spurn an alliance with a Tory, and that neither talents nor position would avail. Mary Magdalene's honorable principles and warm affection for her benefactors made her aware that the path of duty pointed homeward, and she resolved to follow it by giving up her pleasures and admiring companions; but the intercourse between the two cities was suspended, and proved a hindrance to the performance of her intentions. The Doctor adhered to the royal side amid popular discontents. In the gathering storm, the time came when her decision had to be made, and she adopted his views. The aunt thought her niece was forming an alliance so splendid as to justify or excuse any intrigue on her part, and under her auspices, a private marriage was hastily decided upon, not to take place in her mansion, however, as that would insuperably alienate herself and her sister, Mrs. Bard. At the little town of Burlington, N. J., the ceremony was performed, after which they retired to the farm house of Mrs. A.

The next event to take place in this history was the capture of Dr. Bancroft by the patriots at Mt. Holly, N. J., on December 14, 1776. His captor, Colonel Samuel Griffin, sent him, as a suspected spy, to Philadelphia, where he was committed to the State Prison, December 22, 1776,* and from whence he addressed a petition, † dated January 10, 1777, to the Committee of Congress, requesting "he may have a speedy opportunity of answering to whatever may be alledged against him, & restored to his liberty, or suffered to go out on parole, as shall be Judged most proper, as he has no doubt of making it appear he is of a disposition not inimical to the Liberties of America." After being imprisoned for sixty days, he wrote, on February 18, 1777, to the Council of Safety, asking for a hearing, and claiming that his arrest was due to the surmises of prejudiced persons, and that his health was suffering. In this last communication he states his reason for being in Mt. Holly at the time of his arrest. He says, "my being there was owing to the conveniency of my wife being with a relation, while I was expected to have been absent on my intended voyage to France."§ On February 27, 1777, Dr. Bancroft, still in prison, sent a letter|| to the President of the Council of Safety, again asking for an investigation of the charges made against him, as he thought he had been confined long enough merely upon the suspicion of guilt, and requesting that if found innocent he might speedily be given his freedom. It was not long after this that he was released, and by April, 1777, he had returned to his wife.

The Doctor's sentiments now becoming more thoroughly known at Burlington, he was closely watched, and becoming an object of suspicion to the New Jersey Council of Safety, was summoned to appear before them, which he did at Bordentown, on April 22, 1777.¶ The Board examined him, and, upon his taking the oaths of Abjuration and Allegiance to the State, he was dismissed.

His treatment in the two states made the Doctor very indignant, as he considered he was being persecuted solely for his opinions, not having committed any condemnatory act. Upon his release he openly espoused the Royal cause, and entered on board the British ship of war "Roebuck," as Surgeon, which position he was to exchange for one in the army. In 1783 he was Surgeon in the 2nd Battalion, New Jersey Loyalist Volunteers, encamped near Savannah, Georgia.

"Penna. Colonial Records," Vol. XI, p. 59.

"Arch. Penna.," 2 S., Vol. I, p. 686.

"Arch. Penna.," 1 S., Vol. V, p. 231.

The relative whom Mrs. Bancroft was visiting at this time was her cousin Mary, Mrs. Thomas Hunloke,

a daughter of Peter Theodorus Valleau.

|| "Arch. Penna.," 1 S., Vol. V, p. 246.

¶ "Minutes of New Jersey Council of Safety for 1777," p. 31.

In a few weeks after joining the "Roebuck"* he went south, leaving his wife at the farm house of Mrs A, already mentioned. The family were plain Friends and hard working farmers, who, in their way, were very kind and sympathetic towards Mrs. Bancroft in all her troubles.

Mrs. Bancroft's marriage to a Tory had very much embittered the faithful guardians of her childhood, and they resolved to know her no more. To both the separation was heart rending. This resolution being communicated to her in her retirement, caused her to reflect deeply upon her position. Good common sense and a cheerful disposition led her to secure the friendship of the family, as in her character there was a union of dignity and companionship, making it desirable for her to have associates. She sought the regard of the household by manifesting gratitude for their attentions, and by conformity to their habits wherein she could acquiesce. Her respectful manner engendered a reciprocal attachment dissolved only by death.

