Original.

THE LAST SACRIFICE.

A TALE OF THE AMERICAN

REVOLUTION.

forty or fifty feet, with broken fragments of rocks lying in the water, having been washed from their beds by the dashing of the waves in stormy weather. From many parts, where it is not obstructed by trees, the hills afford an extensive view of surrounding country, which is not less beautiful than diversified. At their foot their is a winding creek, extending about one third across the island, which at this part is some two miles wide, gradually becoming broader and deeper, until it empties itself into the East river. A sandy plain with gentle risings extends from this creek over an intervening space of some miles in every direction, joining Harlem river on the cast, whilst to the north it meets the high hills in the neighborhood of Manhattanville and King's-bridge: the first a small and quiet village, situated in a deep valley, and the latter celebrated as the place of the advanced guard of the British army, form

Or the revolutionary days of our country there are many incidents of absorbing interest; many scenes of affliction and distress; many acts of cruelty and of blood-that have been, and perhaps always will be left unrecorded by historian, chronologist, or novelist. The details of that period of unexampled suffering amongst a large and virtuous people striving for their rights, have been but lightly sketched, and but few pens employed in describing their transcendent labors, whose influence is, or shall be felt, wherever man exists upon this earth and the name of liberty is loved. Many of the perils and distresses of those times, unhappily exist now only in tradition, the actors themselves having gone for ever from the scenes of which they formed a part-ing the southern extremity of the Neutral Ground. but Freedom, the work of their hands, whose torch was lighted by a spark from heaven, still exists, and the beautiful structure shall stand for ages yet to come, shedding a cherishing smile on all who dare to trample upon tyranny and resist oppression. To America the world shall look and see the flame of liberty burning brighter and still brighter, and its influence more and more extended, until men are no longer slaves to ignorance and despotism: without theo, O Goddess! what is man, fumilies, government, nations?

Our story is of this period-the revolution of the colonies of Great Britain, now the United States of America, and of which it was said in the first Continental Congress-"We have counted the cost of this contest, and are with one mind resolved to die freemen rather than to live slaves"-a sentiment that will truly emulate in patriotic heroism the resolves of ancient Greece or Rome, by whomsoever spoken.

Those acquainted with the localities of the Island of which the large and populous city of New-York now forms the Southern extremity, well know the ridge of hills extending from river to river about six miles north of it. This ridge of hills called Harlem Heights, at the time of which we are speaking, was occupied by the British after the retreat of the American army northward. The hand of industry had not, as at the present day, levelled many of its protuberances and filled many of its ravines; neither had the axe felled the greater portion of the trees which skirted its summits-but, wild, solitary and neglected, it stood, until hostile bands roamed through our land, seeking and destroying, made it a bulwark of defence and safety.

This line of hills on the east side began near the river opposite Hell Gate, a place which in former times excited almost supernatural fears in the breast of the navigator, and is still looked upon as a location of considerable danger to small vessels at certain times of tide. From this spot they gradually rise in height, sloping off on the Southern aspect, whilst the north side for the most part are steep and precipitous and interspersed with deep gullies. Within a quarter of a mile of the Hudson they gradually taper off to the border of the river, where there is a perpendicular descent of some

This ridge with its rugged, precipitous side, it will will be perceived at once, was well fitted to afford with but a small force, a place of almost impregnable strength against any considerable army that might attack it from the north. And so important did the British deem its possession, that during the whole war, or from early in 1776 until peace was declared in 1783, a period of upwards of seven years, they held its occupation with no inconsiderable portion of their army. About midway and again near the end and towards the Hudson river, were two roads giving ingress and egress to and from the city; with this exception, the whole was wild and solitary, until military works and fortifications were erected, first by the Americans and afterwards by the British, the remains of which are still to be seen.

