful plaints<br>
+ Came from heart so lightly kept?<br>
+ Heavens, that you so false could be!<br>
+ Who shall trust you, cursed is he.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We shall see, oh false Rosette,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Which of us will first regret.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page172"><!-- Begin Page 172 --></a> He who to my place
+has climbed,<br>
+ Ne'er can love you more than I;<br>
+ And in beauty, love, and faith,<br>
+ You're surpassed I own with joy.<br>
+ Guard your new love lest he range,<br>
+ Mine, the darling, knows not change.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Thus we put to proof, Rosette,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Which of us will first
+regret.<br></td></tr></table>
+<hr>
+<a name="page173"><!-- Begin Page 173 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h2><a name="notes">NOTES.</a></h2>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <a name="page174"><!-- Begin Page 174 --></a> <a name="page175">
+<!-- Begin Page 175 --></a>
+<h3>LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812<br>
+ A DRAMA.</h3>
+<h4>NOTE 1, <a href="#page011">page 11</a>.</h4>
+<p>The simple heroic story thus enlarged into dramatic form is not
+unknown to the Canadian muse, but has been sung by several of her
+votaries, notably by Miss Machar, of Kingston; Mr. John Reade, of
+Montreal; and Dr. Jakeway, of Stayner.</p>
+<p>Dr. Jakeway's verse is not so well known as it deserves to be,
+not only for its literary merit, but also for its patriotic
+fervour, the fervour of a true and loyal Canadian: I shall
+therefore be pardoned if I quote the closing stanzas of his "Laura
+Secord":</p>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp; "Braver deeds are not recorded,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; In historic treasures hoarded,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Than the march of Laura Secord through
+the forest, long ago.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And no nobler deed of daring<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Than the cool and crafty snaring,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; By that band at Beaver Dam, of all the
+well-appointed foe.<br>
+<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; But we know if war should ever<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Boom again o'er field and river.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And the hordes of the invader should
+appear within our land,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Far and wide the trumpets pealing.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Would awake the same old feeling.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And again would deeds of daring sparkle
+out on every hand."</td></tr></table>
+<h4>NOTE 2, <a href="#page012">page 12</a>.</h4>
+<center>And Stony Creek was ours.</center>
+<p>A 49th man thus writes to Auchinleck, p.
+178:&mdash;"Sir,&mdash;To your, account of the battle of Stony
+Creek I would like to add a few particulars.... At eleven o'clock
+at night the Light Company and Grenadiers of the 49th were under
+arms; every flint was taken out and every charge was drawn. Shortly
+after we moved on in sections, left in front, the Light Company
+leading the way towards the enemy's camp. I had been driven in that
+afternoon from Stony Creek, and was well acquainted with the
+ground. The cautious silence observed was most painful; not a
+whisper was permitted; even our <a name="page176">
+<!-- Begin Page 176 --></a> footsteps were not allowed to be heard.
+I shall never forget the agony caused to the senses by the
+stealthiness with which we proceeded to the midnight slaughter. I
+was not aware that any other force accompanied us than the
+Grenadiers, and when we approached near the Creek, I ventured to
+whisper to Col. Harvey, 'We are close to the enemy's camp, sir.'
+'Hush! I know it,' was his reply. Shortly after a sentry challenged
+sharply; Lieutenant Danford and the leading section rushed forward
+and killed him with their bayonets; his bleeding corpse was cast
+aside, and we moved on with breathless caution. A second
+challenge&mdash;who comes there?&mdash;another rush and the poor
+sentinel is transfixed, but his agonized dying groans alarmed a
+third who stood near the watch fire; he challenged, and immediately
+fired and fled. We all rushed forward upon the sleeping guard; few
+escaped; many awoke in another world. The excitement now became
+intense; the few who had escaped fired as they ran and aroused the
+sleeping army. All fled precipitately beyond the Creek, leaving
+their blankets and knapsacks behind.</p>
+<p>"Our troops deployed into line and halted in the midst of the
+camp fires, and immediately began to replace their flints. This,
+though not a <i>very</i> lengthy operation, was one of intense
+anxiety, for the enemy now opened a most terrific fire, and many a
+brave fellow was laid low. We could only see the flash of the
+enemy's firelocks while we were perfectly visible to them, standing
+as we did in the midst of their camp fires. It was a grand and
+beautiful sight. No one who has not witnessed a night engagement
+can form any idea of the awful sublimity of the scene. The first
+volley from the enemy, coming from a spot as 'dark as Erebus,'
+seemed like the bursting forth of a volcano. Then again all was
+dark and still, save the moans of the wounded, the confused click!
+click!&mdash;noise made by our men in adjusting their flints, and
+the ring of the enemy's ramrods in reloading. Again the flash and
+roar of the musketry, the whistling of the bullets, and the crash
+of the cannon. 'Chaos has come again.' The anxious moments (hours
+in imagination) have passed; the trembling excited hands of our men
+have at last fastened their flints; the comparatively merry sound
+of the ramrod tells that the charge is driven home; soon the fire
+is returned with animation; the sky is illumined with continued
+flashes; after a sharp contest and some changes of position, our
+men advance in a body and the enemy's troops retire. There were
+many mistakes made in this action, the two greatest were removing
+the men's flints, and halting in the midst of the camp fires; this
+is the reason why the loss of the enemy was less than ours, their
+wounds were mostly made by our bayonets. The changes of position by
+different portions of each army in the dark accounts for the fact
+of prisoners having been made by both parties. I must give the
+enemy's troops great credit for having recovered from their
+confusion, and for having shown a bold front so very soon after
+their having been so suddenly and completely surprised.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">"Yours, A 49TH MAN."</p>
+<a name="page177"><!-- Begin Page 177 --></a>
+<h4>NOTE 3, <a href="#page013">page 13</a>.</h4>
+<center>Friend Penn.</center>
+<p>Of this character, of whom the writer has made a somewhat free
+use, Col. Coffin says: "There is a tradition in the neighbourhood
+that Harvey himself having borrowed the garb and waggon of a
+Quaker"&mdash;of which sect there were many settled in Upper Canada
+at the time&mdash;"penetrated into the American lines, selling
+potatoes and 'taking notes.' Those who can recall the commanding
+stature and bearing of the gallant officer maintain that this was
+the very last disguise in which he was likely to succeed. It is not
+impossible that some patriotic 'Friend' really found a good market
+for his produce and valuable information for Harvey."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 4, <a href="#page015">page 15</a>.</h4>
+<center>Hymn.</center>
+<p>An air to this hymn has been composed.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 5, <a href="#page016">page 16</a>.</h4>
+<center>Pete and Flos.</center>
+<p>That the rights of the slave-holder had legal recognition in
+1812 is not to be doubted, and that nearly every family of any
+means or repute held slaves is certain. The Bill abolishing slavery
+in the British Dominions did not pass until 1832, when it was
+introduced by Lord Stanley (the late Earl of Derby). A strong
+feeling in favour of its abolition had however permeated society,
+in consequence of the powerful representations made on the subject,
+both in and out of the British Parliament, by Wilberforce and
+Clarkson, "who had successfully shown," says Hamilton in his
+"Outlines of the History of England," "that the effect of this
+iniquitous system was no less injurious to the moral condition of
+the people of England than it was to the physical well-being of the
+African race." That no ill-feeling towards their masters generally
+existed in Canada in the minds of the slaves may be fairly inferred
+from the fact that, at their own request, a coloured regiment was
+formed to assist in the defence of the country in 1812, and under
+Captain Runchey did good service at the Battle of Queenston
+Heights. In this connection it is also to be remembered that large
+numbers of freedmen were to be found both in England and
+Canada&mdash;men who for faithful or special services had received
+the gift of freedom from their grateful and generous masters.</p>
+<p>That the Legislature of Upper Canada was free even at that early
+period to deal with its domestic questions is shown by the fact
+that in 1793 an Act was passed at Newark, "forbidding the further
+introduction of slaves into the province, and ordering that 'all
+slave children born after the 9th of July in that year should be
+free on attaining the age of twenty-five.'" To this Act is due the
+fact that Canada was as early as 1800 a city of refuge for escaped
+slaves, numbers of whom found their way hither from Baltimore and
+Maryland. (<i>See</i> also <a href="#appendices">Appendix</a>.)</p>
+<a name="page178"><!-- Begin Page 178 --></a>
+<h4>NOTE 6, <a href="#page018">page 18</a>.</h4>
+<center>We'll have it though, and more, if Boerstler.</center>
+<p>It has generally been stated that Mr. Secord heard of the
+intended surprise of Fitzgibbon by accident. The facts of the case
+are, however, related in the poem, Mrs. Smith, a daughter of Mr.
+and Mrs. Secord, who yet survives, being the authority.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Smith states that with the insolence of the victorious
+invader, Dearborn's men came and went, ordered, or possessed
+themselves of, whatever they chose, and took every form of
+familiarity in the homes of the residents within their lines, and
+that it was fast becoming an anxious question with the farmers and
+others, what they should do for supplies if Dearborn were not
+ousted within the season.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 7, <a href="#page019">page 19</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&mdash;and fell a-talking, loud,<br>
+ As in defiance, of some private plan<br>
+ To make the British wince.</td></tr></table>
+<p>The ill-feeling of the Americans towards British subjects can
+scarcely be too strongly represented for the facts. A bitter
+antagonism was naturally the feeling of each side so lately in the
+deadly struggle of a civil war. To gloss over this state of things,
+deplorable as it was, and as its results have often been, is to
+belie history, and to no good or useful end. Had the contention
+been akin to a mere friendly tug-of-war, as some would have it
+represented now, lest a growing friendliness should be endangered,
+it would be necessary for the historian to re-write all that has
+been written, for otherwise the arguments of contention would have
+no meaning, no <i>raison d'&ecirc;tre</i>; in fact, they could
+never have been formulated, for the premisses would have been
+wanting. "He is the best cosmopolite, who for his country lives."
+says some one, and it is to this truth that the peace of the world,
+which we all wish to see established, will be owing, not to any
+false representations in place of facts.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 8, <a href="#page025">page 25</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>That hate to England, not our country's name<br>
+ And weal, impelled mad Madison upon this war,<br>
+ And shut the mouths of thousand higher men than
+be.</td></tr></table>
+<p>"The Democratic Party," says Col. Coffin (see "Chronicle of the
+War," pp. 30-1-3), "eager to humble Britain, accepted any
+humiliation rather than quarrel with France. They submitted to the
+capture of ships, the sequestration of cargoes, the ransom of
+merchandise, with a faint remonstrance. French war ships seized
+American merchantmen at sea&mdash;plundered and burnt them. They
+consoled themselves with the belief that the anticipated triumph of
+the French Emperor in Europe would ensure their supremacy on this
+continent. They were prepared to divide the world between them...."
+In the words of the historian Alison, "the ostensible object of the
+war was to establish the principle that the flag covers the
+merchandise, <a name="page179"><!-- Begin Page 179 --></a> and that
+the right of search for seamen who have deserted is inadmissible;
+the real object was to wrest from Great Britain the Canadas, and,
+in conjunction with Napoleon, extinguish its maritime and colonial
+empire. Politicians, too, of this early American school had a
+notion that French connection and the conquest of Canada were
+synonymous terms. This was a great mistake ... but ... it had an
+unexpected good effect, for the very suggestion of a French policy,
+or the exercise of French influence, tested the British feeling
+still latent in the hearts of thousands of Americans. In the New
+England States a war with England was denounced.... Citizens of
+these States expressed an abhorrence of France, and of its rule,
+and protested against the contemplated introduction of French
+troops on this continent, which, under the pretext of subduing or
+seducing the French-Canadians, might prove to be subversive of
+their own liberties.</p>
+<p>"It is probable that to this spirit of truthful independence may
+be ascribed the fact that during the whole of the ensuing war
+(1812-15) the immense extent of frontier between Lower Canada and
+the States of Vermont and New Hampshire and Maine was unassailed by
+an enemy.... No hostile irruption was attempted upon the Province
+from Lake Champlain to the ocean.... War was declared on the 18th
+June, 1812, by Act of Congress. Mr. Madison, then President, who
+had done all in his power to exasperate the existing ill-will, and
+to lash the popular mind to frenzy, eluded the responsibility of
+the fatal act, and made a cat's paw of the Legislature."</p>
+<p>The people of the United States were disunited on the subject of
+the war.... The Legislature of Maryland openly denounced the war.
+The Governments of Massachusetts, Connecticut and Rhode Island had
+refused the quota of militia demanded of these States respectively.
+Such men as Quincey declared in the House of Representatives at
+Washington that "since the invasion of the Buccaneers, there was
+nothing in history more disgraceful than this war." The same view
+of President Madison's action is also held by Auchinleck, Christie,
+and, indeed, by every trustworthy historian of the time.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 9, <a href="#page025">page 25</a>.</h4>
+<center>In opening up a road to reach the great Pacific.</center>
+<p>In 1812 the vast promise of the West had begun to attract public
+interest. The discovery of the Columbia River in Oregon, including
+what is now Washington Territory, was made by Captain Gray, of
+Boston, in 1792, and upon this was based the general claim of the
+United States to the Territory. The British, however, held a prior
+claim of occupation and discovery. In 1804-6 Captains Lewis and
+Clarke explored the whole country from the mouth of the Missouri to
+the mouth of the Columbia, and in 1811 Fort Astoria was built. The
+Treaty of 1845 settled the question of claim to this Territory in
+common with other Western lands in favour of the United States.
