Democratic Sentinel, Volume 21, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 August 1897 — CYDIA. [ARTICLE]

CYDIA.

New I rk Tribune. V» Leu the Barrington s tiled out the paper" wfaLu entitled them to join the 'Oc.etyor tl.t D ugnters of the Revolution lavty iiiiMMre Barrington jut as abby book n a j-aekag- of ya llow le.ters into the h.,nds of her eon’s wife “We he r i..uch talk just now „bo it the < minis ci cur ancestors toconsixlei.ition," »iie said. 'lt seems to me t iat the women of ' hose day.- possess also some light to oui remem' ru.ee. «his journal and these letters were gnen to m< in trust, by mi Lust >nd s> mother, b I give them to y->u. They huv. i een reael by my daughters ami mu-t be read by yours. They contain tue story of a rea ‘aaughter of the revolution,' and ar to remain a heirloom .n her family so long a-- the paper on which they are written will hold together." And this is the story:

Mistress Lydia Barrington was eighteen whew the lighting of that lamp in the belfry of the Old North church in Boston set ablaze the lire with which our countiy burned its ancient fettersHer home Was one of those s atelycolonial houses, whose pill irudpor 1c s trout tie Delaware river between I’hiladelphia and Wilmington. Her father, from thi outbre a of the Resolution, was among its ta chest supporter-. 11 hid been a soldier in his youth and had snuggled tbro' itraddoek’s disa. trous campaign beside Washington. But in hi- middle age, and w hen his countiy needed him so sorely, an incurable iriaiad,. heid f irn prisoner, and he sent his only son to represent him on the stuff of his old comrade.

When thr British captured I’hiladelphia they ravaged his estate, and laid every resource under constant contribution Yet they respected that grim wardtr, death, who watched the patriot’s door, and they permitted his departure from house and lands to be postponed until that summons which none can dis: bey Barrington's wife rarely left him, and the ordering of their household fell into the cavabio pair of hands of their daugh tor Lydia. She brewed, and she baked, nnd sho spii . She managed t h dairy and supervised tha poultry yard, as became the mistress of a lurge and isolated establishment in those days But the while her thoughts and Lor prayers were for her country’s strife with the sama ardor which kept her father alive until he sho d beheld that country’s freedom.

Barrington mare- was set in the midst of thellovelyd stxml across which, back ward and forward, the tide of war swept continually 'ow the beloved blue co.its were warmed at its firesides at. o welcomed to every comfort it could enj ply. Th*i the abhorred redcoats clamored for the hospitality which would have Leon taken by force ad it been refused. Thus it happened that no surprise, tho’ much reluctance, stirred the he art of M istress Lydia, when, nan autumn ftcr noon, she was summoned as her mother's deputy, to receive aßritish officer so des perateh wounded in a near skirmish that his troops,h dared not carry him further A dozen soarlet-clud horsemen waited under the lopfleas trees of the avenue, and Captain Pelham lay, supported by n com r.ide’s arms, upon tho topmost stop of tLe portico. » He hadibeen shot nearthe lungs and was speechless, but he was conscious, and his letters bear passionate record that from the moment she appeared within the high colonial doorway ho became Mrs. Lydia's prisoner forever, as well as her patient for rjtime. A time which proved to be for him and for her that brief stay in para Iso which ?. tender old proverb promises, once in a life to each chi d of Eve!

Through the ensuing winter, which was the winter of Valley Forge. Captain Pelham dwelt in the guo t chan b E r at Barrington manor. Ho was visited occasionally, when the moveunuts of the American troops permitted, by his brother, who was a member of Lord Howe's stall, and by an eminent surgeon from Philadelphia For the most part, however, according to the custom of one hundred years ago, he remained the charge of his young hostess. Outside was cold and hunger, the dead ly strife of those dear to both, the hope o a struggling people sinking almost to despair. But within was love that made happy the present and assured the future with the fervor of their youth and the conviction of their mutual faith. When he was able tow.dk so far Capt Pelham nade his way to that othjr sick room where Lydia’s f.ither lay dying and told his story. It was kindly heard Endowed with the clear tolerance which the neighborhood of death bestows on some just souls, Barrington promised his daugh ■ te to her British lover when ths war between their factions should be ended—who-, aver cause victory might adorn. Spring, though long delayed that year, arrived all too swiftly for those two. • Palham was conv losoent . His brother came no more. The surgeon’s visits had ceased; Lord Howe desired him to resume command of his troops. Yet a few d=»ys and he must depart, unknowing when he could ret rn to cluim his bride. It was at this time that Ly ia one midnight, wakefully confronting the clouds which overhung tho future, was hurriedly called by her mother to her father’s bedside. He lav propped up among pillows, and he spoke with difficulty as he bade his daughter draw near. But she perceived that anxiety rather than p in oppressed him while he expressed hie need of her.