At that season of the year when the scorching rays of the sun are fast mellowing into the softer beams of autumn, about two hours before sunset the exquisite outline of a female figure might have been seen stepping with agility from rock to rock and slowly ascending through a narrow gorge between two high peaks of the hilly ridge. Saying nothing of the time and place, there was something uncommon in the appearance of the young female, who, as she approached a sweet-briar standing in her path, would pluck a flower, and, inhaling its fragrance for an instant, place it in her hair, which hung luxuriantly down upon her neck and shoulders in flowing tresses. A simple band of white ribbon surrounded her head. The dress she wore was of entire black, and her bonnet, which was also black, she held in her hand by its strings. Though her countenance was pale and blanched her features were models of feminine beauty. There was a cast of care upon her face, but her dark eyes shone through the long black eye-lashes, with a lustre almost unearthly. She appeared in no haste to gain the end of her journey. Occasionally, as the breeze freshened, the flowers which stuck in her hair were blown away, when she would fly after them with an exclamation of playfulness and pleasure. Having regained them she would replace them upon her head, and then pursue her way, singing in a melodious tone of voice a couplet of a song, and gathering the wild-flowers as she went along.

Anon she approached a stream of water, which came ed and reverberated through the woods and over hill in a meandering course down the hill, rippling among and dale in a fearful manner, and fled from the rock pebbles and fragments of rocks. She scated herself against which she had been leaning with the velocity of beside it. From a little basin filled with the water of an arrow. In an instant she was in the arms of the solcrystal purity she lifted the refreshing beverage with the|| dier, clinging for protection in a wholly senseless condipalm of her hand to her parched lips. After assuaging tion. The soldier, finding she had fainted, gently plaher thirst, she bent her head over the stream, and with ced her upon the green turf, and then advanced to the her hands bathed her throbbing temples and forchead || rock from whence she had fled, to penetrate the causo with the cooling liquid; she then raised herself from of her sudden alarm. There, but a few feet from where her seat and proceeded on her way, keeping along the the poor girl had stood, lay coiled a large rattle-snake, stream, its side affording a smoother pathway, and being prepared to spring upon her, and whose deadly blow less obstructed with briars and underwood than was to she had escaped by leaving its vicinity so precipitately. be found elsewhere. He then with his bayonet quickly tranfixed the poisonWhen she had nearly gained the-top of the heights, a ous reptile, and lifting a stone of considerable size from confused murmur met her ears, intermingled occasion- the ground, threw it with great force and crushed the ally with the music of a drum. She stopped and lis-serpent's head to atoms. Having done this, he returntened, endeavoring to convince herself of the directioned to the still senseless girl who was gasping with rofrom whence the noise proceeded. Having apparently satisfied herself, her countenance suddenly lost its sad expression and lighted with joy as she exclaimed: "He is there! my Frank is there! I now shall see him! Oh! yes, yes-I shall see him!" and she laughed aloud. Then continued the utterance of her thoughts in the same tone of feeling. My Frank! mine-but what shall I say to him? Oh! never mind, it matters not-he will be rejoiced to see his own dear Editha-I know he will!"

The last words were scarcely spoken when her attention was attracted to a rustling noise in the bushes near her, which as it approached her still nearer, cracked and snapped from the pressure of footsteps. She turned her face towards the place from whence the noise came and her eyes lighted upon the form of a man dressed in the garb of a soldier, who had been attracted to the spot by the hilarious sound of her laugh. On espy- || ing the soldier she shrank timidly away and strove to hide herself behind a rock at some distance from him. The soldier observing her efforts to rid herself of his presence, addressed her from where he stood, not approaching her vicinity, that he might not further increase

her fears.

"Fear not me, young lady," said he in a soothing tone of voice; "I would not injure the like of you-your laugh brought me hither. I am a sentinel and on duty, or I should not now intrude myself before you." After pausing a few moments and not receiving any answer, continued: "Where art going, lady? This place, and unprotected, could not, without some object of importance, have enticed thee to its solitudes."

Upon hearing his voice, she endeavored instinctively to crouch closer to the rock for concealment, which seeing, the soldier repeated his efforts to re-assure and calm her apprehensions.

turning life. The fresh renovating breeze playing upon her beautiful countenance, in a short time caused the mechanism of existence to renow its accustomed work.