+Although California was not largely settled by United States
+subjects until the Treaty of 1844, yet its reputation for being a
+gold-bearing <a name="page180"><!-- Begin Page 180 --></a> country
+was well established, and had been increasing in public regard from
+the time of its first exploration by Sir Francis Drake in 1570, who
+expressed a strong opinion as to its auriferous character. Long
+before the famous expedition of Colonel Fremont across "the
+plains," numerous trails, too often marked by the white bones of
+their victims, bore testimony to the dauntless courage and sanguine
+enterprise that has opened up the great empire of the West.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 10, <a href="#page026">page 26</a>.</h4>
+<center>Brock! MacDonell! Dennis!</center>
+<p>It would be a work of supererogation to say anything of
+Major-General Sir Isaac Brock here, so completely is his name
+enshrined in Canadian history, literature, and tradition. I may,
+however, be pardoned if I quote a few descriptive sentences to be
+found in "A Chapter of the War of 1812," by Col. William Stanley
+Hatch, Acting Assistant Quartermaster-General of the army with Hull
+at Detroit.</p>
+<p>"General Brock was an officer of distinction. His personal
+appearance was commanding; he must have been six feet three or four
+inches in height, very massive and large boned, though not fleshy,
+and apparently of immense muscular power. His Aides were elegant
+young men, very near, if not quite six feet in height, and in their
+splendid uniforms all three presented a brilliant appearance. But
+how transitory and evanescent the gratification of that day and
+that event!" [the taking of Detroit]. "In a few short
+weeks&mdash;less than two months&mdash;on the 13th October, 1812,
+two of these noble men and gentlemanly officers had fallen. At this
+distant day I feel it due to myself and to them to record the
+sentiment of regret which impressed itself upon my mind when the
+announcement came that General Brock and Colonel MacDonell, public
+enemies as they were, had terminated their earthly career at
+Queenston."</p>
+<p>Lieutenant-Colonel MacDonell, A.D.C. to General Brock, was "one
+of five sons of a brother of MacDonell, Laird of Glengarry, who
+bore a prominent part in supporting Prince Charles, called the
+Pretender.... The family came out to this country shortly after the
+American Revolution, and settled in the County of Glengarry among
+other Scotch settlers, who had been located on lands in that county
+upon the disbanding of the regiment known as the Royal Highland
+Emigrants. Lieutenant-Colonel MacDonell came up to Toronto (then
+York) and studied law, and was appointed Attorney-General of the
+Province when a very young man, and afterwards accompanied, as
+aide-de-camp, General Brock at Detroit and Queenston," where he
+gloriously fell in the gallant charge that followed the fall of
+Brock.&mdash;<i>Extract of private letter</i>. (<i>See</i> also
+<a href="#appendices">Appendix</a>.)</p>
+<p>"I have heard that he (Lieut.-Col. MacDonell) was brought up by
+the late Hon. Alexander MacDonell, who gave him a valuable piece of
+property in the then Town of York to start him in the legal
+profession. On his way up the Niagara River with General Brock,
+having a kind of presentiment of <a name="page181">
+<!-- Begin Page 181 --></a> what might happen, the Colonel made his
+will, and bequeathed the land referred to, to James MacDonell,
+eldest son of the Hon. Alexander MacDonell. The land is now owned
+by the widow of James (Mrs. M. S. MacDonell, living at 305 Bathurst
+Street). It comprised the west side of Church Street, from
+Wellington Street to King Street, and went some distance
+west."&mdash;<i>Extract of private letter</i>.</p>
+<p>Beside the lady above mentioned, several connections of
+Lieut.-Col. MacDonell reside in Toronto, among them W. J.
+MacDonell, Esq., French Vice-Consul; Angus D. MacDonell, Inland
+Revenue Department; and Alex. MacDonell, Esq., Osgoode Hall. The
+late Bishop MacDonell was also of this family, as were most of the
+MacDonells who grace the pages of Canadian histories of the War of
+1812.</p>
+<p>Captain James Dennis&mdash;the third of the trio whom Mrs.
+Secord apostrophises&mdash;then Lieutenant, had been among the
+wounded on board the <i>Monarch</i> man-of-war at Copenhagen, but
+recovered so as to accompany his regiment to Canada. In 1812 he was
+in charge of one of the two flank companies of the 49th, stationed
+at Queenston, and gallantly led the defence, directing the one-gun
+battery and holding the enemy completely in check until their
+discovery of a path to the summit of the Height turned the scale on
+the wrong side, where it stood until the arrival of General Brock.
+In the splendid charge up-hill Captain Dennis was wounded, and, it
+was supposed, killed; he, however, bravely kept the field until the
+day was won, despite pain and weakness. He was not related to the
+Dennises of York, and Buttonwood, near Weston; but two members of
+this family were in the York militia, and served at Queenston. The
+late Bishop Richardson, an uncle of theirs, also served in the navy
+on the lakes, where he lost an arm.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 11, <a href="#page027">page 27</a>.</h4>
+<center>The Widow, Stephen Secord.</center>
+<p>This lady was the widow of Stephen, an elder brother of James
+Secord, who, in conjunction with another brother, David, a major in
+the militia, and after whom the village was named, built and owned
+the grist mill at St. David's. Stephen Secord appears to have died
+some years previous to the war, leaving a family of several sons.
+With the wisdom and spirit of a sensible woman the widow carried on
+the business, and thereby brought up her family. During the war all
+her sons were variously engaged in it with the exception of the
+youngest, and in the absence of sufficient help the widow worked
+with her own hands, turning out flour for which the Government paid
+her twenty dollars a barrel. Many of the Secords who are to be
+found scattered through the Province at the present time are
+children of her sons.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 12, <a href="#page027">page 27</a>.</h4>
+<center>Sergeant George Mosier.</center>
+<p>This character is singular in being the only pure invention in
+the poem; and the name was chosen as being most unlikely to be
+borne by any one in the neighbourhood of Queenston. By one of those
+coincidences, however, <a name="page182">
+<!-- Begin Page 182 --></a> that are not unknown, it appears that
+there was a Captain Mosier living at Newark in 1812, and commanding
+a vessel on Lake Ontario. Captain Mosier was of some service to the
+British Government, and on one occasion was able to be of special
+use in carrying off and concealing, until the mischievous effect
+was over, a somewhat hot-headed gentleman who in the ardour of his
+loyalty had thought it his solemn duty to cross the river and
+bayonet the sentinel at Fort Niagara.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 13, <a href="#page027">page 27</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;
+&mdash;all is pretty quiet still<br>
+ Since Harvey struck them dumb at Stony Creek.<br>
+ Along the Lake bold Yeb holds them fast,<br>
+ And Erie-way, Bishopp and Evans back him,</td></tr></table>
+<p>"On the withdrawal of the British troops, the battlefield of
+Stony Creek was, as before said, for a short space re-occupied by
+the Americans under Colonel Burns, a cavalry officer, upon whom the
+command had devolved. He merely remained long enough to destroy the
+tents ... and stores. He then rapidly retired to the protection of
+the lines of Fort George, though in executing this manoeuvre he was
+intercepted and suffered much. On their advance the Americans had
+been accompanied all along the lake shore by a flotilla of boats
+and batteaux. Burns fell back upon this support, and embarked his
+wounded, and such of his men as had not yet got under cover, and
+was slowly creeping down the coast to the place from whence he
+came, when, on the 8th June, Sir James Yeo, who by this time had
+become master of his own movements, and had got out of Kingston,
+appeared in the offing; intelligence from the shore had apprised
+him of the state of things, and of the position of the enemy; and
+Richardson (the late James Richardson, D.D.) dwells with sailorly
+impatience on the perversity of a calm.... A breeze sprung up and
+the squadron closed in with the shore, cutting off the twelve
+rearmost boats of the American flotilla, laden with valuable
+supplies and stores. Perceiving an encampment in the woods on the
+beach, the Commodore disembarked in the ship's boats two companies
+of regulars under Major Evans of the 8th Regiment. This active
+officer landed, and in the evening having been reinforced by two
+companies from Burlington Heights under Colonel Bishopp, the second
+deserted American camp was entered. It was in a state of
+conflagration, ... but the captors saved from the flames 500 tents,
+140 barrels of flour, 100 stand of arms.... Thus did this exploit
+of Harvey free the whole Peninsula from the invaders, and threw
+them back upon the mere edge of the frontier with a deep and
+dangerous river in their rear, between them and their supports and
+supplies."&mdash;<i>Col. Coffin's Chronicles of the War of
+1812</i>. (<i>See</i> also <a href="#appendices">Appendix</a>.)</p>
+<h4>NOTE 14, <a href="#page029">page 29</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; She, our neighbour
+there<br>
+ At Queenston.</td></tr></table>
+<p>This brave woman was Mrs. Maria Hill, a soldier's wife, who
+pitying the hungry condition of men who had been called out before
+day-break on a cold <a name="page183"><!-- Begin Page 183 --></a>
+October morning, to meet a foe already in partial occupation and
+temporarily victorious, had no means of procuring or cooking
+supplies, and indeed could not even break their fast, except by the
+intervention of those whose property they, for the time, had been
+unable to defend. Mrs. Hill carried her little stores on to the
+field, and leaving her babe, who crowed and cheered, it is said, as
+though mightily diverted by the sight of the red-coats, under the
+shelter of a wood-pile, lighted fires, boiled water, and carried
+tea and food to as many of the men on the field as she could
+supply.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 15, <a href="#page030">page 30</a>.</h4>
+<center>The Lady Harriet Acland.</center>
+<p>This lady was the daughter of Stephen, first Earl of Ilchester,
+and accompanied her husband, Major John Dyke-Acland, to Canada in
+1776.</p>
+<p>The story put into the mouth of Sergeant George Mosier may be
+found in the <i>Saturday Magazine</i> for May, 1835, and also in
+Burke's "Romance of the Aristocracy." Her beauty, bravery and
+tender love for her husband made the name of Lady Harriet Acland an
+honour and delight among the men of her husband's regiment, and
+thus it is that Sergeant Mosier is made her historian with great
+propriety.</p>
+<p>In the <i>Gentleman's Magazine</i> for February, 1778, I also
+find the following note, p. 69, in "Extracts from the Congress
+Accounts of the Northern Expeditions":</p>
+<p>"Oct. 11.&mdash;Some letters passed between the Generals, the
+first from Gen. Burgoyne, by Lady Acland, whose husband was
+dangerously wounded, recommending her Ladyship to the care and
+protection of Gen. Gates. Gen. Gates's answer, in which he
+expresses his surprise that his Excellency, after considering his
+preceding conduct, should think that he could consider the greatest
+attention to Lady Acland in the light of an <i>obligation</i>."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 16, <a href="#page030">page 30</a>.</h4>
+<center>Save perhaps the Baroness.</center>
+<p>The Baroness Reidessel, the wife of one of the officers of the
+Hessians. This lady, together with the wives of Major Harnage and
+Lieutenant Reynell, was with Lady Acland during the painful march
+that preceded the action of the 19th September, 1777. They had
+followed the route of the artillery and baggage as being less
+likely of attack on the road, and when the engagement begun found
+themselves at a little uninhabited hut, from whence they could hear
+the roll of the guns that were carrying death to scores of brave
+men. Here they had to endure a great trial, for their only refuge
+was also the only place to which the wounded, who soon began to
+arrive in great numbers, could be brought for first care. Soon
+Major Harnage was brought in desperately wounded. Not long after
+the news arrived that Lieutenant Reynell was shot dead, and before
+the day was done Major Acland was a prisoner dangerously wounded.
