as deliberately as if travelling his usual Sabbath-day journey. I would gladly have dispensed with his services, but my father's cool and slow self-possession had returned, and no deviation from his will was to be thought of.

I should have remarked that my mother was absent on a visit to my married sister, so that I was spared the trial of bidding her farewell, which would, bo doubt, have been a very different affair from the parting with my father.

We had cleared the lane, and gained the main road towards Boston. I was devising expedients for quickening the pace of the Tory beast, as in my heart I had called him, when we met our worthy and revered pastor, Mr. Forbes. He paused as we drew near. My musket and knapsack-and probably my countenance too, though I am sure my father's would not-informed him whither we were bound. When one all-absorbing idea is present, conversation, as far as it relates to it, can be carried on at small expense to words.

"So, John, you are going to fight the battles of God and your country."

"Yes, sir, I'm going to try," I replied, etiquette forbidding the use of any of the expletives that rose to my lips, in the presence of a minister.

"Well, may the blessing of the God of battles go with you, John. But remember, John, when you are away from your minister and your father, that you are not away from God. Remember,” and the old man's eyes filled with tears as he gazed upon me-he closed them, and for a few seconds was engaged in mental supplication, then bestowing a "God bless you!" upon me, he passed on, as if unwilling to delay us from such an errand. This meeting passed in a minute, but the impression that it left on my mind has lasted for many a year, and was far deeper than if he had bestowed a lengthened lecture, to which I am sure he would not have found a very patient listener. But the good man knew always what to say, and when to say it; in this respect differing widely from some of his sacred profession that I have fallen in with in the evening of my days. Whatever improvements there may have been made in other things, I am free to say that the breed of our ministers has not improved. The fact is, they could not be much better than they were in those days, much as they are now sometimes ridiculed by ungrateful blockheads, who are enjoying the liberty which the ministers of that day, quite as much as any other class of men, aided to secure.

The distance from my native place to Boston was about fourteen miles. My father left me to perform the latter half of the distance on foot; his parting advice was brief: "Farewell, John, you know your duty; and mind what Mr. Forbes said to you.”

I arrived at the camp before nightfall, somewhat exhausted by

the haste I had made during the latter half of the way. I sought the company to which my companions belonged, and entered it as a volunteer. My friends had not taken part in the engagement, but were full of enthusiasm in consequence of the events of the day.

One very dark night we were called out, and formed with the utmost stillness. With the object of the movement we were not acquainted. Hence our fancy had free scope during the half-hour we were drawn up, and commanded, in a whisper, to remain perfectly silent. We supposed, of course, that an attack was either expected or designed. Not a few of us, notwithstanding our love of country, I suspect were led to compare a good bed at home with the prospect of a bloody one on the night plain.

I have never been oppressed with a sense of fear; indeed, I may say, I have ever borne the character of a brave man ; but I frankly confess, that I heartily wished for daylight, that I might see where I was going; and I believe it is true universally, that men will fight better in the daylight than by night, although the smoke be so dense as to hide all objects from view as effectually as if it were night. There is something about night that I do not understand.

But to my story. After standing about half an hour, our muskets were taken from us, and spades, pickaxes, &c., distributed. We then breathed more freely, and the injunction to entire silence was not so perfectly obeyed as before. We were then marched to what was called the Neck, for the purpose of erecting a fort. This point was fully within the reach of the enemy's guns, hence a dark night was naturally chosen for the work, and the strictest silence enjoined. Arrived on the ground, we found an abundance of dry cedar rails, and with these we proceeded to build huge fires to supply the lack of daylight. Whether this originated with the soldiers or officers I know not; it is certain that it was not forbidden by the latter. When they were well on fire, and all around us was illuminated, we began to break ground. But we were very unceremoniously interrupted by a thundering volley of cannon balls from the enemy. It had not occurred to our sapient officers that the same light that was serviceable to us, would be so to the enemy's artillery. But so it was. Orders were then given to put out the fires. It was done with great promptness; a cannon ball now and then aiding us in scattering the rails.

I have in my latter days heard a great deal about the stimulants of industry, but I give it as the result of my ohservation, that nothing is equal to a cannon ball for this. Men will work when cannon balls are whizzing around them in a way difficult to describe, The rails on this occasion flew as if the power of gravitation were for the ocaasion, totally suspended.

I recollect another occasion when the same stimulus worked ad

mirably. It was at the battle of White Plains. We were in a trench, and about ten rods in advance was a stone wall. When it appeared that the enemy were about to advance to storm our lines, (a brisk fire of cannon balls being sent to clear the way,) a party were sent out to throw down the wall, that it might not prove a shelter to the advancing foe. I never saw stones handled as those were. I am clear in the opinion that cannon balls are the greatest possible stimulants to industry. But I forget my narrative.

When the lights were extinguished, we were drawn off behind a small descent, where, by lying down, we were out of reach of the enemy's balls. We had just begun to realize that the whistling of balls was not so destructive, after all, and to make ourselves merry at the enemy's waste of ammunition, when a cross fire that swept the bottom of the hill was opened upon us. The first shot took effect, and killed four men in my vicinity. Orders were given to retreat, and the ground was soon cleared, without further loss. We gained the camp, and listened, with no small degree of composure, to the sound of the enemy's artillery. It is surprising, the difference in the sound of a piece when you are, or are not, within range. In the one case the sound is pleasant enough; in the other it is by no means the most agreeable music in the world. The British continued to plough up the said Neck until broad daylight showed them what they were about. In fact, it did present the appearance of ploughed land. 66 My stars," said honest Job Eaton, "if it has not cost the King nigh on tew hundred dollars to plough that 'ere piece; I'd ploughed it with my oxen for five."

