Shall be my friends and favorites still.
The impious crew, the factious band,
Shall hold their peace, or quit the land;
And all who break the public rest,
Where I have power, shall be suppressed.'”
“And he did it too,” remarked Aunt Lois.
“He trusted in the Lord, and the Lord brought him to honor,” said my
grandmother. “When he took the army, every thing was agin' us: it didn't
seem possible we should succeed.”
“Wal, he was awful put to it sometimes,” said Sam Lawson. “I 'member
Uncle David Morse was a-tellin' me 'bout that are time down in New York
when the' Massachusetts and Connecticut boys all broke and run.”
“Massachusetts boys run? How came that Sam?” said I.
“Wal, you see, sometimes fellows will get a-runnin'; and it jest goes
from one to another like fire, and ye can't stop it. It was after the
battle of Long Island, when our men had been fighting day after day, and
had to retreat. A good many were wounded, and a good many of 'em were
sick and half-sick; and they'd got sort o' tired and discouraged.
“Well, Lord Howe and the British came to make a landing at Kipp's Bay
round by New York; and the troops set to guard the landing began to run,
and the Massachusetts and Connecticut men were sent to help 'em. Uncle
David says that the fellows that run spread the panic among 'em; and
they looked ahead, and saw an ox-drag on top of a hill they was to pass,
and they thought 'twas a cannon pintin' right at 'em; and the boys, they
jest broke and run,--cut right across the road, and cleared over the
fence, and streaked it off cross-lots and up hill like a flock o' sheep.
Uncle David, he run too; but he'd been sick o' dysentary, and was so
weak he couldn't climb the fence: so he stopped and looked back, and
saw Gineral Washington cantering up behind 'em, shouting, and waving
his sword, looking like a flamin' fire. Oh, he was thunderin' mad, the
gineral was! And, when he see the fellows skittering off cross-lots, he
jest slammed his hat down on the ground, and give up. 'Great heavens!'
says he, 'are these the men I've got to fight this battle with?'
“Wal, Uncle David, he picked up the gineral's hat, and come up and made
his bow, and said, 'Gineral, here's your hat.'
“'Thank you, sir!' said the gineral. 'I'm glad to see one brave fellow
that can stand his ground. _You_ didn't run.'
“Uncle David said he felt pretty cheap, 'cause he know'd in his own
heart that he would 'a' run, only he was too weak to git over the fence;
but he didn't tell the gineral that, I bet He put the compliment in his
pocket, and said nothing; for now the gineral's aides came riding up
full drive, and told him they must be off out of the field in a minute,
or the British would have 'em, and so one on 'em took Uncle David up
behind him, and away they cantered. It was a pretty close shave too: the
British was only a few rods behind 'em.
“Oh, dear, if they had caught him!” said I. “Only think!”
“Well, they would have hung him; but we should have had another in his
place,” said Aunt Lois. “The war wouldn't 'a' stopped.”
“Well, 'twas to be as 'twas,” said my grandmother. “The Lord had respect
to the prayers of our fathers, and he'd decreed that America should be
free.”
“Yes,” said Sam: “Parson Badger said in one o' his sermons, that men
always was safe when they was goin' in the line o' God's decrees: I
guess that are was about it. But, massy! is that are the nine o'clock
bell? I must make haste home, or I dun' know what Hetty 'll say to me.”