sergeant's banter, "belongs to
our farm, and perhaps we had better let down the rails and approach the
house across the field: if the Tories should be there we might find the
road dangerous. This gives us a chance of retreat."

"That's both scrupulous and wise, John," replied the sergeant. "So down
with the pannel: we will steal upon the good folks, if they are at home,
and take them by surprise. But mind you, my lad, see that your pistols
are primed; we mought onawares get into a wasp's nest."

The fence was lowered, and the horsemen cautiously entered the field.
After passing a narrow dell and rising to the crest of the opposite
hill, they obtained a position but a short distance in the rear of the
homestead. From this point a melancholy prospect broke upon their sight.
The dwelling-house had disappeared, and in its place was a heap only of
smouldering ashes. A few of the upright frame-posts, scorched black, and
a stone chimney with its ample fire-place, were all that remained of
what, but a few days before, was the happy abode of the family of a
brave and worthy man.

"My God! my thoughts were running upon this! I feared their spite would
break at last upon my father's head," cried John Ramsay, as he put spurs
to his horse and galloped up to the ruins. "The savages have done their
worst. But my father and mother where are they?" he exclaimed, as the
tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Take heart, my brave boy!" said Robinson, in the kindliest tones.
"There's a reckoning to come for all these villanies--and it will go
hard with many a Tory yet before this account is settled."

"I will carry a hot hand into the first house that covers a Tory head,"
replied the young trooper, passionately; "this burning shall be paid
with ten like it."

"All in good time, John," said Robinson coolly. "As for the burning, it
is no great matter; a few good neighbors would soon set that to rights,
by building your father a better house than the one he has lost.
Besides, Congress will not forget a true friend when the war is well
fought out. But it does go against my grain, John Ramsay, to see a
parcel of cowardly runaways spitting their malice against women and
children. The barn, likewise, I see is gone," continued the sergeant,
looking towards another pile of the ruins a short distance off. "The
villains! when there's foul work to be done, they don't go at it like
apprentices. No matter--I have made one observation: the darkest hour is