To songs: LOYALTY * BARE TREES

SCENE 74 - Late morning near rocks close to the Inn

(With the new communication changing the arrangements, since ISABELLA's father was no longer with his command, her brother consents to her immediate interment in a lovely spot near the foot of adjacent rocks, with rude preparations as time and situation permit. A few neighbors collect from curiosity and interest; Miss PEYTON and her niece, FRANCES, weep in sincerity over ISABELLA's grave.)

(The solemn offices are performed by the minister, who had so lately stood forth to officiate in another very different duty. LAWTON bends his head, and passes his hand over his brow, when the words that accompanied the first clod are uttered. )

(A new stimulus is given to the WHARTONS by the intelligence conveyed in DUNWOODIE's letter; and CAESAR, with his horses, is once more put to work. The relics of the property are entrusted to a neighbor, in whom they had confidence, and , accompanied by the unconscious SARAH, and attended by four dragoons and all of the American wounded, Mr. WHARTON's party take their departure.)

(They are speedily followed by the English chaplain and his countrymen, who are conveyed to the water-side, where a vessel is in waiting to receive them. LAWTON joyfully witnesses these movements; and as soon as the latter are out of sight, he orders his own bugle to sound.)

(Everything is instantly in motion. The mare of Mrs. FLANAGAN is fastened to the cart; Dr. SITGREAVES exhibits his shapeless form once again on horseback; and LAWTON appears in the saddle, rejoicing in his emancipation.)

(The word to march is given;; and LAWTON, throwing a look of sullen ferocity at the place of the Skinner's concealment, and another of melancholy towards the grave of ISABELLA, leads the way, accompanied by the surgeon, while HOLLISTER and BETTY bring up the rear, leaving a fresh southerly wind to whistle through the open doors and broken windows of "FLANAGAN's Inn," where the laugh of hilarity, the joke of the hardy partisan, and the lamentations of the sorrowing, had so lately echoed.)

SCENE 75 - Winding passes of the Highlands

(The entire party struggles together the first day of their journey. While CAESAR and his steeds contend with the less frequented passes of the Highlands of the Hudson, the inmates of the carriage are too engrossed in their own cares to attend to those who served them. The mind of SARAH ceases to wander so wildly as at first, but her expression of exquisite woe forces the others to wish that she might forever be spared the agony of thought. The day's march passes chiefly in silence, and the party finds shelter for the night in different farmhouses.)

SCENE 76 - Morning - party disperses, continues travel

(The following morning the cavalcade disperses. The wounded diverge toward the river, with the intention of taking water at Peekskill, in order to be transported to hospitals of the American army above. The litter of SINGLETON is conveyed to a part of the Highlands where his father holds his quarters, and where it is intended that the youth should complete his recovery.)

(The carriage of Mr. WHARTON, accompanied by a wagon conveying the housekeeper and what baggage had been saved and could be transported, resumes its route toward the place where HENRY WHARTON is held, and where he waits only their arrival to be put on trial for his life.)

Description of the terrain and battle areas:

(The country which lies between the waters of the Hudson and Long-Island Sound, is, for the first forty miles from their junction, a succession of hills and dales. The land bordering on the latter then becomes less abrupt, and gradually assumes a milder appearance, until it finally melts into the lovely plains and meadows of the Connecticut.)

(But as you approach the Hudson, the rugged aspect increases, until you at length meet with the formidable barrier of the Highlands. Here the NEUTRAL GROUND ceases. The royal army held the two points of land that commanded the southern entrance of the river into the mountains; but all the remaining passes were guarded by the Americans.)

(Sometimes the pickets of the continental army pushed low into the country, and that the hamlet of the White Plains was occasionally maintained by the parties of its troops. At other times, the advanced guards were withdrawn to the northerly extreme of the county, and as has been shown, the intermediate country was abandoned to the ravages of the miscreants who plundered between both armies, serving neither.)

SCENE 77 - WHARTON party's morning ascent of a steep pass

(The road taken by the WHARTON party was an unfrequented pass, little known, which entered the hills near the eastern boundary, emerging into the plains above many miles from the Hudson.)

(It would have been impossible for the tired steeds of Mr. WHARTON to drag the heavy chariot up the lengthened and steep ascents which lay before them. A pair of country horses are procured by the two dragoons who continue to accompany the party.)

(With their assistance, CAESAR is able to advance, by slow and toilsome steps into the bosom of the hills. Willing to relieve her own melancholy and breathe a fresher air, and also to lessen the weight, FRANCES alights as they reach the foot of the mountain. She finds KATY has made similar preparations, with the intention of walking to the summit.)

(With the sun setting near the top of the mountain, their guard declares that the end of their journey might be nearing. FRANCES moves forward with the elastic step of youth; and, followed by the housekeeper at a little distance,, she soon losses sight of the sluggish carriage, that is slowly toiling up the hill, pausing at times to allow the cattle to breathe.)

KATY: Oh, Miss FRANCES, what dreadful times these be. I know'd that calamity was about to befall; ever sin' the streak of blood was seen in the clouds,

FRANCES: There has been blood upon earth, KATY, though but little is ever seen in the clouds.

KATY: Ah, Miss FRANCES, I'm fearful that no good can follow rebellion against the Lord's anointed.

