man, who commanded the reconnoitering party, of which I have before spoken; and when he had escorted me to the house where I was to remain, he turned back again.

"Some days after this we arrived at Albany, where we so often wished ourselves; but we did not enter it as we expected we should -victors! We were received by the good General Schuyler, his wife, and daughters, not as enemies, but kind friends; and they' treated us with the most marked attention and politeness, as they did General Burgoyne, who had caused General Schuyler's beautifully finished house to be burnt. In fact, they behaved like persons of exalted minds, who determined to bury all reccollections of their own injuries in the contemplation of our misfortunes. General Burgoyne was struck with General Schuyler's generosity, and said to him, 'You show me great kindness, though I have done you much injury.' 'That was the fate of war;' replied the brave man, 'let us say no more about it.''

LYDIA DARRAH.

THE following account of the signal service rendered to our cause by a heroine quakeress, Lydia Darrah, first appeared in the American Quarterly Review:

When the British army held possession of Philadelphia, General Harris' head-quarters were in Second street, the fourth door below Spruce, in a house which was before occupied by General Cadwallader. Directly opposite, resided William and Lydia Darrah, members of the Society of Friends. A superior officer of the British army, believed to be the Adjutant General, fixed upon

one of their chambers, a back room, for private conference; and two of them frequently met there, with fire and candles, in close consultation. About the second of December, the Adjutant General told Lydia that they would be in the room at seven o'clock, and remain late; and that they wished the family to retire early to bed; adding, that when they were going away, they would call her to let them out, and extinguish their fire and candles. She accordingly sent all the family to bed; but, as the officer had been so particular, her curiosity was excited. She took off her shoes, and put her ear to the key-hole of the conclave. She overheard an order read for all the British troops to march out, late in the evening of the fourth, and attack General Washington's army, then encamped at White Marsh. On hearing this, she returned to her chamber and laid herself down. Soon after, the officers knocked at her door, but she rose only at the third summons, having feigned to be asleep. Her mind was so much agitated that, from this moment, she could neither eat nor sleep; supposing it to be in her power to save the lives of thousands of her countrymen; but not knowing how she was to convey the necessary information to General Washington, nor daring to confide it even to her husband. The time left, was, however, short; she quickly determined to make her way, as soon as possible, to the American outposts. She informed her family, that, as they were in want of flour, she would go to Frankfort for some; her husband insisted that she should take with her the servant maid; but, to his surprise, she positively refused. She got access to General Howe, and solicited-what he readily granted,―a pass through the British troops on the lines. Leaving her bag at the mill, she hastened towards the American lines, and encountered

on her way an American, Lieutenant Colonel Craig, of the light

horse, who, with some of his men, was on the look-out for infor mation. He knew her, and inquired whither she was going She answered, in quest of her son, an officer in the American army; and prayed the Colonel to alight and walk with her. He did so, ordering his troops to keep in sight. To him she disclosed her momentous secret, after having obtained from him the most solemn promise never to betray her individually, since her life might be at stake, with the British. He conducted her to a house near at hand, directed a female in it to give her something to eat, and he speeded for head-quarters, where he brought General Washington acquainted with what he had heard. Washington made, of course, all preparation for baffling the meditated surprise. Lydia returned home with her flour; sat up alone to watch the movement of the British troops; heard their footsteps; but when they returned, in a few days after, did not dare to ask a question, though solicitous to learn the event. The next evening, the Adjutant General came in, and requested as he wished to put some questions. and when he locked the door, and begged her, with an air of mystery to be seated, she was sure that she was either suspected, or had been betrayed. He inquired earnestly whether any of her family were up the last night he and the other officer met:-she told him that they all retired at eight o'clock. He observed—“I know you were asleep, for I knocked at your chamber door three times before you heard me; I am entirely at a loss to imagine who gave Washington information of our intended attack, unless the walls of the house could speak. When we arrived near White Marsh, we found all their cannon mounted, and the troop prepared to receive us; and we have marched back like a parcel of fools."

her to walk up to his room, She followed him in terror;

CAPTURE OF PRESIDENT DAGGETT.

On the occasion of the invasion of New Haven, the Rev. Dr. Daggett, at that time president of Yale College, armed himself with a musket, and went out with his fellow citizens to oppose the enemy. He was wounded and taken prisoner. Whilst in the hands of the British he was asked, whether if released, he would again take up arms against them?—to which he answered, “I rather believe I shall, if I get an opportunity." We subjoin an account of his captivity, as given by himself.

"An account of the cruelties and barbarities which I received from the British soldiers, after I had surrendered myself a prisoner into their hands. It is needless to relate all the leading circumstances which threw me in their way. It may be sufficient just to observe, that on Monday morning, the 5th inst., (July 1779,) the town of New Haven was justly alarmed, with very threatening appearances of a speedy invasion from the enemy. Numbers went out armed to oppose them; I among the rest, took the station assigned me, upon Milford Hill, but was soon directed to quit it, and retire further north, as the motions of the enemy required. Having gone as far as I supposed was sufficient, I turned down the hill to gain a little covert of bushes, which I had in my eye; but to my great surprise, I saw the enemy much nearer than I expected, their advanced guards being little more than twenty rods distant, plain, open ground between us. They instantly fired upon me, which they continued until I had run a dozen rods, discharging not less than fifteen or twenty balls at me alone; however, through the preserving providence of God, I escaped them all unhurt, and gained the little covert at which I aimed, which

concealed me from their view, while I could plainly see them through the weeds and bushes, advancing towards me within about twelve rods. I singled out one of them, took aim, and fired upon him; I loaded my musket again, but determined not to discharge any more, and as I saw I could not escape from them, I determined to surrender myself a prisoner. I begged for quarter, and that they would spare my life. They drew near to me, I think two only in number, one on my right hand, the other on my left, the fury of infernals glaring in their faces. They called me a damned old rebel, and swore they would kill me instantly. They demanded, what did you fire upon us for? I replied, because it is the exercise of war. Then one made a pass at me with his bayonet, as if he designed to thrust it through my body. With my hand I tossed it up from its direction, and sprang in so near to him that he could not hurt me with his bayonet. I still continued pleading and begging for my life, with the utmost importunity, using every argument in my power to mollify them, and induce them to desist from their murderous purposes. One of them gave me four gashes on my head with the edge of his bayonet, to the skull bone, which caused a plentiful effusion of blood. The other gave me three slight pricks with the point of his bayonet, on the trunk of my body, but they were no more than skin deep. But what is a thousand times worse than all that has been related, is the blows and bruises they gave me with the heavy barrels of their guns on my bowels, by which I was knocked down once, or more, and almost deprived of life; by which bruises, I have been almost confined to my bed ever since. These scenes might take up about two minutes of time. They seemed to desist a little from their design of murder, after which they stript me of my shoes and knee buckles, and also my stock buckle. Their