Peggy Owen and Liberty

by Lucy Foster Madison

But Monday morning brought a clouded and softened sky; a brisk south wind arose, and the rain came driving. By Tuesday the wind had increased to a heavy gale, and the rain came with violence from the southwest. The snow-drifts that had been so white and fair became yellow, and smirched, and muddy, and lost their curves and lines. The roads were troughs of slush and water, impassable for any sort of vehicle. In spite of this condition of things Fairfax Johnson insisted that the maidens should be taken to Trenton.

“Why, son, ’twould be monstrous to send them forth in such weather,” remonstrated his mother. “They would get drenched.”

“Better that than to stay here,” he declared, but his uncle interposed:

“’Twould never do, nevvy. You couldn’t get as far as Freehold with the roads as they are. The rain won’t last more than a few days; and if it keeps us in it works the same with the raiders by keeping them out. They won’t venture into Monmouth County until the weather changes. They know too well the danger of the quagmires. We must bide our time, nevvy.”

And with this the lad was forced to content himself. For three days the rain continued, and with its ceasing every vestige of snow had disappeared, leaving conditions worse than ever. The roads were very soft and heavy, and most perilous where they crossed the marshes. Even the youth acknowledged that travel with a wagon was utterly out of the question. But he himself managed to ride into Freehold daily that he might meet with his company, and begin preparations to take the field as soon as offensive operations by the raiders were resumed.

So the days went by, but they were pleasant and busy ones for Peggy and Sally. True to their resolve to accept with cheerfulness whatever befell, their gay spirits softened and enlivened the gloom which might otherwise have settled upon the family. The mornings were devoted to housework and cookery; the afternoons to quilting the homespun bed-quilt which Sally had noticed in the frames on the night of their arrival. In the evenings all gathered about the great fireplace and indulged in such recreations as the farmhouse afforded. The girls had each set a pair of stockings upon the needles which they declared were for Fairfax, and, much to his embarrassment, he was called upon every evening to note the progress of the work. After the fashion of the time the name, Fairfax, and the date, 1782, were knit in the threads.

Soon the raw winds of March gave place to softer ones which blew caressingly from the south, dispelling all fear of frost. The soft wet of the ground disappeared under the balmy sunshine, and the air was a fount of freshness. The glad earth reveled under the warmth of the sun, and hill and valley, wood and meadow, blossomed under the touch of spring.

Along the Hudson, Washington gathered his forces for a final campaign, for not yet would England consent to terms of peace, and urged with entreaty upon the states the need of men and supplies. But with resources drained, and rendered apathetic by the long years of fighting, the country believed that the crisis had passed, and so responded slowly to the appeals of their leader. Each state had its own troubles that demanded attention, and the general welfare was lost sight of in the specific need. In New Jersey particularly, rent as it was by the internecine warfare, nothing was talked or thought but the putting down of its own individual enemies. As soon as the weather permitted the attacks of the loyalists were renewed with increased virulence. It was as though these people realized that with the coming of peace nothing would remain for them but expatriation, and so were determined to leave behind them naught but desolation.

And to stay this lawlessness the young captain with his company rode hither and thither over the county, pursuing the raiders with so much zeal and intrepidity that their rancor was aroused toward him. There came a day when Fairfax did not return in the evening as was his custom. Far away from the south-eastern part of the county had come the alarm that the refugees, under the leadership of Frank Edwards—a notorious desperado loyalist—had come down from Sandy Hook, and were approaching the neighborhood of Cedar Creek. Upon receipt of the intelligence the young captain had immediately set forth to prevent their marauding progress into the interior. A sharp skirmish took place which resulted in victory for the Monmouth defenders, and when at length they reëntered Freehold, they bore with them the notorious Edwards, a prisoner, together with a majority of his Tory band. Thomas Ashley was jubilant when the youth arrived with the news.