The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1846-05-09


starting to his elbow, lit is some of our folks
returning to the valley. and just letting off
their guns, by way ofrejoicing.'
Our people are neither lSnaves nor fools to
burn powder for nothing after such Il days
work, and when we are likely to need every
kernel we have
But that firing was at the valley, that's sar-
TIM, said Joab, rolling over like ahuge OK and
getting up.
There's no denying it, said the other, ris-
ing also, and collecting his arms, there's no
denying that; and there is the mystery. How
ever gather up your accoutrements, and we
will soon know what it means.
A cloud ofsmoke at this moment, rose
from behind the trees in the west. Hasten,
Joab! cried Edward leapng the brook and
striking into the grove already noticed. Joab
followed with bound that made the bank
shake again, and both vanished among the
trees.
Now we breathe again. said Lieutenant
Egelstone, rs, after skulking march of half
and hour through the pines, his party e.
merged into road.
'Whew!' said Gordon, wiping his fiery coun-
tenance, and flaming himself his cooked
hat, tits very hot
'Wel,here you can cool at your leisure,'
signs of the enemy-men all out on the Lex
ington road-nobody at home to entertain us
but the women
tpiUe rdmOlr,' shouted Gordon, springng
from the fence where he had seated himself,
let's be moving
You would hardly have known them for
the same men, who an hour before were
running before the enemy. The craven
fear which had driven them from
Concord, was supplanted by feeling of Sc
curity; and they soon waXed bold enough TO
resume those acts of wanton depredations,
which had already stamped them infamous.
| Here was not the freezing solitude of Con-
cord, for the women and children saw them
from their doors and windows, and shrieked
and fed. Nothing raises the courage of
towards so much as the shrieks of helpless
ness. They followed with loud shouts, en-
| tered the houses, dashed the windows and
| furniture pricked the children with their bay
Oncts, and chased the shrieking women from
cellar to garret.
! Sunset brought them to the entrance of u
considerable valley, through which in beatI-
! titul meanders glided small stream Of wa
ter. At the further end of the valley rose a
village spire, and some dozen or twenty
chimnies and nearer, on a little eminence,
stood an elegant white house by itself. The
had all been of'the common order of farm
houses, of that period; long, marrow buildings,
facing the south, sometimes two stories in
front, but invariably one in the rear, where
the roof approached within u few feet of the
ground. to serve as n barrier against the
strong northwesters. They had found little in
buildings ofthis sort worthy n gentleman's
pocket or llnapsac<, as Gordon expressed it,
But this looked encouraging. and eupidity
was on tiptoe. Large and square, it rose in
the centre of the valley, with a certain aristo-
cratcal air, closely associated in the midst of
our heroes with rouleaus, baskets, and chests
of plate. The stream wound gracefully
round the little knoll on which it stood,
tiinged with willows, now IN the
first yellow dress of spring. and extensive
gardens and orchards in the rear, and orna-
mental trees and shrubbery in front, suggest
cd 10 the imagination what might be the
charms of the place month later.
Colonel Downer, the owner of The Will
lows as this seat was called, was gray head
ed veteran ofthe French wars. He had been
at the taking of Leuisburg, had bled with
Wolfe on the heights of Abraham, and had
been fellow soldier of Amherst throughout
his brilliant career of Victories thus helping
10 win an empire for the unnatural mother
who was now iRfiicting such deep wrongs
upon her offspring. The natural influence
of service and reward had attached him
warmly to the British arms and numerous of
ficers in the army. He bore the commission
of the British king, and, in a just cause, would
have cheertully died in his service. But he
was an enlightened and high-spirited man,
and knew right from wrong; and m oreover
he loved his own willows more than the
whole island of Britain. Thus, while he
might still have held his commission as
ba oh l,o1 nna ,al
as amongst the most violent of tho rebels of
Massachusetts Bay. That he deserved such
a character from the British authorities, he
had that day proved. He had led forth a
hundred men to pursue and harass the enc
my, on their retreat from Concord, and had
continued the pursuit till he reached the
banks ofCharles river. At the time when
Egestone's party came in sight of the Will
lows, Col. Downer, accompanied by few of
his neighbors had just returned from the
field, having left his son with the men of the
valley, still in pursuit of struggling parties of
the enemy.
Late in life, Col. Downer had married an
amiable lady, who had been deceased many
wears, leaving him an only son and daughter.
To all appearance, Isabella Downer was as
gentle n daughter of Eve, as ever wept for
Joy or sorrow. But few can tell the might
that is hidden in the deep soul of woman, OF
what she will dare when pressed by the mas
ter passions of love or revenge. An angel
ofpeace and love as she is, when the sum
shine of honor is coming in upon her heart
the page ofhstory bears record that she can
revenge. If subsequent events should reveal
passion like the last in Isabella Downer, in
Justice we must say, that it had never yet
showed ITSELF and that its exhibition, at any
period prior to the date of this narration,
would have caused as much surprise, as light
ming from the unclouded sky. Spirit she did