disposing of the prisoners--indeed, an opinion was scarcely asked or
given. It seemed taken for granted--a thing of course; and the culprits
were led in silence to the selected place of execution. There was
neither judge nor jury--no delay--no prayer for mercy; a large oak then
stood at the forks of two roads, one of which leads to Freehold; from
the body of the tree a horizontal branch extended over the latter road,
to which two ropes were attached. One of them having been fixed to the
minor villain's neck, _his_ sufferings were soon over; but a horrible
and lingering death was reserved for Fagan. The iron hoops were taken
off a meat cask, and by a blacksmith in the company fitted round his
ankles, knees, and arms, pinioning the latter to his body, so that,
excepting his head, which was 'left free to enjoy the prospect,' he
could not move a muscle. In this condition he hung for days beside his
stiffened companion; dying by inches of famine and cold, which had
moderated so as, without ending, to aggravate his misery. Before he
died, he had gnawed his shoulder from very hunger. On the fifth night,
as it approached twelve o'clock, having been motionless for hours,
his guards believed him to be dead, and, tired of their horrid duty,
proposed to return home. In order, however, to be sure, they sent one of
the party up the ladder to feel if his heart still beat. He had ascended
into the tree, when a shriek, unlike anything human, broke upon the
stillness of the night, and echoed from the neighboring wood with
redoubled power. The poor fellow dropped from the tree like a dead man,
and his companions fled in terror from the spot. When day encouraged
them to return, their victim was swinging stiffly in the north wind--now
lifeless as the companion of his crime and its punishment. It is
believed, to this day, that no mortal power, operating upon the lungs of
the dead murderer, produced that awful, unearthly, and startling scream;
but that it was the voice of the Evil One, warning the intrusive guard
not to disturb the fiend in the possession of his lawful victim; a belief
materially strengthened by a fact that could not be disputed--the limb
upon which the robbers hung, after suffering double pollution from
them and their master's touch, never budded again; it died from that
hour; the poison gradually communicated to the remaining branches, till,
from a flourishing tree, it became a sapless and blasted trunk, and so
stood for years, at once an emblem and a monument of the murderers' fate.
"Fagan was never buried; his body hung upon its gibbet till the winds
picked the flesh from off his bones, and they fell asunder by their own
weight. A friend of mine has seen his horrid countenance, as it
hung festering and blackening in the wind, and remembers, by way of
amusement, between schools, pelting the body with stones. The old trunk
has disappeared, but the spot is still haunted in the belief of the
people of the neighborhood, and he is a bold man who dare risk a
nocturnal encounter with the bloody Fagan, instead of avoiding the
direct road, at the expense of half a mile's additional walk. No
persuasion or force will induce a horse _raised in the neighborhood_ to
pass the fated spot at _night_, although he will express no uneasiness
by daylight. The inference is, that the animals, as we know animals
_do_, and Balaam's certainly _did_, see more than their masters. A
skeptical gentleman, near, thinks this only the force of habit, and that
the innocent creatures have been so taught by the cowards who drive
them, and would saddle the horses with their own folly.
"I am at the close of my story, and not a lover or a tender scene in the
whole tedious relation--alas! what a defect, but it is too late to mind
it now; it only remains to take leave of our friends. Nathan and
Hannah have mingled with dust, and their spirits with that society
whose only business is love, and where sighing and contention can never
intrude. Nathan was permitted, on his expressing his sorrow that he
had 'disobliged Friends,' to rejoin his society, and he died an elder.
Rachel departed at a great age, as she had lived, a spotless maiden. The
blooming, the warm-hearted, mischievous Amy lives, a still comely old
lady, the mother of ten sons, and the grandparent of three times as many
more. She adheres strictly to all the rules of her society, and bears
her testimony in the capacity of a public Friend. Still, she is
evidently not a little proud of her father's and brothers' share in the
perils and honors of the revolutionary contest, though she affects to
condemn their contumacy and unfriendly conformity to the world's ways,
and their violation of 'Friends' testimony concerning war.' Old Annie
died four years since, at an almost incredible age, though she was not
able to name the exact number of the days of her pilgrimage. From the
deep furrows on her cheeks, and the strong lines of her naturally
striking countenance, which, as she advanced in years, assumed more and
more the character of her Indian parentage, and the leather-like
appearance of her skin, she might have passed for an antediluvian.
