NEVILLE TRUEMAN, THE

PIONEER PREACHER. 

A TALE OF THE WAR OF 1812. 

BY THE

REV. W. H. WITHROW, M. A. 

TO THE

REV. EGERTON RYERSON, D. D. , LL. D. , WHOSE LONG LIFE

HAS BEEN DEVOTED TO THE SERVICE OF HIS COUNTRY, THIS

"Story of the War, "

WHOSE HISTORY

HE HAS WITH GRAPHIC PEN RECORDED, IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED

BY

THE AUTHOR. 

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PREFACE. 

In this short story an attempt has been made--with what successthe reader must judge--to present certain phases of Canadian lifeduring the heroic struggle against foreign invasion, which firststirred in our country the pulses of that common national life, which has at length attained a sturdier strength in theconfederation of the several provinces of the Dominion of Canada. It will he found, we think, that the Canadian Methodism of thosetroublous times was not less patriotic than pious. While ourfathers feared God, they also honoured the King, and loved theircountry; and many of them died in its defence. Reverently let usmention their names. Lightly let us tread upon their ashes. Faithfully let us cherish their memory. And sedulously let usimitate their virtues. 

A good deal of pains has been taken by the careful study of themost authentic memoirs, documents, and histories referring to theperiod; by personal examination of the physical aspect of thescene of the story; and by frequent conversations with some of theprincipal actors in the stirring drama of the time--most of whom, alas! have now passed away--to give a verisimilitude to thenarrative that shall, it is hoped, reproduce in no distortedmanner this memorable period. 

W. H. W. 

TORONTO, March 1st, 1880. 

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CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER I. 

War Clouds

CHAPTER II. 

The Eve of Battle

CHAPTER III. 

Queenston Heights

CHAPTER IV. 

The Wages of War

CHAPTER V. 

A Victory and its Cost

CHAPTER VI. 

The Capture of York

CHAPTER VII. 

The Fall of Fort George

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Fortunes of War

CHAPTER IX. 

A Brave Woman's Exploit

CHAPTER X. 

Disasters and Triumphs

CHAPTER XI. 

Elder Case in War Time

CHAPTER XII. 

A Dark Tragedy--The Burning of Niagara

CHAPTER XIII. 

A Stern Nemesis--A Ravaged Frontier

CHAPTER XIV. 

Toronto of Old

CHAPTER XV. 

A Quarterly Meeting in the Olden Time

CHAPTER XVI. 

The "Protracted Meeting"

CHAPTER XVII. 

Heart Trials. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Tragedy of War. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Chippewa and Lundy's Lane. 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Closing of the War. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

Closing Scenes. NEVILLE TRUEMAN, THE PIONEER PREACHER [Footnote:The principal authorities consulted for the historical portion ofthis story are:--Tupper's Life and Letters of Sir Isaac Brock, Auchinleck's and other histories of the War, and Carroll's, Bangs', and Playter's references to border Methodism at the perioddescribed. Many of the incidents, however, are derived from thepersonal testimony of prominent actors in the stirring drama ofthe time, but few of whom still linger on the stage. For reasonswhich will be obvious, the personality of some of the charactersof the story is Slightly veiled under assumed names. ]

CHAPTER I. 

WAR CLOUDS. 

 Now lower the dreadful clouds of war; Its threatening thunder rolls afar; Near and more near the rude alarms Of conflict and the clash of arms Advance and grow, till all the air Rings with the brazen trumpet blare. 

Towards the close of a sultry day in July, in the year 1812, mighthave been seen a young man riding along the beautiful west bank ofthe Niagara River, about three miles above its mouth. Hisappearance would anywhere have attracted attention. He was smallin person and singularly neat in his attire. By exposure tosummer's sun and winter's cold, his complexion was richly bronzed, but, as he lifted his broad-leafed felt hat to cool his brow, itcould be seen that his forehead was smooth and white and of anoble fulness, indicating superior intellectual abilities. Hishair was dark, --his eye beneath Flashed like falchion from its sheath. 

His bright, quick glances, alternating with a full and steadygaze, betokened a mind keenly sympathetic with emotions both ofsorrow and of joy. His dress and accoutrements were those of atravelling Methodist preacher of the period. He wore a suit of"parson's grey, " the coat having a straight collar and beingsomewhat rounded away in front. His buckskin leggings, whichdescended to his stirrups, were splashed with mud, for the day hadbeen rainy. He was well mounted on a light-built, active-lookingchestnut horse. The indispensable saddle-bags, containing hisGreek Testament, Bible, and Wesley's Hymns, and a few personalnecessaries, were secured across the saddle. A small, round, leathern valise, with a few changes of linen, and his coarsefrieze great-coat were strapped on behind. Such was a typicalexample of the "clerical cavalry" who, in the early years of thiscentury, ranged through the wilderness of Canada, fording orswimming rivers, toiling through forests and swamps, and carryingthe gospel of Christ to the remotest settlers in the backwoods. 

Our young friend, the Rev. Neville Trueman, afterwards a prominentfigure in the history of early Methodism, halted his horse on abluff jutting out into the Niagara River, both to enjoy therefreshing breeze that swept over the water and to admire thebeautiful prospect. At his feet swept the broad and noble river, reflecting on its surface the snowy masses of "thunderhead"clouds, around which the lightning still played, and which, transfigured and glorified in the light of the setting sun, seemedto the poetic imagination of the young man like the City of Goddescending out of heaven, with its streets of gold and foundationsof precious stones, while the rainbow that spanned the heavensseemed like the rainbow of the Apocalypse round about the throneof God. 

Under the inspiration of the beauty of the scene, the youngpreacher began to sing in a clear, sweet, tenor voice that song ofthe ages, which he had learned at his mother's knee among thegreen hills of Vermont--

 Jerusalem the golden, With milk and honey blest, Beneath thy contemplation, Sink heart and voice opprest, I know not, oh! I know not What joys await me there; What radiancy of glory, What bliss beyond compare. 

 They stand, those walls of Zion, All jubilant with song, And bright with many an angel, And all the martyr throng. 

 With jasper glow thy bulwarks, Thy streets with emeralds blaze, The sardius and the topaz Unite in thee their rays. 

 Thine ageless walls are bonded With amethyst unpriced;

 The saints build up its fabric, The corner-stone is Christ. 

[Footnote: We cannot resist the temptation to give a few lines ofthe original hymn of Bernard of Clugny, a Breton monk of Englishparentage of the 12th century--"the sweetest of all the hymns ofheavenly homesickness of the soul, " and for generations one of themost familiar, through translations, in many languages. The rhymeand rhythm are so difficult, that the author was able to masterit, he believed, only by special inspiration of God. 

 Urbs Syon aurea, patria lactea, cive decora, Omne cor obruis, omnibus obstruis et cor et ora, Nescio, nescio, quae jubilatio, lux tibi qualis, Quam socialia gaudia, gloria quam specialis. ]

For a moment longer he gazed upon the broad, flowing river whichdivided two neighbouring peoples, one in language, in blood, inheroic early traditions, and the common heirs of the grandestliterature the world has ever seen, yet severed by a deep, wide, angry-flowing stream of strife, which, dammed up for a time, wasabout to burst forth in a desolating flood that should overwhelmand destroy some of the fairest fruits of civilization in bothcountries. As he gazed northward, he beheld, on the eastern bankof the river, the snowy walls and grass-grown ramparts of FortNiagara, above which floated proudly the stars and stripes. 

As he gazed on the ancient fort, the memories of its strangeeventful history came thronging on his mind from the time that LaSalle thawed the frozen ground in midwinter to plant hispalisades, to the time that the gallant Prideaux lay mangled inits trenches by the bursting of a cohorn--on the very eve ofvictory. These memories have been well expressed in graphic verseby a living Canadian poet--a denizen of the old borough ofNiagara. [Footnote: William Kirby, Esq. , in CANADIAN METHODISTMAGAZINE for May, 1878. ]

 Two grassy points--not promontories--front The calm blue lake--the river flows between, Bearing in its full bosom every drop Of the wild flood that leaped the cataract. And swept the rock-walled gorge from end to end. 'Mid flanking eddies, ripples, and returns, It rushes past the ancient fort that once Like islet in a lonely ocean stood, A mark for half a world of savage woods; With war and siege and deeds of daring wrought Into its rugged walls--a history Of heroes, half forgotten, writ in dust. 

 Two centuries deep lie the foundation stones, La Salle placed there, on his adventurous quest Of the wild regions of the boundless west; Where still the sun sets on his unknown grave. Three generations passed of war and peace; The Bourbon lilies grew; brave men stood guard; And braver still went forth to preach and teach Th' evangel, in the forest wilderness, To men fierce as the wolves whose spoils they wore. 

 Then came a day of change. The summer woods Were white with English tents, and sap and trench Crept like a serpent to the battered walls. Prideaux lay dead 'mid carnage, smoke, and fire Before the Gallic drums beat parley--then Niagara fell, and all the East and West Did follow: and our Canada was won. 

As the sun sank beneath the horizon, the flag slid down thehalyards, and the sullen roar of the sunset gun boomed over thewave, and was echoed back by the dense forest wall around and bythe still low-hanging clouds overhead. A moment later the Britishgun of Fort George, on the opposite side of the river, butconcealed from the spectator by a curve in the shore, loudlyresponded, as if in haughty defiance to the challenge of a foe. 

Turning his horse's head, the young man rode rapidly down theroad, beneath a row of noble chestnuts, and drew rein opposite asubstantial-looking, brick farmhouse, but with such small windowsas almost to look like a casematad fortress. Dismounting, he threwhis horse's bridle over the hitching-post at the gate, and passedthrough a neat garden, now blooming with roses and sweet peas, tothe open door of the house. He knocked with his riding-whip on thedoor jamb, to which summons a young lady, dressed in a neat calicogown and swinging in her hand a broad-leafed sunhat, replied. Seeing a stranger, she dropped a graceful "courtesy, "--which isone of the lost arts now-a-days, --and put up her hand to brushback from her face her wealth of clustering curls, somewhatdishevelled by the exercise of raking in the hayfield. 

"Is this the house of Squire Drayton?" asked Neville, politelyraising his hat. 

The young lady, for such she evidently was, though so humblydressed--_simplex munditiis_--replied that it was, andinvited the stranger into the large and comfortable sitting-room, which bore evidence of refinement, although the carpet was ofwoven rags and much of the furniture was home-made. 

"I have a letter to him from Elder Ryan, " said Neville, presentinga document elaborately folded, after the manner of epistolarymissives of the period. 

"Oh, you're the new presiding elder, are you?" asked the lady. "Weheard you were coming. "

"No, not the presiding elder, " said Neville, smiling at theunwonted dignity attributed to him, "and not even an elder at all;but simply a Methodist preacher on trial--a junior, who may be anelder some day. "

"Excuse me, " said the young lady, blushing at her mistake. "Fatherhas just gone to the village for his paper, but will be backshortly. Zenas, take the preacher's horse, " she continued to astout lad who had just come in from the hayfield. 

"I will help him, " said Neville, proceeding with the boy. It wasthe almost invariable custom of the pioneer preachers to see thattheir faithful steeds were groomed and fed, before they attendedto their own wants. 

Miss Katherine Drayton--this was the young lady's name--was theeldest daughter of Squire Drayton, of The Holms, as the farm wascalled, from the evergreen oaks that grew upon the riverbank. Hermother having been dead for some years, Katherine had theprincipal domestic management of the household. This duty, withits accompanying cares, had given her a self-reliance and maturityof character beyond her years. She deftly prepared a tastefulsupper for the new guest, set out with snowy napery and with theseldom-used, best china. 

"Hello! what's up now?" asked her father, cheerily, as he enteredthe door. He is worth looking at as he stands on the threshold, almost filling the doorway with his large and muscular frame. Hehad a hearty, ruddy, English look, a frank and honest expressionin his light blue eyes, and an impulsiveness of manner thatindicated a temper--

 That carries anger as the flint bears fire, Which much enforced, showeth a hasty spark, And straight is cold again. 

He was not a Methodist, but his dead wife had been one, and forher sake, and because he had the instincts of a gentleman, ofrespect to the ministerial character, he extended a hospitablewelcome to the travelling Methodist preachers, who were almost theonly ministers in the country except the clergyman of the EnglishChurch in the neighbouring village of Niagara. 

"The new preacher has come, father. He brought this letter fromElder Ryan, " said Katherine, handing him the missive. 

The Squire glanced over it and said, "Any one that Elder Ryanintroduces is welcome to this house. He is a right loyalgentleman, if he did come from the States. I am afraid, though, that the war will make it unpleasant for most of those Yankeepreachers. "

"Why, father, is there any bad news?" anxiously inquired the younggirl. 

"Ay! that there is, " he replied, taking from his pocket the_York Gazette_, which had just reached Niagara, three or fourdays after the date of publication. 

Here the young preacher returned to the house, and was cordiallywelcomed by the Squire. When mutual greetings were over, "This isa bad business, " continued the host, unfolding the meagre, greyish-looking newspaper. "I feared it would come to this, eversince that affair of the _Little Belt_ and _President_last year. There is nothing John Bull is so sensitive about as hisships, and he can't stand defeat on the high seas. "

"War is not declared, I hope, " said Neville, with muchearnestness. 

"Yes, it is, " replied the Squire, "and what's more, Hull hascrossed the Detroit River with three thousand men. [Footnote:Rumour had somewhat exaggerated the number of his force. It wasonly twenty-five hundred. ] Here is part of his proclamation. Heoffers 'peace, liberty, and security, ' or, 'war, slavery, anddestruction. ' Confound his impudence, " exclaimed the cholericfarmer, striking his fist on the table till the dishes rattledagain. "He may whistle another tune before he is much older. "

"What'll Brock do, father?" exclaimed Zenas, who had listened witha boy's open-mouthed astonishment to the exciting news. 

"He'll be even with him, I'se warrant, " replied the burly Squire. "He will hasten to the frontier through the Long Point country, gathering up the militia and Indians as he goes. They are servingout blankets and ammunition at the fort to-night. I saw Brant atNavy Hall. He would answer for his two hundred tomahawks from theCredit and Grand River; and Tecumseh, he said, would muster asmany more. We'll soon hear good news from the front. TheCommissary has given orders for the victualling of Fort George. Weare to take in all our hay and oats, beef cattle, and flour nextweek. "

"O Father, mayn't I go with Brock"? exclaimed the young enthusiastZenas, "I'm old enough. "

"We may soon be busy enough here, my son. No place is more exposedthan this frontier. The garrisons at Forts Porter and Niagra arebeing strengthened, and I could see the Yankee militia drilling asI rode to the village. "

"Hurrah!" shouted the thoughtless boy, "won't it be fun? We'llshow them how the Britishers can fight. "

"God grant, my son, " said the farmer solemnly, "that we may notsee more fighting than we wish. I've lived through one bloody warand I never want to see another. But if fight we must for ourcountry, fight we will. "

"And I'm sure none more bravely than Zenas Drayton, " saidKatherine proudly, laying her hand on her brother's head. 

"You ought to have been a boy, Kate, " said her father admiringly. "You've got all your mother's pluck. "

"I'd be ashamed if I wouldn't stand up for my country, father: Ifeel as if I could carry a musket myself. "

"You can do better, Kate: you can make your country worth bravemen dying for, " and he fondly kissed her forehead, while somethinglike a tear glistened in his eyes. 

For a time Neville Trueman mused without speaking, as if the preyof conflicting emotions. At last he said with solemn emphasis, "Mychoice is made: I cast in my lot with my adopted country. Ibelieve this invasion of a peaceful territory by an armed host isa wanton outrage and cannot have the smile of Heaven. I daresay Ishall encounter obloquy and suspicion from both sides, but I mustobey my conscience. "

"Young man, I honour your choice, " exclaimed the Squireeffusively, grasping his hand with energy. "I know what it is toleave home, and kindred, and houses and lands for loyalty to myconscience and my King. I left as fair an estate as there was inthe Old Dominion because I could not live under any other flagthan the glorious Union Jack under which I was born. It was adislocating wrench to tear myself away from the home of mychildhood and the graves of my parents for an unknown wilderness. Much were we tossed about by sea and land. Our ship was wreckedand its passengers strewn like seaweed on the Nova Scotia coast--some living and some dead--and at last, after months of travel andprivation, on foot, in ox carts and in Durham boats, we found ourway, I and a few neighbours, to this spot, to hew out new homes inthe forest and keep our oath of allegiance to our King. "

The old U. E. Loyalist always grew eloquent as he referred to hisexile for conscience' sake and to the planting by the conscriptfathers of Canada of a new Troy under the aegis of British power. 

"_I_ came of regular Yankee stock, " said Mr. Trueman. "Mymother was a Neville--one of the Nevilles of Boston. She heardJesse Lee's first sermon on Boston Common, and joined the firstMethodist society in the old Bay State. My father was one of EthanAllen's Green Mountain Boys, and assisted at the capture ofTiconderoga. He was also a volunteer at Bunker Hill. It was thenhe met my mother, being billeted at her father's house. "

"You have rebel blood in you and no mistake, " said the Squire. 

"I believe the colonists were right in resisting oppression in'76, " continued Neville; "but I believe they are wrong in invadingCanada now, and I wash my hands of all share in their crime. "

"We will not quarrel about the old war, " said the veteranloyalist. "The _Gazette_ here says that many of yourcountrymen agree with you about the new one. At the declaration ofhostilities the flags of the shipping at Boston were placed athalf-mast and a public meeting denounced the war as ruinous andunjust. "

"I foresee a long and bloody strife, " said Neville. 

"Neither country will yield without a tremendous struggle. It isungenerous to attack Great Britain now, when, as the champion ofhuman liberty, she is engaged in a death-wrestle with the archdespot Napoleon. "

"But Wellington will soon thrash Boney, " interjected Zenas, whowas an ardent admirer of the Peninsular hero, "and then hisredcoats will polish off the Yankees, won't they, father?"

"If you had seen as much of the horrors of war, my boy, as I have, you would not be so eager for it. God forbid it should deluge thisfrontier with blood; but if it do, old as I am, I will shoulderthe old Brown Bess there above the fireplace that your grandfatherbore at Brandywine and Yorktown. "

"What I dread most is the effect on religion, " said Trueman. "Several of the Methodist preachers are, like myself, American-born, and we all are stationed by an American bishop. I am afraidmany will go back to the States, and all will be liable tosuspicion as disloyal to this country by the bigoted andprejudiced. But I shall not forsake my post, nor leave thesepeople as sheep without a shepherd. If there is to be war andbloodshed and wounds and sudden death on this frontier circuit, they will need a preacher all the more, and, God helping me, I'llnot desert them. 

"I am a man of peace, and fight not with worldly weapons, but Ican, perhaps, help those who do. "

"God bless you for that speech, my brave lad, " exclaimed theSquire. "Nobody questions _my_ loyalty, and if need arise, I'll give you a paper, signed with my name as a magistrate, thatwill protect you from harm. "

Kate had sat quiet, busily sewing, during this conversation, buther heightened colour and her quickened breathing bore witnessthat she was no uninterested listener. With a look of deepgratitude, she quietly said, "We are all very much obliged to you, Mr. Neville, for your noble resolve. "

The young man thought that grateful look ample compensation forthe mental sacrifice that he had made, and an inspiration tounfaltering fidelity in carrying it into effect. 

The next morning all was bustle and excitement at the farmhouse. "All hands were piped, " to use a sea phrase, to aid in therevictualling of the fort, the orders for which were urgent. Breakfast was served in the huge kitchen, the squire, his guest, his children, and the hired men all sitting at the same table, like a feudal lord, with his men-at-arms, in an old baronial hall. 

"Father, " said Zenas, "Tom Loker and Sandy McKay have gone offwith the militia. They went to the village last night and signedthe muster-roll. I saw them marching past with some more of theboys and the redcoats early this morning. "

"I saw them, too, " said the squire. "They needn't have given methe slip that way. It will leave me short-handed; but I wouldn'thave said nay if they wanted to go. "

After breakfast Neville mounted his horse and rode off to theplace appointed for holding the Methodist Conference, --the newmeeting-house near St. David's. He soon overtook the detachment ofmilitia, which was marching to join, at Long Point, the main forcewhich Brock was to lead thither from York by way of Ancaster. Henoticed that the men, though tolerably well armed, were veryindifferently shod for their long tramp over rough roads. They hadno pretence to uniform save a belt and cartouch box, and a blanketrolled up tightly and worn like a huge scarf. As He walked hishorse for awhile beside Tom Loker who had groomed his horse thenight before, he told him what the squire had said about hisjoining the militia. 

"Did he now?" said Tom. "Then my place will be open for me when Ireturn. We'll be back time enough to help run in that beef and porkinto the fort, won't we, Sandy?"

"That's as God pleases, " said the Scotchman, a sturdy, grave-visaged man. "Ilka bullet has its billet; an' gin we're to coomback, back we'll coom, though it rained bullets all the way. "

Neville bade them God speed and rode on to "Warner's meeting-house, " as it was called. It was a large frame structure, utterlydevoid of ornament, near the roadside. "Hitching" his horse to thefence, he went in. A meagre handful of Methodist preachers werepresent--not more than a dozen--indeed, the entire number in theprovince was very little more than that. In the chair, in front ofthe quaint, old-fashioned pulpit, which the present writer hasoften occupied, sat a man who would attract attention anywhere. Hewas nearly six feet in height, and of very muscular development;indeed tradition asserted that he had once been a prize-fighter. His dark hair was closely cut, which increased his resemblance tothat especially unclerical and un-Methodistic character. This wasthe Rev. Henry Ryan, the Presiding Elder of the Upper CanadaDistrict--extending from Brockville to the Detroit River. [Footnote: The whole of Lower Canada formed another district, ofwhich the celebrated Nathan Bangs was at that time PresidingElder. ] In a full rich voice, in which the least shade of an Irishaccent could be discerned, he was addressing the little group ofmen before him. The ministers labouring in Canada had expected tomeet their American brethren; but, on account of the outbreak ofthe war, the latter had remained on their own side of the river, and held their Conference near Rochester, New York State. Thebishop, however, appointed the Canadian ministers to theircircuits, but the relations of Methodism in the two countries werealmost entirely interrupted during the war. A few of the ministerslabouring in Canada obeyed what they conceived the dictates ofprudence, and returned to the United States; but the most of them, although cut off from fellowship, and largely from sympathy withthe Conference and Church by which they were appointed, continuedsteadfast at their posts and loyal to the institutions of thecountry, notwithstanding the obloquy, suspicion, and persecutionto which they were often subjected. In this course they weregreatly sustained and encouraged by the unfaltering faith andenergy of Elder Ryan, who, though subsequently in his history hebecame a religious agitator, was at this period a most zealous andeffective preacher, one who, in the words of Bishop Hedding, "laboured as if the thunders of the day of judgment were to followeach sermon. " During the agitations and civil convulsions by whichthe country was disturbed, he continued to meet the preachers inannual conference, and endeavoured to maintain the ecclesiasticalorganization of Methodism till it was permitted to renew itsrelations with the mother Church of the United States. 

On the present occasion, Elder Ryan gave a rousing exhortation, like the address of a general on the eve of a battle, thatinspired courage in every heart. Then followed a few hours ofdeliberation and mutual council on the course to be adopted in thecritical circumstances of the time. Certain prudentialarrangements were made for maintaining the connexional unity ofthe Church under the stress of disorganizing influences, andcertain provisions effected for the unforeseen contingencies ofthe war. Then, after commending one another to God in ferventprayer, and invoking His guidance of their lives and His blessingon their labours, they sang that noble battle hymn and marchingsong of Charles Wesley's:--

 In flesh we part awhile, But still in spirit joined, To embrace the happy toil Thou hast to each assigned; And while we do Thy blessed will, We bear our heaven about us still. 

They looked like a forlorn hope, like a despised and feebleremnant, but they were animated with the spirit of a conqueringarmy. With many a hearty wring of the hand and fervent "God blessyou!" and, not without eyes suffused with tears, they took theirleave of one another, and fared forth on their lonely ways totheir remote and arduous fields of toil. 

CHAPTER II. 

THE EVE OF BATTLE. 

The next scene of our story opens on the eve of an eventful day inthe annals of Canada. About sunset in an October afternoon, Neville Trueman reached The Holms, after a long and weary ridefrom the western end of his circuit, which reached nearly to thehead of Lake Ontario. The forest was gorgeous in its autumnalfoliage, like Joseph in his coat of many colours. The corn stillstood thick, in serried ranks, in the fields, no longer plumed andtasseled like an Indian chief, but rustling, weird-like, as anarmy of spectres in the gathering gloom. The great yellow pumpkinsgleamed like huge nuggets of gold in some forest Eldorado. Thecrimson patches of ripened buckwheat looked like a blood-stainedfield of battle: alas! too true an image of the deeper stainswhich were soon to dye the greensward of the neighbouring height. 

The change from the bleak moor, over which swept the chill northwind from the lonely lake, to the genial warmth of SquireDrayton's hospitable kitchen was most agreeable. A merry fire ofhickory wood on the ample hearth--it was long before the time ofyour close, black, surly-looking kitchen stoves--snapped andsparkled its hearty welcome to the travel-worn guest. It was arich Rembrant-like picture that greeted Neville as he entered theroom. The whole apartment was flooded with light from the leapingflames which was flashed back from the brightly-scoured milk-pansand brass kettles on the dresser--not unlike, thought he, to theburnished shields and casques of the men-at-arms in an old feudalhall. 

The fair young mistress, clad in a warm stuff gown, with a snowycollar and a crimson necktie, moved gracefully through the room, preparing the evening meal. Savoury odours proceeded from a panupon the coals, in which were frying tender cutlets of venison--now a luxury, then, in the season, an almost daily meal. 

The burly squire basked in the genial blaze, seated in a rudehome-made armchair, the rather uncomfortable-looking back and armsof which were made of cedar roots, with the bark removed, like ourgarden rustic seats. Such a chair has Cowper in his "Task"described, --

 "Three legs upholding firm A messy slab, in fashion square or round. On such a stool immortal Alfred sat, And swayed the sceptre of his infant realms: And such in ancient halls may still be found. "

At his feet crouched Lion, the huge staghound, at times halfgrowling in his sleep, as if in dreams he chased the deer, andthen, starting up, he licked his master's hand and went to sleepagain. 

On the opposite side of the hearth, Zenas was crouched upon thefloor, laboriously shaping an ox-yoke with a spoke-shave. For inthose days Canadian farmers were obliged to make or mend almosteverything they used upon the farms. 

Necessity, which is the mother of invention, made them deft andhandy with axe and adze, bradawl and waxed end, anvil and forge. The squire himself was no mean blacksmith, and could shoe a horse, or forge a plough coulter, or set a tire as well as the villageVulcan at Niagara. 

"Right welcome, " said the squire, as he made room for Neville nearthe fireplace, while Katherine gave him a quieter greeting andpolitely relieved him of his wrappings. "Well, what's the newsoutside?" he continued, we must explain that as Niagara, next toYork and Kingston, was the largest settlement in the province, itrather looked down upon the population away from "the front, " asit was called, as outsiders almost beyond the pale ofcivilization. 

"No news at all, " replied Neville, "but a great anxiety to hearsome. When I return from the front, they almost devour me withquestions. "

The early Methodist preachers, in the days when newspapers orbooks were few and scarce, and travel almost unknown, were in onerespect not unlike the wandering minstrels or trouveres, not tosay the Homeric singers of an earlier day. Their stock of news, their wider experience, their intelligent conversation, and theirsacred minstrelsy procured them often a warm welcome and a night'slodging outside of Methodist circles. They diffused much usefulinformation, and their visits dispelled the mental stagnationwhich is almost sure to settle upon an isolated community. Thewhole household gathering around the evening fire, hung with eagerattention upon their lips as, from their well-stored minds, theybrought forth things new and old. Many an inquisitive boy or girlexperienced a mental awakening or quickening by contact with theirsuperior intelligence; and many a toil-worn man and woman renewedthe brighter memories of earlier years as the preacher broughtthem glimpses of the outer world, or read from some well-wornvolume carried in his saddle-bags pages of some much-prizedEnglish classic. 

"Well, there has been news in plenty along the line here, " saidthe squire, "and likely soon to be more. The Americans have beenmassing their forces at Forts Porter, Schlosser, and Niagara, andwe expect will be attempting a crossing somewhere along the riversoon. "

"They'll go back quicker than they came, I guess, as they did atSandwich, " said Zenas, who took an enthusiastically patriotic viewof the prowess of his countrymen. 

"I reckon the 'Mericans feel purty sore over that business, " saidTom Loker, who, with Sandy McKay, had come in, and, in theunconventional style of the period, had drawn up their seats tothe fire. "They calkilated they'd gobble up the hull of Canada;but 'stead of that, they lost the hull State of Michigan an' theirgreat General Hull into the bargain, " and he chuckled over hisplay upon words, after the manner of a man who has uttered asuccessful pun. 

"You must tell us all about it, " said Neville: "I have not heardthe particulars yet. "

"After supper, " said the squire. "We'll discuss the venison firstand the war afterwards, " and there was a general move to thetable. 

When ample justice had been done to the savoury repast, MissKatherine intimated that a good fire had been kindled in theFranklin stove in the parlour, and, in honour of the guest, proposed an adjournment thither. 

The squire, however, looked at the leaping flames of the kitchenfire as if reluctant to leave it, and Neville asked as a favour tobe allowed to bask, "like a cat in the sun, " he said, before it. 

"I'm glad you like the old-fashioned fires, " said the farmer. "They're a-most like the camp-fire beside which we used to bivouacwhen I went a-sogering. I can't get the hang o' those new-fangledYankee notions, " he continued, referring to the parlour stove, named after the great philosopher whose name it bore. 

A large semicircle of seats was drawn up around the hearth. Thesquire took down from the mantel his long-stemmed "churchwarden"pipe. 

"I learned to smoke in Old Virginny, " he said apologetically. "Hadthe real virgin leaf. It had often to be both meat and drink whenI was campaigning there. I wish I could quit it; but, young man, "addressing himself to Neville, "I'd advise you never to learn. It's bad enough for an old sojer like me; but a smoking preacher Idon't admire. "

Zenas, crouched by the chimney-jamb, roasting chestnuts and"popping" corn; Sandy, with the characteristic thrift of hiscountrymen, set about repairing a broken whip-stock and fitting itwith a new lash; Tom Loker idly whittled a stick, and MissKatharine drew up her low rocking-chair beside her father, andproceeded to nimbly knit a stout-ribbed stocking, intended for hiscomfort--for girls in those days knew how to knit, ay, and cardthe wool and spin the yarn too. 

"Now, Tom, tell us all about Hull's surrender, " said Zenas, towhom the stirring story was already an oft-told tale. 

"Wall, after I seed you, three months agone, " said Tom, nodding toNeville, and taking a fresh stick to whittle, "we trudged on allthat day and the next to Long P'int, an' a mighty long p'int itwuz to reach, too. Never wuz so tired in my life. Follering theplough all day wuz nothing to it. But when we got to the P'int, wefound the Gineral there. An' he made us a rousin' speech that putnew life into every man of us, an' we felt that we could follerhim anywheres. As ther wuz no roads to speak of, and the Gineralhad considerable stores, he seized all the boats he could find. "

"Requiseetioned, they ca' it, " interjected Sandy. 

