"They rose in dark and evil days
To right their native land;
They kindled here a living blaze
That nothing shall withstand.
* * * * *
"Then here's their memory--may it be
For us a guiding light,
To cheer our strife for liberty,
And teach us to unite."
--John Kells Ingram.
When at length the two maidens started forth in the early afternoon they
found that the news of the victory at the Cowpens was upon every tongue.
The streets were filled with an eager, joyous crowd of people, all
discussing the intelligence with mingled emotions of incredulity and
delight. Slumbering patriotism awoke to new ardor, and despairing hearts
thrilled anew with hope. From the depths of discouragement the pendulum
swung to the other extreme, and all sorts of brilliant achievements were
prophesied for the army in the South under Greene.
"How soberly they take the news," observed Harriet as they passed a
group of men who were quietly discussing the event. "See how gravely,
almost sadly, those men are talking. In London we make a great ado when
our soldiers win a victory."
"But those are Friends, Harriet. See, thee can tell by their drab
clothes and low, broad-brimmed beavers. And being such are therefore
neutral. Neutrals do not rejoice at a Continental victory any more
than--than some other people," she added with roguish insinuation. "Those
who are not of the sect are hilarious enough. Of a truth it doth seem as
though their gladness verged on the unseemly."
"That's just it," said the other accusingly. "You, and I doubt not many
others in this city of Penn, think the least bit of exuberance a sin."
"It hath not been so of late, Harriet. Indeed it doth seem as though,
since thy people held the city, that we would never regain our old
peacefulness."
"I liked New York better than this," went on the English girl peevishly.
"There was so much more gayety."
"But we are considered the more intellectual," spoke Peggy quickly, who
could not bear to hear the least aspersion against her beloved city.
"'Tis often commented upon by those who come among us. Shall we turn
into High Street, Harriet? Or does thee prefer to keep down Chestnut?"
"High Street by all means, Peggy. I think it would be the finest street
in the world if it were not for the markets in the middle of it."
"Does thee?" cried Peggy much pleased. "Why, I thought thee didn't like
Philadelphia?"
"I do like the city. The streets are so broad and regular, and these
footways are like those we have in London. 'Tis the people that are not
to my liking." The girl sighed.
For a moment Peggy could not answer for indignation; then, choking back
a crushing retort, she replied sagely:
"The people are well enough, Harriet. 'Tis thy feeling which is not
right. Thee certainly has the megrims to-day."
"Is not that Mr. Morris's house?" asked Harriet as they reached the
southeast corner of High and Front Streets.
"Yes," replied Peggy gazing mournfully at the mansion indicated. "'Twas
there also that General Arnold lived when he had charge of the city. I
went there to one of his teas, Harriet. The city rang with his prowess
at that time. Next to General Washington I liked him best of any of our
generals, though I like not to speak of him now. Thy general, Sir
William Howe, lived there when thy people held Philadelphia."
"Ah!" said Harriet surveying the residence more intently. "So that is
where he lived, is it? 'Tis a fine dwelling."
"Mr. Morris hath made many improvements since he bought it, though it
hath always been considered one of the best in the city," Peggy informed
her.
"He is very rich, isn't he, Peggy?"
"He is said to be, Harriet, and is, I doubt not. He hath such great
skill in financial matters that 'tis no wonder. The Congress hath put
him in charge of the nation's finances, I hear, and many hope that he
will put our money upon a firm basis. He hath already been of great
service to the patriots in advancing money, and he hath advised many of
our people concerning investments. 'Tis owing to him that mother hath
prospered of late," concluded the girl warmly. "See the vessels,
Harriet."
They had turned now into Front Street, and stopped to look at the broad
river filled with ice-floes. Out of the long length of the street upward
of two hundred quays opened, forming so many views terminated by vessels
of different sizes. There were three hundred at the time in the harbor
disputing possession with the huge cakes of floating ice.
"And when the British left in '78 they left us not one bark," went on
Peggy after they had stood for a moment in silence.