+Herself saved for the present such terrible <a name="page184">
+<!-- Begin Page 184 --></a> trials, Baroness Reidessel
+distinguished herself by her ministrations to her suffering
+companions, and to the dying and wounded around, thus gaining the
+affectionate remembrance of many a poor fellow who had no other ray
+of comfort in his anguish.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 17, <a href="#page037">page 37</a>.</h4>
+<center>"Rule Britannia."</center>
+<p>This, together with "The King: God bless him," and "The Duke of
+York's March" were at this period new and favourite tunes all over
+the British Empire. In the <i>Times</i>, Oct. 3, 1798, under the
+heading "Drury Lane Theatre," it is reported that "after the play
+the news of Admiral Nelson's victory (over the French under Admiral
+Brueys at Rosetta) produced a burst of patriotic exultation that
+has been rarely witnessed in a theatre. 'Rule Britannia' was
+lustily called for from every part of the house, and Messrs. Kelly,
+Dignum, Sedgwick, Miss Leak and Mrs. Bland came forward and sang
+it, accompanied by numbers of the audience. It was called for and
+sung a second time. The acclamations were the loudest and most
+fervent we have ever witnessed. The following lines, written for
+the occasion, were introduced by Mr. Dignum and Mr. Sedgwick:</p>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>"'Again the tributary strain<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Of grateful Britons, let us raise;<br>
+ And to the heroes on the main,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Triumphant add a Nelson's praise.<br>
+ Though the "Great Nation" proudly boasts<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Herself invincible to be,<br>
+ Yet oft brave Nelson still can prove<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Britannia Mistress of the Sea.'</td></tr></table>
+<p>"The audience was not satisfied with this repeated mark of
+exultation, but in the effusion of enthusiasic loyalty called for
+'God Save the King,' which was received with reiterated
+plaudits."</p>
+<p>In another column of the same issue it is told that, "A person
+last night in the gallery of Drury Lane House calling frequently in
+a boisterous manner for the tune of 'Britons, Strike Home!' was
+immediately silenced by the appropriate observation of another at
+some distance from him, 'Why, damn it, they have, haven't
+they?'"</p>
+<p>The great popularity of "Rule Britannia" was owing to its entire
+consonance with the spirit of the nation, a popularity not even yet
+diminished. A further instance of its use in the celebration of a
+great national event is given in the <i>Times</i>, Nov. 7, 1805, in
+which is recorded the official account of the Battle of Trafalgar
+and the death of Nelson. At Covent Garden, where both the Kembles
+were then playing together with Mrs. Siddons, a "hasty but elegant
+compliment to the memory of Lord Nelson" was presented. It
+"consisted of columns in the foreground decorated with medallions
+of the naval heroes of Britain. In the distance a number of ships
+were seen, and the front of the picture was filled by Mr. Taylor
+and the principal singers of the theatre. <a name="page185">
+<!-- Begin Page 185 --></a> They were grouped in an interesting
+manner with their eyes turned toward the clouds, from whence a
+half-length portrait of Lord Nelson descended with the following
+words underwritten, 'Horatio Nelson, Ob. 21st Oct.'" Mr. Taylor and
+the other performers then sang "Rule Britannia," verse and chorus.
+The following additional verse, written by Mr. Ashley, of Bath, was
+introduced and sung by Mr. Taylor with the most affecting
+expression. It was universally encored:&mdash;</p>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>"Again the loud-toned trump of fame,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Proclaims Britannia rules the main;<br>
+ While sorrow whispers Nelson's name,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And mourns the gallant hero slain.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Rule, brave Britons, rule the main.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Revenge the God-like hero
+slain."</td></tr></table>
+<h4>NOTE 18, <a href="#page037">page 37</a>.</h4>
+<center>Can you wonder? ... shot at, etc.</center>
+<p>The cruel treatment of the Loyalists, or <i>King's Men</i>, by
+the <i>Continentals</i>, as they called themselves, is one of the
+features of this painful time, records of which abound: the story
+of Moody is well known: another as authentic may be here quoted.
+The Rev. G. A. Anderson, late Chaplain to the Reformatory at
+Penetanguishene, in writing to the press with reference to the U.
+E. L. Celebration in 1884, says:</p>
+<p>"My grandfather, Samuel Anderson, was born of Irish parents,
+near Boston, 4th May, 1736.... He joined the King's forces, serving
+under General Abercrombie ... then under General Amherst, ... and
+was at the taking of Ticonderoga.... In 1775 he was offered a
+captaincy in the <i>Continental</i> service which he peremptorily
+refused. Some time after he was offered the command of a regiment;
+this he also refused. He was at once suspected of being a <i>King's
+Man</i>, taken prisoner, and with several others, confined in
+Litchfield gaol, where he suffered almost death for two years. One
+morning, having heard that he and his fellow-prisoners were to be
+shot the following day, being a powerful man he wrenched the iron
+bars from the windows, and, with his companions, escaped to
+Canada....</p>
+<p>A quotation from the "Boston Confiscation Act," Sept., 1778, ch.
+48, speaks volumes as to the attitude of the new Republic towards
+the Loyalists: "In Massachusetts a person suspected of enmity to
+the Whig cause could be arrested under a magistrate's warrant, and
+banished, unless he would swear fealty to the friends of liberty;
+and the select-men of towns could prefer charges of political
+treachery in town meetings, and the individual thus accused, if
+convicted by a jury, could be sent into the enemy's jurisdiction.
+Massachusetts also designated by name, and generally by occupation
+and residence, three hundred and eight of her people, of whom
+seventeen had been inhabitants of Maine who had fled from their
+houses, and denounced against any one of them who should return
+apprehension, imprisonment and <a name="page186">
+<!-- Begin Page 186 --></a> transportation to a place possessed by
+the British, and for a second voluntary return, without leave,
+death, without the benefit of clergy. By another law the property
+of twenty-nine persons, who were denominated 'notorious
+conspirators,' was confiscated; of these fifteen had been appointed
+'Mandamus Councillors,' two had been Governors, one
+Lieutenant-Governor, one Treasurer, one Attorney-General, one Chief
+Justice and four Commissioners of Customs."&mdash;Lorenzo Sabine,
+<i>Historical Essay prefixed to Biographical Sketches of the
+American Loyalists</i>. (See further, chapters 39 and 41, vol. 2,
+Ryerson's <i>Loyalists of America and Their Times</i>. <i>See</i>
+also <a href="#appendices">Appendix</a>.)</p>
+<h4>NOTE 19, <a href="#page038">page 38</a>.</h4>
+<center>"James Coffin is good."</center>
+<p>The name of Coffin is famous in the annals, military, naval and
+civil, of Canada, and is scarcely less marked in the history of the
+earlier United States of America. Two branches of the family came,
+U. E. Loyalists, to Canada in 1775-78. One established itself on
+the St. John, New Brunswick, the other in Quebec. "Twenty years
+after the landing from the <i>Mayflower</i>, the first of the name
+put in an appearance from Brixton, near Plymouth, South Devon,
+England, at Newbury Port, in New Hampshire." James Coffin,
+mentioned above, was the sixth son of John Coffin, who settled in
+Quebec, and did such good service at the
+<i>Pr&egrave;s-de-ville</i>, when Montgomery and Arnold invaded the
+Province. Like all the Coffins, James was of a genial and kindly
+disposition, and his appointment as a Commissary Officer permitted
+opportunities for consideration and courtesy to people of all
+ranks, which he did not fail to avail himself of. He died Assistant
+Commissary-General in 1835, at Quebec.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 20, <a href="#page040">page 40</a>.</h4>
+<center>From proffered gifts, or gold.</center>
+<p>"To the soldiers of this regiment (the 41st), as indeed to all
+others, every temptation had been presented to induce them to
+desert and enlist in their service, by money, land, etc. After it
+was found impossible to persuade any number of them to do so the
+American Government encamped them, for nearly two months, in a
+pestilential marsh near Sandusky without covering." (<i>See</i> Dr.
+Strachan's letter, as Treasurer of the Loyal and Patriotic Society
+of Upper Canada, to Thomas Jefferson, Esq., Ex-President of the
+United States of America.)</p>
+<h4>NOTE 21, <a href="#page041">page 41</a>.</h4>
+<center>The beech-ridge.</center>
+<p>This was a ridge of high land clad with beeches which overhung a
+hollow in the road to Beaver Dam, and now forms the basin of the
+Welland Canal. "The spot," says Colonel Coffin, "which then rang
+with the outcries of the combatants now resounds with the hum of
+industry and the working-chant of the sailor."</p>
+<a name="page187"><!-- Begin Page 187 --></a>
+<h4>NOTE 22, <a href="#page047">page 47</a>.</h4>
+<center>The small, neglectful bird.</center>
+<p>This is Tengmalm's Owl, or Death-bird. "The Indians of North
+America," says Rev. J. G. Wood, "have a superstition that whoever
+hears the note of this bird must whistle in reply, and if the bird
+returns no answer the person will die within the year."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 23, <a href="#page050">page 50</a>.</h4>
+<center>Beaver Dam&mdash;Decau's house.</center>
+<p>Decau's farm house at the Beaver Dam was British headquarters
+more than once during the War of 1812. Close to this famous spot
+the town of Thorold now stands, and the interested visitor may
+reach it by tram-car from St. Catharines. Decau's Falls, near by,
+preserve the memory of the ancient settler on the spot in less
+correct orthography, Decew and less euphonious form than the
+original, which is said to have been also, Decamps.</p>
+<p>Another form of it may be found in "Loyalists of America," p,
+243:</p>
+<p>"In the summer of 1800 my mother had a very nice help as nurse.
+Jenny Decow had been apprenticed to a relative, and at the age of
+eighteen, she received her bed, her cow, and two or three suits of
+clothing (those articles it was customary to give to a bound girl)
+and she was considered legally of age, with the right to earn her
+own living as best she could. ... Jenny had a wooer, ... young
+Daniel McCall made his appearance."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 24, <a href="#page050">page 50</a>.</h4>
+<center>Fitzgibbon.</center>
+<p>This brave officer is thus described in the letter of "A Green
+'Un," I have elsewhere quoted, and which was written in 1852, at
+which date Colonel Fitzgibbon was yet alive:&mdash;"Colonel
+Fitzgibbon has long been known in Canada, in both a civil and a
+military capacity, and if he was now present he would be able to
+give you much more interesting and valuable information. At the
+time of this attack" (Black Rock, July 12th, 1813), "he was a
+Lieutenant in the 49th, and his daring spirit and energy of
+character were well known to the whole army. General Vincent had
+placed him in command of a sort of independent company of Rangers.
+Volunteers from the different regiments were asked for, and strange
+to say so many men offered that it was difficult to decide who
+should be permitted to go. From the numerous young subs. desirous
+of joining him he selected his friend Lieutenant Winder of the 49th
+(now Dr. Winder, Librarian to the House of Assembly at Quebec),
+Volunteer D. A. McDonnell of the 8th, Volunteer Augustus Thompson
+of the 49th; and another youngster of the 49th (the late Judge
+Jarvis, of Cornwall) who were permitted as a great favour to join
+his corps." Colonel Coffin in his "Chronicles of the War of 1812,"
+gives a very full account of Colonel Fitzgibbon's career, of which
+only a brief outline is proper here. Colonel James Fitzgibbon was
+the son of an English farmer, had a little early education, and
+acquired a <a name="page188"><!-- Begin Page 188 --></a> fondness
+for reading; his passion for arms was irresistible. At seventeen he
+enlisted, and the same day, 25th, October, 1798, was made a
+sergeant. At twenty-one he was made Sergeant-Major. He served in
+Ireland and before Copenhagen, where the 49th acted as marines. He
+was appointed to an ensigncy and adjutancy, and came to Canada. In
+1809 he succeeded to a lieutenancy; and resigned the adjutancy to
+command a small detachment in the field. His exploits at the Beaver
+Dam gave him his company. He thus rose by dint of meritorious
+service, at a time when commissions and promotions were not so
+freely given to deserving men as they are now. On this, and on all
+other occasions, during the war, Fitzgibbon made his mark.</p>
+<p>"At the close of the war, he settled in Canada, and filled many
+offices of honour and emolument under the Government. His last
+appointment was that of Clerk to the Legislative Council. He
+retired on a pension, and returned to his native land, when, in
+just appreciation of his services, he was made a Military Knight of
+Windsor."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 25, <a href="#page050">page 50</a>.</h4>
+<center>"The Times." A newspaper of four pages.</center>
+<p>The first name of this great newspaper was <i>The Daily
+Universal Register</i>, but it had taken its latest title as early
+as 1801. An issue of that date containing the official accounts of
+the Battle of Copenhagen is in the writer's possession.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 26, <a href="#page055">page 55</a>.</h4>
+<center>And gray the dawn, and cold the morn of Rensellaer's
+attack.</center>
+<p>The 11th October had been first decided upon for the invasion of
+Queenston, but it proved one of those fierce October days that
+drench the earth with a cold rain, making roads into quagmires, and
+rivers into torrents, stripping the trees of their leafy honours,
+and not unfrequently tearing them up by the roots. The 13th opened
+cold and gray, but developed into a fine fall day, much to the
+convenience of the invaders. (<i>See</i> also <a href=
+"#appendices">Appendix</a>.)</p>
+<h4>NOTE 27, <a href="#page055">page 55</a>.</h4>
+<center>Though sad to me, who caught Brock's latest
+breath.</center>
+<p>"And our gallant General fell on his left side within a few feet
+of where I stood. Running up to him, I enquired, 'Are you much
+hurt, sir?' He placed his hand on his breast but made no reply, and
+sunk slowly down."&mdash;<i>Mr. G. S. Jarvis (the late Judge
+Jarvis, of Cornwall), in Auchinleck's History of the War of</i>
+1812, p. 105.</p>
+<p>Mr. Jarvis was taken prisoner at Queenston, but was exchanged
+for a Captain of militia within a week.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 28, <a href="#page059">page 59</a>.</h4>
+<center>Affliction leaves him in our hands to do him
+justice.</center>
+<p>The noble mind is always alert to see that he who cannot take
+care of himself shall be tenderly cared for, and that the more
+fully, the more he is exposed to injury by the prominence or
+delicacy of his position.</p>
+<a name="page189"><!-- Begin Page 189 --></a>
+<p>In 1812 the King's malady, which in 1805 is recorded to have
+affected his eyes to such a degree that "he had to wear a green
+shade ... after candle-light," and could not "distinguish any
+person unless he be very near," and by the assistance of a glass,
+had increased to such an extent that Prince George had to be
+appointed Regent, and there were not wanting those who chose the
+opportunity to laugh at and depreciate the King's character.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 28a, <a href="#page060">page 60</a>.</h4>
+<center>Like dart of Annee-meekee.</center>
+<p>Annee-meekee is the Ojibway for the thunder; "dart of"
+consequently is the lightning.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 29, <a href="#page059">page 59</a>.</h4>
+<center>Of whom some fought for him at Copenhagen.</center>
+<p>The majority of the men with Fitzgibbon at Beaver Dam belonged
+to the 49th Regiment, to which Fitzgibbon himself belonged. It was
+also Brock's regiment. He had joined it in 1791 at Barbadoes. The
+regiment being removed to Jamaica, Brock was thence obliged to get
+leave of absence in 1793 on account of his health. On June 24,
+1795, after doing recruiting service both in England and Jersey, he
+purchased his majority. Next year his regiment returned from
+Jamaica, and on the 25th October, 1797, he purchased his
+lieutenant-colonelcy, and soon after became senior
+lieutenant-colonel. In August, 1799, the 49th Regiment was ordered
+to Holland as part of the force under Sir Ralph Abercrombie. On the
+return of the expedition, the 49th was again quartered in Jersey
+until the spring of 1801, when it was despatched with the fleet for
+the Baltic under Sir Hyde Parker. The same year the 49th returned
+to England, and in the next spring was sent to Canada where it took
+up its quarters at York (Toronto). On the flag of the regiment is
+inscribed "Egmont-op-Zee," "Copenhagen," "Queenstown," and its
+colours and appointments bear the word "China" and the device of
+the Dragon.</p>
+<p>Of the career of the 49th Regiment in Canada during the war of
+1812-15, it is impossible to speak too highly. From their
+brilliancy of attack and energy in action the American soldiers
+dubbed them the "Green Tigers," and on the fatal day at Queenston,
+those of the wounded who had passed over "had described the charge
+of the 'Green Tigers' and militia in the morning, and had warned
+them what they might expect if they came in contact with troops
+infuriated by the loss of their beloved General" (Auchinleck, p.
