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The innkeeper having performed the errand satisfactorily, was but too glad to take hasty leave; he had no notion, he declared, of being carried a prisoner into New York Province and detained from his family, which would be his fate should he fall in with the British, and it be known that he had interfered in a military capacity. And away flew the

should yield to considerations of duty. Newark lay in | Stanley, he expressed much anxiety for his safety, his rear, the town of Belville before him-at which more especially as the commander-in-chief was explace he intended to cross the Passaic. Gen. Washing-pecting his arrival daily. He very gladly accepted ton, according to the best information, after retreat- the inkeeper's offer, to risk his own and his steed's ing from Fort Lee, on the Hudson, before the superior safety, in venturing on hostile ground, to carry a force of Lord Cornwallis, had crossed the Hackensac message to the captain, to march to a certain pass or River, and posted himself on its banks. Soon as ford on the Passaic-distant from where he was Stanley passed the Passaic he would be on the same overtaken about a couple of miles-where he would ground as the commander-in-chief, viz. the fertile find either boats or rafts to transport the men and district between the Hackensac and Passaic rivers, stores, and a detachment with artillery to cover his and might expect momently to come in contact with landing. his excellency's videttes, or foraging-parties. He entertained no danger of encountering the British, who were encamped beyond the Hackensac, a barrier which, as it sufficed General Washington, afforded the same protection to Stanley's little force. Still he had need of caution, as detachments of light cavalry might find means of passage for sake of forage or plunder. On entering Belville, he could gain no in-honest patriot, staying not to receive Stanley's thanks, telligence further than that the patriot camp was astir, owing to the enemy's motions, and the expectation of an assault. The town was comparatively deserted; few inhabitants remaining but women and children. All able-bodied denizens who had not joined the militia, called out by Governor Livingston to aid the continental forces of Washington, were : employed in the transport of stores and cattle to places beyond reach of the British. His informant, the innkeeper, a stanch patriot, advised him by no means to march to the banks of the Hackensac, but, after crossing the bridge at Bellville, to keep close to the banks of the Passaic. This advice agreed both with instructions and the dictates of his own judgment, and by following it gave the best chance of approaching the camp in the rear, rather than on the flank, which was necessarily exposed to incursions of the enemy's light horse, the Hackensac being fordable at various points.

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After several hours' march over very difficult ground-a road chosen for greater safety, but on which he made little progress with his heavily laden wagon-he was overtaken by the friendly innkeeper of Belville, whose horse was much blown by hard riding. The intelligence brought convinced Stanley, when too late to remedy it, that his position was very critical. Soon after his departure from Belville, a detachment of cavalry and pioneers, under command of Colonel Reed, entered in great haste, and immediately commenced the demolition of the bridge. They had scarcely completed its destruction, when British and Hessian cavalry appeared on the opposite bank, and a few shots were exchanged. After reconnoitering, the enemy withdrew. It appeared that Gen. Washington, finding his position in a level country, between two rivers, very hazardous, inasmuch as with the Passaic in his rear retreat might be cut off should he be dislodged from the Hackensac, had very suddenly broke up the camp, crossed the Passaic at the bridge of Aquackanoc, which he fortified, and was extending his lines along the western banks, down to Newark. He had now a safer country to retreat on, should he deem it necessary. Upon Col. Reed being informed of the course taken by Captain

but urging his steed to a ford above Belville with which he was well acquainted.

For service of his company, Mark had one baggage-wagon, which carried clothing, tents and stores, and afforded relief to the men when crippled with walking, and a little chaise, or chair, as it was called in Pennsylvania and the Jerseys, drawn by one horse, under the seat of which was deposited the treasure, its weight resting on the axle-tree. Lieutenant Heaton and the Ensign were, of course, in the secret of the freight it held, but all others, including even honest and zealous John Broadbent, were led to believe that the chair contained only the captain's clothing and linen. It served the officers by turn, a relief of which the privates could not complain, nor make odious comparison of the effeminacy of their superiors, as they had the privilege of the wagon when needful.