"I wonder," spoke Harriet musingly, "I wonder why England doth not send
a great fleet over here to ravage this entire seaboard? If all these
large towns could be so attacked at one time the revolted colonies would
be conquered at once, and an end put to the rebellion."
"It would not conquer us," declared Peggy stoutly. "I have heard some
say that with General Washington at their head they would retire beyond
the mountains, and fight from there. Thee can never conquer us,
Harriet."
Harriet made no reply, and they resumed the walk toward Poole's Bridge.
A throng of promenaders, skaters and sliders filled the banks and glided
over the smooth ice of Pegg's Run, as the extensive marsh which lay
beyond the high table-land north of Callowhill Street was called.
This high waste ground had some occasional slopes down which some
hundreds of boys were coasting. The whole area was a great ice pond on
which it seemed as though all the skating population of Philadelphia had
congregated. The city had long been preëminent in the sport. At this
time her skaters were considered the most expert and graceful in the
world, and the girls soon became absorbed in watching them as they
mingled together and darted about, here and there.
"Are there none but boys and men?" questioned Harriet presently.
"'Tis not esteemed delicate for females to skate," Peggy informed her.
"Though," she added lowering her voice instinctively, "we girls of the
Social Select Circle used to slip off where none could see, and practice
it. Sally Evans got so skilled that she excelled in the 'High Dutch,'
and I could cut my name on the ice, but alas for Betty Williams. She
could hardly stand on her skates, and we were always having to help her
up from a tumble."
"Is thee talking about me, Peggy?" demanded a voice, and Peggy gave a
little cry of welcome as she turned to find Betty Williams standing
behind her. "Hasn't thee anything better to do than to tell of thy
friends' failings? And what is this I hear? That the express from the
Cowpens is staying at thy house? Is he friend of thine? What luck thee
has, Peggy."
"Thou shalt come and meet him for thyself, Betty. Yes; he is an old
friend, Lieutenant John Drayton. Surely thee remembers hearing me speak
of him?"
"A lieutenant? Charmante! I dote on army men," cried Betty rapturously.
"I remember now about him. Does thee know him also, Harriet?"
"Yes," answered Harriet curling her lip. "He is a pretty fellow enough,
and will never swing for the lack of a tongue. Lieutenant Drayton is no
favorite of mine, though Peggy and her mother are fond of him."
"Yes; mother and I are fond of him," spoke Peggy with some sharpness,
quick to resent a slur against one of her friends. "Perhaps he is
deficient in the court manners to which my cousin hath been accustomed,
but he treats even an enemy with courtesy, and thee has had no cause to
complain of him, Harriet. Would that he could say as much for thee."
"Where was his courtesy when I asked him to return that shirt?" demanded
Harriet. "A true courtier would not have kept it after I had expressed a
wish for its return."
"Thee should not have presented it if thee did not wish him to keep it."
"What ever are you girls talking about?" demanded Betty with eager
inquisitiveness. "Tell me all anent the matter. What shirt? Tell me this
minute else I will perish with curiosity. That is, if 'tis no secret.
"Oh!" she cried merrily as with some laughter and many details both
Harriet and Peggy unfolded the matter of the shirt. "Oh, Harriet! what a
rout! I blame thee not for not liking him. How he discomfited thee! I'm
so anxious to meet him. Does thee know Robert Dale, Harriet? We girls
have always esteemed him the very nicest boy in the world. By the way,
Peggy, father wrote that Robert hath been put in General Lafayette's
division. The Select Corps 'tis called. 'Tis monstrous distinction."
"How?" asked Harriet. "I know him not though it seems as though I
should, I have heard so much anent him. How is the Select Corps
distinctive?"
"As though thee did not know," cried Betty incredulously. "Had I spent
as much time with both armies as thee and Peggy have there would be
naught about anything military that I did not know. But, for fear that
the Select Corps is the one thing lacking in thy knowledge of camp, I
will tell thee that its members are taken from the whole army for the
active part of a campaign. The Select Corps is always in advance of the
main army, and has the right to make the first attack on the enemy. 'Tis
of vast distinction to be of it, and Robert must have proved himself
valorous else he would not have been honored by being placed in it."
