years, while his chin was small and delicate as a woman's. His eyes were of a dark hazel, so dark, no sign of a pupil could be seen, and the expression of them, when he chose, was wonderful-they could be likened only to those of a snake, for their fascination was irresistible. But the great charm lay in his smile, which no one could resist so sweet, so mild, so speaking. In figure he was about the medium height-his form as perfect as that of any sculptured model, and there was a grace, an ease, a quiet dignity in all his movements, which spoke one born to achieve greatness.

Such, in brief, was Major Aaron Burr, at the age of twenty, and who, at that early age, occupied the high and honorable position of Aid to General Putnam, by whom he was treated as a son, and to whom he gave his unlimited confidence. He was engaged in making out some orders previously dictated by the general, when his labors were interrupted by the latter, who, starting from the sofa, said, "There, major, read that --that is the letter just brought by the truce-boat from Staten Island; what on earth can I do with it ?”

Major Burr, laying down his pen, perused the letter, and looking up in the general's face, said in his low, soft, musical voice, for which, elsewhere than on the field of battle, he was so famed, "I see only one course; Major Moncrieffe appeals to you as a soldier and gentleman; as such, you can make but one reply."

"Well, I suppose that's so; write, then, that Gen

eral Putnam will gladly accede to Major Moncrieffe's request, and will to-morrow dispatch a squad of men to escort his daughter to the city, and that in his quarters, and with his family, she will find a home and welcome, until the position or circumstances of her father might enable him to reclaim her."

The letter was written, signed, formally sealed, and addressed, and was handed to the orderly with directions to have it sent out to the British truce-boat, then lying off and on, a few hundred yards from the shore.

The letter which had led to this conversation, had been brought on that morning by a boat from Staten Island, bearing a flag of truce, which was met a few hundred yards from the shore (for of course an enemy's boat was not allowed to come within hailing distance of land), by one from the Provincial general.

It was from Major Moncrieffe, of the British army, whose regiment was then encamped on Staten Island, preferring a very singular request. The writer stated that the chances of war had necessitated a separation from his only child, Margaret, a motherless daughter, who had accompanied him from England. She was now alone and unprotected at the farmhouse of one widow Adams, near Elizabeth, and he implored General Putnam, as a soldier, a gentleman, and a father, to grant shelter and protection to his child. She was, he said, scarce past fifteen, utterly inexperienced, and required that care and attention which he could not now bestow

upon her; and he promised, if his request was complied with, to relieve the general from the responsibility at the earliest possible moment.

"How am I to get her here, major ?" asked the general, taking up the letter of Major Moncrieffe. "He writes that she is at the house of one Mrs. Adams, near Elizabeth. Do you know anything about the place?"

"Everything, general. Mr. Adams, the father, now dead, used to oversee my uncle's farm near Newark, and, since his death, the widow moved with her daughter, to the place on which they now reside, which belongs to us, and which she occupies rent free as long as she lives. She has a nephew-a bold, dashing young fellow, who ran away from home to follow me through the route to Quebec, and who is now a sergeant in McDougall's regiment."

"I wish he was in a better place," growled the general, "for that regiment was notorious for its utter lack of discipline, its general inefficiency, and the turbulent disposition of the men.

"Well, as you know the place and the people, suppose you go over to-morrow and bring this young lady hither. I wonder what she is like."

"The letter says she is a mere child, and inexperienced. She won't give you much trouble, I fancy. I will take a squad of picked men, and go after her tomorrow, for I shall be glad again to see the good old lady and her daughter."

"Pretty, eh?" said the general, with a comical look, to which Major Burr replied, laughing,

"Oh, yes, very pretty, general, and a terrible little patriot."

"So much the better. I wish we had more men like her. But consider that arranged. Now do you go on and finish up those orders. I will take a ride around the works, and see how they advance. I want to have everything finished before General Washington's return, which can't be delayed many days longer;" and seizing his chapeau, he directed the orderly to have his horse brought to the door, and rode off to inspect the works, for he never trusted to others to do that which he could best do himself.

In the evening, at the tea-table, the general informed his wife and daughters of the intended accession to their family circle, to which, of course, no opposition was offered; and Major Burr having made all his preparations for the morrow's journey-for it was something of a journey in those days, even to Elizabeth-retired early, and left the family to discuss, in anticipation, the possible merits or demerits of the new comer.

CHAPTER II.

MARGARET MONCRIEFFE.

THE town of Elizabeth, in the month of June, 1776, was very different in its character and population from the Elizabeth City of the present day. A few scattering log-huts embedded in woods; hundreds of acres of uncleared lands, covered with stately trees, and here and there a small farmhouse, afforded the only evidences of the existence of the town of Elizabeth, as it was then called, whose limits, however, extended for a circuit of many miles around.

At the extreme end of the township, and on the side nearest to the Staten Island shore, there stood, at the time of which I write, a small farmhouse, as it was then called, though at the present time it would scarcely be dignified with the name of cottage. It was a low, onestory dwelling, built of hewn stone, with a wing extending some thirty feet, which was formed of roughhewn logs, and plastered with mud.

The farm on which it was located, had evidently been cultivated for a long time, for the house was surrounded with appliances of comparative comfort and