set about clearing the table. As she passed me a low voice said:

"Danger! Get away from here." I had sufficient self-control to show no immediate concern; but I soon arose and said I must be going. My host demurred to this and refused to put a price on my meal, so I threw down two shillings and walked to the door.

As I stepped through it the two young men closed with me, while from behind I felt the farmer's strong arms go round me; and, my furious struggles availing me nothing, I was soon lying bound in a corner. My host stood over me, grinning. "We've got you now, you d――d British spy," said the patriot of ten minutes before.

The men held a conference at the door; I could, now and then, hear the word "Willcocks ;" and then one of the boys unhitched a horse and set off on a gallop, while the father sat down in the yard where he could watch me and began whittling to pass the time. The girl, with a heightened colour, continued her work. Hearing me groaning at my thews, she stepped to my side, apparently to give me some ease; but she said, her lips scarcely moving:

"Trust me; where are your despatches?"

It came upon me as an inspiration that here was a loyal soul that would be faithful to the death; and when, a moment later, my guard came charging down the room and profanely ordered her to get home out of that, the despatches were in her keeping.

"Better get out of here," he repeated in a less unkindly tone, as she flushed under his oaths. 66 There is likely to be a hanging bee here shortly, and I guess you wouldn't enjoy it much, seeing as how you and your folks still swear by crazy old King George."

Without a word she turned and left the house.

The morning hours seemed interminable, but high noon came at last, and with it the clinking of arms without. Then there was a heavy step on the floor, and Willcocks stood over me.

A wintry smile played about his fea

tures.

"Well, my dear John," he said, 66 we meet again you see.

"We

To this I made no answer. He stirred me with his foot. will find you a tongue presently," he remarked.

He sat regarding me with that hateful smile on his features until Boerstler came in. Then he spoke, and his voice, even in its oiliness, told of the rancour of personal hatred and the lust for vengeance.

"John Henry, you were yesterday discovered within our lines and are liable to the penalty of death. But if you will deliver to me the despatches you bear and give us such information as we may desire touching the forces at Fort Erie, it may not go so hard with you."

Despite my extremity I laughed in his face. The despatches then were safe; the girl was true. And being thus assured, the bitterness of death passed.

I made no reply to Willcock's mingled entreaty and threat; and subsequent enquiries having no better success, a detachment of men was called in and a rigourous search for the despatches begun, in the course of which my clothes were all but torn from off They even pried my jaws apart, thinking that the obstinate silence which I maintained might be due to my having the document in my mouth.

me.

Their failure to find the despatches evidently nonplussed them, for they went outside and conferred, returning again and again to the attack with no better success, though they sought to force me to speak by the primitive torture of applying their heavy cavalry boots to my sides until I expected nothing less than the breaking of my ribs.

To their inability to get the information, which was evidently regarded of prime importance, I owed my life. Had they secured it a tomahawk would have been dropped through my brain and they would have ridden off in high spirits; but as it was they would not

admit failure, and it was not until the lengthening of the shadows told of approaching night that Willcocks owned defeat, and called out angrily: "Since the dog won't speak, let's hang him and get back to camp."

I was instantly seized and hurried out to a huge oak in the door-yard. A trooper threw a rope over a branch; and while it was being tied about my neck I turned one long despairing gaze on earth and sky and forest.

As I looked westward where the sun was dipping under the tree-tops, I seemed to see horses' heads come rushing out of the sunset; and behind were stern set faces ablaze with the light of battle. Was it a phantasm to mock my dying eyes?

The rope tightened; a thousand pangs wrenched my nerves; my breast heaved in its desperate gasp for air; blood burst from my nostrils-but through all my agony I heard the roar of a British cheer.

Consciousness came slowly back and I opened my eyes to see kindly faces above me, while all about were British dragoons. As they picked me up to put me on a horse before a stalwart rider, I saw an American trooper who had jested as he tied the hangman's knot about me, lying in the grass, his glassy eyes staring at the darkening sky and a great crimson blotch on his breast. Such are the tricks that Fate plays on mortals!

Later I learned that shortly after noon on that day, a boy came galloping into the British outpost at Beaver Dams, bearing the despatches and the intelligence of my capture. There was instant saddling; and furious riding brought them to my rescue in just the nick of time. The Americans had been completely surprised and several of them killed; but among those who escaped was Willcocks, whose infamous life had yet one year to run.

I could not get much information about the boy whose hard riding had saved my life. He was a nice looking young feller," the sergeant said; and he had guided the troops back, but had disappeared before the fighting began.

I knew, of course, that he had been sent by the brave and loyal girl. But I could learn nothing further; and being upon my recovery ordered to Montreal on courier duty was obliged to postpone further enquiry.