While other less important matters lost their impression on her memory,
the Hessian inroads upon her sausages and buckwheat cakes were neither
forgotten nor _entirely_ forgiven to the last. She sent for a friend
when on her death-bed, to make arrangement of her little affairs. He
found her strength of body exhausted, but her powers of mind unimpaired.
After disposing her stock of personalities among some of her friends,
she turned to him. 'That's all, Mr. Charles, except the old sash you
used to play with, which I sp'iled from the Hessian officer, the
Injin--keep that to mind old Anne by,'
"'Thank you, Anne--I'll keep it carefully. But you must not bear malice
_now_, Anne; you must forgive even the Hessians,' said Charles.
"'What, them Hessians, the bloody thieves?' and the old woman's eyes
lighted up, and she almost arose in her bed with astonishment, as she
asked the question.
'Yes; even _them_: you are about to need forgiveness as much as
they--they _were_ your enemies and persecutors, whom you are especially
enjoined to pardon, as you would expect to be pardoned.'
'So it is, Mr. Charles; you say the truth,--poor ignorant, sinful mortal
that I am! Well, then, I do--I _hope_ I _do_--forgive 'em; I'll try--the
bloody _creeters_.'
"There; will that do for a story, Thomas Jefferson?" asked the old
grandfather, when he had concluded. The old man had a straight-forward,
natural way of telling a story that showed he had practised it
frequently. The boy seemed much gratified by the horrible narration.
Mrs. Harmar said she was interested, but didn't like it much; her
husband remarked, however, that it would make a thrilling sketch.
"I suppose that Nathaniel Collins was very much the same sort of a
Quaker as General Green," said Morton. "They were peaceable men, as
long as peace and quiet were not inconsistent with self-defence. To
be peaceable when a foe is wasting your fields and slaughtering your
brethren, is cowardly and against nature."
"That's truth," replied Higgins. "We must look upon a merciless invader
in the same light as upon a cruel beast, whom it is saving life to
slay."
"Fagan was well punished for his outrages," remarked Wilson.
"It was the only way for the inhabitants to ensure their safety," said
Smith.
THE TORY'S CONVERSION.
"By the bye," said Mr. Morton, "some events have just recurred to my
mind, which interested me very much when I first heard of them, and
which I think may strike you as being wonderful. I knew of many strange
and unaccountable things that happened during the Revolution, but the
conversion of Gil Lester from toryism capped the climax."
"Enlighten us upon the subject, by all means," remarked Mr. Jackson
Harmar.
"Yes, that was a strange affair, Morton; tell 'em about it," added
Higgins.
"There's a little love stuff mixed up with the story," said Morton,
"but you will have to excuse that. I obtained the incidents from Lester
himself, and I know he was always true to his word, whether that was
right or wrong. Gilbert Lester, Vincent Murray, and their ladye-loves,
lived up here in Pennsylvania, in the neighborhood of the Lehigh. One
night a harvest ball was given at the house of farmer Williams. Vincent
Murray and Mary Williams, the farmer's daughter, joined in the
festivities, and, becoming tired of dancing in a hot room, they went out
to walk along the banks of the Lehigh, and, of course, to talk over love
matters.
"They had seated themselves on a fallen tree, and continued for a few
moments to gaze in the mirrored Lehigh, as if their very thoughts might
be reflected on its glassy surface. Visions of war and bloodshed were
passing before the fancy of the excited girl, and she breathed an inward
prayer to heaven to protect her lover; when, casting her eyes upward,
she suddenly exclaimed with startling energy:
"'Vincent, look at the sky!' Murray raised his head, and sprang
instantly on his feet. 'Tell me,' continued Mary, 'am I dreaming, or am
I mad! or do I actually see armies marching through the clouds?'
"Murray gazed steadfastly for a moment, and then exclaimed, 'It is the
British, Mary--I see the red coats as plainly as I see you.'
"The young girl seemed transfixed to the spot, without the power of
moving. 'Look there,' said she, pointing her finger upward--'there are
horses, with officers on them, and a whole regiment of dragoons! Oh, are
you not frightened?'
