military career seemed now at an end. He had served his country gallantly and faithfully for ten years, and, laying his honors meekly on the national altar, returned to his homestead, and once more peacefully followed the plow.

The obnoxious Stamp Act was warmly opposed by Putnam. He was one of the most active in preventing the circulation of the objectionable paper. In 1766 the act was ungraciously repealed, and Putnam once more resumed his agricultural labors; but the agitation which had been provoked by the folly of the English government was not destined to die ingloriously. It was perfectly understood that, although the government had abandoned its position from outside pressure, it did not surrender what it conceived to be a right. These matters were warmly discussed in the various states, and still more hotly in the principal cities. Putnam made frequent visits to Boston, and was known as one in whom perfect confidence might be placed when the hour of trial should arrive. On the 19th of April, 1775, the news of the battle of Lexington was carried to Putnam as he was laboring in the field. He left his plow standing in the furrow, threw himself across one of the team, and, without a moment's delay, hurried to the scene of action, without even waiting to change his clothes. Two days later he attended a council of war at Cambridge, and throughout the struggle which now commenced, took an active command. At Bunker Hill the coolness and intrepidity of his action contributed in a large measure to the glory of the American cause. It is supposed, and with every show of reason, that he had entire command of the forces on this occasion.

The incidents of our glorious struggle have been .so often rehearsed, and belong so essentially to history, that in a biography of this brief kind it would scarcely be desirable to repeat them. The great hero was Washington, and whom he honored we honor. From the first Putnam secured the respect and confidence of this great man, and was frequently complimented in General Orders. Not only did he bring invincible courage and patriotism to the cause of his country, but, what was almost of equal importance in those dark days, he possessed rare tact-the faculty of making insufficient means abundantly satisfactory. An illustration will suffice. Captain Macpherson, a Scotch officer of the seventeenth British regiment, had received, in the battle of Princeton, a severe wound, which every one thought would prove fatal. Putnam visited the

wounded prisoner, procured surgical assistance, administered to his comforts, and solaced him in the apparent hour of death. Contrary to every prognostication, the captain recovered; but, prior to this, in the darkest hour of his suffering, he made a request to Putnam that a friend in the British army might be permitted to come and aid him in the preparation of his will. The general was involved in great perplexity. On the one hand, he was charitably anxious to gratify the dying prisoner; on the other, he was very unwilling that an officer from the enemy's camp should spy out his own weakness. His presence of mind and natural shrewdness helped him out of the difficulty in an extremely amusing way. A flag of truce was dispatched, with orders not to return with the captain's friend until after dark. "By the time of his arrival lights were displayed in all the apartments of the College Hall, and in all the vacant houses in the town; and the army, which then consisted of fifty effective men, were marched about with remarkable celerity, sometimes in close column, and sometimes in detachments, with unusual pomp and circumstance, around the quarters of the captain. It was subsequently ascertained, as we are assured by Colonel Humphreys, that the force of Putnam was computed by the framer of the will, on his return to the British camp, to consist, on the lowest estimate, of five thousand men." It is in emergencies of this kind that the native genius of a man displays itself. Decision and firmness of character were ever manifest in all that Putnam undertook to perform. We will give an instance where these qualities were displayed in a tragic manner. Edmund Palmer, a lieutenant in a Tory regiment, had been discovered in the American camp. To avert the fate of a spy, the commander of the British forces sent a flag of truce to Putnam, claiming the prisoner as a British officer, and intimating that his execution would be attended with serious consequences. Putnam returned the flag with the following characteristic and perfectly dramatic note:

"Head-quarters, 7th August, 1777. "Edmund Palmer, an officer in the enemy's service, was taken as a spy lurking within our lines; he has been tried as a spy, condemned as a spy, and shall be executed as a spy, and the flag is ordered to depart immediately.

"ISRAEL PUTNAM.

“P.S.—He has been accordingly executed."

