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got to Charleston on the first of December. I went with Heth as his adjutant, under promise that he would give me command of a company on the first vacancy. 'A Captain Gray commanded a company under Heth, and he resigned in January, about the last of it, and Heth gave me command of his company, and a finer set of men I never commanded all backwoodsmen, and nearly all Freemasons.

Some time early in April the British besieged us; and I think for about six weeks there was one continued roar of cannon, bombs, and small arms.

At length, reduced to the utmost extremity, we capitulated on the 12th day of May, 1780, the officers retaining their side

After our names and rank were taken, we were posted at Hadsell's Point, to go not six miles out or across any creek, river, or arm of the sea.

Here we continued till June, twelve months, when a general cartel took place, and exchanges were made according to superiority of rank, and the rest sent home on parole, not to be within forty miles of a British camp. I, being a young captain, came home of course.

Thus ends my Revolutionary warfare : and I can truly say that joining the army in December 1776, I never lost a tour of duty.




you won't work, you can starve. That's Scripture ruleand

I was never one to go against my Bible,” declared old Mrs. Miller, who was evidently out of humor.

“If there is such a text, it must be for the men. I know that it was Adam's curse to work, but could never find that Eve was to take a share in it. It's the women of these days who are for doing the men's part, which is none of their business.”

“They don't like the verse about their husbands ruling over them, so they think the best man of the two ought to wear the breeches,” explained Mrs. Miller.

“ The more fools they," said pretty Effie, with great contempt. "If the girls would only keep their faces pretty, and try coaxing instead of ordering, they'd not have to put up with much ruling; and as to wearing the breeches

“You needn't trouble your head about that. Catch the hare before

you cook it. Men don't want dolls for wives, even if they are pretty. But that's not here nor there. What I started to say is, if you don't turn over a new leaf, you'll have to go somewhere out of

that "

my sight. I don't mind working myself; but always to see you look ing cool and comfortable, no matter what one has ahead of one, is more than flesh and blood can stand ; and so I say,


won't work you can go.”

Effie had heard the threat before, and knew, she thought, the full worth of it. As for turning over a new leaf, the present one was fair enough for her, the only drawback being that she got too many scoldings. But she believed in one of her grandmother's sayings,

a certainty was better than a venture.” Why sensible people should go through life working for six days out of seven, unless they liked it, Effie could not see. She intended to take life as easily as she could; so, naturally, Mrs. Miller's warning was a mere waste of breath.

But, unfortunately, the old woman was in earnest, and had an idea that she had her grandchild's interest at heart; indolence, in her creed, being the foundation-stone on which every wicked deed in the world was reared. So poor little Effie was both surprised and grieved to hear one morning that she was to go out to service at Briarfield. Now, Briarfield was famed for being the best kept farm in the Hundred, and the mistress of it was one of those notable housekeepers that are always a terror to their neighbors. Nothing ever went wrong at Briarfield. The work was never behind-hand; there was never anything left undone; the whole place went as if by clock-work. To be sure, the mistress of Briarfield was old and deaf, and could no longer manage the housekeeping ; but then Bretta, her niece, had been brought up by her, and, if anything, excelled her aunt; and every one was sure that Dick Madox would marry his cousin, even though she was not as pretty as a nice girl should be. But when a man has lived in comfort all his life, he prefers it to everything else in the world.

Effie's heart died within her when her grandmother told her of the arrangement she had made with Mrs. Madox. If it were necessary for her to go out to service which the girl was by no means sure of — it was not kind to send her to Briarfield. It was not a wise step on her grandmother's part at any rate, for she would be sure to be sent home again before the week was out.

But the old woman laughed at the suggestion. ' I've cried up my wares too well for any one to think of searching for a flaw. Besides, one always judges of the quality of the goods from the house they come out of. All has been thrift and good management with me; and if your own father did run through the property, I've a life-interest in it; and after one's death, why, one has nothing to do with this world. I've bargained you shall stay for a month; and after that I suppose I shall have the luck of those who are the owners of a bad coin ; yet one might as well try to get rid of it.”