"'No,' replied her companion--but before he had time to proceed, she
again exclaimed:
'There, there, Vincent! See the colors flying, and the drums, and
trumpets, and cannon, I can almost hear them! What can it mean?'
'Don't be so terrified, Mary. It is my belief, that what we see is an
intimation from God of the approaching war. The 'Lord of Hosts' has
set his sign in the heavens. But come, let us run to the house. This is
no time to dance--and they will not believe us, unless their own eyes
behold the vision!'
"Before he had finished speaking, they were hastily retracing their
steps to the scene of merriment; and in another moment the sound of the
violin was hushed, and the feet of the dancers were still. With one
accord, they all stood in the open air, and gazed with straining glances
at the pageant in the heavens; and marked it with awe and wonder. A
broad streak of light spread itself gradually over the sky, till the
whole wide expanse was in one brilliant blaze of splendor. The clouds,
decked in the richest and most gorgeous colors, presented a spectacle of
grandeur and glory, as they continued to shape themselves into various
forms of men, and horses, and armor, till a warlike and supernatural
host was distinctly presented to the view. The dragoons, on their
prancing horses; the riflemen and artillery, with their military ensigns
and accoutrements; the infantry, and even the baggage-wagons in the
rear, were all there to complete the imposing array. _It is no fiction_;
many were eye-witnesses of that remarkable vision, which passed on from
the east, and disappeared in the west--and, from that evening, the sound
of the violin was heard no more in those places, until the end of the
Revolution.
"Mary Tracy hung upon the arm of her lover, and listened anxiously to
his words, as he spoke to her in a low but decided tone." "That's very
strange; but you have not told us how the young tory was converted,"
interrupted Mrs. Harmar.
"I am coming to that," replied Morton. "Vincent Murray and Mary Williams
conversed together for some time. He told her he was going to leave his
friends and join the American army. He said he thought the signs in the
clouds were warning to all the friends of liberty to rush to the aid of
our little struggling band; and that he intended to go to New York,
and then seek out the best plan for enlistment. Before he bade his
sweetheart farewell, he also told her he was resolved to do his best to
convert Gilbert Lester from his tory principles. Now this was no easy
task, as the two young men had often argued the question of rights, and
Lester had shown that he was as firmly fixed to his creed as Murray was
to his. Mary told him that she thought that the frowns or the smiles of
Jane Hatfield alone could change his way of thinking. But, nevertheless,
Murray resolved to try what he could do.
"The little group of dancers were all scattered in different directions.
Murray sought among the number for Gilbert Lester, and found him, at
length, leaning in a thoughtful attitude against the trunk of a huge
sycamore tree, whose broad shadow fell upon the waters of the Lehigh. So
profound was his reverie, that Murray touched his arm before he stirred
from his position, or was aware of approaching footsteps.
"'Gilbert, shall I divine your thoughts?'
"'You, perhaps, think you could do so, but I doubt whether you would
guess right.' "'Why, there can be but one subject, I should suppose,
which could occupy the mind of any one who has seen what we have seen
this evening.'
"'True; but there may be different interpretations put upon what is
equally a mystery to us all.'
"'Well, I will not dispute that point with you,--but there is a _right_
and a _wrong_, notwithstanding. Now, tell me, what is your opinion?'
"'It will hardly coincide with yours, Vincent; for I fear we shall never
agree in our ideas of the propriety and expediency of taking up arms
against our sovereign. As to this pantomime of the clouds, I must
confess it is beyond my comprehension; so, if your understanding has
been enlightened by the exhibition, I beg you will have charity to
extend the benefit.'
"'You are always for ridiculing my impressions, Gilbert; but you cannot
change my belief that our cause is a rightful one, and that it will,
with the help of the Almighty, ultimately prevail.'
"'What, against such a host as we have just seen imaged out in the sky?'
"'The Lord's hand is not shortened, that it cannot save,' replied
Murray.
"'But,' continued his friend, 'if a real army, coming over the sea to
do battle for the king, has been represented by that ghostly multitude
which passed before our view, you will find the number too strong for
this fanciful faith of yours, in the help of an invisible arm.'
"'It is a faith, however, which I am not yet disposed to yield,--the
race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong.' "'I will
acknowledge,' said Lester, interrupting him, 'that you have the
advantage of me in quoting Scripture--but depend upon it, the
_practical_ advantages of the British over the rebel army will soon
overturn your theory.'