+106.) That the 49th revelled in the honour conferred by such a
+<i>soubriquet</i> is clear from the fact that Fitzgibbon's company
+dubbed themselves "Fitzgibbon's Green 'Uns," and one of them, the
+late Judge Jarvis, of Cornwall, then a cadet of eighteen, says,
+over the <i>nom de plume</i>' "A Green 'Un," in Auchinleck: "We
+were all dressed in green uniform made from clothing which had been
+taken from the enemy."</p>
+<a name="page190"><!-- Begin Page 190 --></a>
+<p>In a private letter to the writer Judge Jarvis says, under date
+<i>Cornwall, 7th November</i>, 1876: "The uniform of the 49th was,
+of course, of a scarlet colour with green facings, rather a light
+green. Around the edges of the cuffs and collar was a band of gold
+lace one inch wide, thus (a drawing is given).</p>
+<p>"The militia had no uniform during the War of 1812; they were
+furnished with a blanket only." At the taking of Fort Detroit the
+militia are generally said to have been in uniform, but these were
+only a few and in the first engagement.</p>
+<p>"The Americans wore coarse grey or blue cloth, mostly the
+former." Homespun; in pursuance of the line of action required by
+the blockade. "One regiment, the Irish Greens, wore dark green
+cloth, but they were not at either Stony Creek or Beaver Dam."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 30, <a href="#page059">page 59</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &mdash;and the Queen's, too,<br>
+ Who loves all nobleness.</td></tr></table>
+<p>Queen Charlotte's intense admiration for all nobility of
+character is well exemplified by Sir Walter Scott in Jennie Deans
+("Heart of Midlothian"), to whom she showed the most marked
+kindness and sympathy. This was but one instance out of many which
+were well known and duly appreciated by the British people.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 31, <a href="#page060">page 60</a>.</h4>
+<center>You, Cummings, mount.</center>
+<p>James Cummings, of Chippewa, was engaged in the Indian trade. He
+accompanied Clark's plucky expedition on Black Rock, when they
+surprised the work, captured the guard together with several stand
+of arms, one brass six-pounder, and a large store of provisions. On
+Bishopp hearing of this exploit, he fired up, "Hang the fellow, he
+has got before me. By Jove, it was well done; we'll try it again."
+And he did, as history tells.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 32, <a href="#page060">page 60</a>.</h4>
+<center>Twelve-Mile Creek.</center>
+<p>"The site of St. Catharines, formerly known as the Twelve-Mile
+Creek or Shipman's Corners, after the oldest inhabitant of the
+place, was first selected as a country residence by the Hon. Robert
+Hamilton, father of the Hamilton who gave his name to the
+flourishing and rising city which still bears it, so early as the
+year 1800, at which period he owned the mills afterwards known as
+the Thomas's Mills, upon the Twelve-Mile Creek, up to which point
+boats at that time ascended. But it was not until after the war,
+viz., in 1816, that the town-plot of St. Catharines was first
+purchased and laid out as a village by the Hon. W. H. Merritt and
+Jonathan H. Clendennen, and received the name of St. Catharines, in
+honour of Mrs. Robert Hamilton, whose name was Catharine."</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">&mdash;<i>Anglo-American
+Magazine</i>, vol. 3, p. 129.</p>
+<a name="page191"><!-- Begin Page 191 --></a>
+<h4>NOTE 33, <a href="#page060">page 60</a>.</h4>
+<center>I have friends beyond.</center>
+<p>These were the household of Miss Tourney, an intimate friend of
+Mrs. Secord, and owner of a large farm some three miles beyond
+Beaver Dam. To this house Mrs. Secord proceeded, accompanied by an
+escort furnished by Lieut. Fitzgibbon, but, it need hardly be said,
+not exactly in the manner described. Here "she slept right off, for
+she had journeyed on foot twenty miles, and safely, God be
+praised." Mrs. Secord returned to her anxious husband on the third
+day after having started on her perilous undertaking, but neither
+through the woods, nor on foot, thanks to her brave deed, and the
+success of British arms.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 34, <a href="#page063">page 63</a>.</h4>
+<center>Ye Yankee rogue! ye coward!</center>
+<p>This incident, which Col. Coffin places as preceding the
+occupation of Beaver Dam by Fitzgibbon, is thus described by Judge
+Jarvis in a letter subsequent to the one already quoted, and which
+was apparently dictated by the awakening of did memories by the
+enquiries that led to the former letter: "Although I write with
+great labour and pain" [the result of rheumatism] "I cannot refrain
+from giving you the following incident. Lieut. Fitzgibbon, who
+always preferred going on any dangerous expedition to sending any
+other person, on receiving the information of the patriotic woman,
+went forward to reconnoitre. On approaching a small tavern two
+American soldiers came out of the door, and immediately presented
+their rifles. He seized the rifles, and crossed them in front of
+his person" [Col. Coffin says: He seized the musket of the more
+advanced man and by main strength threw him upon his fellow, whose
+musket he also grappled with the other hand'] "so that neither
+could fire without shooting his fellow-soldier. Here he held them
+until one of them drew Lieut. Fitzgibbon's sword, and held it up
+over his head, of course intending to stab him forthwith. The woman
+of the house saw the position, and rushed out and seized the sword,
+and got it from the soldier's hand. Fitzgibbon then tripped up one
+of the soldiers and felled the other with a blow, then took them
+both prisoners and marched them into the line occupied by his
+company."</p>
+<p>It is a pity this brave woman's name cannot be discovered in
+order that it might be added to the roll of those patriotic women
+whose names adorn Canadian history.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 35, <a href="#page064">page 64</a>.</h4>
+<center>Lieut.-Col. Thomas Clark.</center>
+<p>Lieutenant-Colonel Clark, of the 2nd Lincoln Militia, was, says
+Colonel Coffin, "a Scotchman by birth." He "was an Indian trader
+and forwarder of goods to the Western hunting grounds; a member of
+the firm of Street &amp; Clark.... From the first outbreak of the
+war Clark was foremost in frontier frail. He had acquired the
+confidence of his men, and obtained the cordial co-operation of
+those who, like Bishopp, understood volunteers, and could
+appreciate the merits of the extemporaneous soldier."</p>
+<a name="page192"><!-- Begin Page 192 --></a>
+<h4>NOTE 36, <a href="#page064">page 64</a>.</h4>
+<center>"But twenty sir, all told."</center>
+<p>These were militia. "Old Isaac Kelly," says Colonel Coffin
+(Chronicles of the War of 1812), "born and raised on 48 Thorold, a
+septuagenarian, hale and hearty, who still [in 1864] lives not a
+mile from the spot, tells how, when he was a boy of eighteen, and
+was in the act of 'hitching up' his horses for the plough, he heard
+the firing in the wood, and outcries of the Indians; how he ran to
+his two brothers, both a-field; how the three got their
+muskets&mdash;they were all militiamen&mdash;men home to put in a
+crop; how, led by the sounds, they crossed the country to the beech
+grove, meeting eight or ten more by the way, suddenly roused, like
+themselves; how, from behind the trees, they opened fire on the
+American train, and on the guns which were then unlimbering to the
+rear, and how the Americans, more worried and bothered than hurt,
+changed their position, and took-up ground in David Millar's apple
+orchard."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 37, <a href="#page064">page 64</a>.</h4>
+<center>Boerstler's lost his head.</center>
+<p>Not altogether without reason. "We frightened the enemy," says
+Judge Jarvis, in a letter before quoted, "with our Indians, and
+from sounding the bugle on different positions to make them suppose
+we were numerous, and had them surrounded."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 38, <a href="#page065">page 65</a>.</h4>
+<center>Terms generous and honourable, sir.</center>
+<p>"Particulars of the capitulation made between Captain McDowell,
+on the part of Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler, of the United States
+Army, and Major De Haren, of his Britannic Majesty's Canadian
+Regiment, on the part of Lieutenant Colonel Bishopp, commanding the
+advance of the British, respecting the force under the command of
+Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler:</p>
+<p>"Article 1.&mdash;That Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler and the
+forces under his command shall surrender prisoners of war.</p>
+<p>"Article 2.&mdash;That the officers shall retain their arms,
+horses and baggage.</p>
+<p>"Article 3.&mdash;That the non-commissioned officers and
+soldiers shall lay down their arms at the head of the British
+column, and shall become prisoners of war.</p>
+<p>"Article 4.&mdash;That the militia and volunteers with
+Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler shall be permitted to return to the
+United States on parole.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">"ANDREW MCDOWELL,<br>
+ "<i>Captain of the United States Light Artillery</i>.</p>
+<p>"Acceded to and signed,</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">"P. G. BOERSTLER,<br>
+ "<i>Lieut.-Col. commanding detachment United States Army</i>.<br>
+ "P. V. DE HAREN,<br>
+ "<i>Major Canadian Regiment</i>."<br>
+<br>
+ &mdash;<i>Auchinleck's History of the War</i>, p. 175.</p>
+<a name="page193"><!-- Begin Page 193 --></a>
+<h4>NOTE 39, <a href="#page065">page 65</a>.</h4>
+<center>The golden epaulettes.</center>
+<p>These were the insignia of a captain's rank in those days, and
+as Major De Haren is made to predict, Lieutenant Fitzgibbon won his
+company by the exploit of Beaver Dam.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>A BALLAD OF 1812.</h3>
+<h4>NOTE 1, <a href="#page070">page 70</a>.</h4>
+<center>Irresolution ruled.</center>
+<p>Proctor's irresolution, timidity, or want of promptness, led to
+many disasters, notably that at Moraviantown, and at length was his
+own destruction.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 2, <a href="#page070">page 70</a>.</h4>
+<center>Our people, by forced parole held.</center>
+<p>James says, "No sooner had the American Army got possession of
+the Niagara frontier [27th May, 1813] than officers with parties
+were sent to every farmhouse and hovel in the neighbourhood to
+exact a parole from the male inhabitants of almost every age. Some
+were glad of this excuse for remaining peaceably at their houses,
+and those who made any opposition were threatened to be sent across
+the river, and thrown into a noisome prison."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 3, <a href="#page072">page 72</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>The substance all too poor and sparse<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Our stinted fields may grow.</td></tr></table>
+<p>The war was declared on the 18th of June, and at once every able
+male in the Provinces sprang to arms. The necessary absence from
+their farms thus forced upon them curtailed the sowing, and
+lessened the harvest, though the women and children of every rank
+did their utmost to countervail the losses thus threatened. The
+next year there was less to sow and less, consequently, to reap,
+notwithstanding the leave granted to the militia at all possible
+junctures, to attend to their work; but intermittent farming is not
+more successful than other occasionally prosecuted labour, and the
+war laid bare many previously fruitful clearings.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 4, <a href="#page073">page 73</a>.</h4>
+<center>Or many-rattled snake.</center>
+<p>An extraordinary danger attended the bite of the rattlesnake in
+the case of a married woman. The Jenny Decow alluded to in Note 23
+had become Mrs. McCall, and while working in the field with her
+husband was bitten. Her husband killed the snake, thinking,
+according to the ideas of the time, that by so doing he should save
+his wife's life; he also sucked the poison from <a name="page194">
+<!-- Begin Page 194 --></a> the wound; but before he had carried
+her to her cottage the foot had burst. An Indian remedy was
+applied, but it was years before she recovered from the effects of
+that bite. In the meantime two children were born, each of whom
+turned spotted and sore, and then died. A third born after her
+recovery was strong and healthy, and grew to manhood.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 5, <a href="#page073">page 73</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Oh, at the mill my brother lies<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Just at the point of death.</td></tr></table>
+<p>This was Mr. Charles Ingersoll, after whom Mrs. Secord named her
+only son. He had been wounded, and lay at St. David's Mill in a
+very precarious condition. He recovered, however, to fight again,
+and to become one of Woodstock's most prominent citizens.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 6, <a href="#page074">page 74</a>.</h4>
+<center>The fritil' butterfly.</center>
+<p>This is the small fritillary, a beautiful little creature that
+may be seen flitting from blossom to blossom, or careering in the
+early summer air in the manner almost of a tumbler pigeon, before
+any other of its kind has left its winter's cradle. It is
+beautifully marked, of a golden brown, and the edges, of the wings
+are bordered with a narrow vandyking of pearly gray.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 7, <a href="#page074">page 74</a>.</h4>
+<center>She hears the wolves' dread bands.</center>
+<p>"Wolves were the pests of the country for many years, and even
+after they were partially expelled by the settlers, they used to
+make occasional descents upon the settlements, and many a farmer
+that counted his sheep by twenties at night would be thankful if he
+could muster half a score in the morning."-<i>See Ryerson's
+Loyalists</i>, p. 246.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 8, <a href="#page075">page 75</a>.</h4>
+<center>Doomed St. David's Mill.</center>
+<p>Auchinleck says, "From the 8th of July" [Chippewa was fought on
+the 4th] "to the 23rd of the month, General Brown, with his
+enormous force, was content to remain without striking a blow,
+unless an occasional demonstration before Forts George and
+Mississaga, or the wanton conflagration of the village of St
+David's, be considered as such."</p>
+<p>Of this atrocity an American officer, a Major McFarland,
+writes:&mdash;"The militia and Indians plundered and burnt every
+thing. The whole population is against us; not a foraging party but
+is fired on, and not infrequently returns with missing numbers.
