utherner named Carrington, scrambled into it.
His companion was not far behind, and was hurrying toward the cave, when
he was arrested by a rumble and a crash: a block of granite, tons in
weight, that had hung poised overhead, slid from its place and completely
blocked the entrance. The stifled cry of despair from the living occupant
of the tomb struck to his heart. He hid in a neighboring wood until the
Tories had dispersed, then, returning to the cave, he strove with might
and main to stir the boulder from its place, but without avail.

When he reached camp, as he did next day, he told of this disaster, but
the time for rescue was believed to be past, or the work was thought to
be too exhausting and dangerous for a body of men who had much ado to
keep life in their own weak frames. It was a double tragedy, for the
young man's sweetheart never recovered from the shock that the news
occasioned, and on her tomb, near Richmond, Virginia, these words are
chiselled: "Died, of a broken heart, on the 1st of March, 1780, Virginia
Randolph, aged 21 years, 9 days. Faithful unto death." In the summer of
1889 some workmen, blasting rock near the falls on French Creek,
uncovered the long-concealed cavern and found there a skeleton with a few
rags of a Continental uniform. In a bottle beside it was an account,
signed by Arthur L. Carrington, of the accident that had befallen him,
and a letter declaring undying love for his sweetheart.

He had starved to death. The bones were neatly coffined, and were sent to
Richmond to be buried beside those of the faithful Miss Randolph.

THE LAST SHOT AT GERMANTOWN

Many are the tales of prophecy that have been preserved to us from war
times. In the beginning of King Philip's war in Connecticut, in 1675, it
was reported that the firing of the first gun was heard all over the
State, while the drumbeats calling settlers to defence were audible eight
miles away. Braddock's defeat and the salvation of Washington were
foretold by a Miami chief at a council held in Fort Ponchartrain, on
Detroit River, the ambush and the slaughter having been revealed to him
in a dream. The victims of that battle, too, had been apprised, for one
or two nights before the disaster a young lieutenant in Braddock's
command saw his fellow-officers pass through his tent, bloody and torn,
and when the first gun sounded he knew that it spoke the doom of nearly
all his comrades. At Killingly, Connecticut, in the autumn b