Hearing nothing from the Doctor for months she began to fear lest he had fallen a victim to a southern climate. Hitherto he had kept her well supplied with funds and affectionate remembrances, but now her purse was growing slender, and she was in arrears for a quarter's board, being reduced to her last guinea. As a consequence of this state of affairs she became much depressed, and upon observing this her kind hosts of the farm house strove to conceal from her the unfavorable rumors regarding her husband, that were now afloat. At this juncture she was informed of the arrival, in the vicinity, of a gentleman direct from the encampment where the Doctor's regiment lay. Making a visit to him, without an introduction, she inquired how the regiment was situated and then for Dr. B. He, being a stranger to her anxiety, related what he knew. He said he had spent an hour with Dr. B. and his bride the morning of his departure, and had attended his wedding three evenings before. After listening to the stranger's story, she was overpowered and silenced for a time, then she exclaimed, "Impossible Sir, for he is my husband!" Her informant was deeply confused; however, on comparing incidents he was convinced of his identity, and felt so indignant at being a participator in any way in such a base procedure (and the companion of a villian, too, that would abandon so interesting a young creature, with an infant), in the warmth of ardor he vehemently denounced his baseness, which aroused her to check his rashness, by repeating with composure, "Sir! it is impossible, for he is my husband; and I will not believe him guilty of dishonor."

Late in the evening she returned to the farm house, and passed a sorrowing and sleepless night. In the morning, at the breakfast table, she communicated. her trouble to the family, who laid aside the duties of the day, and devoted their time to sympathizing with her, and striving to soothe her agitation. Mrs. A. embracing her, said, "should poverty befall her in those perilous times, she should share her last half-loaf."

When the mysterious marriage story spread through the country it excited

The "Roebuck" was lying in the Delaware River, off Philadelphia, during the occupancy of that city by the British, in the winter of 1777-78, and the following spring. The British troops evacuated the city on June 18, 1778, after which the "Roebuck" sailed for southern waters.

"The Meschianza at Philadelphia." This is the appellation of the most splendid pageant ever exhibited in our country, if we except the great "Federal Procession" of all trades and professions, through the streets of Philadelphia, in 1788. The Meschianza was chiefly a tilt and a tournament, with other entertainments, as the term implies, and was given on Monday the 18th of May 1778, at Wharton's country-seat in Southwark, by the officers of General Sir William Howe's army, to that officer, on his quitting the command to return to England. The unfortunate Major Andre was one of the leading spirits, and the charm of the company. Major Andre wrote a description of the Meschianza, and called it the most splendid entertainment ever given by an army to its General." One of the entertainments was a splendid supper and dance, given by Captain Hammond, on board the "Roebuck." The ship was fully illuminated, and one hundred and seventy-two persons sat down to supper. -See "Watson's Annals of Philadelphia," Vol. II, pp. 290-2-3.

much adverse criticism. Some few pitied her, but many said it was a visitation for marrying a Tory. In the midst of all this commotion, she received letters and remittances from the Doctor. He was well and had good quarters. The marriage story was now solved. The Doctor B. who had been married was a surgeon in the same regiment, the spelling of his name differing only in two letters from that of Dr. Bancroft, and pronounced in a very similar manner.

Dr. Bancroft now urged his wife to take advantage of a vessel soon to sail from New York, and, under the protection of Captain Lee of the army (an unpolished man, but faithful to his trust), to come to him at the South, where the best of accommodations were provided for her reception. Mrs. Bancroft, eased in her mind, by her husband's advice, resolved to bid farewell to country, kindred and friends, and join him, as he wished to practice his profession in the vicinity of London, England, whither he intended going as soon as he could resign his commission with honor.