+This state was to be anticipated The militia have burnt several
+private dwelling-houses, and, on the 19th instant, burnt the
+village of St. David's, consisting of about thirty or forty houses.
+This was done within three miles of camp, and my battalion was sent
+to cover the retreat, as they [the militia] had been sent to scour
+the country, and it <a name="page195"><!-- Begin Page 195 --></a>
+was presumed they might be pursued. My God, what a service! I never
+witnessed such a scene, and had not the commanding officer of the
+party, Lieutenant-Colonel Stone, been disgraced" [he was dismissed
+the service by sentence of a court-martial for this deed] "and sent
+out of the army, I should have resigned my commission."</p>
+<p>This disgust was not caused by any half-heartedness in the war
+on the part of Major McFarland, for he says in the same letter that
+"he desires no better fun than to fight the British troops."</p>
+<h4>NOTE 9, <a href="#page080">page 80</a>.</h4>
+<center>Oh, chief, indeed no spy am I.</center>
+<p>So impossible did it appear to the Indian that a woman should be
+found traversing alone so strongly invested a section of the
+country, that it was with the greatest difficulty Mrs. Secord
+persuaded him of the truth of her story.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 10, <a href="#page082">page 82</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Nay, five and forty, one by one,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Have borne her from the day.</td></tr></table>
+<p>From 1813 to 1860, seven and forty. Five is, however, used as a
+division of equality.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 11, <a href="#page083">page 83</a>.</h4>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>And when from o'er the parting seas,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; A royal letter came.</td></tr></table>
+<p>"When, in 1860, the Prince of Wales was at Niagara, he went to
+see the aged lady, and from her own lips heard the tale; and,
+learning that her fortune did not equal her fame, he sent her, most
+delicately and most gracefully, the sum of one hundred guineas. God
+bless him for <i>that</i>, is the aspiration of every true Canadian
+heart. He is his mother's true son."&mdash;<i>Col. Coffin's
+Chronicles of the War of 1812</i>.</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>JUBILEE POEM.</h3>
+<h4>NOTE 1, <a href="#page084">page 84</a>.</h4>
+<center>Mercy, whose message bore thy first command.</center>
+<p>The first act of the Crown which Her Majesty was called upon to
+perform was the signing of the death-warrant of a soldier who had
+been sentenced to be shot for desertion. The Queen took it keenly,
+and asked the Duke of Wellington if there was no possible plea on
+which the man could be respited: had he <i>no</i> good quality?</p>
+<p>"Your Majesty, he is a very bad soldier, having deserted three
+times; but I believe he is a good husband."</p>
+<p>"Oh, thank you," the Queen replied, and wrote "Pardoned" across
+the document.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page196"><!-- Begin Page 196 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>THE HERO OF ST. HELEN'S ISLAND.</h3>
+<h4>NOTE 1, <a href="#page086">page 86</a>.</h4>
+<p>This touching incident, bright example as it is of that fine
+sense of duty that has built up the renown of the British Army, is
+related in his charming volume, "The Emigrant," by Sir Francis Bond
+Head. The author, in introducing it, says: "In the different
+regions of the globe it has been my fortune to visit, I have always
+experienced great pleasure in pausing for a few minutes at the
+various spots which have been distinguished by some feat or other
+of British enterprise, British mercy, British honesty, British
+generosity or British valour.</p>
+<p>"About the time I was in Canada a trifling circumstance occurred
+on the breaking up of the ice, which I feel proud to record.</p>
+<p>"In the middle of the great St. Lawrence there is, nearly
+opposite Montreal, an island called St. Helen's, between which and
+the shore the stream, about three quarters of a mile broad, runs
+with very great rapidity, and yet, notwithstanding this current,
+the intense cold of winter invariably freezes its surface.</p>
+<p>"The winter which I am speaking of was unusually severe, and the
+ice on the St. Lawrence particularly thick; however, while the
+river beneath was rushing towards the sea, the ice was waiting in
+abeyance in the middle of the stream until the narrow fastness
+between Montreal and St. Helen's should burst, and allow the whole
+mass to break into pieces, and then in stupendous confusion to
+hurry downwards towards Quebec." The story follows, and in winding
+up the account Sir Francis says: "Colour-Sergeant William Delaney,
+and Private George Morgan, of the 24th Regiment now at Chatham,
+were eye-witnesses of the above occurrence."</p>
+<p>The dangers Sergeant Neill so bravely encountered are thus
+graphically depicted by Sir Francis B. Head on p. 42 of the same
+volume, in describing the breaking up of the ice of the River
+Humber, a stream not a tenth of the length or breadth of the St.
+Lawrence, so that the scene bears but a slight comparison to that
+witnessed on the larger river. "... As soon as the great movement
+commenced, these trees and the ice were hurried before my eyes in
+indescribable confusion. Every piece of ice, whatever might be its
+shape or size, as it proceeded, was either revolving horizontally
+or rearing up on end until it reeled over; sometimes a tree
+striking against the bottom would rise slowly up, and for a moment
+stand erect as if it grew out of the river; at other times it
+would, apparently for variety's sake, stand on its head with its
+roots uppermost and then turn over; sometimes the ice as it
+proceeded would rise up like a house and chimneys, and then rolling
+head over heels, sink, leaving in its place clear water.</p>
+<p>"In a few hours the turmoil was completely at an end, the
+torrent had diminished, the stream had shrunk to its ordinary
+limits, and nothing. remained to tell of the struggle." (<i>See</i>
+also <a href="#appendices">Appendix</a>.)</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page197"><!-- Begin Page 197 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>LIVINGSTONE.</h3>
+<h4>NOTE 1, <a href="#page101">page 101</a>.</h4>
+<center>Snatched by the hand of God his groaning millions.</center>
+<p>The representations by Livingstone of the terrible condition
+among the inland peoples of Africa by slavery, tribe enslaving
+tribe, people making war upon people for the sake of prisoners to
+be sent to the slave market, and the horrors endured by the poor
+wretches, thus given over to a fate worse than death, by the greed
+of the Arabian and certain white merchants of the coast, led to
+action on the part of the British and other Governments, which has
+done much to break up the inhuman traffic, and will never cease
+"till that wide wound be healed."</p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>THE SWEET GIRL GRADUATE.</h3>
+<h4>NOTE 1, <a href="#page122">page 122</a>.</h4>
+<p>This little comedy appeared in <i>Gripsack</i> for 1882, and was
+written at the request of the editor of <i>Grip</i>, who was, and
+is, in full sympathy with all efforts to secure the rights of
+women. At that date the Council of University College had refused
+to entertain the application of ladies to be admitted to the
+lectures of University College, and that such an adventure with its
+<i>denouement</i> did not become a fact is only to be credited to
+the wisdom that, on further consideration, withdrew the objection,
+for history affords many instances of woman's use of a disguise in
+order to attain her wishes, and the annals of co-education furnish
+numerous proofs of her equality with, and not unfrequently her
+superiority to, her rivals of the other sex in competitive
+examinations.</p>
+<h4>NOTE 2, <a href="#page127">page 127</a>.</h4>
+<center>To think that down in Canterbury, girls.</center>
+<p>The circumstance here so mournfully quoted by Kate was a fact.
+The University of Canterbury, New Zealand, was open alike to men
+and women. The examination papers used were prepared by Cambridge
+University (England) on the same standing as their own, and were
+returned to Cambridge for adjudication thereon. In 1881 a lady took
+the degree of B.A., the first in the world, and was invested with
+the hood with some <i>eclat</i>.</p>
+<a name="page198"><!-- Begin Page 198 --></a>
+<h4>NOTE 3, <a href="#page136">page 136</a>.</h4>
+<center>Who in this city form a ladies' club.</center>
+<p>The Toronto Women's Literary Club, incepted by Dr. Emily H.
+Stowe, of Toronto, and meeting at her house from 1876 until its
+resolution into the Canadian Women's Suffrage Association in 1883,
+was responsible for the public agitation of the right of women to
+admission to University College; and also for the circulation of
+the petition to that end, which, by the kind help of many of
+members of the Legislature, won from the Provincial Parliament a
+recommendation to the Senate of the University that women should be
+admitted. Several of the leading fourth year men of 1882 offered
+their assistance in circulating the petition among the students;
+and the greatest sympathy was shown by educators in every part of
+the Dominion.</p>
+<hr>
+<a name="page199"><!-- Begin Page 199 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h2><a name="appendices">APPENDICES.</a></h2>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <a name="page200"><!-- Begin Page 200 --></a> <a name="page201">
+<!-- Begin Page 201 --></a>
+<h3><a name="appendix1">APPENDIX NO. 1.</a></h3>
+<p>[The following account of 13th Oct., 1812, written by
+Lieut.-Colonel Evans, of the Eighth or King's Regiment, Acting
+Brigade-Major to the Forces at that date, will be read with
+interest, and is doubly valuable as being a piece of well-attested
+history.]</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">GOVERNMENT HOUSE, Fort George. Oct.
+15, 1812.</p>
+<p>After dinner on the evening of the 11th inst., Major-General
+Brock handed me a note from Captain Dennis, commanding flank
+companies of the 49th Regiment at Queenstown. After perusing its
+contents, which were of an alarming nature, setting forth the
+highly mutinous state of his detachment, his men having
+deliberately threatened to shoot their officers, etc., the General
+said, "Evans, you will proceed early in the morning and investigate
+this business, and march, as prisoners, in here, half-a-dozen of
+those most culpable, and I will make an example of them. You can
+also cross the river and tell Van Rensellaer I expect he will
+immediately exchange the prisoners taken in the <i>Detroit</i> and
+<i>Caledonia</i> [two vessels coming from Amherstburgh cut out by
+Americans whilst at anchor at Fort Erie] for an equal number of
+Americans I released after the capture of Detroit."</p>
+<p>I reached Queenstown early in the morning of the 12th, and
+finding many of the grenadier company confined, and the guard-house
+gutted, and Captain Dennis himself in apparent alarm at the state
+of things, I proposed proceeding at once to select those most
+prominent, for example. At this juncture, however, and when about
+leaving Hamilton's house [Captain Dennis' quarters] a scattered
+fire of musquetry from the American shore took place, and on a
+musket ball entering the room passing betwixt us, I inquired with
+surprise the meaning of such unusual insolence. Captain Dennis
+stating the practice to have existed more or less for some days,
+insomuch as to render ingress by the river door hazardous, I deemed
+it fitting first to cross the river, desiring Captain Dennis would
+prepare his men against my return. On passing along the river bank
+for Mr. T. Dickson, the enemy kept up an incessant fire of
+musquetry till I entered that gentleman's house, but happily
+without mischief. I now begged Mrs. Dickson kindly to, prepare a
+white handkerchief as a flag of truce, asking Mr. Dickson, who was
+a Captain of Militia, would he accompany me across the water; he
+had no objection, but both Mrs. Dickson and all present urged the
+danger of any attempt to cross, convinced as they were, in the
+enemy's then temper, the flag would not be respected. Feeling
+<a name="page202"><!-- Begin Page 202 --></a> this to be no time
+for discussing about personal safety, I took Dickson by one hand
+and the flag in the other, then descending the precipitous steep to
+the water's edge, we launched our frail canoe amidst an unsparing
+shower of shot which fell all around us; nor did the firing cease
+till the canoe, become quite unmanageable, tossed about in the
+waters of the strong eddies; when, as if struck by shame at his
+dastardly attempt to deter us from our purpose the enemy gave the
+signal to cease fire. I was thus relieved (and enabled) on
+approaching the shore to observe more calmly all that was passing.
