secret agents in the city, and on your fidelity depend not only their fortunes, but their lives." He paused as if to reflect in order that full justice might be done to the peddler, and then continued: "I believe you are one of the very few that I have employed who have acted faithfully to our cause, and, while you have passed as a spy of the enemy, have never given intelligence that you were not permitted to divulge. To me, and to me only of all the world, you seem to have acted with a strong attachment to the liberties of America."

During this address Harvey gradually raised his head from his bosom until it reached the highest point of elevation: a faint tinge gathered in his cheeks, and as the officer concluded it was diffused over his whole countenance in a deep glow, while he stood proudly swelling with his emotions, but with eyes that modestly sought the feet of the speaker.

If not for money, what then?"

What has brought Your Excellency into the field? For what do you daily and hourly expose your precious life to battle and the halter? What is there about me to mourn, when such men as you risk their all for our country? No, no, no! Not a dollar of your gold will I touch: poor America has need of it all."

The bag dropped from the hand of the officer and fell at the feet of the peddler, where it lay neglected during the remainder of the interview.

The officer looked steadily at the face of his companion, and continued:

"There are many motives which might govern me that to you are unknown. Our situations are different: I am known as the leader of armies, but you must descend into the grave with the reputation of a foe to your native land. Remember that the veil which conceals your true character cannot be raised for years-perhaps never."

Birch again lowered his face, but there was no yielding of the soul in the move

'Tell them," said Birch, advancing and unconsciously resting one foot on the bag"tell them that I would not take the gold." The composed features of the officer relaxed into a smile of benevolence, and he grasped the hand of the peddler firmly : "Now, indeed, I know you; and, although the same reasons which have hitherto compelled me to expose your valuable life will still exist and prevent my openly asserting your character, in private I can always be your friend. Fail not to apply to me when in want or suffering, and so long as God giveth to me, so long will I freely share with a man who feels so nobly and acts so well. If sickness or want should ever assail you and peace once more smile upon our efforts, seek the gates of him whom you have so often met as Harper, and he will not blush to acknowledge you in his true character."

"It is little that I need in this life," said Harvey-" so long as God gives me health and honest industry, I can never want in this country-but to know that Your Excellency is my friend is a blessing that I prize more than all the gold of England's treasury.'

The officer stood for a few moments in the attitude of intense thought. He then drew to him the desk, and wrote a few lines on a piece of paper and gave it to the peddler.

"That Providence destines this country to some great and glorious fate I must believe while I witness the patriotism that pervades the bosoms of her lowest citizens," he said. "It must be dreadful to a mind like yours to descend into the grave branded as a foe to

"Children'!" exclaimed the peddler. "Can I give to a family the infamy of my name?"

The officer gazed at the strong emotion he exhibited with pain, and he made a slight movement toward the gold; but it was arrested by the expression of his companion's face. Harvey saw the intention, and shook his head as he continued more mildly :

"It is indeed a treasure that Your Excellency gives me; it is safe, too. There are men living who could say that my life was nothing to me, compared to your secrets. The paper that I told you was lost I swallowed when taken last by the Virginians. It was the only time I ever deceived Your Excellency, and it shall be the last. Yes, this is indeed a treasure to me. Perhaps," he continued, with a melancholy smile, "it may be known after my death who was my friend; but if it should not, there are none to grieve for me."

"Remember," said the officer, with strong emotion, "that in me you will always have a secret friend, but openly I cannot know you."

"I know it—I know it," said Birch; "I knew it when I took the service. 'Tis probably the last time that I shall ever see Your Excellency. May God pour down his choicest blessings on your head!" He paused and moved toward the door. The officer followed him with eyes that expressed deep interest. Once more the peddler turned and

seemed to gaze on the placid but commanding features of the general with regret and reverence, and then, bowing low, he withdrew.

The armies of America and France were led by their illustrious commander against the enemy under Cornwallis, and terminated a campaign in triumph that had commenced in difficulties. Great Britain soon after became disgusted with the war, and the independence of the States was acknowledged.

As years rolled by it became a subject of pride among the different actors in the war and their descendants to boast of their efforts in the cause which had confessedly heaped so many blessings upon their country; but the name of Harvey Birch died away among the multitude of agents who were thought to have labored in secret against the rights of their countrymen. His image, however, was often present to the mind of the powerful chief who alone knew his true character, and several times did he cause secret inquiries to be made into the other's fate, one of which only resulted in any success. By this he learned that a peddler of a different name, but similar appear ance, was toiling through the new settlements that were springing up in every direction, and that he was struggling with the advance of years and apparent poverty. Death prevented further inquiries on the part of the officer, and a long period passed before he was again heard of.

THE WAR OF EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND TWELVE.

It was thirty-three years after the interview which we have just related that an American army was once more arrayed against the troops

of England, but the scene was transferred from the banks of the Hudson to those of the Niagara. The body of Washington had long lain mouldering in the tomb; but, as time was fast obliterating the slight impressions of political enmity or personal envy, his name was hourly receiving new lustre, and his worth and integrity each moment became more visible not only to his countrymen, but to the world. He was already the acknowledged hero of an age of reason and truth, and many a young heart amongst those who formed the pride of our army in 1814 was glowing with the recollection of the one great name of America, and inwardly beating with the sanguine expectation of emulating, in some degree, its renown.