Owing to the situation of the manor' on the territory disputed by both a.mies, they w. re not unused to tidings by secret messengers from the younger Barrington in the American camp. The messenger, who Lad been received half an hour since, was, however, the herald of a visitor whose safety during Lis stay would be of vital importance to the infant nation, for whose existence his life was the guarantee. Washington himself desired to see his former comrade in the ensuing night, to ake counsel with him concerning certain measures whereupon he and his imme 1ate advisers were at variance. “The danger is great,” Barrington said, wistfully regarding his daughter. “Yet less great than at first : t seems Your moth r and you can contrive that none ottn. r shall guess his pres, nee here. Evei should our servants discover what guest is with us we can rely upon them not f betray him. I here remains Captain Pelham, who " “For him I answe', ” Mistress Lydia interrupted haughtily. “His honor is mine own. “Nay, my child, there might be in his mind tome uncertainty as to which way his honor directs. “Shame, father!” she cried. “You who knew so well that the instinct of a gentleman’s honor is as caitain as is that wondrous needle to whose guidance sailors trust!"

And Barrington, infected by the enthusiasm of herbrigh eyes, a'quies ed. The following day would be that on which a market was held weekly t all tie village within tie British lines, where i’hil idelphia trade -men brought such goods as tiie farmers could not supply tiom their own resources It had been ist c s 1 ydi -’e custom when the road were ode. to visit this market att to tided by Augustus, n old n gro servant, and it was agr. ed b t w • n h r mi her father that, to a'art usp .non of] uu .suai anticipation, he should j rocee ihithet on tee mo. row. Ac ordingly, she wa arrayed for thit exj edition when she so g-it Captain Pelham o>: the terr ico in t e next morning’s early unshipe. A fair pi<-tur she m ide in i erdark green h ib.twith brass buttons and|nei|large many-jiluni- 1h it a picture he i escribed with tender st detail years afterward. She foun l him pale a< d despondent as she hungover his armchair, lo ath to leave bin for one of th- few hours which remained of hi - stay at the auor. :ut he sent her resolutelv from him giving her a letter for his brother, as was his wont on these market days—a letter which she was to deliver to n trooper who would b <li- tolled to receive it Shi rode forth, while Augustus, mon lied on a tall hoise a id carrying a huge

baski t paced soberly bebin t. spring rains had broken the avenue into alternate -ourses of mud and water, and, sshe bent io lift her habit yet fuitiiei from the probable splash ng, Pelha ’file ter slipped from her waistband. V ith sue haste as years and stoutness permitted, Augus us'descended from Lis saddle and restored the p icket io 1 er, Al-s, it was we: and stained! “It will be the d lay of merely ten minutes to return and bid C aptain Pelhamto address a: other wrapper, she murmured, gl dot this excuse to behold the welcome in her lovei’s eves. She tore off .he drenched envelope hurricilly, ies the damp should have penetrated, an looked at the in losure witl keen daintiness. Her look hanged Her color faded Her lips sot sternly. Happiness went out of Ly.lia Barrington’s life while she stared at the letter confided to her transmis ion by the man for whose honor she had pledged her own, Yet. presently s e lifted her jiead, and, turning her horse toward tha manor, she ro e up the avenue at a speed Augustus found difficult tv emulate

be-ide the high oak chimney in the entrance hull stood ... ’• ssive Writin ■ table lhero sho tore I’elham’s letter to tiny pieces and sealedthem ch efitily within a tiesh envelo e upon which she inscribed his name Explain to Captain Pelham the mis chance to his packet, she said; though her lips where white her voice did not falter. “Inform my mother that I have ridden forth again unattended. Ask her to prevent my father from bearing th >t I have done so until I return.”