+On touching the ground, with water in the leaky canoe ankle deep, I
+was about, as was my custom, leaping ashore, when a sentinel from a
+guard brought to the spot, came to the charge with fixed bayonet,
+authoritatively commanding me not to leave the boat. To my enquiry
+for Colonel Solomon Van Rensellaer, (the Adjutant-General) with
+whom I usually conferred, I was told he was sick. I then stated
+having an important message from General Brock for their Commander,
+which if inconvenient for their General to receive from me
+personally, I begged an official person might be immediately
+deputed to convey it to him. After some delay, Mr. Toock, the
+General's Secretary, made his appearance, but his reply to General
+Brock's request being abrupt, and as I thought somewhat
+significant, "that nothing could be done till the day after
+to-orrow," I ventured to remind him of General Brock's liberality
+towards their people which the fortune of war had thrown into his
+hands, entreating that he would again consult his General, and
+enable me to carry to mine something more satisfactory. In
+compliance, as he stated, with my wishes, but as it appeared to me,
+more with the intent to consume my time, rendered precious from its
+being after midday, he detained me in my miserable position for
+more than two hours, and then returned expressing the General's
+regret "that the prisoners having been marched for Albany they
+could not instanter be brought back, but that might assure General
+Brock with his respects that all should be settled to their mutual
+satisfaction the day after to-morrow." I was now too anxious to
+depart to wish the parley prolonged, my mind being quite made up as
+to the enemy's intentions, and to the course it was most fitting
+for me to pursue under the circumstances. It had not escaped me
+that their saucy numbers had been prodigiously swelled by a horde
+of half-savage troops from Kentucky, Ohio and Tennessee, which
+evidently made it hazardous for their northern countrymen to show
+their accustomed respect for a flag of truce from a foe; but my
+most important discovery was their boats slung in the sides or
+fissures on the river bank covered only by the brush, with indeed
+many decided indications that an attack on our shores could not be
+prudently delayed for a single day. Under such impression the first
+thing on reaching our own side was the removal by Mr. Dickson of
+his family from his own house on the beach, the very site of the
+prospective struggle, and giving note of preparation to the few
+militia which, with the 49th flank companies, were all the
+immediate disposable force for the defence of Queenstown. Aware of
+the imminence and magnitude of the danger, the lateness of the
+hour, after <a name="page203"><!-- Begin Page 203 --></a> three
+p.m., and distance from Fort George, Headquarters more than six
+miles, I hesitated not assuming the responsibility of liberating
+all the 49th prisoners, on the specious plea of their offence
+proceeding from a too free indulgence in drink, appealing to them
+for proof of their loyalty and courage, which they were assured
+would be severely tested ere another day dawned. Then, after a
+rapid but effective arrangement of the several points requiring
+attention, seeing to the re-supply of fresh ammunition, and
+infusing all the spirit and animation in my power to impart, I left
+Captain Dennis, exhorting his utmost diligence in keeping his
+charge on the alert for repelling the enemy's attempt, which I
+foresaw would not be deferred. Having to put the many posts on the
+line of communication on the <i>qui vive</i>, although I rode at
+full speed, it was past six p.m. ere I reached Fort George, and
+then from having been exposed for thirteen hours, under much
+anxiety, to wet feet and extreme heat, without refreshment of any
+kind, I was so exhausted as to be unequal to further immediate
+effort. Refreshed, I narrated to General Brock all that had
+occurred, the precautionary steps I had taken, and the
+responsibility I had assumed as to the 49th prisoners, which, under
+the stated circumstances, I trusted he would approve, and at once
+authorize my making preparations for coming events, so
+indispensably required. The General evidently doubting at first,
+hesitated, but seeing my earnestness in rebuking his attendants of
+charging my being over-sanguine, and chagrin at their proffered
+bets against my predictions, he became unusually grave, desired I
+would follow him to the office, where at his request I succinctly
+recapitulated the day's occurrences, adding my solemn conviction
+that a moment was not to be lost in effectually preparing for
+defence.</p>
+<p>The General now thanked me, approved of all that I had done,
+and, returning to the dining room, directed officials to be
+immediately written and despatched by Provincial Dragoons, calling
+in the militia of the vicinity that same evening, those more
+distant to follow with all alacrity. I was directed to make all
+requisite preparations at Headquarters. In this work I was busied
+till near eleven p.m., with but few converts, however, to my
+convictions, when, worn down by fatigue, I stretched myself on my
+mattrass. After a slumber of a few hours I was aroused by a distant
+cannonade soon after two a.m., 13th October, but without surprise,
+well knowing the quarters where the ominous sound came. The General
+who, himself, had all in readiness at once mounted his horse and
+proceeded for the post attacked. His Aides-de-Camp were awoke, and
+soon followed. Major-General Sheaffe, second in command, assumed
+charge at Headquarters, but the impression on General Brock's mind
+being that the attempt at Queenstown would prove only a feint to
+disguise his (the enemy's) real object from the creek in rear of
+Fort Niagara, his apparent wish was that whilst all were held in
+readiness to act in any quarter, no decisive movement by the troops
+should take place till the enemy's intentions were fully developed.
+The Indians and regular Artillery were, however, promptly
+despatched, and the <i>elite</i> of the 41st with an equal
+   <a name="page204"><!-- Begin Page 204 --></a> number of
+   well-drilled militia flank companies ready to follow on the
+   first summons. As the day dawned, the scouts I had sent out
+   reporting no symptoms of hostile movement in the quarter
+   indicated, these troops all proceeded at double quick for the
+   succour of Queenstown, the debouching of the head of which
+   column on the main road appeared to be the signal for opening a
+   brisk cannonade from Fort Niagara on the troops, the town, and
+   Fort.</p>
+<p>Soon after, the news of the gallant Brock's unhappy fall reached
+us, which, by necessarily removing General Sheaffe to Queenstown,
+the command at Fort George devolved on me as next senior officer.
+At this moment the scene around was awfully discouraging, the gaol
+and court house were suddenly wrapped in flames, which as
+containing many political prisoners, I at first imagined the act of
+an incendiary, but other buildings soon appearing in a similar
+state of conflagration left me no longer in doubt as to the new
+enemy of hot shot with which we had to grapple, and its easy
+distance, on wooden edifices I foresaw, must be attended with very
+destructive effect. Luckily, a <i>posse</i> of militia-men had now
+come in, which I distributed in separate bodies, collecting all the
+water-buckets and requisite implements from the inhabitants of the
+town.</p>
+<p>This arrangement, though in part effective, from the energy and
+courage displayed in extinguishing the flames as they occurred, I
+felt to be insufficient in itself for our security; selecting
+therefore, all the old veteran militia artillerymen with two
+intelligent staff non-commissioned officers of the 41st, by bending
+our whole efforts to the attainment of one object, we at length
+succeeded in stopping the mischief by diminishing and crippling the
+enemy's guns, but not before he had burnt to the ground many
+buildings, amongst the number, beside the gaol and court house, the
+Chief Engineer's quarters; the more important ones, however, the
+"Royal Barracks," "Block House," "King's Stores" and other public
+buildings, though repeatedly fired were, by steady and untiring
+intrepidity, preserved. Thus temporarily relieved, I was enabled to
+attend to Capt. Derinzy's (commanding 41st Batt.) note, from which
+it appeared, he found on arriving at Queenstown, the enemy in
+possession of the opposite heights, and our heavy one-gun battery
+there:&mdash;that the enfilading on our side, too distant from the
+landing to be quite effective&mdash;then protected by his
+division&mdash;had been powerfully aided by Capt. Holcroft, of the
+Royal Artillery, who, unmindful of consequences, boldly dashed his
+gun through the valley into Hamilton's court-yard within point
+blank range, thus succeeding in sinking some of the enemy's crowded
+boats and damping the ardour of his troops for crossing. Seeing his
+critical position Capt. Derinzy had sustained him by a party of the
+41st Regiment. He briefly mentioned that the spirited Brock finding
+on his arrival the 49th grenadiers and militia, though resolutely
+defending the landing-place, hard pressed, had called to their aid
+the 49th light company from the Height's summit, the key of the
+position. The enemy, profiting by this step, moved unperceived
+about 150 men&mdash;and over a precipitous steep it was deemed
+impracticable for a human <a name="page205">
+<!-- Begin Page 205 --></a> being to ascend&mdash;who suddenly
+appeared to the astonished General just on the mountain summit, and
+the next instant in possession of the redoubt, putting its
+defenders to the sword. The gallant spirit of Brock, ill brooking
+to be thus foiled, with a courage deserving a better fate, hastily
+collected the weak 49th company and a few militia; debouching from
+a stone building at the mountain's brow, with these little bands,
+he spiritedly strove to regain his lost position, but in which
+daring attempt he was killed by a rifle ball entering under the
+left breast, passing out by the right shoulder. Capt. Williams by
+taking a wider range, made a second effort, but as the result
+proved with too inadequate a force, the A.D.C. (McDonell), being
+mortally wounded and Capt. Williams' head partially scalped by a
+rifle ball.</p>
+<p>These circumstances convinced me General Sheaffe would be more
+circumspect than attack without a concentration of every disposable
+man. Under such impressions, after first despatching Lieutenant
+McIntyre, 41st Regiment, with about 140 men of his regiment and
+militia, and afterwards Wm. Martin with every regular soldier and a
+few active militia from Fort George, I hastened to forward, at all
+hazards, the most active of the men from the many posts on the line
+of communication. On starting those from Young's Battery, the
+enemy, as though by signal, re-opened his cannonade from Fort
+Niagara on Fort George and the town. However mortified by this
+unlooked-for occurrence, prudence required that whilst sending our
+whole effective force to Queenstown, Fort George and its
+dependencies should not be neglected, for what with the alien and
+prisoners in the Block House, with those set at liberty by firing
+the gaol, their number was little short of 300, with but a few raw
+militia left for their security, or that of the fort or town. I
+was, therefore, left no alternative but to gallop back and
+ascertain the enemy's power for further mischief. Well it was that
+I did so, for on reaching the gate of Fort George, I met a crowd of
+the militia with consternation in their countenances, exclaiming
+the magazine was on fire. Knowing it to contain 800 barrels of
+powder, with vent side-walls, not an instant was to be lost.
+Captain Vigoreux, of the Engineers, therefore, at my suggestion,
+was promptly on its roof, which movement was with alacrity followed
+by the requisite number of volunteers, when by the tin being
+stripped off the blazing wood was extinguished. Thus was confidence
+reassured. The enemy, taking advantage of a bend in the river, had
+brought a battery with hot shot to enfilade the barracks, magazine
+and King's stores, and despite all our efforts to dislodge him he
+had effectively consumed the store-houses with all the lower
+buildings, and repeatedly set on fire the barracks and magazine.
+Our success was perfect: the enemy's fire being again silenced and
+the necessary precautions taken to avert future disaster, I made
+another effort to reach Queenstown, when I met Captain Chambers,
+41st Regiment, with the glad tidings that General Sheaffe, by a
+spirited and judicious movement away to his right, and crossing the
+vale high up with his collected forces, had approached&mdash;as to
+ground&mdash;his enemy on more favourable terms, and that his
+operations had <a name="page206"><!-- Begin Page 206 --></a>
+resulted in the enemy's complete destruction. But, for the details
+of this brilliant success I must refer to the despatches of the
+distinguished officer who, with his gallant troops, achieved
+it.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">(Signed) THOMAS EVANS,<br>
+ <i>Brigade-Major to the Forces</i>.</p>
+<p>[The statement made above by Lieut.-Col. Evans that in the 49th
+were still smouldering the fires of the insubordination that Brock
+himself had summarily dealt with several years before, is as
+remarkable as it is painful to those who would fain think a
+regiment famed for its brave achievements in so many engagements,
+and to which Brock had belonged for many years, could not be guilty
+of anything so disgraceful as is insubordination. It must, however,
+be remembered that of all duties, garrison duty is most trying to
+the soldier, and to these men, the greater part of whom were
+veterans who had fought at Bergen-op-Zoom and Copenhagen, where
+they had acted as marines, anything approaching to the spirit of
+the martinet in their superior officers must have been very
+galling.</p>
+<p>To this want of tact on the part of certain officers is
+attributed, by those who have enquired most carefully into the
+matter, the uncomfortable state of the gallant 49th at and before
+the epoch of the war.</p>
+<p>Even Brock himself was tired of garrison life at such a stirring
+time at home, and had applied for active service in Europe, and
+Major-General Sheaffe had actually been appointed to his offices,
+both civil and military, when the declaration of war by President
+Madison gave him the employment he was looking for.]</p>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>APPENDIX NO. 2.</h3>
+<p>[From the other end of the Niagara Frontier comes an equally
+interesting account of that notable day&mdash;the 13th Oct., 1812,
+that of Lieutenant Driscoll of the 100th Regiment. (See Ryerson's
+"Loyalists of America and their Times." Vol. 2, pages 36-81.)]</p>
+<p>"I was stationed at Fort Erie on the memorable 13th Oct., 1812.
