“Our bugles sound gayly. To horse and away!
And over the mountains breaks the day;
Then ho! brothers, ho! for the ride or the fight,
There are deeds to be done ere we slumber
to-night!
And whether we fight or whether we fall
By saber-stroke or rifle ball,
The hearts of the free will remember us yet,
And our Country, our Country will never forget.”
—Rossiter Worthington Raymond.
It was not until morning that the farmer and his nephew succeeded in getting control of the fire. When at length it was extinguished only a few charred timbers remained of the lean-to, and the dwelling itself was badly damaged. A heap of ashes marked the spot where the barn had stood, and the scene was one of desolation. The day had come, but there was no glory in the sunshine. The dank smell of early morning rose from the dew-drenched earth, but its freshness and fragrance were marred by the overpowering odor of smoke, and wet, charred wood. In the countless trees of the forest the birds were singing, but their songs fell upon unheeding ears. To the inmates of the farmhouse instead of melody the pines whispered a message of menace and despair.
“And now,” spoke Fairfax Johnson, as Thomas Ashley declared that there was no further danger of fire, “now I am going to see what hath become of my mother.”
“And I’ll go with you, nevvy. You must not think me hard and unfeeling, boy, but just now, when men are so scarce, we cannot afford to lose one unnecessarily. To have gone out to those men would have been certain death for you, and your mother did the best thing that could have been done. To be a patriot demands a great deal of us. To die is a small matter, but how we die is much. Your work is not finished. Until it is, nevvy, your life is not yours to lose needlessly. It belongs to the country. Even though Hannah be captured, it would not follow that aught of harm would come to her. She is a woman. But come!”
“Peggy,” whispered Sally, “Friend Ashley reminds me of Brutus.”
“Yes,” answered Peggy gazing after Fairfax with misty eyes. “Duty to country is first, of course; but sometimes when the heart is torn with anguish over the sacrifice of a loved one it doth seem that duty asks too much of us. Oh, Sally! Sally! will peace ever come? Will the country ever be aught but torn and disrupted by warfare? I cannot bear it.”
“Don’t, Peggy,” came from Sally sharply.
Mrs. Ashley, who was moving about the fire preparing breakfast, came to them quickly. She gave each girl a gentle kiss, and a soft pat, saying: