Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 39, Number 89, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 July 1907 — THE SPY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE SPY

CHAPTER XX.— (Continued.) “Mount not! go not!" shrieked Franks; “can you tear a son from his parent? a brother from his sister, so coldly? Is this the cause I have so ardently V>red? Are these the men that I have teen taught to reverence? Colonel Singleton, you are a father! —pity—mercy —» mercy for the aon! mercy for the daughter! Yes—you had a daughter. On this bosom she poured out her last Ireath; these hands closed her eyes: these very hands, that are now clasped In prayer, did those offices for her that you condemn my poor, poor brother, to require." One mighty emotion the veteran strugjried with, and quelled; but with a groan ghat shook his whole frame. He even looked around in conscious pride at bis victory; but a second burst of feelings conquered. His head, white with the frost of seventy winters, sank upon the shoulder of the frantic suppliant. The sword that had been his companion in so many fields of blood dropped from bis ierveloS~luahd, khd as he crtedr “May God bless you for the deed!" he arept aloud. Long and violent was the Indulgence that Colonel Singleton yielded to his feelings. On recovering he gave the senseless Frances into the arms of her aunt, and, turning with an air of fortitude to ftls comrades, he said: -•• _ “Still, gentlemen, we have our duty as officers to discharge—our feelings as men may be indulged hereafter. What is your pleasure with the prisoner?” One of the judges placed in his hand a written sentence, that he had prepared while the colonel was engaged • with Frances, and declared it to be the opinion sf himself and his companion. It briefly stated that Henry Wharton bad been detected in passing the lines of the American army as a spy, and in disguise. That thereby, according to the laws of war, he was liable to suffer death, and that this court adjudged him •o the penalty, recommending him to be executed by hanging before nine o’clock sn the following morning.

CHAPTER XXI. A few hours were passed by the prisoner. after his sentence was received, In the bosom of his family. Mr. Wharton •wept in hopeless despondency over the untimely fate of his son ; and Frances, after recovering from her insensibility, experienced an anguish of feeling to which the bitterness of death itself would have fceen comparatively light. Miss Peyton alone retained a vestige of hope, founded In a kind of instinctive dependence on the character of Washington. lie was a native of the same colony with herself, lie was known in Virginia as a consist- — ent. but just and lenient, master: and she felt a kind of pride in associating in her mind her countryman with the man ■who led the armies, and in a great measure controlled the destinies of America. But even her confiding hopes were doomed to meet with a speedy termination. Toward noon, a regiment of militia, that •was quartered on the banks of the river, moved up to the ground in front of the house that held our heroine and her family, and deliberately pitched their tents, ■with the avowed intention of remaining until the following morning, to give solemnity and effect to the execution of a British spy. Dunwoodie had performed all that was acquired of him by his orders, and was at liberty to retrace his steps to his expecting squadron, which was impatiently , waiting his return, to be led against a detachment of the enemy, that was known to be slowly moving up the banks of the river, in order to cover a party of foragers in its roar. He was accompanied by m small party of Imwton’s troop, under the expectation that their testimony might be required to convict the prisoner. But the confession of Captain Wharton had removed the necessity of examining any witnesses. The major, from an unwillingness to encounter the distress of Henry's friends, and a dread of trusting himself within its influence, had spent the time in walking by himself, in keen anxiety, at a short distance from the dwelling. While laboring under constantly recuring doubts, enlivened by tranaient rays of hope. Mason approached, accoutered completely for the saddle. “Thinking that you might have forgotten the news brought this morning from below, sir, 1 have taken the liberty to order the detachment under arms," said the lieutenant. “John Bull is out in Westchester, with a train of wagons which, if he fills, will compel us to retire through these hills in search of provender.” "Where did the express leave them?” “On the hrights above Sing Sing,” returned the lieutenant. “Ob! that the courier was returned from headquarters!" exclaimed Dunwoodie. “This suspense is insupportable.” “Yon have your wish.” cried Mason; "here be is at the moment, and riding Hke the bearer of good news.” Dunwoodie leaped the fence and stood before the messenger. “What news?” cried the major, the moment that the soldier stopped his borse. “Good!” exclaimed the man; and feeling no hesitation to intrust an officer so well known as Major Dunwoodie, be placed a paper in his hands. Dunwoodie paused not to read, but llew, with the elastic spring of joy. to the chamber of the prisoner. The sentinels knew him, and he was suffered to pass without question. “Oh! Peyton," cried France*, as be entered the apartment, “you look like a messenger from heaven!" bring you tiding* of mercy?” “Here, France*—here, Henry—here, deer cousin Jeannette,” cried the youth, as with trembling hands he broke the neal; “here is the letter itself, directed to the captain of the guard. But listen— ~ All did listen with intense anxiety; and the pang of blasted hope was added to their misery, as they saw the gins- of dhlight which had beamed on the counteHWt of the major give place to a look

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER

A STORY OF THE REVOLUTION

of horror. The paper contained the sentence of the court, and underneath was written these simple words: “Approved—Geo. Washington." “He’s lost! he’s, lost!” cried Frances, sinking Into the arms of her aunt. “My son! my son!” sobbed the father, “there is mercy in heaven, if there is none on earth. May Washington never want that mercy he thus denies to my innocent child!” “Washington !” echoed Dunwoodie. gating around him in vacant horror. "Yes, 'tis the act of Washington himself ; these are his characters; his very name is here, to sanction the dreadful deed." “Cruel, cruel Washington!” cried Miss Peyton; “how has bis familiarity with blood changed his natural” “Blame him not,” said Dunwoodie; “it is the general, and not the life on it he feels the blow he is compelled to inflict." “I have been deceived in him,” cried Frances. “He is not the savior of his country, but a cold and merciless tyrant. Oh ! Peyton, Peyton ! bowhave you “misled me fn his character!” “Peace, dear Frances; use not such language. He is liut the guardian of the law." “You speak the truth, Major Dunwoodie," said Henry. "I, who am to suffer, blame him not. Every indulgence has been granted me that Lean ask. On the verge of the grave. T~cannot continue~~BlF~ just. At such a moment, with so recent an instance of danger to your cause from treason, I wonder not at Washington’s unbending justice. Nothing now remains but to prepare for that fate which so speedily awaits me. To you, Major Dunwoodie, I make my first request.” “Name it,” said the major, giving utterance with difficulty. “Be a son to this aged man; help his weakness, and defend him from any usage to which the stigma thrown upon me may subject him. And this helpless innocent,”

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