Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1876-06-29
AN AMAZ0N'S RECEPTION.

'Tryon is coming! Tryon isrcom ing!
was the cry that blanched many 9
cheek in Connecticut in the month o
July, 1873.
This news spreading like wildfire
about the towns of Fairfield and Nor
walk, was well calculated to excite
alarm in patriotic breasts, for Tryon
was merciless invader, and wherever
he went the torch completed his work
of destruction. In the month of Feb.
ruary of the year just written, he had
ravaged Kingsbridge and HOrseneck,
and now, for the secocd time, he had
entered the State.
His soldiers committed, un,ler his
very eye, atrocities Of the most shock.
ing description; they plundered with.
out distinction; old and young, rich
and poor felt alike the merciless hands
of the kings man. East Haven, Fair
field and Norwalk were reduced to
ashes, and a thousand acts of barbarous
cruelty were perpetrated on the home
less patriots. A force sufficient to check
the advance of the invader could not
be raised in the State. Connecticut's
able-bodied patriots " ere absent in the
army, and their homes were as de-
fenseless as the lions whelps when the
parents are away in search of food.
Gov. TryoD knew that he would find
Connecticut completely at his mercy,
ard congratulated himself on the easy
conquest that invited him to her shores.
He succeeded in his errand of devasta-
tiOn, and returned to mis- superiOrs with
victory in his hand. But he made his
name odious throughout North Ameri-
ca, and his memory eXecrable to every
patriot in the land.
Not far from Norwalk stood the
plain home of Barbara Bidlack, whose
husband was atiilerist doing duty un-
der Knox. She was large, muscular
woman whose strength was prOdigious;
il had gained for her the singular sobri-
quet of Mrs. Hercules title of which
she was rather proud than otherwise.
Her features were rather inclined to
coarseness, ard a physiognomistw would
have concluded that there was Celtic
blood in her veins. AS she had no
children, she was the sole occupant of
the house, and her nearest neighbOr
was a young woman named Hayen
who had lost her husband at the battle
of Brier Creek.
ed visits with the young widow, was
not aware of Tryon's second invasion
until he began to approach Norwalk.
Tue terror of the inhabitants, many of
whom were abandoning their homes,
acquainted her with the disastrous state
of affairs, and her eyes flashed fire
when she exclaimed to the fugitives:
You may go, il you wish; but two
hundrad such rascals as Gov. TryOn
cannot frighten Barbara Bidlack one
inch from her home! If the red-coat.
ed sccundrel enters my house he'll
meet with a reception he'll never for
get.'
More than once she was urged to fly,
but disdained with proud and defiant
curl of the lip, and awaited with ca
gerness the arrival of the invaders.
She was soon treated to the sight OF
Norwalk in flames, and saw the torch
applied to her neighbOrs' houses. But
the spectacle moved her not; she did
not even barricade her door, nor sus-
pend for q moment the performance of
her household duties. But all the time
there was an indignant CLEAN in her
eyes, End more than once she glanced
at the old musket which occupied one
corner of her kitchen.
1t was near the hour of noon one sui
try day of July, when Barbara Bid
lack, about to discuss the frugal meal
she had prepared, was startled by a
heavy footstep.
Lifting her eyes from the steaming
meat that graced the little table, she
beheld British officer standing in the
door. His aspect did not frighten her
in the least, though she knew from his
uniform that he was a soldier of lofty
rank.
Another plate, Mrs. Hercules he
commanded, in naughty tone. stri-
ding forward, and, at the same time,
putting his hand on the hilt of his
sword, as if to frighten her.
She smiled derisively as she slowly
rose to her feet.
who are you, sir?'
hereabouts, and dare say that the
rebels will not soon forget me! My
name is Tryonn
Gov. Tryon, the British rascal-the
man who burns houses over widows
heads, and robs the babe of its cradle?
If you are Gov. TryOn know you for
the meanest villain that ever trod New
England sOil.'
Tryon's face grew crimson, but
smothering his rage, he burst into a
cruel laugh.
You are just the vixen 1 heard you
were' he exclaimed. 'They call you
Mrs. Hercules throughout this region,
and must say you resemble the stable
cleansing god in build. Where is your
husband?'
Under a flag that wouldn't own you
for a defenderp was the reply.
He's rebel, then" said Tryon with
sneer.
Like his wife! He's soldier, too,
and not house burner
Mrs. Hercules, l discover that my
clemency is not recognized by the peO-
pie OF this State, and that my kings
heart is supposed to contain no good.
Why, my dear woman, the existence
of single house on the coast is mon
ument of King Georges mercy and
mine! But we will discuss this subject
at the table. / have ridden several
hiles. to enjoy tete-a-tete with q wo-
man of whom have heard so much,
and, besides, 1 am hungry. That meat
looks pslatable.'
1T wasn't Cooked for British Gen.
eral! exclaimed the fearless woman
with flashing eyes, and the next mo-
ment she removed the meat and thrust
it into her rude cupboard, to the con-
of the Governor.
Come, come, he said, Il do not want
to sit down to q cold dinner
Then go somewhere else and get
your dinner. There are sneaking to-
ries about Norwalk who would rejoice
to tickle your tongue with the best
they have in the house,
The Briton's anger rose again.
Il command that meat to be replaced
upon the table, he said, drawing his |
sword. sYour aecursed insolence is not |