It was very hard and cruel in her grandmother to say such things, and Elfie stole up to her own little room, feeling very forlorn and quite equal to a good cry. But wisely she remembered tears made her head ache, and after all she would be sure to be back in a month. That, her grandmother seemed to expect. A month was not very long; indeed, it seemed only a visit she was to make at Briar

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field, and Effie began tossing over her ribbons and small store of finery, in order to decide what she should take with her. young and frivolous; but youth and frivolity have helped many a one over a hard place in the highway of life.

On the morning Effie was to go to Briarfield, she found, with feelings of great dismay, that she had to walk there. It was hayharvest, and no sane person would expect a horse and man to be spared. And Effie was not altogether impracticable, though she could not help sighing a little as she made up a bundle to carry with her, her grandmother having warned her that it might be some time before she found an opportunity to send her trunk. Ten miles to walk were rather dismaying to one who never had been more than a half mile away from home in her life, that is on foot; but Effie had gotten rather in the spirit of going, and knew she could take all day on the road if she pleased, as she was not expected at Briarfield till night.

The first mile Effie found pleasant enough. The road was shady and the day not oppressively warm ; the hay-makers were in the fields, which kept her from feeling lonely; and the smell of the new hay was delicious.

Even the next mile was not tiresome. But after that Effie began to find her small bundle a burden, and to look out for the next mile-stone anxiously, as an earnest that she had made some progress. At the end of the fourth mile she sat down with the very decided opinion that she would rather die than take a step more; but after resting a while she concluded that she might possibly get on at least a little further. Presently Effie heard the sound of wheels on the road, and half-anxiously she stopped to look at the fortunate passer-by. He was a young man in a York wagon. It did seem very hard that the seat next him should be empty and she would so gladly have taken it. There are so many unnecessarily hard trials in one's life, and those who wish to ride are generally those who are forced to walk. Bụt perhaps Effie was a lucky one, for seeing a small person, almost a child, standing by herself on the road with a wistful gaze in her eyes, which were also full of tears, the young man stopped. Never had Effie looked less pretty in her life, for her face was red from the heat of the sun, and she was tired and dusty. But the owner of the York wagon was one of those good-natured men who would have stopped for an old hag if she had looked as wistfully at him as did Effie.

“Can I do anything for you?" he asked, drawing in his horse.

“ Will you tell me how how many miles it is to Briarfield ?” Effie asked, knowing very well the distance, but too timid to ask for a lift.

“ Briarfield? Are you going there? It is too far for a little thing like you to walk. Jump in and I'll give you a drive.”

Effie obeyed. She might have preferred to have been treated a little differently, and to have been helped into the wagon, instead of being allowed to scramble in as best she could.

That feat accomplished, she had to place her bundle so that it should not incommode her neighbor; and when she had succeeded, and had given a sigh of relief at finding that she had not to walk at least the whole of the six miles, Effie was conscious that a pair of shrewd but kindly eyes were watching her.

“Did you say you were going to some place near Briarfield ?” he asked.

“ I am going to Briarfield,” Effie said, with a little emphasis on the preposition.

“On a visit ?” he asked, glancing down at the bundle.
"I shall stay certainly a month," answered Effie, composedly.
Are you a relation ?” he asked.
" No.”
“ A friend ? "
“No, not a friend.”

“You certainly are not an enemy. One must ask questions to make discoveries," he said, laughing.

“Which are not worth much when they are made. I am going to service at Briarfield on a month's trial.”

The man gave a low whistle when Effie made this confession, which was a little effort on her part, a mode of expressing his surprise that was by no means flattering. She showed her dissatisfaction by a little quick movement which had the effect of turning her back on her companion. He seemed to accept the position, and did not make a remark for some time.

“ There is Briarfield,” he said at last, pointing out the house with the end of his whip.

