n the plight of many of
their class. The horrors of a protracted war had visited with equal
severity the dwelling places of the rich and the poor. It was not a
question of the provision of the sinews of war; tax had been enacted of
all classes alike. But it did seem as if the angel of poverty had
tarried the longer at the doorposts of the less opulent and had, in
proportion to their indigence, inflicted the greater suffering and
privation. Figuratively speaking, this was the state of affairs with
Jim's house.

Everything that could stimulate, and everything that could gratify the
propensities of a middle-aged couple, the blessings of health, the daily
round of occupation, the joys of life and the hopes of at length
obtaining possession of a little home, all these and the contentment of
living, had at once been swept away from Jim Cadwalader and his wife by
the calamities of war. They had lived as many had lived who have no
different excuse to plead for their penury. The wages of their day's
labor had been their sole means of support, and when this source of
income had vanished, nothing was left. In the low and dingy rooms which
they called their home there were no articles of adornment and many
necessary for use were wanting. Sand sprinkled on the floor did duty as
a carpet. There was no glass upon their table; no china on the cupboard;
no prints on the wall. Matches were a treasure and coal was never seen.
Over a fire of broken boxes and barrels, lighted with sparks from the
flint, was cooked a rude meal to be served in pewter dishes. Fresh meat
was rarely tasted--at most but once a week, and then paid for at a
higher price than their scanty means could justly allow.

"The way things 're goin' a pair o' boots 'll soon cost a man 'most six
hundr' dollars. I heard a man say who 's good at figurin' out these
things, that it now takes forty dollar bills t' make a dollar o' coin.
We can't stand that much longer."

"Unless a great blow is struck soon," observed Nancy.

"But it won't be struck. Washington's watchin' Clinton from Morristown.
The Americans are now on the offensive an' Clinton 's busy holdin' New
York. The French 're here an' who knows but they may do somethin'. 'Twas
too bad they missed Howe's army when it left here."

"Were they here?"

"They were at the capes when the chase was over. Lord Howe's ships had
gone."

Again there was silence.

"I guess Washington can't do much without an army. He has onl