In no one were these virtuous hopes more vivid than in the bosom of a young officer who stood on the Table Rock contemplating the great cataract on the evening of the 25th of July of that bloody year. The person of this youth was tall and finely moulded, indicating a just proportion between strength and activity; his deep black eyes were of a searching and dazzling brightness. At times, as they gazed upon the flood of waters that rushed tumultuously at his feet, there was a stern and daring look that flashed from them which denoted the ardor of an enthusiast. But this proud expression was softened by the lines of a mouth around which there played a suppressed archness that partook of feminine beauty. His hair shone in the setting sun like ringlets of gold as the air from the Falls gently moved the rich curls from a forehead whose whiteness showed that exposure and heat alone had given their darker hue to a face glowing with health. There was another officer stand

ing by the side of this favored youth, and both seemed, by the interest they betrayed, to be gazing for the first time at the wonder of the Western world. A profound silence was observed by each, until the companion of the officer that we have described suddenly started, and, pointing eagerly with his sword into the abyss beneath, exclaimed,

"See, Wharton! There is a man crossing in the very eddies of the cataract, and in a skiff no bigger than an eggshell."

He has a knapsack it is probably a soldier," returned the other. "Let us meet him at the ladder, Mason, and learn his tidings."

Some time was expended in reaching the spot where the adventurer was intercepted. Contrary to the expectations of the young soldiers, he proved to be a man far advanced in life, and evidently no follower of the camp. His years might be seventy, and they were indicated more by the thin hairs of silver that lay scattered over his wrinkled brow than by any apparent failure of his system. His frame was meagre and bent, but it was the attitude of habit; for his sinews were strung with the toil of half a century. His dress was mean, and manifested the economy of its owner by the number and nature of its repairs. On his back was a scantilyfurnished pack that had led to the mistake in his profession. A few words of salutation, and on the part of the young men of surprise that one so aged should venture so near the whirlpools of the cataract, were exchanged, when the old man inquired, with a voice that began to manifest the tremor of age, the news from the contending armies. "We whipped the Redcoats here the other day among the grass on the Chippewa plains,"

said the one who was called Mason; "since when, we have been playing hide-and-go-seek with the ships. But we are now marching back from where we started, shaking our heads."

66

Perhaps you have a son among the soldiers?" said his companion, with a milder demeanor and an air of kindness. "If so, tell me his name and regiment, and I will take you to him."

The old man shook his head, and, passing his hand over his silver locks, with an air of meek resignation he answered,

"No; I am alone in the world."

You should have added, Captain Dunwoodie," cried his careless comrade, "if you could find either; for nearly half our army has marched down the road, and may be by this time under the walls of Fort George, for anything that we know to the contrary."

The old man stopped suddenly and looked earnestly from one of his companions to the other. The action being observed by the soldiers, they paused also.

"Did I hear right?" the stranger uttered, raising his hand to screen his eyes from the rays of the setting sun. 'What did he call you?”

My name is Wharton Dunwoodie," replied the youth, smiling.

The stranger motioned silently for him to remove his hat, which the youth did accordingly, and his fair hair blew aside like curls of silk and opened the whole of his ingenuous countenance to the inspection of the other.

""Tis like our native land," exclaimed the old man with vehemence "improving with time. God has blessed both."

Why do you stare thus, Lieutenant Ma

son?" cried Captain Dunwoodie, laughing a little. 'You show more astonishment than when you saw the Falls."

"Oh! the Falls. They are a thing to be looked at on a moonshiny night by your aunt Sarah and that gay old bachelor Colonel Singleton, but a fellow like myself never shows surprise unless it may be at such a touch as this.'

The extraordinary vehemence of the stranger's manner had passed away as suddenly as it was exhibited, but he listened to this speech with deep interest, while Dunwoodie replied a little gravely:

“Come, come, Tom! No jokes about my good aunt, I beg; she is kindness itself, and I have heard it whispered that her youth was not altogether happy."

"Why, as to rumor," said Mason, "there goes one in Accomac that Colonel Singleton offers himself to her regularly every Valentine's Day, and there are some who add that your old great-aunt helps the suit."

66

'Aunt Jeanette!" said Dunwoodie, laughing. "Dear good soul! she thinks but little of marriage in any shape, I believe, since the death of Dr. Sitgreaves. There were some whispers of a courtship between them formerly, but it ended in nothing but civilities; and I suspect that the whole story arises from the intimacy of Colonel Singleton and my father."

"I know all that, of course; but you must not tell me that the particular prim bachelor goes so often to General Dunwoodie's plantation merely for the sake of talking old soldier with your father. The last time I was there that yellow, sharp-nosed housekeeper of your mother's took me into the pantry and said that the colonel was no

despisable match, as she called it, and how the sale of his plantation in Georgia had brought him- O Lord! I don't know how much."

"Quite likely," returned the captain; "Katy Haynes is no bad calculator." They had stopped during this conversa tion, in uncertainty whether their new companion was to be left or not.

The old man listened to each word, as it was uttered, with the most intense interest. but toward the conclusion of the dialogue the earnest attention of his countenance changed to a kind of inward smile. He shook his head, and, passing his hand over his forehead, seemed to be thinking of other times. Mason paid but little attention to the expression of his features, and continued:

"To me she is selfishness embodied."

"Her selfishness does but little harm," returned Dunwoodie. "One of her greatest difficulties is her aversion to the blacks. She says that she never saw but one that she liked.”

"And who was he?"

"His name was Cæsar; he was a houseservant of my late grandfather Wharton. You don't remember him, I believe? He died the same year with his master, while we were children. Katy yearly sings his requiem, and, upon my word, I believe he deserved it. I have heard something of his helping my English uncle-as we call General Wharton-in some difficulty that occurred in the old war. My mother always speaks of him with great affection. Both Cæsar and Katy came to Virginia with my mother when she married. My moth

er was '