Effie looked eagerly, but all she could see was a long, low house peeping out from amongst a clump of apple and cherry-trees. At the lane-gate the horse stopped, and Effie's driver called to a boy in a turnip-field hard by to come and open the gate for him. It was very kind in him to drive her to the house, Effie thought; but she wished he had not, for perhaps Mrs. Madox might not approve of her riding with strangers. But the man had no such misgivings, and drove up to the back of the house, as if he were quite familiar with that mode of entrance, and began to call out“ Bretta, Bretta !”

Almost immediately a girl came to the door — a girl some years older than Effie, with a pleasant face, though her complexion was rough and sun-burnt, and she had an ugly stoop in her shoulders.

" Here is some one for Briarfield,” the man said shortly, and Bretta, not at all surprised at Effie's appearance in the wagon, held out her hand to help her alight, and then took her bundle. Before Effe could thank her new acquaintance for the lift," he had driven off.

“Come in,” said Bretta. “Of course you are the new girl. We were expecting you to-day, but I did not know Aunt had sent to fetch you."

Effie followed her wonderingly. It was not her idea of sending to fetch her, to let her walk ten miles with an unwieldy bundle ; but she did not care to explain that her arrival in the wagon was an unex. pected bit of good luck.

Bretta led Elie into the kitchen, which was a large room, so scrum pulously clean that it was rather appalling; but still no one could deny that it was cheerful and pleasant. Old Mrs. Madox was seated by an open window, in a high-backed hickory rocking-chair. The glance she gave Effie was one of satisfaction. The child's red, flushed face misled her; and besides, Effie hastened to explain that she had

started to walk to Briarfield, and had only by good luck had a lift; which showed energy on her part, Mrs. Madox thought, and she highly prized energy. Effie was glad that they let her rest and only talked of the work before her.

Briarfield was only three times as large as the farm her grandmother lived on, and yet there seemed six times as much work to do. But Effie was not one to take trouble by the forelock, and felt comfortable and contented as she sat by the window near Mrs. Madox, admiring the nosegays of Greville roses which hung over the window, and watching Bretta baking cakes for supper — Bretta with her face redder than a peony from stooping over the fire.

“Why do you bake cakes in such hot weather?" asked Effie, pityingly.

"Dick doesn't like cold bread,” answered Bretta, as if that were the best of reasons.

Soon Effie found that the burden of Mrs. Madox's and Bretta's thoughts was what Dick liked. He must have hot meat for supper, and the coldest milk; the butter must be firm, and the clabber just on the turn. “Ah heavens! what a glutton he must be," thought Effie. “He seems only to care for what he eats and drinks.”

The dainty cakes Bretta was baking, and burning her fingers in turning, looked appetising, and Effie offered, when she saw them safely on a plate, to place them on the table. She had a deft way of ordering things, and a quick eye for a straight line, that Bretta lacked altogether. So she hastened to change the table arrangement, which was scarcely the work of a moment. She had stepped back a little to survey the table, and to see if everything were to her satisfaction, when she heard a man's voice say, “That is what I call nice-looking. You need never tell me, Bretta, that there is some defect in your sight; you can put things straight enough if you please.”

Effie was startled. Here was the man who had given her a lift in his wagon, expressing his approbation as if he had a right to do so. Of course Effie knew at once that he must be the Dick of whom Mrs. Madox and Bretta talked the man she was sure was too fond of his comforts.

As soon as he spoke, Mrs. Madox came to the table to pour out the coffee, signing to Effie to sit down also. Bretta still kept her place at the fire baking. The room was so large that they did not feel the effects of the fire where the table was ; only Bretta's red face gave a hint of it.

Effie ate her supper silently. She was shy in her new position, and was thinking that next day she would have to do the baking. “If he would only burn his mouth, and so take a dislike to the cakes,” she thought. “ But then Bretta makes them too light and delicious; mine shall be heavy."

Dick helped Effie when it was necessary, but took no further notice of her. He had satisfied his curiosity when he handed her into the wagon, and had pronounced her red-faced and frightened-looking, He was hungry, and had no further interest in her. But Effie for the life of her could not help watching the young farmer and making strictures upon him.

It was natural that the two girls should take kindly to each other.

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