"Great were the hearts, and strong the minds,
Of those, who framed, in high debate,
The immortal league of love, that binds
Our fair, broad Empire, State with State.
* * * * *
"That noble race is gone; the suns
Of years have risen, and set;
But the bright links those chosen ones
So strongly forged, are brighter yet."
It was late that night when Drayton returned.
"No," he said in answer to Harriet's eager questioning. "I found him
not. I went to both the old and the new jails, but he was in neither. In
fact, no prisoners have been received for some days. I then made the
rounds of the taverns, but no such party was stopping at any of them.
There was but one trace to be found: some of the loungers about the inns
said that a party of horse was seen in the late afternoon riding toward
the lower ferry. I will inquire in that direction to-morrow. 'Tis not
customary to travel at night with prisoners, unless the need is urgent.
I wonder that a stop for the night was not made in the city."
The dragoons had passed through the city, as the lieutenant found the
next day; and, crossing the Schuylkill at Gray's Ferry had gone on to
the Blue Bell Tavern, putting up there for the night. They were up and
away early the next morning.
"Then how shall I find him?" queried Harriet as Drayton imparted this
information to her. "Lieutenant, you are an officer in the army; tell me
how to find my brother. I ought not to ask this of you, I know. I
haven't always been kind or pleasant, but if you will only help me in
this, I'll--I'll----Peggy, help me to plead with him."
"There is no need to plead, mistress," responded he quickly. "If I can
be of service to you, it will be a pleasure. I will do what I can to
find him. If he is an officer the task will be much easier. If I hear
aught concerning him I will send you word at once. 'Twas said at the
Blue Bell that the party was for the South, and if so, it may be that I
shall overtake it. I leave to-morrow if the despatches of Congress are
ready."
"So soon?" exclaimed Peggy in dismay. "Why, thee came but yesterday,
John."
"A soldier's time is never his own, Peggy. It hath been delightful to
have even these few days. After the hard marching of the past weeks 'tis
like an oasis in the desert to tarry in a real home. From all I hear we
are likely to be on the move for some time to come. 'Twas openly talked
in camp, before I left, that 'twas our general's plan to draw my Lord
Cornwallis as far from his base of supplies as possible. If that be true
we shall do naught but march for some time to come. This is a good rest
for me."
"If thy stay is so short then we must see that 'tis made as pleasant as
possible," declared Mrs. Owen. And from that moment the three, for
Harriet threw off her depression and was once more the charming girl
that she had been at Middlebrook, devoted themselves so successfully to
his entertainment that Drayton declared that it was well that he had a
horse to carry him away; for he would never leave of his own volition.
"It hath been delightful," he reiterated as he was about to depart. "I
doubt that 'tis good for me to have so much pampering. 'Twill give me a
desire to play the messenger at all times, and make me long for comforts
that are not to be found in camp, or on the march. You shall hear from
me soon, Mistress Harriet. Even though I should not overtake your
brother and the dragoons still you shall have word of it."
With that he was gone. Life with its duties resumed its accustomed
routine at the Owens' dwelling with the exception that Harriet seemed
much improved. The interest in her brother was the thing needful to
arouse her, and she daily gained in strength. The two horses, Star and
Fleetwood, were brought from the stables, and the girls with Tom as
groom again rode whenever the weather was pleasant. And so a week
passed. February was folded away in the book of years, and March was
upon them; but if Drayton had overtaken the horsemen on his way South
they had received no word.
"How warm the sun is," exclaimed Harriet as she and Peggy were returning
from a long ride on the first of the month. "Were it not that I might
receive word from Lieutenant Drayton about Clifford, I would suggest
that we turn about and go on to Chestnut Hill. It would be pleasant to
be out all afternoon."
"Nay," demurred Peggy. "The distance to Chestnut Hill makes it not to be
thought of. Besides, dinner is at two, and mother wished us to be home
in time for that. Though it is pleasant."
It was pleasant. The storm month had begun his sway with the mildness of
the proverbial lamb. The air held just enough of keenness to be bracing,
and the sky was blue with the blueness of May. There was the promise of
spring in the woods. The almost dead silences of winter had disappeared.
The song of the occasional robin was heard; the flutter of wings, and
the almost silent noises of the trees and thickets, evidenced in the
swelling buds of the bare branches.
The Germantown road was a favorite ride with them, and this day they
stopped often to exclaim over the spaciousness of the landscape which
the leafless trees admitted to their view.
"Do you think that I will hear to-day, Peggy?" asked her cousin
wistfully after one of these stops.
"I know not, Harriet. John will let thee know as soon as he can, for he
promised. I would not think so much anent it, if I were thee. What is
the saying? 'A watched pot never boils.' Is not that it?"
"I can't help it, Peggy. If Clifford were not a prisoner I would not
care so much. Just as soon as I find where he is I must try to secure
his release. I know that Sir Henry Clinton would get him exchanged if I
should ask it. I will write to him."
Instantly Peggy was troubled. She feared Harriet's activities. The
council of the state was alert and watchful, and would tolerate no
communications of any sort with the enemy. In fact, several women, wives
and relatives of Tories in New York and other points within the British
lines, had recently been arrested for this very fault. So it was a very
grave face the maiden turned to her cousin.
"Harriet," she said, "does thee remember the trouble that we got into at
Middlebrook by trying to pass letters to Sir Henry? Thee must not try to
pass any letters here."
"But this is different, Peggy," protested the other girl eagerly. "I'm
not going to do any spy work. I learned a lesson at that time that I
shall never forget. You have my word, Peggy. I shall not break it. The
only thing I should write would be but a line to ask for Clifford's
exchange. There could be no harm in that."