"But 'tis a position of danger as well as honor, Betty," remarked Peggy.
"If Mr. Washington does no more fighting than he hath done for the past
few years your Robert Dale will be in no danger," observed Harriet, who
was certainly in a bad mood for the day.
"Oh, as to that," retorted Betty airily, "we manage to get in a victory
often enough to keep up our spirits. Really, Harriet, I do wish thee
could meet Robert."
"And I wish that you both could meet my brother, Clifford," cried
Harriet. "Why, none of the youths in the rebel camp at Middlebrook could
compare with him in looks. He is so handsome, and noble, and brave. Oh,
I do wish that I could see him!" she ended, a pathetic quaver coming
into her voice.
"Thee has not seen him since thee came to America, has thee?" asked
Betty. Peggy, whose gentle heart was touched by the feeling her cousin
exhibited, forgot how trying she had been, and pressed her hand
tenderly.
"No, Betty. He left home soon after father came to join General Gage in
Boston. When we were in New York City father had Sir Henry Clinton to go
over the rosters of the different regiments to see if we could locate
him, but we could find no trace of him. I did not mind so much until
since I have been ill, but now I want to see him so much."
"Does he look like Cousin William, Harriet?" asked Peggy.
"No; he is more like your father than mine. Father says that Cousin
David is like my grandfather, and Clifford is the living representative
of the picture of grandfather."
"If he is like father he must be all that thee claims for him," spoke
Peggy warmly. "I should dearly like to see him, Harriet, and perhaps
thee will hear of him soon. If he is in this country anywhere with the
British army thee will surely hear of him in time. Don't grieve."
"If thee does find him I hope that he will come to Philadelphia,"
laughed Betty, who had put up her hair and adopted young lady airs. "I
like nice boys, be they English or American."
"Or French," put in Peggy slyly. "I've heard that thee takes a lesson
each morning from one of the aides of Monsieur de la Luzerne, the French
minister. Thee needs to be dealt with, Betty."
"Peggy Owen, Sally hath been telling thee tales out of school," cried
Betty, her face flushing. "When did thee see her?"
"A hit! A hit!" laughed Peggy. "How thee mantles, Betty. Know then that
I stayed with Sallie last night, and thereby increased my knowledge as
to several matters. She said----"
"I must be going," uttered Betty hastily. "Good-bye, girls. Come and see
me, Harriet, but leave thy cousin at home."
She darted away before Peggy could call out the merry retort that rose
to her lips. Then the maiden turned to Harriet.
"And 'twould be wise for us to go too, Harriet," she said. "The air
begins to grow chill, and thee must not take cold. See! many of the
skaters and promenaders are leaving, and soon there will be none left. I
did not know that 'twas so late. Is thee tired?"
"No; I believe that the walk hath done me good," answered Harriet, who
did look better. "Still I feel a little cold. Let us walk fast, Peggy."
Recrossing the bridge they left the gay throng and started briskly down
the narrow footway of Front Street. Suddenly the clatter of hoofs was
heard, and the maidens turned to see a party of American horse
approaching from the direction of Frankford. They were riding at speed,
and the girls drew close to the curb of the walk to see them pass. As
the dragoons drew near they saw that they were escorting a number of
British prisoners.
"Hath there been another battle?" asked Harriet, growing pale.
"I think not," answered Peggy. "There is always an express to tell of
it, if there hath been, before the prisoners come. These are not from
the Cowpens, Harriet. They could not be, and come from that direction."
"True," said Harriet. "I wonder if the main army hath engaged with our
troops? Oh, I like not to see our men made prisoners!"
Peggy made no reply, and in silence the two watched the troopers. As
they came opposite to the place where the maidens stood one of the
prisoners, a young fellow, leaned over and said something to the trooper
next him. Then, with a light laugh he turned his face full upon them,
and lifted his hat with jaunty grace.
As he did so Harriet sprang forward with an amazed cry:
"Clifford! Clifford! Clifford!"