"Wall, it's purty much the same, I reckon, " continued Tom, "an' aqueer lot o' boats they wuz--fishin' boats, Durham boats, scows[Footnote: In the absence of roads, boats were much used forcarrying corn and flour to and from the mills, and for theconveyance of farm produce. ]--a'most anythin' that 'ud float. Ther' wuz three hundred of us at the start, an' we picked up moreon the way. Wall, we sailed an' paddled a matter o' two hundredmiles to Fort Malden, an' awful cramped it wuz, crouchin' all dayin them scows; an' every night we camped on shore, but sometimesthe bank wuz so steep an' the waves so high we had to sail on formiles to find a creek we could run into, an' once we rowed allnight. As we weathered P'int Pelee, the surf nearly swamped us. "

"What a gran' feed we got frae thae gallant Colonel Talbot!"interjected Sandy McKay. "D'ye mind his bit log bothie perchedlike a craw's nest atop o' yon cliff. The 'Castle o' Malahide, ' heca'd it, no less. How he speered gin there were ony men fraeMalahide in the auld kintry wi' us! An' a prood man he was o' hisancestry sax hunnerd years lang syne. Methinks he's the gran'esto' the name himsel'--the laird o' a score o' toonships a' settledby himsel'. Better yon than like the gran' Duke o' Sutherlanddrivin' thae puir bodies frae hoose an' hame. Lang suld Canadamind the gran' Colonel Talbot [Footnote: Posterity has not beenungrateful to the gallant colonel. In the towns of St. Thomas andTalbotville, his name is commemorated, and it is fondly cherishedin the grateful traditions of many an early settler's family. Hedied at London, at the age of eighty, in 1853. ] But was na it feythat him as might hae the pick an' choice o' thae braw dames o'Ireland suld live his lane, wi' out a woman's han' to cook hiskail or recht up his den, as he ca'd it. "

"I've been at his castle, " said Neville, "and very comfortable itis: He lives like a feudal lord, --allots land, dispenses justice, marries the settlers, reads prayers on Sunday, and rules thesettlement like a forest patriarch. " "Tell about Tecumseh, " saidZenas, in whose eyes that distinguished chief divided the honourswith General Brock. 

"Wall, " continued Loker, "at Malden there wuz a grand pow-wow, an'the Indians wore their war-paint and their medals, and Tecumsehmade a great harangue. He was glad, he said, their great fatheracross the sea had woke up from his long sleep an' sent hiswarriors to help his red children, who would shed the last drop oftheir blood in fighting against the 'Merican long knives. " "Andthey'll do it, too, " chimed in Zenas, in unconscious prophecy ofthe near approaching death of that brave chief and many of hiswarriors. 

"An' Tecumseh, " continued the narrator, "drawed a map of Detroitan' the 'Merican fort on a piece o' birch bark, as clever, Iheered the Gineral say, as an officer of engineers. "

"But was na yon a gran' speech thae General made us when we weretauld tae attack thae fort?" exclaimed Sandy with martialenthusiasm. "Mon, it made me mind o' Wallace an' his 'Scots whamBruce hae aften led. ' I could ha' followed him 'gainst ony odds, though odds eneuch there were--near twa tae ane, an' thae big gunsan' thae fort tae their back. "

"Wasn't I glad to see the white flag come from the fort as weformed column for assault, instead o' the flash o' the big guns, showin' their black muzzles there, " Loker ingenuously confessed. "I'm no coward, but it makes a feller feel skeery to see thoseugly-lookin' war dogs splttin' fire at him. "

"Hae na I tell't ye, " said Sandy, somewhat sardonically, "ginye're born tae be hangit, the bullet's no made that'll kill ye. "

"Ye're as like to be hanged yerself, " said Tom, somewhatresentfully, giving the proverb a rather literal interpretation. 

"Tush, mon, nae offence, its ony an auld Scotch saw, that. But anangry mon was yon tall Captain Scott [Footnote: Afterwards Major-General Scott, Commander-in-Chief of the United States army. Theprisoners were sent to Montreal and Quebec. Hull was subsequentlycourt-marshalled for cowardice and condemned to death, but he wasreprieved on account of Revolutionary service. ] at thae surrender. How he stamped an' raved an' broke his sword. "

"I am sure the Gineral was very kind to them. On our march home, the prisoners shared and fared as well as we did. "

"I heard, " said Neville, "that Hull was afraid the Indians wouldmassacre the women and children who had taken refuge in the fort. "

"No fear of that, " said Loker. "Tecumseh told the Gineral they hadsworn off liquor during the war. It's the fire-water that makesthe Indian a madman, an' the white man, too. "

"Well, thank God, " said Neville, "it is a great and bloodlessvictory. I hope it will bring a speedy peace. "

"I am afraid not, " said the squire, arousing from his doze in the"ingle nook. " "We had a seven years' struggle of it in the oldwar, and I fear that there will have to be some blood-lettingbefore these bad humours are cufed. But we'll hope for the best. Come, Katharine, bring us a flagon of your sweet cider. "

The sturdy brown flagon was brought, and the gleaming pewter mugswere filled--it was long before the days of Temperance Societies--even the preacher thinking it no harm to take his mug of thesweet, amber-coloured draught. 

Neville read from the great family Bible that night the majesticforty-sixth psalm, so grandly paraphrased in Luther's hymn, "Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott;"

the favourite battle-hymn, chanting which the Protestant armiesmarched to victory on many a hard-fought field--the hymn sung bythe host of Gustavus Adolphus on the eve of the fatal fight ofLutzen. 

As he read the closing verses of the psalm the young preacher'svoice assumed the triumphant tone of assured faith in the gloriousprophecy:

"He maketh wars to cease unto the ends of the earth; He breakeththe bow and cutteth the spear in sunder; He burneth the chariot inthe fire. 

"Be still, and know that I am God: I will be exalted among theheathen, I will be exalted in the earth. 

"The Lord of Hosts is with us, the God of Jacob is our refuge. "

"Amen!" unconsciously but fervently responded the soft low voiceof Katherine Drayton to this prophecy of millennial peace, andthis solemn avowal of present confidence in the Most High. 

Alas! before to-morrow's sun should set, her woman's heart shouldbleed at the desolations of war brought home to her veryhearthstone. 

CHAPTER III. 

QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. 

About seven miles from the mouth of the Niagara River, a boldescarpment of rock, an old lake margin, runs across the countryfrom east to west, at a height of about three hundred feet abovethe level of Lake Ontario. Through this the river, in the courseof ages, has worn a deep and gloomy gorge. At the foot of thecliff and on its lower slopes, nestled on the western side thehamlet of Queenston and on the eastern the American village ofLewiston. On the Canadian side, where the ascent of the hill wasmore abrupt, it was overcome by a road that by a series of sharpzigzags gained the tableland at the top. Halfway up the height wasa battery mounting an 18-pound gun, and manned by twelve men, andon the bank of the river, some distance below the village, wasanother mounting a 24-pound carronade. On either side of the rockypass from which the river flows, the spiry spruces and cedars withtwisted roots grapple with the rocks and cling to the steepslopes. 

The river emerges from the narrow gorge, a dark and torturedstream. For seven miles since its plunge over the great cataract, it has been convulsed by raging rapids and rugged rocks and by aseething whirlpool. As it here glides out into a wider channel, itbears the evidences of its tumultuous course in the resistlesssweep of its waters and the dangerous eddies and "boilers" bywhich its dark surface is disturbed. At this point is a favouritefishing-ground. The schools of herring attempting to ascend theriver are here unable to overcome the swiftness of the current andare caught in large quantities by the rude seines and nets of theneighbouring fishermen, a waggon-load sometimes being caught in afew hours. Notwithstanding the invasion of Canada by Hull and thecapture of Detroit by Brock, a sort of armed truce was observedalong the Niagara frontier; and Brock had orders from Sir GeorgeProvost, Commander-in-Chief and Governor-General, to standstrictly on the defensive. As the schools of fish at this seasonof the year were running finely, the fishermen of the villages oneach side of the river were eagerly engaged in securing theirfinny harvest, on which much of their winter food supply depended. As this was a mutual necessity, each party, by a tacit consent, was allowed to ply this peaceful avocation, for the most part, undisturbed by hostile demonstrations of the other. 

For the defence of the whole frontier of thirty-four miles fromFort Erie to Fort George, Brock had only some fifteen hundred men, of whom at least one-half were militiamen and Indians. On theAmerican side of the river, a force of over six thousand regularsand militia were assembled for the invasion of Canada. These weredistributed along the river from Fort Niagara to Buffalo. Brockwas compelled, therefore, still further to weaken his alreadyscanty force by being on the alert at all points, as he knew notat which one the attack would be made. Consequently there wereonly some three hundred men, mostly militia, quartered atQueenston at the time of which we write. They were billeted at theinn and houses of the village and in the neighbouring farmhousesand barns. 

The morning of the thirteenth of October, a day ever memorable inthe annals of Canada, broke cold and stormy. Low hung cloudsmantled the sky and made the late dawn later still, and cast stilldarker shadows on the sombre clumps of spruce and pines thatclothed the sides of the gorge, and on the sullen water thatflowed between. A couple of fishermen of the neighbourhood whowere serving in the militia had been permitted by the officer incommand to attend to their seines, with the injunction to keep asharp look-out at the same time, and to be ready at an instant'ssummons to join the ranks. As the schools of herring were in fullrun, they had remained all night in the little bothie or hut, madeof spruce boughs, down at the water-side, that they might at theearliest dawn draw their seine and set it again unmolested by thestray shots from the opposite side, which, notwithstanding thetruce, had of late occasionally been fired. At the same season ofthe year, the same operation can still be witnessed at the sameplace--the narrow ledge beneath the cliff, along the river-bank, especially near the abutment of the broken Suspension Bridge. 

The elder of the two men was a sturdy Welshman--Jonas Evans byname--a Methodist of the Lady Huntingdon connexion. The other, JimLarkins, was Canadian born, the son of a neighbouring farmer. About four o'clock in the morning they emerged from their sprucebooth and began hauling with their rude windlass upon the seine, heavily laden with fish. 

"Hark!" exclaimed Jonas to his companion, "what noise is that? Ithought I heard the splash of oars. "

"It is only the wash of the waves upon the shore or the sough ofthe wind among the pines. You're likely to hear nothing else thistime o' day, or o' night rather. "

"There it is again, " said the old man, peering into the darkness, "And I'm sure I heard the sound o' voices on the river. Seethere!" he exclaimed as a long dark object was descried amid thegloom. "There is a boat, and there behind it is another; and Idoubt not there are still others behind. Run, Jim, call out theguard. The Lord hath placed us here to confound the devices of theenemy. "

Snatching from the booth his trusty Brown Bess musket, withoutwaiting to challenge, for he well knew that this was the vanguardof the threatened invasion, he fired at the boat, more for thepurpose of giving the alarm than in the expectation of inflictingany damage on the moving object in the uncertain light. 

The sound of the musket shot echoed and re-echoed between therocky cliffs, and repeated in loud reverberations its thrillingsound of warning. 

"Curse him! we are discovered, " exclaimed the steersman of theforemost boat, with a brutal oath. "Spring to your oars, lads! Wemust gain a footing before the guard turns out or it's all up withus. Pull for your lives!"

No longer rowing cautiously with muffled oars, but with loudshouts and fairly churning the surface of the water into foam, they made the boat--a large flat-bottomed barge--bound through thewaves. Another and another emerged rapidly from the darkness, andtheir prows successively grated upon the shingle as they wereforced upon the beach. The invading troops leaped lightly out witha clash of arms, and at the quick, sharp word of command, formedupon the beach. 

Meanwhile, on the cliff above, the sharp challenge and reply ofthe guard, the shrill _reveille_ of the bugle, and the quickthrobbing of the drums calling to arms is heard. The men turn outwith alacrity, and are soon seen, in the grey dawn, running fromtheir several billets to headquarters, buckling their belts andadjusting their accoutrements as they run. Soon is heard themeasured tramp of armed men forming in companies to attack theenemy. Sixty men of the 49th Grenadiers, under the command ofCaptain Dennis, and Captain Halt's company of militia advance witha light 3-pounder gun against the first division of the enemy, under Colonel Van Renssclaer, who has formed his men on the beachand is waiting the arrival of the next boats. These are seenrapidly approaching, but to get them safely across the river is awork of great difficulty and danger. The current is swift, and theswirling eddies are strong and constantly changing their position. On leaving the American shore, they were obliged to pull up streamas far as possible. But when caught by the resistless sweep of thecurrent, they were borne rapidly down, their track being an acutediagonal across the stream. To reach the only available landing-place, they must again row up stream in the slack water on theCanadian side, their whole course being thus like the outline ofthe letter 'N'. [Footnote: The present writer has a vividremembrance of a night-passage of the river under circumstances ofsome peril. It was in a small flat-bottomed scow. Shortly afterleaving the American shore, a tremendous storm of thunder, lightning, rain, and hail burst over the river. The waves, crestedwith snowy foam which gleamed ghastly in the dim light of ourlantern, threatened to engulf our frail bark. The boatman strainedevery nerve and muscle, but was borne a mile down the river beforehe made the land. That distance he had to retrace along therugged, boulder-strewn, and log-encumbered shore. We reached thelanding in a still more demoralized condition than the Americaninvaders, but met a warmly hospitable, not hostile, reception. ]

Of the thirteen boats that left the American shore, three weredriven back by the British fire--the little three-pounder and thetwo batteries doing good service as their hissing shots fell indisagreeably close proximity to the boats, sometimes splashingthem with spray, and once ricocheting right over one of them. 

The first detachment of invaders were driven with some loss behinda steep bank close to the water's edge, but they were soonreinforced by fresh arrivals, and, being now in overwhelmingstrength, steadily fought their way up the bank. 

Meanwhile, where was Brock? Such, we venture to think, was themost eager thought of every mind on either side. He was speedingas fast as his good steed could carry him to his glorious fate. The previous night, at head-quarters at Fort George, he had calledhis staff together and, in anticipation of the invasion, had givento each officer his instructions. In the morning, agreeably to hiscustom, he rose before day. While dressing, the sound of thedistant cannonade caught his attentive ear. He speedily roused hisaides-de-camp, Major Glegg and Colonel Macdonel, and called forhis favourite horse, Alfred, the gift of his friend, Sir JamesCraig. His first impression was that the distant firing was but afeint to draw the garrison from Fort George. The real point ofattack he anticipated would be Niagara, and he suspected anAmerican force to be concealed in boats around the point on whichFort Niagara stood, ready to cross over as soon as the coast wasclear. He determined, therefore, to ascertain personally thenature of the attack before withdrawing the garrison. 

With his two aides, he galloped eagerly to the scene of theaction. As he approached Queenston Heights, the whole slope of thehill was swept by a heavy artillery and musketry fire from theAmerican shore. Nevertheless, with his aides, he rode at fullspeed up to the 18-pounder battery, midway to the summit. Dismounting, he surveyed the disposition of the opposed forces andpersonally directed the fire of the gun. At this moment firing washeard on the crest of the hill commanding the battery. Adetachment of American troops under Captain (afterwards General)Wool had climbed like catamounts the steep cliff by an unguardedfisherman's path. Sir Isaac Brock and his aides had not even timeto remount, but were compelled to retire with the twelve gunnerswho manned the battery. This was promptly occupied by theAmericans, who raised the stars and stripes. Brock, having firstdespatched a messenger to order up reinforcements from Fort Georgeand to command the bombardment of Fort Niagara, [Footnote: Thiswas done with such vigour that its fire was silenced and itsgarrison compelled for the time to abandon it. ] determined torecapture the battery. Placing himself at the head of a company ofthe Forty-ninth he charged up the hill under a heavy fire. Theenemy gave way, and Brock, by the tones of his voice and thereckless exposure of his person, inspirited the pursuit of hisfollowers. His tall figure--he was six feet two inches in height, --his conspicuous valour, and his general's epaulettes and cockadeattracted the fire of the American sharpshooters, and he fell, pierced through the breast by a mortal bullet. As he fell upon hisface, a devoted follower rushed to his assistance. "Don't mindme, " he said. "Push on the York volunteers, " and with his ebbinglife sending a love-message to his sister in the far-off Isle ofGuernsey, the brave soul passed away. 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE WAGES OF WAR. 

At The Holms, as may well be supposed, the rude alarum of war, atthe very door, as it were, threw the quiet household into unwontedexcitement. The early cannonade brought every member of the familywith eager questioning into the great kitchen. 

"It has come, " said the squire, "the day I have long looked for. We muse meet it like brave men. "

"God defend the right, " added Neville, with solemn emotion. 

"And forgive and pity our misguided enemies, " said Katharine, thetears standing in her eyes. 

"And send them back quicker than they came, " exclaimed Zenas, withsome more hard words of boyish petulance. 

"We must help to send them, eh, Sandy?" said Tom Loker. 

"Ay, please God, " devoutly answered Mr. McKay. "I doubt na He willbreak them in pieces like a potter's vessel--a vessel fitted fordestruction. "

After a hurried breakfast the two men hastened to join theirmilitia company, Mary having first filled their haversacks with aliberal supply of bread and cheese, ham sandwich, and, at Sandy'sspecial request, a quantity of oaten bannocks. 

"They're aye gude to fecht or march on, " he said, "an' we're likeeneuch to hae baith to thole or ere we win hame again. "

The apparition of Sir Isaac Brock and his aides galloping past thehouse in the early dawn, and an hour later of the breathlessmessenger returning to hurry up re-enforcements, and of the troopsfrom Fort George marching by to the inspiring strains of "TheBritish Grenadiers, " had been witnessed by Zenas, and had excitedhis highest enthusiasm. "Now, father, " he said, "the time has comefor me to do my part for my country. "

"You shall, my son, " said the squire tenderly. "Even as David wentto his brethren in the camp, shall you bear succour to the bravefellows who are fighting our battles. Some of them may sorely wanthelp before the day is over. "

"And I, " said Neville, "will go with him. I hope I may be of someuse, too. "

"That you may, " answered the squire. "I only fear there may be buttoo much need for your services. "

With busy hands the old soldier and his son loaded the waggon withsuch articles as his military experience had taught him would bemost needed by men exposed to all the deadly vicissitudes of war. Katharine prepared a great boilerful of tea--"The best thing inthe world, " said the squire, "for fighting men. " All the bread inthe house, a huge round of cold beef and half a dozen smoked hams, a large cheese, several jars of milk, and the last churning ofgreat yellow rolls of butter were gladly given to the patrioticservice. With his own hands the squire put up a generous parcel ofhis best Virginia leaf tobacco. "I know well, " he said, "how itsoothes the pain of wounds and numbs the pangs of hunger. " Morethoughtful provision still, Kate, with a sigh, brought out thestout roll of lint bandage which, at her father's suggestion, shehad prepared for the unknown contingencies of the border war. 

"O this is dreadful, father, " she said. "It seems almost likemaking a shroud before the man who is to wear it is dead. "

"It may save some poor fellow's life, my dear, " he answered, "andone must always prepare for the worst, war is such an uncertaingame. Indeed, wounds and death are almost the only things certainabout it. "

"Keep in the rear of the troops, my son, and take your orders fromMajor Sheaffe or of the army surgeon. I told them both what wewere sending, as they passed. Keep out of gunshot and avoidcapture: the time may come only too soon when you'll share thebattle's brunt yourself. "

"I wish it were to-day, father. I'd give almost anything to bewith Brock and his brave fellows. "

"So would I, my son; but I must be the home-guard. It would neverdo to leave Kate and the maids unprotected, with an invasion sonear. And no work can be more important than may be before youboth before you return. "

The brave boy drove off to the scene of action, the distant rattleof musketry, and at short intervals the loud roar of the cannon, making his heart throb with martial enthusiasm. The young preachercommuned with his own heart on the unnatural conflict between hisown kinsmen after the flesh and the compatriots of his spiritualadoption--and was still. The brave old veteran, shouldering themusket that had done good service at Brandywine and Germantown, patrolled the river road bounding the farm. 

As they approached the village of Queenston, Neville and Zenasfound that a temporary lull in hostilities had taken place. TheAmericans had possession of the heights, and were strongly re-enforced from the Lewiston side of the river. 

The redcoats from Fort George--about four hundred men of the 41stregiment, together with a part of the 49th, which had already beenin action--were about to march by a by-road apparently away fromthe scene of action. 

"Hello!" said Zenas to young Ensign Norton, of the 41st regiment, who was a frequent visitor at his father's house. "I don'tunderstand this. You are not running away from these fellows areyou? Why don't you drive the Yankees from that battery?"

"We intend to, young Hotspur, but it would be madness to charge upthat hill in face of those guns. We are to take them in flank, Isuppose, and drive them over the cliff. "

"Where's Brock?" asked the boy, jealous of the fame of his hero, which he seemed to think compromised by this prudent counsel. 

"Have not you heard, " said Norton, with something between a sighand a sob? "He'll never lead us again. He lies in yonder house, "pointing to a long, low, poor-looking dwelling-house on the leftside of the road. 

"What! dead? killed--so soon?" cried the boy, turning white, andthen flushing red, and unconsciously clenching his fists as hespoke. 

"Yes, Mister, " said a war-bronzed soldier standing by, who lookeddoubly grim from the blood trickling down his powder-blackenedcheek from a scalp wound received during the morning skirmish. "Istood anear him when he fell, an' God knows I'd rather the bullethad struck me; my fighting days will soon be over, anyhow. Butwe'll avenge his death afore the day is done. They call us thegreen tigers, them fellers do, an' there's not a man of us won'tfight like a tiger robbed of her whelps, for not a man of uswouldn't 'a' died for the General. "

"To the right, wheel, forward march!" came the order from theColonel, and the "green tigers" filed on with the grim resolve toconquer or to die. 

The militia, clad chiefly in homespun frieze, with flint-lockmuskets and stout cartridge boxes at their belts, were drawn up atthe roadside, and were being supplied with ammunition, previous tofollowing the regulars. 

A number of Indians, whose chief dress was a breach clout anddeerskin leggings, formidable in their war-paint and war plumes, with scalping-knives and tomahawks, were only partially held inhand by Chief Brant, conspicuous by his height, his wampum filletand eagle plumes, and his King George's medal on his breast. 

"Drive on to the village, " said Major-General Sheaffe, who was nowchief in command, to Zenas as he passed. "You will find plenty todo there. "

At the house where Brock's body lay, a single sentry stood atguard, his features settled in a fixed and stony stare, as thoughby a resolute effort controlling his emotions. Beyond the villagea strong guard was drawn up, and two field pieces, with theirgunners, occupied the road. 

Soldiers were passing in and out of a large barn which stood nearthe roadside. They came in groups of two each from the trampledhill slope, bearing on stretchers their ghastly burden of bleedingand wounded men. Although coming within musket-range of theAmerican force, no molestation was offered. Their work of humanitywas felt to be too sacred for even red-handed War to disturb. Indeed, both American and British wounded were cared for withgenerous impartiality. 

Zenas and Neville, assisted by an officer's orderly, conveyedtheir hospital stores into the barn. On bundles of unthreshedwheat, or on trusses of hay, were a number of writhing, groaning, bleeding forms, a few hours since in the vigour of manhood'sstrength, now maimed, some of them for life, some of them markedfor death, and one ghastly form already cold and rigid, covered bya blood-stained sheet At one side they beheld an army surgeon withhis sleeves rolled up, but, notwithstanding this precaution, smeared with blood, kneeling over a poor fellow who lay upon atruss of hay, and probing his shoulder to trace and, if possible, extract a bullet that had deeply penetrated. 

"Why, Jim Larkins, is that you?" exclaimed Zenas, recognizing anold neighbour and recent schoolfellow. 

"Yes, Zenas, all that's left of me. I won't fight no more for onewhile, I guess, " he answered, as he moaned with agony as thedoctor probed the wound. 

"Give him a drink, " said the doctor, and Zenas, as tenderly as agirl, supported his head and held to his parched lips a mug ofcold and refreshing tea. 

"Blessings on the kind heart that sent that, " said the woundedman. 

"It was Kate, " said Zenas. 

"I knowed it must be, " murmured Jim, who was one of her rusticadmirers. "Tell her, " he continued, in the natural egotism ofsuffering, "she never did a better deed. Heaven reward her forit. "

Zenas thought of the benediction pronounced on the cup of coldwater given for the Master, and rejoiced in the privilege ofministering to these wounded and, it might be, dying men. 

"You'll have to lose your arm, my good fellow, " said the doctor, kindly, but in a business-like way, "the bone is badly shattered. ""I was afear'd o' that ever since I got hit. I was just a-takin'aim when I missed my fire, --I didn't know why, didn't feelnuthin', but I couldn't hold the gun. Old Jonas Evans, the Methodylocal preacher, was aside me, a-prayin' like a saint and a-fightin' like a lion. 'The Lord ha' mercy on his soul, ' I hearedhim say as he knocked a feller over. Well, he helped me out o' thefight as tender as a woman, and then went at it again as fierce asever. "

"Don't talk so much, my good follow, " said the doctor, who hadbeen preparing ligatures to tie the arteries and arranging hissaw, knife, and tourniquet within reach. The operation was soonover, Jim never flinching a bit. Indeed, during action, and forsome time after, the sensibilities seem, by the concurrentexcitement, mercifully deadened to pain. 

"I'd have spared t'other one too, an' right willin', " said thefaithful fellow, "if it would have saved Brock. "

Zenas, at the doctor's direction, held the poor fellow's shatteredarm till the amputation was complete. As the dissevered limb grewcold in his hands, he seemed more distressed than its late owner. Instead of laying it with some others near the surgeon's table, hewrapped it tenderly, as though it still could feel, in a cloth, and going out where a fatigue party were burying on the field ofbattle--clad in their military dress, in waiting for the lasttrump and the final parade at the great review--the victims of thefight, he laid the dead arm reverently in the ground, and coveredit with its kindred clay. He thought of his sister's remark, aboutpreparing the shroud before death, but here was he burying part ofthe body of a man who was yet alive. 

Neville, meanwhile, had been speaking words of spiritual comfortand counsel to the wounded and the dying, and receiving their lastfaint-whispered messages to loved ones far away. He also read, over the ghastly trench in which the dead were being buried--onewide, long, common grave, in which lay side by side friend andfoe, those recently arrayed in battle with each other, slain bymutual wounds, and now at rest and for ever--the solemn funeralservice. As he pronounced the words, "Dust to dust, ashes toashes, " the earth was thrown on the uncoffined dead, and then overthe soldiers' grave their comrades fired their farewell volley andagain mounted guard against the foe. 

Zenas received a lesson in surgery that day of which he found thebenefit more than once before the war was over. He was soon ableto apply one of Katharine's lint bandages or dress a wound with adeftness that elicited the commendation not only of the subject ofhis ministration, but even of the knight of the scalpel himself. Neville, too, evinced no little skill in the surgeon's beneficentart. 

"Young Drayton, " said the surgeon, "I think we shall have totrespass on the hospitality of your house on behalf of CaptainVilliers, here. He has received a severe gunshot wound, from whichhe will be some time in convalescing. I know no place where hewill be so comfortable, and I know the squire will make himwelcome. "

"Of course he will, " said Zenas, with alacrity. "He would makeeven those wounded Yanks welcome, much more an officer of theKing. "

While Neville remained to minister to the dying, Zenas made acomfortable bed of hay in his now empty waggon, on which thewounded captain was placed, with a wheat sheaf for a pillow, anddrove carefully to The Holms. He was preceded by a waggonconveying a number of wounded soldiers to the military hospital atNiagara. As this load of injured and anguished humanity was drivendown and up the steep sides of the ravine which crosses the roadto the north of the village, at every jolt over the rough stones agroan of agony was wrung from the poor fellows, that made theheart of Zenas ache with sympathy and when the team stopped at thetop of the hill, the blood ran from the waggon and stained theground. War did not seem to the boy such a glorious thing as whenhe saw the gallant redcoats in the morning marching to thestirring strains of the "British Grenadiers. " The boy seemed tohave become a man in a few hours. Not less full of enthusiasm andhigh courage, but more serious and grave, and never again was heheard vapouring about the "pomp and circumstance of glorious war. "[Footnote: Accounts of several of the above-mentioned incidentswere gleaned from the conversation of an intelligent lady, recently deceased, who, as a young girl, was an eye-witness of theleading events of the war. ]

CHAPTER V. 

A VICTORY AND ITS COST. 

While the events just described had been taking place, animportant movement was made for the recovery of Queenston Heights. Major-General Sheaffe, with a force of about nine hundred redcoatsand militia, made a circuitous march through the village of St. David's, and thus gained the crest of the heights on which theenemy were posted. Here he was re-enforced by the arrival of acompany of the 41st grenadiers and a body of militiamen fromChippewa. 

With a volley and a gallant British cheer, they attacked, abouttwo o'clock in the afternoon, the American force, which had alsobeen re-enforced to about the same number as the British. Couragethe enemy had, but they lacked the confidence and steadinessimparted by the presence of the veteran British troops. Nevertheless, for a time they stoutly stood their ground; but, soon perceiving the hopelessness of resistance, they everywheregave way, and retreated precipitately down the hill to their placeof landing. The Indians, like sleuth hounds that had broken leash, unhappily could not be restrained, and, shrieking their blood-curdling war-whoops, pursued with tomahawk and reeking blade thedemoralized fugitives. Many stragglers were cut off from the mainbody and attempted to escape through the woods. These wereintercepted and driven back by the exasperated Indians, burning toavenge the death of Brock, for whom they felt an affection andveneration for which the savage breast would scarce have beendeemed capable. 

Terrified at the appearance of the enraged warriors, many of theAmericans flung themselves wildly over the cliff and endeavouredto scramble down its rugged and precipitous slope. Some wereimpaled upon the jagged pines, others reached the bottom bruisedand bleeding, and others, attempting to swim the rapid stream, were drowned in its whirling eddies. One who reached the oppositeshore in a boat made a gesture of defiance and contempt toward hisfoes across the river, when he fell, transpierced with the bulletof an Indian sharpshooter. 

Two brothers of the Canadian militia fought side by side, when, inthe moment of victory, a shot pierced the lungs of the younger, aboy of seventeen, with a fair, innocent face. His brother bore himfrom the field in his arms, and, while the life-tide ebbed fromhis wound, the dying boy faltered--

"Kiss me, Jim. Tell mother--I was not--afraid to die, " and as theblood gushed from his mouth, the brave young spirit departed. 

All that day, and on many a foughten field thereafter, the livingbrother heard those dying words, and in his ear there rang a wildrefrain, which nerved his arm and steeled his heart to fight forthe country hallowed by his brother's blood. 

 "O, how the drum beats so loud! 'Close beside me in the fight, My dying brother says, 'Good night!' And the cannon's awful breath Screams the loud halloo of Death! And the drum, And the drum Beats so loud!"

Such were some of the dreadful horrors with which a warfarebetween two kindred peoples was waged; and such were some of thecostly sacrifices with which the liberties of Canada were won. Asfrom the vantage ground of these happier times we look back uponthe stern experiences of those iron days, they inspire a blendedfeeling of pity and regret, not unmingled with a vague remorse, shot through and through our patriotic pride and exultation, likedark threads in a bright woof. Through the long centuries ofcarnage and strife through which the race has struggled up tofreedom, how faint has seemed the echo of the angel's song, "Peaceon earth, good will to men. "

 "I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, The cries of agony, the endless groan. Which, through the ages that have gone before us, In long reverberations reach our own. 

 "Is it, O man with such discordant noises, With such accursed instruments as these, Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, And jarrest the celestial harmonies. 

 * * * * *

 "Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations I hear once more the voice of Christ say, 'Peace!'

 "Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise. "

The result of the battle of Queenston Heights was theunconditional surrender of Brigadier Wadsworth and nine hundredand fifty officers and privates as prisoners of war. But thisvictory, brilliant as it was, was dearly bought with the death ofthe loved and honored Brock, the brave young Macdonnell, and thoseof humbler rank, whose fall brought sorrow to many a Canadianhome. 

 "Joy's bursting shout in whelming grief was drowned, And victory's self unwilling audience found; On every brow the cloud of sadness hung, -- "The sounds of triumph died on every tongue. "

Three days later all that was mortal of General Brock and hisgallant aide-de-camp was committed to the earth with mournfulpageantry. With arms reversed and muffled drums and the wailingstrains of the "Dead March, " the sad procession passed, while thehalf-mast flags and minute guns of both the British and Americanforts attested the honour and esteem in which the dead soldierswere held by friends and foes alike. Amid the tears of war-bronzedsoldiers and even of stoical Indians they were laid in one commongrave in a bastion of Fort George. A grateful country has sinceerected on the scene of the victory--one of the grandest sites onearth--a noble monument to the memory of Brock, and beneath it, side by side, sleeps the dust of the heroic chief and his faithfulaide-de-camp--united in their death and not severed in theirburial. 

As Neville and the squire and Zenas turned away from the solemnpageant of which they had been silent spectators, the latterremarked, "Captain Villiers said he'd almost give his other arm to be ableto be present to-day and lay a wreath on the coffin of his gallantchief. As he couldn't come, he wrote these verses, which he wishedme to post to the York _Gazette_. He said I might read themto you, Mr. Trueman, before I sent them. " And the boy, not veryfluently, but with a good deal of feeling, read the followinglines:--

 "Low bending o'er the ragged bier, The soldier drops the mournful tear, For life departed, valour driven, Fresh from the field of death, to Heaven. 

 "But Time shall fondly trace the name Of BROCK upon the scrolls of Fame, And those bright laurels, which should wave Upon the brow of one so brave, Shall flourish vernal o'er his grave. "

Neville commended the graceful tribute with generous warmth, whenZenas remarked, "The Captain will be glad to hear you like them. Leastways, Isuppose so. He read them himself to Kate this morning, and seemedpleased because they made her cry. "

"He is a brave gentleman, " says the squire. "I fear it will belong before he mounts his horse, again. "

"O he'll soon be round again, " chimed in Zenas. "He said Katewould be his Elaine, to nurse the wounded Lancelot back to life. Who was Lancelot?"

"Some of those moon-struck poetry fellows, I'll be bound, " saidthe squire contemptuously. 

"Nay, a very gallant knight, " said Neville, who had when a boy, read with delight Sir Thomas Mallory's book of King Arthur; but hedid not seem to relish the comparison and led the conversationinto a serious vein, as befitting the solemn occasion. 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE CAPTURE OF YORK. 

After the battle of Queenston Heights an armistice of a monthfollowed, during which each party was gathering up its strengthfor the renewal of the unnatural conflict. General Smyth, who hadsucceeded Van Rensselaer, assembled a force five thousand strong, for the conquest of Canada. At the expiration of the armistice, heissued a Napoleonic proclamation to his "companions in arms. ""Come on, my heroes" it concludes; "when you attack the enemy'sbatteries let your rallying word be: 'The cannon lost at Detroit, or death. '"

At length, before day-break on the morning of November 28th--acold, bleak day--a force of some five hundred men, in eighteenscows, attempted the capture of Grand Island, in the NiagaraRiver. A considerable British force had rallied from Fort Erie andChippewa. In silence they awaited the approach of the Americanflotilla. As it came within range, a ringing cheer burst forth, and a deadly volley of musketry was poured into the advancingboats. A six-pounder, well served by Captain Kerby, shattered twoof the boats; and the Americans, thrown into confusion, sought theshelter of their own shore. 

General Smyth now sent a summons for the surrender of Fort Erie. Colonel Bishopp, its commandant, sarcastically invited him to"come and take it. " After several feints the attempt wasabandoned, and the army went into winter quarters. Smyth, an emptygasconader, was regarded, even by his own troops, with contempt, and had to fly from the camp to escape their indignation. He waseven hooted and fired at in the streets of Buffalo, and was, without trial, dismissed from the army, --a sad collapse of hisvaunting ambition. 

In the meanwhile, General Dearborn, with an army of ten thousandmen, advanced by way of Lake Champlain to the frontier of LowerCanada. The Canadians rallied _en masse_ to repel theinvasion, barricaded the roads with felled trees, and guardedevery pass. On the 20th of November, before day, an attack wasmade by fourteen hundred of the enemy on the British out-post atLacolle, near Rouse's Point; but the guard, keeping up a sharpfire, withdrew, and the Americans, in the darkness and confusion, fired into each other's ranks, and fell back in disastrous andheadlong retreat. The discomfited general, despairing of asuccessful attack on Montreal, so great was the vigilance andvalour of the Canadians, retired with his "Grand Army of theNorth" into safe winter quarters, behind the entrenchments ofPlattsburg. A few ineffectual border raids and skirmishes, atdifferent points of the extended frontier, were characteristicepisodes of the war during the winter, and, indeed, throughout theentire duration of hostilities. 

In their naval engagements the Americans were more successful. OnLake Ontario, Commodore Chauncey equipped a strong fleet, whichdrove the Canadian shipping for protection under the guns ofNiagara, York, and Kingston. He generously restored the privateplate of Sir Isaac Brock, captured in one of his prizes. 

In these naval conflicts the greatest gallantry was exhibited inthe dreadful work of mutual slaughter. The vessels reeked withblood like a shambles, and, if not blown up or sunk, becamefloating hospitals of deadly wounds and agonizing pain. 

In the United States Congress this unnatural strife of kindredraces was vigorously denounced by some of the truest Americanpatriots. Mr. Quincy, of Massachusetts, characterized it as the"most disgraceful in history since the invasion of thebuccaneers. " But the Democratic majority persisted in their sternpolicy of implacable war. 

The patriotism and valour of the Canadians were, however, fullydemonstrated. With the aid of a few regulars, the loyal militiahad repulsed large armies of invaders, and not only maintained theinviolable integrity of their soil, but had also conquered aconsiderable portion of the enemy's territory. [Footnote:Condensed from Withrow's History of Canada, 8vo. Edition, chap. Xxii. ]

The winter dragged its weary length along. Its icy hand was laidupon the warring passions of man, and, for a time, they seemedstilled. Its white banners of snow proclaimed a truce--the traceof God--through all the land. Apprehensions of a sterner conflictduring the coming year filled every mind, but caused no dismay, --only a firm resolve to do and dare--to conquer or to die--fortheir firesides and their homes. 

Neville Trueman toiled through the wintry woods, the snowdrifts, and the storms to break the bread of life to the scatteredcongregations of his far-extended circuits. His own flock, whoknew the man, knew how his loyalty had been tested, and whatsacrifices he had made for his adopted country. By a few religiousand political bigots, however, his American origin was a cause ofunjust suspicion and aspersion, which stung to the quick hissensitive nature. He was especially made to feel the unreasoningand bitter antipathy of the Indians to the nation of American"long-knives, " with whom they classed him, notwithstanding hispeaceful calling and his approved loyalty. 

One day Trueman entered the bark wigwam of an Indian chief, forthe double purpose of obtaining shelter from a storm and of tryingto teach the truths of the Christian religion to those devotees ofpagan superstition. He found several young braves assembled at asort of council, gravely smoking their long pipes in dignifiedsilence. His entrance was the occasion of not a few dark scowlsand sinister glances. 

"Ugh! Yankee black-robe, " sneered one of the braves. "Friend ofthe 'long-knives. ' The day of fight at Big Rapids him strike up myarm as me going to tomahawk Yankee prisoner. Had great mind tokill him, too. "

"Ugh!" echoed another; "me see him helping wounded 'long-knife, 'just like him brother. "

"No! Him good King George's man, " exclaimed the old chief, who hadseen his impartial ministration to the wounded of both armies. "Him love Injun. Teach him pray to true Great Spirit. "

But not always did he find such a true friend among the red men;and not unfrequently was the scalping-knife half unsheathed, orthe tomahawk grasped, and dark brows scowled in anger, as hesought the wandering children of the forest for their soul'ssalvation. But their half-unconscious fear of the imagined powerof the pale-face medicine-man, their involuntary admiration of hisundaunted courage, and, let us add, the protecting providence ofGod, prevented a hair of his head from being harmed. 

The spring came at length with strange suddenness, as it oftencomes in our northern land, causing a magical change in the faceof nature. A green flush overspread the landscape. The skiesbecame soft and tender, with glorious sunsets. The delicate-veinedwhite triliums and May-apples took the place of the snowdrifts inthe woods; and the air was fragrant and the orchards were abloomwith the soft pink and white apple-blossoms. 

The little town of Niagara was like a camp. The long, low barrackson the broad campus were crowded with troops, and the snowy gleamsof tents dotted the greensward. The wide grass-grown streets weregay with the constant marching and counter-marching of red-coats, and the air was vocal with the shrill bugle-call or the frequentroll of the drums. Drill, parade, and inspection, artillery andmusket practice, filled the hours of the day. Fort George had beenstrengthened, victualled, and armed. That solitary fort was feltto be the key that, apparently, held possession of the south-western peninsula of Canada. 

One evening, early in May, a motley group were assembled in thelarge mess-room of the log barracks of the fort. It was a long lowroom built of solid logs. The thick walls were loop-holed formusketry, and on wooden pegs, driven into the logs, the old BrownBess muskets of the soldiers were stacked. Rude bunks were rangedalong one side, like berths in a ship, for the men to sleep in. The great square, naked timbers of the low ceiling were embrownedwith smoke, as was also the mantel of the huge open fire-place atthe end of the room. The rudely-carved names and initials on thewall betrayed the labours of an idle hour. Around the amplehearth, during the long winter nights, the war-scarred veteransbeguiled the tedium of a soldier's life with stories of battle, siege, and sortie, under Moore and Wellington, in the Peninsularwars; and one or two grizzled old war-dogs had tales to tell of

 "Hair-breadth 'scapes in the imminent deadly breach"--

of exploits done in their youth during Arnold's siege of Quebec, or at Brandywine and Germantown. 

Now the faint light of the tallow candles, in tin sconces, gleamson the scarlet uniforms and green facings of the 49th regiment, onthe tartan plaid of the Highland clansman, on the frieze coat andpolished musket of the Canadian militiaman, and on the red-skinand hideous war-paint of the Indian scout, quartered for the nightin the barracks. In one corner is heard the crooning of theScottish pipes, where old Allan Macpherson is playing softly thesad, sweet airs of "Annie Laurie, " "Auld Lang Syne, " and "BonnieDoon;" while something like a tear glistens in his eye as hethinks of the sweet "banks and braes" of the tender song. Presently he is interrupted by a sturdy 49th man, who trolls amerry marching song, the refrain of which is caught up by hiscomrades:

 "Some talk of Alexander and some of Hercules, Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these; But of all the world's great heroes There are none that can compare, With a tow-row-row-row-row-row-row, To the British Grenadiers!"

In another corner old Jonas Evans, now a sergeant of militia, wasquietly reading his well-thumbed Bible, while others around himwere shuffling a greasy pack of cards, and filling the air withreeking tobacco-smoke and strange soldiers' oaths. When atemporary lull, in the somewhat tumultuous variety of noisesoccurred, he lifted his stentorian voice in a stirring Methodisthymn:

 "Soldiers of Christ, arise, And put your armour on, Strong in the strength which God supplies Through His eternal Son. Stand then against your foes, In close and firm array: Legions of wily fiends oppose Throughout the evil day. "

The old man sang with a martial vigour as though he were chargingthe "legions of fiends" at the point of the bayonet. In a shrewd, plain, common-sense manner, he then earnestly exhorted hiscomrades-in-arms to be on their guard against the opposing fiendswho especially assailed a soldier's life. "Above all, " he said, "beware of the drink-fiend--the worst enemy King George has got. He kills more of the King's troops than all his other foestogether. " Then, with a yearning tenderness in his voice, heexhorted them to "ground the weapons of their rebellion and enlistin the service of King Jesus, the great Captain of theirsalvation, who would lead them to victory over the world, theflesh, and the devil, and at last make them kings and priestsforever in His everlasting kingdom in the skies. "

Those rude, reckless, and, some of them, violent and wicked men, fascinated by the intense earnestness of the Methodist local-preacher, listened with quiet attention. Even the Indian scoutseemed to have some appreciation of his meaning, and mutteredassent between the whiffs of tobacco-smoke from his carved-stone, feather-decked pipe. The moral elevation which Christian-livingand Bible-reading will always give, commanded their respect, andthe dauntless daring of the old man--for they knew that he was avery lion in the fight, and as cool under fire as at the mess-table--challenged the admiration of their soldier hearts. 

Once a drinking, swearing bigot constituted himself a champion ofthe Church established by law, and complained to the commandingmajor that "the Methody preacher took the work out of the hands oftheir own chaplain, "--an easy-going parson, who much preferreddining with the officers' mess to visiting the soldiers' barracks. 

"If he preaches as well as he fights, he can beat the chaplain, "said the major. "Let him fire away all he likes, the parson won'tcomplain; and some of you fellows would be none the worse forconverting, as he calls it. If you were to take a leaf out of hisbook yourself, Tony, and not be locked up in the guard-house sooften, it would be better for you!"

With the tables thus deftly turned upon him, poor Antony Double-gill, as he was nick-named, because he so often contrived to gettwice the regulation allowance of "grog, " retired discomfittedfrom the field. 

While the group in the mess-room were preparing to turn into theirsleeping-bunks, the sharp challenge of the sentry, pacing theramparts without, was heard. The report of his musket and, in afew moments, the shrill notes of the bugle sounding the "turnout, " created an alarm. The men snatched their guns and side-arms, and were soon drawn up in company on the quadrangle of the fort. The clang of the chains of the sally-port rattled, the draw-bridgefell, the heavy iron-studded gates swung back, and three prisonerswere brought in who were expostulating warmly with the guard, anddemanding to be led to the officer for the night. When they werebrought to the light which poured from the open door of the guard-room, it was discovered with surprise that two of the prisonerswore the familiar red and green of the 49th regiment, and that thethird was in officer's uniform. But their attire was so torn, burnt, and blackened with powder, and draggled and soaked withwater, that the guard got a good deal of chaffing from theircomrades for their capture. 

"This is treating us worse than the enemy, " said one of thesoldiers, "and that was bad enough. "

The adjutant now appeared upon the scene to inquire into the causeof the disturbance. 

"I have the honour to bear despatches from General Sheaffe, " saidthe young officer; when the adjutant promptly requested him toproceed to his quarters, and sent the others to the mess-room, with orders for their generous refreshment. 

There their comrades gathered round them, eagerly inquiring thenature of the disaster, which, from the words that they had heard, they inferred had befallen the left wing of the regiment, quartered at the town of York. In a few brief words they learnedwith dismay that the capital of the country was captured by theenemy, that the public buildings and the shipping were burned, that the fort was blown up, and that a heavy loss had befallenboth sides. 

While the men dried their water-soaked clothes before a firekindled on the hearth, and ate as though they had been starved, they were subject to a cross-fire of eager questions from everyside, which they answered as best they could, while busy plyingknife and fork, and "re-victualling the garrison, " the corporalsaid, "as though they were expecting a forty days' siege. "

"And siege you may have, soon enough, " said Sergeant Shenston, theelder of the two men. "Chauncey and Dearborn will drop down on_you_ before the week's out. "

Disentangling the narrative of the men from the maze of questionsand answers in which it was given, its main thread was as follows:

Early on the morning of the 27th of April, Chauncey, the Americancommodore, with fourteen vessels and seventeen hundred men, underthe command of Generals Dearborn and Pike, lay off the shore alittle to the west of the town of York, near the site of the oldFrench fort, now included in the new Exhibition Grounds. The townwas garrisoned by only six hundred men, including militia anddockyard men, under Gen. Sheaffe. Under cover of a heavy fire, which swept the beach, the Americans landed, drove in the Britishoutposts, which stoutly contested every foot of ground, and made adash for the dilapidated fort, which the fleet meanwhile heavilybombarded. Continual re-enforcements enabled them to fight theirway through the scrub oak woods to within two hundred yards of theearthen ramparts, when the defensive fire ceased. General Pikehalted his troops, thinking the fort about to surrender. Suddenly, with a shock like an earthquake, the magazine blew up, and hurledinto the air two hundred of the attacking column, together withPike, its commander. [Footnote: The magazine contained fivehundred barrels of powder and an immense quantity of chargedshells. ] Several soldiers of the retiring British garrison werealso killed. This act, which was defended as justifiable in orderto prevent the powder from falling into the hands of the enemy, and as in accordance with the recognized code of war, was severelydenounced by the Americans, and imparted a tone of greaterbitterness to the subsequent contest. 

The town being no longer tenable, General Sheaffe, afterdestroying the naval stores and a vessel on the stocks, retreatedwith the regulars towards Kingston. Colonel Chewett and threehundred militiamen were taken prisoners, the public buildingsburned, and the military and naval stores, which escapeddestruction, were carried off. The American loss was over threehundred, and that of the British nearly half as great. [Footnote:See Withrow's History of Canada, 8vo. Edition, chap. Xxiii. ]

"How did you get your clothes so burnt?" asked the corporal, whenthe narrative was concluded, pointing to the scorched and powder-blackened uniform of the narrator. 

"It is a wonder I escaped at all, " said Sergeant Shenstone. "I wasnearly caught by the explosion. I was helping a wounded comrade toescape, when, looking over the ramparts, I beheld the enemy soclose that I could see their teeth as they bit the cartridges, andGeneral Pike, on the right wing, cheering them on--so gallant andbold. I was a-feared I would be nabbed as a prisoner, and sent toeat Uncle Sam's hard-tack in the hulks at Sackett's Harbour, when, all of a sudden, the ground trembled like the earthquakes I havefelt in the West Indies; then a volcano of fire burst up to thesky, and, in a minute, the air seemed raining fire and brimstone, as it did at Sodom and Gomorrah. It seemed like the judgment-day. I was thrown flat on the ground, and when I tried to get up I wasall bruised and burnt with the falling clods and splinters, and mycomrade was dead at my side. I crawled away as soon as I could--there was no thought then of making prisoners. "

"But what gar'd the magazine blaw up? Was it an accident?" askedold Allan McPherson, the Highland piper, who had listened eagerlyto the tragic story. 

"No accident was it. Sergeant Marshall, of the artillery, adesperate fellow, who swore the enemy should lose more than theywould gain by taking the fort, laid and fired the train. TheGeneral had already given the order to retreat, and knew nothingof it. "

"God forgie him!" exclaimed the old Scotchman. "Yon's no war ava--it's rank murder. I can thole a fair and square stan up fecht, butyon's a coward trick. "

"Ye'd say so, " said Private McIntyre, Shenstone's comrade, "gin yesaw the hale place reeking like a shawmbles, an' the puir'wretches lying stark and scaring like slaughtered sheep. I doubtna it was a gran' blunder as weel as a gran' crime. Forbye killingsome o' oor ain folk it will breed bad bluid through the hale war. I doubt na it will mak it waur for ye, for Fort George's turn muncome next. "

"I hear Dearborn swore to avenge the death of General Pike. Allthe vessels' flags were half-mast, and the minute-guns boomedwhile they rowed his dead body, wrapped in the stars and stripes, to the flag-ship; and Chauncey carried off all the publicproperty, even to the mace and Speaker's wig from the ParliamentHouse, and the fire-engine of the town. " [Footnote: These wereconveyed to Sackett's Harbour and deposited in the dockyardstorehouse, where they were exhibited as trophies of theconquest. ]

"How did you get away with the despatches?" asked Jonas Evans. "Ishould think Chauncey would try to take us by surprise, but theLord would not let him. "

"To avoid capture, " said Shenstone, "Sheaffe placed the Donbetween him and the enemy as soon as possible, and broke down thebridge behind him. There were only four hundred of us altogether. Captain Villiers, who had recovered from his wound, and EnsignNorton set out on horseback, with despatches for Fort George; and, in case they should be captured, Lieutenant Foster undertook toconvey them by water, and we volunteered to accompany him. We gota fisherman's boat at Frenchman's Bay. It was a long, tough pullacross the lake, I tell you. At night the wind rose, and we weredrenched with spray and nearly perished with cold. After two dayshard rowing against head wind, we made land, but were afraid toenter the river till nightfall. We slipped past Fort Niagarawithout detection, but had like to be murdered by your sentryhere. We might well ask to be saved from our friends. "

An unwonted stir soon pervaded the fort and camp. Again theponderous gates yawned and the draw-bridge fell, and orderliesgalloped out into the night to convey the intelligence to thefrontier posts, and to order the concentration of every availableman and gun at Fort George. The sentries were doubled on theramparts and along the river front. The entire garrison was on the_qui vive_ against a surprise. The next day Captain Villiers, with his companion, reached the fort, fagged out with theirhundred miles' ride in two days--they had been compelled to make awide _detour_ to avoid capture. The whole garrison was in aferment of excitement and hard work. Stores, guns, ammunition, accoutrements were overhauled and inspected. The army bakery wasbusy day and night. Forage and other supplies of every sort werebrought in. Extra rations were made ready for issue, and everypossible precaution taken against an anticipated attack, which, itwas felt, could not long be delayed. 

CHAPTER VII. 

THE FALL OF FORT GEORGE. 

But short respite was granted before the fall of the blow which, for a time, annihilated British authority on the frontier. On thethird day after the reception of the evil tidings of the captureof York, Chauncey's fleet was seen in the offing; but for six daysadverse winds prevented it from landing the American troopsbeneath the protection of the guns of Fort Niagara. Day after daythey stood off and on, but were unable to make the land. "Thestars in their courses fought against Sisera, " said Jonas Evans, as he watched the baffled fleet, "and the Lord, with the breath ofHis mouth, fighteth for us. "

At length, having landed General Dearborn and his troops, Chaunceyconveyed his wounded to Sackett's Harbour, the great Americannaval depot on Lake Ontario, and hastened back with a strong bodyof re-enforcements. The gallant Colonel Vincent, commandant atFort George, bated not a jot of heart or hope, --although he wasable to muster only some 1, 400 troops. Yet these, with spade andmattock, toiled day after day to strengthen its ramparts andravelins, and to throw up new earthworks and batteries. One fatalwant, however, was felt. The stock of ammunition was low, and asChauncey, with his fleet, had the mastery of the lake, it couldnot be replenished from the ample supply at Fort Henry, atKingston. 

At length the fateful day arrived. On the twenty-sixth of May, atearly dawn, Chauncey's ships, fifteen in number, were drawn up increscent form off the devoted town, their snowy sails gleaming inthe morning sun. On the opposite sides of the river the grim fortsfrowned defiance at each other, and guarded, like stern warders, the channel between them. The morning _reveille_ seemed theshrill challenge to mortal combat. Sullen and silent, likecouchant lions, through the black embrasures the grim cannonwatched the opposite shores; and at length, from the feverish lipsof the guns of the American fort, as if they could no longer holdtheir breath, leap forth, in breath of flame and thunder roar, thefell death-bolts of war. The fierce shells scream through the airand explode within the quadrangle of Fort George, scatteringdestruction and havoc, or, perchance, bury themselves harmlesslyin the earthen ramparts. The ships take up their part in thedreadful chorus. From their black sides flash forth the tongues offlame and wreaths of smoke, and soon they get the range withdeadly precision. The British guns promptly reply. The gunnersstand to their pieces, though an iron hail is crashing all aroundthem. Now one and another is struck down by a splinter or fragmentof shell, and, while another steps into his place, is borne off tothe bomb-proof casemates, where the surgeon plies his ghastly butbeneficent calling. 

For hours the deadly cannonade continues, but amid it all, thedead General, buried in a disused bastion, sleeps calmly on:

"He has fought his last fight, he has waged his last battle, Nosound shall awake him to glory again. "

Jonas Evans, who had been an old artilleryman, takes the place ofa wounded gunner, lifts the big sixty-eight pound balls, rams themhome, and handles the linstock as coolly as if on parade. "Blessthe Lord!" he said to a comrade while the piece was being pointed, "I am ready to live or die; it's no odds to me. For me to live isChrist, to die is gain. Sudden death would be sudden glory. Hallelujah! I believe I am doing my duty to my country, to God andman, and my soul is as happy as it can be this side heaven. "

Strange words for such a scene of blood! Strange work for aChristian man to do! It seems the work of demons rather than ofmen, and yet godly men have, with an approving conscience, wieldedthe weapons of carnal warfare. But in this much at least all willagree: An unjust war is the greatest of all crimes, and even ajust war is the greatest of all calamities. And all will join inthe prayer, Give peace in our time, O Lord, and hasten the daywhen the nations shall learn war no more!

Neville Trueman, who had a pass from Colonel Vincent to visit theMethodist troops in the fort, felt himself summoned thither, as toa post of duty, at the first sounds of the cannonade. He was soonbusily engaged, skilfully helping the surgeon and ministeringalike to the bodies and the souls of the wounded soldiers. He alsofound time to visit the ramparts and speak words of cheer andencouragement to the members of his spiritual flock. Although shotand shell screamed through the air, and fragments and splinterswere flying in dangerous proximity, he felt himself sustained bythe grace of God. Amid these dreadful scenes he knew no fear, andhis calm serenity inspired confidence courage and in others. 

The bombardment lasted a large part of the day. Fort George wasseverely damaged. Several of its guns were dismounted, and thewhole place rendered almost untenable. 

The night was one of much anxiety. The force of the enemy wasoverwhelming. The fate of the fortress seemed certain; butVincent, with gallant British pluck, resolved to hold it to thelast. The wearied troops snatched what refreshment and repose theycould amid the confusion and discomfort and danger by which theywere surrounded. At intervals during the night the American fortkept up a teasing fire, more for the purpose of causing annoyanceand preventing rest than with the object of doing any seriousdamage. As a mere pyrotechnic spectacle it was certainly a grandsight to watch the graceful curves of the live shells through theair--a parabola of vivid brightness against the black sky, as theburning fuse, fanned by its rapid motion, glowed like a shooting-star. The loud detonation, and explosion of fiery fragments thatfollowed, however, was rather discomposing to the nerves, andunfavourable for restful slumber to the weary warriors. 

Another cruel refinement of war was still more disconcerting. Inorder, if possible, to ignite the barracks, the gunners of FortNiagara kept firing at intervals red-hot cannon balls. A vigilantlook-out for these had to be kept, and a fire brigade wasspecially organized to drown out any incipient conflagration thatmight occur. 

A similar compliment was paid by the artillerists of Fort George. No little skill was required in handling these heavy red-hotprojectiles. In order to prevent a premature explosion of thecharge, a wet wad was interposed between the powder and the red-hot ball. In the walls of Fort Mississauga, at Niagara, may stillbe seen the fire-places for heating the shot for the purpose heredescribed. 

But, notwithstanding the tumult, the roar of the cannon near athand, the explosion of shells, and the thud of the balls strikingthe casemates, or burying themselves in the earthen ramparts, theweary garrison snatched what repose was possible; for the morrow, it was felt, would tax their energies to the utmost. 

The morning of May 27th dawned as bright and beautiful as inEden's sinless garden--as fair as though such a deadly evil as warwere unknown in the world. The American shipping stood in closerto the shore. The bombardment was renewed with intenser fury. Itwas evident that an attempt was about to be made to laud a hostileforce on Canadian ground. Every available man, except thoserequired to work the guns of Fort George, and a guard over thestores, as hurried down to the beach to prevent, if possible, thelanding. Boat after boat, filled with armed men, their bayonetsgleaming in the morning sunshine, left the ships, and, under coverof a tremendous fire from the American fort and fleet, gained theshore. First Colonel Scott, with eight hundred riflemen, effecteda landing. They were promptly met by a body of British regularsand militia, and compelled to take refuge under cover of the steepbank which lined the beach to the north of the town. From thisposition they kept up a galling fire on the British troops in theopen field. The broadsides of the fleet also swept the plain, andwrought great havoc among the brave militia defending their nativesoil. To escape the deadly sweep of the cannon they were obligedto prostrate themselves in the slight depressions in the plain. Notwithstanding the inequality of numbers, the main body of theenemy were three times repulsed before they could gain a footholdon the beach. 

At length, after three hours desperate struggle, a hostile forceof six thousand men stood upon the plain. The conflict then wasbrief but strenuous. Many were the incidents of personal heroismthat relieved, as by a gleam of light, the darkness of thetragedy. Jonas Evans was in the foremost files, and, as they layupon the ground, his comrade on either side was killed by roundshot from the ships, but, as if he bore a charmed life, he escapedunhurt. Loker and McKay, while bearing off a wounded militia-man, were captured, as were many others. At length the bugles sounded aretreat. Slowly and reluctantly the British troops fell backthrough the town. A strong rear-guard halted in the streets, seeking the shelter of the houses, and stubbornly holding the foeat bay while Vincent made his preparations for abandoning FortGeorge. All that valour and fidelity could do to hold thatimportant post had been done. But how were a few hundred weary anddefeated men to withstand a victorious army of six-fold greaterstrength? [Footnote: The details of the account above given werenarrated to the author by the venerable Father Brady, for manyyears class-leader of the Methodist Church at Niagara, who was anactor in the events described. ]

The guns of the fort were spiked and overthrown, and baggage, ammunition, and moveable stores were hastily loaded on teamsvolunteered for the service, to accompany the retreat of the army. With a bitter pang, Vincent ordered the destruction of the fortwhich he had so gallantly defended. When the last man had retired, with his own hand he fired the train which caused the explosion ofthe powder magazine. When the victorious army marched in, theyfound only the breached and blackened walls, the yawning gates, and dismantled ramparts of the fort. From the shattered flagstaff, where it still waved defiantly, though rent and seared by shot andshell, the brave red-cross flag was hauled down and replaced bythe gaily fluttering stars and stripes. 

Many a time has the present writer wandered over the crumbling andgrass-grown ramparts of the ruined fort, where the peaceful sheepcrop the herbage and the little children play. Some of the oldcasemates and thick-walled magazines still remain, and areoccupied by the families of a few old pensioners. In these low-vaulted chambers, with their deep and narrow embrasures, once thescene of the rude alarum of war, often has he held a quietreligious service with the lowly and unlettered inmates, who knewlittle of the thrilling history of their strange abode. 

Often at the pensive sunset hour, reclining in a crumblingbastion, has he tried to rehabilitate the past, and to summon fromtheir lonely and forgotten graves upon the neighbouringbattlefield, or in quiet church-yards, it may be, far beyond thesea, the groups of war-scarred veterans who once peopled the nowdesolate fort. 

Again is heard, in fancy, the quick challenge and reply, thebugle-call, the roll of drums, the sharp rattle of musketry, thedeep and deadly thunder of the cannonade. How false and fading isfelt to be the glory of arms, and how abiding victories of peace, more glorious than those of war!

 The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 

But hark! a loud report awakes the dreamer from his reverie. It isthe sunset gun from old Fort Niagara; and as stern reality becomesagain a presence, the gazer's glance rests on the peaceful beautyof the broad blue Lake Ontario, on which, at this quiet hour, somany eyes, long turned to dust, have rested in the years foreverflown. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FORTUNES OF WAR. 

On the evening of the evacuation of Fort George, several of theactors in the busy drama of the time were assembled in the greatkitchen of Squire Drayton's hospitable house. It was no time forceremony, so everybody met in the common living room. CaptainVilliers called to bid a hasty farewell to the kind family underwhose roof he had for several months abode as an invalid soldier, and especially to take leave of the fair young mistress, throughwhose care he had become convalescent. Neville Trueman hadresolved to follow the retreating army, both to avoid theappearance of any complicity or sympathy with the invaders; andthat, in the severe conflict which was impending, his spiritualservices might be available to the militia, of whom a considerablenumber were Methodists, and to such others as would accept them. Zenas had obtained his father's consent to volunteer for themilitia cavalry service in this time of his country's need, although it left the farm without a single man, except the squirehimself. 