"If thee sends a letter of any sort, Harriet, thee must first take it to
Mr. Joseph Reed, the president of the council. If he sees no objection
to it then he will send it through for thee. If thee does not care to go
to him, mother would attend to it for thee. 'Twould be best to leave the
matter with her in any case. She would do everything that could be
done."
"But the army is not here," expostulated Harriet, who evidently had the
matter strongly in mind. "I see no reason why I should submit my letter
to Mr. Reed. There could be naught to report of war matters from
Philadelphia. 'Tis not as it was at Middlebrook."
"Is it not?" queried Peggy. "Why, Harriet, the enemy want all knowledge
that can be had of the movements of Congress. Philadelphia is the center
of the government. Whatever transpires here is of great interest to Sir
Henry. Therefore, the rules regarding letters are rigid. Thee must not
attempt it, Harriet."
"Well, well, have it your own way," returned Harriet lightly. "I think
you make too much of such a small thing, Peggy, but the affair can be
arranged when Clifford's whereabouts become known. So we will say no
more about it."
There was nothing that could be said, so Peggy held her peace; but she
thought deeply. She would tell her mother, she resolved, and they would
see that no communication was had with the British that was not through
the regular channels. But what a responsibility these English cousins
were, she mused, and so musing sighed heavily.
"Wherefore the sigh, cousin mine?" quizzed Harriet, bending low over her
saddle to look into Peggy's eyes. "Is it because you are afraid of what
I shall do? Fie, for shame! 'Tis you who are beset by fancies now. Fear
nothing, Peggy. I shall bring no further trouble upon you. Is that what
you were worrying about?"
"Yes," confessed Peggy frankly. "It was, Harriet."
"Then think of it no more. Have I not said that no trouble shall come to
you? And there shall not. But a truce to seriousness. 'Tis much too fine
for worry. Is not that a robin redbreast, Peggy?"
"Yes, Harriet. I have noticed several since we began our ride. 'Twill
soon be spring. And it should be; for it is the first of Third month."
And so the topic of the letter was put aside for the time, and the
maidens rode on through the trees chatting pleasantly. Suddenly the dull
boom of a cannon smote their ears.
"A battle! A battle!" cried Harriet excitedly as they drew rein to
listen. "Oh, what if our people have attacked the city?"
"Nay," spoke Peggy. "'Tis more like that there is something to
celebrate. Listen! Does thee not hear bells?"
"I wonder what it can be?" exclaimed Harriet. "I hope that 'tis not
another victory for the rebels."
"Let us hasten, Harriet. We can find out in no other way." Peggy called
to Tom, and they set forward at speed.
The noise became a din as they entered the city. Cannon boomed from the
shipping on the Delaware, and artillery thundered on the land. All the
bells in the city were ringing. Hoarse shouts filled the air, and upon
every side there were manifestations of joy.
"Oh, what can it be?" exclaimed Peggy with some excitement. "I wish we
knew."
A short, thick-set little man, of dark, swarthy complexion was just
crossing Front Street toward one of the quays as she spoke. He turned as
he heard the exclamation, and came toward them.
"If you do not know, lassie, let me tell you," he said with a deep
obeisance. "'Tis a great day. A great day, and will go down in history
as such. Know then that this morning the last state ratified the
Articles of Confederation, and by that act the Union becomes perpetual."
"Have they done it at last?" cried she. "Why, it hath been debated and
discussed so long that we feared 'twould never happen. I did not know
'twas to occur to-day."
"Nor did any of us," returned he genially. "I fancy that it took even
the Congress by surprise. 'Twas announced at noon, by a discharge of
artillery, the signal agreed upon. I am going now to add my quota to the
rejoicing by firing a _feu de joie_ from my ship yonder."
He indicated a frigate beautifully decorated with a variety of streamers
anchored just off the quay.
"The 'Ariel,'" read Harriet, at which Peggy opened her eyes wide.
"If that is thy ship then thee must be that John Paul Jones who fought
that wonderful battle with the 'Serapis' two years ago," ejaculated she.
For the "Ariel" was the vessel which was given that gallant officer in
place of the "Bon Homme Richard" which had been so battered in that
memorable engagement that it had sunk two days after the fight.
[Illustration: "THEE MUST BE JOHN PAUL JONES"]
"The very same," he answered with a profound courtesy. "The very same,
at your service, ladies."
"And thou hast stopped to give us information just as though thee was an
ordinary man," she said in so awed a tone that he burst out laughing.
"Well, and why not? Could I not give it as correctly as another? I am
honored to be of service."
He swept them another courtesy, and a little confused by the meeting the
two girls thanked him, and rode on.
On every hand the citizens demonstrated the importance of the happy
occasion. At two o'clock in the afternoon, the President of Congress
received congratulations. At night the evening was ushered in by an
elegant display of fireworks while the gentlemen of Congress, the civil
and military officers, and many of the principal citizens partook of a
collation spread for them at the City Tavern.
The first great step toward making the union permanent was taken. There
were many pitfalls awaiting the young nation ere one republic could be
moulded out of thirteen sovereign states. There were concessions to be
made, mistakes corrected, in later years a baptism of blood, before E
Pluribus Unum could be properly the motto of the new United States. But
the first step toward becoming a nation among the nations was taken when
the states entered into a firm league of friendship on this day for
their common defense, the security of their liberties and their mutual
general welfare. A people struggling for liberty always become the
favorites of heaven, and how far-reaching the links forged between the
states was to become was known alone to the Ruler of all.