Her companion, whose nerves, perhaps, had never been so much moved even when engaged in the strife of battle, as now in seeing this delicate creature before him in a state of utter helplessness, and however unsoldierlike it may appear, tears might be seen coursing themselves down the veteran's face. Sitting on the grass as her senses partially returned she placed her hands upon her temples, seemingly striving to recover her recollection, and then smoothed her hair backwards from off her brows. She now turned her eyes upon the soldier who was standing immediately before her, and interrogated him in scarcely audible accents:

"Where am I? What place is this?" and turning her head as she spoke the last agonized heavings and writhings of the dying reptile met her sight; “ah! that horrid snake! take it away! it will get me yet-see, it comes-it coils itself-it springs-away! away!"

Fear again conquered that frail tenement. The blood again rushed back upon the overcharged heart, and unconsciousness again ensued. Not having recovered sufficiently to comprehend the true state of the reptile, from its movements she imagined it was coming upon her, and'unhappy consequences as we have seen followed. The kind assiduities of her companion, however, soon brought her back to life, and whose explanations finally effected the composure of her excited imagination. This done, he assisted her from the ground and questioned her as to the direction which she was going, promising to protect her on the way as far as his duty would permit. She informed him that she was going to the camp on the heights. On learning this, he assisted her in ascending the remainder of the acclivity with great gentleness, and brought her by the nearest direc

"My dear young lady, dissipate these useless fears. ||tion to the quarters of the commander of the station. Though an old, rough and weather-beaten soldier-I would not harm thee, dear Miss-not I! Come away from amongst those briars, they will tear thy delicate flesh-come away, and be assured thou hast but to command, if I can assist thee in thy wishes." Whilst the old man was still speaking to the timid girl, she suddenly gave a wild, shrill shriek, which echo

After having arrived at the place and seated his charge in the apartment of Colonel Haviland, he left her alone whilst he went in quest of that officer. He met Colonel Haviland at the door just returning from an excursion, and informed him that a lady was waiting in the house to see him, and likewise told him of all the circumstances from his first meeting her. When the

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sentinel had finished his recital, the Colonel hastened to the presence of his visitor with his curiosity in no little degree excited.

For some time after entering the room he could not convince himself that his senses did not deceive himhe started, but recovering himself and approaching his fair guest, exclaimed:

the truth flashed upon him. The conviction of the beautiful and delicate being before him being the victim of insanity, rushed to his heart, leaving a load of profound sorrow and distress.

He had several times paced the length of the room when his attention was summoned to poor Editha, who came running towards him, and accosting him in a mixed tone of voice, half of jest and half serious.

Perhaps, thought he, she has been the victim of deception and misfortune-but, no! no profligate wretch would dare to taint so fair a shrine with loathsomeness. "Is it indeed the fair Editha Meredith, the flower of The suspicion as soon as conceived was rejected. Pity Westchester-or am I deceived?" He took her by the for the unfortunate creature was the predominant feelhand and raising it, impressed it with a kiss. "Thouing of his mind, and how to return her in safety to her art too palpable," he continued, smiling; "but with friends was the immediate object of his solicitude. less proof than this, I should believe most assuredly The Colonel with a quick pace thoughtfully strode thou wert her phantom!" across the apartment devising the best mode of returnNow, lest our dear reader should imagine that Colo-ing the fugitive to her friends, the camp being both an nel Haviland and Editha Meredith were devoted lovers improper and impossible place for her to remain any we must haster to undeceive them. That is to say, not time, as preparations were then rapidly making for an lovers in the acceptation that term is generally under- important sallie against the Americans. stood. Colonel Haviland, besides, was not such a person, as you perhaps have pictured to yourself. To put you right on this point, we must inform you, who peradventure may be interested in the fortunes of our heroine, that he was, in the first place, a representative of years "A pretty traipse I've had in seeking him! He shall sufficient in number to be the parent of that young lady. answer for the trouble he has given me-shall he not, In the second place, he was a married man; and in the Colonel? But trouble is nothing in seeking Frank, had last place, he was the father of a family of three chil- I not seen that horrid, horrid snake! Oh-oh!" A dren. After knowing this, it will be confessed that Col-shudder shook her frame like one chilled with an ague, onel Haviland was not a proper lover for the beautiful Editha. But after all this he did love her as a parent loves his own offspring, and Editha Meredith loved him as an amiable child loves her own dear indulgent father. Colonel Haviland was a British officer. He was born and lived in the city of New-York, and was one of those who, in that perilous time, sided from mistaken, though conscientious motives, with their country's enemies and oppressors. He exercised the command of that portion of the army which were stationed upon Harlem heights. At the mansion of Colonel Haviland, before the out-ingly asked: "You will let me see my dear Frank broak which sundered the ties of brother, kindred and friend, Edith Meredith had often been received, and would remain for months together, domicilated and treated with the like tender consideration with his own children. Thus we perceive they were not strangers to each other.