"'No such thing, Gilbert. I tell you that the zeal, fortitude, undaunted
courage, and invincible resolution, which encompass our little band of
patriots, will prove a shield of strength that will make every single
man of them equal to at least a dozen British soldiers. And having once
risen up in defence of their rights, they will persevere to the last
extremity before they will submit to the disgraceful terms of a despotic
government. It grieves me that _you_ should be among the tories. Come, I
entreat you, and share in the glory of the triumph which I am persuaded
will eventually be ours.'
"'Then you really do believe, Murray, that God will work a modern
miracle in favor of America! My dear friend, I wish you would abandon
this vain chimera of your imagination, and let common sense and reason
convince you of the folly of this mad rebellion.'
"'And what then? Should I sit down in cowardly inaction, while others
are sacrificing their lives in the struggle? No--that shall never be
said of Vincent Murray! My resolution is taken; I will rise or fall with
my country!'
"'And perhaps the next time we meet,' said Lester, 'it may be on the
field of battle.'
"'God forbid! But should it even be the case, Gilbert, I should know no
friend among my country's enemies. Farewell--you will think better of
this subject; and remember, that no one but a _Republican_ will ever win
Jane Hatfield,' said Murray.
"The young men wrung each other's hands, and each went his way."
"Murray thought he would put in the last remark by way of strengthening
the effect of the vision in the clouds, I suppose," remarked Mr. Jackson
Harmar.
"Yes; the promise of the hand of a lovely girl has a great influence on
the opinions of a young man," replied Morton. "But in this case, if you
will wait till my story is through, you will see that Jane Hatfield had
but little to do with Lester's conversion. The next morning after the
occurrence of the wonderful phantom in the clouds, Murray left his home,
and soon after enlisted in the army under General Montgomery. He was in
the unlucky expedition against Québec.
"After the death of Montgomery, and the uniting of the different
detachments under Arnold, as their head, Murray, to his marvellous
astonishment, encountered his friend Gilbert Lester among the
Pennsylvania riflemen, under Captain Morgan. By some strange accident,
and each being ignorant of the proximity of the other, they had not met
before the attack on Québec. Great, therefore, was Murray's surprise and
pleasure; for, since the evening of their last conversation on the banks
of the Lehigh, he had no opportunity of learning whether there had been
any change in the political sentiments of his friend. With the utmost
fervor of delight he grasped his hand as he exclaimed: "'I rejoice to
see you,--but, my dear friend, what is the meaning of this meeting? And
how, in the name of wonder, came you here?'
"'Why, it is truly a wonder to myself, Murray,' replied Lester, 'that
I ever got here; or that any of us, who passed through that frightful
wilderness, are now alive to tell the story.'
"'The wilderness! I should like to know how you contrived to get into
the wilderness from the place where I last saw you?' said Murray.
"'I remember,' said Gilbert, laughing; 'you left me looking at the
clouds on the banks of the Lehigh; and, perhaps, you imagine that I
was taken up into them, and dropped down in that horrible place as a
punishment for my _toryism!_'
"'And if that was not the case, pray throw a little light on the
mystery.'
"'Have patience, then, and let me tell my story my own way. The getting
into the labyrinth was a trifle in comparison to the getting out.
Believe me, the tales of romance are nothing to the tremendous horrors
of that march. Why do you look incredulous?'
"'You know your love of the marvellous, Gilbert--but go on; only don't
out-Herod Herod in your description.'
"'There is no danger of that--no description can come up to the truth. I
looked upon that whole army in the desert as destined to make their
next general parade in the heavens--and fancied you would see our poor,
unhappy apparitions gliding through the sky; and, perhaps, exclaim,
'Poor Gilbert; he died in the good cause at last. It seems, however, that
the necessity is spared of my making so pathetic an apostrophe. You had
the good fortune to escape.'
'It was little less than a miracle that we did so, I assure you,'
replied Gilbert.
'Your preservation, then, should be a more convincing proof to your
mind, that the Lord is on our side, and will not forsake us in this
unequal strife.'