"The maids and I will plant the corn and cut the wheat, too, " saidKate, with the pluck of a true Canadian girl. "We'll soon learn towield the sickle, though you seem to doubt it, Captain Villiers, "she went on, looking archly at the gallant captain, who smiledrather incredulously. 

"Nay, I am sure you will deserve to be honoured as the goddessCeres of your Canadian harvest-fields, by the future generationsof your country, " politely answered the captain. 

"I would rather serve my country in the present, than receivemythical honours in the future, " replied Kate. 

"We'll be back before harvest to drive the Yanks across the river, and get Sandy and Loker out of Fort Niagara, " said Zenas. "Tomwould gnaw his very fetters off to get free, if he wore any. ButSandy takes everything as it comes, as cool as you please. 'It wasall appointed, ' he says, and 'all for the best. '"

"They will not keep the prisoners there, " said the squire; "it istoo near the border. Chauncey will likely take them off toSackett's Harbour, and make them work in the dock-yards. "

"They won't make McKay do that, " said the captain; "it would beagainst his conscience, and he would die first. He is thestaunchest specimen of an old stoic philosopher I ever cameacross. Under the hottest fire to-day he was as cool as I ever sawhim on parade. As he stooped to raise a wounded comrade a roundshot struck and carried away his cartridge-box. Had he beenstanding up it would have cut him in two. He never blanched, butjust helped the poor fellow off the field, when he was capturedhimself. "

"It is something more than stoicism, " said Neville. "It is hisstaunch Scotch Calvinism. It is not my religious philosophy; but Ican I honour its effects in others. It made heroic men of theIronsides, the Puritans, and the Covenanters; but so will a trustin the loving fatherhood of God, without the doctrine of theeternal decrees. "

"We must not delay, " said the captain. "The enemy's scouts will belooking up stragglers, " and after a hasty meal he, with Nevilleand Zenas, rode away in the darkness, to join the rearguard ofVincent's retreating army. 

They had scarcely been gone five minutes when a loud knocking washeard at the front door of the house, and, immediately after, thetrampling of feet in the hall. A peremptory summons was followedby the bursting open of the kitchen door, when two flushed andheated American dragoons, one a comet and the other a private, stood on the threshold. 

"Beg pardon, miss, " said the officer, somewhat abashed at theattitude of indignant surprise assumed by Katharine. "But isCaptain Villiers here? We were told he was. "

"You see he is not, " said the young girl, with a queenly sweep ofher arm around the room; "but you may search the house, if youplease. "

"Oh, no occasion, as you say he is not here. I'll take theliberty, if you please, to help myself to a slight refreshment, "continued the spokesman, taking a seat at the table and beckoningto his companion to do the same. "You'll excuse the usage of war. We've had a hard day's work on light rations. "

"You might at least ask leave, " spoke up the squire, with a sortof

 "An Englishman's house is his castle, An Englishman's crown is his hat, "

Air, --"We would not refuse a bit and sup, even to an enemy. "

Glad of an excuse to detain the scouts as long as possible Kateplaced upon the table a cold meat-pie, of noble proportions, and aflagon of new milk. 

The troopers were valiant trencher-men, whatever else they were, and promptly assaulted the meat-pie fort, as from its size andshape it deserved to be called. 

"You know this Captain Villiers, I suppose?" said the dragoonsubaltern at length; "I had particular instructions to secure hiscapture. "

"Oh yes! I know him very well, " answered Kate. "He was here sickfor three months last winter. "

"And very good quarters and good fare he had, I'll be bound, " saidthe fellow, with an air of insolent familiarity. "And when was hehere last, pray?"

 "About half-an-hour ago, " said Kate, knowing that by this time hemust be beyond pursuit. 

"Zounds!" cried the trooper, springing to his feet, "why did younot tell me that before?"

"Because you did not ask me, sir, " said the maiden demurely, whileher black eyes flashed triumph at her father, who sat in his armchair stolidly smoking his pipe. 

With an angry oath, the fellows hurried out of the house asunceremoniously as they had entered, when Kate and her father hada merry laugh over their discomfiture. 

Next morning the troopers appeared again, in angry humour. "Thatwas a scurvy trick you played us last night, old gentleman, " saidthe elder. 

"No trick at all, " said the squire. "I hope you were pleased withyour entertainment? Did you catch your prisoner?" he asked, with asomewhat malicious twinkle of his eye towards Kate, who was in theroom. 

"No, we didn't; but we came upon the enemy's rear-guard, andnearly got captured ourselves. But you'll have to pay for yourlittle game, by liberal supplies for Dearborn's army. "

The staunch old loyalist, who would willingly impoverish himselfto aid the King's troops, stoutly refused to give "a single groator oat, " as he expressed it, to the King's enemies. It was"against his conscience, " he said. 

"We'll relieve you of your scruples, " said the officer. "I wantsome of those horses in your pasture to mount my troop ofdragoons, " and going oat of the house he ordered the half-score oftroopers without to dismount and capture the horses in the meadow. The men, after a particularly active chase, captured three out ofsix horses. The others defied every effort to catch them. Thetroopers threatened to shoot them, but the cornet forbade it, andordered the squire to send them to head-quarters during the day--acommand which he declined to obey. Such were some of the ways inwhich the loyal Canadians were pillaged of their property by theirruthless invaders. 

The squire indeed demanded a receipt from the officer for theproperty thus "requisitioned. "

"Oh yes! I'll give you a receipt, " said that individual, "and muchgood may it do you, " and that was all the good it did do him, forhe never received a cent of compensation. 

Colonel Vincent, in the meantime, had withdrawn the garrisons fromthe frontier forts on the Niagara river. He retreated with sixteenhundred men toward the head of the lake, and took up a strongposition on Burlington Heights, near Hamilton. In the now peacefulProtestant cemetery to the west of the city may still be traceamong the graves the mouldering ramparts and trenches of this oncewarlike camp. Dearborn despatched a force of three thousand men, with two hundred and fifty cavalry and nine field-pieces, underGenerals Chandler and Winder, to dislodge the Canadian force. Onthe 6th of June they encamped at Stony Creek, seven miles fromVincent's lines. The position of the latter was critical. Niagaraand York had both been captured. Before him was a victorious foe. His ammunition was reduced to ninety rounds. He was extricatedfrom his peril by a bold blow. Colonel John Harvey, havingreconnoitered the enemy's position, proposed a night attack. Vincent heartily co-operated. At midnight, with seven hundredBritish bayonets, they burst upon the American camp. A fiercefight ensued in which the enemy were utterly routed. The British, unwilling to expose their small number to a still superior force, retired before daybreak, with four guns and a hundred prisoners, including both of the American Generals. The victory, however, waspurchased with the loss of two hundred men killed or missing. Avenerable old lady, recently deceased, has described to the writerthe dreary procession of waggons laden with wounded men that filedpast her father's door on their return to the British head-quarters. The battle was fought early on Sunday morning, near thehouse of "Brother Gage, " a good Methodist, as his appellationindicates. [Footnote: Carroll's "Case and His Cotemporaries, " VolI. , p. 307. ] On that sacred day, so desecrated by the havoc ofwar, he gathered the neighbours together and buried the slain, friend and foe, in one wide, common grave. Among the traditions ofthe war is one which records that the boys of the Gage familygathered up a peck of bullets which had been intercepted by thestone fence bounding the lane that led to the house. 

The Americans, after destroying their camp stores and leaving thedead unburied, retreated to Forty Mile Creek, where they effecteda junction with General Lewis, advancing to their aid with twothousand men. At daybreak on the 8th of June, the American campwas shelled by Commodore Yeo's fleet. The enemy retreated to FortGeorge, abandoning their tents and stores, which were captured byVincent. Their baggage, shipped by batteaux to the fort, waseither taken by the fleet or abandoned on the shore. [Footnote:Withrow's History of Canada, 8vo. Ed. , chap. Xxiii. 1. 316]

CHAPTER IX. 

A BRAVE WOMAN'S EXPLOIT. 

Neville Trueman, found ample occupation in ministering to the sickand wounded, and in visiting his scattered flock throughout theinvaded territory. He was enabled, incidentally, to renderimportant service to his adopted country. It was toward the end ofJune, that one afternoon he was riding through the forest in theneighbourhood of the Beaver Dams, near the town of Thorold, --aplace which received its name from the remarkable constructions ofthe industrious animal which has been adopted as the nationalemblem of Upper Canada, --where there was a small force of Britishtroops posted. In the twilight he observed a travel-worn womanapproaching upon the forest pathway, with an air of bodilyweariness, yet of mental alertness and anxiety. As she drew near, he recognized a worthy Canadian matron, whom he had, more thanonce, seen in his congregation in the school-house at the villageof Chippewa. 

"Why, Mrs. Secord!" he exclaimed, reining up his horse as sheattempted to pass him, furtively trying to conceal her face, "arenot you afraid to be so far from home on foot, when the country isso disturbed?"

"Thank God it is you, Mr. Trueman!" she eagerly replied. "I wasafraid it might be one of the American scouts. 'Home, ' did yousay? I have no home, " she added in a tone of bitterness. 

"Can't I be of some service to you? Where is your husband?"Neville asked, wondering at her distraught air. 

"Haven't you heard?" she replied. "He was sore wounded atQueenston Heights, and will never be a well man again; and ourhouse was pillaged and burned. But we're wasting time; what reckmy private wrongs when the country is overrun by the King'senemies? How far is it to the camp?"

"Farther than you can walk without resting, " he answered. " Youseem almost worn out. "

"Nineteen miles I've walked this day, through woods and thicket, without a bit or sup, to warn the King's troops of their danger. "

"What danger?" asked Neville, wondering if her grief had notsomewhat affected her mind. 

"The enemy are on the move--hundreds of them--with cannon andhorses. I saw them marching past my cottage this very morning, andI vowed to warn the King's soldiers or die in the attempt. Islipped unseen into the woods and ran like a deer, through bypathsand, 'cross lots, and I must press on or I may be too late. "

Not for a moment did this American-born youth hesitate as to hisduty to his adopted country. Wheeling his horse he exclaimed, "Youbrave woman, you've nobly done your part, let me take you to thenearest house and then ride on and give the alarm. "

"I hoped to have done it myself, " she said. "But it is best as itis. Never mind me. Every minute is precious. "

Without waiting for more words, Neville waved his hand inencouragement, and putting spurs to his horse was out of sigh in amoment. In a few minutes he galloped up to the post held by theBritish picket, and flung himself off his reeking steed--incurringimminent risk of being bayoneted by the sentry, because he took nonotice of his peremptory challenge. Bursting into the guard-room, he called for the officer of the day, Lieutenant Fitzgibbon. A fewwords conveyed the startling intelligence--the alarm was promptlygiven--the bugle sounded the "turn cut"--the guard promptlyresponded--the men rushed to arms. Messengers were despatched toan outpost where Captain Ker was posted with two hundred Indians, and to Major de Heren, commanding a body of troops in the rear. 

Neville, followed by two files of soldiers, returned to meet thebrave Canadian matron to whose patriotic heroism was due therescue of the little post from an unexpected attack by anoverwhelming force. They found her almost fainting from fatigueand the reaction from the overstrung tension of her nerves. Leaping from his horse, Neville adjusted his cloak so as to make atemporary side-saddle, and placed the travel-worn woman thereon. Walking by her side, he held the bridle-rein and carefully guardedthe horse over the rugged forest path, the two soldiers fallingbehind as a rear-guard. As they approached the post at BeaverDams, the redcoats gave a hearty British cheer. The guard turnedout, and presented arms as though she were the Queen; and thegallant Lieutenant Fitzgibbon assisted the lady to alight with asdignified a courtesy as he could use to royalty itself. She wascommitted to the care of the good wife of the farm-house whichformed the head-quarters of the post, and every means taken toensure her comfort. By such heroism as this did the stout-heartedCanadian women of those stern war times serve their country at therisk of their lives. 

Vigorous efforts were now made for defence. Trees were hastilyfelled to blockade the road. A breastwork of logs was thrown up ata commanding position, in front of which was an abattis of youngtrees and brush piled up to obstruct approach. LieutenantFitzgibbon had only some forty-three regulars and two hundredIndiana, to oppose a force of nearly six hundred men, includingfifty cavalry and two field-pieces. He must effect by stratagemwhat he could not effect by force. Every man who could sound a, bugle, and for whom a bugle could be found, was sent into thewoods, and these were posted at considerable distances apart. TheIndians and thirty-four red-coats, concealed behind trees, linedthe road. Before long was heard the tramp of cavalry and rumble ofthe field-guns. As they came within range the buglers, with allthe vigour in their power, sounded a charge, the shrill notesringing through the leafy forest aisles. The Indians yelled theirfearful war-whoop, and the soldiers gave a gallant cheer andopened a sharp fire. 

The ruse was as successful as that of Gideon and his three hundredmen with their trumpets and pitchers, in the wars of thePhilistines. After a spirited attack, the advanced guard fell backupon the main body of the enemy, which was thrown into confusion. Some of the cavalry horses were wounded, and dashed wildly throughthe ranks, increasing the disorder. The artillery horses caughtthe infection, and, plunging wildly, overturned one of the gun-carriages in the ditch. At this moment a body of twenty Canadianmilitia arrived, and Fitzgibbon, to carry out his ruse of affectedsuperiority of numbers, boldly demanded the surrender of theenemy. Colonel Boerstler, the American commander, thinking theBritish must be strongly supported, to Lieutenant Fitzgibbon'sastonishment consented. The latter did not know what to do withhis prisoners, who were twice as many as his own force, includingthe Indians. The opportune arrival of Major de Keren and CaptainVilliers, with two hundred men, furnished a sufficient force toguard the prisoners. The chagrin of the latter, on hearing oftheir deception and capture by a handful of red-coats and red-skins, was intense. The name of the heroic Canadian wife, Mrs. Laura Secord, to whose timely information this brilliant andbloodless victory was due, was honourably mentioned in themilitary despatches of the day; and her memory should be aperpetual inspiration to patriotic daring to every son anddaughter of Canada. [Footnote: A portrait of Mrs. Secord, as avenerable old lady of ninety-two, in a widow's cap and weeds, isgiven in _Lossing's Pictorial Field Book of the War of 1812_, page 621; also her autograph and a letter describing her exploit. The Prince of Wales, after his return from Canada in 1860, causedthe sum of L100 sterling to be presented her for her patrioticservice. Lieutenant Fitzgibbon was made a Knight of WindsorCastle. ]

This event was one of the turning points of the campaign. Dearborn, whose forces were wasted away by disease, famine, andthe fortunes of war, to about four thousand men, was beleagueredin Fort George by Vincent with less than half the number oftroops. The British now assumed the offensive, and on the morningof the American national anniversary, the fourth of July, a smallforce of Canadian militia, under Colonel Clark, crossed at day-break from Chippewa to Fort Schlosser, captured the guard, andcarried off a large quantity of provisions and ammunition, ofwhich they were in much need. 

A week later, Colonel Bishopp, with two hundred and forty regularsand militia, crossed before day from Fort Erie to the importantAmerican post of Black Rock. The enemy were completely taken bysurprise, and the block-houses, barracks, dockyard, and onevessel, were destroyed; and seven guns, two hundred stand of arms, and a large quantity of provisions captured. 

One day, about the middle of July, a dust-begrimed, sunburnt, yetsoldierly-looking young fellow, notwithstanding the weatherstained and faded appearance of his dragoon uniform, rode up toThe Holms. He cantered familiarly up the lane and, throwing thereins on the neck of his horse, which proceeded of its own accordto the stable, entered, without knocking, the house. 

Kate was in the dairy, moulding the golden nuggets of butter witha wooden spatula. Stealing up on tip-toe, our dragoon threw hisarms around the girl and gave her a hearty kiss, whose report wasas loud as the smack which he instantly received on his cheek fromthe open palm of the astonished Katharine. 

"A pretty reception you give your brother, " exclaimed the youngman. 

"Why, Zenas!" cried Katharine, throwing her arms ground him, andgiving him a kiss that more than made amends for the slap, "howyou frightened me; you naughty boy. I thought it was one of thoseYankee soldiers. They often come begging for cream or cherries, and get more impudent every day. "

"They won't come again, very soon, " said Zenas, with all his oldassurance. "We will lock them up safe enough in Fort George, andsoon drive them back to their own side of the river. But give ussomething to eat. I'm hungry as a wolf. Where's father?"

"In the ten-acre wheat field. He has to work too hard for hisyears, and can get no help for love or money, " answered Kate, asshe set before her brother on the great kitchen table a loaf ofhomemade bread, a pat of golden butter, a pitcher of rich cream, and a heaped platter of fragrant strawberries just brought in fromthe garden. 

"Didn't I say I'd be back to get in the wheat? And you see I'vekept my word, " said the lad. "This _is_ better thancampfare, " he went on, as the strawberries and cream rapidlydisappeared with the bread and butter. "I have a message for you, Kate. Who do you suppose it is from?" said the rather raw youth, with a look that was intended to be very knowing. 

"If it's from the camp, " replied Kate, calmly, "I know no onethere except Captain Villiers and Mr. Trueman. Is it from eitherof them?"

"Trueman is a first-rate fellow--a regular brick, you know, evenif he _is_ a preacher. You ought to have seen how he stood upfor them Yankee prisoners, and got our fellows to share theirrations with them, although he had helped to bag the game himself. But the message is not from him, but from the captain. He says yousaved his life twice, --once nursing him when he was sick, and onceby keeping those Yankee scouts here, while we got away. We heardall about your adventure. Well, he's gone to help Proctor inMichigan, and might never come back, he said, and he asked mewould I give you this, in case he fell, to show that he was notungrateful; but I had better give it to you now, or I will be sureto lose it. I can't carry such trumpery in my saddle-bags;" and hehanded his sister a small jewel-case. Katharine opened it, and sawan elegant cross, set with gems, lying on a purple velvet cushion. 

"He said his mother gave it to him when he was leaving home, "continued Zenas. "She was kind of High Church, I guess, andthey're most the same as Catholics. He said he had a sort ofpresentiment that he'd get killed in the war, and he didn't wantsome wild Indian to snatch it from his body with his scalp, andgive to his dusky squaw. "

Kate stood looking at the jewel, and knitting her brow in thought. At length she said, "I'll keep it for him till he comes back, as Iam sure he will; and if he should not, " and her voice quivered alittle, for her tender woman's heart could not but shudder at thethought of a violent death, --"I will send it to his mother. Iwrote to her for him when he was wounded, --Melton Lodge, Berkshire, is the address. But I will not anticipate his death inbattle. I feel certain that he will come back. "

As the British lines were drawn firmly around Fort George, inwhich, having repaired the damage caused by the explosion, theAmericans were closely beleaguered, Zenas had no difficulty inobtaining leave of absence to help to harvest the wheat. Othermilitiamen were also available for that service, which was asimportant as fighting, Colonel Vincent averred, as he gavepermission to considerable numbers of his yeoman soldiery toreturn to their farms, while the others maintained the leaguer ofthe fort. Soon after the ingathering of the harvest, however, Vincent was compelled, by the re-enforcement of the enemy, toraise the blockade of Fort George, and again to return to his oldposition at Burlington Heights. 

CHAPTER X. 

DISASTERS AND TRIUMPHS. 

But we must return to trace briefly the general progress of publicevents. Sir James Yeo and Sir George Prevost, with seven vesselsand a thousand men had, early in the season, sailed from Kingstonto destroy the American shipping and stores at Sackett's Harbour. This object was only partly achieved in consequence of theimpromptitude, not to say incompetence of the commander-in-chief. It was felt that the gallant Brock had not yet found hissuccessor. 

In the month of July, Commodore Chauncey again appeared on LakeOntario, with a largely augmented American fleet. With ColonelScott and a force of infantry and artillery, he sailed forBurlington Heights, to destroy a quantity of British stores atthat place, which was the principal depot of Vincent's army. Abody of Glengury Fencibles had been sent from York to protect thedepot, thus leaving the capital defenceless. Chauncey thereforesailed for York, and Scott, landing without opposition on the 23rdof July, burned the barracks, and such public buildings as hadpreviously escaped, broke open the jail, and plundered bothprivate and public stores. Chauncey then sailed for the Niagara. On the 8th of August, he came out of the river to give battle toYeo's fleet of six vessels--less than half his own number. Arunning fight of two days' duration ensued. In endeavouring toescape from the British, two American vessels, the "Scourge, " ofeight, and the "Hamilton, " of nine guns, capsized under press ofsail, and went to the bottom with all on board, except sixteenmen, who were rescued by the boats of the British fleet. Chaunceylost two other vessels by capture, and was glad again to seekrefuge in Sackett's Harbour. 

Stirring events were also transpiring in the West. GeneralHarrison, notwithstanding the disastrous defeat of Winchester, wasdetermined, if possible, to drive the British out of Michigan. Forthis purpose he had, early in the spring, established a rendezvousat Fort Meigs, on the Miami River, near the western extremity ofLake Erie, and formed a depot of stores and provisions. Theexpense of victualling his army was enormous. It is estimated thatevery barrel of flour cost the American Government a hundreddollars. Stores of all kinds had to be carried on the backs ofpack-horses through an almost pathless wilderness, and few of theanimals survived more than one journey. It is estimated that thetransport of each cannon to the lakes cost a thousand dollars. 

Meanwhile, two squadrons were preparing to contest the supremacyof Lake Erie. Perry, the American commodore, had nine vesselswell-manned with experienced seamen, to the number of nearly sixhundred, from the now idle merchant marine of the United States. Barclay, the British captain, had only fifty sailors to sixvessels, the rest of the crew being made up of two hundred andforty soldiers and eighty Canadians. After alternately blockadingeach other in the harbours of Presqu' Isle and Amherstburg, thehostile fleets met on the 10th of September in the shock ofbattle, off Put-in Bay, at the western end of Lake Erie. Perry'sflagship soon struck her colours, but Barclay, his own ship awreck, could not even secure the prize. Through the lack of navalskill of the inexperienced landsmen, the British ships fouled, andwere helplessly exposed to the broadside of the enemy. The heaviermetal of Perry's guns soon reduced them to unmanageable hulks. Thecarnage was dreadful. In three hours, all their officers and halfof their crews were killed or wounded. Perry dispatched toWashington the sententious message: "We have met the enemy. Theyare ours. "

The result of this defeat was most disastrous. All the advantagesresulting from Brock's victory over Hull in the previous year wereforfeited, Michigan was lost to the British, not again to berecovered. Proctor, short of provisions, cut off from supplies, exposed in flank and rear, and attacked in force in front, couldonly retreat. He dismantled the forts at Detroit and Amherstburg, destroyed the stores and public buildings, and fell back along theThames with eight hundred and thirty white men, and five hundredIndians under Tecumseh. Harrison followed rapidly with threethousand five hundred men, several hundred of whom were cavalry, of which Proctor had none. He fell upon the British rear-guard atMoraviantown, October 4th, and captured over a hundred prisoners, and all the stores and ammunition. Proctor was forced thefollowing day to fight at a disadvantage, on ill-chosen ground. Hehad also neglected to break down the bridges behind him, or todefend his position with breastworks, and only six hundred menwere brought into action against sixfold odds. The mountedKentucky riflemen rode through and through the British ranks, dealing, death on every side. The brave Tecumseh was slain at thehead of his warriors. He had fought desperately, even against themounted riflemen. Springing at their leader. Colonel Johnson, hedragged him to the earth. The dragoons rallied around their chief, and Tecumseh fell, pierced with bullets. The rout was complete. Proctor, with a shattered remnant of his troops, retreated throughthe forest to

Burlington Heights, where, with two hundred and forty war-wastedmen, he effected a junction with Vincent's command, which had beencompelled for a time to raise the siege of Fort George, and lakeup its old position. Harrison, the American general, assumed thenominal government of the western part of Upper Canada. [Footnote:See Withrow's History of Canada, pp. 318-322. ]

In these stirring scenes, Captain Villiers and Zenas Drayton borean active part. After the harvest Zenas, eager for active service, had volunteered to join Proctor in the west, and had shared hisdisastrous retreat and defeat. From the camp at Burlington, heforwarded by Neville Trueman a letter to his sister Kate. Thewriting, grammar, and spelling were not quite as good as theymight have been; but the schoolmaster was not abroad in UpperCanada in the early part of the century as he is now. Thefollowing is a copy of the letter, _vertatim et literatim_:--

IN CAMP AT BURLINGTON HEIGHTS, October 10. 

"I take my pen in hand, leastways the quartermaster's, which helent me, to let you know that I am well and hope you are enjoyingthe same blessing, also father and the sorel colt, about which Iam mighty particular, as my roan has fallen lame. You will haveheard about the fight at Moraviantown. It was a bad bizness. Wewas dead-beat with marching day after day, from Fort Maiden; andHarrison, --that's the Yankee general, --had a strong body ofcavalry and captured nearly all our stores and amunishun. Ourkurnel seemed to have kind of lost his head, too; (leastways, that's what I heared Captain Villiers say) and never broke down asingle bridge, nor blockaded the road behind us. A few of usNiagara boys could soon have felled some trees that would stoptheir big guns pretty quick, but we had no axes. Backwoodsfighting has to be done in backwoods way, with the axe and spadeas much as with the musket. But some of these red coats fit inSpain with Wellington, and think what they don't know aboutfighting ain't worth knowing. 

"Well, at Moraviantown was an Indian church, built by a Dutchmissionary from Pennsylvany, and a few houses, and our kurnel gavethe word to halt and make a stand against the enemy. But theground along the River Thames was black and mucky, almost like aswamp, and we was soon fagged out. Afore we knowed it almost, theKentucky mounted rifles was on us a-shouting like mad. They ridright through our lines, cutting and hacking with their heavysabres, and then they formed behind us and began firing with theirmuskets. Our line was completely broken, and badly cut up, andmost of our fellows threw down their arms and surrendered on thespot. They could'nt do much else. 

"But Tecumseh never showed the white feather a bit. He and hisbraves was all painted and plumed, and he wore on his naked breastthe King George's medal Crock gave him, and they emptied a goodmany saddles from behind the trees. When they saw it going so hardwith our fellows, they yelled their war-whoop and rushed at thedragoons. Tecumseh pulled their kurnel off his horse, and wasfighting like a wild cat when a dozen mounted rifles spurred tothe spot, and riddled him with bullets. We'll never see his likeagain, Kate. No white man or red-skin ever was a better soldier. He died for his country like a hero, as he was. He should long beremembered, Captain Villiers says, by every Canadian as thebravest of the brave. [Footnote: An attempt was made in 1877, toidentify his grave in order to pay fitting honours to his bones, but without success. His chief memorial has been the giving of hisname to a township of that Canada for which he gave his life. 

An American poet has thus commemorated Tecumseh's last conflictwith Colonel Johnson;

 "The moment was fearful; a mightier foe Had ne'er swung his battle-axe o'er him; But hope nerved his arm for a desperate blow. And Tecumseh fell prostrate before him. He fought in defending his kindred and With a spirit most loving and loyal, And long shall the Indian, warrior sing The deeds of Tecumseh the royal. "]

"Captain Villiers rallied a couple of companies and brought us offafter a smart skermish. You'd think the Captain was in love withdeath, he was so reckless of his life. We made forced marchesalmost day and night, till we got to Ancaster; and, I tell you, glad men we was when we saw Vincent's lines. We're kind of restednow. Trueman was as good as a surgeon at dressing wounds and thelike, and he had enough of it to do, besides his preaching andpraying, and writing letters for the men. I got a scratch myself, but I thought I'd try and write to you. But I have to sit on theground and write on a drum head, and its kind of tiresome. 

"No more at present from your loving brother, "Zenas. 

"Captain Villiers has asked me to add a post-scriptum, sending hispolite regards. "

This was the first letter Kate had ever received in her life, forin these days His Majesty's mails were not heavily burdened withprivate correspondence; and she had never been further from homethan to York once with her father in a schooner, to see theopening of the Parliament. She read her letter eagerly in herroom, and then rushed back to the parlour exclaiming, "O Mr. Trueman, is he badly hurt?"

"Zenas, do you mean?" asked the young preacher. "Well nothingdangerous if he keeps quiet; but he has a pretty severe sabre cuton his sword arm. But he's well cared for. Captain Villiers looksafter him like a brother. "

"How kind of him, " said Kate, with tears of gratitude in her eyes. 

"It is only paying a debt he owes you, I am sure, " repliedNeville; but as if unwilling to detract a particle from his merit, he added, "He behaved very bravely in the late action, and hispraise is in every body's mouth at Vincent's camp. "

"Who? Zenas? I am sure of that, " replied Kate proudly. 

"Zenas played a gallant part too. His wound is proof of that, "answered Mr. Trueman, "but I was speaking of the Captain. "

"Of course, " said Kate, somewhat coldly, "but he is not my brotheryou know, " and the conversation turned in another channel. 

We now proceed to notice briefly the progress of the warelsewhere. The Americans having overrun so large a part of UpperCanada, were free to concentrate their efforts on the reduction ofKingston and Montreal. Wilkinson, Commander-in-Chief of the forceson the Niagara and Upper St. Lawrence frontiers, receivedinstructions to effect a junction with the "Army of the North"about to advance from Lake Champlain for the subjugation of LowerCanada. There were comparatively few British troops in the lowerprovince, and only three thousand active militia, under GeneralSheaffe, for the protection of a thousand miles of frontier. 

In pursuance of the American plan of invasion, on the 24th ofOctober, an army of nine thousand men, with ample artillery, underGeneral Wilkinson, rendezvoused at Grenadier Island, nearSackett's Harbour; but the stone forts of Kingston, garrisoned bytwo thousand men under De Rottenburg, protected that importantnaval station from attack even by a fourfold force. Wilkinson, therefore, embarking his army in three hundred batteaux, protectedby twelve gun-boats, in the bleak November weather threaded thewatery mazes of the Thousand Islands in his menacing advance onMontreal. A British "corps of observation, " eight hundred strong, under Colonel Morrison, followed the enemy along the river bank. Anumber of gun-boats also hung on the rear of the Americanflotilla, and kept up a teasing fire, to their great annoyance andinjury. Wilkinson slowly made his way down the St. Lawrence, halting his army from time to time, to repel attack. NearPrescott, his flotilla of batteaux suffered considerably by acannonade from the British batteries, as they were passing thatplace on a moonlight night. The molestation that he received fromMorrison's corps and from the loyal local militia was so greatthat he was forced to land strong brigades on the Canadian shorein order to secure a passage for his boats. At the head of theLong Sault Rapids, Wilkinson detached General Boyd with a force ofover two thousand men, to crush the opposing British corps. Thecollision took place at Chrysler's Farm, --a name thenceforth ofpotent memory. The battle-ground was an open field, with the riveron the right, the woods on the left. For two hours the conflictraged. But Canadian valour and discipline prevailed over twofoldodds, and the Americans retreated to their boats, leaving behindone of their guns captured by the British. Their loss in thisengagement was over three hundred killed and wounded, --more thantwice that of their opponents. Wilkinson's disorganized forceprecipitately descended the Long Sault Rapids, and awaited at St. Regis the approach of Hampton's army. It was destined to wait invain. 

The invasion of Lower Canada by way of Lake Champlain had alsobeen attended with serious disasters. Early in September, GeneralHampton, with a well appointed army of five thousand men, advancedfrom Plattsburg on that lake, with a view to a junction withWilkinson's army, and a combined attack on Montreal. On the 21stof October he crossed the border, and pushed forward his forcesalong both sides of the Chateauguay River. Sir George Prevostcalled for a levy of the sedentary militia, who rallied loyallyfor the defence of their country. Colonel De Salaberry, with fourhundred Voltigeurs, --sharpshooters every one, --took up a strongposition at the junction of the Chateanguay with the Outarde, defended by a breastwork of logs and abattis. General Izzard, witha column three thousand five hundred strong, attempted to dislodgehim. The Voltigeurs held the enemy well in check till they were indanger of being surrounded by sheer force of numbers. By a cleverruse, De Salaberry distributed his buglers widely through thewoods in his rear, and ordered them to sound the charge. Theenemy, thinking themselves assailed in force, everywhere gave way, and retreated precipitately from the field. Hampton soon retiredacross the borders to his entrenched camp at Plattsburg. Wilkinson, sick in body and chagrined in mind, learning theshameful defeat of the "Grand Army of the North, " abandoned theidea of further advance on Montreal, scuttled his boats andbatteaux, and retired into winter quarters on the Salmon River, within the United States boundary. Here he formed an entrenchedcamp, and sheltered his defeated army in wooden huts all thefollowing spring. 