Mark's evil star had led him into the very strait he was desirous to avoid-he was between the British and the patriot camp, and, to add to the misfortune, must cross a broad river, (perhaps in view of the enemy) or captivity was certain. In front, on a ridge of high ground overhanging the stream, a woody pass extended for above a mile, and then sloped gradually to the ford, or passage, indicated in Col. Reed's instructions. The wood, he hoped, would screen him from the foe, and on emerging from its covert-should he be exposed to observation, which was more than likely, as the ground between the two rivers was now in undisputed possession of the British-the colonel's detachment, which was provided with several light field-pieces, might cover his passage. On the successful issue of this movement rested his sole hope of escape.

After a few words of encouragement to the men, the wood was entered, scouts sent in advance, to give timely notice of danger, the main body following, and in the rear the baggage-wagon and light chaise. The road was indifferent, but an occasional glimpse of the stream below, seen between overhanging trees, gave assurance that safety grew every moment nearer. Yet the hour was trying; in every moan of the wind-in every rustle of the constantly

fang leaves, Mark started, expecting to beboid a red form, things the thinned flage, or bear the tramp of cavery. The butt of long is precis freight within she of port, within hat of ales, fevered the brain-the perp ration started on his brow, and be trembled, though not with personal fear. In this state of mind. ere the company emerged from the wood. John Broadhest, who had been assigned the responsible post of rear-guard-a post in which he was associated with his od friend Wilkin Totsey-came running forward with his extrade, to impart the unwelcome inteligence that they were pursued by cavalry.

Erish or Hess an, no doubt, your honor-though I cannot pretend to judge by the ear," added the sergeant, out of breath

- Weler." sad the officer, with softer tone, cen show mercy, if you cannot. But the man wy acts as you have done, by as decent a bit of burso dest as ever I stepped across-just out of spiter prevent our having the animais a mean, corn brute, not a gentleman.”

Mark winced under the unjost reproof, but dares not attempt excupation-he was but too clad déficer had mistaken his motives for the real ir ape rent cruelty of the act. He surrendered his sw ri and was ordered into charge of private JetS a comrade.

Lieur Heaton, though doubting the ably fis captain to conceal the treasure, pushed on as ordent When overtaken, he drew the wagon across road. fired a voley on his pursuers, under cover a the obstruction, and took to the woods, where t cavalry could not follow. On reaching the forts found boats in readiness, in which he embarkeds men. but delayed pushing off, although severa, ora of British cavalry, attracted probably by the fx appeared on the higher grounds. Still the capa came not. and Heaton was forced to cross, after wis ing till the boats were almost within pistol shei the enemy, who now crowded the banks. Col. Rei however, from the opposite side, put in play howitzers, which quickly dispersed the troopers.

"You must report your story to the comman in-chief," said the colonel, on listening to Heaton's explanation, the loss of Captain State with the specie, is most unlucky. We want the stret desperately."

Passaic.

"What stall we do with the chair, sir?" asked Lient. Heaton, who shared his superior's alarm. This question the captain had been continually asking himself, ever since the Belville innkeeper disappeared. and our hero had not left the question undecided until it was too late. He ordered the Beutenant to posh on, and, if overtaken, abandon the baggage without firing a shot, which would doubtless arrest the progress of troopers eager for plunder, and afford time to reach the ford; as for attempting a stand on ground occupied, ere this, by the entire British columns, it was a useless waste of life. He himself would take charge of the chair, provide for its concealment, and quickly regain the track, unless captured. During the march through the wood, Mark had perceived several openings from the road, on the river side, any one of which would have suited his purpose. Whilst the company moved forward at quick pace, Scene V-General Washington's Quarters on is Stanley led horse and chair under the boughs of a cluster of trees, backed the vehicle till it stood on the verge of the rocky bank, and commenced unharnessing the animal. Though the operation was simple, yet, in the agitation of the moment, he could not unfasten the straps so quickly as needed; he was observed by the enemy, and whilst the main corps continued in pursuit of the devoted company, an officer, followed by half-a-dozen troopers, dashed up¦ the glade. No time was to be lost. He caught at the bridle, and backed both horse and vehicle over the precipice. The crash of boughs, and clatter of loose stones, was followed by a hollow plunge and par of water, as the disturbed river closed over the descending mass. The weight of metal will sink poor Jerry! thought Mark, with a sigh of regret for the fate of his horse, as he turned to confront the foe. "The d―d Yankee rebel!" exclaimed the officer in a passion, "cut him down, Jenkins-let him follow his horse-he has a mind we shall benefit nothing by him."