+At daybreak, having returned with my escort as visiting rounds,
+after a march of about six miles in muddy roads through the
+forests, and about to refresh the inward man after my fatiguing
+trudge, I heard a booming of distant artillery very faintly
+articulated.</p>
+<p>"Having satisfied myself of the certainty of my belief, wet and
+fatigue were no longer remembered; excitement banishes these
+trifling matters from the mind; and I posted off to my commanding
+officer to report the firing, now more audible and rapid.</p>
+<p>"I found my chief, booted and spurred and snoring&mdash;lying,
+as was his wont, on a small hair mattrass on the floor in his
+barrack room, which boasted of furniture, one oak table covered
+with green baize, a writing desk, a tin basin containing water and
+a brass candlestick, which had planted in it a regulation
+mutton-dip, dimly flickering its last ray of light, paling before
+the dawn, now making its appearance through the curtainless
+window.</p>
+<a name="page207"><!-- Begin Page 207 --></a>
+<p>"The noise I made on entering the Major's sleeping and other
+apartment awoke him. As he sat up on his low mattrass he said,
+'What is the matter?' 'Heavy firing down the river, sir.' 'Turn the
+men out.' 'All under arms, sir.' 'That'll do.'</p>
+<p>"By this time he was on his legs&mdash;his hat and gloves on.
+His hutman was at the door with his charger, and his spurs in his
+horses' flanks in an instant&mdash;leaving the orderly, hutman, and
+myself to double after him up to the fort, some hundred yards
+off.</p>
+<p>"As we reached it, the men were emerging through the gate in
+measured cadence, and we were on our way to the batteries opposite
+the enemy's station at Black Rock.</p>
+<p>"Before we reached our post of alarm the sun was up and bright.
+We had not assumed our position long before an orderly officer of
+the Provincial Dragoons rode up, and gave us the information that
+the enemy were attempting to cross at Queenston, and that we must
+annoy them along the whole line, as was being done from Niagara to
+Queenston, by any and every means in our power short of crossing
+the river. Everything was ready on our part. The enemy all appeared
+asleep, judging from the apparent quiet that prevailed on their
+side the river.</p>
+<p>"The command to annoy the enemy was no sooner given than bang!
+bang! went off every gun that we had in position.</p>
+<p>"Now there was a stir. The enemy's guns were in a short time
+manned, and returned our fire; and the day's work was begun, which
+was carried on briskly the greater part of the day on both sides of
+the Niagara.</p>
+<p>"About two o'clock, another Provincial Dragoon, bespattered,
+horse and man, with foam and mud, made his appearance, not wearing
+sword or helmet.</p>
+<p>"Said an old Green Tiger to me: 'Horse and man jaded, sir;
+depend upon it he brings bad news.' 'Step down and ascertain what
+intelligence he brings.' Away my veteran doubles, and soon returns
+at a funeral pace.</p>
+<p>"Light heart, light step," were my inward thoughts. I knew by
+poor old Clibborn's style of return something dreadful had
+occurred. 'What news, Clibborn? What news, man? Speak out,' said I,
+as be advanced towards the battery that was still keeping up a
+brisk fire. Clibborn walked on, perfectly unconscious of the balls
+that were ploughing up the ground, uttered not a word but shook his
+head.</p>
+<p>"When in the battery the old man sat down on the platform; still
+no word, but the pallor and expression of his countenance indicated
+the sorrow of his soul.</p>
+<p>"I could stand it no longer. I placed my hand on his shoulder.
+'For Heaven's sake, tell us what you know.' 'In choking accents he
+revealed his melancholy information: 'The General is killed; the
+enemy has possession of Queenstown Heights.'</p>
+<p>"Every man in the battery was paralyzed; the battery ceased
+firing.</p>
+<p>"A cheer by the enemy from the opposite side of the river
+recalled us to our duty. They had heard of their success down the
+river. Our men, who <a name="page208"><!-- Begin Page 208 --></a>
+had in various ways evinced their feelings&mdash;some in weeping,
+some in swearing&mdash;some in mournful silence&mdash;now exhibit
+demoniac energy. The heavy guns are loaded, traversed and fired, as
+if they were field pieces.</p>
+<p>"Too much hurry for precision. 'Take your time, men; don't throw
+away your fire, my lads.' 'No, sir, but we'll give it to them hot
+and heavy.'</p>
+<p>"All the guns were worked by the 49th men of my own company, and
+they wished to avenge their beloved chief. Brock, whom they knew
+and valued with that correct appreciation peculiar to the British
+soldier. They had all served under him in Holland and at
+Copenhagen.</p>
+<p>"I had a very excellent reconnoitering glass; and as I kept a
+sharp lookout for the effect of our fire, and the movements of the
+enemy, I observed that powder was being removed from a large wooden
+barrack into ammunition waggons. The only man of the Royal
+Artillery I had with me was a bombardier, Walker. I called his
+attention to the fact I had observed, and directed him to lay a gun
+for that part of the building wherefrom the powder was being taken.
+At my request he took a look through my glass, and, having
+satisfied himself, he laid the gun as I ordered. I, with my glass,
+watched the spot aimed at. I saw one plank of the building fall
+out, and at the same instant the whole fabric went up in a pillar
+of black smoke, with but little noise, and it was no
+more&mdash;horses, waggons, men and building all disappeared; not a
+vestige of any was to be seen.</p>
+<p>"Now was our turn to cheer; and we plied the enemy in a style so
+quick and accurate that we silenced all their guns just as a third
+dragoon came galloping up to us, shouting 'Victory! Victory!' Then
+again we cheered lustily, but no response came from the other side.
+Night now hid the enemy from our sight.</p>
+<p>"The commissariat made its appearance with biscuit, pork, rum
+and potatoes, and we broke our fast for that day about nine
+p.m.</p>
+<p>"How strange and unaccountable are the feelings induced by war!
+Here were men of two nations, but of a common origin, speaking the
+same language, of the same creed, intent on mutual destruction,
+rejoicing with fiendish pleasure at their address in perpetrating
+murder by wholesale, shouting for joy as disasters propagated by
+the chance of war hurled death and agonizing wounds into the ranks
+of their opponents! And yet the very same men, when chance gave
+them the opportunity, would readily exchange, in their own peculiar
+way, all the amenities of social life, extending to one another a
+draw of the pipe, a quid or glass; obtaining and exchanging
+information from one and the other of their respective services, as
+to pay, rations, etc., the victors with delicacy abstaining from
+any mention of the victorious day. Though the vanquished would
+allude to their disaster, the victors never named their
+triumphs.</p>
+<p>"Such is the character of acts and words between British and
+American soldiers, which I have witnessed, as officer commanding a
+guard over American prisoners.</p>
+<p style="text-align: right;">"JAMES DRISCOLL,<br>
+ "<i>Of the 100th Regiment</i>."</p>
+<a name="page209"><!-- Begin Page 209 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>APPENDIX NO. 3.</h3>
+<p>[Lieutenant-Colonel Bishopp was a son of Sir Cecil Bishopp,
+Bart., afterwards Lord de la Zouche. He was an accomplished
+gentleman. He had served in the Guards. Had represented Newport, in
+the Isle of Wight, in Parliament. Had been attached to a Russian
+embassy. Had served with distinction in Flanders, in Spain, in
+Portugal and died full of hope and promise in Canada, gallantly
+"doing his duty," and not without avail, for his example still
+lives.]</p>
+<p>"At two a.m. on the morning of the 11th July, 1813, accompanied
+by Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas Clark, and Lieutenant James Cummings
+(both of the Lincoln Militia), backed by about 240 men&mdash;200
+being regulars, and forty of the 2nd and 3rd Lincoln Militia,
+Bishopp swooped down upon Black Rock, the American naval depot on
+the River Niagara.</p>
+<p>"The assault was a success; the work of destruction of the naval
+stores, chiefly by sinking them in the river, was complete. But
+Porter's force was aroused, and a speedy retreat on the part of
+Bishopp necessary. The men re-embarked unmolested, and Bishopp was
+the last to retire. Scarcely had they left the bank when the
+Indians who had crawled to the top commenced to fire. Part of
+Bishopp's men were landed and drove the enemy back into the
+woods.... Bishopp was everywhere commanding, directing, getting his
+men off. In the confusion of the moment some of the oars of his own
+boat were lost, and she drifted helplessly down stream exposed to
+an ever-increasing fire. Here Bishopp received his death-wound. He
+was borne back to his quarters, where, in a few days he expired at
+the early age of twenty-seven. 'Never was any officer, save always
+the lamented Brock, regretted more than he was.' His remains lie
+beneath a modest monument erected to his memory by the pious care
+of his sisters, the Baroness de la Zouche and Mrs. Pechall, in the
+churchyard at Lundy's Lane."&mdash;<i>Coffin's Chronicles</i>.</p>
+<p>A tablet to his memory is also to be seen at the family
+burial-place, Parham, Sussex, England, with the following
+epitaph:&mdash;</p>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>"His pillow&mdash;not of sturdy oak;<br>
+ His shroud&mdash;a simple soldier's cloak;<br>
+ His dirge will sound till Time's no more&mdash;<br>
+ Niagara's loud and solemn roar.<br>
+ There Cecil lies&mdash;say where the grave<br>
+ More worthy of a Briton brave?"<br></td></tr></table>
+<p>[Lieutenant-Colonel (afterwards General) Evans, Brigade Major,
+was one of the most valuable officers of the War of 1812. His cool
+head, sound judgment, energy, and capability in administration made
+him a tower of strength to his superiors, all of whom at various
+times, took an opportunity of testifying to his merits.]</p>
+<p>On the 17th August, 1812, the day after the surrender of
+Detroit, General Brock wrote to him:&mdash;</p>
+<p>"Dear Evans,&mdash;Detroit is ours, and with it the whole
+Michigan Territory, the American Army Prisoners of War. The force
+you so skilfully prepared <a name="page210">
+<!-- Begin Page 210 --></a> and forwarded at so much risk, met me
+at "Point au Pins" in high spirits and most effective state. Your
+thought of clothing the militia in the 41st cast-off clothing
+proved a most happy one, it having more than doubled our own
+regular force in the enemy's eye. I am not without anxiety about
+the Niagara with your scanty means for its defence, notwithstanding
+my confidence in your vigilance and admirable address in keeping
+the enemy so long in ignorance of my absence and movements, etc.
+(Signed) I. BROCK."</p>
+<p>There is no need here to allude to the events of the 13th
+October, 1812, at Fort George, since they are given in Lieut.-Col.
+Evans' own account of that day, to be found at <a href=
+"#appendix1">Appendix No. 1</a>, and show that his Generals had
+good reason for the esteem in which they held him. Suffice it to
+say that in the despatches of General Sheaffe from Queenstown; of
+General Vincent from Burlington Heights; of Deputy Adjutant-General
+Harvey, Burlington Heights, with reference to the successful attack
+on Forty-mile Creek by a wing of the 8th or King's Regiment under
+Lieut-Col. Evans; of General Riall, after Chippawa, Fort Erie, and
+Lundy's Lane; and of General Drummond, after Lundy's Lane,
+Lieut.-Col. Evans is always mentioned with special approbation. And
+the same feeling is evident in the public prints of the day,
+notably the London <i>Gazette</i>, the official organ, as well as
+in histories of the war.</p>
+<p>Previous to his removal to Canada with his regiment, Lieut.-Col.
+Evans had been officially connected with the Government of
+Gibraltar in 1802, at the time that the Duke of Kent, as Governor,
+was trying to introduce some much-needed reforms, by doing which he
+brought a hornet's nest about his ears. In this affair the Royal
+Duke was ably backed by his subordinate, and in 1826, when
+Lieut.-Col. Evans was applying for a staff situation in Canada, his
+Royal Highness gratefully supported his request.</p>
+<p>Brigade-Major Evans' local rank throughout the War of 1812 was
+that of Lieutenant-Colonel.</p>
+<p>General Evans was an Englishman of Welsh ancestry. He married a
+daughter of Mr. Chief Justice Ogden, of Three Rivers, and after
+occupying several important appointments, returned to Canada, dying
+in Quebec in February, 1863, and was buried with military honours.