Thus the patriotism and valour of some fifteen hundred Canadiantroops hurled hack from our country's soil two invading armies oftenfold strength, and made the names of Chrysler's Farm andChateanguay memories of thrilling power, and pledges of theinviolable liberty of our land. [Footnote: See Withrow's History ofCanada, 8vo. Ed, pp. 322-325. ]

CHAPTER XI. 

ELDER CASE IN WAR TIME. 

We now return to trace the progress of events in Upper Canada. After the British disasters on Lake Erie, and at Moravian Town, Sir George Prevost instructed Vincent to fall back on Kingston, abandoning the western peninsula to the enemy--a desperateresolve, only to be adopted in the last extremity. At a council ofwar held at Burlington Heights, however, it was wisely decided byVincent and his officers to stand their ground as long aspossible. Colonel McClure, the commandant of the American force, was strongly posted at Twenty Mile Creek, and his foraging partiesravaged the country, and pillaged the inhabitants. 

The season for active operations in the field having now passed, the Canadian militia were dismissed to their homes withinstructions to hold themselves in readiness for immediate actionshould necessity demand their aid. Zenas Drayton had returned toThe Holms, quite recovered of his wound and covered with glory bythe distinction it had conferred upon him. He strode about with amartial air, to the undisguised admiration of the maids of thehousehold and of all the damsels of the neighbourhood. Hisfather's eyes followed him sometimes with a look of pride, butoftener with one of glistening wistfulness, for in these troubloustimes pre-eminence of merit was pre-eminence of peril. But Katelavished all the love and homage of her woman's heart upon herbrother, as the ideal hero of her dreams. The lad was in a fairway to be spoiled, if he was not also pretty sure to have theconceit taken, out of him in the stern school of adversity. 

One evening, early in December, the family were sitting aroundtheir kitchen fire, which snapped and roared up the wide chimneythroat as merrily as though such a thing as war had never beenknown. The squire and Zenas sat on opposite sides of the hearthcomparing the old soldier's reminiscences of the Revolutionary Warwith the boy's recent military experiences. Between them sat Kateas she had sat on that memorable evening, more than a year before, on the eve of the fatal fight of Queenston Heights. How much shehad lived in that short time! The outbreak of the war had foundher a light-hearted girl; she had now the graver mien andsometimes the thought-weighted expression of a woman. But to-night, a look of happy contentment rested on her face an she gazedmusingly on the glowing embers, or occasionally took part in theconversation of her father and brother. 

Suddenly was heard without the fierce harking of the mastiffwatch-dog, which as suddenly subsided and was followed by a quick, joyous yelp of recognition. Shuffling feet were then heard in theouter kitchen, stamping off the snow. 

"Who can that he?" asked the squire. 

"Some of the neighbours, I suppose, " said Kate, for the hospitablehearth presented rare attractions to the rustic swains of thevicinity. 

"Some of Kate's admirers I should say, " laughed Zenas, as he roseto open the door, "only they don't hunt in couples. "

Two snow-besprinkled, travel-stained men, came in out of thedarkness and stood revealed in the glowing fire-light as SandyMcKay and Tom Loker. 

"Welcome home! However did you get here?" asked the squire warmlyshaking their hands, and making room for them at the fire. "Wethought you were prisoners in the hulks at Sackett's Harbour. "

"So we were, " replied Tom Loker with all his old _sangfroid_, "longer than we wanted. "

"How did you like picking oakum for the Yankees, Sandy?" askedZenas. 

"Nae oakum picked I, " said Sandy with an air of grimdetermination. "It was clean against ma conscience to gi' aid orcomfort to the King's enemies in ony way. "

"What did they say to that?" asked the squire. "I thought they hada way of overcoming scruple's of that sort. "

"They could na owercome mine, " said Sandy. 

"They jest clapped him in the bilboes and kept him there for onewhile, " interjected Tom. "For me, I'd rather pick all day at thetarred rope though it _was_ hard on the fingers. "

"Did they use you well otherwise?" asked Kate with commiserationin her voice. 

"Prisoners can na be choosers, Miss Katharine, " responded Sandy. "I suppose our treatment was naithing by ordinair. We hadna thaeoaten bannocks and hot kale ye aftens gave us. But warst o' a' wasbein' pent in the close hot hulks 'tween decks, whaur ye couldnastan' upricht wi'out knocking your heid again the timmers, andwhaur ye gat na a sough o' the blessed air o' heaven save whatstole in through the wee port-holes. How we tholed it sae lang Idinna ken. We faured better after yon Methody parson came. "

"Ay, he wor a good un, he wor, " said Tom. 

"Who was he?" asked Kate with much interest. 

"He wuzzn't much to look at, " continued Tom; "that is, therewuzzn't much of him. But he had a heart big as a mountain; therwuz nothin he wouldn't do for them poor prisoners. 'He wuz come topreach salvation, ' he said, 'to them that wuz bound. ' Case wuz hisname, --a leettle man, but worth mor'n a dozen ornary men. Iremember one day he came 'long side with a boat load of tea, coffee, sugar, and several jars of milk for the prisoners; and hepreached, and prayed, and exhorted so long that it seemed as if hecouldn't tear hisself away. "

We may be allowed here to quote, in illustration of the labours ofthat heroic man, Elder Case, to whom Canadian Methodism owes sucha debt of gratitude, extracts of two of his letters written aboutthis period:

"I was present, " he says, "a few hours after the battle ofSackett's Harbour, where I witnessed a scene of death and carnagemore moving than ever I saw before. Numbers lay cold in death. Many were groaning with their wounds and bleeding in their gore. Myself and two preachers were in Rutland, about ten miles from theHarbour, and were about to commence clearing off a camp-ground, but on hearing the cannon and constant roll of small arms we gaveup the idea of work and betook ourselves to prayer. Suchsensations I never realized before. We knew many of ouracquaintances were there, among whom were brethren in the Lord. Wethought on the condition of the women whose husbands and sons wereexposed; the welfare of the country, where so much was at stake, and the honour of the nation concerned; but more than this athousand times--the immortal interests of the thousands who wereengaged in the contest, Americans and Englishmen, all of onecreation--alike the subjects of redeeming blood, all accountableto the King of kings, and deserving the same condemnation. Withthese reflections we immediately called the household and fellupon our knees in prayer, and the Lord poured on us the spirit ofsupplication. We wept aloud and prayed most fervently to the Rulerof nations and Saviour of men that He would pardon our nationalcrimes, save men from death, and have mercy on the souls of thoseconstantly falling in battle. You may suppose that the constantsound of the instruments of death gave weight to our concern, andardency to our petitions, with all that grace could inspire. 

"We then mounted our horses and set out for the scene of action, that, if possible, we might afford some assistance as ministers, and administer consolation to the wounded and dying. When wereached the Harbour the British had retreated to their shipping, leaving part of the dead and wounded upon the field of battle. These, with the others, were brought in from the field; the deadwere stretched side by side in rows, and the wounded on beds andstraw in as comfortable a condition as could be expected. We wereconducted by a friend to the several hospitals, where I saw thedistress of about eighty wounded. I cannot describe my feelings tohear the groans of the wounded and dying, some pierced through thebody, others through the head, some bruised by the falling oftimbers, others with broken bones, and one whose face was shotaway (save his under jaw) by a grape-shot. He was yet breathingstrong. This was a shocking view. Some were in such pain theycould not be conversed with; others being fatigued and broken oftheir rest were asleep, but we conversed with many who manifestedseriousness, whom we pointed to the suffering, bleeding Saviour, and exhorted them to look to Him for mercy. Here I saw how usefula faithful and feeling chaplain might be. The best opportunitywould present itself in alleviating the miseries of men in somedegree, by procuring such things as the distressed most needed, and by comforting them in their afflictions; and here he might beheard though at another time his counsel might be slighted. 

"Having been without bread for a long time, many of the militiawere very hungry. Some wanted coffee, some milk, some bread. Wegave them the biscuits we carried down, but could procure no milkfor them. I really desired to stay with them; my heart thirsted todo them good. 

"On leaving the Harbour, we called on some brethren, who, withtheir neighbours, carried down several gallons of milk, anddistributed it among the wounded. We also represented their caseto the congregation at the close of the camp-meeting, when twenty-five dollars were contributed and put into proper hands, whopurchased coffee, sugar, and other delicacies which they muchneeded, and from time to time distributed among them. For thisthey were very thankful, and both English and American blessed mewith many good wishes when I again visited the hospital, fourweeks ago. 

"Our preachers on the lines have frequent opportunities ofpreaching to the soldiers, who are very fond of hearing. We findit necessary to avoid all political discussions, both in publicand in private. 

"Having been kindly indulged by Col. Larned, commandant to theprisoners, we most joyfully embraced the privilege of proclaimingto them the sweet liberty of the Gospel. They were called togetherby their officers, and a more attentive congregation I neverexpect to address again. As soon as we began to sing there wasweeping; and immediately on our kneeling to prayer they all kneltdown, and here and there we heard the voice of 'Amen' to ourpetition for their salvation. I could not solve this till afterthe service. To my great surprise and mingled grief and joy, several brethren and acquaintances from Canada came and madethemselves known unto us; they were militia in arms, and weretaken near Fort George. Among these were Messrs. George Lawrence, leader at Four-Mile Creek; William Clinton, from the head of thelake, and Russel Hawley, brother of David Hawley, of the Bay ofQuinte. Their captivity was an affliction which made friends moreconsoling. " [Footnote: Carroll's Case and his Cotemporaries. Vol. I. , pp. 316-20. ]

On this statement, Dr. Carroll thus comments:

"Mr. Case says the Canadian prisoners 'were militia in arms, ' butMr. Lawrence was an exception. The reader will remember that hewas one of the Methodist Palatine stock, and brother of JohnLawrence, the second husband of Mrs. Philip Embury. In the war-time he was so advanced in years as to be exempt from militiaduty, although his sons bore arms, and one of them was wounded theday his father was taken prisoner. Mr. Lawrence, senior, keptabout the peaceful avocations of his farm, and continued to meethis little class in his own house in those stormy times. He wasmade a prisoner at his own door at Cross-Roads. [Footnote: Aboutfour miles west of Niagara. ] The writer, though only a child offour years, was there, and remembers well his arrest, as he does, all events consecutively since the battle of Niagara. TheAmericans were then in the occupancy of Fort George, and a portionof the British army were entrenched at the Cross-Roads, about halfa mile from Mr. Lawrence's residence. A general skirmish Lad takenplace all that morning between the pickets and advanced guards ofthe two armies. A body of only ten American Indians, or white mendisguised like Indians, advanced toward Mr. Lawrence's, where anofficer's mess was kept and a guard of thirty soldiers posted. 

"The cowardly officer of the guard, one _McLeod_ (let hisname go down to posterity), threatened to 'cut off the first man'shead who fired a shot;' and they fled to the camp, leaving thewomen and children to the mercy of the savages. These latter, whenthey came up, shot a corporal of the Glengaries, a Mr. Smith, whochanced to be there, and who boldly stood on his defence. Mr. Lawrence thinking the matter some _emeute_ between thesoldiers and our own Indians, passed through the front gate intothe road and gave one of the savages his hand, who took and heldit, while another came up with an angry countenance and graspedthe old gentleman by the neck-cloth, and made him a prisoner. Heand poor Smith, whom only the courage of a woman, Mrs. Cassaily, kept the savages from killing outright in the house, whither hehad crawled, were led; away from our sight. Smith died on theroad. The alarm was given before any one had broken last. We allfled. The writer's mother and her four youngest children, passingthe camp, found the army preparing for march, and an elder son andbrother just mounting his horse with a view to coming to ourrescue. We followed the retreating army through the Black Swamproad all that weary day, and broke a twenty-four hours' fast atsunset. We had the supreme felicity of extending the hospitalitiesof our humble house in York to Mr. Lawrence, whom we all reveredand loved as a father, towards the close of the war, on his wayback from captivity. " [Footnote: Case and his Cotemporaries. Pp. 320-22. ]

We return from this digression to the group at the fire-side ofthe Holms. 

"How did you get away?" asked Zenas. 

"Tam here gied 'em French leave, " replied Sandy, "He just droppitoot o' a port-hole into the water after the guard made his roundsand got awa in the mirk; I wonner he was na droonded. "

"So I wuz e'en a'most. But wuss still was that villian of a sentryblazing away at me. It's lucky the night wuz so dark. But Ithought I'd have to give up afore I got to land. I had to lie onthe beach panting like a dying mackerel. Well, I walked all nightto Cape Vincent, and at daybreak I just borrowed one of UncleSam's boats and paddled across to Wolfe's Island, and soon aftergot to Kingston. "

"How much longer did _you_ stay, Sandy?" asked the squire, who said the story reminded him of the adventures of the Yankeeprisoners in the _Jersey_ hulk during the old war. 

"Weel Tam here helped me tae win oot, as I may say, " repliedSandy. "He hadna eneuch of fechtin', sae he mun join thae yoemanrycorps that followed Wilkinson's army doun the St Lawrence, andtook part in the battle o' Windmill Point. They took a hantle o'preesoners there, and sune cam a' cartel' they ca' it, offering anexchange. We did garrison duty at Fort Henry awhile, and learnedthe big gun drill; it may come in useful yet. "

"How got you here?" asked the squire. "you never marched fromKingston at this time of year, surely. "

"No, " said Tom Loker, "the ten-gun brig _William and Mary_, Captain Richardson, master, wuz a-carrying stores to ColonelVincent at Burlington, and we got leave to take passage in her. Wereached there last night and walked all day to get here, and gladwe are to get back to our old quarters, the best we've seen sincewe left them. " [Footnote: Captain Richardson afterwards became adistinguished minister and bishop of the Methodist EpiscopalChurch of Canada, and was for many years Agent of the Upper CanadaBible Society. He was under fire at the taking of Oswego, andwhile engaged rigging a pump, a round shot carried away his arm. We have heard him say in his own parlor, picking up a carpet ball, "It was a ball like this that took off my arm. " He became, onrecovery from his wound, sailing master of Sir James Yoe's flagship the _St Lawrence_, a position requiring much nauticalskill, as the huge kraken drew twenty-three feet of water, andcarried something like a hundred guns. Few men were better knownor more esteemed in Canada than Bishop Richardson. He died in1875, full of years and full of honours, beloved and regretted byall classes of the community. ] By this time Kate had a heartysupper ready for the wanderers, to which they did ample justicebefore returning with grateful hearts to their old lodgings in thecapacious attic. By such privations and sufferings on the part ofher faithful yeomanry, were the liberties of Canada maintained inthose stormy days of war and conflict. 

CHAPTER XII. 

A DARK TRAGEDY--THE BURNING OF NIAGARA. 

The victory of the British arms in Lower Canada led to vigorousefforts to drive the American invaders out of the upper province. Lieutenant-General Drummond assumed command, and at once resolvedto regain possession of Fort George. Early in December hedespatched Colonel Murray from Burlington Heights with a forceof five hundred regulars and Indians to drive in the maraudingbands of the enemy that were pillaging the country. McClure, theAmerican general, fell back on Niagara and Fort George, and, fearing an attack in force, and his garrison being much reduced, resolved to evacuate the fort and abandon the country. But beforedoing so he resolved, in obedience to instructions from the WarDepartment at Washington, to perpetrate an act of inhumanbarbarity which shall hand down his name to infamy so long as thestory shall be told. In order to deprive the British troops ofwinter quarters he determined to burn the town of Niagara, leaving the innocent and non-combatant inhabitants, helplesswomen and little children, the sick and infirm, homeless andshelterless amid the rigours of a Canadian winter. 

It is one of the dread results of international conflict that theinhabitants of the hostile frontiers, who may have previouslydwelt in good fellowship and neighbourly helpfulness, are oftenchanged to deadly enemies, and even claim for their bitterhostility the sanctions of duty. There was one conspicuousexception on the banks of the Niagara. Mary Lawson, the daughterof the village miller and merchant of the little hamlet ofYoungstown, that nestled under the wing of Fort Niagara on theAmerican side of the river, was as blithe and bonnie a lass ofeighteen summers as ever gladdened a father's heart. Admirers Maryhad in plenty, but the must eligible of them all, in the opinionof the village gossips, was young Ensign Roberts, attached to theAmerican forces at the Fort. 

Not so, however, thought Mary. The favoured of her heart was asmart young Canadian, who for some time had acted as clerk in herfather's store, and had shortly before opened a smallestablishment of his own on the opposite side of the river, in thethriving village of Niagara. Every Sunday young Morton crossed inhis own light skiff to attend church with Mary; and on summerevenings many were the pleasant sails they had upon the shiningreaches of the river, watching the sun go down in golden glory inthe bosom of blue Ontario, and the silver moon bathe in its palelight the bosky foliage of the shores, beneath which, dark andheavy, crouched the stealthy shadows, while the river rippledcalmly by. 

With the outbreak of the war, however, these pleasant sails andvisits ceased. George Morton naturally espoused the cause of hisnative country, with which, too, all his commercial interests wereidentified. This brought him at once under the ban of Mary'sfather, and his visits were interdicted. Ensign Roberts tookadvantage of the absence of his rival to press his suit, whichSquire Lawson favoured as being likely, he thought, to wean Maryfrom her forbidden attachment to one who was now her country'sfoe. But he little knew the depth and the strength of a woman'saffection. The more her royalist lover was aspersed and maligned, the more warmly glowed her love, the more firm was her resolve tobe faithful unto death. 

In the action which led to the British evacuation of Fort George, young Morton took an active part in endeavouring to repel theinvasion of his country. As barge after barge transferred to theshore, under cover of a heavy fire, the hostile force from thecrescent-shaped fleet that lay moored on the blue bosom of thelake before the town, he with the militia company to which he wasattached, was lying in a hollow near the beach, to check ifpossible the advance of the foe. A round shot from the fleetstruck the ground in front of him, covering him with earth andbreaking the arm with which he was loading his musket. At the samemoment a bullet from the enemy struck his nearest comrade, passingright through his body as he lay upon the ground. A slight quiverconvulsed his frame, and then it was at rest forever. As the foeadvanced in force, driving back the British, George, unable toretreat as rapidly as the rest, was taken prisoner and with otherssent across to the American fort. 

Personally, George Morton received every kindness from the officerand surgeons of the American hospital; and in the gentleministrations of Mary Lawson, which he shared with the rest of thewounded, he found a compensation for all his sufferings. Upon hispartial convalescence he was released on parole, and returned toNiagara to look after his disorganized and partially ruinedbusiness. By his skill and industry, aided by the fictitiousprosperity caused by the presence of a numerous army, before thewinter it had become again exceedingly flourishing, but only to beruthlessly and completely destroyed. 

Amid the active preparations made for the transfer of the Americanforces and _materiel_ of war across the river, preparatory tothe destruction of Niagara, intelligence of the atrocious designcame to the knowledge of Mary Lawson, chiefly through theindignant dissent and remonstrance of some of McClure's ownofficers against the unsoldier-like cruelty. The intrepid girl'sresolve was taken on the instant. She determined under cover ofthe night to give the alarm to Morton, and through him to theinhabitants, that they might, if possible, frustrate the infamousdesign, or at least rescue their moveable property fromdestruction. 

It required no small courage to carry out her purpose. The winterhad set in early and severe. The river was running full of ice, which rendered crossing, especially by night, exceedinglyperilous. To this was added the danger of being challenged, and itmight be shot, by the sentries of the American camp. But when didtrue love in man or woman stop to calculate chances, or hesitateto encounter danger or even death for the beloved one?

It was on the 9th of December--a bleak, cold, cloudy night--thatMary, having secured the aid of her father's faithful servant, Michael O'Brian, a jolly but rather stupid Irishman, who knew nofear, escaped through the window of her room after the family hadretired to rest, which was not till near midnight, and set forthon her perilous mission of mercy. In order to avoid the Americansentries they attempted to cross about a mile above the camp, andin the murky darkness, fearlessly launched their little boat, steering by the lights in the town, slumbering unconscious of itsfate, where some patient watcher kept her vigil beside a sick bed. 

The dark water eddied and gurgled amid the ice-floes, from which aghastly gleam was reflected, like that from the face of a corpsedimly seen amid the dark. Occasionally a huge fragment of icewould grate, and crash, and crunch against the frail ribs of theboat, as if eager to crush it and frustrate the generous purposeof its passengers. But the strong arm of O'Brian pushed a waythrough the ice, while Mary sat wrapped in her cloak and in busymeditation in the bottom of the boat. 

But they had not calculated on the strength, of the current, andthe resistance of the ice. In spite of every effort they werebeing rapidly borne down the stream. Another danger stared them inthe face. Should they be carried into the lake with the floatingice, they might before morning be drifted out of sight of land andperish miserably of cold or hunger; or be dashed upon the ice-bound shore, where they could hear the waves roar harshly, likesea-beasts howling for their prey. 

But the bitter north wind, which had been such a source ofdiscomfort, now proved their salvation from this imminent danger. Blowing fresher every moment it arrested the ice-drift, and formeda solid barrier from shore to shore and extending far up theriver. But this in turn effectually prevented the progress of thelittle boat which had almost readied the Canadian shore; and worsestill, the dim grey light of morning began to dawn. 

Suddenly the sight of a black object in the middle of a whitefield of now dense ice, and the sound of O'Brian's oar striving toforce a passage through, caught the watchful eye and ear of thesentry near whose beat they had unfortunately drifted. 

"Halt!" rang out sharp and clear on the frosty air the challengeof the sentry. 

"Faith an' it's halted fast enough I am, " answered Mickey. 

"Who goes there?" repeated the sentry's voice. 

"Sure I don't go at all, that's what's the matther, " said theboatman, unconsciously anticipating a slang phrase of later times. 

"Advance and give the countersign, " exclaimed the enraged soldier, who in martinet obedience to discipline, would challenge adrowning man before trying to save him. 

"It's that same I would if I could, " replied the bewilderedIrishman, "but I can't walk on wather, and this ice-slush isn'tmuch betther. " "Unless you answer, I'll fire, " shouted the sentry, to whom Mickey's maunderings, half drowned by the crashing ice andgusty wind, were unintelligible. 

"Au' that same is the very thing I want, for it's starved wid thecowld I am, " said the shivering creature, who with characteristicingenuity had failed to apprehend the meaning of the menaceaddressed to him. But a sudden flash and the dull thud of a bulletagainst the ice beside him interpreted to his sluggish brain thedanger in which he stood. 

"The saints be betune us an' harm, " he exclaimed, devoutlycrossing himself. "Oh, sure ye won't murder a body in cowld bloodwho's kilt entirely already. It's half drownded and froze I am, without being riddled like a cullender wid your bullets as well. "

"Why, Mickey O'Brian!" exclaimed the astonished soldier, who hadby the gun-flash recognized the familiar features of a quondamfriend; "why on earth didn't you tell your name, man? I might havekilled you as dead as a door-nail. "

"An' a purty thrickit 'ud be for ye, too, Tommy Daily. It's not ashamedof my name I am, an' if I'd know'd it was you, I'd tould ye before. But help us out of this an' I'll bear ye no malice whativer. "

The guard had turned out at the report of the gun, and gettingsuch planks as were available laid them on the floating ice; butstill they could not reach the boat. Tommy Daily with fertileingenuity tying some twine to his ramrod fired it over the skiff, when it was easy to send out a strong fisherman's line, which Micktied to the thwarts, and a dozen strong arms drew the boatashore. [Footnote: The present writer witnessed the rescue of ashipwrecked crew, in the manner here described, near this veryspot. ]

The benumbed form of Mary was borne to the guard-room, and EnsignRoberts, the officer of the night, immediately sent for. 

"Why, Miss Lawson!" he exclaimed with astonishment, "to what canwe owe your presence at such a time and place as this?"

"To the inhumanity of your commander, and to my desire to rescuean innocent people from its consequences. "

"I regret, Miss Lawson, that my military duty prevents mypermitting you to carry out your generous purpose. You will beentertained hero as comfortably as our rude accommodation willallow till the river clears, when you will be sent safely home. "

"Is this your generosity to a fallen foe, Mr. Roberts?" sheexclaimed; but, too proud to ask a favour from a discarded suitor, she relapsed into haughty silence. 

But Colonel McClure was not without plain-spoken remonstranceagainst his contemplated act of inhumanity. In the prosecution ofhis spiritual functions Neville Trueman had free access to thepeople of the town of Niagara, many of whom were members, of hischurch or congregation. Among these a large number of Americansoldiers were billeted, and very burdensome and unwelcome gueststhey were. From the unusual commotion and covert threats and hintsdropped by the soldiers on the eve of the evacuation, Truemanapprehended some serious disaster to the towns-people. With theprompt energy by which he was characterized, he resolved toproceed to head-quarters and to intercede for the devoted town. Hewas received by Colonel McClure with a cold and repellent dignity, and obtained only evasive answers. As he was about to leave thepresence of that officer, the Colonel said in a constrainedmanner, --

"Mr. Trueman, I respect your calling, and respect your character;I therefore advise you if you have any personal effects in thetown to secure them at once, or I will not be answerable for theresults. "

"I have only a few books and clothes, " said Neville, "but thereare families here who have much at stake. Surely no evil can beintended those innocent and non-combatant people. "

"There exist reasons of military necessity which I cannot expectyou to appreciate, " said the Colonel, stiffly. 

"There are no reasons that can justify inhumanity, " repliedNeville, stoutly, " and inhumanity of the gravest character itwould be to injure the persons or the property of thesedefenceless people. "

The gallant Colonel seemed rather to wince under these words, but, as if anxious to exculpate himself, he replied, "An officer has nooption in carrying out the instructions received from the militaryauthorities. "

"That will not remove from you, sir, the responsibility of theact, if, as I infer, the wanton destruction of this town isintended, " replied Neville, with significant emphasis. "I makebold to affirm that the act will be as unwise as it will be cruel. It will provoke bitter retaliation. It will tenfold intensifyhostile feeling. I know these people. I have travelled largelythrough this province, and mingled with all classes. They areintensely loyal to their sovereign. They would die rather thanforswear their allegiance. They will fight to the last man andlast gun before they will yield. If wanton outrage be inflicted onthis frontier, I predict that fire and sword shall visit yourcities, and a heritage of hatred shall be bequeathed to posterity, that all good men, for all time, will deplore. "

"Young man, I admire your zeal, although I may not appreciate yoursympathy for a country which I understand is not your own, "answered the officer, haughtily. "I am, however, responsible formy acts not to you, but to the War Department at Washington. Thisinterview is fruitless. I see no advantage to be gained byprolonging it. "

"Sir, " said Neville, solemnly, as he rose to leave, "you areresponsible to a higher tribunal than that at Washington. I havenot learned to limit my sympathies and my instincts of humanity bya boundary line. You are a scholar, sir, and perhaps you rememberthe words of the Latin poet: 'Homo sum; humani nihil a me alien umputo. ' I have the honour to wish you good day, " and he bowedhimself out. 

As he returned to the town he beheld soldiers going from house tohouse warning the people to turn out and remove their property, and proceeding, with inhuman alacrity, to set the buildings onfire. Then might be seen the women--most of the men were away withthe troops--hastily gathering together their own and theirchildren's clothing and a few treasured heirlooms, and with tearsand bitter lamentation leaving their sheltering roof, going forthlike the patriarch, not knowing whither they went The frost hadset in early and severe. The snow lay deep upon the ground. Yet atthirty minutes' warning, of a hundred and fifty houses in Niagara, all were fired save one. There was scarce time to rescue thenursling babe, and the aged and infirm, from the doomed dwellings. The wife of Counsellor Dickson lay on a sick bed. Her husband wasa prisoner on the American side of the river. The unfortunate lady"was carried, bed and all, and placed in the snow before her owndoor, where, shivering with cold, she beheld her house and allthat was in it consumed to ashes. "[Footnote: Jaines. Quoted byAuchinleck. ] Of the valuable library, which had cost between fiveand six hundred pounds sterling, scarcely a book escaped. 

Late into the night burned the fires, reddening the midnightheavens with the lurid flames of comfortable homesteads, well-filled barns and is stacks of grain. Herds of affrighted cattlerushed wildly over the adjacent meadows, the kine lowing piteouslywith distended udders for the accustomed hands of their milkers ateventide. Of the hundred and fifty dwellings fired, only two orthree escaped by accident, one of which still remains; and fourhundred women and children were left to wander in the snow or seekthe temporary shelter of some remote farm-house or Indian wigwamin the woods. Some wandered for days in the adjacent dismal "BlackSwamp, " feeding on frost-bitten cranberries, or on a casual rabbitor ground-hog. 

But a swift avenging followed the dastardly outrage. In two daysthe British re-occupied the site of the smouldering town, now buta waste; of blackened embers, which the Americans had, evacuated--horse, foot, and artillery--not a hoof being left behind. Soprecipitate had been their retreat, however, that a large quantityof stores, together with the barracks and tents, were left, whichfell into the hands of the British. As the old red-cross flag wasrun again on the flag-staff of Fort George, an exultant cheer wentup to heaven, and not a few eyes of those hardy militiamen werefilled with tears. Their homes were but heaps of ashes, it wastrue; but their country remained; its soil was relieved from thefoot of the invader, and their loyal allegiance to their sovereignhad been shown by their costly sacrifice. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A STERN NEMESIS--A RAVAGED FRONTIER. 

On the evening of that eventful day, again a family gathering tookplace at The Holms--for so closely had trial, adventure, andsuffering for a common cause knit together the guests and inmates, that they seemed like a family group. The sword of thegrandfather, above the mantel, was now crossed by the cavalrysabre of Zenas, and the old Brown Bess was flanked by thedragoon's carbine. Good cheer in abundance spread the board, forthe broad acres of the farm and the kindly ministries of naturehad not stinted their yield on account of the red battle-year. Butan air of pensiveness, almost of dejection, broken by sharpoutbursts of indignation marked the social converse. Manyincidents of privation and suffering, in consequence of theburning of the town, were told. Indeed the resources of thehousehold had been taxed to the utmost to relieve the pressingdistress, and every room and guest-chamber was filled withhouseless refugees from the inclemency of the weather. 

"There will be a grim revenge for this, before long, " said CaptainVilliers, who had embraced the earliest opportunity to renew hishomage at a shrine that had almost unconsciously become very dear. 

"In which I hope to take part, " interjected Zenas, with a fiercegesture. 

"We must carry war into Africa, " continued the Captain. "Hitherto, for the most part, we have acted on the defensive. The time hascome when we must repay invasion by invasion, and outrage byretaliation. " So does the cruel war-spirit grow by that on whichit feeds. 

"That 'ere fort with its big guns a-grinnin' an' growlin' likemastiffs in their kennels, has bullied us long enough, " said TomLoker, who availed himself of the democratic simplicity of thetimes to express his opinion. 