FRANCES: These events are certainly dreadful, enough to sicken the stoutest heart; but what can be done, KATY? Gallant and independent men are unwilling to submit to oppression; and I am fearful that such scenes are but too common in war.

KATY: If I could see anything to fight about, I shouldn't mind it so much. 'Twas said the king wanted all the tea for his own family, at one time; and then again, that he meant the colonies should pay over to him all their earnings. Now this is matter enough to fight about - for I'm sure that no one, however he may be lord or king, has a right to the hard earnings of another. Then it was all contradicted, and some said Washington wanted to be king himself; so that, between the two, one doesn't know which to believe.

FRANCES: Believe neither - for neither is true. I do not pretend to understand, myself, all the merits of this war, KATY; but to me it seem unnatural, that a country like this should be ruled by another so distant as England.

KATY: So I have heard HARVEY say to his father, that is dead and in his grave. (Lowering her voice) Many is the time that I've listened to them talking, when all the neighborhood was asleep; and such conversations, Miss FRANCES, that you can have no idea on! -- Well, to say the truth, HARVEY was a mystified body, and he was like the winds in the good book; no one could tell whence he came, or whither he went.

(FRANCES glances at her companion with an apparent desire to hear more.)

FRANCES: There are rumors abroad relative to the character of HARVEY that I should be sorry were true.

KATY: 'Tis a disparagement, every word on't. HARVEY had no more dealing with Beelzebub than you or I had. I'm sure if HARVEY had sold himself, he would take care to be better paid; though, to speak the truth,, he was always a wasteful and disregardful man.

FRANCES: (smiling) Nay, nay, I have no such injurious suspicion of him; but has he not sold himself to an earthly prince - one too much attached to the interests of his native island to be always just to this country?

KATY: To the king's majesty! Why, Miss FRANCES, your own brother that is held captive serves King George.

FRANCES: True, but not in secret - openly, manfully, and bravely.

KATY: 'Tis said he is a spy, and why an't one spy as bad as another?

FRANCES: 'Tis untrue, no act of deception is worthy of my brother; nor of any would he be guilty, for so base a purpose as gain, or promotion.

KATY: Well, I'm sure,if a body does the work, he should be paid for it. HARVEY is by no means partic'lar about getting his lawful dues; and I dar'st to say, if the truth was forthcoming, King George owes him money this very minute.

FRANCES: Then you acknowledge HARVEY's connection with the British army? I confess there have been moments when I thought differently."

(FRANCES makes no reply, but continues her walk up the hill, deeply engaged in her own reflections. The mention of Andre recalls her thoughts to the situation of her own brother.)

(They soon reach the highest point in their toilsome progress to the summit, and FRANCES seats herself on a rock to rest and admire the view. Immediately at her feet lay a deep dell, but little altered by cultivation, and dark with the gloom of a November sunset. Another hill rises opposite to the place where she sits, at no great distance, along whose rugged sides nothing is to be seen but shapeless rocks, and oaks whose stinted growth show a meager soil.)

(To be seen in their perfection, the Highlands must be passed immediately after the fall of the leaf. The scene is then the finest, for neither the scanty foliage which the summer lends the trees, nor the snows of winter, are present to conceal the minutest objects from the eye. Chilling solitude is the characteristic of the scenery; nor is the mind at liberty, as in March, to look forward to a renewed vegetation that is soon to check, without improving, the view.)

(The day had been cloudy and cool, and thin fleecy clouds hung around the horizon, often promising to disperse, but as frequently disappointing FRANCES in the hope of catching a parting beam from the setting sun. At length a solitary gleam strikes on the base of the mountain on which she is gazing, and moves gracefully up its side, until, reaching toward the summit, it stands for a minute, forming a crown of glory to the somber pile.)

(So strong are the rays, that what was before indistinct , now clearly opens to the view. With a feeling of awe at being thus unexpectedly admitted, as it were, into the secrets of that desert place. FRANCES gazes intently, until, among the scattered trees and fantastic rocks, something like a rude structure is seen.)

(In the next instant tones of a bugle ring through the glens and hollows, and reecho in every direction. Springing to her feet, the alarmed girl hears the trampling of horses, and directly a party in the well-known uniform of the Virginians come sweeping round the point of a rock near her, and draws up at a short distance.)

(Again the bugle sounds a lively strain, and before the agitated FRANCES has time to rally her thoughts, DUNWOODIE dashes by the party of dragoons, throws himself from his charger, and advances to her side. His manner is earnest and interested, but in a slight degree constrained. In a few words he explains that he has been ordered up, with a party of LAWTON's men, in the absence of the Captain himself, to attend the trial of HENRY, which was fixed for the morrow; and that, anxious for their safety in the rude passes of the mountains, he had hidden a mile or two in quest of the travelers.)

(FRANCES explains with trembling voice, the reason for her being in advance, and tells him momentarily to expect her father. The constraint of his manner had, however, unwillingly on her part, communicated itself to her, and the approach of the chariot was a relief to both.)

(The Major hands her in, speaks a few words of encouragement to Mr. WHARTON and Miss PEYTON, and again mounting, leads the way towards the plains of Fishkill, which broke on their sight, on turning the rock, with the effect of enchantment. A short half-hour brought them to the door of the farm-house, which the care of DUNWOODIE had already prepared for their reception, and where Capt. WHARTON was anxiously expecting their arrival.