And the widest of eyes grew wider,
While on towards the porch, like a tempest,
Came sweeping the horse and its rider;
And now from the din of the hoof-beats
A trumpet voice leapt out,
And, tingling to its rafters,
The church was alive with the shout,—
“Burgoyne’s at Ticonderoga:
Would you have the old fort surrender?”
“No, no!” cried the parson; “New Hampshire