"It wadna be sae muckle a job to tak it, I'm thinkin', " said SandyMcKay, looking up from his musket that he was oiling and cleaning;"it's no sae strang as it luiks. I ken its rayelins and demilunesunco weel, bein' sax weeks a prisoner wi'in thae walls. Gin yourance ower thae brig and inside the outworks it wad be easy eneuchtae win au' haud the fort. "

"That's the rub, " said the squire, "to gain a footing and win theoutworks. If they keep a vigilant watch it would be a difficulttask. The only way would be to surprise the garrison. A few stout-hearted men, well supported, might overpower the guard. That's theway Ethan Allen took Ticonderoga, in the old war. "

"Father, " said Zenas, with enthusiasm, "It can be done, and mustbe done, and I must help do it. I claim a place in the forlornhope. I'd like to be the first man in. "

The old man winced a little at the awful contingency of death anddanger for his soldier boy, so close at hand; and Kate gazed athim, with tears of sympathy filling her eyes and the bloodmantling her cheek. 

"As God wills, my son, " answered the sire. "I said the time mightcome when you should bear the battle's brunt. If your heart callsyou I will not say nay. I gave you to your country, and dare nothold you back. "

"Young maister, " said McKay, with Scottish fidelity, "whaur yegae, I'll gae. I'm an auld mon, noo, an' how better could I gi' malife, gin sae it's written, than for my King? Forbye I ken weel theplace, an' sae God wills, I can guide ye intill it by nicht as weelas ithers could by day. "

"I'm not the man to shirk the call to arms when the bugle sounds, "remarked Tom Loker, "but I must say I've no stomach for this goingbefore I'm sent. It's a sheer temptin' o' Providence, seems tome. "

"Hoot, mon, " said Sandy, "what is to be, is to be. Gin ye're tofa', ye'll fa' at the rear o' thae column as sune as at the heido' it, an' I'm gey sure the first is the mair honourable place. ""Had I two score gallant fellows like you and Zenas, " broke inCaptain Villiers, grasping the hilt of his sword, "with a coupleof companies to support us, I'd guarantee the fort would he takenbefore a week. Something more will come of this, I warrant"

Full of this daring scheme, the very next day he proposed toColonel Murray the bold plan. That officer sent for McKay, questioned him thoroughly as to the fort and its defences, and hadhim draw a rude plan of its approaches, curtains, and bastions. Heheartily fell in with the idea and made immediate preparation forits execution. 

The night of the eighteenth of December was moonless and dark. Acolumn of five hundred men of the Forty-First and Hundredthregiments, a grenadier company of the First Royals, and fiftymilitia, filed out of the portals of Fort George, bearing scalingladders and other implements of assault, as silent, as ghosts. Atthe head marched the forlorn hope of twenty men, among whom wereCaptain Villiers, Zenas, and McKay. But each man, though he borehis life in his hand, walked proudly erect, as if with theassurance of victory, or of a reward more glorious than evenvictory. They marched several miles up the river to a spot where acrossing could safely be effected without discovery orinterruption. 

Now began the stealthy march on the devoted fort. Like an avengingNemesis, shod with silence, the column approached the unconsciousgarrison. Every order was conveyed in a whisper. No clink ofsabre, nor clatter of muskets was heard. The snow, which had begunto fall, muffled the tread and deadened each sound. The columnwound on in the hush of midnight over the wintry waste, stealinglike a tiger on its prey. The piquets, lulled into security by thestorm, were avoided by a _detour_. Now amid the blackness ofnight, the deeper blackness of the fort loomed up. McKay and Zenasmoved to the front beside Captain Villiers who whispered hiscommands. McKay silently led the way to the sally-port. A hugegrenadier grasped the sentry by the throat to prevent his givingthe alarm. The forlorn hope glided through the small opening ofthe sally-port, and, well instructed beforehand, rushed to themain gateway, overpowered the guard, and flung open the huge iron-studded gates. The British column now poured in, and before drumhad rolled or bugle rung had reached the central quadrangle. Thegarrison awoke from slumber only to a futile struggle with anexasperated foe, and after a short resistance were compelled tosurrender. In this assault the loss of the victors was only sixmen--a circumstance almost unparalleled in military annals--thatof the vanquished unhappily was considerably greater. 

Three hundred prisoners, three thousand stand of arms, and animmense quantity of stores were captured--the latter a great boonto the well-nigh famished people of the devastated town ofNiagara. [Footnote: The writer was intimately acquainted with anold resident on the Niagara River, who in his youth had been aprisoner in the American fort, and formed part of the forlorn hopewhich aided in its capture. From him many interesting incidents ofthe war were learned. ]

We would fain here close this record of retaliation. Enough hadbeen done for British honour and for the punishment of the enemy. But when dread Bellona cries "Havoc, " and slips the leashes of thehellish dogs of war, the instincts of humanity seem lost, andbaptized men seem in danger of reverting to unredeemed savagery. Trueman expostulated, and pleaded, and prayed for a mitigation ofthe penalty inflicted on the vanquished, but in vain. In ruthlessretaliation for the burning of Niagara, the British ravaged theAmerican frontier, and gave to the flames the thriving towns ofLewiston, Manchester, Black Rock, and Buffalo. At the latterplace, an American force, two thousand strong, made a stoutresistance, but was defeated, with the loss of four hundred men, by the British, with only one-third the number of troops, December30. 

Thus the holy Christmas-tide, God's pledge of peace and good-willtoward men, rose upon a fair and fertile frontier scathed andblackened by wasting and rapine, and the year went out in "tearsand misery, in hatred and flames and blood. "

The marks of recent conflict were everywhere visible, and--saddestevidence of all--was the multitude of soldiers' graves whosesilent sleepers no morning drum-beat should arouse forever. Thepeaceful parish church of Niagara had been turned into a hospital, where, instead of praise and prayer, were heard the groans ofwounded and dying men. Everything in fact gave indications ofmilitary occupation and the prevalence of the awful reign of war. 

Seldom has the frightful destructiveness of war been morestrikingly illustrated. The commerce of the United States wascompletely crippled by the blockade of her ports, her revenuefalling from $24, 000, 000 to $8, 000, 000. Admiral Cockburn, of theBritish Navy, swept the Atlantic coast with his fleet, destroyingarsenals and naval stores wherever his gun-boats could penetrate. Great Britain also recovered her old prestige in more than onestubborn sea-fight with a not unworthy foe. On a lovely morning inJune, the United States frigate "Chesapeake, " of forty-nine guns, stood out of Boston harbour amid the holiday cheers of asympathizing multitude, to answer the challenge to a naval duel ofH. M. S. "Shannon, " of fifty-two guns. They were soon lockedmuzzle to muzzle in deadly embrace, belching shot and grapethrough each other's sides, while the streaming gore incarnadinedthe waves. The British boarders swarmed on the "Chesapeake's"deck, and soon, with nearly half his crew killed or wounded, shestruck her colours to the red-cross flag. In five days theshattered and blood-stained vessels crept together into Halifaxharbour, the American captain, the gallant Lawrence, lying in hiscabin cold in death; the British commander, the chivalric Broke, raving in the delirium of a desperate wound. The slain captain wasborne to his grave amid the highest honours paid to his valour bya generous foe. Amid the roar of Broadway's living tide, beneaththe shadow of old Trinity Church, a costly monument commemorateshis heroic and untimely death. A few days later, the British brig"Boxer, " of fourteen guns, surrendered to the U. S. Brig"Enterprise, " of sixteen guns. In one quiet grave, overlookingCasco Bay, beside which the writer, one sunny summer day, meditated on the vanity of earthly strife, their rival captainslie buried side by side. Some kindly hand had decked their graveswith tiny flags, which in sun and shower had become dimmed andfaded; and planted fair and innocent flowers which breathed theirbeauty and fragrance amid the shadows of death. So fade and passaway the false and transient glory of arms. So bloom and flourishin immortal beauty the supernal loveliness of virtue and piety. 

It is a relief to turn away from these scenes of war and bloodshedto the record of human affection and heroic self-sacrifice anddevotion. 

George Morton, the faithful Canadian patriot, crippled, impoverished, sick at heart, and despairing of ever claiming MaryLawson as his bride, returned after the burning of his native townto the ashes of his ruined home to begin life over again. Apartial indemnity from the Government enabled him to resumebusiness on a modest scale, which, by thrift and industry, grewand increased with the gradual growth of the town. Ensign Robertswas among the slain at the taking of the Fort, and Mr. Lawson'sproperty was destroyed by the conflagration that followed. The oldman, broken by his losses and by exposure, gradually sunk, anddied, Mary nursing him devotedly to the last. After years of delaythe love of the no longer youthful pair found its consummation ina happy marriage, followed by a calmly tranquil wedded life. 

"Although this cruel war, " whispered George to his bride upontheir wedding-day, "has robbed us of all our own worldly wealth, has cost you your father, and has left me a cripple for life, yetit could not take from us the priceless wealth of our affection. "

"Nay, dear heart, " she replied, "the long trial of our love haspurified it from earthly dross, and proved it the type of loveimmortal in the skies. "

In after years, to children and to children's children on hisknees, George Horton used often to recount the perils of thosefearful scenes of war and wasting; but no theme was more pleasingto himself and to his youthful auditory, while the comely matronin her mature beauty blushed at the praise of her own heroism, than the episode of the fair Mary Lawson's midnight adventure inthe ice on the Niagara, in the terrible winter of the war. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

TORONTO OF OLD. 

The state of religion in Canada could not be expected to beprosperous during the prevalence of the demoralizing influences ofwar. The Methodist circuit work, as well as the work of otherdenominations, was very much disorganized. It was, from theinterruption of intercourse caused by the unnatural conflict, without any supervision of the American Conference by which theCanadian preachers had been stationed. They were consequently leftto their own resources to carry on their work as best they could, and most of them struggled bravely, like Neville Trueman, theexample we have selected for illustration, against the variousobstacles in their way--the recklessness and spiritualindifference begotten by the war--and the unjust and cruelsuspicions and aspersions to which they were themselves subject. 

The Rev. Henry Ryan, as Presiding Elder of the Upper CanadaDistrict--extending from the banks of the St. Lawrence to thebanks of the St. Clair--endeavoured, by frequent journeyingsthroughout the vast field, to encourage both preachers and peoplein carrying on the work of God, amid the disheartenments anddifficulties of the times. The Rev. Ezra Adams, in hisrecollections of the period, says, "He used to travel fromMontreal to Sandwich, holding Quarterly Meetings: to accomplishwhich, he kept two horses at his home at the Twenty Mile Creek, and used one on his trip from the Niagara Circuit on his downcountry route; the other he used on his Sandwich route. "

Supplementing this statement with additional facts, the Rev. Dr. Carroll, in his invaluable "History of Canadian Methodism, "further remarks: "As his income was very small and precarious, heeked out the sum necessary to support his family by selling amanufacture of his own in his extensive journeys, and by hauling, with his double team in winter time, on his return route fromLower Canada, loads of Government stores or general merchandise. "Such were the shifts to which Methodist preachers had to resort inorder to sustain themselves in a work which they would not desert. Mr. Ryan, by his loyalty, gained the confidence and admiration ofall friends of British supremacy, and, by his abundant and heroiclabours, the affections of the God-fearing part of the community. During the progress of the war he held three Conferences, one aswe have seen at St. David's; another, in 1813, at Matilda; and athird, the following year, at the old Methodist settlement of theBay of Quinte. 

After the burning of Niagara, and the complete disorganization ofhis circuit by the border strife, Neville Trueman sought aninterview with his Presiding Elder during one of his periodicalvisits to the town of York. In consequence of the militaryexigencies of the times, navigation was maintained across the lakeby armed brigs and schooners during the greater part of thewinter. Taking advantage of one of these trips, Neville obtainedpermission from the military authorities to take passage in thearmed schooner _Princess Charlotte_ to York. The voyage wastedious and the weather bleak, so he suffered severely from thecold. As York harbour was frozen over, he landed on the ice andmade his way to the twice-captured capital. It presented anythingbut a striking appearance, unless for dreariness and ruin. Thehalf-burned timbers of the Parliament Building, Jail, and Court-House, showed in all their hideous blackness through the snow thatfailed to conceal beneath its mantle of white the desolation ofthe scene. In its most flourishing estate before the war, the townhardly numbered some nine hundred inhabitants, whose residences, for the most part humble wooden structures, were grouped along theloyally-named King Street, near the river Don. At the westernextremity of the straggling town were the ruin-mounds of the fort, rent and torn by the terrific explosion of its magazine. On thebanks of the Don, and commanding the bridge across that sluggishstream, as though the enemy thought it not worth the trouble ofdestroying, stood a rude log blockhouse, loop-holed for musketry, the upper story projecting over the lower, after the manner ofsuch structures. [Footnote: A cut of this is given in "Lossing'sField Book of the War. "]

Neville proceeded to the hospitable house of Dr. Stoyles, on KingStreet, near the intersection of the little-used road leading tothe country, --Yonge Street, now the great artery of thecirculation of the city. Till the erection of the first humblemeeting-house, the Methodist preaching was often held in Dr. Stoyles' house. That gentleman also gave a cordial welcome to thetravelling preachers of the day, and here Trueman found, as heexpected, Presiding Elder Henry Ryan. 

The following is the account given by Dr. Scadding, our Canadianhistoriographer and antiquarian, in his charming book "Toronto ofOld, " of the mother Church of Methodism in this goodly city, theparent of the fair sisterhood which now adorn its streets: "Thefirst place of public worship of the Methodists was a long, low, wooden building, running north and south, and placed a little wayback from the street. Its dimensions were forty by sixty feet. Inthe gable end towards the street were two doors, one for each sex. Within, the custom obtained of dividing the men from the women;the former sitting on the right hand on entering the building, thelatter on the left. "

The learned Doctor then goes on to illustrate historically theseparation of the sexes in places of public worship, from the timeof the Jews and the primitive church down to the modern GreekChurch, so that at least the early Methodists had good precedentfor their usage. 

This old church was situated on the south side of King Street, onthe corner of Jordan Street, so named from Mr. Jordan Post, thepioneer goldsmith of the capital, while the street in the rearcommemorates the name of Melinda, his wife. When the AdelaideStreet Church, which, for the time, was a very imposing brickstructure, was built on what was then the public square, the oldmother church was converted into a "Theatre Royal, "--to what baseuses must we come!

All this, however, at the time of which we write, was still in thefuture; and Elder Ryan preached and prayed and exhorted to alittle company in the worthy Dr. Stoyles' great kitchen, which wasemployed for that purpose as being the most commodious room in thehouse. It was the day of small things for Methodism in the capitalof Upper Canada. But of the religious zeal of the little companyof believers, we may judge from the fact that several of themembers of the society came from two to eight miles, through theproverbially wretched roads of "Muddy York, " to the class meeting. [Footnote: Carroll's "Case and his Cotemporaries, " Vol. II. , p. 167. ]

CHAPTER XV. 

A QUARTERLY MEETING IN THE OLDEN TIME. 

Having enjoyed the counsels and encouragements of his PresidingElder, Neville gladly embraced the invitation to ride with him inhis substantial sleigh, well filled with wheat straw, on whichthey sat, to the village of Ancaster, where a grand QuarterlyMeeting was to be held, to which the people came for many milesaround. Religious privileges at that time were few, and theseoccasions were made the most of by the Methodists of the day. There was preaching on the Saturday; then a business meeting, whenthe contributions of the several classes were received. Of moneythere was very little; but promises of contributions of flour, pork, potatoes, hay and oats were gladly received instead. 

On Saturday night a rousing prayer-meeting was held in the logmeeting-house. Fervent exhortations were given, for the preacherslooked for immediate results of their labours, and they were notdisappointed Several of the brethren and sisters "got happy, " andexpressed their religions enjoyment in hymns and spiritual songsoften of rugged rhythm, but, sung with fervour as they were, theyseemed to bear up the soul as on wings to the very gate of heaven. Most of these hymns had a refrain of simple yet striking melody, in which every one in the house took part. A great favourite wasthe following:

 "O the house of the Lord shall be filled With glory, hallelujah! With glory, hallelujah! With glory, hallelujah! Amen

 "Let the preachers be filled with thy love. Sing glory, hallelujah! etc. 

 "Let the members be filled with thy love, Sing glory, hallelujah! etc. 

 "And the work of the Lord shall revive, Sing glory, hallelujah! Amen!"

The tide of religious feeling rose higher and higher. The standinginvitation of Methodism to weary souls seeking the forgiveness oftheir sins, was given. Several persons presented themselves at the"penitent bench, " most of whom were enabled to rejoice in a senseof conscious pardon. 

Sunday was indeed a "high day" at the old Ancaster log meeting-house. From near and far, in sleighs, on horseback, and on foot, came methodist worshippers, and found hospitable welcome with thefamilies of the neighbourhood. First there was love-feast at nineo'clock. The cruel war had not left unscathed that rusticcongregation. There were rusty weeds of woe, --a black ribbon, abit of crape, or a widow's cap, --that bore witness to the loss ofhusband or son in the sad conflict. The empty sleeve, pinnedacross the breast of one stout young fellow, showed that thestrong right arm with which he had hoped to fight his battle oflife, and hew out a home in the wilderness, had been buried in agory trench with the bodies of his slain friends and neighbours. 

But their temporal sufferings seemed to have driven these simple-minded people nearer to the source of all comfort and consolation. Many of the experiences and hymns had quite a martial ring. One ofthe latter was as follows:

 "Ye soldiers of Jesus, pray stand to your arms. Prepare for the battle, the Gospel alarms. The signal of victory, hark! hark! from the sky; Shout, shout, ye brave armies, the watchmen all cry, Come with us, come with us, Come with us in love, Let us all march together to Heaven above. 

 "To battle, to battle, the trumpets do sound, The watchmen are crying fair Zion around; Some shouting, some singing, salvation they cry, In the strength of King Jesus, all hell we defy. Come with us, " etc. 

As this was taken up by one after another and welled into a grandchorus, it was impossible not to share the enthusiasm that itcreated. Another prime favourite was the following:

 "Jesus, my king, proclaims the war; I want to die in the army; Awake, the powers of hell are near, I want to die in the army. 

 "'To arms! to arms!' I hear the cry, 'Tis yours to conquer or to die, ' O the army, the army, the army of the Lord! I want to die in the army. "

The god-fearing Canadian yeomanry, as they sang these strains, nourished at once their religious feelings and their patrioticenthusiasm. They felt in their hearts that love of King andcountry, and their valiant defence and self-sacrifice on theirbehalf, were also an acceptable service to God. 

After the love-feast was a short intermission, during which aluncheon of seed-cakes, comfits and doughnuts were eaten as apreparation for the after service. Elder Ryan, whose warm, emotional Irish nature had been deeply affected by the experiencesof the love-feast, preached one of his most spirit-stirringsermons. It was like the peal of a clarion calling to the battleof Armageddon the warriors of God against the powers of darkness. He was interrupted, but not the least disconcerted, byexclamations of "Amen!" "Hallelujah!" "Praise the Lord!" Theyseemed rather to give wings to his eloquence, for soaring instill loftier flights of eloquence. 

After the sermon the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper wasadministered to those devout worshippers. By these sacredordinances, amid the carking cares and tribulations of the presentlife, were kept in view the far more important realities of thelife that is to come, and the souls of the people were enbravedand strengthened for the conflicts, both literal and figurative, to which they were called. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE PROTRACTED MEETING. 

The day after the Quarterly Meeting, Elder Ryan drove to his homeif home it could be called, where he spent not one-tenth part ofhis time--at the Twenty Mile Creek. Neville who travelled thusfar with him, thought nothing of the twenty miles walk to theHolms, where he had left his horse. 

One of his plans for the spiritual welfare of his scattered flock, was the holding of a series of protracted meetings at the varioussettlements. One of these was held at the wooden school-house ofthe little hamlet of Queenston. An old pensioner of theRevolutionary War had gathered a few children together and taughtthem their catechism, and as much of "the Three R's" as he knew. He was a staunch Churchman, but had a friendly feeling to theMethodists, because Mr. Wesley had been himself a clergyman of theEstablished Church. 

The meeting awakened a deep and wide-spread interest. The awfulscenes of carnage and death, of which the little village and itsimmediate vicinity had been the theatre, seemed to have broughtthe realities of another world more vividly before the moralconsciousness of the community. Moreover there were few familiesthat had not lost some friend or acquaintance, or perchance--

 A nearer One atill, and a dearer One yet than all other. 

Under these chastening influences many hearts were peculiarly opento the reception of divine truth. The gracious invitations of theGospel, and the warnings and admonitions of the Law, were alikefaithfully and affectionately urged by the young preacher. It wasa characteristic of the preaching of the times that it had in it astrong back-bone of doctrine. It was very different from theboneless jelly-fish-like preaching we sometimes hear, --vague andindefinite, without a single clear conception from beginning toend. 

A very profound impression was made by one sermon especially, on asubject on which Neville seldom preached, but which on thisoccasion was strangely impressed upon his mind. The text was thatsublime Scripture and its context: "And I saw a great whitethrone, and Him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and theheaven fled away; and there was found no place for them. "

The solemn impression of the sermon was greatly deepened by thesinging, to a weird wailing sort of tune, of the hymn whichfollowed. The hymn, whose majesty of imagery--a majesty derivedfrom the Scriptures themselves--and whose resonant cadence gave itmuch of the character, in English, of the sublime _Dies Irae_, in Latin, was as follows:--

 "The chariot! the chariot!--its wheels roll in fire, As the Lord cometh down in the pomp of His ire; Lo! self-moving, it drives on its pathway of cloud, And the heavens with the glory of God-head are bowed. 

 "The trumpet! the trumpet! the dead all have heard, Lo! the depths of the stone-covered charnel are stirred! From the sea, from the earth, from the south, from the north, All the vast generations of men are come forth. 

 "The judgment! the judgment!--the thrones are all set, Where the Lamb and the white-vested elders are met! There all flesh is at once in the sight of the Lord, And the doom of eternity hangs on His word. "

A picket of soldiers was billeted in the village, several of whomattended the meeting ostensibly for the purpose of making game ofthe "Yankee preacher. " But such was the intense earnestness of theman and the spiritual power that attended his message, that allattempts to "make game" of the services were soon abandoned, andnot a few who "came to mock remained to pray. "

A deep seriousness pervaded the entire neighbourhood. The usualwinter amusements and dancing parties were, to a great extent, forgone--and even the utilitarian paring bees in the great farmkitchens were shorn of much of the fun and frolic and divinings ofthe future by means of apple-parings thrown over the leftshoulders, or apple-seeds roasted on the hearth. The present wasfelt to be too sad, and the future too full of foreboding toencourage fore-readings of the book of fate. The great revival wasthe subject of fireside conversation at many hearths, and of deepquestionings in many hearts. Some of the most notorious ill-liversof the neighbourhood had experienced the emancipating spell of theTruth that maketh free, and were no longer the slaves of vice anddrunkenness. 

Katharine Drayton pondered these things in her heart. She wasconscious of many good impulses, and her life had been marked bymany generous and noble traits. But she felt in her inmost soulthat these alone would not suffice. She could not from her heartrepeat the words which she often sang in the congregation with herlips, --

 "Jesus, thy Blood and Righteousness, My beauty are, my glorious dress; 'Midst flaming worlds in these array'd. With joy shall I lift up my head. 

 "Bold shall I stand in thy great day, For who aught to my charge shall lay? Fully absolved through these I am, From sin and fear, from guilt and shame. "

She still felt an aching yearning of her soul for a perfectsympathy that she had never known since her mother died. Often asa little child, in some childish grief or trouble, she had flungherself on that loving mother's bosom and wept out her sorrowthere. And now, with the burden of the dreadful war impending likea hideous night-mare on her soul; with her constant foreboding andsolicitude for her brother, so thoughtless--nay reckless in hisdaring--a yearning for his soul's immortal welfare, if he shouldbe stricken down untimely, even more than for his body, she felt adeep soul-longing for--she knew not what--but for some support andsuccour for her filtering spirit. She knew not that it was thewooing of the Celestial Bridegroom for the young love of her soul;that it was the voice of the Heavenly Father, saying, "Daughter, give me thy heart. "

One night, heavy with a weight of care, and full of vague yetterrible apprehensions of the future, she flung herself upon herpillow and bursting into tears, sobbed out the pitiful cry, "Omother, mother! see thy sorrowing child. " As she lay sobbing onthe pillow, she seemed to hear a voice of ineffable sweetness, whispering to her soul the words of a familiar Scripture: "As onewhom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort thee. "

The holy words inspired a sense of hope and confidence in hersoul, and led her to lift up her heart in prayer to that lovingSaviour who hath promised to send the Comforter to them thatmourn. As she knelt in prayer in her little chamber, the moonlightflooding with radiance her white-robed form like the exquisitepicture described in Keats' St. Agnes' Eve, and pound out herwhole soul to God, she felt the sweet assurance of acceptancefilling her heart as the Master said once more: "Daughter, be ofgood cheer, thy sins are all forgiven thee. "

She felt, however, that if she would experience the fulness ofthat Divine comfort she must not seek to hide it in her heart, butconfess it before men. And from this she experienced aninvoluntary shrinking. Her nature was one susceptible of greatdepth and tenderness of feeling, but it was also oneconstitutionally reserved and sensitive. She knew, moreover, thatsuch an act as joining the Methodists would be exceedinglydistasteful to her father, whom she loved with a deep andimpassioned affection. He had made the Methodist preachers welcometo his house with the characteristic hospitality of a Virginiagentleman, and because he respected their character and work; buthe himself retained his allegiance to the Church of England, whichhe seemed to think identified with his fealty to the King. 

Almost unconsciously the thought of Captain Villiers obtrudeditself into Katharine's mind, not without some misgivings as tohis opinion of the course which she felt to be her duty. Not thatfor a moment she entertained the thought of any right on his partto influence her performance of duty, or of any purpose on hers tobe influenced by him. 

Accompanied by her brother Zenas, Kate, on the next evening, attended the protracted meeting. The school-house was crowded. Towards the close of the service, those who had, since the lastmeeting, accepted the yoke of Christ, were asked to confess Him. "That, " thought Kate, "means me; but how can I do it?" She hadnever even dreamt of speaking in public. It seemed impossible. Butshe heard the words sounding in her ears, "Whosoever will confessMe before men, him will I also confess before My Father which isheaven. " Necessity seemed laid upon her; yet she shrank from theordeal. 

At this moment a pure, sweet, contralto voice began to sing withgreat fervour of expression, which gave assurance of the deepfeeling with which the words were uttered, a hymn of ratheruncouth rhythm, with an oft-repeated refrain which, however, thrilled many a heart. It ran as follows:--

 "Come, ye that love the Lord, Unto me, unto me; Come, ye that love the Lord, Unto me; I've something good to say About the narrow way, For Christ the other day Saved my soul, saved my soul-- For Christ the other day saved my soul. "

 "He gave me first to see What I was, what I was; He gave me first to see What I was. He gave me first to see My guilt and misery And then He set me free. Bless His name, bless His name, And then He set me free, bless His name!"

As if constrained by a spell-like influence, Kate rose to herfeet, and in a modest but clear and concise manner made herconfession of filial trust in the Saviour, and of consciousadoption as His child. When this young and timid girl had thustaken up the cross of confession, others were emboldened to followher example. One after another paid their tribute of thanksgiving, while at intervals glad songs of praise welled forth from greatfulhearts. Some of these, great favourites at the time, are nowalmost unknown. A general characteristic of these songs was asimple refrain, first sung as a solo, but gradually taken up byone after another, till a grand chorus rose and swelled like theorgan chant of the winds among the neighbouring pines. One ofthese, sung to an exultant measure, ran thus:--

 "O brothers, will you meet us On Canaan's heavenly shore? O brothers, will you meet us Where parting is no more?"

 CHORUS. --"Then we'll march around Jerusalem, We'll march around Jerusalem, We'll march around Jerusalem, When we arrive at home. "

Another, of touching pathos--with tears, as it were, in everyline, and often bringing tears of greatful emotion to many an eye, sung as it was to a sweet plaintive air--ran thus:--

 "Saw ye my Saviour? Saw ye my Saviour? Saw ye my Saviour and God? Oh! He died on Calvary, To atone for you and me, And to purchase our pardon with blood. 

 "There interceding, there interceding? Pleading that Burners might live-- Crying, 'Father! I have died! Oh! behold My hands and side! O forgive them, I pray Thee, forgive. "

Another, of similar strain, thus set forth in a sort of recitativethe story of the resurrection of our Lord:--

 "Oh, they crucified my Saviour, They crucified my Saviour, They crucified my Saviour, And they nailed Him to the cross. 

 "Then Joseph begged His body, etc. , And he laid it in the tomb. 

 "Oh, the grave it could not hold Him, etc. , For He burst the bars of death. 

 "Then Mary came a-running, etc. , A-looking for her Lord. 

 "Oh, where have you laid Him, etc. , For He is not in the tomb. 

 "Oh, why stand ye gazing? etc. , Oh, ye men of Galilee?

 "Don't you see Him now ascending! etc. , There to plead for you and me. 

 "By-and-by we'll go to meet Him, etc. , Where pleasures never fade. "

While the incomparably superior lyrics of Wesley and Watts weregenerally sung in the public service of the Sabbath, when thepreacher gave out the hymns from the book; yet these simpler andruder strains were the greater favourites at the revival meeting. By these the godly forefather's of Methodism in Canada nourishedtheir souls and enbraved their spirits for the heroic work inwhich they were engaged, of consecrating the virgin wilderness toGod. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

HEART TRIALS. 

"Well, Kate, " said Zenas, as he and his sister rode homewardthrough the solemn moonlight and starlight, "You have burned yourboats and broken down the bridge. There is no going back. "

"I hope not, Zenas, " she replied, "but I feel very much the needof going forward. I have only made the first step yet. "

"Well, you've started on the right line, anyhow. It was a pluckything to do. I did not think it was in you. You are naturally soshy. I wish I could do the same myself, but I haven't thecourage. "

"Don't think of yourself, Zenas, nor of your comrades; but of theloving Saviour who died for you and longs to save you. "

"Upon my word, Kate, it made me feel more what a coward I am tosee you standing before the whole meeting than all the preaching Iever heard. "

"I felt that I ought, that I must, " said Kate, "but after I rose Iforgot every one there and spoke because my heart was full. OZenas, just give up everything for Jesus; be willing to endureanything for Jesus; and you'll feel a joy and gladness you neverfelt before. Why, the very world seems changed, the stars and thetrees, and the moonlight on the river were never so beautiful; andmy heart is as light as a bird. "

"I wish I could, Kate. I remember I used to feel something likethat about Brock. I could follow him anywhere. I could have diedfor him. "

"Well, that feeling is ennobling. But much nobler is it to enlistunder the Great Captain, the grandest teacher and leader the worldever knew; and what is better far, the most loving Saviour andFriend. "

With such loving converse, the brother and sister beguiled thehomeward way. As Kate retired to her room a sweet peace floodedher soul as the moonlight flooded with a heavenly radiance thesnowy world without. Zenas, on the contrary, was ill at ease, andtossed restlessly, his soul disturbed with deep questionings ofthe hereafter, during much of the night. 

As Kate sat at the head of the table next morning, where hermother had been wont to sit, some of her dead mother's holy calmand peace seemed to rest upon her countenance. So thought herfather as he looked upon her. 

"How like your mother you grow, child, " ha said when all the resthad left the table. 

"Do I, father? I hope I shall grow like her in everything. I havelearned the secret of her noble life. I have found her bestfriend, " and she modestly recounted her recent experiences. 