'Ah,' replied Lester, 'you may beat me in _faith_, Vincent, but I will
contend that I have beaten you in _works_. Had you waded, as we did,
through those hideous bogs, which a poor Irishman, whose bones we left
on the way, declared, 'bate all the bogs of Ireland!' you would have
said the Israelites in the wilderness had a happy time of it, compared
to us. Why, we were drowned, and starved, and frozen, till we had nearly
given up all hope of the honor of being shot.'
'But you forget that I am still in ignorance of the preceding causes,
which produced the revolution in your sentiments, and consequently
influenced your actions after I left the farm,' said Murray,
interrupting him.
"'You are right,' replied Gilbert; 'I am before my story. My head was
so completely filled with the images on the way, that I was obliged
to dispose of them first, ere I could clear a passage in my memory to
relate what came before. It would, however, require too much time, at
this moment, to enter into all the detail of argument and persuasion
that gradually undermined my first principles. My imagination was a
little excited by the whole scene at our last harvest festival. The
sudden interruption in the dancing by the singular phenomena in the
heavens, and the termination, from that evening, of all our accustomed
mirth and gaiety, made a strong impression, which led me to inquire
and reflect on passing events, connected with the disturbances in the
country, much more closely and anxiously than I had done before. The
result was a determination, in my own mind, to follow you. Knowing your
admiration of General Washington, I instantly jumped at the conclusion
that you had proceeded to Cambridge, in order to be guided in your
future movements by the commander-in-chief; and so, without the least
hesitation, I straightway decided on pursuing the same course. You are
well aware, Vincent, that I am a creature of impulse. My arrival at
head-quarters happened to be at the moment when Colonel Arnold was
fitting out his troops for this unhappy expedition; and meeting
accidentally with an acquaintance among the Pennsylvania riflemen, I
enlisted in the same regiment, under Captain Morgan. A spice of romance,
which I believe nature infused into my disposition, and which was
increased among the mountain passes and wild fastnesses of our native
scenery, induced me to look forward with a kind of adventurous pleasure,
to the projected passage through the unexplored wilderness. The probable
hazard and difficulty of the exploit presented only a spur to my newly
awakened ardor; and thus, with my usual impetuosity of feeling, I
pushed on among the most enthusiastic followers of Colonel Arnold. The
concluding part of the history is written in the blood of our brave and
gallant general; and now, in the closing scene of the drama, I find
myself, by a singular freak of fortune, thrown again in your company, in
a place where I had little dreamed of such a meeting.'
"In the meanwhile, an interesting event happened on the banks of the
Lehigh. The usual business in that part of the country was suspended.
The men congregated to talk over the causes and events of the war, and
the signs of the times. The appearance of the army in the heavens was
still fresh in the minds of all; and it was but a few weeks after the
departure of Murray and Lester that another spectacle was seen, even
more astonishing than the first.
"It was on a September evening that the _Aurora Borealis_ was discovered
in the sky. It grew brighter and brighter, and soon drew together a
large number of the inhabitants of the neighborhood. The distance was
short to the highest ground on the ridge of the Lehigh Mountains, and
the whole party ascended to the summit, near the old road between Easton
and Philadelphia. There they paused, to view the surrounding scenery in
the broad, clear light. The Kittating Mountain, enveloped in its blue
shade of mist, lay far away to the north and west; while, on the Jersey
side, to the east, the high Musconetcong rose darkly in the distance.
Suddenly, a cloud appeared on the blue sky above, and immediately,
quick, successive sounds, as of the firing of cannon, broke on the ear.
The cloud dispersed with the noise, and flying troops were seen rushing
on from the west. Men and horses were mingled in one indiscriminate mass
of confusion. The soldiers wore the uniform of the British; but
there was no order, as in the former vision. Ranks were cut up and
destroyed--plumes were bent down and broken--horses fled without
riders--and the fallen were trampled on by their companions. Terror
seemed to move in their midst, as they hurried onward. The pillar of a
cloud rose again behind them. It was like a thick smoke from the fire
of the enemy. It curled and wreathed itself away in the heavens, and
disappeared, as with another sound of guns. Then came the Continental
Army. Soldiers marching in triumph--officers mounted, and flags of
victory streaming on the sky. On and on, they followed in the pursuit,
till the singular phantasm melted away in the east.
"The sight was hailed with joy, as an omen of success to the American
cause. Numerous were the spectators to that second vision--and some are
yet alive in the part of the country where it was seen.