Monmouth weekly herald. [volume] (Freehold, N.J.) 1854-1860, 1857-11-26

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dom.
Let us go yonder into the hollow, where
the highway, descending hill, crosses a
gentle brook. ascends the opposite hill
and is lost, TO view among thet to the
south. On either side of The road. dark
ems the foliage of the forest trees, scarce
| ~ tinged hy The breath of autumn
This gentle brook, tossing and murmur-
ing on It's way IS sufmounted by bridge
of rude pine planks. defended on either
| side by a slender railing
4 dark brown horse stands champine
the bit aud tossing his black name in the
centre ofthe bridge, while his dismouu.
ted rider bends ovei. sonder railing, and
gazes down iuto the brooklct with va.
cant stares
Let US look we'll upon that traveller.
The manly form. enveloped in a blue over
coat. the Young h,.oW eufasoali1esis ii. d
farmers round hat, the uhdercoat OF a
rich claret hue, with gold buttons and
tinselled trinkets, the well polished boots
all display the mingled costume Of a
yeoman and soldier.
His rich brown hair losses aside from
his brow; his dark hazel eye grows glas-
sy with thought; his cheek is red and
white By turns. Now his slip is compress.
ed, and now it quivers. Look! He no
longer leans upon the railing, no longer
gazes down into the dark waters, bnt pac-
| ing hurricdly up aud down the rustic
bridge. displaying the elegance of his
form. the beauty Of his manly face, to the
light Of day.
The sun is seer by intervals through
the tops Of these eastern trees; the song
of The birds is in the woods; the rich air
comes freighted with the riclla odors of
fall. 1t is beautiful marming. Light
ieathery clouds floating overhead. only to
serve to realize the clear blue Of the au-
tumnal sky.
1t is beautiful morning. but the young
traveller feels not the breeze. cares not
for the Joyous beam Nor do those
wreaihs Of autumnal mist. hanging in
graceful festoons, among the tall forest
trees. arrest the glance Of his hazel eye.
He PAGES along the bridge. Now he
lays bis hand upon the name Of his horse,
conceal tlc undercoat Of clarct. with It's
handsome gold buttons; and at last,
pausing in the centre of the bridge. he
clasps his hands. and gazes ubsently upon
the rough planks.
Well may that man that PAGES the
bridge. taus clasping hishands. thusstand
like marble with his dark hazel eyes glas.
sy with thought.
For he is a gambler.
He has matched his life against a gilt
Etering boon tile sword of general. Tie
game he plays s-Treason-if he. wins.
an army is betrayed, General captured,
Continet lost. If he loses. he dies on
the gallows, with the rope about his neck
and the handage over his eyes.
Was he not bold gambler?
j He has been far into the enemy's coun-
TRY. Over the river. up the rocks, and
into the secret chamber With the TRAf.
ToR he has planned The treason. Now he
is OH his way home again to the CITY,
| where his General awaits him, trembling
with suspense.
| Is mot thata handsome boot on his right
/ foot? | donot .aIIude so much to the
heavy tops, nor TO The polished surface,
hut to the glove like nicely with which ii
envelopes the manly leg. That boot con
tains theGortress. of West Points the lib.
erty Of George Washington, the safety OF
the Continental armyl An important
boot, you will admit, and we'll adapted to
create fever in his mind who wears it. &
| One question is there. before the mind
of that young Traveller: Can he pass u'l-
moiested tothe City of .Nesu YORK..
He has come far on his journey; he has
passed through perils that chilled his
blood and now thirty miles alone remain.
But thirty miles OF neutral ground, ray
aged by robbers from both armies. who
plumber the American because he issnot
Briton, and rob the Briton because he
lis not an American.
This is5a thrilling question.
Those papers in his boot, once trans
ferred to Sir Henry Clinton, this young