Little more then passed, but a few days afterwards, the Squiretook occasion, when he was alone with his daughter, to say, "Ihope you are not going to join those Methodists, Kate. I respectreligion as much as any one; but I think the Church of your fatherought to be good enough for you. You've always been a good girl. Idon't see the need of this fuss, as if you had been doingsomething awful. Besides, " he went on, a little hesitatingly, asif he were not quite sure of his ground, "besides it will mar yourprospects in life, if you only knew it. "

"I don't understand you, father, " replied Kate, with an expressionof perplexity. "You have always thought too well of me. I know mylife has been very far from right in the eyes of God. I feel Ineed pardon as much as the worst of sinners. "

"Of course we're all sinners, " went on the old man. "The PrayerBook says that. But then Christ died to save sinners, you know;and I'm sure you never did any thing very bad. But what I mean isthis: You must be aware that you have made a deep impression uponCaptain Villiers, and no blame to him either. He is an honourablegentleman, and he has asked my permission to pay his addresses. Iasked him to wait till this cruel war is over, because while itlasts a soldier's life is very uncertain, and I did not wish toharrow up your feelings by cultivating affections which might beblighted in their bloom. Nay, hear me out, child, " he continued, as Kate was about to reply, " I did not intend to speak of thisnow, but the Captain is a strict Churchman, and so were hisancestors, he says, for three hundred years, and he would not, Iam sure, like one for whom he entertains such sentiments as hedoes toward you, to cast in her lot with those rantingMethodists. "

Kate had at first blushed deeply, and then grew very pale. Shehowever listened to her father patiently, and then said quietly, but with much firmness, "I respect Captain Villiers very highly, father; and am very grateful for his kindness to us all, andespecially to Zenas when he was wounded. I feel, too, the honourhe has done me in entertaining the sentiments of which you speak. But something more than respect is due to the man to whom I shallentrust my life's keeping. Where my heart goes, there will go myhand; there, and not elsewhere. "

"Pooh! pooh, child. Girls are always romantic, and never knowtheir own mind. You will think better of it. I'm getting to be anold man, Kate, and would not like to leave you unsettled in lifein these troublous times. You owe me your obedience as a daughter, remember?"

"I owe you my love, my life, father, but I owe something tomyself, and more to God. I feel that my taste and disposition endthat of Captain Villiers are very different, and more differentthan ever since the recent change in my religious feelings. Itwould be at the peril of my soul, were I to encourage what youwish. "

"Nonsense, girl. You are growing fanatical. You never disobeyed mebefore. You must not disobey me now. "

Kate smiled a wan and flickering smile of dissent; but to say moreshe felt would be fruitless. A heavy burden was laid upon heryoung life. She knew the iron will that slumbered beneath herfather's kind exterior; but she felt in her soul a will asresolute, and with a woman's queenly dignity she resolved to keepthat soul-realm free. In her outward conduct she was more dutifuland attentive to her father's comfort than ever; but she feltpoignantly that for the first time in her life an injunction waslaid upon her by one who she so passionately loved which she couldnot obey. She found much comfort in softly singing to herself inthat inviolate domain, the solitude of her own room, a recentpoem which she had clipped from the _York Gazette, _ andwhich, in part, expressed her own emotions:--

 "Jesus, I my cross have taken, All to leave and follow Thee; Naked, poor, despised, forsaken, Thou, from hence, my all shalt be; Perish every fond ambition, All I've sought and hoped and known, Yet how rich is my condition! God and heaven are still my own!

 "And while Thou shalt smile upon me, God of wisdom, love, and might, Foes may hate, and friends may shun me Show Thy face and all is bright. Go, then, earthly fame and treasure! Come disaster, acorn, and pain! In Thy service, pain is pleasure; With Thy favour, loss is gain. 

 "Man may trouble and distress me, Twill but drive me to Thy breast; Life with trials hard may press me, Heaven will bring me sweeter rest. O 'tis not in grief to harm me, While Thy love is left to me; O 'twere not in joy to charm me, Were that joy unmixed with Thee. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

CHIPPEWA AND LUNDY'S LANE. 

During the remainder of the winter the domestic history of thehousehold at The Holms was unmarked by any incidents. Thedischarge of her homely duties and kindly charities to the peopleof the devastated village of Niagara who still lingered in theneighbourhood engrossed all the time and energies of KatharineDrayton. These wholesome activities prevented any morbid breedingsor introspections, and furnished the best possible tonic for thestrengthening of her moral purposes. Captain Villiers foundfrequent opportunities of visiting The Holms. His manner to Katewas one of chivalric courtesy; but, with a self-imposed restraint, he studiously endeavoured to repress any manifestation of tenderfeelings. Kate was cordial and kind, but as studiously avoidedgiving an opportunity for the manipulation of such feelings had itbeen contemplated. 

Neville Trueman was engaged in special religious services nightafter night for nearly the whole winter at several appointments ofhis circuit. The revival influence seemed to widen and deepen asthe weeks went by. He often called to invite Zenas to thesemeetings. At times the young man seemed strangely subdued anddocile, and Neville rejoiced over what he considered the yieldingof his will to the hallowed influences of the good Spirit of God. At other times he seemed wilful and wayward, or even petulant andtesty, giving evidence of the resistance of his human will to theDivine drawings of which he was the subject. At such times thefaith of Neville was sorely tried; but his patience andforbearance were never exhausted, and the sisterly affection andtenderness of Katharine were redoubled. Zenas would then break outinto self-upbraidings and self-reproaches; and Kate, not knowingwhat to say, said little, but, in the solitude of her chamber, prayed for him all the more. 

"Kate, you're an angel and I'm a brute, " he said one day after oneof these exacerbations of temper; "I don't see how you can bearwith me. "

"Bear with you, Zenas!" she replied, tears of sympathy rilling hereyes, "I could give my life for you. Alas! my brother, very farfrom an angel am I; I am a poor weak sinner, and I need the graceof God every day to cleanse my heart and keep it clean. "

"If you, who are a saint, need that, what do I need, who am viler, than a beast?" he exclaimed with an impassioned gesture. 

"You need the same, Zenas, dear; and it is for you if you onlywill seek it, " she replied laying her hand gently on his arm. 

He snatched her hand, kissed it passionately, then dropped it andturned abruptly away. She looked after him wistfully; but felt aglad assurance spring up in her heart that the object of so manyprayers could not be finally lost. 

Thus matters went on for several weeks. At last one day Kate wassewing alone in her little room, when through the window she sawZenas approaching with long elastic strides from the barn. Bursting into her presence, he exclaimed, with joyous exaltationof manner, "I've done it, Kate! Thank God, at last I've done it!"

She had no need to ask, as she looked into his transfiguredcountenance, an explanation of his words. She flung herself uponhis breast, and throwing her arms about his neck said, "DearZenas, I knew you would;--I felt sure of it. Thank God I ThankGod!"

In loving communion the brother and sister sat, as Zenas told howhe could not bear the struggle between his conscience and hisstubborn will any longer. So, after doing his "chores" at thebarn, he went on, he had climbed into the hay-loft, resolved notto leave it till the conflict was over and he had theconsciousness of his acceptance with God and of the forgiveness ofhis sins. "I envied the very horses in the stalls, " he said, indescribing his emotions; "they were fulfilling their destiny; theyhad no burden of sin; while I was tortured with a damning sense ofguilt. I flung myself on the straw, " he went on; "and groaned inthe bitterness of my spirit, 'O wretched man that I am! who shalldeliver me from the body of this death. ' At that moment, " heexclaimed, "I seemed to hear spoken in my ears, the exultantanswer from the apostle: 'I thank God, through Jesus Christ ourLord. ' I sprang up, and before I knew began to sing--

 "''Tis done, the great transaction's done! I am my God's and He is mine. '"

Kate took up the refrain, and brother and sister sang together thejoyous song, --

 "O happy day! O happy day! When Jesus washed my sins away!"

We must turn now to the more stormy public events of the time. Preparations for the campaign of 1814 were made on both sides withunabated energy. The legislature of Lower Canada increased theissue of army bills to the amount of L1, 500, 000, and that of theupper province voted a liberal appropriation for militaryexpenditure, and increased the efficiency of the militia system. Stores of every kind, and in vast quantities, were forwarded fromQuebec and Montreal by brigades of sleighs to Kingston as a centreof distribution for western Canada. A deputation of Indian chiefsfrom the West was received at the castle of St. Louis, and senthome laden with presents and confirmed in their allegiance to theBritish. 

Early in the year, the Emperor of Russia offered to mediatebetween the belligerents in the interests of peace. Great Britaindeclined his interference, but proposed direct negotiations withthe United States. The commissioners appointed, however, did notmeet till August, and, meanwhile, the war became more deadly andmutually destructive than ever. 

The campaign opened in Lower Canada. General Wilkinson, who hadremoved his headquarters from Salmon River to Plattsburg, advancedwith five thousand men from the latter place, crossed the Canadianfrontier at Odelltown, and pushed on to Lacolle, about ten milesfrom the border. Here a large two-storey stone mill, witheighteen-inch walls, barricaded and loop-holed for musketry, washeld by the British who numbered, in regulars and militia, aboutfive hundred men, under the command of Major Handcock. Shortlyafter midday, on the 13th of March, General Wilkinson, with hisentire force, surrounded the mill, being partially covered byneighbouring woods, with the design of taking it by assault. Asthey advanced with a cheer to the attack, they were met by such ahot and steady fire that they were obliged to fall back to theshelter of the woods. The guns were now brought up (an eighteen, atwelve, and a six-pounder), for the purpose of battering, at shortrange, a breach in the walls of the mill. Their fire, however, wassingularly ineffective. The British sharpshooters picked off thegunners, so that it was exceedingly difficult to get the range orto fire the pieces. In a cannonade of two hours and a half, onlyfour shots struck the mill. Major Handcock, however, determined toattempt the capture of the guns, and a detachment of regulars, supported by a company of voltigeurs and fencibles, was ordered tocharge. In the face of desperate odds they twice advanced to theattack on the guns, but were repulsed by sheer weight of opposingnumbers. The day wore on. The ammunition of the beleagueredgarrison was almost exhausted. Yet no man spoke of surrender. Forfive hours this gallant band of five hundred men withstood an armyof tenfold numbers. At length, incapable of forcing the Britishposition, the enemy fell back, baffled and defeated, toPlattsburg, and for a time the tide of war ebbed away from thefrontier of Lower Canada. 

With the opening of navigation hostilities were resumed on LakeOntario. During the winter, two new vessels had been built atKingston. 

Strengthened by the addition of these, the British fleet, underthe command of Sir James Yeo, early in May, sailed for Oswego inorder to destroy a large quantity of naval stores there collected. A military force of a thousand men, under General Drummond, accompanied the expedition. An assaulting party of three hundredand forty soldiers and sailors, in the face of a heavy fire ofgrape, stormed the strong and well-defended fort. In half an hourit was in their hands. The fort and barracks were destroyed, andsome shipping, and an immense amount of stores were taken. 

Sir James Yeo, now blockaded Chauncey's fleet in Sackett'sHarbour. On the morning of the last day of May a flotilla ofsixteen barges, laden with naval stores, was discovered seekingrefuge amid the windings of Sandy Creek. A boat-party from thefleet, attempting pursuit, became entangled in the narrow creek, and was attacked by a strong force of the enemy, including twohundred Indians. After a desperate resistance, in which eighteenwere killed and fifty wounded, the British force was overpowered, and a hundred and forty made prisoners. These were with difficultysaved from massacre by the enraged Iroquois, by the vigorousinterposition of their generous captors. 

The course of political events in Europe intimately affected theconflict in America. Napoleon was now a prisoner in Elba, andEngland was enabled to throw greater vigour into her transatlanticwar. In the month of June, several regiments of the veteran troopsof Wellington landed at Quebec, and strong re-enforcements wererapidly despatched westward. 

The most sanguinary events of the campaign occurred on the Niagarafrontier. On the 3rd of July, Brigadier-Generals Scott and Ripley, with a force of four thousand men, crossed the Niagara River atBuffalo. Fort Erie was garrisoned by only a hundred and seventymen, and the commandant, considering that it would be a needlesseffusion of blood to oppose an army with his scanty forces, surrendered at discretion. The next day, General Brown, theAmerican Commander-in-Chief, advanced down the river to Chippewa. Here he was met by Major-General Riall, whose scanty force wasstrengthened by the opportune arrival of six hundred of the 3rdBuffs from Toronto, making his entire strength fifteen hundredregulars, six hundred militia, and three hundred Indians. Theengagement that ensued was one of extreme severity, a greaternumber of combatants being brought under fire than in any previousaction of the war. 

Instead of prudently remaining on the defensive, Riall, about fouro'clock on the afternoon of the fifth, boldly attacked the enemy, who had taken up a good position, partly covered by some buildingsand orchards, and were well supported by artillery. The battle wasfierce and bloody, but the Americans were well officered, andtheir steadiness in action gave evidence of improved drill. Afteran obstinate engagement and the exhibition of unavailing valour, the British were forced to retreat, with the heavy loss of ahundred and fifty killed and three hundred and twenty wounded, among whom was Lieutenant-Colonel the Marquis of Tweedall. Theloss of the Americans was seventy killed and two hundred and fiftywounded. Riall retired in good order without losing a man or gun, though pursued by the cavalry of the enemy. Having thrown re-enforcements into the forts at Niagara, on both sides of theriver, fearing lest his communication with the west should be cutoff by the Americana, Riall retreated to Twenty Mile Creek. General Brown advanced to Queenston Heights, ravaged the country, burned the village of St. David's, and made a reconnoissancetoward Niagara. Being disappointed in the promised co-operation ofChauncey's fleet in an attack on the forts at the mouth of theriver, he returned to Chippewa, followed again by Riall as far asLundy's Lane. In the meanwhile, General Drummond, hearing atKingston of the invasion, hastened with what troops he couldcollect to strengthen the British force on the frontier. ReachingNiagara on the 25th of July, he advanced with eight hundred mento support Riall. At the same time, he pushed forward a columnfrom Fort Niagara to Lewiston, to disperse a body of the enemycollected at that place. General Brown now advanced in force fromChippewa against the British position at Lundy's Lane. Riall wascompelled to fall back before the immensely superior Americanforce, and the head of his column was already on the way toQueenston. General Drummond coming up with his re-enforcementsabout five o'clock, countermanded the movement of retreat, andimmediately formed the order of battle. He occupied the gentlyswelling acclivity of Lundy's Lane, placing his guns in thecentre, on its crest. His entire force was sixteen hundred men, that of the enemy was five thousand. The attack began at sixo'clock in the evening, Drummond's troops having that hot July daymarched from Queenston landing. The American infantry madedesperate efforts in successive charges to capture the Britishbattery; but the gunners stuck to their pieces, and swept, with adeadly fire, the advancing lines of the enemy, till some of themwere bayoneted at their post. The carnage on both sides wasterrible. 

At length the long summer twilight closed, and the pitying nightdrew her veil over the horrors of the scene. Still, amid thedarkness, the stubborn contest raged. The American and Britishguns were almost muzzle to muzzle. Some of each were captured andre-captured in fierce hand-to-hand fights, the gunners beingbayoneted while serving their pieces. About nine o'clock, a lulloccurred. The moon rose upon the tragic scene, lighting up theghastly staring faces of the dead and the writhing forms of thedying; the groans of the wounded mingling awfully with the deepeternal roar of the neighbouring cataract. 

The retreating van of Riall's army now returned, with a body ofmilitia--twelve hundred in all. The Americans also brought upfresh reserves, and the combat was renewed with increased fury. Thin lines of fire, marked the position of the infantry, whilefrom the hot lips of the cannon flashed red volleys of flame, revealing in brief gleams the disordered ranks struggling in thegloom. By midnight, after six hours of mortal conflict, seventeenhundred men lay dead or wounded on the field, when the Americansabandoned the hopeless contest, their loss being nine hundred andthirty, besides three hundred taken prisoners. The British losswas seven hundred and seventy. To-day the peaceful wheat-fieldswave upon the sunny slopes fertilized by the bodies of so manybrave men, and the ploughshare upturns rusted bullets, regimentalbuttons, and other relics of this most sanguinary battle of thewar. Throwing their heavy baggage and tents into the rushingrapids of the Niagara, and breaking down the bridges behind them, the fugitives retreated to Fort Erie, where they formed anentrenched camp. [Footnote: Withrow's "History of Canada, " 8vo. Ed. , pp. 323-333. ]

We must now return to trace the individual adventures in thisbloody drama of the personages of our story. Every possibleprovision that wise foresight could suggest had been made for thedefence of the Niagara Frontier. Fort George had been strengthenedand revictualled. A new fort--Fort Mississauga--with star-shapedramparts, moat and stockade, had been constructed at the mouth ofthe river. Its citadel is a very solid structure, with walls eightfeet thick, built of the bricks of the devastated town of Niagara. A narrow portal with a double iron door admits one to the vaultedinterior of the citadel, and a stairway, constructed in thethickness of the wall, conducts to the second storey or platform, which is open to the sky. Here were formerly mounted several heavyguns, and the fire-place for heating the cannon-balls may still beseen. 

On the morning of July fourth, a courier, on a foam-flecked steed, dashed into Fort George and announced to the officer of the daythe startling intelligence of the invasion by the enemy in forceand the surrender of Fort Erie. Soon all was activity, knapsackswere packed, extra rations cooked and served out, ammunitionwaggons loaded, cartridge-boxes filled, and the whole garrison, except a small guard, were under orders to march to meet the enemyat dawn the following morning. 

That evening--the eve of the fatal fight at Chippewa--CaptainVilliers snatched an hour to pay a farewell visit to The Holms, ashad become his habit when ordered on active service. He seemedstrangely distraught in manner, at times relapsing for severalminutes into absolute silence. Before taking his leave, he askedKate to walk with him on the river bank in the late summer sunset. The lengthening shadows of the chestnuts stretched over thegreensward slopes, and were flung far out on the river which sweptby in its silent majesty, far-gleaming in the last rays of thesinking sun. The Captain spoke much and tenderly of his mother andsisters in their far-off Berkshire home. 

"I sometimes think, " he said, as they stood looking at the shiningreaches of the river, "that I shall never see them again; and to-night, I know not why, I seem to feel that presentiment morestrongly than ever. "

"We are all in the care, Captain Villiers, " said Kate, "of aloving Heavenly Father. Not even one of these twittering sparrowsfalls to the ground without His notice; and we, who are redeemedby the death of His Son, are of more value than they. "

"I wish I had your faith. Miss Drayton, " said the Captain with asigh. 

"I am sure I wish you had, Captain Villiers, " replied Kateearnestly. "I would not be without it, weak as it often is, forworlds. But you _may_ have it. You have the strongest groundsfor having it. But alas! I lived without it myself till veryrecently. "

"I have not been unobservant, Miss Drayton, " continued theCaptain, "of the--what shall I say?--the moral transfiguration ofyour character. It has been an argument as to the spiritualreality of religion that I could not gainsay. I have alwaysobserved its outward forms. I was duly baptized and confirmed, andhave regularly taken the sacrament. But I feel the need ofsomething more--something which I am sure my mother had, for ifthere ever was a saint on earth she is one. "

"I can only send you, " said Kate, "to the Great Teacher, who says'Come unto Me and I will give you rest. ' I am trying to sit at Hisfeet and learn of Him. _He_ will guide you into all truth. "

"Amen!" solemnly answered the young man. After a pause he wenton, "Miss Drayton, I make bold to ask a favour. Perhaps it may bea last one. Those hymns I have heard you sing come strangely hometo my own heart. They awaken yearnings I never felt, and revealtruths I never saw before. May I take the liberty of asking theloan of your hymn-book? Even my mother, with her horror ofdissent, would not object to the writings of so staunch aChurchman as the Rev. Charles Wesley. "

"If you will do me the favour to accept it, I shall be most happyto give it you, " replied Kate. "May it be a great help to you asit has been to me. "

"You greatly honour me by your kindness, " said the Captain. Drawing his small gold-clasped Prayer Book, on which was engravenhis crest--a cross raguled with a wyvern volant--from thebreast-pocket of his coat, he said, "Will you do me the furtherhonour of accepting this book. The prayers I know by heart, and Ithink that, even though a dissenter, " he added with a smile, "youwill admire them. "

"Thanks. I do admire them, very much, " said Kate, who was quitefamiliar with the beautiful service of her father's Church. 

The Captain stooped as they were walking through the littlegarden, which they had now reached, and plucking a few leaves andflowers, placed them in the book, saying in the words of the fairdistraught Ophelia, --

 "There is rosemary, that's for rememberance; And there is pansies, that's for thoughts. "

Then placing the hook in her hand with a reverent respect, heraised her fingers to his lips. In a moment more he had vaulted onhis steed, which stood champing its bit at the garden gate and wassoon out of sight. 

As, in the deepening twilight, Kate watched his retreating form, afeeling of vague apprehension, of she knew not what, filled hergentle breast. Was it a premonition of his impending doom?--aprescience that she should never behold him again. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE TRAGEDY OF WAR. 

With the early dawn, Zenas rode off to join his militia company;which was summoned to repel the invasion. Loker and McKay werealready in the field. They were all in the severe action atChippewa. Captain Villiers distinguished himself by his heroicdaring, and while heading a gallant charge, whereby he covered theretreat of the British, received a rather severe bayonet thrust inhis leg. Binding his military scarf around the wound, he remainedin his saddle till night, performing the arduous duties ofcommander of the rear-guard. 

The three weeks following were weeks of toilsome marching andcounter-marching beneath the burning July sun. More than onceZenas was within an hour's ride of home; but the pressingexigencies of a soldier's life prevented his making even a passingcall on those whom he so much loved. He was forced to contenthimself with messages sent through Neville Trueman, whose sacredcalling made him free of the lines of both armies. These messageswere full of praise and admiration of the gallant CaptainVilliers; and, accompanied by no stinted praise of his own, theywere faithfully delivered by the young preacher. 

"He will be Colonel before the war is over, I expect, " saidNeville, "and I am sure no man deserves it better. He is as gentleas he is brave. His treatment of the prisoners is kindnessitself. "

The Captain, although once at Fort George, commanding a re-enforcement of the garrison, was prevented by his military dutiesfrom riding the short three miles that lay between it and TheHolms. 

One day toward the latter part of July, --it was the twenty-fifthof the month, a day for ever memorable in the annals of Canada, --early in the morning a convoy of schooners and barges, filled witharmed men, was seen by Katharine gliding up the Niagara River, their snowy sails gleaming beyond the fringe of chestnuts thatbordered the stream. The Union Jack floating gaily at the peak, and the inspiring strains of "Britannia Rules the Waves" swellingon the breeze as the fleet approached, gave the assurance ofwelcome re-enforcements to the struggling army in the field. Running down to the bank, Katharine exultantly waved herhandkerchief in welcome. The redcoats, who thronged the bulwarks, gave a rousing cheer in reply; and an officer in gold lace, witha white plume in his General's hat--who was no other than SirGeorge Gordon Drummond himself--gaily waved his handkerchief inreturn. 

And right welcome those re-enforcements were that day. Disembarking at Queenston landing, and climbing the steep hill, they marched through smiling orchards and green country roads tothe bloody field of Lundy's Lane, where many of them ended life'smarch for ever. 

We shall depend for the further record of that eventful day on thenarrative of Zenas, as subsequently reported, with all the vividtouches of personal experience and eye-witness. With bandaged headand one arm in a sling he sat at the kitchen table at The Holms, explaining to his father and some neighbours the fortunes of thefight. His story, disentangled from the interruptions of hisauditors, was as follows: "You see, " he said, making a rudediagram of the battle on the supper-table with the knives andforks, "General Riall took up a strong position on Lundy's Laneearly in the day, with the regulars and the Glengary militia; andLieutenant-Colonel Robinson [Footnote: Subsequently better knownas Sir John Beverly Robinson, Chief Justice of Upper Canada. ]commanded the sedentary militia. The enemy lay on the other sideof Chippewa Creek, and didn't move till late in the afternoon. Ifthey had come on in the morning, they could have crushed us likean egg-shell, " and he suited the action to the word, by crushinginto fragments one that lay upon the table. 

"But we got it hard enough as it was. General Winfield Scott, [Footnote: Afterwards Commander-in-chief of the United Statesarmies. ] began pounding away at us with his artillery just beforesundown. We expected to be re-enforced before long, so wedetermined to hold the hill where our own battery was planted atany cost. The sun went down; it got darker and darker; still thecannon flashed their tongues of flame, and the deadly rattle ofthe musketry went on without a minute's pause for three mortalhours. The Yankee sharp-shooters crept up in the darkness behind ascreen of barberry bushes growing in the panels of a rail fence, and at a volley picked off all the gunners of our battery butthree. Then, with a cheer, they rushed forward with the bayonet, and wrestled in fierce hand-to-hand fight with our infantry forthe guns, which were alternately taken and re-taken on eitherside, till the hill-slope was slippery with blood. 

"Our troop of dragoons was ordered to charge up the hill and re-capture the guns. I had only time to lift up my heart in prayer, and say 'Lord have mercy upon us, ' when a roundshot struck myhorse. He reared straight up and fell backward, partly fallingupon me. All at once everything got black, and I heard not a soundof the din of battle that was raging around me. After a while, Idon't know how long, it seemed like hours, I became aware of adeep thunderous sound that seemed to fill the air and cause thevery earth to tremble, and I knew it was the roar of the Falls. Then I felt an intolerable aching, as if every bone in my body wasbroken. I opened my eyes and saw the moon shining through thedrifting clouds. I was parched with thirst and raging with fever, and felt a sharp pain piercing my temple. Raising my arm to myhead, I found my hair all clotted with blood from a scalp wound. 

"Just then I heard a rattle and a cheer, and galloping down hillfull in the moonlight, right toward the spot where I lay, a brassfield-gun fully horsed, the drivers lashing the horses with alltheir might. I was afraid they would gallop over me, and raised myarm to warn them aside. But they either didn't see or couldn'theed, and on came the heavy cannon, lurching from side to side, the polished brass gleaming in the moonlight like gold. I heard adeep shuddering groan as the heavy wheels rolled over a woundedman beside me, crushing the bones of his legs like pipe stems. Asthe plunging horses galloped past, one iron-shod hoof struck fireagainst a stone just beside my head. In the momentary flash Icould see the hoof poised just above my face. I remember I noticedthat it had been badly shod, and one of the nails was bent overthe edge of the shoe. By a merciful Providence, instead of dashingmy brains out he stepped on one side, and I received no furtherhurt. After the roar of the battle had ceased, while the solemnstars looked down like eyes of pitying angels on the field ofslaughter, I managed to crawl to the road-side and wet my parchedlips with some muddy water that lay in a cattle track. In themorning Trueman found me and brought me off the field, and here Iam laid up for one while. I pray God I may never see anotherbattle. It is a sight to make angels weep and devils rejoice, tosee men thus mangling each other like beasts of prey. "

"Amen!" said his father. "Even when it is just, war is thegreatest of calamities; and when unjust, it is the greatest ofcrimes. "

Sadder still was the story told by Neville Trueman to KatharineDrayton, as he conveyed to her the dying message of CaptainVilliers. The Captain was gallantly cheering on his company, whena bullet pierced his lungs. He fell from his horse and was bore tothe rear, and carried into the little Methodist Church, which hadbeen turned into a temporary hospital. Here Neville Trueman wasbusily engaged in far different ministrations from those whichwere the wont of that consecrated spot. The seats had beenremoved, and beds of unthrashed wheat sheaves from theneighbouring harvest-fields were strewn upon the floor. 

As the bleeding form of Captain Villiers was brought in, Nevillesaw by his deathly pallor and his laboured breathing that he hadnot many hours to live. He sat down beside him on the floor andtook the hand of the dying man, which he softly caressed as it laypassive in his grasp. Opening his eyes, a wan smile of recognitionflickered over the pallid countenance. He tried to speak, but invain. Then he pointed to his breast pocket, and made signs whichNeville interpreted as a wish that he should take something out. He obeyed the suggestion, and found the copy of Wesley's Hymnsgiven him by Katharine Drayton, but now, alas! dyed with the life-blood of a loyal heart. 

"Tell her, " said the dying man, but he faltered in his speech. Then, with difficulty opening the book, he turned to a passagewhere the leaf was turned down and a hymn was marked with theletters "H. V. , " the initials of Herbert Villiers. The hymn wasthat sublime one beginning--

 "Now I have found the ground wherein Sure my soul's anchor may remain:

 The wounds of Jesus, for my sin Before the world's foundation slain; Whose mercy shall unshaken stay, When heaven and earth are fled away. "

The dying eyes looked eagerly at Neville as the latter read thewords; but when he replied, "Yes, I will tell her, and give herhack her book enriched with such a sacred recollection, " a look ofinfinite content rested on the pallid face. 

"I bless God I ever met her, " faltered the failing voice. "Tellher, " it continued with a final effort, "Tell her--we shall meetagain--where they neither marry--nor are given in marriage--butare as the angels of God in heaven!" And with a smile of ineffablepeace the happy spirit departed from the carnage of earth'sbattles to the everlasting peace of the skies. 

Tears of pity fell fast from the eyes of the tender-heartedKatharine as she listened to the touching narration. As soon asshe could sufficiently command her feelings she wrote asympathetic letter to the now doubly-bereaved widow of the statelyMelton Hall, amid the broad ancestral acres of Berkshire. Sheenclosed therewith the jewelled cross, which had been committed toher keeping; but the blood-stained hymn-book she placed in herlittle cabinet, beside the Prayer-Book with its leaves of rosemaryfor remembrance and pansies for thoughts. 

The fellow-officers of Captain Villiers erected over the grave inwhich their comrade was buried, beneath the walls of the humbleMethodist Church, a marble slab commemorating his valour and hisheroic death. With the lapse of five-and-sixty years, however, itsbrief inscription has become well nigh illegible through theweathering of the elements, and the grave has becomeindistinguishable from the mouldering mounds on every side aroundit. But beneath the funeral hatchment of his father, on thechancel walls of Melton-Mowbray Church, is a marble shield chargedwith a cross enguled and a wyvern volant; and a record of theuntimely death of the hope and last scion of the house on thebanks of the far-off Niagara. 

CHAPTER XX

CLOSING SCENES OF THE WAR. 

We return now to retrace the fortunes of the war of which theculminating acts, at least in Upper Canada, had now taken place. After the fatal fight of Lundy's Lane, as we have seen, theAmerican force retreated precipitately on Fort Erie, of which theyretained possession, and, working night and day, formed anentrenched camp for their protection, strengthening a line ofabattis along the front. The victorious British columns closelyfollowed, and for three weeks the camp and fort occupied by theAmerican army were closely besieged by a force only two-thirds asnumerous. Two American armed vessels, which supported the fort onthe lake side, were very cleverly captured in a night attack byCaptain Dobbs, of the Royal Navy, by means of boats conveyed bysheer force of human muscles twenty miles across the country inthe rear of the American lines, from the Niagara to Lake Erie. 

The British forces also threw up strong entrenchments and plantedbatteries; and the two armies lay watching each other likecouchant lions, waiting the opportunity to make the fatalspring. The guns on the batteries were kept double shotted, andthrough the long nights dark lanterns were kept burning, andlinstocks ready for firing lay beside every gun. Ever and anon alive shell screamed through the air, one of which penetrating anAmerican magazine, caused it to explode with fearful violence. 

On the 14th of August, after a vigorous bombardment, a nightattack, in three columns, was made upon the fort. At two o'clockin the morning, the columns moved out of the trenches, with theutmost silence, bearing scaling ladders, and crept stealthily overthe plain toward the apparently slumbering fort. Dark clouds hunglow, and the only sounds heard were the melancholy cry of the loonand the measured dash of the waves upon the shore. At length theAmerican picket discovered the approach of the British columns andgave the alarm. The bugles rang shrill in the ear of night. Everyembrasure of the seemingly sleeping fort flashed forth its tongueof flame, revealing the position of the assailants, and the gloomsettled heavier than ever, deepened still further by thesulphureous clouds of smoke from the cannon. The British vanhacked with their swords at the abattis, and tried, by wadingthrough a marsh, to enter the curtain of the fore by a flankmovement. Rent and torn by a fire of canister and grape, fivetimes the assailing columns were hurled back, and five times, undaunted, they returned to the charge. 