Of that bitter journey, which led h rby dcv'ous ways thro’ rough country InneH, <1; ngerous alike from marauding b »ndß of J fiends or foes, there is slight mention in 1. i journal. Nor is there m re than the more statement that she reached W ns.iingto s presen e and delivered the warning she hud brought. I told him ,hat our roof sheltered a S PI. she wrote; “t at I knew not how far his treachery extended, but that the visit with which the general intended to honor my father must be abandoned. I f-jund him, she aelded. briefly, “so courteous in trusting my information and in abstaining from questions as shui 1 make my memory S' er ratofnl to him.” i\ ien I informed him f thvtieacherv of our guest and how I bad been enabled to warn the noble man whom thuttreachry would have doomed, my f .therdrew me down wit in his arms.* see w ote and tho tear blisters sl ow upon those after more than a huudred’vears. “My f .thcr Id s-od mo. “The bon ir of our iam ■ has iilenys been well guarded,” ho s id, but it has never beo t safer than with'von, my daughter! Go, now, and nd your wretch.- d level farewell.” Mis te. Lydia has recorded every

slightest detail of that final mt eting with Captain Pelham o which her father sent her as the gh imrml'ed .v terror of the future, i’i v i ich lo r it reprcach disdain w! ty. They me m me withdrawing room, I where a pair cf candles an<. a dying fire made flickering 1 ght. There thoss two gazed at each others pale faces with eyes through which humiliation and scorn burned that passion whiich could survive oi her. “ i he one grace you con'd hav.i bestowed upon the house who-e shelter’you desired to betray was to leave it when your treachery had been discovered,” she said; “yet yon are hero!” “Could you conceive that I would do l part before your return?” | “How should I conceive correctly the moods or motives of a spy?” “ Twelve hours ago you oved mo!” “I never loved vou, Captain Pel_am. - Tha man I loved was the creaticn of my >.ri ams “ “ l ake not th past from me! You loved me—me!” he cried sinking to his knees. “What I have done was for love of you—to bring earer the da ■ when I might claim you-nay, but you shall listen! With that great ebel free, the war which parts us may dragon for years. Wth him a prisoner, his cause would; fail! Peace would come, and with its coming I sho’d win inv wife!” “Your wife, whom you would hi ve dishonored bv makm - her the unco cl>>us means through which you bctru.o i her f.ther's friend!” I never intended you io guess my sh ire in his capture, nor could dishonor reach you i “No. God be thanked! Not so much as by the tou h of vour fingers!” sh said, withdrawing from his grasp the fold o her habit skirt

She walked to the door. There sho looked back. 8 ill kneeling, Pelh mhi l i g his arms acros3 a table and la d hi b upon them. She returned swiftly tohifn. She drew his fair, bowed bead to he; bosom and passionately kisse I his white f c«, wet with a man’ agonizingjtears “ I lie.’,” she gasped. “I love yon—you al a s—you eternally- as vou love me. In so much falsehood t sis truth! Y t better the width of the world between us than that you should read daily in ■ ine eyes th' memory of yeur dishonor and so farewell! ” There are ther records in that journal of Mistress Lydia s—her father’s death—her mother's grief, the triumph of that cans - for whose safety this. Daughterjof the Revolution paid so dear a price but no further mention of her lover. Yet the dozen letters whio.i were f. und after her death treasured with the history O’ her youth ire all signed with Pelh m’s name. Tendores', most revere t f love letters, they cover a space oi* as many years, and closa with one wh. e frail characters bear witness to their wiiter’s words.

“I am nc-ar t'-e end now, sweet foist -ess! The eud which is to he th be inning.” Pelham wrote “It will not seem long whon I come to meet you in that country which belongs obotbofus. I hat country where each penitent r eeives pardon, aril where you will not turn aw y from him who, with all his sius, has been ever your loyal lover.”