It was not until July of the next year that I rejoined my troops. The York Militia were then encamped with Col. Scott's force at Twelve Mile Creek in the Niagara Peninsula. Fifteen miles to the south, General Riall's corps lay stretched across the country, showing its teeth to the invading

enemy.

I had been stationed there but a day when we got word late one afternoon to go at once to the front, where an engagement was imminent. Through that blazing afternoon we hurried forward; and a spur to flagging energy came when about six o'clock a great volley of musketry crashed up from the southward, followed by the booming of cannon. To this overture succeeded the steady rumble and thunder of the distant battle. With this music to march to, we rushed along the country roads, burning with that passion for battle which has ever distinguished the British soldier. We knew that our forces in front were hopelessly outnumbered; but hurry as we might the miles would not shorten themselves, and twilight had deepened into night before we reached the battle field of Lundy's Lane.

The hill, which formed the centre of the British formation and the key to the whole field had just been captured by the enemy and we met at its foot blood-stained, powder-begrimed men retreating before the American bay

onets.

The word passed along that we must retake the position; and though by this time it was quite dark, we moved swiftly forward up the slope.

Of the mælstrom of carnage which whirled and raged about that hill for the next three hours I do not mean to write; for no words could picture its horror. We fought the Americans, hand to hand, wherever we could find

them.

Around me in the darkness I could hear the trampling and neighing of horses, the curses of contending soldiers, the death shrieks of bayoneted men, the ringing command of gallant General Drummond that we should "stick to them, boys;" the frightful crashing and shredding of bones as the cannon balls tore through our ranks.

Foot by foot we won the slope; reached the summit; held it against the desperate charges of the American infantry. I was steadying my company to resist a new onset, for I could see the glitter of the bayonets converging on us through the darknesswhen the world went roaring by and the night enshrouded me.

When I came to myself I was lying in a barn. The fitful glare of torches revealed the wounded lying all about me; and the deep moans of strong men in agony filled the air. The sorry

scene was further lit up by the late rising moon which poured its silvery rays through the open door. Surgeons were busy at their cruel tasks of kindness; and moving here and there among the suffering and the dying on errands of mercy and consolation I saw Ann Lloyd again.

You do not need, my dears, to be told the rest of the story-how Ann Lloyd nursed me through the Valley of Great Shadows, and how before I could be moved, minus an arm, to my home in York, we had agreed to walk together the great way of life.

But it was not until we were man and wife that I learned that to save me from the treachery of her uncle and to do the Flag she loved a service she had, dressed in the clothes of a younger brother, carried the warning herself to the Beaver Dams.

John W. Dafoe.

"SHALL

HALL we go to church, Henry?' There was no answer. The man addressed was lost in his own thought. His hands were deep down in his pockets, his chin pressed his chest, and, stretched far in front of him, his shabby boots, at the ends of his shabbier trousers, rested heels upon the floor.

His wife looked up from her dishwashing to wonder aloud at his silence, but his hopeless attitude, his pitifullypuzzled eyes, his white, strained face drew a sigh from her instead. turned away with a glisten in her eyes, and it had nothing to do with happi

ness.

She

The clatter of the spoons and forks went on. The woman's patient footsteps sounded along the passage-way to the pantry, up and down the cellar stairs, back and forth across the kitchen floor. The clock struck ten, and the man shifted in his chair. A coal dropped into the stove-pan and he started up.

"Shall we go to church, Henry?" his wife asked again. "I-I don't know. What do you think? Do you want to wear your Easter hat?"

He spoke lightly and with a smile that had its beginning in cheerfulness,

but it dwindled into a piteous little grimace as he remembered how very long it was since she had an Easter hat.

"Perhaps we'll feel better," began Mrs. Harvey, "and I've finished now." She hung up her kitchen apron and joined her husband as he stood staring down at the stove with his hands clasped behind him.

It was a dreary day for them both. A couple of days ago their little drygoods shop had not been opened in the morning, and the whole town was aghast and a-gossip at the news that Henry Harvey had failed. For five years they had struggled on bravely, losing money and keeping hope. One year they said to each other it was the hard times, the next, bad debts. Another balance-sheet told yet plainer truths, but they reasoned that if they could only hold out for one more year they might sell and make a little. Again it was proved a losing game, but there was enough to pay the debts. This last year had been the hardest of all. Settling day found them unprepared, though they had struggled to make ready for the fourth of March, that graveyard of many a dry-goods man's best hopes. It was no use trying to tide it over. They were worn out with the care and fret of it, and Henry made an assignment, insisting with sturdy and rare honesty that his household goods be sold to swell his assets. So they were penniless and would be homeless on the morrow.