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Two days after the events recorded in the last scene, Lieut. Heaton, for the third or fourth time. was summoned to the presence of the commanderin-chief. Several general officers were present After long consultation, and hearing the report d those who crossed the river to make search, through the wood, for the treasure which Mark might have hidden, the lieutenant passed his final examination. "I am quite satisfied with your conduct, Mr. Heaton, said General Washington, "and as proof of it, you will remain-during the absence of Captain Stanley-in command of the company. Still I cannot refrain noticing, to impress it on your future conduct, that in firing on the cavalry you acted contrary to the orders of Captain Stanley, your superior officer. As the ground was occupied by the enemy, the discharge was calculated to bring to the spot other detachments, by which your retreat might have been, and, indeed, nearly was, cut off.”

Mr. Heaton bowed respectfully before the gentle "Sir, may I ask if you are a British officer?" cried reproof, of which he felt the justice, and quitted the Stanley.

"Well-what then?" asked the other-making a motion to restrain the activity of Jenkins, whose sabre was uplifted.

tent.

In deliberation with his generals, after the departure of the lieutenant, his excellency could not avoid dwelling on what he called the mysterious disappear"I am a gentleman, and a captain under commis- ance of Captain Stanley. He could not, he said, sion of Congress, and I claim your protection," re-reconcile the conduct of the captain by any honorable plied Mark.

standard. If he were taken prisoner, the usual privi

lege of writing to head-quarters would not be with- | Captain Stanley, and am much vexed at your interheld, though he might justly be afraid of committing ruptions," answered the lady. the secret to paper. A man of honor would be sensitively anxious to do away with the natural ground of suspicion, caused by the sudden disappearance of the treasure, and of him who had it in charge. Neither from prisoners taken, nor deserters who had crossed over to the patriot camp, could aught be learned of the captain. A suspicious mind might not unjustly infer from all the circumstances, that Mr. Stanley had contrived to escape with and appropriate the treasure to his own purposes; but he was loath to indulge in harsh conclusions respecting a gentleman who had taken every precaution to carry his trust to its destination up to the very moment of the enemy's attack. Yet if he were slain his body would have been doubtless found in the wood.

The report which his excelleney made to Congress on the subject, escaped to the public ear, and the friends of Stanley were bitterly mortified by the blight cast on his reputation. His deep play at the gaming-table was called to mind, and commented on. People shook their heads when his name was mentioned. Charles Harris would not surrender his friend's character, yet he could make no reasonable defence. Mr. Stanhope, in communion with his daughter, took credit for the interdiction he had placed against further intercourse with Mark; yet, in truth, he was both grieved and puzzled, as Mark was a favorite, spite of his wild habits. Miss Letty wept in secret, and reproached herself for cruelty in refusing Mark's letter, which perhaps had driven him, in despair, to forsake Philadelphia for ever.

The stirring military movements which occurred that winter, however, soon drove the supposed defection of Stanley from memory; the public mind became occupied with matters of deeper import.