Before going south Mrs. Bancroft decided to pay a visit to Dr. and Mrs. Bard, and ask their forgiveness for all that had passed. She had provided a suitable woman, residing in Elizabethtown, N. J., to attend her infant in the event of her going South, and was to meet Captain Lee at that place in fifteen days, equipped for the voyage at a moment's notice. Fully aware of the many dangers that must be encountered in her journey up the North River to the home of her former guardians, near Poughkeepsie, she left her child and baggage in the care of this trusty woman, and provided herself with suitable apparel. Clad in a dark homespun dress, with coarse shoes, and her guineas quilted in a girdle and fastened around her waist, she set out on her adventurous way, alone and partly on foot.

Uncertain how to proceed, a large reward enabled her to stipulate with a man for a passage from Elizabethtown to New York. From the latter place, through the influence of a British officer, she was conducted to a town some miles distant, where she was informed that at a village, seven miles further on, a packet touched twice a week, and that the morrow was their regular day. The times were perilous, and the country filled with conflicting parties, making it impossible to procure a conveyance, or an escort, so she resolved to walk the seven miles. It was now the season of spring* and the weather was damp and cool. The foot path she took was devious and lonely, not a human being or a habitation anywhere. Reaching some woods she stopped and rested at the cabin of a hermit, who advised her how to proceed, as she had slightly strayed from the road. She kept the path by following, at a safe distance, the drum of a recruiting party, who had passed her as she was conversing with the recluse.

The dusky shadows of evening were thickening around her, and the distant drum and shrill bugle from the barracks warned her of the approaching hour for the sundown reveille. The stately hills and rocks rose upon her view, and the blue vaporing mists were gathered about their summits, hanging like curtains in the air. Soon the twilight died away, and the glimmer of a few lights marked the place of her destination, when an officer rode suddenly by her, and she thought she recognized his features.

Entering an ordinary tavern, she seated herself in the bar-room by the fire, hungry, chilled with cold, and weary, and so dejected that she hesitated to order a meal or a night's lodging, even with a full purse to pay her fare. She sighed for a glimpse of a familiar face, or even the sound of a voice to address her. In this

* 1779.

disconsolate state she wept. A quick footstep arrested her attention, and the well-known face of General Nathaniel Greene* was presented. To introduce herself would secure aid and counsel, so much needed; yet she shrunk from this, and even tried to conceal her face.

He paced the floor, evidently an attentive observer, and advancing, addressed her politely, inquiring the cause of so young a female being alone amid such peril. An evasive and confused reply was given, when he demanded an explicit answer. To tell her motive was a hard struggle, it simply concerned herself, to induce the Captain of the packet to set her on shore at Dr. Bard's landing.

The General listened to her brief reply with intense solicitude, and exclaimed, "Can it be possible!" "Am I deceived, or is it the voice of M. Vallois?" A conflict of feeling agitated her, and almost choked with sobs, she said, "Yes General Greene, you do know the voice!" "It is that of a penitent wanderer, on a pilgrimage to her foster home, an exile, rushing into the arms of her early friends to beg forgiveness, and implore a parting blessing, ere she bids them a final farewell."

The recognition, though grave and silent, was deeply exciting. The General was cautious, and dared not converse freely, lest it should be known that he had held an interview with the wife of a Tory. He begged her to betray no knowledge of him, but to receive any little attention as charity towards a helpless woman.

The walk of seven miles in fear and trembling was wearisome. The day had been passed without refreshment, and now she was exhausted. The General relieved her embarrassment by ordering supper and securing her lodging, and still more important, he ordered the Captain to land her where she desired. This could not have been effected without his influence, and her scheme would have failed.