At length the wall was reached, the ladders were planted, andLieutenant-Colonel Drummond, with a hundred men of the RoyalArtillery, gained a footing in a bastion. The parole by whichthey recognized each other in the dark was "steel"--an omen ofthe desperate means used to insure their victory. With pike andbayonet they rushed upon the garrison. Their comrades swarmed upthe scaling ladders and filled the bastion. Suddenly the groundheaved and trembled as with the throes of an earthquake. Therecame a burst of thunder sound; a volcano of fire and timber;stones and living men were hurled two hundred feet in the air;and the night settled down on the scene of chaos. The Britishcolumns, utterly demoralized by this appalling disaster, fell backprecipitately on their entrenchments, leaving the mangled bodiesof two hundred of their comrades, among them the gallant leader, Lieutenant-Colonel Drummond, in the fatal fosse and bastion. 

The Americans, being strongly re-enforced, a month later made avigorous sally from the fort, but were driven back, with a losson the part of both assailants and assailed of about four hundredmen. Shortly after, General Izzard blew up the works and re-crossed the river to United States territory. The fortress, constructed at such a cost, and assailed and defended with suchvalour, soon fell to utter ruin. Where earth-shaking war achievedsuch vast exploits, to-day the peaceful waters of the placid lakekiss the deserted strand, and a few grass-grown and moulderingram-mounds alone mark the grave of so much military pomp, power, and unavailing valour. [Footnote: Engravings of these are givenin Lossing's "Field Book of the War. "]

Nor were the ravages of the war confined alone to the Niagarafrontier. Far otherwise. They extended from the upper waters ofthe Mississippi to the Atlantic seaboard, and to the Gulf ofMexico. In the West, Michilimackinac was re-enforced, and Prairiedu Chien, a fort on the Mississippi, was captured by a body of sixhundred and fifty Canadians and Indians, without the loss of asingle man. An American attempt to recapture Michilimackinac, by aforce of a thousand men, was a total failure, the only exploit ofthe expedition being the inglorious pillage and destruction of theundefended trading-post of Ste. Marie. 

Meanwhile, Sir John Sherbrooke, the Governor of Nova Scotia, despatched several hostile expeditions from Halifax against thecoast of Maine. 

Eastport, Castine, Bangor, Machias, and the whole region from thePenobscot to the St. Croix, surrendered to the British, and wereheld by them to the close of the war. 

The arrival, in August, of sixteen thousand of Wellington'sPeninsular troops, the heroes of so many Spanish victories, placedat the command of Sir George Prevost the means of vigorouslyundertaking offensive operations. A well-appointed force of eleventhousand men advanced from Canada to Lake Champlain. CaptainDownie, with a fleet on which the ship carpenters were still atwork as he went into action, was to co-operate with the army in anattack on Plattsburg, which was defended by five well-armedvessels and by fifteen hundred regulars and as many militia, underGeneral Macomb. The British fleet gallantly attacked the enemy, but after a desperate battle, in which Captain Downie was slain, and nine of the ill-manned gunboats fled, it was compelled tosurrender to a superior force. Prevost, notwithstanding that hisstrength was ten times greater than that of the enemy, had awaitedthe assistance of the fleet. As he tardily advanced his stormingcolumns, the cheers from the fort announced its capture. Althoughon the verge of an easy victory, Prevost, fearing the fate ofBurgoyne, and humanely averse to the shedding of blood, to theintense chagrin of his soldiers gave the signal to retreat. Manyof his officers for very shame broke their swords, and vowed thatthey would never serve again. While an able civil governor, Prevost was an incompetent military commander. He was summonedhome by the Horse Guards to stand a court-martial, but he died thefollowing year, before the court sat. 

The launch at Kingston of the "St. Lawrence, " an "oak leviathan"of a hundred guns, gave the British complete naval supremacy ofLake Ontario, and enabled them strongly to re-enforce GeneralDrummond with troops and stores. 

We will now trace very briefly the further events of the war, which lay altogether outside of Canada. Along the Atlanticseaboard the British maintained a harassing blockade. The close ofthe Continental war enabled Great Britain to throw more vigourinto the conflict with the United States. Her giant navy was, therefore, free from service in European waters, and AdmiralCockburn, with a fleet of fifty vessels, about the middle ofAugust, arrived in Chesapeake Bay with troops destined for theattack on the American capital. Tangier Island was seized andfortified, and fifteen hundred negroes of the neighbouringplantations were armed and drilled for military service. Theyproved useful but very costly allies, as, at the conclusion of thewar, the Emperor of Russia, who was the referee in the matter, awarded their owners an indemnity of a million and a quarter ofdollars, or over eight hundred dollars each for raw recruits fora six weeks' campaign. 

There are two rivers by which Washington may be approached--thePotomac, on which it is situated, and the Patuxent, which flows inits rear. The British commander chose the latter, both on accountof the facility of access, and for the purpose of destroying thepowerful fleet of gunboats which had taken refuge in its creeks. This object was successfully accomplished on the 20th of August--thirteen of the gunboats being destroyed and one captured, together with fourteen merchant vessels. The army, under thecommand of General Ross, on the following day disembarked. Itnumbered, including some marines, three thousand five hundred men, with two hundred sailors to drag the guns--two small three-pounders. 

For the defence of Washington, General Winder had been assigned aforce of sixteen thousand six hundred regulars, and a levy ofninety-three thousand militia had been ordered. Of the latter, notone appeared; of the former, only about one-half mustered. TheAmericans had, however, twenty-six guns against two small piecespossessed by the British. General Winder took post at Bladensburg, a few miles from Washington. His batteries commanded the onlybridge across the East Potomac. Ross determined to storm thebridge in two columns. Not for a moment did the war-bronzedveterans of the Peninsular war hesitate. Amid a storm of shot andshell, they dashed across the bridge, carried a fortified house, and charged on the batteries before the second column could cometo their aid. Ten guns were captured. The American army wasutterly routed, and fled through and beyond the city it was todefend. The lack of cavalry and the intense heat of the dayprevented the pursuit by the British. The brilliant action wassaddened to the victors by the loss of sixty-one gallant men slainand one hundred and eighty-five wounded. 

Towards evening the victorious army occupied the city. Thedestruction of the public buildings had been decreed, inretaliation for the pillage of Toronto and the wanton burning ofNiagara. An offer was made to the American authorities to accept amoney payment by way of ransom, but it was refused. The next day, the torch was ruthlessly applied to the Capitol, with its valuablelibrary, the President's house, treasury, war office, arsenal, dockyard, and the long bridge across the Potomac. The enemy hadalready destroyed a fine frigate, a twenty-gun sloop, twentythousand stand of arms, and immense magazines of powder. Even ifjustifiable as a military retaliation, this act was unworthy of agreat and generous nation. 

The town of Alexandria was saved from destruction only by thesurrender of twenty-one vessels, sixteen hundred barrels of flour, and a thousand hogsheads of tobacco. 

The city of Baltimore redeemed itself more bravely. Against thatplace General Ross now proceeded with his army and the fleet. Inattacking the enemy's outposts, General Ross was slain, and thecommand devolved on Colonel Brooke. Six thousand infantry, fourhundred horse, and four guns, protected by a wooden palisade, disputed the passage of the British. With a shout and a cheerWellington's veterans attacked the obstructions, and, in fifteenminutes, were masters of the field. The American army fled, leaving behind them six hundred killed or wounded, and threehundred prisoners, September 13. The next morning, the Britishwere within a mile and a half of Baltimore, but they found fifteenthousand men, with a large train of artillery, in possession ofthe heights commanding the city. Colonel Brooke, not willing toincur the risk of attacking in daylight, with three thousand men, a fivefold number, resolved on attempting a surprise by night. Helearned, however, that the enemy, by sinking twenty vessels in theriver, had prevented all naval co-operation. The inevitable lossof life in an assault far counter-balancing any prospectiveadvantage, Brooke wisely abandoned the design, and withdrewunmolested to his ships. 

The fleet and army which had been baffled at Baltimore sailed forNew Orleans, with the object of capturing the chief cotton port ofthe United States, then a city of seventeen thousand inhabitants. The fleet arrived off the mouth of the Mississippi on the 8th ofDecember. It was opposed by a flotilla of gunboats, but they wereall soon captured and destroyed. Amid very great difficulties andhardships, resulting from the severity of the weather and thewretched condition of the roads, the army under General Packenhamadvanced to within six miles of New Orleans. Here General Jackson, the American commander, had constructed a deep ditch and anentrenchment of earthworks, strengthened by sand-bags and cotton-bales, a thousand yards long, stretching from the Mississippi toan impassable swamp in the rear. Flanking batteries enfiladed thefront. Behind these formidable works was posted an army of twelvethousand men. 

Packenham resolved to send Colonel Thornton, with fourteen hundredmen, across the river by night, to storm a battery which swept thefront of the earthworks, and to menace the city of New Orleans. Atthe same time, the main attack was to be made on Jackson's lines, in two columns, under Generals Gibbs and Keane. Packenham hadonly six thousand men, including seamen and marines, "to attacktwice the number, entrenched to the teeth in works bristling withbayonets and loaded with heavy artillery. " [Footnote: Allison's"History of Europe, " Chap. Lxxvi. , American ed. , vol. Iv. , p. 480. ] The rapid fall of the river retarded the crossing of thetroops, and prevented a simultaneous attack on the right and leftbanks. 

Impatient at the delay, Packenham ordered the assault on Jackson'slines, January 6, 1815; the columns moved steadily forward, butthe dawn of day revealed their approach, and they were met by aconcentrated and murderous fire from the batteries. Withoutflinching, they advanced to the ditch, when it was found that thefascines and scaling-ladders had been forgotten. The head of thecolumn, thus brought to a halt under the enemy's guns, was crushedby the tremendous fire. Packenham now fell mortally wounded, andGenerals Gibbs and Keane were shortly after struck down. 

The gallant Ninety-third Highlanders, however, undaunted by thecarnage, rushed forward, and many of them fairly climbed their wayinto the works, mounting on each other's shoulders. But their rashvalour brought upon them the concentrated fire of grape, by whichthe successful assailants were cut down to a man. GeneralLambert, on whom the command now devolved, finding it impossibleto carry the works, and the slaughter being appalling, drew offhis troops. In this sanguinary repulse, the British lost twothousand men killed, wounded, and prisoners. The Americans claimthat their loss was only eight killed and thirteen wounded. 

Meanwhile, Colonel Thornton, on the left bank of the river, hadachieved a brilliant success. With only one-third of his command, or less than five hundred men, he had stormed a redoubt of twentyguns, defended by seventeen hundred men. The defeat of the mainbody, however, rendered the position untenable. Lambertsuccessfully retreated to his ships, bringing off all his stores, ammunition, and field artillery. On the 27th the army re-embarked, and found a partial consolation for its defeat in the capture ofFort Boyer, a strong fortification at the mouth of the river. 

Peace had already been concluded at Ghent on the 24th of December, and was hailed with delight by the kindred peoples, wearied withmutual and unavailing slaughter. The calm verdict of history findsmuch ground of extenuation for the revolt of 1776; but for theAmerican declaration of war in 1812, little or none. A recklessDemocratic majority wantonly invaded the country of anunoffending neighbouring people, to seduce them from their lawfulallegiance and annex their territory. The long and costly conflictwas alike bloody and barren. The Americans annexed not a singlefoot of territory. They gained not a single permanent advantage. Their seaboard was insulted, their capital destroyed. Their annualexports were reduced from L22, 000, 000 to L1, 500, 000. Threethousand of their vessels were captured. Two-thirds of theircommercial class became insolvent A vast war-tax was incurred, andthe very existence of the Union imperilled by the menacedsecession of the New England States. The "right of search" and therights of neutrals--the ostensible but not the real causes of thewar--were not even mentioned in the treaty of peace. Theadjustment of unsettled boundaries was referred to a commission, and an agreement was made for a combined effort for thesuppression of the slave-trade. The United States, however, continued its internal slave-traffic, of a character even moreobnoxious than that which it engaged to suppress. 

On Canada, too, the burden of the war fell heavily. Great Britain, exhausted by nearly twenty years of conflict, and still engaged ina strenuous struggle against the European despot, Napoleon, couldonly, till near the close of the war, furnish scanty military aid. It was Canadian militia, with little help from British regulars, who won the brilliant victories of Chrysler's Farm andChateauguay; and throughout the entire conflict they were theprincipal defence of their country. In many a Canadian home, bitter tears were shed for son or sire left cold and stark uponthe bloody plain at Queenston Heights, or Chippewa, or Lundy'sLane, or other hard-fought field of battle. 

The lavish expenditure of the Imperial authorities, for ship-building, transport service, and army supplies, and the freecirculation of the paper money issued by the Canadian Government, greatly stimulated the material prosperity of thecountry. [Footnote: The paper money of the United States was notredeemed till it had greatly depreciated in value, to the oftenruinous loss of the holders. ] Its peaceful industries, agriculture, and the legitimate development of its naturalresources, however, were very much interrupted, and vast amountsof public and private property were relentlessly confiscated ordestroyed by the enemy. [Footnote: See Withrow's "History ofCanada;" 8vo. Ed. , pp. , 234-340. ]

CHAPTER XXI. 

CLOSING SCENES. 

After the stubborn and sanguinary battles of Chippewa, Lundy'sLane, and Fort Erie, the Niagara frontier had exemption frominvasion, and a sort of armed truce prevailed to the end of thewar. It was long, however, before the exasperation of feelingexcited on either side by the unhappy conflict had died away. Now, thank God, the ameliorating influence of time, of commercialintercourse, and, let us hope, of Christian amity, has almostentirely obliterated the bitter memories of that unnatural strife. A continual exchange of international courtesies and friendlyamenities, marks the intercourse of the kindred peoples who dwellupon opposite sides of the Niagara River. At the narrowest part ofthat river, two miles below the Falls, it is now spanned by thefairy-like railway Suspension Bridge--a life-artery along whichthrobs a ceaseless pulse of commerce between the Dominion ofCanada and the United States of America, the two fairest andnoblest daughters of brave Old England, the great mother ofnations. As the deep and gloomy gorge beneath that bridge, withits wrathful and tumultuous torrent, seemed to forbid allintercourse between its opposite banks, so, unhappily, a deep andgloomy chasm has too long yawned between these neighbouringpeoples, through which has raged a brawling torrent ofestrangement, bitterness, and even of fratricidal strife. But aswire by wire that wondrous bridge was woven between the twocountries, so social, religious, and commercial intercourse hasbeen weaving subtile cords of fellowship between the adjacentcommunities; and now, let us hope, by the late Treaty ofWashington, a golden bridge of amity and peace has spanned thegulf, and made them one in brotherhood for ever. As treasonagainst humanity is that spirit to be deprecated that would severone strand of those ties of friendship, or stir up strife betweentwo great nations of one blood, one faith, one tongue. May thispeaceful arbitration be the inauguration of the happy era told bythe poet and seer, "When the war-drum throbs no longer, and the battle-flags are furled

 In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world!"

While musing on this theme, the following fancies wove themselvesinto verse, in whose aspiration all true patriots of either landwill devoutly join:

 As the great bridge which spans Niagara'a flood Was deftly woven, subtile strand by strand Into a strong and stable iron band, Which heaviest stress and strain has long withstood; So the bright golden strands of friendship strong, Knitting the Mother and the Daughter land In bonds of love--as grasp of kindly hand May bind together hearts estranged long-- Is deftly woven now, in that firm gage Of mutual plight and troth, which, let us pray, May still endure unshamed from age to age-- The pledge of peace and concord true alway: Perish the hand and palsied be the arm That would one fibre of that fabric harm!

Neville Trueman held on the even tenor of his way, through theperiod during which the tide of war was ebbing away on theAtlantic coast and on the lower Mississippi. Notwithstanding thetried and true character of his loyalty, he was not free fromungenerous and unjust aspersions by those prejudiced and bigotedagainst his American birth. He had, however, one friend who neverswerved from her generous admiration of his character and respectfor his conduct. Katharine Drayton never failed to defend both theone and the other when unkindly criticised in her presence. Yet tohimself she was, while uniformly kind and courteous, yet unusuallyreserved in the expression of her personal feelings. The words ofhigh appreciation which were spoken, in his defence to others, andwhich would to him have been a guerdon compensating a hundredfoldall his trials and troubles, were to him unuttered. A sense ofmaiden modesty, if not a deeper and tenderer feeling, sealed herlips and made her, on this subject, dumb in his presence. 

If the enthusiastic friendship of her brother could have madeamends for this reserve Neville had, indeed, ample compensation. Nevertheless a sense of loneliness and isolation were at timesoppressively felt by the young man. Almost unconsciously tohimself the character and person of Katharine Drayton had becometo him very dear. They occupied much of his thought, and mingledeven with his morning and evening orisons. Yet he sedulouslyavoided giving expression, even to himself, to his desires andaspirations. The sad uncertainties of the times forbade thethought of marrying or giving in marriage. His own anomalousposition as having, apparently, an allegiance divided between thetwo countries unhappily at war, was also felt to be a greatembarrassment in all his personal relations. Above all he was notwithout the apprehension that the heart of Katharine Drayton mighthave been won by the brave soldier whose untimely death shedeplored with a sorrow deep and unfeigned. Her laceratedaffections he felt to be too tender and too sacred a subject to belightly approached. Moreover, what had he, a poor Methodistitinerant, without a home, without a country, dependent for hisdaily food and nightly shelter upon the Providence of God and thegenerosity of an alien people, themselves impoverished by a longand cruel conflict with his own countrymen, to offer in exchangefor her love! For himself he had no fears, no forebodings for thefuture, no feeling of humiliation in accepting the generoushospitality of his kind congregations. But, he questioned, howcould he ask the delicately-nurtured Katharine Drayton, theheiress of many acres, whose lightest wish had been gladlygratified by loving hands, --how could he ask her to leave thesheltering roof and cheerful hearth, where she reigned a queen, toshare the privations, discomforts, and it might be poverty, of hismigratory existence? The question smote with appalling emphasisupon his heart. So he continued to nourish in his soul a vaguehope, menaced by a vague fear that sorely tried his courage andhis faith. 

Meanwhile the fratricidal strife between the kindred nations cameto an end--never, let us hope, while the world stands, to berenewed. The Treaty of Paris brought repose to the two war-weariedpeople. The Angel of Peace waved her branch of olive over theravaged fields and desolated homes, and the kindly hand of Natureveiled with her gentle ministries the devastations of war. Oneevening, in the leafy month of June, shortly after the tidings ofthe peace had arrived, Neville Trueman was walking with MissDrayton on the banks of the noble river where, three years before, he had gazed upon the summer sunset and sung the song of Jerusalemthe Golden. They had been on a visit of charity to a sick memberof Neville's flock, and were now returning through the after-glowof a golden sunset. The breath of the peach and apple blossomsfilled the air with fragrance, and their pink and white bloomclothed the orchard trees with beauty. Swift swallows clove withtheir scythe-like wings the sky, and skimmed the surface of thedimpling wave, and the whip-poor-will's plaint of tendermelancholy was borne faintly on the breeze. At a point of vantagecommanding a broad view of the river, which, wimpling anddimpling in its beauty, flowed, a sapphire set in emerald, between its verdurous banks, Kate stood to gaze upon the lovelyscene--fair as the storied Bay of Naples or the far-famed Rivieraof Genoa. 

"It was here, " she said, as she gazed wistfully at the settingsun, "that I had my last conversation with Captain Villiers, andan eventful conversation it was, " and a tear glistened in her eyesas she remembered his parting words. 

Neville listened in an embarrassed manner. 

He thought that she referred to a declaration of his passion, soknowing not what reply to make he kept silent. 

"I believe, " continued Kate, "that that conversation had a veryimportant influence, under God, on his destiny. "

"His life, " said Neville, "was unfortunately too short for him toenjoy his happiness. "

"True, " replied Kate; "but all the sooner he reached itsconsummation. "

"How do you mean? I do not understand, " said Neville, in abewildered manner. "You would have been married had he lived. "

"Married! Who spoke of marriage?" exclaimed Kate, flushing rosyred over brow and cheek, as she turned with an air and tone ofsurprise to her companion. 

"Pardon me, I thought you were engaged, " said Neville. "I havegrounds to know that he cherished a deep devotion for you. "

"He never declared it, then, " replied Kate; "and I am glad he didnot. I had a great esteem and respect for Captain Villiers, but Icould not have given him my hand. "

"Could not!" exclaimed Neville, in a dazed sort of manner. "ThenI have been under a great mistake, " and he walked on for a fewminutes in silence. 

"Miss Drayton, " he said, after a pause, impelledby a sudden impulse and determined to know his fate, "I have longhonoured and revered your character and person. This feeling hasgrown into a deep and ardent affection. Dare I hope that it isreciprocated? May I ask you to share the trials and, thank God, the triumphs of a Methodist preacher's life?" and he clasped herhand earnestly. 

"Mr. Trueman, " she faltered--but she withdrew not her hand--then, in a tenderer tone, "Neville, let me say, my heart has long beenyours. Did you not know it? I fear not the trials if I may sharethe joys of service for the Master by your side, " and she franklyplaced her other hand in his. 

Soft as fall the dews at even fell the holy kiss that sealed theplighted vows of these two young and loving hearts. Long they satthere on a mossy trunk beside the river's brink, in the goldentwilight, beguiling the flying moments with sacred lovers' talk--to which it were sacrilege to listen and a crime to coldly report. At length, in the soft light of the crescent moon, they sauntered, she leaning confidingly upon his arm, slowly up the garden alleybetween the sweet June roses, breathing forth their souls infragrance on the summer air. 

Plucking a rich red rose, Neville placed it in her hair, saying, "So may the immortal roses that the angel brought to St. Cecilia--the virtues and the graces of the bride of Christ--bloomforever in your garland of beauty and crown of rejoicing. "

Then she, glowing with fairer loveliness beneath his fond caress, plucked a white rose from its stem and fastened it upon his breastwith the words, "So, O beloved, wear thou the white flower ofblameless life, breathing the fragrance of purity and holinessthroughout the world. "

Arm in arm the lovers passed on to the house and into the presenceof the squire, who sat beneath the grape vine of the broad piazzaenjoying his evening pipe. 

"Squire Drayton, " said Neville, in a tone of manly confidence, "Ihave come to ask your daughter's hand in marriage, " and he put hisarm protectingly around her, as she stood blushing at his side. 

"Well, young man, " said the old gentleman, taking his long"churchwarden" pipe from his mouth, "you ask that as coolly asthough girls like Kate grew as plentifully as the grape clusterson this vine. There's not a man living good enough for my Kate--I'd have you know. "

"I quite agree with you in that, squire, " said the young man. "Somuch the greater my prize in winning her affection. "

"I believe you have, my lad, " said the old man, relenting, andthen went on with a good deal of natural pathos, "An old thornlike me can't expect to keep such a sweet rose ungathered on itsstem. Take her, Neville. Love and cherish her as you would haveGod be good to you. Kiss me, Kate. You must still keep room inyour heart for your poor old father. Ton have been my greatestsolace since your mother died. Be as good a wife as you have beena daughter, and God's blessing on you both. "

Kate flung her arms around her father's neck and covered his browand cheek with kisses. And Neville, taking his hand, saidsolemnly, "God do so to me and more also, if I cherish not yourdaughter as my life; if I cherish her not as Christ loved HisBride the Church, and gave Himself for it. "

"I have one regret, " said Neville, sometime afterward, when Katehad gone out of the room, "and that is, that I have not brighterworldly prospects and more assured support to offer Kate. "

"The time has been, my son, " said the squire, adopting him at onceinto the family, "when I would have thought so too; when I wouldhave sought, as conditions for her future, --position, wealth, andease. But I have lived to see that these are not the greatessentials of life, that these alone cannot give happiness. Withtrue love and God's blessing you can never be poor. Without these, though you roll in riches, you are poor indeed. Not but that itwould grieve me to see Kate want, as many a preacher's wife whom Ihave known has wanted. But by God's goodness I am able to secureher against that, and to do so shall be the greatest pleasure ofmy life. "

"I accept on her behalf your generous offer, " replied Neville, "but with this condition, that your bounty shall be settledexclusively on her. No man shall say that I married your daughterfor anything but herself. "

"I dare say you are right, " said the squire. "Better get a fortunein a wife than with a wife. Often when a wife brings a fortune shespends a fortune. "

"I would never submit, " remarked Neville, "to the humiliation ofbeing a pensioner upon a wife's bounty. My self-respect demandsthat, as the head of the house, I be able to depend on myselfalone. "

"You must not push your principles too far, " interrupted thesquire, "A husband and wife should have one purse, one purpose, common interests, perfect mutual confidence, and, above all, nosecrets from each other. "

In such sage counsels and confidences the evening, fraught withsuch eventful consequences to the household of The Holms and tothe hero of our little story, passed away. 

A few weeks later, shortly after the Conference by which Nevillewas appointed to the superintendence of a circuit in the westernpart of Canada, his marriage took place. The Holms for days beforewas a ferment of excitement with the baking of cakes and pastryand confections of every kind and degree, including theconstruction of a three-story iced wedding-cake, on which theskill of Kate herself, as mistress of ceremonies, was exhausted. The best parlour too was a scene of unwonted anarchy under thedistracting reign of the village dressmaker constructing thebridal trousseau. Billows of tulle, illusion, lace, and otherfeminine finery, which the male mind cannot be expected tounderstand, far less to describe foamed over tables, chairs, andfloor. The result of all this confusion was apparent on themorning of the happy day, in the sumptuous wedding-breakfast thatcovered the ample board, set out with the best plate and china, and, above all, in as fair a vision of bridal beauty as evergladdened the heart of youthful bridegroom. 

Good Elder Ryan travelled many miles to perform the weddingservice. Merry were his laugh and jest and wit and playfulbadinage, for the early Methodist preachers were no stern asceticsor grim anchorites. Like their Master, who graced the marriagefeast of Cana of Galilee with His presence, they could rejoicewith those that did rejoice, as well as weep with those that wept. Long was the prayer he uttered, but to the youthful happy pair itseemed not so, for in their hearts they prayed with him, [Footnote: See Longfellow's "River Charles". ] and solemnlydedicated themselves to the new life of consecrated usefulnessthat invited them forward to sweet ministries of mercy and ofgrace in the service of the Master. 

The squire looked rubicund and patriarchal, with his broadphysique and snow-white hair. He wore, in honour of the occasion, his coat of brightest blue, with large gilt buttons, a buffwaistcoat and an ample ruffled shirt-bosom and frilled sleeves. His manner was a singular blending of paternal joy and pride inthe beauty and happiness of the fair Katharine, and of wistfultenderness and regret at the loss of her gladsome presence fromhis home. 

Zenas was jubilant and boisterous, full of quips and pranks, overflowing with fun, like a boy let loose from school. Heevidently felt, not that he was losing a sister, but that he wasgaining a brother who was already knit to his soul by bonds offriendship strong as those between Jonathan and David--betweenDamon and Pythias. 

Our old friends, Tom Loker and Sandy McKay, also, in accordancewith early colonial etiquette, graced the occasion with theirpresence, and added their honest and heartfelt congratulations tothose which greeted the happy pair. And never was there happierpair than that which rode away in the wedding-coach to their newhome on the forest mission of the western wilds of Canada. Notmuch of this world's goods had they, but they were rich in love, and hope, and faith, compared with which all earthly riches arebut dross. 

The old house at The Holms seemed very lone and desolate, now thatits fair mistress had departed. The squire missed her much, and, in his loneliness and isolation, turned more and more toward thosereligious consolations which had been the inspiration of the lifeof his wife and daughter, and, there is ground to hope, found thatsolace which can be found nowhere else. 

He sought a diversion from his solitude in frequent visits to thevillage parsonage, where Katharine reigned in her small home-kingdom with blooming matron dignity. Nor were these visitsunprofitable to the larder, if we might judge from the stouthampers which went full and returned empty. But a still greaterjoy was the visit of Katharine to the old homestead at Christmas-time; and at midsummer, when Neville was absent at Conference. The old man never enjoyed his pipe so much as when it was filledand lighted by the deft fingers of his fair matron daughter. Inafter years these visits were made not unattended. Children'shappy laughter filled the old house with glee, and strange riotruled in the long-quiet parlour and great wide hall and echoingstairs. Another sturdy Neville, and little Kate, and baby Zenasbegan to play their parts in the momentous and often tragic dramaof life. The old man seemed to renew his youth in sharing thegleeful gambols of his grandchildren, and in telling to littleNeville, on his knee, the story of the terrible years of the war, and of the heroism of his father and his uncle Zenas, and thebrave Captain Villiers, whose memorial tablet they had seen in thevillage church at Niagara, with the strange quartering--on a fieldazure a cross enguled and a wyvern volant. 

Our brief story now is done. The bitter memories of the war havepassed away. The long reign of peace has effaced its scars alikefrom the face of nature and from the hearts of the kindred peopleswho dwell side by side in kindly intercourse and friendship. Thebroad Niagara sweeps on as ever in its might and majesty to mingleits flood with the blue waters of Ontario. The banks, in steepescarpments, crowned with oak and elm and giant walnuts, or ingentle turfclad slopes, sweep in graceful curves around thewindings of the stream. The weeping birch trails its tresses inthe waters like a wood nymph admiring her own loveliness. Thecomfortable farmsteads nestle amid their embowering peach andapple orchards, the very types of peace and plenty. The mightyriver, after its dizzy plunge at the great cataract, and madtumultuous rush and eddy at the rapids and whirlpool, smoothes itsrugged front and restrains its impetuous stream to the semblanceof a placid old age after a wild and stormy life. 

The slumberous old town of Niagara has also an air of calm repose. No vulgar din of trade disturbs its quiet grass-grown streets. Thedismantled fort, the broken stockade, the empty fosse, and thecrumbling ramparts, where wandering sheep crop the herbage and theswallows build their nests in the months of the overturned andrusty cannon, are all the evidence of the long reign of anunbroken peace. _Esto perpetua_--so may it ever be. 

A few words in conclusion as to the construction of this story ofthe War. The historical statements here given have been carefullyverified by the consultation of the best published authorities, and by personal researches on the scene of the conflict, andfrequent conversations with surviving actors in the stirringevents which then took place. In portraying the minor characters, filling up details and reported conversations, some licence had tobe given the imagination. In this connection I may adopt thelanguage of the distinguished philosopher, Isaac Taylor, author of"Aids to Faith, " with reference to a somewhat similar work ofimagination of his own: "Let me say, and I say it in candour--thatif, in a dramatic sense, I report conversations uttered longer agothan the Battle of Waterloo, it is the dramatic import only ofsuch conversations I vouch for, not the _ipsissima verba_;and likewise as to the descriptions I give, I must be understoodto describe things in an artistic sense, not as if I were givingevidence in a court of justice. "

And now my task is ended. Much of this simple story has beenwritten hastily, amid the pressing occupations of a busy life, anda considerable portion of it was written at sea, when thesteamship was reeling and rolling with the motion of the waves, sothat I had to hold on by the table at which I sat. Thesecircumstances must be pleaded in extenuation of its shortcomingsand demerits. If this retrospect of one of the most stirringepisodes in our country's history shall kindle warmer fires ofpatriotism in the hearts of any of its readers; if the records ofthe trials and triumphs, the moral heroism and brave achievementsof our Canadian forefathers shall inspire a stronger sympathywith their sufferings, and admiration of their character; and, above all, if the religious teachings of this story shall lead anyto seek the same solace and succour which sustained our fathers intribulation, and enbraved their souls for conflict with the evilsof the time--it shall not have been written in vain. 

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