Until now they had not met for a long time, during which interval many stirring circumstances had convulsed the country, which promised a hindrance to an interview for a much longer period, had not chance unexpectedly made the young lady a guest of Colonel

Haviland.

as she thought of that hated object, and but for the support of Colonel Haviland she must have fell to the floor.

So overcome was he in contemplating this wreck of one whom he had known as all that was amiable and lovely, that he could not speak. She continued, after recovering from her imaginary terrors, smiling as she spoke.

"But I shall now see him-won't I, dear Colonel Haviland?" She then grasped his hands and implor

Graves-I know you will! You never denied me aught; say I shall see him-do, do speak!”

Francis Graves, the lover of Editha Meredith, whom she was seeking in the British encampment, mistaking it in her infirmity for the American, in which army he was an esteemed officer, was not unknown to Colonel Haviland. But a short time previous, a smart action had been fought in which both officers had borne no inconsiderable part, and indeed, formerly their respectivo families had lived on terms of friendship.

Considering it impossible, owing to the unsettled state The attention of Colonel Haviland was drawn to a of the country, to escort his unfortunate charge to her closer scrutiny of his visitor on observing the fantastic home with safety, he left her for a few moments, to give manner she was attired, which had escaped him on his directions for a proper guard to conduct her to his own first meeting her, and the expression of surprise and house in the city. The preparations were soon complejoy faithfully depicted on his benevolent countenance, || ted, and her kind protector assisted her to mount one now gave place to distrust and apprehension. Herof his gentlest steeds, and turning to the old soldier who dress of the deepest mourning, covering a figure of the most perfect though delicate formation; her hair dishevelled and wild roses capriciously disposed in it; that face of exquisite beauty, expressing hilarity rather than composed pleasure; the lustre reflected from those dark eyes, as some metal of the highest polish-so different from her appearance heretoforo-the full certainty of

brought her to the camp, charged him to be cautious of his precious trust and place her in safety in his houseand then giving hima note to be delivered to Mrs. Havi land, ordered him to proceed.

Our travellers, after a two hours ride along that delightful road, which occasionally in its course skirts the picturesquo Hudson, and which is still admired for its

beautiful scenery by the thousands who daily traverse it || love of liberty in both act and conscience; nor was he for health and pleasure, arrived safely at the mansion of an unworthy specimen of the children of that heroic Colonel Haviland, where we shall leave her in compara- band. A man like this, in whatever arena he chooses tive security, and pass to some circumstances, which had to exert his influence, cannot be inconsiderable, cither preceded her adventure. for good or for evil-a proposition eminently true in the case of Mr. Meredith. Happily for his country, all his feelings were strongly animated for her welfare, and his opinions were sought for with avidity by many of his contemporaries who were undecided, or unable to form them for themselves in the great cause which then convulsed our country to its very centre. Nor was this influence exerted only among his immediate household and neighbors, for he had been found on several previous occasions of trust and difficulty, serving his country faithfully, and it now looked to him as no unimportant auxiliary in her present difficulties.

