ley of the Brandywine. Could she gain this road unseen she still
might reach Washington.

Urging Daisy forward, she broke just in time through the dense growth
which hid the entrance, and sat trembling, hidden behind a dense growth
of tangled vines, while she heard the troopers thunder by. Then, riding
through the rustling woods, she came at last into the open, and saw
spread out beneath her the beautiful valley of the Brandywine, dotted
with the white tents of the Continental army.

Starting off at a gallop, she dashed around a bend in the road into the
midst of a group of officers riding slowly up from the valley.

"Stop, little maiden, before you run us down," said one, who seemed to
be in command. "Where are you going in such hot haste?"

"Oh, sir," said Betty, reining in Daisy, "can thee tell me where I can
find General Washington?"

"Yes, little Quakeress," said the officer who had first spoken to her;
"I am he. What do you wish?"

Betty, too exhausted to be surprised, poured forth her story in a few
broken sentences, and (hearing as if in a dream the hasty commands for
the rescue of the soldiers in Chichester Meeting-house) fell forward in
her saddle, and, for the first time in her life, fainted, worn out by
her noble ride.

A few days later, when recovering from the shock of her long and
eventful ride, Betty, awaking from a deep sleep, found her mother
kneeling beside her little bed, while her father talked with General
Washington himself beside the fireplace; and it was the proudest and
happiest moment of her life when Washington, coming forward and taking
her by the hand, said, "You are the bravest little maid in America, and
an honor to your country."

Still the peaceful meeting-house and the gambrel-roofed home stand
unchanged, save that their time-beaten timbers and crumbling bricks have
taken on a more sombre tinge, and under the broad walnut-tree another
little Betty sits and sews.

If you ask it, she will take down the great key from its nail, and
swinging back the new doors of the meeting-house, will show you the
old worm-eaten ones inside, which, pierced through and through
with bullet-holes, once served as a rampart against the enemy.
And she will tell you, in the quaint Friend's language, how her
great-great-grandmother carried, over a hundred years ago, the news of
the danger of her countrymen to Washington, on the Brandywine, and at
the risk of her own life saved theirs.

KING AR