We were so much more courageous by daylight, that we went down to the Neck for ball, and there were picked up nine hundred and sixty, of various sizes. Occasionally field pieces were discharged at us, but without effect.

During the winter we lay on Dorchester heights; I cannot say that I was as comfortable and contented as I might have been in my father's house. I was, however, indulged with frequent visits home, and often received from thence tokens of remembrance and regard. Still a barrack is not one's father's house, and our troops were becoming more of soldiers and less of citizens. The distinction between mine and thine became less distinctly marked, and a growing looseness of morals in other respects led me to look with less enthusiasm on a soldier's life.

Still our company was in the main correct in their deportment, the instructions of Mr. Forbes having sunk deep into our hearts. Once or twice the old man paid us a visit, to the no small joy of our hearts and increase of his influence. Oh, could I see such ministers now, I would be content that their salaries be raised by law; yea, that they should liberally have tithes of all. The fact is, the old fashioned ministers of those days did more to make patriotic,

industrious, frugal and honest men than all other things put together. And I will here say, that it does not become a democrat to ridicule and abuse them: for they were the first supporters of the democratic principle. The puritans were the first and fast friends of the people.

A notable personage in our company was "Sergeant John," a fullblooded Indian. He had served as a private among the "eightmonths men," but refused to enlist again till the title of sergeant was promised him. His rank was merely nominal. He received the title at roll-call, and was content. He was regular in the discharge of his duties as a soldier; but held no communion with a soul in the company. In summer he never slept in the tent with his mess, but in the open air; and in winter he chose a retired though cold corner of the barrack. The tenor of his thoughts neither I nor any body else could ever learn.

On two occcasions I owed my life to Sergeant John. At the battle of Long Island, as we were retreating towards the famous Mill Dam, I received a shot in my foot that put an end to my progress. My fellow-townsmen passed me by, but Sergeant John pla ed me on his shoulder, and succeeded in crossing the dam before the heat of the burning mill became so intense as to cut off further passage. The mill had been fired to prevent the enemy from crossing.

I was an inmate of the hospital for some time, and joined my company just before New York was given up. After my recovery I could get no nearer Sergeant John than before. He continued to live in the solitude of his own originality.

When we lay at White Plains, Sergeant John and myself, with about twenty others, were stationed as a guard in a clearing, about three-fourths of a mile in advance of the lines. So far as I could judge, we were placed there for the express purpose of being shot or captured by the first stray party of British that might come that way. The woods were so thick on every side that we could see nothing unless within the limits of the clearing. The whole British army might have passed us without our knowledge.

It was our fortune to be captured by a party of light-horse, just after sunset. We were entirely surrounded before we knew itwhich I looked upon as fortunate, since it saved a few lives—our own included-whose loss would in no way have affected the for tunes of the war. The capture was not indeed a very glorious one, nor was my curiosity to examine the enemy's camp, and their accommodations for prisoners, very great. Still, small as it was, it was in a fair way to be gratified.

As we were marched off I had instinctively placed myself by the side of Sergeant John, who took his capture very composedly, as though it was a matter of indifference to which camp he directed

his steps. He soon managed to attract my attention, and enjoined silence by a gesture that escaped the observation of our captors. As it began te grow dark we passed along the ridge of a steep bank or ledge. On the very brink a thick growth of cedar bushes concealed its depth, or rather its height, from view. Here John leaped over the bushes down the bank, bidding me to follow him, which I instinctively did, and found myself about thirty feet nearer the centre of gravity than my captors. It was emphatically a leap in the dark. As I gathered myself up I saw my companion standing with a drawn knife in his hand. A few shots were fired from above; but the darkness concealed us from view: and presently two who had dismounted sprang down the ledge in pursuit-but both received the Indian's knife before they could regain their feet. We next heard a number set off at full speed, and concluded their de sign was to reach us by some other point of descent. My companion seized my arm, and we set off in the direction of the coming horsemen. A few paces brought us to a stream of water, its banks closely lined with trees. John plunged into the water, and crawled beneath the projecting roots of a tree. This was a way of concealment not at all congenial to my habits; but cold water is preferable to cold lead, so I was fain to plunge in. I was soon in the arms of John, who counteracted the tendency of my body to rise to the surface, and gave me a breathing hole amid the roots of the tree.

It was altogether an uncomfortable place; but then it was the best quarters we could get. We soon heard horsemen approaching, -whereat the water felt decidedly warmer. They passed us, but did not return, as Sergeant John seemed to expect. I say seemed, for not a word did he speak during the whole of that night, which was the longest one known, according at least to my experience, during the revolutionary war. Not till just before day-break did we leave our bath. I sometimes suspected that John was asleep, but found that all attempts to extricate myself were vain. When we did emerge, I was unable to walk. John placed me on his shoulders, and we reached the American camp in safety. A fever was the consequence, but then it was better to have a fever among one's friends than in a prison-ship.

Another exploit of Sergeant John, one that caused him to be promoted to the rank of Ensign by vote of the company, though he still retained the rank of Sergeant on the roll, it may be well to relate. While the two armies lay at White Plains, our soldiers used to pass, by a circuitous route, beyond the enemy's line, for what purpose I hardly remember. It was, however considered as a sort of exploit; and hence became a rather frequent practice. On one occasion a party, of which Sergeant John was one, passed the night in the rear of the enemy, at the house of a Dutchman, who professed