Early the next morning she went on board the packet. The Captain was kind, and told her she was indebted to General Greene's influence for being set on shore at Bard's landing. She ascended the frowning hills; the path lay beside the skirts of a forest, where the wind sighed mournfully through the broken boughs of many an ancient oak. She sat down on a mossy seat, feeling her need of support and guidance in the difficulty of entering the abode of her offended relatives, doubtful of meeting with a reception, after all she had passed through. Whilst thus agitated and dejected, a tall figure came out of the forest glade; his snowy locks were hanging over his shoulders, and a bundle of sticks in his arms. The recognition of his features startled her, and she shrieked and fainted. His attention was arrested, and when she revived, she exclaimed, "Oh! my father!" His wanderings had separated them since childhood; remembrances of the past flitted across her mind to sadden their meeting. They conversed till the evening shades gathered over them. Her parent could give her no advice, for the family were so exasperated at her marriage with a Tory, that even to name her was prohibited, and the youngest sont only, ventured to allude to her. She was his favorite cousin, and being ardent in his feelings, he vowed that when he was a man, he would traverse oceans and scale mountains to meet his beloved cousin P.

Being left to pursue her lonely way to the mansion, she met an old servant, who was milking a stray cow near the kitchen door; the servant had always been treated by the family more as a relative than as a slave. Of her she inquired for a night's lodging. Her familiar voice astonished the woman; she sprang to her feet,

* A detachment of his command was quartered at this village.

† He was Dr. John Bard's son Archibald, who was nearly of the same age as Mrs. Bancroft.

knew she was not mistaken, and burst into a flood of tears. Mrs. Bancroft repeated what her father had told her, and was advised to rush into the parlor and surprise her uncle and aunt, for Master B. was there, and he was a host in her favor.

She acquiesced, following the woman to the parlor door, who waved her hand to her mistress, and said, "a benighted traveller begged lodging." Mrs. Bard answered, "Susy, you know we have no spare room." "Mistress she looks like a lady, and so young." "Let some one go with her to the farm house." "Oh mistress, just come and speak to her yourself." "Why do you persevere so, Susy?" "Oh dear, mistress, do come and see; she is so tired, besides so pretty." Mrs. Bard replied, "Susy you always manage to gain your point."

The niece now came forward, saying, “Madame, will you have the goodness to give me a shelter under your roof? Overcome with fatigue, I am too feeble to proceed further." Her voice and manner were impressive.

The aunt started, and sighed heavily. The whole company were attracted, as they were silent at the moment, for her young cousin had just been reproved, in their presence, for alluding to his Tory cousin. In his excited state, he grasped a heavy chair, and recognizing her voice, in a frenzy of joy, dashed it so forcibly that it broke against the wall. They saw it in time to escape the stroke or it would have levelled the three.

However, their screams alarmed the household, who all ran. The chair touched Susy's elbow and she fainted, and amid the consternation this hero exclaimed, "It is my own cousin Polly!" and he affectionately embraced her. He alone was regardless of the passing incident, and the whole was a most pathetic yet ludicrous scene. Their awakened sympathies subdued their displeasure. The transition was so sudden, from the severity of the rebuke addressed to the youth, to the most affectionate greeting of the wanderer. Here the offender's presence "lulled the angry passions into peace."

When the flurry had passed over, her dress was scrutinized, and queries arose, why in such a garb and alone? How was it possible for a female to travel from New York, and pass the different military stations? Circumstances seemed to confirm their opinion, that her condition was forlorn, that cross events and sorrow had induced her so rashly to encounter the hazardous journey, and hope only had buoyed her up, that as a repentant exile she could recover her foster-father's protecting care.

The only information they ever had was the story of the Doctor's marriage in Georgia. Even in primitive days ere telegraph wires were stretched to convey news from the Atlantic shores to the mountains, evil reports were borne on the wings of the wind, but they knew her high spirit must have passed through the furnace of affliction ere it was melted into such humility. Her destitution was evident, for she was meanly clad, and without a change of raiment. This conclusion rekindled their most ardent love, and, in pity, they vied with each other in kindness, resolving to let the unpleasant past be buried in oblivion, and to give her a cheerful welcome to the home of her youth, though events had separated them and made their paths in life so opposite.

After the excitement produced by the extraordinary scene had subsided, every one was anxious to know how a lonely female could travel the road in such wild and stirring times. Her physical strength was exhausted, but her mental energies were exhilarated by the deep interest manifested towards her. She began to recount her adventures, omitting that part which referred to the absent ones, and