secret agents in the city. On your fidelity depend not only their
fortunes, but their lives. I believe you are one of the very few who
have acted faithfully to our cause, and, while you have passed as a spy
of the enemy, have never given intelligence that you were not permitted
to divulge. It is impossible to do you justice now, but I fearlessly
entrust you with this certificate. Remember, in me you will always have
a secret friend, though openly I cannot know you. It is now my duty to
pay you your postponed reward."

"Does your excellency think I have exposed my life and blasted my
character for money? No, not a dollar of your gold will I touch! Poor
America has need of it all!"

"But remember, the veil that conceals your true character cannot be
raised. The prime of your days is already past. What have you to subsist
on?"

"These," exclaimed Harvey Birch, stretching forth his hands.

"The characters of men much esteemed depend on your secrecy. What pledge
can I give them of your fidelity?"

"Tell them," said Birch, "that I would not take the gold."

The officer grasped the hand of the pedlar as he exclaimed, "Now,
indeed, I know you!"

* * * * *

It was thirty-three years after the interview just related that an
American army was once more arrayed against the troops of England; but
the scene was transferred from the banks of the Hudson to those of the
Niagara.

The body of Washington had long lain mouldering in the tomb, but his
name was hourly receiving new lustre as his worth and integrity became
more visible.

The sound of cannon and musketry was heard above the roar of the
cataract. On both sides repeated and bloody charges had been made. While
the action was raging an old man wandering near was seen to throw down
suddenly a bundle he was carrying and to seize a musket from a fallen
soldier. He plunged headlong into the thick of the fight, and bore
himself as valiantly as the best of the American soldiers. When, in the
evening, the order was given to the shattered troops to return to camp,
Captain Wharton Dunwoodie found that his lieutenant was missing, and
taking a lighted fusee, he went himself in quest of the body. The
lieutenant was found on the side of the hill seated with great
composure, but unable to walk from a fractured leg.

"Ah, dear Tom," exclaimed Dunwoodie, "I knew I should find you the
nearest man to the enemy!"

"No," said the lieutenant. "There is a