+His body was afterwards removed to Three Rivers, and lies by the
+side of his wife.</p>
+<p>Major R. J. Evans, now resident in Toronto, to whom I am
+indebted for the above particulars, as also for the valuable paper
+to be found elsewhere, is a son of General Evans.</p>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>APPENDIX NO. 4.</h3>
+<p>Guests from the 'Royal' stroll frequently to the grassy ramparts
+of old Fort George, whose irregular outlines are still to be traced
+in the open plains which now surround it. Here landed in 1783-84,
+ten thousand United <a name="page211"><!-- Begin Page 211 --></a>
+Empire Loyalists who, to keep inviolate their oaths of allegiance
+to the King, quitted their freeholds and positions of trust and
+honour in the States to begin life anew in the unbroken wilds of
+Upper Canada.</p>
+<p>"History has made us somewhat familiar with the settlement of
+Nova Scotia and New Brunswick by the expatriated Loyalists. Little
+has been written of the sufferings and privations endured by 'the
+makers' of Upper Canada.</p>
+<p>"With the present revival of interest in American history, it is
+singular that writers do not awaken a curiosity about the Loyalists
+of the Revolution. Students and specialists who have investigated
+the story of a flight, equalled only by that of the Huguenots after
+the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, have been led to admire the
+spirit of unselfish patriotism which led over one hundred thousand
+fugitives to self-exile. While the Pilgrim Fathers came to America
+leisurely, bringing their household goods and their charters with
+them, the United Empire Loyalists, it has been well said, 'bleeding
+with the wounds of seven years of war, left ungathered the crops of
+their rich farms on the Mohawk and in New Jersey, and, stripped of
+every earthly possession, braved the terrors of the unbroken
+wilderness from the Mohawk to Lake Ontario.'"&mdash;<i>Jane Meade
+Welsh, in Harper's New Monthly for August</i>, 1887.</p>
+<p>"1812&mdash;like the characters on the labarum of
+Constantine&mdash;is a sign of solemn import to the people of
+Canada. It carries with it the virtue of an incantation. Like the
+magic numerals of the Arabian sage, these words, in their
+utterance, quicken the pulse, and vibrate through the frame,
+summoning from the pregnant past memories of suffering and
+endurance and of honourable exertion. They are inscribed on the
+banner and stamped on the hearts of the Canadian people&mdash;a
+watchword rather than a war cry. With these words upon his lips,
+the loyal Canadian, as a vigilant sentinel, locks forth into the
+gloom, ready with his challenge, hopeful for a friendly response
+but prepared for any other. The people of Canada are proud of the
+men, and of the deeds, and of the recollections of those days. They
+feel that the War of 1812 is an episode in the story of a young
+people, glorious, in itself and full of promise. They believe that
+the infant which, in its very cradle, could strangle invasion,
+struggle and endure bravely and without repining, is capable of a
+nobler development, if God wills further trial."&mdash;<i>Coffin's
+Chronicles of the War, Chapter I., preamble</i>.</p>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>APPENDIX NO. 5.</h3>
+<p>[Mr. Le Moine, in "Quebec Past and Present," states that slavery
+was finally abolished in Canada in 1803.] "Near Fort George, less
+than a century ago, stood the first Parliament House of Upper
+Canada&mdash;a building rude in comparison with the massive pile,
+the Bishop's Palace, used for a similar purpose at Quebec&mdash;but
+memorable for one at least of the many liberal laws <a name=
+"page212"><!-- Begin Page 212 --></a> its homespun representatives
+enacted. Here, seventy years before President Lincoln's
+Emancipation Proclamation, the first United Empire Loyalist
+Parliament, like the embattled farmers at Concord, 'fired a shot
+heard round the world.' For one of the first measures of the exiled
+patricians was to pass an act forbidding slavery. Few readers know
+that at Newark&mdash;now Niagara, Ontario&mdash;was enacted that
+law by which Canada became, not only the first country in the world
+to abolish slavery, but as such, a safe refuge for the fugitive
+slaves from the Southern States."&mdash;<i>Jane Meade Welsh, in
+Harper's New Monthly, August</i>, 1887.</p>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>APPENDIX NO. 6.</h3>
+<p>[The Twenty-fourth or Second Warwickshire Regiment, now the
+South Wales Borderers, is of ancient and gallant fame. On its
+colours are inscribed "Egypt," "Cape of Good Hope," "Talavera,"
+"Fuentes d'Onor," "Salamanca," "Vittoria," "Pyrenees," "Nivelle,"
+"Orthes," "Peninsula"&mdash;a goodly show.]</p>
+<p>To us, perhaps, the claims of the Regiment upon our admiration
+are eclipsed by those upon our pity when we remember the terrible
+disaster of Isandula in 1879, when six companies of the Regiment
+were cut to pieces, and as it was at first feared, the colours
+lost. But it was not so; several companies of the 1st Battalion had
+fought in the victorious affair of Rorke's Drift the day before,
+and "Lieutenant Bromhead" says the <i>Daily News</i> of Feb. 21,
+1879: "1st Battalion, 24th Regiment, and Lieutenant Chard, R.E.,
+left in charge of the Drift with a company of the 24th Regiment,
+first received intimation of the disaster [at Isandula] from
+fugitives making for the Drift. Lieutenant Coghill with others rode
+away to communicate with Helgmakaar, and were killed by Zulus in
+crossing the river."</p>
+<p>With Lieutenant Coghill was Lieutenant Melville carrying the
+colours. The company holding the Drift was annihilated by the
+on-rushing savages, and no tidings of the colours could be gained
+until some days after when, behind a mound, were found the bodies
+of the two brave Lieutenants, one of whom grasped the pole with
+hands stiffened in death and around the other the precious flag was
+wound, "safe on the heart of a soldier."</p>
+<p>The following touching lines will be welcome to the lover of
+noble deeds; it is to be regretted that the name of the poet cannot
+also be given:&mdash;</p>
+<center>THE LOST COLOURS.</center>
+<table align="center" summary="poem positioner">
+<tr>
+<td>Who said we had lost the Colours?<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Who carried the tale away.<br>
+ And whispered it low in England,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; With the deeds of that awful day?<br>
+ The story was washed, they tell us,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Freed from a touch of shame&mdash;<br>
+ Washed in the blood of those who died.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Told in their sacred name.<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="page213"><!-- Begin Page 213 --></a> But they said we had
+lost the Colours,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And the Colours were safe, you see;<br>
+ While the story was told in England,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Over the restless sea.<br>
+ They had not the heart to blame us.<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; When they knew what the day had cost;<br>
+ But we felt the shame of the silence laid<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; On the Colours they thought were lost.<br>
+<br>
+ And now to its farthest limit<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; They will listen and hear our cry;<br>
+ How could the Colours be lost, I say,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; While one was left to die?<br>
+ Safe on the heart of a soldier,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Where else could the Colours be!<br>
+ I do not say they were found again,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; For they never were lost, you see.<br>
+<br>
+ Safe on the heart of a soldier,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Knotted close to his side,<br>
+ Proudly lie on the quiet breast,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Washed in the crimson tide!<br>
+ For the heart is silent forever,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Stirred by no flitting breath,<br>
+ And the Colours he saved are a fitting shroud,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And meet for a soldier's death.<br>
+<br>
+ What more would they know in England?<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; The Colours were lost, they said;<br>
+ And all the time they were safe, of course,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; Though the soldier himself was dead.<br>
+ The band was stiff, and the heart was cold<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; And feeble the stalwart limb;<br>
+ But he was one of the Twenty-fourth,<br>
+ &nbsp;&nbsp; So the Colours were safe with him.</td></tr></table>
+<p>The following which appeared in the Toronto <i>World</i>,
+Saturday, July 16, 1887, will also be found of interest to those
+whose sympathies have been awakened by the poem:</p>
+<center>"NO LONGER THE TWENTY-FOURTH."<br>
+<br>
+ <i>How the Heroes of Isandklwana came to be called South Wales
+Borderers</i>.</center>
+<p>"In the London <i>Graphic</i> there have appeared lately several
+good articles headed 'Types of the British Army,' with excellent
+full-sheet coloured cuts, by eminent artists, of men in marching
+order or otherwise belonging to the corps on which the article is
+written. The last one is in the <i>Graphic</i> of April 30, being
+the fourth to appear, and the picture represents a soldier of the
+gallant 24th Regiment. Much has been said by old officers and
+soldiers in the press relative to the abolition of the
+time-honoured numbers of the old corps, and now this splendid old
+regiment is no longer the 24th, but since 1881 is called the 'South
+Wales Borderers.' And not only did the historical old <a name=
+"page214"><!-- Begin Page 214 --></a> number disappear from the
+Army List, according to the new system, but they lost their green
+facings, and now wear the white, which all regiments, English and
+Welsh, according to the territorial system, have to wear. The Irish
+wear green, the Scotch yellow, and all Royal regiments wear blue.
+The Artillery and 60th Rifles have red facings, and the Rifle
+Brigade black. Corps on the line now go by territorial titles.
+First and second battalions and many old regiments are joined to
+other old corps which formerly had nothing whatever to do with the
+county or province from which they now derive their title." In
+connection with this a former captain in the 46th writes to the
+Montreal <i>Witness</i> as follows:</p>
+<p>"It may be interesting to many to know the reason why regiments
+now bear their new titles; and, as the writer was intimately
+acquainted with the 24th before the fearful calamity at
+Isandhlwana&mdash;where they were annihilated in 1879 by the
+Zulus&mdash;and was stationed with them in Brecon, South Wales, he
+can give the rather curious origin of their present title.</p>
+<p>"Some time before the Zulu campaign, there were many sweeping
+changes made in the army, amongst them being the abolition of
+numbers, and an order was issued that all members of militia,
+yeomanry and volunteers at home should have their adjutants
+appointed from officers serving on full pay with the regiments of
+cavalry or infantry, and that the artillery, militia and
+volunteers, should have their adjutants from the Royal Artillery or
+Marine Artillery; the appointment to last for five years, and at
+the expiration of that time the officer to return to his corps, and
+another one to succeed him. The writer was at that time adjutant of
+the 46th Regiment, and the first to be thus appointed to the Royal
+Brecon Rifles, South Wales&mdash;a small corps of only four
+companies. There was another smaller corps of only two companies in
+the adjoining county, Radnorshire, and, perhaps for economy's sake,
+it was ordered that both of these corps should be made one
+regiment. Each wanted to retain its old militia designation, but it
+was decided by the officers to give them a totally new one, and
+they were christened the 'South Wales Borderers.'</p>
+<p>"Brecon was made a depot centre, and the 24th Regiment were to
+recruit and have their depots there. Being then without a title
+they took that of the local militia, and are, therefore, now the
+'1st and 2nd Battalions South Wales Borderers.' But they will
+always be known as the time-honoured 24th, who lost one colonel,
+one major, four captains, fourteen lieutenants and seven entire
+companies, including band, buglers and drummer boys, at
+Isandhlwana. Lieutenants Melville and Coghill, on that occasion,
+seeing that all was lost, attempted to save the colours. Melville
+was first hit, and Coghill turned back to share his fate. The
+colours were afterwards found in the bed of the Buffalo River, and
+when brought home Her Majesty tied a small wreath of immortelles on
+the staff head at Osborn. They are still in the possession of the
+regiment, and the wreath presented by Her Majesty is preserved in a
+handsome hermetically-sealed oak box, mounted in silver."</p>
+<a name="page215"><!-- Begin Page 215 --></a> <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<h3>APPENDIX NO. 7.</h3>
+<p>[In his "La Litt&eacute;rature au Canada Fran&ccedil;ais" M.
+Bender says of M. L. Pamphile Le May:]</p>
+<p>"Le May sings in a clear and tender voice, reminding one of
+Alfred de Vigny, and approaching the elegance and polish of that
+poet.... In words of melody he celebrates the beauties of rural
+life and scenery. He is touching, pleasing and sympathetic. He
+knows his subject well; he has seen it, he has felt it, he has
+loved it; indeed he yields too much to inspiration, and does not
+sufficiently finish his verse, nor does he fully develop his idea
+so as to reap all its wealth.... His creations evince originality
+and beauty of form." In his preface to "Essais Po&eacute;tiques,"
+published 1865, M. Leon P. Le May tells his readers that his
+friends discouraged him in his worship of the Muse; they said
+verse-making did not pay, that it cost a man too much to devote
+himself to an art so little esteemed. But he sang nevertheless, and
+Canadian literature in the French language is the richer by much
+that is sweet, tender, beautiful and inspiring. We ought to thank
+M. Le May for being wiser than his advisers; and such of us as have
+not yet considered Canadian Literature worthy of especial regard
+would do well to hunt up the numerous volumes that lie all but
+unknown upon booksellers' shelves, and convince themselves that
+there is a field of intellectual enjoyment open to them of which
+they may be justly proud to be the heirs.</p>
+<br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+ <br>
+
+<hr>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Laura Secord, the heroine of 1812.
+by Sarah Anne Curzon
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAURA SECORD, THE HEROINE OF 1812. ***
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