"Is he alive now, papa?" asked Ned.
"Oh, no, my son; he died in 1798—a hundred years ago. At that time we were threatened with a war with France, and Washington, appointed to the chief command of our armies, sent to Colonel Lee to inquire for Champe, intending to make him a captain of infantry. But it was too late; the brave and gallant soldier had gone to another world."
"Dear man! I hope he went to heaven!" exclaimed Little Elsie in quivering tones.
"I hope so," responded her father.
There was a moment of silence, presently broken by Ned. "Papa, you know you promised to tell about Nathan Hale; please won't you do it now?"
"I will," replied the captain. "He was a fine, brave, good young man; described as very handsome—six feet tall, perfectly proportioned, light-blue eyes beaming with intelligence, roseate complexion, and soft light-brown hair. He was overflowing with good humor, and always ready to help anyone in distress. He received a good education, his father wishing him to enter the ministry; but he was teaching school in New London when the news of the Battle of Lexington came. A town meeting was at once held, and Hale was one of the speakers. He urged prompt action, saying, 'Let us march immediately, and never lay down our arms until we have obtained our independence.'
"He took part in the siege of Boston, and was made a captain in January, 1776. He went to New York and did good service there. Early in the fall, in response to a call from General Washington, he volunteered to enter the British lines and procure intelligence. Disguised as a schoolmaster and loyalist, he visited all of the British camps on Long Island and in New York, openly making observations, drawings, and memoranda of fortifications. When he had about finished his work, he was seized by the British and taken before Sir William Howe. On the evidence of papers found in his shoes, he was condemned as a spy, and Sir William ordered him to be hanged. He asked for a Bible, but it was refused him, nor would they let him see a minister. He had written letters to his sisters and to his betrothed, but his cruel captors destroyed them before his eyes. That last was done by William Cunningham—one of the most notoriously cruel Tories of the war. He afterward gave as his reason for that act of cruelty that he meant the rebels should never know they had a man who could die with such firmness.
"As Hale mounted the scaffold he said,'You are shedding the blood of the innocent; if I had a thousand lives I would lay them down in the defence of my injured, bleeding country'; and his last words were, 'I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.'
"A country that may well remember him with love and pride," said
Grandma Elsie.
"Oh, what wicked, wicked things they do in war times!" sighed Little
Elsie.