Scene VI.-Mr. Stanhope's House in Philadelphia. It was the month of February. The air without doors was piercingly cold, the atmosphere gloomy, but in the drawing-room of Mr. Stanhope's wellappointed dwelling, the faggots blazed cheerfully on the hearth, whilst around were happy friends who participated in the genial glow. The circle was small, consisting only of the host, his daughter, Mark Stanley and his tried friend, Charles Harris.

"And so you were a double prisoner, Mark," said the old man," with a holiday parole from the British, and under arrest from the commander-in-chief!"

"I was so," replied Stanley, "when, after three months' captivity, I presented myself at the quarters of General Greene-but his excellency has done me full justice, as I would have told you, if you had not interrupted my story so often."

"O! hang the story!" cried Mr. Stanhope," the fact is, Mark, I am too glad to see you with unblemished character, to listen now to the details. By all, except a few friends, your memory was unanimously consigned to perdition. Let us now think and talk of the future-what say you, Letty?"

"I have been listening, sir, with intense interest to

"Well-cut it as short as you can, Mark," said the host, assuming an attitude of attention. Not to weary the reader, we will cut yet closer than our hero in the recital of his adventures. The British officer, he said, by whom he was taken prisoner, was so angry at losing a horse on which he had fixed his mind, and bore such hatred to his captive for baulking him of the prize, that, in revenge, he would not allow communication by word, or writing, with the American camp, but despatched Mr. Stanley, under guard, through the Jerseys, to a ship lying at Sandy-Hook, bound for Halifax, whither he was taken with other prisoners, and narrowly escaped being sent to England. General Howe, fortunately, wanted men to exchange for his own soldiers who had been captured, so Mark was returned to New York-obtained a parole from the British general, (which was granted as compensation for the harsh removal to Halifax,) and proceeded to American head-quarters, burning with anxiety to see the commander-in-chief, and make report concerning the specie sunk in the Passaic. On presenting himself before General Greene he was placed under arrest, which he bore with patience for four-and-twenty hours, till he could gain an interview with his excellency. On telling his story to the latter, he was instantly freed from arrest. After an interval of several days, the opportunity was afforded of sending a corps of pioneers to the Passaic, who, guided by Stanley, succeeded in raising the chair. The shafts and harness were broken, and the body of poor Jerry had drifted away, but the treasure proved safe, and was finally delivered to its original destination-the custody of General Washington-who, to make amends for the unavoidable calumny which blighted the reputation of Captain Stanley, immediately procured his exchange for a British officer of the same rank, and gave Mark a letter explanatory to Congress, with a furlough of three months-though he did not forget to hint, that if the captain had very strictly followed his instructions, he would have made more minute inquiries at Newark and Belville respecting the movements of the opposing armies, and gained intelligence which would have induced him to keep on the western bank of the Passaic, and have thus avoided manifold disasters.

“Well, Mark!” said Mr. Stanhope, "as his excellency has been heavy on you, I will let you off easy, though I had intended, in a day or two, at farthest, to read a severe lecture on gambling and its consequences."

"Sir," replied the captain, "I have pledged my. self to Mr. Harris, to abstain altogether from that pursuit."

"Yes," said Charles, laughing, "on that article he is a prisoner on parole his entire life."

During the three months' furlough, Mark-unlucky man!-contrived again to fall into captivity, but his jailer was both fair and kind; he was prisoner to Miss Letty, and the tie by which he was held-the chain matrimonial. After several years' service

(military we mean) Mr. Stanley was promoted to a majority, and eventually obtained the rank of colonel. Looking back to the period of recruiting, when fortune and character were at so low an ebb, he felt grateful for the services of John Broadbent, and even the characterless recruits, whose enlistment restored

the favor of Congress. It is to this feeling that we may doubtless ascribe the elevation of Mr. Broadbent to an ensigncy, during the course of the war, and that Wilkin Totsey became sergeant and deputy paymaster. Of Lieut. Heaton we have no further record than the date of his commission as captain.

MOUNT AUBURN.

WRITTEN AFTER A VISIT IN THE SUMMER OF 1839.

BY CHARLES WEST THOMSON.

No wonder that the dead repose

More sweetly here, where the lily and rose

Are round them in their quiet sleep,

With the willow above their graves to weep-
Where the birds are singing their anthems clear
Through the changing scenes of the varied year-
While the grass is springing fresh and green,
To tell of life in its early scene-
And the leaves around them sadly fall,
To mark the fate that must come to all.
No wonder that they rest more still
On the verdant side of the breezy hill,
Than in the city's bustling way,

Where the crowd rushes by from day to day,
Nor heeds nor cares for the dust that lies
Forever before unweeping eyes.

O yes it is a lovely spot,

For Nature here has proudly wrought

The charm of lake and wood and glen,
So fair that they shame the works of men,
And make it a scene where the dead might lie

In the silence of hallowed sanctity.

Ay! here the parted ones have come
To lay them down in their quiet home,
Where no rude step shall e'er intrude
Upon their peaceful solitude-

But the fresh green grass shall sweetly wave
Above the mound of the lowly grave,
And the eye of affection may bring its tear
Unscared and unscorned by the vulgar sneer.
The infant of few short days is here,
That sparkled a moment to disappear-
And come in its sinless state to lie
Amid the lilies that speak of its purity.

Here sleeps the youth of promise fair,
Of the raven eye and clustering hair-
The "shining mark" for death's eager dart-
Perhaps the pride of a mother's heart,
Who has laid him under the fresh green sod,
With a heart almost broken, yet trusting in God
That the heart and the form which she cherished here
Shall be hers again in a happier sphere.

Here sleeps the damsel whose rosy bloom
Scarce gave presage of an early tomb-
Whose lightsome step and laughing eye
Seemed not to say she was born to die.
But the spoiler came, and her cheek was paled,
And her eye was dimmed, and her lightness failed;
And she sunk, like a faded flower, to rest

On her last low couch in the earth's green breast-
'Twas fitting that beauty at last should lie
Mid the beautiful scenes of earth and sky.
Here, too, reposes the form of age,
The matron mild and the hoary sage-

The scholar-the poet-the man whose mind
Wore out the shell which its strength confined,
And gave him to earth before his time,

In the early age of his manhood's prime.

And here they have laid him whose honored name Was dear alike to science and fame;

Who came from the fields of his native sky,

In a stranger land to shine and die.

O meet is such resting place for one,
Who on nature's embassy loved to run-
Who gave his heart and his soul to her,
And was vowed her own philosopher.

Thou who lovest the beautiful,
Here come and feast till thy heart is full;
Give thy thoughts to those teaching dreams
That here inspire the purest themes-
For the past and the future here unite,
And point thy way to the fealms of light.
Man of the world, come hither and trace
The certain doom of thy destined race;
Learn how futile-how false and vain

Is the wealth thou strivest so hard to gain;

For here its proud dominion ends,
When man to his native dust descends;
Then be not thy time to riches given,
But seek the unperishing treasures of Heaven.
Man of pleasure, awhile resign

Thy mad devotion to mirth and wine,
And come to these quiet and rural shades,
Where a spirit of peace the scene pervades,
To which thou hast long a stranger been,
In the devious paths of folly and sin.
Come to this city of the dead,

This home of peace in the forest spread,
Muse with thy heart in its better mood,
In the depths of this silent solitude—
And take the lesson these alleys teach
With a power no living man can preach,
That virtue alone can here bestow
The pleasure a reasoning man should know,
Who thinks of his glorious destiny,
And lives for the world that is yet to be.
O'tis no wonder the dead repose

So sweetly here mid the lily and rose,
And the bright green earth and the glorious trees,
Where the birds are chanting their harmonies.

No wonder that here they sweetly rest

On Nature's calm and peaceful breast;
For 't is a quiet and holy shade,

In the charms of valley and hill arrayed--
It came from its Maker in beauty free,
And man has given it sanctity.

*Spurzheim, the Phrenologist.

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