After the reduction of Fort Washington by the British, their line of posts extended on the north as high as King's-bridge, and taking a southeasterly direction followed the course of the Harlem river, until it joins the east river. The space between this line and White Plains, where the American head quarters was established, a range of country about twenty miles in extent and reaching from the Sound to the Hudson river, was called the Neutral ground, and which has been rendered classic by the elegant pen of our countryman, the author of the Spy. This track of country in contravention of what its name imports, was any thing but neutral-it was emphatically the theatre of contention, strife and devastation: and this not solely between the chief belligerants, but by a set of marauders called Cow- || boys, who carried from one extremity to the other distress and desolation in their path. They were the common enemy of all that lived between the lines, and whether Whig or Tory, was to be equally obnoxious to their depredations; nor did feeble age or delicate woman escape their unhallowed persecutions. The British, with their foraging parties would make frequent inroads collecting and carrying away every thing that would answer the purpose of support to man or beast; whilst the Cow-boys, ransacking the country, extorting by threats and violence every thing they could find of any value, and in many instances committing acts of the most startling cruelty. These, with an occasional skirmish between the soldiery, wrought continued excitement in the minds of the quietly disposed inhabitants. Security and happiness had fled far from their humble dwellings, and the very demons of wrath seemed to have been let loose against them.

There lived in the lower portion of this district, until just previous to the time when the seat of active warfare was shifted from New England to its vicinity, in a pleasant though sequestered spot, a happy family, consisting of four individuals—an elderly couple who had numbered about threescore winters, and their two children, a son and a daughter. The son, just entering upon the stage of active life, when early manhood steels the till then dormant energies to exertion, and success seems certain to a sanguine imagination. The girl, a fair and delicate flower, having recently turned her eighteenth birth-day. Their name was Meredith.

William Meredith, the senior and head of this family, was a stern and uncompromising Whig-a steady and firm resister of all innovations which were so continually attempted to be heaped upon her colonies by the mother country. He was not one of the many blustering and noisy demagogues of the day, but acted from principle alone with a sure and unwavering purpose a worthy coadjutor of the men of those trying times, whose names have become immortal. A descendant of the Pilgrim Fathers of Plymouth, he acted from the

But Mr. Meredith was not satisfied with this, in his estimation, passive support, though his years would readily have excused him from more active co-operation, and, when the loud war-blast was first heard in our land, called together those of his neighbors who loved their kindred and their peaceful homes, and with his son at his side, sallied forth armed for the battle and the death. It was at the battle of Long Island, where so many of our countrymen deluged the soil with their blood, that Mr. Meredith and his son both fell, martyrs to the cause they had espoused. As the dying father was breathing his last blessing upon his beloved child and a last adieu to the unprotected at home, his gallant son fell by a mortal shot from the enemy.

The intelligence of this mournful catastrophe reached the family of Mr. Meredith at the time when the royal forces were overspreading their neighborhood, laying waste with fire and sword every thing that owned a rebel master. Nor did the house of the Merediths escape the general devastation; as a partisan of the Colonial cause he had been too active for them to pass it with impunity, and though inhabited by women only, it was not protected from the flames. The mother and daughter escaped in safety and sought an asylum with a relative at some distance, who, favoring the royalist party, were consequently saved from the wrath of fire and sword. Mrs. Meredith, owing to her complicated and heavy misfortunes, acting upon a naturally delicate constitution, was attacked with a ner vous fever, from the effects of which she soon sunk, making the third death in a very short period of time in that unfortunate family.

Editha Meredith still lived, the only individual saving it from extinction. But, oh! what a contrast between that being now and she who had been the life, spirit and presiding genius of that happy fire-side a few weeks since! The same body, the same form was there-but the mind, the spiritual part of our nature, where was it? Gone, aye, gone! Editha—the lovely, the beautiful, the gay, the innocent-was now a maniac! Yes! the destroying angel had gone forth, and left marks of his scathing fingers upon the whole of that household. Three of its members had passed from the scene of their troubled labors, and the most fragile, the purest, the best, the one most needing a kind, protecting hand, was shorn of her

richest endowment and left a victim of insanity! In- | side him whose face was familiar. The intruder was scrutible are thy ways, oh, Providence, and past finding an old colored servant of the Meredith family. out!