eager voices around me.
Answer them I would not, but hurried on to the room where sat the
Council of Safety, who held the fate and the fortunes of the province
in its hand and was the heart and soul of the great revolt.

An usher stood at the door, but, seeing my uniform, threw it wide
open, and, as I entered, softly swung it to behind me. It was a lofty
room in which I found myself, with immense windows looking out over
the town and the sweep of the waters of the bay to the distant line
of the eastern shore. A long, broad table extended down the centre of
the room. Around it were seated some sixteen or eighteen gentlemen.
Staid men and grave they were, past the middle age of life, for the
younger men had gone to fight the battles of the republic; men who
were fitted by experience to guide the province through the stormy
scenes of the civil war.

At their head sat a venerable gentleman whom I knew to be Matthew
Tilghman, the patriarch of the Colony. At his right hand sat a man of
sturdy build, ruddy countenance, and dark hair and eyes, more like a
prosperous planter with many acres and numerous slaves than the man
who was soon to become the Great War Governor of Maryland. All down
the table on either side sat men with strong, determined faces, whose
names bespoke the chieftainship of many a powerful family. A movement
of interest ran down the table as I entered and delivered to the
venerable Chairman the despatch. He broke the seal with nervous
fingers, and then rising, read General Washington's despatch aloud
amid intense interest.

"Battle," "defeat," "rout," "Cortelyou House," "the Maryland Line."
"Good, I see the boys did their duty," were among the many
exclamations I heard around the table and when the despatch ended.

"The bearer will describe the battle."

They all turned to me, and Thomas Johnson said: "Come, young
gentleman, tell us everything you saw and heard."

So I took my place by the Chairman and told them of what I had seen
and done, amid many interruptions and eager questions from the
Council.

Thus for a time, as I stood there, I became a man of importance,
telling the tale of the battle, of the defeat and the rout, of the
fiery charges, the death, the pain and the anguish of it all, until
long after the night had fallen. But an end comes to all things, and
Thomas Johnson, laying his hand on my shoulder, said:

"Young gentleman, you must stay with me to-night."

I accepted gladly, for the