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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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