The Lambertville press. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1858-1???, 1859-11-30
Legend of the Revolution.
VALLEY FORGE
BY GEORGE LIPPARD-

wide waste OF snow.
1t was a cold, dark winter, and the
snow began to fall-when, from the
broad fireplace of the old farm house,
the cheerful blaze of massive logs, that
flashed around wide and spacious
room.
Two persons sat there by that fire,
8 father and child. The father, who
sits yonder, with soldiers belt thrown
over his farmers dress, is a man Of
some fifty years, his eyes blood-shot,
his hair changed to an untimely grey,
his face wrinkled and hallowed by care,
and by dissipation more than care.
And the daughter who sits in the
full light of the blaze opposite her
father-a slenderly formed girl of some
seventeen years, clad in the coarse lin
sey skirt and kerchief, which made up
the costume Of farmers daughter, in
the days of the Revolution.
She is not beautiful-ah, no
Care perhaps, that disease, consump-
ton, which makes the heart grow cold
to name-has been busy with that
young face, sharpened its outlines, and
stamped it with deathly paleness.
There is no bloom on that young
cheek. The brown hair is laid plain
ly aside from her pale brow. Then
tell me, what is it you see, when you
gaze in her face ?
You look at that young girl, you
see nothing but the CLEAN of two large
dark eyes, that burn into your soul.
Yes, those eyes are unnaturally
large and dark and bright-perhaps
consumption is feeding their fame.
And now then as the father sits
there so moody and sullen, as the
daughter sits yonder, SO sad and silent
and pale, tell me, 1 pray you, the story
of their lives.
That farmer, Jacob Mannheim, was a
peaceful, happy man, before the Revo-
luton. Since the war, he has become
drunken and idle-driven his wife bro
ken hearted to the graye-and worse
than all joined band Of Tory refugees,
who scour the land at dead Of night,
burning and numbering as they go.
Tonight, at the hour Of two, this
Tory band will lie in wait, in a neigh
boring pass, to attack and murder the
rebel Washington, whose starving SOL
diers are yonder in the huts of Valley
Forge.
Washington on hi. lonely journeys,
is wont to pass this farm house the
cut-throats are there in the next cham
Der, drinking and feasting as they wait
for two o'clock at night.
And the daughter, Mary-for her
name was Mary; they loved that name
in the good old times-whatis the story
of her brief young life ?
She had been reared by her mother,
now dead and gone home, to revere
this man Washington, who tonight will
be attacked and murdered-to revere
him next to God, nay, more; that
mother, on her death bed joined the
hands of this daughter, in solemn be-
trothal, with the hands Of young par
tisan leader, Harry Williams, who now
shares the crust and the cold at Valley
Forge.
Well may that maiden's eye flash
with unnatural brightness, well may
her pale face gather single burning
flush in the centre of each cheek.
For yesterday afternoon, she went
four miles, over roads of ice and snow,
to tell Captain Williams the plot of
the refugees. She did not reach Val
ley Forge until Washington had left
on one of his lonely journeys; so this
night, at twelve, the partisan captain
will occupy the rocks above the neigh
boring pass, to " trap the trappers " Of
George Washington.
Yes, that pale slender girl, remem-
bering the words Of her dying mother
had broken through her obedience tc
her father, after a long and bitter
struggle. How dark that struggle
in faithful daughters heart She
had betrayed his plots to his enemies
-stipulating first for the life, the safe
ty of her traitor father
And now as father and child are sit
ting there, as the shouts of the tory
refugees echo from the next chamber
as the hand of the old clock is on thu
hour of eleven-hark, there is the sounC
of horses hoofs without the farm house
there is pause-the door opens
tall stranger, wrapped in thicl
cloak white as snow, enters, advances
to the fire, and in brief words solicits
some refreshment and an honr's re
pose.
why does the tory Mannheim star
aghast at the sight Of that stranger
blue and gold uniform-thep mumblinI
something to his daughter about get
ting food for the traveller" rushe'
wildly into the next room, where n
brother tories are feasting?
Tell me, why does that young .glr
z4ond travail I;r ~ hofrro fha tall rfranOa