Yorktown fell on the morning of the 17th, and a courier sped toward Philadelphia, crying, as he went: “Cornwallis is taken!” Bells rang, people cheered.
The messenger reached Philadelphia at night—“Cornwallis is taken!”
Windows opened. The citizens leaped from their beds. The bells rang on, and the city blazed with lights, and Congress gave way to transports of joy.
Dennis and Peter came riding back to the alarm-post, shouting by the way, “Cornwallis is taken!”
The Governor knelt down in the war office, and the people shouted without the silent place.
Peter could afford to be magnanimous now to his feeble old uncle. He hurried to the old man’s cabin and knocked at the door.
“I chop wood,” said a voice within.
“Uncle, it is Peter. Cornwallis has surrendered!”
The latch was lifted, and the wood-chopper appeared as one withered and palsied.