And should you roam the wide world o'er, No happier home you'll see, Than this abode of loving toil Beneath the maple tree.

CHORUS.

Beneath the maple tree, Beneath the maple tree, Than this abode of loving toil Beneath the maple tree.

_A 49th man_. Hurrah, Jack! that's a good tune, Let's have the chorus again.

_All_-- Beneath the maple tree, Beneath the maple tree, Than this abode of lov--

[_The_ Sentry _challenges, and a_ Corporal _enters and salutes_ FITZGIBBON.

_Fitzgibbon_. Well, Corporal.

_Corporal_. Sir, here is Mishe-mo-qua and a woman.

They say they've news, and wish to speak with you.

_Fitzgibbon_. Then, Corporal, show them in.

[_Exit_ Corporal.

_Enter_ MRS. SECORD _and the_ Indian Chief, _who salutes_ LIEUT.

FITZGIBBON.

_Several Militiamen_ (_in surprise, aside to each other_.) 'Tis Mrs.

Secord, Captain Secord's wife; What can her errand be? So tired, too, And in rags.

_Mrs. Secord_ (_courtesying_). You are the Captain, sir?

_Fitzgibbon_. At your service.

_Mrs. Secord_. I bring you news of great importance, sir.

_Fitzgibbon_. I am indebted, madam, for what I see Has been no common task. Be seated, pray.

[_A Cadet places a chair_.

Chief, will you also rest?

[_He indicates a couch_.

_Mishe-mo-qua_. No. Woman, she Come far, to tell white chief great words.

_Fitzgibbon_. I thank her much.

_Mrs. Secord_. I came to say that General Dearborn tires.

Of his inaction, and the narrow s.p.a.ce Around his works, he therefore purposes To fall upon your outpost here, to-night, With an o'erwhelming force, and take your stores:

_Fitzgibbon_. Madam!

_Mrs. Secord_. Five hundred men, with some dragoons and guns, Start e'en to-night, soon as the moon goes down; Lieutenant-Colonel Boerstler in command.

A train of waggons, too, is sent for spoil.

_Fitzgibbon_. And may I ask on what authority To trust such startling news? I know you not.

_Mrs. Secord_. My name is Secord, I'm Captain Secord's wife, Who fought at Queenston Heights, and there received The wounds that leave him now a helpless cripple.

Some here may know him.

_Fitzgibbon_. I remember now.

_Mrs. Secord_. We live within the Yankee lines, and hence By victor's right our home is free to them.

Last night a sergeant and his new-changed guard Came in and asked for supper; a boy and girl I left to wait on them, seeing the table set With all supplies myself, and then retired.

But such their confidence; their talk so loud And free, I could not help but hear some words That raised suspicion; then I listened close And heard, 'mid gibe and jest, the enterprise That was to flout us; make the Loyalist A cringing slave to sneering rebels; make The British lion gnash his teeth with rage;-- The Yankee, hand-on-hip, guffawing loud The while. At once, my British blood was up, Nor had I borne their hated presence more, But for the deeper cause. My husband judged As I did, but his helpless frame forbade His active interference, so I came, For well we knew your risk, warning denied.

_Fitzgibbon_. Alone? You surely did not come alone?

_Mrs. Secord_. Sir, I have walked the whole way through the woods, For fear of spies, braving all other foes.

Nor, since at early morn I left St. David's Mill, Until I met your sentry on the ridge,-- Who begged me tell you so, and said "all's well,"-- Spoke I, or saw, a soul. Since then, the chief, Whose senior sent him with me for a guide, Has been my kind protector to your post.

_Fitzgibbon (to the chief_). I thank you, Mishe-mo-qua, and your chief.

(_To Mrs. Secord, bowing_.) But you, oh; madam, how shall I thank you?

You have, indeed, performed a woman's part, A gentle deed; yet at expense of more Than woman's fitting means. I am not schooled In courtly phrases, yet may I undertake To thank you heartily, not on our part Alone, but in our good King George's name, For act so kind achieved. Knew he your care For his brave men--I speak for those around-- Of whom some fought for him at Copenhagen, He would convey his thanks, and the Queen's, too-- Who loves all n.o.bleness--in better terms Than I, his humble servant. Affliction Leaves him in our hands to do him justice; And justice 'tis, alike to him and you, To thank you in his name, and in the Regent's.

_The Soldiers_. Hurray! hurray! hurray!

[_They toss up their caps_.

_Mrs. Secord_. Sir, you make quite too much of my poor service, I have but done my duty; and I beg Let me not interrupt your movements now: I would not be an obstacle across The path I made.

_Fitzgibbon_. You add an obligation, madam.

[_At a signal the men from the next room file in_.

(_To the men_.) We've hot work coming, boys. Our good friend here Has walked from Queenston, through the woods, this day, To warn me that a sortie from Fort George Is sent to take this post, and starts e'en now.

You, c.u.mmings, mount--you know the way--and ride With all your might, to tell De Haren this; He lies at Twelve-Mile Creek with larger force Than mine, and will move up to my support: He'll see my handful cannot keep at bay Five hundred men, or fight in open field.

But what strength can't accomplish cunning must-- I'll have to circ.u.mvent them.

[_Exit_ c.u.mMINGS.

(_To Mishe-mo-qua_.) And you, chief, What will you do? You've stood by me so long, So faithfully, I count upon you now.

_Mishe-mo-qua_. White chief say true: we good King George's men.

My warriors yell! hide! shoot! hot bullet fly Like dart of Annee-meekee.

We keep dam Long-Knife back. I go just now.

_Fitzgibbon (handing the chief a twist of tobacco, which he puts into his girdle with a grunt of satisfaction)_. A Mohawk is my friend, and you are one.

[FITZGIBBON _shakes hands with the_ Chief, _who retires well pleased_.