The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1873-10-22
nnET nARrE IN xEw yERs Ell.

"
Bret Harte has been seeking "reminiscences
of Washington and relics Of revolutionary
history in Baskinridge and tells the.following
interesting anecdote. In a little field where
the pillow still turns up musket-balls and car
tridge-bo took place one Of those irregular
skirmishes between the militiamen and Knyp-
hausen's stragglers that made the retreat his
torical. A Hessian soldier, wounded in both
legs and utterly helpless, dragged himself to
the cover of hazel copse and lay there hid
den for two days. On the third day madden
ed by thirst, he managed to creep to the rail
fence of an adjoining farmhouse, but found
himself unable to mount it or pass through.
There was no one in the house but little
girl of six or seven years. He called to her
and in a faint voice asked for water. She re-
turned to the house, as if to comply with his
request, but mounting chair took from the
chimney a heavy "Queen Anne" musket,
and going to the door, took deliberate aim at
the helpless intruder and fired. The man fell
back dead without groan. She replaced the
musket, and returning to the fence covered
the body with boughs and leaves until it was
hidden. Two or three days after she related
the occurrence in a careless, casual way, and
leading the way to the fence, with piece of
bread and butter in her gailtless little fingers,
pointed out the result of her simple unsophis-
ticated effort. The Hessian was decently bur
led, but could not find out what became of
the little girl Nobody seemed to remember.
trust that IN after years she was happily
married--that no Jersey Loyelace attemp ted
to trife with heart whose impulses were 20
prompt, and whose purposes were so sincere.
They did not seem to know il she had mar
ried or not. Yet it does not seem probable
such simplicity and conception, frankness OF
expression, and dizziness of execution were
lost to posterity, or that they failed in their
| time and season to give flavor to the domestic
felicity of the period. Beyond this, the story
perhaps has little value-except as an offset
to the usual anecdotes of Hessian atrocity.
They had their financial pancs even in Jer-
sey in the old days. She remembered when
Dir. White MARI ed your cousin Mary, OF was
it Susan ?-yes, it was Susan she remembers
that your uncle Harry brought in an armful
of bank notes-paper money, you know--aRl
threw them in the corner, saying they were no
good to anybody. She remembered playing
with them, and giving them to your aunt An
ma no, child, it was your own mother, bless
you heart. Some of them was marked us high
as a hundred dollars. Everybody kept gold
aud silver in a stocking, or i'll "chaney
vase like that You never used money to buy
anything When Josiah went to Springfield
to buy anything he took cart-load of things
~. l,s.s 40 esrananes rria.st ysaaer picturc-
frame was paid for in greetings. But then
people knew just what they had they didn't
fritter their substance away in unchristan
trihes like your father, Eliza Jane, who
doesn't know that there is God who will
smite him hip and thigli-for vengeance is
mine and those that believe in me--but here,
singularly enough, the inferior maxillaries
gave out and her jaw dropped. Il noticed that
her giddy daughter of IS was sitting near her,
but do not pretend to connect this fact with
the arrested flow of personal disclosure.) How
belt when she recovered her speech again it
appeared that she was complaining of the
weather.
The seasons have changed very much since
your father went to sea. The Winters used
to be terrible in those days. When she went
over to Springfield in June she saw the snow
still on Watson's ridge. They were whole
days when you couldn't get over to William
Henry's--their next neighbor, quarter of
mile away 1t was a drefful Winter that the
Spanish sailor was found-you don't rcmem-
/ L IN. E1i1o n ba
fore your time. There was little personal
skirmishing here, which | feared, at first
might end in suspension of maxillary func-
lions and the loss of tho story. but here it is
All me- it is pure white Winter idyl, how
shall sing it this bright, gay Autnmnal day
1t was a terrible night, that Winters night
when she and the century were young togeth
er. The sun was lost at three o'clock the
snowy night came down like white sheet
that tapped around the house, beat at the
windows with its edges, and at last wrapped
IT in close embrace. In the middle of the
night they thought they heard above the
wind a voice crying "Chrstus ! Christus -
in a foreign tongue. They opened the door
no easy task in the north wind that pressed
it's strong shoulders against it--but nothing
was to be seen but the drifting snow. The
next morning dawned ON fences hidden, and
a landscape changed and obliteratcd with
drift. During the day they again heard the
cry of g Christus y this time faint and hid
den like childs voice. They searched in
vain. the drifted snow hid it's secret. On the
third day they broke path to the fence, and
then they heard the cry distinctly. Digging
down they found the body Of q man-a Span
sb sailor, dark and bearded, with earrings
in his ears. As they stood gazing down at
his cold and pulselcss figure, the cry of
"chrstns again rose on the wintry air, and
they turned and fled in snpersttious terror to
the house. And then one of the children,
bolder than the rest, knelt down and opened
the dead mans rough pea-jackct and found
what think you Pa little blue and green par
rot nesting against his breast 1t was the
bird that had echoed mechanically the last
despairing cry of the life which was given to
save it. 1t was the bird that ever AFTER amid
outlandisl oaths and wilder sailor songs that
y. A.. ,fs fo