The only reverse which Putnam ever met with, in his singularly eventful life, was at Fort Montgomery, which, owing to insufficient support, he was compelled to abandon to the enemy. The subsequent movements were not in accordance with the orders of the commander-in-chief, and Washington consequently expressed some dissatisfaction with Putnam. A Congressional inquiry was made into the matter, and, in deference to public clamor, he was, for a time, superseded in his command. This, however, did not dampen his ardor. He returned to Connecticut, raised new levies, and displayed all his old activity. About this time he was the hero of a well-known exploit. One day, while visiting his outposts at West Greenwich, he was surprised by Governor Tryon with a corps of fifteen hundred men. Putnam had only a hundred and fifty men and two pieces of artillery to defend himself against this overpowering force. With these, he took his station on the brow of a steep declivity. As the British advanced, they were received with a sharp fire from the artillery; but, perceiving the dragoons about to charge, Putnam ordered his men to retire to a swamp inaccessible to cavalry, while he himself forced his horse directly down the precipice. His pursuers, who were close upon him, were horror-stricken at the audacity of the thing, and paused breathlessly until he was out of danger. The declivity, from this circumstance, has since borne the name of Putnam's Hill.

During the campaign of 1779, which terminated General Putnam's military career, he commanded the Maryland line. Being stationed two miles below West Point, at Buttermilk Falls, he directed the principal part of his attention to strengthening the works of that important fortress. In December, when the American army went into winter-quarters at Morristown, New Jersey, he obtained leave of absence to visit his family for a few weeks. As he was journeying toward Hartford, on his way back to Morristown, his progress was arrested by an attack of paralysis, by which the use of his limbs on one side was lost. He was unwilling to admit the real character of the disease, and endeavored, by vigorous exercise, to throw off the torpidity. The effort was unavailing, and for the remainder of his eventful life he was an invalid. On the 17th of May, 1790, he was suddenly attacked His reby an inflammatory disease, and two days later died. mains were borne to the grave with the usual ceremonies due to

a distinguished military commander, and a feeling eulogy was pronounced on the occasion. He was consoled in the last few years of his life with the knowledge that the cause which he had espoused with such signal ardor and intrepidity had triumphed, and that he had been one of the humble instruments in the hands of a divine Providence to raise a down-trodden colony to the dignity and glory of a great nation.

JOHN PRIDEAUX.

THE story of John Prideaux, a quaint fragment of early biography, affords at once an instructive lesson, and an amusing insight into an early period of English history. Prideaux was born on the 17th of December, 1578, at Stowford, near Plymouth, England. His father was in moderate circumstances, but, owing to the requirements of a large family, was unable to supply his sons with liberal educations. John, who was the fourth, In spite of this drawback,

was merely taught to read and write. he was soon destined to enter on public life. The parish clerk of Ugborough, a village about five miles from Stowford, had died, and his office was still vacant. John Prideaux was gifted with a fine voice, and, in spite of his youth, determined on applying for the situation. There was another competitor in the field--an experienced man, who had canvassed the village in a thoroughly business-like way. The parishioners determined on giving the rivals a fair trial, and arranged that one of the competitors should give out the psalms in the morning, and the other in the afternoon, and that the place should be given to the candidate who was most approved by the congregation. The result was what might have been expected-experience carried the day; the parishioners decided in favor of Prideaux's rival. It was fortunate that it so happened. In later days he used to say, "If I could have been parish clerk of Ugborough, I never should have been Bishop of Worcester." But the disappointment was a trying one, and bruised his young heart. There was a kind old lady in the village who observed the earnestness of his sorrow, and sympathized with it. She comforted the poor young fellow, and told him that "God might design him for greater things, and therefore he ought not to lament having failed in his recent attempt." She did more than this; she placed him at the grammar-school, and maintained him there until he had acquired some knowledge of Latin and the higher branches of a solid education. A very kind and sensible gentlewoman was Mistress Fowell.

Prideaux's thirst for knowledge was now thoroughly aroused;